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[illustration: h. l. gordon] the feast of the virgins and other poems by h.l. gordon _i had rather write one word upon the rock of ages, than ten thousand in the sand._ entered according to act of congress in the year by h.l. gordon in the office of the librarian of congress, washington, d.c. table of contents address to the flag a million more an old english oak anthem betzko beyond byron and the angel change charge of the "black-horse" charge of fremont's body-guard charity chickadee christmas eve [illustrated] daniel do they think of us? dust to dust fame fido gettysburg: charge of the first minnesota heloise hope hurrah for the volunteers! isabel lines on the death of captain coats love will find mauley [illustrated] men minnetonka [illustrated] mrs. mcnair my dead my father-land my heart's on the rhine night thoughts new years address, [illustrated] o let me dream the dreams of long ago only a private killed on reading president lincoln's letter out of the depths pat and the pig pauline [illustrated] poetry prelude--the mississippi sailor boy's song spring [illustrated] thanksgiving the devil and the monk [illustrated] the draft the dying veteran the feast of the virgins [illustrated] the legend of the falls [illustrated] the minstrel the old flag the pioneer [illustrated] the reign of reason the sea-gull [illustrated] the tariff on tin [illustrated] to mollie to sylva twenty years ago [illustrated] wesselenyi [illustrated] winona [illustrated] preface at odd hours during an active and busy life i have dallied with the muses. i found in them, in earlier years, rest from toil and drudgery and, later, relief from physical suffering. broken by over-work and compelled to abandon the practice of my profession--the law, i wrote _pauline_ after i had been given up to die by my physicians. it proved to be a better 'medicine' for me than all the quackeries of the quacks. it diverted my mind from myself and, perhaps, saved my life. when published, its reception by the best journals of this country and england was so flattering and, at the same time, the criticisms of some were so just, that i have been induced to carefully revise the poem and to publish my re-touched _pauline_ in this volume. i hope and believe i have greatly improved it. several of the minor poems have been published heretofore in journals and magazines; others of equal or greater age flap their wings herein for the first time; a few peeped from the shell but yesterday. i am aware that this volume contains several poems that a certain class of critics will condemn, but they are my "chicks" and i will gather them under my wings. "none but an author knows an author's cares, or fancy's fondness for the child she bears."--_cowper._ much of my life has been spent in the northwest--on the frontier of civilization, and i became personally acquainted with many of the chiefs and braves of the dakota and ojibway (chippewa) indians. i have written of them largely from my own personal knowledge, and endeavored, above all things, to be accurate, and to present them true to the life. for several years i devoted my leisure hours to the study of the language, history, traditions, customs and superstitions of the dakotas. these indians are now commonly called the "_sioux_"--a name given them by the early french traders and _voyageurs_. "dakota" signifies _alliance_ or _confederation_. many separate bands, all having a common origin and speaking a common tongue, were united under this name. see "_tah-koo wah-kan,_" or "_the gospel among the dakotas,_" by stephen r. riggs, pp. to inc. they were but yesterday the occupants and owners of the fair forests and fertile prairies of minnesota--a brave, hospitable and generous people--barbarians, indeed, but noble in their barbarism. they may be fitly called the iroquois of the west. in form and features, in language and traditions, they are distinct from all other indian tribes. when first visited by white men, and for many years afterwards, the falls of st. anthony (by them called the _ha ha_) was the center of their country. they cultivated corn and tobacco, and hunted the elk, the beaver and the bison. they were open-hearted, truthful and brave. in their wars with other tribes they seldom slew women or children, and rarely sacrificed the lives of their prisoners. for many years their chiefs and head men successfully resisted the attempts to introduce spirituous liquors among them. more than a century ago an english trader was killed at mendota, near the present city of st. paul, because he persisted, after repeated warnings by the chiefs, in dealing out _mini wakan_ (devil-water) to the dakota braves. with open arms and generous hospitality they welcomed the first white men to their land, and were ever faithful in their friendship, till years of wrong and robbery, and want and insult, drove them to desperation and to war. they were barbarians, and their warfare was barbarous, but not more barbarous than the warfare of our saxon, celtic and norman ancestors. they were ignorant and superstitious. their condition closely resembled the condition of our british forefathers at the beginning of the christian era. macaulay says of britain: "her inhabitants, when first they became known to the tyrian mariners, were little superior to the natives of the sandwich islands." and again: "while the german princes who reigned at paris, toledo, aries and ravenna listened with reverence to the instructions of bishops, adored the relics of martyrs, and took part eagerly in disputes touching the nicene theology, the rulers of wessex and mercia were still performing savage rites in the temples of thor and woden." the days of the dakotas are done. the degenerate remnants of that once powerful and warlike people still linger around the forts and agencies of the northwest, or chase the caribou and the elk on the banks of the saskatchewan, but the dakotas of old are no more. the brilliant defeat of custer, by sitting bull and his braves, was their last grand rally against the resistless march of the sons of the saxons. the plow-shares of a superior race are fast leveling the sacred mounds of their dead. but yesterday, the shores of our lakes and our rivers were dotted with their _teepees,_ their light canoes glided over our waters, and their hunters chased the deer and the buffalo on the sites of our cities. to-day, they are not. let us do justice to their memory, for there was much that was noble in their natures. in the dakota legends, i have endeavored to faithfully present many of the customs and superstitions, and some of the traditions, of that people. i have taken very little 'poetic license' with their traditions; none, whatever, with their customs and superstitions. in my studies for these legends i was greatly aided by the rev. s.r. riggs, author of the _"grammar and dictionary of the dakota language" "tah-koo wah-kan,"_ &c., and for many years a missionary among the dakotas. he patiently answered my numerous inquiries and gave me valuable information. i am also indebted to the late gen. h.h. sibley, one of the earliest american traders among them, and to rev. s.w. pond, of shakopee, one of the first protestant missionaries to these people, and himself the author of poetical versions of some of their principal legends; to mrs. eastman's _"dacotah,"_ and last, but not least, to the rev. e.d. neill, whose admirable _"history of minnesota"_ so fully and faithfully presents almost all that is known of the history, traditions, customs, manners and superstitions of the dakotas. in _winona_ i have "tried my hand" on a new hexameter verse. with what success, i leave to those who are better able to judge than i. if i have failed, i have but added another failure to the numerous attempts to naturalize hexameter verse in the english language. it will be observed that i have slightly changed the length and the rhythm of the old hexameter line; but it is still hexameter, and, i think, improved. i have not written for profit nor published for fame. fame is a coy goddess that rarely bestows her favors on him who seeks her--a phantom that many pursue and but few overtake. she delights to hover for a time, like a ghost, over the graves of dead men who know not and care not: to the living she is a veritable _ignis fatuus_. but every man owes something to his fellowmen, and i owe much. if my friends find half the pleasure in reading these poems that i have found in writing them, i shall have paid my debt and achieved success. h.l. gordon. minneapolis, november , . prelude the mississippi the numerals refer to _notes_ in appendix. onward rolls the royal river, proudly sweeping to the sea, dark and deep and grand, forever wrapt in myth and mystery. lo he laughs along the highlands, leaping o'er the granite walls; lo he sleeps among the islands, where the loon her lover calls. still like some huge monster winding downward through the prairied plains, seeking rest but never finding, till the tropic gulf he gains. in his mighty arms he claspeth now an empire broad and grand; in his left hand lo he graspeth leagues of fen and forest land; in his right the mighty mountains, hoary with eternal snow, where a thousand foaming fountains singing seek the plains below. fields of corn and feet of cities lo the mighty river laves, where the saxon sings his ditties o'er the swarthy warriors' graves. aye, before the birth of moses--ere the pyramids were piled-- all his banks were red with roses from the sea to nor'lands wild, and from forest, fen and meadows, in the deserts of the north, elk and bison stalked like shadows, and the tawny tribes came forth; deeds of death and deeds of daring on his leafy banks were done, women loved and men went warring, ere the siege of troy begun. where his foaming waters thundered, roaring o'er the rocky walls, dusky hunters sat and wondered, listening to the spirits' calls. "_ha-ha!_"[ ] cried the warrior greeting from afar the cataract's roar; "_ha-ha!_" rolled the answer beating down the rock-ribbed leagues of shore. now, alas, the bow and quiver and the dusky braves have fled, and the sullen, shackled river drives the droning mills instead. where the war-whoop rose, and after women wailed their warriors slain, list the saxon's silvery laughter, and his humming hives of gain. swiftly sped the tawny runner o'er the pathless prairies then, now the iron-reindeer sooner carries weal or woe to men. on thy bosom, royal river, silent sped the birch canoe bearing brave with bow and quiver on his way to war or woo; now with flaunting flags and streamers--mighty monsters of the deep-- lo the puffing, panting steamers through thy foaming waters sweep; and behold the grain-fields golden, where the bison grazed of eld; see the fanes of forests olden by the ruthless saxon felled. plumèd pines that spread their shadows ere columbus spread his sails, firs that fringed the mossy meadows ere the mayflower braved the gales, iron oaks that nourished bruin while the vikings roamed the main, crashing fall in broken ruin for the greedy marts of gain. still forever and forever rolls the restless river on, slumbering oft but ceasing never while the circling centuries run. in his palm the lakelet lingers, in his hair the brooklets hide, grasped within his thousand fingers lies a continent fair and wide-- yea, a mighty empire swarming with its millions like the bees, delving, drudging, striving, storming, all their lives, for golden ease. still, methinks, the dusky shadows of the days that are no more, stalk around the lakes and meadows, haunting oft the wonted shore: hunters from the land of spirits seek the bison and the deer where the saxon now inherits golden field and silver mere; and beside the mound where buried lies the dark-eyed maid he loves, some tall warrior, wan and wearied, in the misty moonlight moves. see--he stands erect and lingers--stoic still, but loth to go-- clutching in his tawny fingers feathered shaft and polished bow. never wail or moan he utters and no tear is on his face, but a warrior's curse he mutters on the crafty saxon race. o thou dark, mysterious river, speak and tell thy tales to me; seal not up thy lips forever--veiled in mist and mystery. i will sit and lowly listen at the phantom-haunted falls where thy waters foam and glisten o'er the rugged, rocky walls, till some spirit of the olden, mystic, weird, romantic days shall emerge and pour her golden tales and legends through my lays. then again the elk and bison on thy grassy banks shall feed, and along the low horizon shall the plumed hunter speed; then again on lake and river shall the silent birch canoe bear the brave with bow and quiver on his way to war or woo: then the beaver on the meadow shall rebuild his broken wall, and the wolf shall chase his shadow and his mate the panther call. from the prairies and the regions where the pine-plumed forest grows shall arise the tawny legions with their lances and their bows; and again the cries of battle shall resound along the plain, bows shall twang and quivers rattle, women wail their warriors slain; and by lodge-fire lowly burning shall the mother from afar list her warrior's steps returning from the daring deeds of war. [illustration: the game of ball] the feast of the virgins[ ] a legend of the dakotas in pronouncing dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah",--"e" the sound of "a",--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo;" sound "ee" as in english. the numerals refer to _notes_ in appendix. the game of ball[ ] clear was the sky as a silver shield; the bright sun blazed on the frozen field. on ice-bound river and white-robed prairie the diamonds gleamed in the flame of noon; but cold and keen were the breezes airy _wa-zi-ya_[ ] blew from his icy throne. on the solid ice of the silent river the bounds are marked, and a splendid prize, a robe of black-fox lined with beaver, is hung in view of the eager eyes; and fifty merry dakota maidens, the fairest-molded of womankind are gathered in groups on the level ice. they look on the robe and its beauty gladdens and maddens their hearts for the splendid prize. lo the rounded ankles and raven hair that floats at will on the wanton wind, and the round, brown arms to the breezes bare, and breasts like the mounds where the waters meet,[ ] and feet as fleet as the red deer's feet, and faces that glow like the full, round moon when she laughs in the luminous skies of june. the leaders are chosen and swiftly divide the opposing parties on either side. wiwâstè[ ] is chief of a nimble band, the star-eyed daughter of little crow;[ ] and the leader chosen to hold command of the band adverse is a haughty foe-- the dusky, impetuous hârpstinà,[ ] the queenly cousin of wâpasà.[ ] _kapoza's_ chief and his tawny hunters are gathered to witness the queenly game. the ball is thrown and a net encounters, and away it flies with a loud acclaim. swift are the maidens that follow after, and swiftly it flies for the farther bound; and long and loud are the peals of laughter, as some fair runner is flung to ground; while backward and forward, and to and fro, the maidens contend on the trampled snow. with loud "_ihó!--itó!--ihó_!"[ ] and waving the beautiful prize anon, the dusky warriors cheer them on. and often the limits are almost passed, as the swift ball flies and returns. at last it leaps the line at a single bound from the fair wiwâstè's sturdy arm like a fawn that flies from the baying hound. the wild cheers broke like a thunder storm on the beetling bluffs and the hills profound, an echoing, jubilant sea of sound. wakâwa, the chief, and the loud acclaim announced the end of the hard-won game, and the fair wiwâstè was victor crowned. dark was the visage of hârpstinà when the robe was laid at her rival's feet, and merry maidens and warriors saw her flashing eyes and her look of hate, as she turned to wakâwa, the chief, and said: "the game was mine were it fairly played. i was stunned by a blow on my bended head, as i snatched the ball from slippery ground not half a fling from wiwâstè's bound. the cheat--behold her! for there she stands with the prize that is mine in her treacherous hands. the fawn may fly, but the wolf is fleet; the fox creeps sly on _magâ's_[ ] retreat, and a woman's revenge--it is swift and sweet." she turned to her lodge, but a roar of laughter and merry mockery followed after. little they heeded the words she said, little they cared for her haughty tread, for maidens and warriors and chieftain knew that her lips were false and her charge untrue. wiwâstè, the fairest dakota maiden, the sweet-faced daughter of little crow, to her _teepee_[ ] turned with her trophy laden, the black robe trailing the virgin snow. beloved was she by her princely father, beloved was she by the young and old, by merry maidens and many a mother, and many a warrior bronzed and bold. for her face was as fair as a beautiful dream, and her voice like the song of the mountain stream; and her eyes like the stars when they glow and gleam through the somber pines of the nor'land wold, when the winds of winter are keen and cold. mah-pí-ya dú-ta[ ], the tall red cloud, a hunter swift and a warrior proud, with many a scar and many a feather, was a suitor bold and a lover fond. long had he courted wiwâstè's father, long had he sued for the maiden's hand. aye, brave and proud was the tall red cloud, a peerless son of a giant race, and the eyes of the panther were set in his face: he strode like a stag, and he stood like a pine; ten feathers he wore of the great _wanmdeè_;[ ] with crimsoned quills of the porcupine his leggins were worked to his brawny knee. the bow he bent was a giant's bow; the swift, red elk could he overtake, and the necklace that girdled his brawny neck was the polished claws of the great _mató_[ ] he grappled and slew in the northern snow. wiwâstè looked on the warrior tall; she saw he was brawny and brave and great, but the eyes of the panther she could but hate, and a brave _hóhè_[ ] loved she better than all. loved was mahpíya by hârpstinà but the warrior she never could charm or draw; and bitter indeed was her secret hate for the maiden she reckoned so fortunate. heyoka wacipee[ ] the giant's dance. the night-sun[ ] sails in his gold canoe, the spirits[ ] walk in the realms of air with their glowing faces and flaming hair, and the shrill, chill winds o'er the prairies blow. in the _tee[ ] of the council_ the virgins light the virgin-fire[ ] for the feast to-night; for the _sons of heyóka_ will celebrate the sacred dance to the giant great. the kettle boils on the blazing fire, and the flesh is done to the chief's desire. with his stoic face to the sacred east,[ ] he takes his seat at the giant's feast. for the feast of _heyóka_[ ] the braves are dressed with crowns from the bark of the white-birch trees, and new skin leggins that reach the knees; with robes of the bison and swarthy bear, and eagle-plumes in their coal-black hair, and marvelous rings in their tawny ears that were pierced with the points of their shining spears. to honor _heyóka_ wakâwa lifts his fuming pipe from the red-stone quarry.[ ] the warriors follow. the white cloud drifts from the council-lodge to the welkin starry, like a fog at morn on the fir-clad hill, when the meadows are damp and the winds are still. they dance to the tune of their wild "_há-há_" a warrior's shout and a raven's caw-- circling the pot and the blazing fire to the tom-tom's bray and the rude bassoon; round and round to their heart's desire, and ever the same wild chant and tune-- a warrior's shout and a raven's caw-- "_há-há,--há-há,--há-há,--há!_" they crouch, they leap, and their burning eyes flash fierce in the light of the flaming fire, as fiercer and fiercer and higher and higher the rude, wild notes of their chant arise. they cease, they sit, and the curling smoke ascends again from their polished pipes, and upward curls from their swarthy lips to the god whose favor their hearts invoke. then tall wakâwa arose and said: "brave warriors, listen, and give due heed. great is _heyóka_, the magical god; he can walk on the air; he can float on the flood. he's a worker of magic and wonderful wise; he cries when he laughs and he laughs when he cries; he sweats when he's cold, and he shivers when hot, and the water is cold in his boiling pot. he hides in the earth and he walks in disguise, but he loves the brave and their sacrifice. we are sons of _heyóka_. the giant commands in the boiling water to thrust our hands; and the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire _heyóka_ will crown with his heart's desire." they thrust their hands in the boiling pot; they swallow the bison-meat steaming hot; not a wince on their stoical faces bold, for the meat and the water, they say, are cold: and great is _heyóka_ and wonderful wise; he floats on the flood and he walks on the skies, and ever appears in a strange disguise; but he loves the brave and their sacrifice, and the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire heyóka will crown with his heart's desire. proud was the chief of his warriors proud, the sinewy sons of the giant's race; but the bravest of all was the tall red cloud; the eyes of the panther were set in his face; he strode like a stag and he stood like a pine; ten feathers he wore of the great _wanmdeé_,[ ] with crimsoned quills of the porcupine his leggins were worked to his brawny knee. blood-red were the stripes on his swarthy cheek, and the necklace that girdled his brawny neck was the polished claws of the great mató[ ] he grappled and slew in the northern snow. proud red cloud turned to the braves and said, as he shook the plumes on his haughty head: "ho! the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire _heyóka_ will crown with his heart's desire!" he snatched from the embers a red-hot brand, and held it aloft in his naked hand. he stood like a statue in bronze or stone-- not a muscle moved, and the braves looked on. he turned to the chieftain--"i scorn the fire-- ten feathers i wear of the great _wanmdeé_; then grant me, wakâwa, my heart's desire; let the sunlight shine in my lonely tee.[ ] i laugh at red death and i laugh at red fire; brave red cloud is only afraid of fear; but wiwâstè is fair to his heart and dear; then grant him, wakâwa, his heart's desire." the warriors applauded with loud "_ho! ho!_"[ ] and he flung the brand to the drifting snow. three times wakâwa puffed forth the smoke from his silent lips; then he slowly spoke: "mâhpíya is strong as the stout-armed oak that stands on the bluff by the windy plain, and laughs at the roar of the hurricane. he has slain the foe and the great _mató_ with his hissing arrow and deadly stroke my heart is swift but my tongue is slow. let the warrior come to my lodge and smoke; he may bring the gifts;[ ] but the timid doe may fly from the hunter and say him no." wiwâstè sat late in the lodge alone, her dark eyes bent on the glowing fire: she heard not the wild winds shrill and moan; she heard not the tall elms toss and groan; her face was lit like the harvest moon; for her thoughts flew far to her heart's desire. far away in the land of the _hóhè_[ ] dwelt the warrior she held in her secret heart; but little he dreamed of the pain she felt, for she hid her love with a maiden's art. not a tear she shed, not a word she said, when the brave young chief from the lodge departed; but she sat on the mound when the day was dead, and gazed at the full moon mellow-hearted. fair was the chief as the morning-star; his eyes were mild and his words were low, but his heart was stouter than lance or bow; and her young heart flew to her love afar o'er his trail long covered with drifted snow. she heard a warrior's stealthy tread, and the tall wakâwa appeared, and said: "is wiwâstè afraid of the spirit dread that fires the sky in the fatal north?[ ] behold the mysterious lights. come forth: some evil threatens, some danger nears, for the skies are pierced by the burning spears." the warriors rally beneath the moon; they shoot their shafts at the evil spirit. the spirit is slain and the flame is gone, but his blood lies red on the snow-fields near it; and again from the dead will the spirit rise, and flash his spears in the northern skies. then the chief and the queenly wiwâstè stood alone in the moon-lit solitude, and she was silent and he was grave. "and fears not my daughter the evil spirit? the strongest warriors and bravest fear it. the burning spears are an evil omen; they threaten the wrath of a wicked woman, or a treacherous foe; but my warriors brave, when danger nears, or the foe appears, are a cloud of arrows--a grove of spears." "my father," she said, and her words were low, "why should i fear? for i soon will go to the broad, blue lodge in the spirit-land, where my fond-eyed mother went long ago, and my dear twin-sisters walk hand in hand. my father, listen--my words are true," and sad was her voice as the whippowil when she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill, "wiwâstè lingers alone with you; the rest are sleeping on yonder hill-- save one--and he an undutiful son-- and you, my father, will sit alone when _sisóka_[ ] sings and the snow is gone. i sat, when the maple leaves were red, by the foaming falls of the haunted river; the night-sun was walking above my head, and the arrows shone in his burnished quiver; and the winds were hushed and the hour was dread with the walking ghosts of the silent dead. i heard the voice of the water-fairy;[ ] i saw her form in the moon-lit mist, as she sat on a stone with her burden weary, by the foaming eddies of amethyst. and robed in her mantle of mist the sprite her low wail poured on the silent night. then the spirit spake, and the floods were still-- they hushed and listened to what she said, and hushed was the plaint of the whippowil in the silver-birches above her head: 'wiwâstè, the prairies are green and fair when the robin sings and the whippowil; but the land of the spirits is fairer still, for the winds of winter blow never there; and forever the songs of the whippowils and the robins are heard on the leafy hills. thy mother looks from her lodge above-- her fair face shines in the sky afar, and the eyes of thy sisters are bright with love, as they peep from the _tee_ of the mother-star. to her happy lodge in the spirit land she beckons wiwâstè with shining hand.' "my father--my father, her words were true; and the death of wiwâstè will rest on you. you have pledged me as wife to the tall red cloud; you will take the gifts of the warrior proud; but i, wakâwa,--i answer--never! i will stain your knife in my heart's red blood, i will plunge and sink in the sullen river ere i will be wife to the dark red cloud!" "wiwâstè," he said, and his voice was low, "let it be as you will, for wakâwa's tongue has spoken no promise;--his lips are slow, and the love of a father is deep and strong. be happy, micúnksee;[ ] the flames are gone-- they flash no more in the northern sky. see the smile on the face of the watching moon; no more will the fatal, red arrows fly; for the singing shafts of my warriors sped to the bad spirit's bosom and laid him dead, and his blood on the snow of the north lies red. go--sleep in the robe that you won to-day, and dream of your hunter--the brave chaskè." light was her heart as she turned away; it sang like the lark in the skies of may. the round moon laughed, but a lone, red star,[ ] as she turned to the _teepee_ and entered in, fell flashing and swift in the sky afar, like the polished point of a javelin. nor chief nor daughter the shadow saw of the crouching listener, hârpstinà. wiwâstè, wrapped in her robe and sleep, heard not the storm-sprites wail and weep, as they rode on the winds in the frosty air; but she heard the voice of her hunter fair; for a fairy spirit with silent fingers the curtains drew from the land of dreams; and lo in her _teepee_ her lover lingers; in his tender eyes all the love-light beams, and his voice is the music of mountain streams. and then with her round, brown arms she pressed his phantom form to her throbbing breast, and whispered the name, in her happy sleep, of her _hóhè_ hunter so fair and far: and then she saw in her dreams the deep where the spirit wailed, and a falling star; then stealthily crouching under the trees, by the light of the moon, the _kan-é-ti-dan_, [ ] the little, wizened, mysterious man, with his long locks tossed by the moaning breeze. then a flap of wings, like a thunder-bird, [ ] and a wailing spirit the sleeper heard; and lo, through the mists of the moon, she saw the hateful visage of hârpstinà. but waking she murmured--"and what are these---- the flap of wings and the falling star, the wailing spirit that's never at ease, the little man crouching under the trees, and the hateful visage of hârpstinà? my dreams are like feathers that float on the breeze, and none can tell what the omens are---- save the beautiful dream of my love afar in the happy land of the tall _hóhè_---- my handsome hunter--my brave chaskè." [illustration: buffalo chase] _"ta-tánka! ta-tánka!"_[ ] the hunters cried, with a joyous shout at the break of dawn and darkly lined on the white hill-side, a herd of bison went marching on through the drifted snow like a caravan. swift to their ponies the hunters sped, and dashed away on the hurried chase. the wild steeds scented the game ahead, and sprang like hounds to the eager race. but the brawny bulls in the swarthy van turned their polished horns on the charging foes and reckless rider and fleet footman were held at bay in the drifted snows, while the bellowing herd o'er the hilltops ran, like the frightened beasts of a caravan on sahara's sands when the simoon blows. sharp were the twangs of the hunters' bows, and swift and humming the arrows sped, till ten huge bulls on the bloody snows lay pierced with arrows and dumb and dead. but the chief with the flankers had gained the rear, and flew on the trail of the flying herd. the shouts of the riders rang loud and clear, as their foaming steeds to the chase they spurred. and now like the roar of an avalanche rolls the bellowing wrath of the maddened bulls they charge on the riders and runners stanch, and a dying steed in the snow drift rolls, while the rider, flung to the frozen ground, escapes the horns by a panther's bound. but the raging monsters are held at bay, while the flankers dash on the swarthy rout: with lance and arrow they slay and slay; and the welkin rings to the gladsome shout---- to the loud _iná's_ and the wild _ihó's_, [ ] and dark and dead, on the bloody snows, lie the swarthy heaps of the buffaloes. all snug in the _teepee_ wiwâstè lay, all wrapped in her robe, at the dawn of day, all snug and warm from the wind and snow, while the hunters followed the buffalo. her dreams and her slumber their wild shouts broke; the chase was afoot when the maid awoke; she heard the twangs of the hunters' bows, and the bellowing bulls and the loud _ihó_'s, and she murmured--"my hunter is far away in the happy land of the tall _hóhè_---- my handsome hunter, my brave chaskè; but the robins will come and my warrior too, and wiwâstè will find her a way to woo." and long she lay in a reverie, and dreamed, wide-awake, of the brave chaskè, till a trampling of feet on the crispy snow she heard, and the murmur of voices low:---- then the warriors' greeting--_ihó! ihó!_ and behold, in the blaze of the risen day, with the hunters that followed the buffalo---- came her tall, young hunter--her brave chaskè. far south has he followed the bison-trail with his band of warriors so brave and true. right glad is wakâwa his friend to hail, and wiwâstè will find her a way to woo. tall and straight as the larch-tree stood the manly form of the brave young chief, and fair as the larch in its vernal leaf, when the red fawn bleats in the feathering wood. mild was his face as the morning skies, and friendship shone in his laughing eyes; but swift were his feet o'er the drifted snow on the trail of the elk or the buffalo, and his heart was stouter than lance or bow, when he heard the whoop of his enemies. five feathers he wore of the great wanmdeè and each for the scalp of a warrior slain, when down on his camp from the northern plain, with their murder-cries rode the bloody _cree_.[ ] but never the stain of an infant slain, or the blood of a mother that plead in vain, soiled the honored plumes of the brave _hóhè_. a mountain bear to his enemies, to his friends like the red fawn's dappled form; in peace, like the breeze from the summer seas---- in war, like the roar of the mountain storm. his fame in the voice of the winds went forth from his hunting grounds in the happy north, and far as the shores of the _great medè_ [ ] the nations spoke of the brave chaskè. dark was the visage of grim red cloud, fierce were the eyes of the warrior proud, when the chief to his lodge led the brave _hóhè_, and wiwâstè smiled on the tall chaskè. away he strode with a sullen frown, and alone in his _teepee_ he sat him down. from the gladsome greeting of braves he stole, and wrapped himself in his gloomy soul. but the eagle eyes of the hârpstinà the clouded face of the warrior saw. softly she spoke to the sullen brave: "mah-pí-ya dúta--his face is sad; and why is the warrior so glum and grave? for the fair wiwâstè is gay and glad; she will sit in the _teepee_ the live-long day, and laugh with her lover--the brave _hóhè_ does the tall red cloud for the false one sigh? there are fairer maidens than she, and proud were their hearts to be loved by the brave red cloud. and trust not the chief with the smiling eyes; his tongue is swift, but his words are lies; and the proud mah-pí-ya will surely find that wakâwa's promise is hollow wind. last night i stood by his lodge, and lo i heard the voice of the little crow; but the fox is sly and his words were low. but i heard her answer her father--'never! i will stain your knife in my heart's red blood, i will plunge and sink in the sullen river, ere i will be wife to the dark red cloud!' then he spake again, and his voice was low, but i heard the answer of little crow: 'let it be as you will, for wakâwa's tongue has spoken no promise--his lips are slow, and the love of a father is deep and strong.' "mah-pí-ya dúta, they scorn your love, but the false chief covets the warrior's gifts. false to his promise the fox will prove, and fickle as snow in _wo-kâ-da-weè_, [ ] that slips into brooks when the gray cloud lifts, or the red sun looks through the ragged rifts. mah-pí-ya dúta will listen to me. there are fairer birds in the bush than she, and the fairest would gladly be red cloud's wife. will the warrior sit like a girl bereft, when fairer and truer than she are left, that love red cloud as they love their life? mah-pí-ya dúta will listen to me. i love him well--i have loved him long: a woman is weak, but a warrior is strong, and a love-lorn brave is a scorn to see. "mah-pí-ya dúta, o listen to me! revenge is swift and revenge is strong, and sweet as the hive in the hollow tree; the proud red cloud will avenge his wrong. let the brave be patient, it is not long till the leaves be green on the maple tree, and the feast of the virgins is then to be-- the feast of the virgins is then to be!" proudly she turned from the silent brave, and went her way; but the warrior's eyes-- they flashed with the flame of a sudden fire, like the lights that gleam in the sacred cave[ ], when the black night covers the autumn skies, and the stars from their welkin watch retire. three nights he tarried--the brave chaskè; winged were the hours and they flitted away; on the wings of _wakândee_[ ] they silently flew, for wiwâstè had found her a way to woo. ah little he cared for the bison-chase, for the red lilies bloomed on the fair maid's face; ah little he cared for the winds that blew, for wiwâstè had found her a way to woo. brown-bosomed she sat on her fox-robe dark, her ear to the tales of the brave inclined, or tripped from the _tee_ like the song of a lark, and gathered her hair from the wanton wind. ah little he thought of the leagues of snow he trod on the trail of the buffalo; and little he recked of the hurricanes that swept the snow from the frozen plains and piled the banks of the bloody river.[ ] his bow unstrung and forgotten hung with his beaver hood and his otter quiver; he sat spell-bound by the artless grace of her star-lit eyes and her moon-lit face. ah little he cared for the storms that blew, for wiwâstè had found her a way to woo. when he spoke with wakâwa her sidelong eyes sought the handsome chief in his hunter-guise. wakâwa marked, and the lilies fair on her round cheeks spread to her raven hair. they feasted on rib of the bison fat, on the tongue of the _ta_[ ] that the hunters prize, on the savory flesh of the red _hogan_,[ ] on sweet _tipsanna_[ ] and pemmican and the dun-brown cakes of the golden maize; and hour after hour the young chief sat, and feasted his soul on her love-lit eyes. the sweeter the moments the swifter they fly; love takes no account of the fleeting hours; he walks in a dream 'mid the blooming of flowers, and never awakes till the blossoms die. ah lovers are lovers the wide world over-- in the hunter's lodge and the royal palace. sweet are the lips of his love to the lover-- sweet as new wine in a golden chalice from the tajo's[ ] slope or the hills beyond; and blindly he sips from his loved one's lips, in lodge or palace the wide world over, the maddening honey of trebizond.[ ] o what are leagues to the loving hunter, or the blinding drift of the hurricane, when it raves and roars o'er the frozen plain! he would face the storm--he would death encounter the darling prize of his heart to gain. but his hunters chafed at the long delay, for the swarthy bison were far away, and the brave young chief from the lodge departed. he promised to come with the robins in may with the bridal gifts for the bridal day; and the fair wiwâstè was happy-hearted, for wakâwa promised the brave chaskè. birds of a feather will flock together. the robin sings to his ruddy mate, and the chattering jays, in the winter weather, to prate and gossip will congregate; and the cawing crows on the autumn heather, like evil omens, will flock together, in common council for high debate; and the lass will slip from a doting mother to hang with her lad on the garden gate. birds of a feather will flock together-- 'tis an adage old--it is nature's law, and sure as the pole will the needle draw, the fierce red cloud with the flaunting feather, will follow the finger of hârpstinà. the winter wanes and the south-wind blows from the summer islands legendary; the _skéskas_[ ] fly and the melted snows in lakelets lie on the dimpled prairie. the frost-flowers[ ] peep from their winter sleep under the snow-drifts cold and deep. to the april sun and the april showers, in field and forest, the baby flowers lift their blushing faces and dewy eyes; and wet with the tears of the winter-fairies, soon bloom and blossom the emerald prairies, like the fabled garden of paradise. the plum-trees, white with their bloom in may, their sweet perfume on the vernal breeze wide strew like the isles of the tropic seas where the paroquet chatters the livelong day. but the may-days pass and the brave chaskè [ ] o why does the lover so long delay? wiwâstè waits in the lonely _tee_. has her fair face fled from his memory? for the robin cherups his mate to please, the blue-bird pipes in the poplar-trees, the meadow lark warbles his jubilees, shrilling his song in the azure seas till the welkin throbs to his melodies, and low is the hum of the humble-bees, and the feast of the virgins is now to be. the feast of the virgins the sun sails high in his azure realms; beneath the arch of the breezy elms the feast is spread by the murmuring river. with his battle-spear and his bow and quiver, and eagle-plumes in his ebon hair, the chief wakâwa himself is there; and round the feast, in the sacred ring,[ ] sit his weaponed warriors witnessing. not a morsel of food have the virgins tasted for three long days ere the holy feast; they sat in their _teepee_ alone and fasted, their faces turned to the sacred east.[ ] in the polished bowls lies the golden maize, and the flesh of fawn on the polished trays. for the virgins the bloom of the prairies wide-- the blushing pink and the meek blue-bell, the purple plumes of the prairie's pride,[ ] the wild, uncultured asphodel, and the beautiful, blue-eyed violet that the virgins call "let-me-not forget," in gay festoons and garlands twine with the cedar sprigs[ ] and the wildwood vine. so gaily the virgins are decked and dressed, and none but a virgin may enter there; and clad is each in a scarlet vest, and a fawn-skin frock to the brown calves bare. wild rose-buds peep from their flowing hair, and a rose half blown on the budding breast; and bright with the quills of the porcupine the moccasined feet of the maidens shine. hand in hand round the feast they dance, and sing to the notes of a rude bassoon, and never a pause or a dissonance in the merry dance or the merry tune. brown-bosomed and fair as the rising moon, when she peeps o'er the hills of the dewy east, wiwâstè sings at the virgins' feast; and bright is the light in her luminous eyes; they glow like the stars in the winter skies; and the lilies that bloom in her virgin heart their golden blush to her cheeks impart-- her cheeks half-hid in her midnight hair. fair is her form--as the red fawn's fair-- and long is the flow of her raven hair; it falls to her knees and it streams on the breeze like the path of a storm on the swelling seas. proud of their rites are the virgins fair, for none but a virgin may enter there. 'tis a custom of old and a sacred thing; nor rank nor beauty the warriors spare, if a tarnished maiden should enter there. and her that enters the sacred ring with a blot that is known or a secret stain the warrior who knows is bound to expose, and lead her forth from the ring again. and the word of a brave is the fiat of law; for the virgins' feast is a sacred thing. aside with the mothers sat hârpstinà; she durst not enter the virgins' ring. round and round to the merry song the maidens dance in their gay attire, while the loud _ho-ho's_ of the tawny throng their flying feet and their song inspire. they have finished the song and the sacred dance, and hand in hand to the feast advance-- to the polished bowls of the golden maize, and the sweet fawn-meat in the polished trays. then up from his seat in the silent crowd rose the frowning, fierce-eyed, tall red cloud; swift was his stride as the panther's spring, when he leaps on the fawn from his cavern lair; wiwâstè he caught by her flowing hair, and dragged her forth from the sacred ring. she turned on the warrior, her eyes flashed fire; her proud lips quivered with queenly ire; and her sun-browned cheeks were aflame with red. her hand to the spirits she raised and said: "i am pure!--i am pure as the falling snow! great _tâku-skán-skán_[ ] will testify! and dares the tall coward to say me no?" but the sullen warrior made no reply. she turned to the chief with her frantic cries: "wakâwa,--my father! he lies,--he lies! wiwâstè is pure as the fawn unborn; lead me back to the feast or wiwâstè dies!" but the warriors uttered a cry of scorn, and he turned his face from her pleading eyes. then the sullen warrior, the tall red cloud, looked up and spoke and his voice was loud; but he held his wrath and he spoke with care: "wiwâstè is young; she is proud and fair, but she may not boast of the virgin snows. the virgins' feast is a sacred thing; how durst she enter the virgins' ring? the warrior would fain, but he dares not spare; she is tarnished and only the red cloud knows." she clutched her hair in her clinchèd hand; she stood like a statue bronzed and grand; _wakân-deè_[ ] flashed in her fiery eyes; then swift as the meteor cleaves the skies-- nay, swift as the fiery _wakinyan's_[ ] dart, she snatched the knife from the warrior's belt, and plunged it clean to the polished hilt-- with a deadly cry--in the villain's heart. staggering he clutched the air and fell; his life-blood smoked on the trampled sand, and dripped from the knife in the virgin's hand. then rose his kinsmen's savage yell. swift as the doe's wiwâstè's feet fled away to the forest. the hunters fleet in vain pursue, and in vain they prowl and lurk in the forest till dawn of day. they hear the hoot of the mottled owl; they hear the were-wolf's[ ] winding howl; but the swift wiwâstè is far away. they found no trace in the forest land; they found no trail in the dew-damp grass; they found no track in the river sand, where they thought wiwâstè would surely pass. the braves returned to the troubled chief; in his lodge he sat in his silent grief. "surely," they said, "she has turned a spirit. no trail she left with her flying feet; no pathway leads to her far retreat. she flew in the air, and her wail--we could hear it, as she upward rose to the shining stars; and we heard on the river, as we stood near it, the falling drops of wiwâstè's tears." wakâwa thought of his daughter's words ere the south-wind came and the piping birds-- "my father, listen--my words are true," and sad was her voice as the whippowil when she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill, "wiwâstè lingers alone with you; the rest are sleeping on yonder hill-- save one--and he an undutiful son-- and you, my father, will sit alone when _sisóka_[ ] sings and the snow is gone." his broad breast heaved on his troubled soul, the shadow of grief o'er his visage stole like a cloud on the face of the setting sun. [illustration] "she has followed the years that are gone," he said; "the spirits the words of the witch fulfill; for i saw the ghost of my father dead, by the moon's dim light on the misty hill. he shook the plumes on his withered head, and the wind through his pale form whistled shrill. and a low, sad voice on the hill i heard, like the mournful wail of a widowed bird." then lo, as he looked from his lodge afar, he saw the glow of the evening-star; "and yonder," he said, "is wiwâstè's face; she looks from her lodge on our fading race, devoured by famine, and fraud, and war, and chased and hounded by fate and woe, as the white wolves follow the buffalo;" and he named the planet the _virgin star_.[ ] "wakâwa," he muttered, "the guilt is thine! she was pure--she was pure as the fawn unborn. o why did i hark to the cry of scorn, or the words of the lying libertine? wakâwa, wakâwa, the guilt is thine! the springs will return with the voice of birds, but the voice of my daughter will come no more. she wakened the woods with her musical words, and the sky-lark, ashamed of his voice, forbore. she called back the years that had passed, and long i heard their voice in her happy song. o why did the chief of the tall _hóhè_ his feet from _kapóza_[ ] so long delay? for his father sat at my father's feast, and he at wakâwa's--an honored guest. he is dead!--he is slain on the bloody plain, by the hand of the treacherous chippeway; and the face shall i never behold again of my brave young brother--the chief chaskè. death walks like a shadow among my kin; and swift are the feet of the flying years that cover wakâwa with frost and tears, and leave their tracks on his wrinkled skin. wakâwa, the voice of the years that are gone will follow thy feet like the shadow of death, till the paths of the forest and desert lone shall forget thy footsteps. o living breath, whence are thou, and whither so soon to fly? and whence are the years? shall i overtake their flying feet in the star-lit sky? from his last long sleep will the warrior wake? will the morning break in wakâwa's tomb, as it breaks and glows in the eastern skies? is it true?--will the spirits of kinsmen come and bid the bones of the brave arise? wakâwa, wakâwa, for thee the years are red with blood and bitter with tears. gone--brothers, and daughters, and wife--all gone that are kin to wakâwa--but one--but one-- wakínyan tânka--undutiful son! and he estranged from his father's _tee_, will never return till the chief shall die. and what cares he for his father's grief? he will smile at my death--it will make him chief. woe burns in my bosom. ho, warriors--ho! raise the song of red war; for your chief must go to drown his grief in the blood of the foe! i shall fall. raise my mound on the sacred hill. let my warriors the wish of their chief fulfill; for my fathers sleep in the sacred ground. the autumn blasts o'er wakâwa's mound will chase the hair of the thistles' head, and the bare-armed oak o'er the silent dead, when the whirling snows from the north descend, will wail and moan in the midnight wind. in the famine of winter the wolf will prowl, and scratch the snow from the heap of stones, and sit in the gathering storm and howl, on the frozen mound, for wakâwa's bones. but the years that are gone shall return again, as the robin returns and the whippowil, when my warriors stand on the sacred hill and remember the deeds of their brave chief slain." beneath the glow of the virgin star they raised the song of the red war-dance. at the break of dawn with the bow and lance they followed the chief on the path of war. to the north--to the forests of fir and pine-- led their stealthy steps on the winding trail, till they saw the lake of the spirit[ ] shine through somber pines of the dusky dale. then they heard the hoot of the mottled owl;[ ] they heard the gray wolf's dismal howl; then shrill and sudden the war-whoop rose from an hundred throats of their swarthy foes, in ambush crouched in the tangled wood. death shrieked in the twang of their deadly bows, and their hissing arrows drank brave men's blood. from rock, and thicket, and brush, and brakes, gleamed the burning eyes of the "forest-snakes."[ ] from brake, and thicket, and brush, and stone, the bow-string hummed and the arrow hissed, and the lance of a crouching ojibway shone, or the scalp-knife gleamed in a swarthy fist. undaunted the braves of wakâwa's band leaped into the thicket with lance and knife, and grappled the chippeways hand to hand; and foe with foe, in the deadly strife, lay clutching the scalp of his foe and dead, with a tomahawk sunk in his ghastly head, or his still heart sheathing a bloody blade. like a bear in the battle wakâwa raves, and cheers the hearts of his falling braves. but a panther crouches along his track-- he springs with a yell on wakâwa's back! the tall chief, stabbed to the heart, lies low; but his left hand clutches his deadly foe, and his red right clinches the bloody hilt of his knife in the heart of the slayer dyed. and thus was the life of wakâwa spilt, and slain and slayer lay side by side. the unscalped corpse of their honored chief his warriors snatched from the yelling pack, and homeward fled on their forest track with their bloody burden and load of grief. the spirits the words of the brave fulfill-- wakâwa sleeps on the sacred hill, and wakínyan tânka, his son, is chief. ah soon shall the lips of men forget wakâwa's name, and the mound of stone will speak of the dead to the winds alone, and the winds will whistle their mock regret. the speckled cones of the scarlet berries[ ] lie red and ripe in the prairie grass. the _si-yo_[ ] clucks on the emerald prairies to her infant brood. from the wild morass, on the sapphire lakelet set within it, _magâ_ sails forth with her wee ones daily. they ride on the dimpling waters gaily, like a fleet of yachts and a man-of-war. the piping plover, the light-winged linnet, and the swallow sail in the sunset skies. the whippowil from her cover hies, and trills her song on the amber air. anon to her loitering mate she cries: "flip, o will!--trip, o will!--skip, o will!" and her merry mate from afar replies: "flip i will--skip i will--trip i will;" and away on the wings of the wind he flies. and bright from her lodge in the skies afar peeps the glowing face of the virgin star. the fox-pups[ ] creep from their mother's lair, and leap in the light of the rising moon; and loud on the luminous, moonlit lake shrill the bugle-notes of the lover loon; and woods and waters and welkin break into jubilant song--it is joyful june. but where is wiwâstè? o where is she-- the virgin avenged--the queenly queen-- the womanly woman--the heroine? has she gone to the spirits? and can it be that her beautiful face is the virgin star peeping out from the door of her lodge afar, or upward sailing the silver sea, star-beaconed and lit like an avenue, in the shining stern of her gold canoe? no tidings came--nor the brave chaskè: o why did the lover so long delay? he promised to come with the robins in may with the bridal gifts for the bridal day; but the fair may-mornings have slipped away, and where is the lover--the brave chaskè? but what of the venomous hârpstinà-- the serpent that tempted the proud red cloud, and kindled revenge in his savage soul? he paid for his crime with his own heart's blood, but his angry spirit has brought her dole;[ ] it has entered her breast and her burning head, and she raves and burns on her fevered bed. "he is dead! he is dead!" is her wailing cry, "and the blame is mine--it was i--it was i! i hated wiwâstè, for she was fair, and my brave was caught in her net of hair. i turned his love to a bitter hate; i nourished revenge, and i pricked his pride; till the feast of the virgins i bade him wait. he had his revenge, but he died--he died! and the blame is mine--it was i--it was i! and his spirit burns me; i die--i die!" thus, alone in her lodge and her agonies, she wails to the winds of the night, and dies. but where is wiwâstè? her swift feet flew to the somber shades of the tangled thicket. she hid in the copse like a wary cricket, and the fleetest hunters in vain pursue. seeing unseen from her hiding place, she sees them fly on the hurried chase; she sees their dark eyes glance and dart, as they pass and peer for a track or trace, and she trembles with fear in the copse apart, lest her nest be betrayed by her throbbing heart. weary the hours; but the sun at last went down to his lodge in the west, and fast the wings of the spirits of night were spread o'er the darkling woods and wiwâstè's head. then slyly she slipped from her snug retreat, and guiding her course by wazíya's star,[ ] that shone through the shadowy forms afar, she northward hurried with silent feet; and long ere the sky was aflame in the east, she was leagues from the spot of the fatal feast. 'twas the hoot of the owl that the hunters heard, and the scattering drops of the threat'ning shower, and the far wolf's cry to the moon preferred. their ears were their fancies--the scene was weird, and the witches[ ] dance at the midnight hour. she leaped the brook and she swam the river; her course through the forest wiwâstè wist by the star that gleamed through the glimmering mist that fell from the dim moon's downy quiver. in her heart she spoke to her spirit-mother: "look down from your _teepee_, o starry spirit. the cry of wiwâstè. o mother, hear it; and touch the heart of my cruel father. he hearkened not to a virgin's words; he listened not to a daughter's wail. o give me the wings of the thunder-birds, for his were wolves[ ] follow wiwâstè's trail; and guide my flight to the far _hóhè_-- to the sheltering lodge of my brave chaskè." the shadows paled in the hazy east, and the light of the kindling morn increased. the pale-faced stars fled one by one, and hid in the vast from the rising sun. from woods and waters and welkin soon fled the hovering mists of the vanished moon. the young robins chirped in their feathery beds, the loon's song shrilled like a winding horn, and the green hills lifted their dewy heads to greet the god of the rising morn. she reached the rim of the rolling prairie-- the boundless ocean of solitude; she hid in the feathery hazel-wood, for her heart was sick and her feet were weary; she fain would rest, and she needed food. alone by the billowy, boundless prairies, she plucked the cones of the scarlet berries; in feathering copse and the grassy field she found the bulbs of the young _tipsânna_,[ ] and the sweet _medó_ [ ] that the meadows yield. with the precious gift of his priceless manna god fed his fainting and famished child. at night again to the northward far she followed the torch of wazíya's star; for leagues away o'er the prairies green, on the billowy vast, may a man be seen, when the sun is high and the stars are low; and the sable breast of the strutting crow looms up like the form of the buffalo. the bloody river [ ] she reached at last, and boldly walked in the light of day, on the level plain of the valley vast; nor thought of the terrible chippeway. she was safe from the wolves of her father's band, but she trod on the treacherous "bloody land." [illustration] and lo--from afar o'er the level plain-- as far as the sails of a ship at sea may be seen as they lift from the rolling main-- a band of warriors rode rapidly. she shadowed her eyes with her sun-browned hand; all backward streamed on the wind her hair, and terror spread o'er her visage fair, as she bent her brow to the far-off band. for she thought of the terrible chippeway-- the fiends that the babe and the mother slay; and yonder they came in their war-array! she hid like a grouse in the meadow-grass, and moaned--"i am lost!--i am lost! alas, and why did i fly from my native land to die by the cruel ojibway's hand?" and on rode the braves. she could hear the steeds come galloping on o'er the level meads; and lowly she crouched in the waving grass, and hoped against hope that the braves would pass. they have passed; she is safe--she is safe! ah no! they have struck her trail and the hunters halt. like wolves on the track of the bleeding doe, that grappled breaks from the dread assault, dash the warriors wild on wiwâstè's trail. she flies--but what can her flight avail? her feet are fleet, but the flying feet of the steeds of the prairies are fleeter still; and where can she fly for a safe retreat? but hark to the shouting--"_ihó!--ihó!_"[ ] rings over the wide plain sharp and shrill. she halts, and the hunters come riding on; but the horrible fear from her heart is gone, for it is not the shout of the dreaded foe; 'tis the welcome shout of her native land! up galloped the chief of the band, and lo-- the clutched knife dropped from her trembling hand; she uttered a cry and she swooned away; for there, on his steed in the blaze of day, on the boundless prairie so far away, with his polished bow and his feathers gay, sat the manly form of her own chaskè! there's a mote in my eye or a blot on the page, and i cannot tell of the joyful greeting; you may take it for granted, and i will engage, there were kisses and tears at the strange, glad meeting; for aye since the birth of the swift-winged years, in the desert drear, in the field of clover, in the cot, in the palace, and all the world over-- yea, away on the stars to the ultimate spheres, the greeting of love to the long-sought lover-- is tears and kisses and kisses and tears. but why did the lover so long delay? and whitherward rideth the chief to-day? as he followed the trail of the buffalo, from the _tees_ of _kapóza_ a maiden, lo, came running in haste o'er the drifted snow. she spoke to the chief of the tall _hóhè_: "wiwâstè requests that the brave chaskè will abide with his band and his coming delay till the moon when the strawberries are ripe and red, and then will the chief and wiwâstè wed-- when the feast of the virgins is past," she said. wiwâstè's wish was her lover's law; and so his coming the chief delayed till the mid may blossoms should bloom and fade-- but the lying runner was hârpstinà. and now with the gifts for the bridal day and his chosen warriors he took his way, and followed his heart to his moon-faced maid. and thus was the lover so long delayed; and so as he rode with his warriors gay, on that bright and beautiful summer day, his bride he met on the trail mid-way. god arms the innocent. he is there-- in the desert vast, in the wilderness, on the bellowing sea, in the lion's lair, in the mist of battle, and everywhere. in his hand he holds with a father's care the tender hearts of the motherless; the maid and the mother in sore distress he shields with his love and his tenderness; he comforts the widowed--the comfortless-- and sweetens her chalice of bitterness; he clothes the naked--the numberless-- his charity covers their nakedness-- and he feeds the famished and fatherless with the hand that feedeth the birds of air. let the myriad tongues of the earth confess his infinite love and his holiness; for his pity pities the pitiless, his mercy flows to the merciless; and the countless worlds in the realms above, revolve in the light of his boundless love. and what of the lovers? you ask, i trow. she told him all ere the sun was low-- why she fled from the feast to a safe retreat. she laid her heart at her lover's feet, and her words were tears and her lips were slow. as she sadly related the bitter tale his face was aflame and anon grew pale, and his dark eyes flashed with a brave desire, like the midnight gleam of the sacred fire. [ ] "_mitâwin,_"[ ] he said, and his voice was low, "thy father no more is the false little crow; but the fairest plume shall wiwâstè wear of the great _wanmdeè_ in her midnight hair. in my lodge, in the land of the tall _hóhè_, the robins will sing all the long summer day to the happy bride of the brave chaskè.'" aye, love is tested by stress and trial since the finger of time on the endless dial began its rounds, and the orbs to move in the boundless vast, and the sunbeams clove the chaos; but only by fate's denial are fathomed the fathomless depths of love. man is the rugged and wrinkled oak, and woman the trusting and tender vine that clasps and climbs till its arms entwine the brawny arms of the sturdy stock. the dimpled babes are the flowers divine that the blessing of god on the vine and oak with their cooing and blossoming lips invoke. to the pleasant land of the brave _hóhè_ wiwâstè rode with her proud chaskè. she ruled like a queen in his bountiful _tee_, and the life of the twain was a jubilee their wee ones climbed on the father's knee, and played with his plumes of the great _wanmdeè_. the silken threads of the happy years they wove into beautiful robes of love that the spirits wear in the lodge above; and time from the reel of the rolling spheres his silver threads with the raven wove; but never the stain of a mother's tears soiled the shining web of their happy years. when the wrinkled mask of the years they wore, and the raven hair of their youth was gray, their love grew deeper, and more and more; for he was a lover for aye and aye, and ever her beautiful, brave chaskè. through the wrinkled mask of the hoary years to the loving eyes of the lover aye the blossom of beautiful youth appears. at last, when their locks were as white as snow, beloved and honored by all the band, they silently slipped from their lodge below, and walked together, and hand in hand, o'er the shining path[ ] to the spirit-land, where the hills and the meadows for aye and aye are clad with the verdure and flowers of may, and the unsown prairies of paradise yield the golden maize and the sweet wild rice. there, ever ripe in the groves and prairies, hang the purple plums and the luscious berries, and the swarthy herds of the bison feed on the sun-lit slope and the waving mead; the dappled fawns from their coverts peep, and countless flocks on the waters sleep; and the silent years with their fingers trace no furrows for aye on the hunter's face. to the memory of my devoted wife dead and gone yet always with me i dedicate pauline the flower of my heart nursed into bloom by her loving care and ofttimes watered with her tears h.l.g. pauline _part i_ introduction fair morning sat upon the mountain-top, night skulking crept into the mountain-chasm. the silent ships slept in the silent bay; one broad blue bent of ether domed the heavens, one broad blue distance lay the shadowy land, one broad blue vast of silence slept the sea. now from the dewy groves the joyful birds in carol-concert sang their matin songs softly and sweetly--full of prayer and praise. then silver-chiming, solemn-voiced bells rung out their music on the morning air, and lisbon gathered to the festival in chapel and cathedral. choral hymns and psalms of sea-toned organs mingling rose with sweetest incense floating up to heaven, bearing the praises of the multitudes; and all was holy peace and holy happiness. a rumbling of deep thunders in the deep; the vast sea shuddered and the mountains groaned; up-heaved the solid earth--the nether rocks burst--and the sea--the earth--the echoing heavens thundered infernal ruin. on their knees the trembling multitudes received the shock, and dumb with sudden terror bowed their heads to toppling spire and plunging wall and dome. so shook the mighty north the sudden roar of treason thundering on the april air-- an earthquake shock that jarred the granite hills and westward rolled against th' eternal walls rock-built titanic--for a moment shook: uprose a giant and with iron hands grasped his huge hammer, claspt his belt of steel, and o'er the midgard-monster mighty thor loomed for the combat. peace--o blessed peace! the war-worn veterans hailed thee with a shout of alleluias;--homeward wound the trains, and homeward marched the bayonet-bristling columns to "_hail columbia_" from a thousand horns-- marched to the jubilee of chiming bells, marched to the joyful peals of cannon, marched with blazing banners and victorious songs into the outstretched arms of love and home. but there be columns--columns of the dead that slumber on an hundred battle-fields-- no bugle-blast shall waken till the trump of the archangel. o the loved and lost! for them no jubilee of chiming bells; for them no cannon-peal of victory; for them no outstretched arms of love and home. god's peace be with them. heroes who went down, wearing their stars, live in the nation's songs and stories--there be greater heroes still, that molder in unnumbered nameless graves erst bleached unburied on the fields of fame won by their valor. who will sing of these-- sing of the patriot-deeds on field and flood-- of these--the truer heroes--all unsung? where sleeps the modest bard in quaker gray who blew the pibroch ere the battle lowered, then pitched his tent upon the balmy beach? "snow-bound," i ween, among his native hills. and where the master hand that swept the lyre till wrinkled critics cried "excelsior"? gathering the "aftermath" in frosted fields. then, timid muse, no longer shake thy wings for airy realms and fold again in fear; a broken flight is better than no flight; be thine the task, as best you may, to sing the deeds of one who sleeps at gettysburg among the thousands in a common grave. the story of his life i bid you tell as it was told one windy winter night to veterans gathered around the festal board, fighting old battles over where the field ran red with wine, and all the battle-blare was merry laughter and the merry songs-- told when the songs were sung by him who heard the pith of it from the dying soldier's lips-- his captain--tell it as the captain told. the captain's story "well, comrades, let us fight one battle more; let the cock crow--we'll guard the camp till morn. and--since the singers and the merry ones are _hors de combat_--fill the cups again; nod if you must, but listen to a tale romantic--but the warp thereof is truth. when the old flag on sumter's sea-girt walls from its proud perch a fluttering ruin fell, i swore an oath as big as bunker hill; for i was younger then, nor battle-scarred, and full of patriot-faith and patriot-fire. "i raised a company of riflemen, marched to the front, and proud of my command, nor seeking higher, led them till the day of triumph and the nation's jubilee. among the first that answered to my call the hero came whose story you shall hear. 'tis better i describe him: he was young-- near two and twenty--neither short nor tall-- a slender student, and his tapering hands had better graced a maiden than a man: sad, thoughtful face--a wealth of raven hair brushed back in waves from forehead prominent; a classic nose--half roman and half greek; dark, lustrous eyes beneath dark, jutting brows, wearing a shade of sorrow, yet so keen, and in the storm of battle flashing fire. "'well, boy,' i said, 'i doubt if you will do; i need stout men for picket-line and march-- men that have bone and muscle--men inured to toil and hardships--men, in short, my boy, to march and fight and march and fight again.' a queer expression lit his earnest face-- half frown--half smile. "'well _try_ me.' that was all he answered, and i put him on the roll-- _paul douglas, private_--and he donned the blue. paul proved himself the best in my command; i found him first at _reveille_, and first in all the varied duties of the day. his rough-hewn comrades, bred to boisterous ways, jeered at the slender youth with maiden hands, nicknamed him 'nel,' and for a month or more kept up a fusillade of jokes and jeers. their jokes and jeers he heard but heeded not, or heeding did a kindly act for him that jeered him loudest; so the hardy men came to look up to paul as one above the level of their rough and roistering ways. he never joined the jolly soldier-sports, but ever was the first at bugle-call, mastered the drill and often drilled the men. fatigued with duty, weary with the march under the blaze of the midsummer sun, he murmured not--alike in sun or rain his utmost duty eager to perform, and ever ready--always just the same patient and earnest, sad and silent paul. "the day of battle came--that sabbath day, midsummer.[a] hot and blistering as the flames of prairie-fires wind-driven, the burning sun blazed down upon us and the blinding dust wheeled in dense clouds and covered all our ranks, as we marched on to battle. then the roar of batteries broke upon us. glad indeed that music to my soldiers, and they cheered and cheered again and boasted--all but paul-- and shouted _'on to richmond!'_--he alone was silent--but his eyes were full of fire. [a] the first battle of bull run, july , . "then came the order--_'forward, double quick!'_ and we rushed into battle--formed our line facing the foe--the ambushed, deadly foe, hid in the thicket, with the union flag-- a cheat--hung out before it--luring us into a blazing hell. the battle broke with wildest fury on us--crashed and roared the rolling thunder of continuous fire. we broke and rallied--charged and broke again, and rallied still--broke counter-charge and charged loud-yelling, furious, on the hidden foe;-- met thrice our numbers and came flying back disordered and disheartened. yet again i strove to rally my discouraged men, but hell was fairly howling;--only paul-- eager, but bleeding from a bullet-wound in the left arm--came bounding to my side. but at that moment i was struck and fell-- fell prostrate; and a swooning sense of death came on me, and i saw and heard no more of battle on that sabbath. "i awoke, confined and jolted in an ambulance piled with the wounded--driven recklessly by one who chiefly cared to save himself. dizzy and faint i raised my head: my wound was not as dangerous as it might have been-- a scalp-wound on the temple; there, you see--" he put his finger on the ugly scar-- "half an inch deeper and some soldier friend, among the veterans gathered here to-night, perchance had told a briefer tale than mine. "in front and rear i saw the reckless rout-- a broken army flying panic-struck-- our proud brigades of undulating steel that marched at sunrise under blazoned flags, singing the victory ere the cannon roared, and eager for the honors of the day-- like bison indian-chased on windy plains, now broken and commingled fled the field. words of command were only wasted breath; colonels and brigadiers, on foot and soiled, were pushed and jostled by the hurrying hordes. anon the cry of _'cavalry!'_ arose, and army-teams came dashing down the road and plunged into the panic. all the way was strewn with broken wagons, battery-guns, tents, muskets, knapsacks and exhausted men. my men were mingled with the lawless crowd, and in the swarm behind us, there was paul-- silent and soldier-like, with knapsack on and rifle on his shoulder, guarding me and marching on behind the ambulance. so all that dark and dreadful night we marched, each man a captain--captain of himself-- nor cared for orders on that wild retreat to safety from disaster. all that night, silent and soldier-like my wounded paul marched close behind and kept his faithful watch. for ever and anon the jaded men, clamorous and threat'ning, sought to clamber in; whom paul drove off at point of bayonet, wielding his musket with his good right arm. but when the night was waning to the morn i saw that he was weary and i made a place for paul and begged him to get in. 'no, captain; no,' he answered,--'i will walk-- i'm making bone and muscle--learning how to march and fight and march and fight again.' that silenced me, and we went rumbling on. till morning found us safe at arlington. "a month off duty and a faithful nurse worked wonders and my head was whole again-- nay--to be candid--cracked a little yet. my nurse was paul. albeit his left arm, flesh-wounded, pained him sorely for a time, with filial care he dressed my battered head, and wrote for me to anxious friends at home-- but never wrote a letter for himself. thinking of this one day, i spoke of it:-- a cloud came o'er his face. "'my friends,' he said, 'are here among my comrades in the camp.' that made a mystery and i questioned him: he gave no answer--or evasive ones-- seeming to shrink from question, and to wrap himself within himself and live within. "again we joined our regiment and marched; over the hills and dales of maryland along the famous river wound our way. on picket-duty at the frequent fords for weary, laggard months were we employed guarding the broad potomac, while our foes, stealthily watching for their human game, lurked like apaches on the wooded shores. bands of enemy's cavalry by night along the line of river prowled, and sought to dash across and raid in maryland. three regiments guarded miles of river-bank, and drilled alternately, and one was ours. off picket duty, alike in fair or foul, with knapsacks on and bearing forty rounds, from morn till night we drilled--battalion-drill-- often at double-quick for weary hours-- bearing our burdens in the blazing sun, till strong men staggered from the ranks and fell. aye, many a hardy man in those hard days was drilled and disciplined into his grave. arose murmurs of discontent, and loud complaints fell on dull ears till patience was worn out and mutiny was hinted. as for paul i never heard a murmur from his lips; nor did he ask a reason for the things unreasonable and hard required of him, but straightway did his duty just as if the nation's fate hung on it. i pitied paul; slender of form and delicate, he bore the toils and duties of the hardiest. ill from exposure, or fatigued and worn, on picket hungered, shivering in the rain, or sweltering in full dress, with knapsack on, beneath the blaze of the mid-summer sun, he held his spirit--always still the same patient and earnest, sad and silent paul. "we posted pickets two by two. at night, by turns each comrade slept and took the watch. once in september, in a drenching storm, three days and nights with neither tent nor fire paul and a comrade held a picket-post. the equinox raged madly. chilling winds in angry gusts roared from the northern hills, dashing the dismal rain-clouds into showers that fell in torrents over all the land. in camp the soldiers crouched in dripping tents, or shivered by the camp-fires. i was ill and gladly sought the shelter of a hut. orders were strict and often hard to bear-- nor tents nor fire upon the picket-posts-- cold rations and a canopy of storms. i pitied paul and would have called him in, but that i had no man to take his place; nor did i know he took upon himself a double task. his comrade on the post was ill, and so he made a shelter for him with his own blankets and a bed within; and took the watch of both upon himself. and on the third night near the dawn of day, in rubber cloak stole in upon the post a pompous major, on the nightly round, unchallenged. all fatigued and drenched with rain, still on his post with rifle in his hand-- against a sheltering elm paul stood and slept. muttering of death the brutal major stormed, then pitiless pricked the comrade with his sword, and from his shelter drove him to the watch, burning with fever. there paul interposed and said: "'i ask no mercy at your hands; i shall not whimper, but my comrade here is ill of fever; i have stood his watch: sir, if a human heart beats in your breast, send him to camp, or he will surely die.' "the pompous brute--vaingloriously great in straps and buttons--haughtily silenced paul, hand-bound and sent him guarded to the camp, and the poor comrade shivering stood the watch till dawn of day and i was made aware. among the true were some vainglorious fools called by the fife and drum from native mire to lord and strut in shoulder-straps and buttons. scrubs, born to brush the boots of gentlemen, by sudden freak of fortune found themselves masters of better men, and lorded it as only base and brutish natures can-- braves on parade and cowards under fire. "i interceded in my paul's behalf, else he had suffered graver punishment, but as himself for mercy would not beg-- 'a stubborn boy,' our bluff old colonel said-- to extra duty for a month he went unmurmuring, storm or shine. when the cold rain poured down most pitiless paul, drenched and wan, guarded the baggage and the braying mules. when the hot sun at mid-day blazed and burned, like the red flame on mauna loa's top, withering the grass and parching earth and air, i often saw him knapsacked and full-dressed, drilling the raw recruits at double-quick; and yet he wore a patient countenance, and went about his duty earnestly as if it were a pleasure to obey. "the month wore off and mad disaster came-- gorging the blood of heroes at ball's bluff. 'twas there the brave, unfaltering baker fell fighting despair between the jaws of death. quenched was the flame that fired a thousand hearts; hushed was the voice that shook the senate-walls, and rang defiance like a bugle-blast. broad o'er the rugged mountains to the north fell the incessant rain till, like a sea, him and the deadly ambush of the foe the swollen river rolled and roared between. brave baker saw the peril, but not his the soul to shrink or falter, though he saw his death-warrant in his orders. forth he led his proud brigade across the roaring chasm, firm and unfaltering into the chasm of death. from morn till mid-day in a single boat unfit, by companies, the fearless band passed over the raging river; then advanced upon the ambushed foe. we heard the roll of volleys in the forest, and uprose, from out the wood, a cloud of battle-smoke. then came the yell of foemen charging down rank upon rank and furious. hand to hand, the little band of heroes, flanked and pressed, fought thrice their numbers; fearless baker led in prodigies of valor; front and flank volleyed the deadly rifles; in the rear the rapid, raging river rolled and roared. along the maryland shore a mile below, eager to cross and reinforce our friends, ten thousand soldiers lay upon their arms; and we had boats to spare. in all our ranks there was not one who did not comprehend the peril and the instant need of aid. chafing we waited orders. we could see that baker's men were fighting in retreat; for ever nearer o'er the forest rolled the smoke of battle. orders came at last, and up along the shore our regiment ran, eager to aid our comrades, but too late! baker had fallen in the battle-front; he fought like spartan and like spartan fell defiant, clutching at the throat of fate. their leader lost, confusion followed fast; wild panic and red slaughter swept the field. powerless to saves we saw the farther shore covered with wounded and wild fugitives-- our own defeated and defenseless friends. shattered and piled with wounded men the boat pushed off to brave the river, while the foe pressed on the charge with fury, and refused mercy to the vanquished. officers and men, cheating the savage foemen of their spoils, their flags and arms into the gurgling depths despairing hurled, and following plunged amain. as numerous as the wild aquatic flocks that float in autumn on lake nepigon, the heads of swimmers moved upon the flood. and still upon the shore a spartan few-- shoulder to shoulder--back to back, as one-- amid the din and clang of clashing steel, surrounded held the swarming foes at bay. as in the pre-historic centuries-- unnumbered ages ere the pyramids-- whereof we read on pre-diluvian bones and fretted flints in excavated caves, when savage men abode in rocky dens, and wrought their weapons from the fiery flint, and clothed their tawny thighs in lion-skins-- before the mouth of some well-guarded cave, where smoked the savory flesh of mammoth, came the great cave-bear unbidden to the feast. around the monster swarm the brawny men, wielding with sinewy arms and savage cries their flinty spears and tomahawks of stone. erect old bruin growls upon his foes, and swings with mighty power his ponderous paws-- woe unto him who feels the crushing blow-- till, bleeding from an hundred wounds and blind, with sudden plunge he falls at last, and dies amid the shouts of his wild enemies. so fought the spartan few, till one by one, they fell surrounded by a wall of foes. the river boiled beneath the storm of lead; weighed down with wounded comrades many sunk, but more went down with bullets in their heads. o! it was pitiful. the outstretched hands of men that erst had faced the battle-storm unshaken, grasping now in wild despair, wrung cries of pity from us. vain our fire-- the range too long--it fell upon our friends; at which the foemen yelled their mad delight. a storm of bullets poured upon the boat, mangling the mangled on her, till at last, shattered and over-laden, suddenly she made a lurch to leeward and went down. "a shallow boat lay moored upon the shore; our gallant colonel called for volunteers in mercy's name to man it and push out. but all could see the peril. stout the heart would dare to face the raging flood and fire, and to his call responded not a man-- save paul and one who perished at the helm. they went as if at bugle-call to drill; their comrades said, 'they never will return.' stoutly and steadily paul rowed the boat athwart the turbid river's sullen tide, and reached the wounded struggling in the flood. bravely they worked away and lifted in the helpless till the boat would hold no more; others they helped to holds upon the rails, then pulled away the over-laden craft. we cheered them from the shore. the maddened foe with furious volleys answered--hitting oft the little craft of mercy--hands anon let go their holds and sunk into the deep. and in that storm paul's gallant comrade fell. trimming his craft with caution paul could make but little headway with a single oar-- clutched in despair and madly wrenched away by drowning souls the other. firm and cool paul stood unscathed; then fell a sudden shower that broke his bended oar-stem at the blade. down to the brink we crept and stretched our hands, and shouted, 'overboard, paul! and save yourself.' "he stood a moment as if all were lost, then caught the rope, and stretching forth his hand, waved to the foe and plunged into the flood. slowly he towed the clumsy craft and swam, down-drifting with the rapid, rolling stream. cheering him on adown the shore we ran; the current lent its aid and bore him in toward us, and beyond the range at last of foemen's fire he safely came to land, mooring his boat amid a storm of cheers. "confined in hospital three days he lay fatigued and feverous, but tender hands nursed and restored him. our old colonel came and thanked him--patting paul paternally-- and praised his daring. 'my brave boy,' he said, 'had i a regiment of such men, by jove! i'd hew a path to richmond and to fame.' paul made reply, and in his smile and tone mingled a touch of sarcasm: "'thank you, sir; but let me add--i fear the wary foe would nab your regiment napping on the field. you have forgotten, colonel--not so fast-- i am the man that slept upon his post.' our bluff old colonel laughed and turned away; ten minutes later came his kind reply-- a basketful of luxuries from his mess. "paul marched and fought and marched and fought again, patient and earnest through the bootless toils and fiery trials of that dread campaign upon the peninsula. 'twas fitly called 'campaign of battles.' aye, it sorely pierced the scarred and bleeding nation, and drew blood deep from her vitals till she shook and reeled, like some huge giant staggering to his fall-- blinded with blood, yet struggling with his soul, and stretching forth his ponderous, brawny arms, like samson in the temple, to o'erwhelm and crush his mocking enemies in his fall. "ah, malvern! you remember malvern hill-- that night of dreadful butchery! round the top of the entrenchèd summit, parked and aimed, blazed like vesuvius when he bellows fire and molten lava into the midnight heavens, an hundred crashing cannon, and the hill shook to the thunder of the mighty guns, as ocean trembles to the bursting throes of submarine volcanoes; and the shells from the embattled gun-boats--fiery fiends-- shrieked on the night and through the ether hissed like hell's infernals. line supporting line, from base to summit round the blazing hill, our infantry was posted. crowned with fire, and zoned by many a burning, blazing belt from head to foot, and belching sulphurous flames, the embattled hill appeared a raging fiend-- the lucifer of hell let loose to reign over a world wrapt in the final fires. "in solid columns massed our frenzied foes beat out their life against the blazing hill-- broke and re-formed and madly charged again, and thundered like the storm-lashed, furious sea beating in vain against the solid cliffs. foremost in from our veteran regiment breasted the brunt of battle, but we bent beneath the onsets as the red-hot bar bends to the sledge, until our furious foes-- mown as the withered prairie-grass is mown by wild october fires--fell back and left a field of bloody agony and death about the base, and victory on the hill. "i lost a score of riflemen that night; my first lieutenant--his last battle over-- lay cut in twain upon the battle-line. with lantern dim wide o'er the slaughter-field i searched at midnight for my wounded men, but chiefly searched for paul. an hour or more i sought among the groaning and the dead, stooping and to the dim light turning up the ghastly faces, till at last i found him whom i sought, and on the outer line-- feet to the foe and silent face to heaven-- death pale and bleeding from a ragged wound pleading with feeble voice to let him be and die upon the field, we bore him thence; and tenderly his comrades carried him, sheltered with blankets, on the weary march at dead of night in dismal storm begun. we made a stand at harrison's, and there with careful hands we laid him on a cot. now i had learned to prize the noble boy; my heart was touched with pity. patiently i watched o'er paul and bathed his fevered brow, and pressed the cooling sponge upon his lips, and washed his wound and gave him nourishment. 'twas all in vain, the surgeon said. i felt that i could save him and i kept my watch. a rib was crushed--beneath it one could see the throbbing vitals--torn as we supposed, but found unwounded. in his feverish sleep he often moaned and muttered mysteries, and, dreaming, spoke in low and tender tones as if some loved one sat beside his cot. i questioned him and sought the secret key to solve his mystery, but all in vain. a month of careful nursing turned the scale, and he began to gain upon his wound. propt in his cot one evening as he sat and i sat by him, thus i questioned him: 'there is a mystery about your life that i would gladly fathom. paul, i think you well may trust me, and i fain would hear the story of your life; right well i know there is a secret sorrow in your heart.' [illustration: stooping and to the dim light turning up the ghastly faces, till i at last i found him whom i sought.] "he turned his face and fixed his lustrous eyes upon mine own inquiringly, and held his gaze upon me till his vacant stare told me full well his thoughts had wandered back into the depth of his own silent soul; then he looked down and sadly smiled and said: "'captain, i have no history--not one page; my book of life is but a blotted blank. let it be sealed; i would not open it, even to one who saved a worthless life, only to add a few more leaves in blank to the blank volume. all that i now am i offer to my country. if i live and from this cot walk forth, 'twill only be to march and fight and march and fight again,' until a surer aim shall bring me down where care and kindness can no more avail. under our country's flag a soldier's death i hope to die and leave no name behind. my only wish is this--for what i am, or have been, or have hoped to be, is now a blank misfortune. i will say no more.' "i questioned paul and pressed him further still to tell his story, but he only shook his head in silence sadly and lay back and closed his eyes and whispered--'all is blank.' that night he muttered often in his sleep; i could not catch the sense of what he said; i caught a name that he repeated oft-- _pauline_--so softly whispered that i knew she was the blissful burden of his dreams. "two moons had waxed and waned, and paul arose, came to the camp and shared my tent and bed. while in the hospital he helpless lay-- to him unknown, and as the choice of all-- came his promotion to the vacant rank of him who fell at malvern. but, alas, say what we would he would not take the place. to us who importuned him, he replied: 'comrades and friends, i did not join your ranks for honor or for profit. all i am-- a wreck perhaps of what i might have been-- i freely offer in our country's cause; and in her cause it is my wish to serve a private soldier; i aspire to naught but victory--and there be better men-- braver and hardier--such should have the place.' "his comrades cheered, but paul, methought, was sad. one evening as he sat upon his couch, communing with himself as he was wont, i stood before him; looking in his face, i said, '_pauline_--her name is then, _pauline_.' all of a sudden up he rose amazed, and looked upon me with such startled eyes that i was pained and feared that i had done a wrong to him whom i had learned to love. then he sat down upon his couch and groaned, pressing his hand upon his wound, and said: 'captain, i pray you, tell me truthfully, wherefore you speak that name.' "i told him all that i had heard him mutter in his dreams. he listened calmly to the close and said: 'my friend, if you have any kind regard for me who suffer more than you may know, i pray you utter not that name again.' and thereupon he turned and hid his face. "there was a mystery i might not fathom, there was a history i might not hear: nor could i further press that saddened heart to pour its secret sorrow in my ears. thereafter paul was tenant of my tent-- sat at my mess and slept upon my couch, save when his duty called him from my side, and not a word escaped his lips or mine about his secret--yet how oft i found my eyes upon him and my bridled tongue prone to a question; but that solemn face forbade me and he wore his mystery. "at that stern battle on antietam's banks, where gallant hooker led the fierce attack, paul bore a glorious part. our starry flag, before a whirlwind of terrific fire, advancing proudly on the foe, went down. grim death and pale-faced panic seized the ranks. paul caught the flag and waving it aloft rallied our regiment. he came out unscathed. "at fredericksburg and chancellorsville he fought: grim in disaster--bravest in defeat, he leaped not into danger without cause, nor shrunk he from it though a gulf of fire, when duty bade him face it. all his aim-- to win the victory; applause and praise he almost hated; grimly he endured the fulsome flattery of his comrades nerved by his calm courage up to manlier deeds. "i saw him angered once--if one might call his sullen silence anger--as by night across the rappahannock, from the field where brave and gallant 'stonewall' jackson fell, with hopeless hearts and heavy steps we marched. such sullen wrath on other human face i never saw in all those bloody years. one evening after, as he read to me the fulsome general order of our chief-- congratulating officers and men on their achievements in the late defeat-- his handsome face grew rigid as he read, and as he closed, down like a thunder-clap upon the mess-chest fell his clinchèd fist: 'fit pap for fools!' he said--'an iron duke had ground the southern legions into dust, or, by the gods!--the field of chancellorsville had furnished graves for ninety thousand men!'[b] "that dark disaster sickened many a soul; stout hearts were sad and cowards cried for peace. the vulture, perched hard by the eagle's crag, loud cawed his fellows from afar to feast. ill-omened bird--his carrion-cries were vain! again our veteran eagles plumed their wings, and forth he fled from montezuma's shores-- a dastard flight--betraying unto death him whom he dazzled with a bauble crown. just retribution followed swift and sure-- germania's eagles plucked him at sedan. a gloomy month wore off, and then the news that lee, emboldened by his late success, had poured his legions upon northern soil, rung through the camps, and thrilled the mighty heart of the grand army. louder than the roar of brazen cannon on the battle-field. then rose and rolled our thunder-rounds of cheers. [b] hooker had , men at chancellorsville. we saw the dawn of victory--we should meet our wary foe upon familiar soil. we cheered the news, we cheered the marching-orders, we cheered our brave commander till the tears ran down his cheeks. up from its sullen gloom leaped the grand army, as if god had writ with fiery finger 'thwart the vault of heaven a solemn promise of swift victory. "we marched. as rolls the deep, resistless flood of mississippi, when the rains of june have swelled his thousand northern fountain-lakes above their barriers--rolls with restless roar, anon through rock-built gorges, and anon down through the prairied valley to the sea, gleaming and glittering in the summer sun, by field and forest on his winding way, so stretched and rolled the mighty column forth, winding among the hills and pouring out along the vernal valleys; so the sheen of moving bayonets glittered in the sun. and as we marched there rolled upon the air, up from the vanguard-corps, a choral chant, feeble at first and far and far away, but gathering volume as it rolled along and regiment after regiment joined the choir, until an hundred thousand voices swelled the surging chorus, and the solid hills shook to the thunder of the mighty song. and ere it died away along the line, the hill-tops caught the chorus--rolled away from peak to peak the pealing thunder-chant, clear as the chime of bells on sabbath morn: "'john brown's body lies moldering in the grave; john brown's body lies moldering in the grave; john brown's body lies moldering in the grave; but his soul is marching on. glory, glory, halleluia! glory, glory, halleluia! glory, glory, halleluia! his soul is marching on!' "and far away the mountains echoed and re-echoed still-- "'_glory, glory, halleluia! glory, glory, halleluia! glory, glory, halleluia! his soul is marching on!'_ "until the winds bore the retreating echoes southward far, and the dull distance murmured in our ears. "fast by the field where gallant baker fell, we crossed the famous river and advanced to frederick. there a transitory cloud gloomed the grand army--hooker was relieved: fell from command at victory's open gate the dashing, daring, soul-inspiring chief, the idol of his soldiers, and they mourned. he had his faults--they were not faults of heart-- his gravest--fiery valor. since that day, the self-same fault--or virtue--crowned a chief with laurel plucked on rugged kenesaw. envy it was that wrought the hero's fall, envy, with hydra-heads and serpent-tongues, hissed on the wolfish clamors of the press. o fickle fortune, how thy favors fall-- like rain upon the just and the unjust! throughout the army, as the soldiers read the farewell-order, gloomy murmurs ran; but our new chieftain cheered our drooping hearts. "that meade would choose his battle-ground we knew, and if not his the gallant dash and dare that on antietam's bloody battle-field snatched victory from defeat, our faith was firm that he would fight to win, and hold the reins firmly in hand, nor sacrifice our lives in wild assaults and fruitless daring deeds. "from taneytown, at mid-day, on the hills of gettysburg we heard the cannon boom. our gallant hancock rode full speed away; we under gibbon swiftly following him at midnight camped on cemetery hill. sharp the initial combat of the grand on-coming battle, and the sulphurous smoke hung in blue wreaths above the silent vale between two hostile armies, mightier far than met upon the field of marathon. or where the proud carthago bowed to rome. hope of the north and liberty--the one; pride of the south--the other. on the hills-- a rolling range of rugged, broken hills, stretching from round-top northward, bending off and butting down upon a silver stream-- in open field our veteran regiments lay. facing our battle-line and parallel-- beyond the golden valley to the west-- lay seminary ridge--a crest of hills covered with emerald groves and fields of gold ripe for the harvest: on this rolling range, as numerous as the swarming ocean-fowl that perch in squadrons on some barren isle far in the arctic sea when summer's sun with slanting spears invades the icy realm, the southern legions lay upon their arms. as countless as the winter-evening stars that glint and glow above the frosted fields twinkled and blazed upon that crest of hills the camp-fires of the foe. two mighty hosts, ready and panoplied for deadliest war, and eager for the combat where the prize of victory was empire--for the foe an empire borne upon the bended backs of toiling slaves in millions--but for us, an empire grounded on the rights of man-- lay on their arms awaiting innocent morn to light the field for slaughter to begin. "silent above us spread the dusky heavens, silent below us lay the smoky vale, silent beyond, the dreadful crest of hills. anon the neigh of horse, a sentry's call, or rapid hoof-beats of a flying steed bearing an aid and orders, broke the dread, portentous silence. i was worn and slept. "the call of bugles wakened me. the dawn was stealing softly o'er the shadowy land, and morning grew apace. broad in the east uprose above the crest of hazy hills like some broad shield by fabled giant borne, the golden sun, and flashed upon the field. ripe for the harvest stood the golden grain, nodding on gentle slopes and dewy hills. ready for the harvest death's grim reapers stood waiting the signal with impatient steel; and morning passed, and mid-day. here and there the crack of rifles on the picket-line, or boom of solitary cannon broke the myriad-voiced and dreadful monotone. so fled the anxious hours until the hills sent forth their silent shadows to the east-- and then their batteries opened on our left advanced into the valley. all along the rolling crest of seminary ridge rolled up the smoke of cannon. answered then the grim artillery on our chain of hills' and heaven was hideous with the bellowing boom, the whiz of shot, the infernal shrieks of shells. down from the hills their charging columns came a glittering mass of steel. as when the snow piled by an hundred winters on the peak of cloud-robed bernard thunders down the cliffs, nor rocks nor forests stay the mighty mass, and men and flocks in terror fly the death, so thundering fell the columns of the foe, crushing through sickles' corps in front and flank; and, roaring onward like a mighty wind, they rushed for little round-top--rugged hill, key to our left and center--all exposed-- manned by a broken battery half unmanned. but hancock saw the peril. on stalwart steed foam-flecked, wide-nostriled, panting like a hound, that stalwart soldier--spartan to the soles-- came dashing down where, prone along the ridge upon the right, our sheltered regiment lay. '_by the left flank, forward--double-quick!_'--we sprang and dashed for little round-top; formed our line flanking the broken battery. up the slope, like frightened sheep when howling wolves pursue, fled sickles' men in panic: hard behind on came the rebel columns. hat in hand waving and shouting to his eager corps-- rode gallant longstreet leading on the foe. "where yonder field-wall bounds the trampled wheat by grove and meadow, see--among the trees-- their bayonets gleam advancing. line on line, column on column, in the field beyond, their hurrying ranks crowd glittering on and on. high at the head their flaunting colors fly; high o'er the roar their wild, triumphant yell shrills like the scream of panthers. "hancock's voice rang down our lines above the cannons' roar: _'advance, and take those colors'_[c]--adown the slope like bengal tigers springing at the hounds, we sprang and met them at the border wall: muzzle to muzzle--steel to steel--we met, and fought like romans and like romans fell. even as a cyclone, growling thunder, roars down through a dusky forest, and its path is strown with broken and uprooted pines promiscuous piled in broad and broken swaths, so crashed our volleys through their serried ranks, mowing great swaths of death; yet on and on, closing the gaps and yelling like the fiends that dante heard along the gulf of hell, still came our furious foes. a cloud of smoke-- dense, sulphurous, stifling--covered all our ranks. our steady, deadly rifles crackled still, and still their crashing volleys rolled and roared. our rifles blazed upon the blaze below; the blaze below upon the blaze above, and in the blaze the buzz of myriad bees whose stings were deadlier than the libyan asp. five times our colors fell--five times arose defiant, flapping on the broken wall. [c] these are the very words used by general hancock on this occasion. "we hold the perilous breach; on either hand our foes out-flank us, leap the sheltering wall and pour their deadly, enfilading fire. god shield our shattered ranks!--god help us! "ho! 'stars and stripes' on the right!--hurra!--hurra! the green mountain boys to our aid!--hurra!--hurra. cannon-roar down on the left!--our batteries are there-- hurling hot hell-fire'--see!--like sickled corn the close-ranked foemen fall in toppling swaths: but still with hurried steps and steady steel they close the gaps--like madmen they press on! with one wild yell they rush upon the wall! lo from our lines a sheet of crackling fire scorches their grimy faces--back they reel and tumble--down and down--a writhing mass of slaughter and defeat! "leaped on the wall a thousand blues and swung their caps in air, thundering their wild _hurra!_ above the roar and crash of cannon;--victory was ours. back to his crest of hills the baffled foe reluctant turned and fled the storm of death. "the smoke of battle floated from the field, and lo the woodside piled with slaughter-heaps! and lo the meadow dotted with the slain! and lo the ranks of dead and dying men that fighting fell behind the broken wall! "only a handful of my men remained; the rest lay dead or wounded on the field; nor skulked their captain, but by grace was spared. behold the miracle!--this bible holds, embedded in its leaves, the rebel lead aimed at my heart. but here a scratch and there-- not worth the mention where so many fell. paul, foremost ever in the deadly hail, as if protected by a shield unseen, escaped unscathed. "we camped upon the hill. night hovered o'er us on her dusky wings; then all along our lines upon the hills blazed up the evening camp-fires. facing us beyond the smoke-robed valley sparkled up a chain of fires on seminary ridge. a hum of mingled voices filled the air. as when upon the vast, hoarse-moaning sea and all along the rock-built somber shore murmurs the menace of the coming storm-- the muttering of the tempest from afar, the plash and seethe of surf upon the sand, the roll of distant thunder in the heavens, unite and blend in one prevailing voice-- so rose the mingled murmurs of our camps, so rose the groans and moans of wounded men along the slope and valley, and so rolled from yonder frowning parallel of hills the muttered menace of our baffled foes; and so from camp to camp and hill to hill rolled the deep mutter and the dreadful moan of an hundred thousand voices blent in one. "that night a multitude of friends and foes slept soundly--but they slept to wake no more. but few indeed among the living slept; we lay upon our arms and courted sleep with open eyes and ears: the fears and hopes that centered in the half-fought battle held the balm of slumber from our weary limbs. anon the rattle of the random fire broke on our drowsy ears and startled us, as one is startled by some horrid dream; whereat old veterans muttered in their sleep. "midnight had passed, and i lay wakeful still, when paul arose and sat upon the sward. he said: 'i cannot sleep; unbidden thoughts that will not down crowd on my restless brain. captain, i know not how, but still i know that i shall see but one more sunrise. morn will bring the clash of arms--to-morrow's sun will look upon unnumbered ghastly heaps and gory ranks of dead and dying men, and ere it sink beyond the western hills up from this field will roll a mighty shout victorious, echoed over all the land, proclaiming joy to freemen everywhere. and i shall fall. i cannot tell you how i know it--but i feel it in my soul. i pray that death may spare me till i hear our shout of _"victory!"_ rolling o'er these hills: then will i lay me down and die in peace.' "i lightly said--'sheer superstition, paul; i'll wager a month's pay you'll live to fight a dozen battles yet. they ill become a gallant soldier on the battle field-- such grandam superstitions. you have fought ever like a hero--do you falter now?' "'captain,' he said, 'i shall not falter now, but gladlier will i hail the rising sun. death has no terror for a heart like mine: say what you may and call it what you will-- i know that i shall fall to rise no more before the sunset of the coming day. if this be superstition--still i know; if this be fear it will not hold me back.' i answered: "'friend, i hope this prophecy will prove you a false prophet; but, my paul, have you no farewells for your friends at home? no message for a nearer, dearer one?' "'none; there is none i knew in other days knows where or what i am. so let it be. if there be those--not many--who may care for one who cares so little for himself, surely my soldier-name in the gazette among the killed will bring no pang to them. and then he laid himself upon the sward; perhaps he slept--i know not, for fatigue o'ercame me and i slept. "the picket guns at random firing wakened me. the morn came stealing softly o'er the somber hills; dark clouds of smoke hung hovering o'er the field. blood-red as risen from a sea of blood, the tardy sun as if in dread arose, and hid his face in the uprising smoke. as when the pale moon, envious of the glow and gleam and glory of the god of day, creeps in by stealth between the earth and him, eclipsing all his glory, and the green of hills and dales is changed to yellowish dun, so fell the strange and lurid light of morn. and as i gazed i heard the hunger-cries of vultures circling on their dusky wings above the smoke-hid valley; then they plunged to gorge themselves upon the slaughter-heaps, as at the buddhist temples in siam whereto the hideous vultures flock to feast with famished dogs upon the pauper dead. "the day wore on. two mighty armies stood defiant--watching--dreading to assault; each hoping that the other would assault and madly dash against its glittering steel. as in the jungles of the chambezè-- glaring defiance with their fiery eyes-- two tawny lions--rival monarchs--meet and fright the forest with their horrid roar; but ere they close in bloody combat crouch and wait and watch for vantage in attack; so on their bannered hills the opposing hosts, eager to grapple in the tug of death, waited and watched for vantage in the fight. noon came. the fire of pickets died away. all eyes were turned to seminary ridge, for lo our sullen foemen--park on park-- had massed their grim artillery on our corps. hoarse voices sunk to whispers or were hushed; the rugged hills stood listening in awe; so dread the ominous silence that i heard the hearts of soldiers throbbing along the line. "up from yon battery curled a cloud of smoke, shrieked o'er our heads a solitary shell,-- then instantly in horrid concert roared two hundred cannon on the rebel hills-- hurling their hissing thunderbolts--and then an hundred bellowing cannon from our lines thundered their iron answer. horrible rolled in the heavens the infernal thunders--rolled from hill to hill the reverberating roar, as if the earth were bursting with the throes of some vast pent volcano; rocked and reeled, as in an earthquake-shock, the solid hills; anon huge fragments of the hillside rocks, and limbs and splinters of shot-shattered trees danced in the smoke like demons; hissed and howled the crashing shell-storm bursting over us. prone on the earth awaiting the grand charge, to which we knew the heavy cannonade was but a prelude, for two hours we lay-- two hours that tried the very souls of men-- and many a brave man never rose again. then ceased our guns to swell the infernal roar; the roll and crash of cannon in our front lulled, and we heard the foeman's bugle-calls. then from the slopes of seminary ridge poured down the storming columns of the foe. as when the rain-clouds from the rim of heaven are gathered by the four contending winds, and madly whirled until they meet and clash above the hills and burst--down pours a sea and plunges roaring down through gorge and glen, so poured the surging columns of our foes adown the slopes and spread along the vale in glittering ranks of battle--line on line-- mile-long. above the roar of cannon rose in one wild yell the rebel battle-cry. flash in the sun their serried ranks of steel; before them swarm a cloud of skirmishers. that eager host the gallant pickett leads; he right and left his fiery charger wheels; steadies the lines with clarion voice; anon his outstretched saber gleaming points the way. as mid the myriad twinkling stars of heaven flashes the blazing comet, and a column of fiery fury follows it, so flashed the dauntless chief, so followed his wild host. "we waited grim and silent till they crossed the center and began the dread ascent. then brazen bugles rang the clarion call; arose as one twice twenty thousand men, and all our hillsides blazed with crackling fire. with sudden crash and simultaneous roar an hundred cannon opened instantly, and all the vast hills shuddered under us. yelling their mad defiance to our fire still on and upward came our daring foes. as when upon the wooded mountain-side the unchained loki[d] riots and the winds of an autumnal tempest lash the flames, whirling the burning fragments through the air-- huge blazing limbs and tops of blasted pines-- mowing wide swaths with circling scythes of fire, so fell our fire upon the advancing host, and lashed their ranks and mowed them into heaps, cleaving broad avenues of death. still on and up they come undaunted, closing up the ghastly gaps and firing as they come. as if protected by the hand of heaven, rides at their head their gallant leader still; the tempest drowns his voice--his naming sword gleams in the flash of rifles. one wild yell--like the mad hunger-howl of famished wolves midwinter on the flying cabris'[e] trail, swelled by ten thousand hideous voices, shrills, and through the battle-smoke the bravest burst. flutters their tattered banner on our wall! thunders their shout of victory! appalled our serried ranks are broken--but in vain! on either hand our cannon enfilade, crushing great gaps along the stalwart lines; in front our deadly rifles volley still, mowing the toppling swaths of daring men. behold--they falter!--ho!--they break!--they fly! with one wild cheer that shakes the solid hills spring to the charge our eager infantry. headlong we press them down the bloody slope, headlong they fall before our leveled steel and break in wild disorder, cast away their arms and fly in panic. all the vale is spread with slaughter and wild fugitives. wide o'er the field the scattered foemen fly; dread havoc and mad terror swift pursue till battle is but slaughter. thousands fall-- thousands surrender, and the southern flag is trailed upon the field. [d] norse fire-fiend [e] cabri--the small, fleet antelope of the northern plains, so called by the crees and half-breeds. "the day was ours, and well we knew the worth of victory. loud rolled the rounds of cheers from corps to corps; comrades embraced each other; iron men shed tears of joy like women; men profane fell on their knees and thanked almighty god. then _'hail columbia'_ rang the brazen horns, and all the hill-tops shouted unto heaven; the welkin shouted to the shouting hills--and heavens and hill-tops shouted _'victory!'_ "night with her pall had wrapped the bloody field. the little remnants of our regiment were gathered and encamped upon the hill. paul was not with them, and they could not tell aught of him. i had seen him in the fight bravest of all the brave. i saw him last when first the foremost foemen reached our wall, thrusting them off with bloody bayonet, and shouting to his comrades, _'steady, men!'_ sadly i wandered back where we had met the onset of the foe. the rounds of cheers repeated oft still swept from corps to corps, and as i passed along the line i saw our dying comrades raise their weary heads, and cheer with feeble voices. even in death the cry of victory warmed their hearts again. paul lay upon the ground where he had fought, fast by the flag that floated on the line. he slept--or seemed to sleep, but on his brow sat such a deadly pallor that i feared my paul would never march and fight again. i raised his head--he woke as from a dream; i said, 'be quiet--you are badly hurt; i'll call a surgeon; we will dress your wound.' he gravely said: "'tis vain; for i have done with camp and march and battle. ere the dawn shall i be mustered out of your command, and mustered into the grand host of heaven.' "i sought a surgeon on the field and found; with me he came and opened the bloody blouse, felt the dull pulse and sagely shook his head. a musket ball had done its deadly work; there was no hope, he said, the man might live a day perchance--but had no need of him. i called his comrades and we carried him, stretched on his blankets, gently to our camp, and laid him by the camp-fire. as the light fell on paul's face he took my hand and said: part ii paul' s history "captain, i hear the cheers. my soul is glad. my days are numbered, but this glorious day-- like some far beacon on a shadowy cape that cheers at night the storm-belabored ships-- will light the misty ages from afar. this field shall be the mecca. here shall rise a holier than the caaba where men kiss the sacred stone that flaming fell from heaven. but o how many sad and aching hearts will mourn the loved ones never to return! thank god--no heart will hope for my return! thank god--no heart will mourn because i die! captain, at life's mid-summer flush and glow, for him to die who leaves his golden hopes, his mourning friends and idol-love behind, it must be hard and seem a cruel thing. after the victory--upon this field--for me to die hath more of peace than pain; for i shall leave no golden hopes behind, no idol-love to pine because i die, no friends to wait my coming or to mourn. they wait my coming in the world beyond; and wait not long, for i am almost there. 'tis but a gasp, and i shall pass the bound 'twixt life and death--through death to life again-- where sorrow cometh never. pangs and pains of flesh or spirit will not pierce me there; and two will greet me from the jasper walls-- god's angels--with a song of holy peace, and haste to meet me at the pearly gate, and kiss the death-damp from my silent lips, and lead me through the golden avenues-- singing hosanna--to the great white throne." so there he paused and calmly closed his eyes, and silently i sat and held his hand. after a time, when we were left alone, he spoke again with calmer voice and said: "captain, you oft have asked my history, and i as oft refused. there is no cause why i should longer hold it from my friend who reads the closing chapter. it may teach one soul to lean upon the arm of christ-- that hope and happiness find anchorage only in heaven. while my lonesome life saw death but dimly in the dull distance my lips were sealed to the unhappy tale; under my pride i hid a heavy heart. "i was ambitious in my boyhood days, and dreamed of fame and honors--misty fogs that climb at morn the ragged cliffs of life, veiling the ragged rocks and gloomy chasms, and shaping airy castles on the top with bristling battlements and looming towers; but melt away into ethereal air beneath the blaze of the mid-summer sun, till cliffs and chasms and all the ragged rocks are bare, and all the castles crumbled away. "there winds a river 'twixt two chains of hills-- fir-capped and rugged monuments of time; a level vale of rich alluvial land, washed from the slopes through circling centuries, and sweet with clover and the hum of bees, lies broad between the rugged, somber hills. beneath a shade of willows and of elms the river slumbers in this meadowy lap. down from the right there winds a babbling branch, cleaving a narrower valley through the hills. a grand bald-headed hill-cone on the right looms like a patriarch, and above the branch there towers another. i have seen the day when those bald heads were plumed with lofty pines. below the branch and near the river bank, hidden among the elms and butternuts, the dear old cottage stands where i was born. an english ivy clambers to the eaves; an english willow planted by my hand now spreads its golden branches o'er the roof not far below the cottage thrives a town, a busy town of mills and merchandise-- belle meadows, fairest village of the vale. behind it looms the hill-cone, and in front the peaceful river winds its silent way. beyond the river spreads a level plain-- once hid with somber firs--a tangled marsh-- now beautiful with fields and cottages, and sweet in spring-time with the blooming plum, and white with apple-blossoms blown like snow. beyond the plain a lower chain of hills, in summer gemmed with fields of golden grain set in the emerald of the beechen woods. in other days the village school-house stood below our cottage on a grassy mound that sloped away unto the river's marge; and on the slope a cluster of tall pines crowning a copse of beech and evergreen. there in my boyhood days i went to school; a maiden mistress ruled the little realm; she taught the rudiments to rompish rogues, and walked a queen with magic wand of birch. my years were hardly ten when father died. sole tenants of our humble cottage home my sorrowing mother and myself remained; but she was all economy, and kept with my poor aid a comfortable house. i was her idol and she wrought at night to keep me at my books, and used to boast that i should rise above our humble lot. how oft i listened to her hopeful words-- poured from the fountain of a mother's heart until i longed to wing the sluggard years that bore me on to what i hoped to be. "we had a garden-plat behind the house-- beyond, an orchard and a pasture-lot; in front a narrow meadow--here and there shaded with elms and branching butternuts. in spring and summer in the garden-plat i wrought my morning and my evening hours and kept myself at school--no idle boy. "one bright may morning when the robins sang there came to school a stranger queenly fair, with eyes that shamed the ethereal blue of heaven, and golden hair in ringlets--cheeks as soft, as fresh and rosy as the velvet blush of summer sunrise on the dew-damp hills. hers was the name i muttered in my dreams. for days my bashful heart held me aloof although her senior by a single year; but we were brought together oft in class, and when she learned my name she spoke to me, and then my tongue was loosed and we were friends. before the advent of the steeds of steel her sire--a shrewd and calculating man-- had lately come and purchased timbered-lands and idle mills, and made the town his home. and he was well-to-do and growing rich, and she her father's pet and only child. in mind and stature for two happy years we grew together at the village school. we grew together!--aye, our tender hearts there grew together till they beat as one. her tasks were mine, and mine alike were hers; we often stole away among the pines-- that stately cluster on the sloping hill-- and conned our lessons from the selfsame book, and learned to love each other o'er our tasks, while in the pine-tops piped the oriole, and from his branch the chattering squirrel chid our guileless love and artless innocence. 'twas childish love perhaps, but day by day it grew into our souls as we grew up. then there was opened in the prospering town a grammar school, and thither went pauline. i missed her and was sad for many a day, till mother gave me leave to follow her. in autumn--in vacation--she would come with girlish pretext to our cottage home. she often brought my mother little gifts, and cheered her with sweet songs and happy words; and i would pluck the fairest meadow-flowers to grace a garland for her golden hair, and fill her basket from the butternuts that flourished in our little meadow field. i found in her all i had dreamed of heaven. so garlanded with latest-blooming flowers, chanting the mellow music of our hopes, the silver-sandaled autumn-hours tripped by. and mother learned to love her; but she feared, knowing her heart and mine, that one rude hand might break our hopes asunder. like a thief i often crept about her father's house, under the evening shadows, eager-eyed, peering for one dear face, and lingered late to catch the silver music of one voice that from her chamber nightly rose to heaven. her father's face i feared--a silent man, cold-faced, imperative, by nature prone to set his will against the beating world; warm-hearted but heart-crusted. [illustration: we often stole away among the pines, and conned our lessons from the self-same book] "two years more thus wore away. pauline grew up a queen. a shadow fell across my sunny path;-- a hectic flush burned on my mother's cheeks; she daily failed and nearer drew to death. pauline would often come with sun-lit face, cheating the day of half its languid hours with cheering chapters from the holy book, and border tales and wizard minstrelsy: and mother loved her all the better for it. with feeble hands upon our sad-bowed heads, and in a voice all tremulous with tears, she said to us: 'dear children, love each other-- bear and forbear, and come to me in heaven;' and praying for us daily--drooped and died. [illustration: "'dear children? love each other,--bear and forbear, and come to me in heaven'"] "after the sad and solemn funeral, alone and weeping and disconsolate, i sat at evening by the cottage door. i felt as if a dark and bitter fate had fallen on me in my tender years. i seemed an aimless wanderer doomed to grope in vain among the darkling years and die. one only star shone through the shadowy mists. the moon that wandered in the gloomy heavens was robed in shrouds; the rugged, looming hills looked desolate;--the silent river seemed a somber chasm, while my own pet lamb, mourning disconsolate among the trees, as if he followed some dim phantom-form, bleated in vain and would not heed my call. on weary hands i bent my weary head; in gloomy sadness fell my silent tears. "an angel's hand was laid upon my head-- there in the moonlight stood my own pauline-- angel of love and hope and holy faith-- she flashed upon me bowed in bitter grief, as falls the meteor down the night-clad heavens-- in silence. then about my neck she clasped her loving arms and on my shoulder drooped her golden tresses, while her silent tears fell warm upon my cheek like summer rain. heart clasped to heart and cheek to cheek we sat; the moon no longer gloomed--her face was cheer; the rugged hills were old-time friends again; the peaceful river slept beneath the moon, and my pet lamb came bounding to our side and kissed her hand and mine as he was wont. then i awoke as from a dream and said: 'tell me, beloved, why you come to me in this dark hour--so late--so desolate?' and she replied: "'my darling, can i rest while you are full of sorrow? in my ear a spirit seemed to whisper--"arise and go to comfort him disconsolate." tell me, paul, why should you mourn your tender life away? i will be mother to you; nay, dear boy, i will be more. come, brush away these tears.' "my heart was full; i kissed her pleading eyes: 'you are an angel sent by one in heaven,' i said,'to heal my heart, but i have lost more than you know. the cruel hand of death hath left me orphan, friendless--poor indeed, saving the precious jewel of your love. and what to do? i know not what to do, i feel so broken by a heavy hand. my mother hoped that i would work my way to competence and honor at the bar. but shall i toil in poverty for years to learn a science that so seldom yields or wealth or honor save to silvered heads? i know that path to fame and fortune leads through thorns and brambles over ragged rocks; but can i follow in the common path trod by the millions, never to lift my head above the busy hordes that delve and drudge for bare existence in this bitter world-- and be a mite, a midge, a worthless worm, no more distinguished from the common mass than one poor polyp in the coral isle is marked amid the myriads teeming there? yet 'tis not for myself. for you, pauline, far up the slippery heights of wealth and fame would i climb bravely; but if i would climb by any art or science, i must train unto the task my feet for many years, else i should slip and fall from rugged ways, too badly bruised to ever mount again.' then she: "'o paul, if wealth were mine to give! o if my father could but know my heart! but fear not, paul, our _father_ reigns in heaven. follow your bent--'twill lead you out aright; the highest mountain lessens as we climb; persistent courage wins the smile of fate. apply yourself to law and master it, and i will wait. this sad and solemn hour is dark with doubt and gloom, but by and by the clouds will lift and you will see god's face. for there is one in heaven whose pleading tongue will pray for blessings on her only son of him who heeds the little sparrow's fall;-- and o if he will listen to my prayers, the gates of heaven shall echo to my voice morning and evening,--only keep your heart.' i said: "'pauline, your prayers had rolled away the ponderous stone that closed the tomb of christ; and while they rise to heaven for my success i cannot doubt, or i should doubt my god. i think i see a pathway through this gloom; i have a kinsman'--and i told her where-- 'a lawyer; i have heard my mother say-- a self-made man with charitable heart; and i might go and study under him; i think he would assist me.' "then she sighed: 'paul, can you leave me? you may study here and here you are among your boyhood friends, and here i should be near to cheer you on.' "i promised her that i would think of it-- would see what prospect offered in the town; and then we walked together half-embraced, but when we neared her vine-arched garden gate, she bade me stay and kissed me a good-night and bounded through the moonlight like a fawn. i watched her till she flitted from my sight, then slowly homeward turned my lingering steps. i wrote my kinsman on the morrow morn, and broached my project to a worthy man who kept an office and a case of books-- an honest lawyer. people called him learn'd, but wanting tact and ready speech he failed. the rest were pettifoggers--scurrilous rogues who plied the village justice with their lies, and garbled law to suit the case in hand-- mean, querulous, small-brained delvers in the mire of men's misfortunes--crafty, cunning knaves, versed in chicane and trickery that schemed to keep the evil passions of weak men in petty wars, and plied their tongues profane with cunning words to argue honest fools into their spider-meshes to be fleeced. i laid my case before him; took advice-- well-meant advice--to leave my native town, and study with my kinsman whom he knew. a week rolled round and brought me a reply-- a frank and kindly letter--giving me that which i needed most--encouragement. but hard it was to fix my mind to go; for in my heart an angel whispered 'stay.' it might be better for my after years, and yet perhaps,'twere better to remain. i balanced betwixt my reason and my heart, and hesitated. her i had not seen since that sad night, and so i made resolve that we should meet, and at her father's house. so whispering courage to my timid heart i went. with happy greeting at the door she met me, but her face was wan and pale-- so pale and wan i feared that she was ill. i read the letter to her, and she sighed, and sat in silence for a little time, then said: "'god bless you, paul, may be 'tis best-- i sometimes feel it is not for the best, but i am selfish--thinking of myself. go like a man, but keep your boyish heart-- your boyish heart is all the world to me. remember, paul, how i shall watch and wait; so write me often: like the dew of heaven to withering grass will come your cheering words. to know that you are well and happy, paul, and good and true, will wing the weary months. and let me beg you as a sister would-- not that i doubt you but because i love-- beware of wine--touch not the treacherous cup, and guard your honor as you guard your life. the years will glide away like scudding clouds that fleetly chase each other o'er the hills, and you will be a man before you know, and i will be a woman. god will crown our dearest hopes if we but trust in him.' "we sat in silence for a little time, and she was weeping, so i raised her face and kissed away her tears. she softly said: 'paul, there is something i must say to you-- something i have no time to tell you now; but we must meet again before you go-- under the pines where we so oft have met. be this the sign,'--she waved her graceful hand, 'come when the shadows gather on the pines, and silent stars stand sentinel in heaven; now paul, forgive me--i must say--good-bye.' "i read her fear upon her anxious brow. lingering and clasped within her loving arms i, through her dewy, deep, blue eyes, beheld her inmost soul, and knew that love was there. ah, then and there her father blustered in, and caught us blushing in each other's arms! he stood a moment silent and amazed: then kindling wrath distorted all his face, he showered his anger with a tongue of fire. o cruel words that stung my boyish pride! o dagger words that stabbed my very soul! i strove, but fury mastered--up i sprang, and felt a giant as i stood before him. my breath was hot with anger;--impious boy-- frenzied--forgetful of his silvered hairs-- forgetful of her presence, too, i raved, and poured a madman's curses on his head. a moan of anguish brought me to myself; i turned and saw her sad, imploring face, and tears that quenched the wild fire in my heart. i pressed her hand and passed into the hall, while she stood sobbing in a flood of tears, and he stood choked with anger and amazed. but as i passed the ivied porch he came with bated breath and muttered in my ear-- '_beggar!_'--it stung me like a serpent's fang. pride-pricked and muttering like a maniac, i almost flew the street and hurried home to vent my anger to the silent elms. _'beggar!_'--an hundred times that long, mad night i muttered with hot lips and burning breath; i paced the walk with hurried tread, and raved; i threw myself beneath the willow-tree, and muttered like the muttering of a storm. my little lamb came bleating mournfully; angered i struck him;--out among the trees i wandered mumbling 'beggar' as i went, and beating in through all my burning soul the bitter thoughts it conjured, till my brain reeled and i sunk upon the dew-damp grass, and--utterly exhausted--slept till morn. "i dreamed a dream--all mist and mystery. i saw a sunlit valley beautiful with purple vineyards and with garden-plats; and in the vineyards and the garden-plats were happy-hearted youths and merry girls toiling and singing. grandsires too were there, sitting contented under their own vines and fig-trees, while about them merrily played their children's children like the sportive lambs that frolicked on the foot-hills. low of kine, full-uddered, homeward-wending from the meads, fell on the ear as soft as hulder's loor tuned on the norse-land mountains. like a nest hid in a hawthorn-hedge a cottage stood embowered with vines beneath broad-branching elms sweet-voiced with busy bees. [illustration: paul's dream] "on either hand rose steep and barren mountains--mighty cliffs cragged and chasm'd and over-grown with thorns; and on the topmost peak a golden throne blazoned with burning characters that read-- 'climb'--it is yours.' not far above the vale i saw a youth, fair-browed and raven-haired, clambering among the thorns and ragged rocks; and from his brow with torn and bleeding hand he wiped great drops of sweat. down through the vale i saw a rapid river, broad and deep, winding in solemn silence to the sea-- the sea all mist and fog. lo as i stood viewing the river and the moaning sea, a sail--and then another--flitted down and plunged into the mist. a moment more, like shapeless shadows of the by-gone years, i saw them in the mist and they were gone-- gone!--and the sea moaned on and seemed to say-- _'gone--and forever!_'--so i gladly turned to look upon the throne--the blazoned throne that sat upon the everlasting cliff. the throne had vanished!--lo where it had stood, a bed of ashes and a gray-haired man sitting upon it bowed and broken down. and so the vision passed. "the rising sun beamed full upon my face and wakened me, and there beside me lay my pet--the lamb-- gazing upon me with his wondering eyes, and all the fields were bright and beautiful, and brighter seemed the world. i rose resolved. i let the cottage and disposed of all; the lamb went bleating to a neighbor's field; and oft my heart ached, but i mastered it. this was the constant burden of my brain-- _'beggar!_'--i'll teach him that i am a man; i'll speak and he shall listen; i will rise, and he shall see my course as i go up round after round the ladder of success. even as the pine upon the mountain-top towers o'er the maple on the mountain-side, i'll tower above him. then will i look down and call him _father_:--he shall call me _son_.' "thus hushing my sad heart the day drew nigh of parting, and the promised sign was given. the night was dismal darkness--not one star twinkled in heaven; the sad, low-moaning wind played like a mournful harp among the pines. i groped and listened through the darkling grove, peering with eager eyes among the trees, and calling as i peered with anxious voice one darling name. no answer but the moan of the wind-shaken pines. i sat me down under the dusky shadows waiting for her, and lost myself in gloomy reverie. dim in the darksome shadows of the night, while thus i dreamed, my darling came and crept beneath the boughs as softly as a hare, and whispered 'paul'--and i was at her side. we sat upon a mound moss-carpeted-- no eyes but god's upon us, and no voice spake to us save the moaning of the pines. few were the words we spoke; her silent tears, our clasping, trembling, lingering embrace, were more than words. into one solemn hour, were pressed the fears and hopes of coming years. two tender hearts that only dared to hope there swelled and throbbed to the electric touch of love as holy as the love of christ. she gave her picture and i gave a ring-- my mother's--almost with her latest breath she gave it me and breathed my darling's name. i girt her finger, and she kissed the ring in solemn pledge, and said: "'i bring a gift-- the priceless gift of god unto his own: o may it prove a precious gift to you, as it has proved a precious gift to me; and promise me to read it day by day-- beginning on the morrow--every day a chapter--and i too will read the same.' "i took the gift--a precious gift indeed-- and you may see how i have treasured it. here, captain, put your hand upon my breast-- an inner pocket--you will find it there." i opened the bloody blouse and thence drew forth the book of christ all stained with christian blood. he laid his hand upon the holy book, and closed his eyes as if in silent prayer. i held his weary head and bade him rest. he lay a moment silent and resumed: "let me go on if you would hear the tale; i soon shall sleep the sleep that wakes no more. o there were promises and vows as solemn as christ's own promises; but as we sat the pattering rain-drops fell among the pines, and in the branches the foreboding owl with dismal hooting hailed the coming storm. so in that dreary hour and desolate we parted in the silence of our tears. "and on the morrow morn i bade adieu to the old cottage home i loved so well-- the dear old cottage home where i was born. then from my mother's grave i plucked a rose bursting in bloom--pauline had planted it-- and left my little hill-girt boyhood world. i journeyed eastward to my journey's end; at first by rail for many a flying mile, by mail-coach thence from where the hurrying train leaps a swift river that goes tumbling on between a village and a mountain-ledge, chafing its rocky banks. there seethes and foams the restless river round the roaring rocks, and then flows on a little way and pours its laughing waters into a bridal lap. its flood is fountain-fed among the hills; far up the mossy brooks the timid trout lie in the shadow of vine-tangled elms. out from the village-green the roadway leads along the river up between the hills, then climbs a wooded mountain to its top, and gently winds adown the farther side unto a valley where the bridal stream flows rippling, meadow-flower-and-willow-fringed, and dancing onward with a merry song, hastes to the nuptials. from the mountain-top-- a thousand feet above the meadowy vale-- she seems a chain of fretted silver wound with artless art among the emerald hills. thence up a winding valley of grand views-- hill-guarded--firs and rocks upon the hills, and here and there a solitary pine majestic--silent--mourns its slaughtered kin, like the last warrior of some tawny tribe returned from sunset mountains to behold once more the spot where his brave fathers sleep. the farms along the valley stretch away on either hand upon the rugged hills-- walled into fields. tall elms and willow-trees huge-trunked and ivy-hung stand sentinel along the roadway walls--storm-wrinkled trees planted by men who slumber on the hills. amid such scenes all day we rolled along, and as the shadows of the western hills across the valley crept and climbed the slopes, the sunset blazed their hazy tops and fell upon the emerald like a mist of gold. and at that hour i reached my journey's end. the village is a gem among the hills-- tall, towering hills that reach into the blue. one grand old mountain-cone looms on the left far up toward heaven, and all around are hills. the river winds among the leafy hills adown the meadowy dale; a shade of elms and willows fringe it. in this lap of hills cluster the happy homes of men content to let the great world worry as it will. the court-house park, the broad, bloom-bordered streets, are avenues of maples and of elms-- grander than tadmor's pillared avenue-- fair as the fabled garden of the gods. beautiful villas, tidy cottages, flower gardens, fountains, offices and shops, all nestle in a dreamy wealth of woods. "kind hearts received me. all that wealth could bring-- refinement, luxury and ease--was theirs; but i was proud and felt my poverty, and gladly mured myself among the books to master 'the lawless science of the law.' i plodded through the ponderous commentaries-- some musty with the mildew of old age; and these i found the better for their years, like olden wine in cobweb-covered flasks. the blush of sunrise found me at my books; the midnight cock-crow caught me reading still; and oft my worthy master censured me: 'a time for work,' he said, 'a time for play; unbend the bow or else the bow will break.' but when i wearied--needing sleep and rest-- a single word seemed whispered in my ear-- '_beggar_,' it stung me to redoubled toil. i trod the ofttimes mazy labyrinths of legal logic--mined the mountain-mass of precedents conflicting--found the rule, then branched into the exceptions; split the hair betwixt this case and that--ran parallels-- traced from a 'leading case' through many tomes back to the first decision on the 'point,' and often found a pyramid of law built with bad logic on a broken base of careless '_dicta;_'--saw how narrow minds spun out the web of technicalities till common sense and common equity were strangled in its meshes. here and there i came upon a broad, unfettered mind like murray's--cleaving through the spider-webs of shallower brains, and bravely pushing out upon the open sea of common sense. but such were rare. the olden precedents-- oft stepping-stones of tyranny and wrong-- marked easy paths to follow, and they ruled the course of reason as the iron rails rule the swift wheels of the down-thundering train. "i rose at dawn. first in this holy book i read my chapter. how the happy thought that my pauline would read--the self-same morn the self-same chapter--gave the sacred text, though i had heard my mother read it oft, new light and import never seen before. for i would ponder over every verse, because i felt that she was reading it, and when i came upon dear promises of christ to man, i read them o'er and o'er, till in a holy and mysterious way they seemed the whisperings of pauline to me. later i learned to lay up for myself 'treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust corrupteth, and where thieves do not break through, nor steal'--and where my treasures all are laid my heart is, and my spirit longs to go. o friend, if jesus was but man of man-- and if indeed his wondrous miracles were mythic tales of priestly followers to chain the brute till reason came from heaven-- yet was his mission unto man divine. man's pity wounds, but jesus' pity heals: he gave us balm beyond all earthly balm; he gave us strength beyond all human strength; he taught us love above the low desires; he taught us hope beyond all earthly hope; he taught us charity wherewith to build from out the broken walls of barbarism, the holy temple of the perfect man. "on every sabbath-eve i wrote pauline. page after page was burdened with my love, my glowing hopes of golden days to come, and frequent boast of rapid progress made. with hungry heart and eager i devoured her letters; i re-read them twenty times. at morning when i laid the gospel down i read her latest answer, and again at midnight by my lamp i read it over, and murmuring 'god bless her,' fell asleep to dream that i was with her under the pines. "thus fled four years--four years of patient toil sweetened with love and hope, and i had made swift progress in my studies. master said another year would bring me to the bar-- no fledgeling but full-feathered for the field. and then her letters ceased. i wrote and wrote again, but still no answer. day after day the tardy mail-coach lagged a mortal hour, while i sat listening for its welcome horn; and when it came i hastened from my books with hope and fear contending in my soul. day after day--no answer--back again i turned my footsteps with a weary sigh. it wore upon me and i could not rest; it gnawed me to the marrow of my bones. the heavy tomes grew dull and wearisome, and sometimes hateful;--then i broke away as from a prison and rushed wildly out among the elms along the river-bank-- baring my burning temples to the breeze-- and drank the air of heaven like sparkling wine-- conjuring excuses for her;--was she ill? perhaps forbidden. had another heart come in between us?--no, that could not be; she was all constancy and promise-bound. a month, which seemed to me a laggard year, thus wore away. at last a letter came. o with what springing step i hurried back-- back to my private chamber and my desk! with what delight--what eager, trembling hand-- the well-known seal that held my hopes i broke! thus ran the letter: "'paul, the time has come when we must both forgive while we forget. mine was a girlish fancy. we outgrow such childish follies in our later years. now i have pondered well and made an end. i cannot wed myself to want, and curse my life life-long, because a girlish freak of folly made a promise. so--farewell.' "my eyes were blind with passion as i read. i tore the letter into bits and stamped upon them, ground my teeth and cursed the day i met her, to be jilted. all that night my thoughts ran riot. round the room i strode a raving madman--savage as a sioux; then flung myself upon my couch in tears, and wept in silence, and then stormed again. '_beggar!_'--it raised the serpent in my breast-- mad pride--bat-blind. i seized her pictured face and ground it under my heel. with impious hand i caught the book--the precious gift she gave, and would have burned it, but that still small voice spake in my heart and bade me spare the book. "then with this gospel clutched in both my hands, i swore a solemn oath that i would rise, if god would spare me;--she should see me rise, and learn what she had lost.--yes, i would mount merely to be revenged. i would not cringe down like a spaniel underneath the lash, but like a man would teach my proud pauline and her hard father to repent the day they called me '_beggar_.' thus i raved and stormed that mad night out;--forgot at dawn of morn this holy book, but fell to a huge tome and read two hundred pages in a day. i could not keep the thread of argument; i could not hold my mind upon the book; i could not break the silent under-tow that swept all else from out my throbbing brain but false pauline. i read from morn till night, but having closed the book i could not tell aught of its contents. then i cursed myself, and muttered--'fool--can you not shake it off-- this nightmare of your boyhood?--brave, indeed-- crushed like a spaniel by this false pauline! crushed am i?--by the gods, i'll make an end, and she shall never know it nettled me!' so passed the weary days. my cheeks grew thin; i needed rest, i said, and quit my books to range the fields and hills with fowling-piece and '_mal prepense_' toward the feathery flocks. the pigeons flew from tree-tops o'er my head; i heard the flap of wings--and they were gone; the pheasant whizzed from bushes at my feet unseen until its sudden whir of wings startled and broke my wandering reverie; and then i whistled and relapsed to dreams, wandering i cared not whither--wheresoe'er my silent gun still bore its primal charge. so gameless, but with cheeks and forehead tinged by breeze and sunshine, i returned to books. but still a phantom haunted all my dreams-- awake or sleeping, for awake i dreamed-- a spectre that i could not chase away-- the phantom-form of my own false pauline. "six months wore off--six long and weary months; then came a letter from a school-boy friend-- in answer to the queries i had made-- filled with the gossip of my native town. unto her father's friend--a bachelor, her senior by full twenty years at least-- dame rumor said pauline had pledged her hand. i knew him well--a sly and cunning man-- a honey-tongued, false-hearted flatterer. and he my rival--carrying off my prize? but what cared i? 'twas all the same to me-- yea, better for the sweet revenge to come. so whispered pride, but in my secret heart i cared, and hoped whatever came to pass she might be happy all her days on earth, and find a happy haven at the end. "my thoughtful master bade me quit my books a month at least, for i was wearing out. 'unbend the bow,' he said. his watchful eye saw toil and care at work upon my cheeks; he could not see the canker at my heart, but he had seen pale students wear away with overwork the vigor of their lives; and so he gave me means and bade me go to romp a month among my native hills. i went, but not as i had left my home-- a bashful boy, uncouth and coarsely clad, but clothed and mannered like a gentleman. "my school-boy friend gave me a cordial greeting; that honest lawyer bade me welcome, too, and doted on my progress and the advice he gave me ere i left my native town. since first the iron-horse had coursed the vale five years had fled--five prosperous, magic years, and well nigh five since i had left my home. these prosperous years had wrought upon the place their wonders till i hardly knew the town. the broad and stately blocks of brick that shamed the weather-beaten wooden shops i knew seemed the creation of some magic hand. adown the river bank the town had stretched, sweeping away the quiet grove of pines where i had loved to ramble when a boy and see the squirrels leap from tree to tree with reckless venture, hazarding a fall to dodge the ill-aimed arrows from my bow. the dear old school-house on the hill was gone: a costly church, tall-spired and built of stone stood in its stead--a monument to man. unholy greed had felled the stately pines, and all the slope was bare and desolate. old faces had grown older; some were gone, and many unfamiliar ones had come. boys in their teens had grown to bearded men, and girls to womanhood, and all was changed, save the old cottage-home where i was born. the elms and butternuts in the meadow-field still wore the features of familiar friends; the english ivy clambered to the roof, the english willow spread its branches still, and as i stood before the cottage-door my heart-pulse quickened, for methought i heard my mother's footsteps on the ashen floor. "the rumor i had heard was verified; the wedding-day was named and near at hand. i met my rival: gracious were his smiles: glad as a boy that robs the robin's nest he grasped the hands of half the men he met. pauline, i heard, but seldom ventured forth, save when her doting father took her out on sabbath morns to breathe the balmy air, and grace with her sweet face his cushioned pew. the smooth-faced suitor, old dame gossip said, made daily visits to her father's house, and played the boy at forty years or more, while she had held him off to draw him on. [illustration] "i would not fawn upon the hand that smote; i would not cringe beneath its cruel blow, nor even let her know i cared for it. i kept aloof--as proud as lucifer. but when the church-bells chimed on sabbath morn to that proud monument of stone i went-- her father's pride, since he had led the list of wealthy patrons who had builded it-- to hear the sermon--for methought pauline would hear it too. might i not see her face, and she not know i cared to look upon it? she came not, and the psalms and sermon fell upon me like an autumn-mist of rain. i met her once by chance upon the street-- the day before the appointed wedding-day-- her and her father--she upon his arm. 'paul--o paul!' she said and gave her hand. i took it with a cold and careless air-- begged pardon--had forgotten;--'ah--pauline?-- yes, i remembered;--five long years ago-- and i had made so many later friends, and she had lost so much of maiden bloom!' then turning met her father face to face, bowed with cold grace and haughtily passed on. 'this is revenge,' i muttered. even then my heart ached as i thought of her pale face, her pleading eyes, her trembling, clasping hand! and then and there i would have turned about to beg her pardon and an interview, but pride--that serpent ever in my heart-- hissed '_beggar_,' and i cursed her with the lips that oft had poured my love into her ears. 'she marries gold to-morrow--let her wed! she will not wed a beggar, but i think she'll wed a life-long sorrow--let her wed! aye--aye--i hope she'll live to curse the day whereon she broke her sacred promises. and i forgive her?--yea, but not forget. i'll take good care that she shall not forget; i'll prick her memory with a bitter thorn through all her future. let her marry gold!' thus ran my muttered words, but in my heart there ran a counter-current; ere i slept its silent under-tow had mastered all-- 'forgive and be forgiven.' i resolved that on the morning of her wedding-day would i go kindly and forgive pauline, and send her to the altar with my blessing. that night i read a chapter in this book-- the first for many months, and fell asleep beseeching god to bless her. then i dreamed that we were kneeling at my mother's bed-- her death-bed, and the feeble, trembling hands of her who loved us rested on our heads, and in a voice all tremulous with tears my mother said: 'dear children, love each other; bear and forbear, and come to me in heaven.' "i wakened once--at midnight--a wild cry-- '_paul, o paul!_' rang through my dreams and broke my slumber. i arose, but all was still, and then i, slept again and dreamed till morn. in all my dreams her dear, sweet face appeared-- now radiant as a star, and now all pale-- now glad with smiles and now all wet with tears. then came a dream that agonized my soul, while every limb was bound as if in chains. methought i saw her in the silent night leaning o'er misty waters dark and deep: a moan--a plash of waters--and, o christ!-- her agonized face upturned--imploring hands stretched out toward me, and a wailing cry-- '_paul, o paul!_' then face and hands went down, and o'er her closed the deep and dismal flood forever--but it could not drown the cry: '_paul, o paul!_' was ringing in my ears; '_paul, o paul!_' was throbbing in my heart; and moaning, sobbing in my shuddering soul trembled the wail of anguish--'_paul, o paul!_' "then o'er the waters stole the silver dawn, and lo a fairy boat with silken sail! and in the boat an angel at the helm, and at her feet the form of her i loved. the white mists parted as the boat sped on in silence, lessening far and far away. and then the sunrise glimmered on the sail a moment, and the angel turned her face: my mother!--and i gave a joyful cry, and stretched my hands, but lo the hovering mists closed in around them and the vision passed. "the morning sun stole through the window-blinds and fell upon my face and wakened me, and i lay musing--thinking of pauline. yes, she should know the depths of all my heart-- the love i bore her all those lonely years; the hope that held me steadfast to my toil, and feel the higher and the holier love her precious gift had wakened in my soul. yea, i would bless her for that precious gift-- i had not known its treasures but for her, and o for that would i forgive her all, and bless the hand that smote me to the soul. that would be comfort to me all my days, and if there came a bitter time to her, 'twould pain her less to know that i forgave. "a hasty rapping at my chamber-door; in came my school-boy friend whose guest i was, and said: 'come, paul, the town is all ablaze! a sad--a strange--a marvelous suicide! pauline, who was to be a bride to-day, was missed at dawn and after sunrise found-- traced by her robe and bonnet on the bridge, whence she had thrown herself and made an end--' "and he went on, but i could hear no more; it fell upon me like a flash from heaven. as one with sudden terror dumb, i turned and in my pillow buried up my face. tears came at last, and then my friend passed out in silence. o the agony of that hour! o doubts and fears and half-read mysteries that tore my heart and tortured all my soul! "i arose. about the town the wildest tales and rumors ran; dame gossip was agog. some said she had been ill and lost her mind, some whispered hints, and others shook their heads but none could fathom the marvelous mystery. bearing a bitter anguish in my heart, half-crazed with dread and doubt and boding fears, hour after hour alone, disconsolate, among the scenes where we had wandered oft i wandered, sat where once the stately pines domed the fair temple where we learned to love. o spot of sacred memories--how changed! yet chiefly wanting one dear, blushing face that, in those happy days, made every place wherever we might wander--hill or dale-- garden of love and peace and happiness. so heavy-hearted i returned. my friend had brought for me a letter with his mail. i knew the hand upon the envelope-- with throbbing heart i hastened to my room; with trembling hands i broke the seal and read. one sheet inclosed another--one was writ at midnight by my loved and lost pauline. inclosed within, a letter false and forged, signed with my name--such perfect counterfeit, at sight i would have sworn it was my own. and thus her letter ran: "'beloved paul, may god forgive you as my heart forgives. even as a vine that winds about an oak, rot-struck and hollow-hearted, for support, clasping the sapless branches as it climbs with tender tendrils and undoubting faith, i leaned upon your troth; nay, all my hopes-- my love, my life, my very hope of heaven-- i staked upon your solemn promises. i learned to love you better than my god; my god hath sent me bitter punishment. o broken pledges! what have i to live and suffer for? half mad in my distress, yielding at last to father's oft request, i pledged my hand to one whose very love would be a curse upon me all my days. to-morrow is the promised wedding day; to morrow!--but to-morrow shall not come! come gladlier, death, and make an end of all! how many weary days and patiently i waited for a letter, and at last it came--a message crueler than death. o take it back!--and if you have a heart yet warm to pity her you swore to love, read it--and think of those dear promises-- o sacred as the savior's promises-- you whispered in my ear that solemn night beneath the pines, and kissed away my tears. and know that i forgive, belovèd paul: meet me in heaven. god will not frown upon the sin that saves me from a greater sin, and sends my soul to him. farewell--farewell.'" here he broke down. unto his pallid lips i held a flask of wine. he sipped the wine and closed his eyes in silence for a time, resuming thus: "you see the wicked plot. we both were victims of a crafty scheme to break our hearts asunder. forgery had done its work and pride had aided it. the spurious letter was a cruel one-- casting her off with utter heartlessness, and boasting of a later, dearer love, and begging her to burn the _billets-doux_ a moon-struck boy had sent her ere he found that pretty girls were plenty in the world. "think you my soul was roiled with anger?--no;-- god's hand was on my head. a keen remorse gnawed at my heart. o false and fatal pride that blinded me, else i had seen the plot ere all was lost--else i had saved a life to me most precious of all lives on earth-- yea, dearer then than any soul in heaven! false pride--the ruin of unnumbered souls-- thou art the serpent ever tempting me; god, chastening me, has bruised thy serpent head. o faithful heart in silence suffering-- true unto death to one she could but count a perjured villain, cheated as she was! captain, i prayed--'twas all that i could do. god heard my prayer, and with a solemn heart, bearing the letters in my hand, i went to ask a favor of the man who crushed and cursed my life--to look upon her face-- only to look on her dear face once more. "i rung the bell--a servant bade me in. i waited long. at last the father came-- all pale and suffering. i could see remorse was gnawing at his heart; as i arose he trembled like a culprit on the drop. 'o, sir,' he said, 'whatever be your quest, i pray you leave me with my dead to-day; i cannot look on any living face till her dead face is gone forevermore.' "'and who hath done this cruel thing?' i said. 'explain,' he faltered. 'pray _you_, sir, explain!' i said, and thrust the letters in his hand. and as he sat in silence reading hers, i saw the pangs of conscience on his face; i saw him tremble like a stricken soul; and then a tear-drop fell upon his hand; and there we sat in silence. then he groaned and fell upon his knees and hid his face, and stretched his hand toward me wailing out-- 'i cannot bear this burden on my soul; o paul!--o god!--forgive me or i die.' "his anguish touched my heart. i took his hand, and kneeling by him prayed a solemn prayer-- 'father, forgive him, for he knew not what he did who broke the bond that bound us twain. o may her spirit whisper in his ear forever--god is love and all is well. "the iron man--all bowed and broken down-- sobbed like a child. he laid his trembling hand with many a fervent blessing on my head, and, with the crust all crumbled from his heart, arose and led me to her silent couch; and i looked in upon my darling dead. mine--o mine in heaven forevermore! god's angel sweetly smiling in her sleep; how beautiful--how radiant of heaven! the ring i gave begirt her finger still; her golden hair was wreathed with immortelles; the lips half-parted seemed to move in psalm or holy blessing. as i kissed her brow, it seemed as if her dead cheeks flushed again as in those happy days beneath the pines; and as my warm tears fell upon her face, methought i heard that dear familiar voice so full of love and faith and calmest peace, so near and yet so far and far away, so mortal, yet so spiritual--like an air of softest music on the slumbering bay wafted on midnight wings to silent shores, when myriad stars are twinkling in the sea: [illustration: 'and i looked in upon my darling dead.'] "'_paul, o paul, forgive and be forgiven; earth is all trial;--there is peace in heaven_.' "aye, captain, in that sad and solemn hour i laid my hand upon the arm of christ, and he hath led me all the weary way to this last battle. i shall win through him; and ere you hear the _reveille_ again paul and pauline, amid the psalms of heaven, embraced will kneel and at the feet of god receive his benediction. let me sleep. you know the rest;--i'm weary and must sleep. an angel's bugle-blast will waken me, but not to pain, for there is peace in heaven." he slept, but not the silent sleep of death. i felt his fitful pulse and caught anon the softly-whispered words "_pauline_," and "_peace_." anon he clutched with eager, nervous hand, and in hoarse whisper shouted--"_steady, men_!" then sunk again. thus passed an hour or more and he woke, half-raised himself and said with feeble voice and eyes strange luster-lit: "captain, my boat is swiftly sailing out into the misty and eternal sea from out whose waste no mortal craft returns. the fog is closing round me and the mist is damp and cold upon my hands and face. why should i fear?--the loved have gone before: i seem to hear the plash of coming oars; the mists are lifting and the boat is near. 'tis well. to die as i am dying now-- a soldier's death amid the gladsome shouts of victory for which my puny hands did their full share, albeit it was small, was all my late ambition. bring the flag, and hold it over my head. let me die thus under the stars i've followed. dear old flag--" but here his words became inaudible, as in the mazes of the mammoth cave, fainter and fainter on the listening ear, the low, retreating voices die away. his eyes were closed; a gentle smile of peace sat on his face. i held his nerveless hand, and bent my ear to catch his latest breath; and as the spirit fled the pulseless clay, i heard--or thought i heard--his wonder-words-- "_pauline,--how beautiful!_" as i arose the gray dawn paled the shadows in the east. the sea-gull.[ ] the legend of the pictured rocks of lake superior. ojibway _in the measure of hiawatha._ [the numerals refer to notes to the sea-gull, in appendix.] on the shore of gitchee gumee[ ]-- deep, mysterious, mighty waters-- where the mânitoes--the spirits-- ride the storms and speak in thunder, in the days of némè-shómis,[ ] in the days that are forgotten, dwelt a tall and tawny hunter-- gitchee péz-ze-u the panther, son of waub-ojeeg,[ ] the warrior, famous waub-ojeeg, the warrior. strong was he and fleet as roebuck, brave was he and very stealthy; on the deer crept like a panther; grappled with makwâ,[ ] the monster, grappled with the bear and conquered; took his black claws for a necklet, took his black hide for a blanket. when the panther wed the sea-gull, young was he and very gladsome; fair was she and full of laughter; like the robin in the spring-time, sang from sunrise till the sunset; for she loved the handsome hunter. deep as gitchee gumee's waters was her love--as broad and boundless; and the wedded twain were happy-- happy as the mated robins. when their first-born saw the sunlight joyful was the heart of panther, proud and joyful was the mother. all the days were full of sunshine, all the nights were full of starlight. nightly from the land of spirits on them smiled the starry faces-- faces of their friends departed. little moccasins she made him, feathered cap and belt of wampum; from the hide of fawn a blanket, fringed with feathers, soft as sable; singing at her pleasant labor, by her side the tekenâgun, [ ] and the little hunter in it, oft the panther smiled and fondled, smiled upon the babe and mother, frolicked with the boy and fondled, tall he grew and like his father, and they called the boy the raven-- called him kâk-kâh-gè--the raven. happy hunter was the panther. from the woods he brought the pheasant, brought the red deer and the rabbit, brought the trout from gitchee gumee-- brought the mallard from the marshes-- royal feast for boy and mother: brought the hides of fox and beaver, brought the skins of mink and otter, lured the loon and took his blanket, took his blanket for the raven. winter swiftly followed winter, and again the tekenâgun held a babe--a tawny daughter, held a dark-eyed, dimpled daughter; and they called her waub-omeé-meé thus they named her--the white-pigeon. but as winter followed winter cold and sullen grew the panther; sat and smoked his pipe in silence; when he spoke he spoke in anger; in the forest often tarried many days, and homeward turning, brought no game unto his wigwam; only brought his empty quiver, brought his dark and sullen visage. sad at heart and very lonely sat the sea-gull in the wigwam; sat and swung the tekenâgun sat and sang to waub-omeé-meé: thus she sang to waub-omeé-meé, thus the lullaby she chanted: wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà; kah-wéen, nee-zhéka kè-diaus-âi, ke-gáh nau-wâi, ne-mé-go s'wéen, ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is âis, wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà; ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is-âis, e-we wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà, e-we wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà. translation swing, swing, little one, lullaby; thou'rt not left alone to weep; mother cares for you--she is nigh; sleep, my little one, sweetly sleep; swing, swing, little one, lullaby; mother watches you--she is nigh; gently, gently, wee one, swing; gently, gently, while i sing e-we wâ-wa--lullaby, e-we wâ-wa--lullaby. homeward to his lodge returning kindly greeting found the hunter, fire to warm and food to nourish, golden trout from gitchee gumee, caught by kâh-kâh-gè--the raven. with a snare he caught the rabbit-- caught wabóse,[ ] the furry-footed, caught penây,[ ] the forest-drummer; sometimes with his bow and arrows, shot the red deer in the forest, shot the squirrel in the pine-top, shot ne-kâ, the wild-goose, flying. proud as waub-ojeeg, the warrior, to the lodge he bore his trophies. so when homeward turned the panther, ever found he food provided, found the lodge-fire brightly burning, found the faithful sea-gull waiting. "you are cold," she said, "and famished; here are fire and food, my husband." not by word or look he answered; only ate the food provided, filled his pipe and pensive puffed it, sat and smoked in sullen silence. once--her dark eyes full of hunger-- thus she spoke and thus besought him: "tell me, o my silent panther, tell me, o beloved husband, what has made you sad and sullen? have you met some evil spirit-- met some goblin in the forest? has he put a spell upon you-- filled your heart with bitter waters, that you sit so sad and sullen, sit and smoke, but never answer, only when the storm is on you?" gruffly then the panther answered: "brave among the brave is panther son of waub-ojeeg, the warrior, and the brave are ever silent; but a whining dog is woman, whining ever like a coward." forth into the tangled forest, threading through the thorny thickets, treading trails on marsh and meadow, sullen strode the moody hunter. saw he not the bear or beaver, saw he not the elk or roebuck; from his path the red fawn scampered, but no arrow followed after; from his den the sly wolf listened, but no twang of bow-string heard he. like one walking in his slumber, listless, dreaming, walked the panther; surely had some witch bewitched him, some bad spirit of the forest. when the sea-gull wed the panther, fair was she and full of laughter; like the robin in the spring-time, sang from sunrise till the sunset; but the storms of many winters sifted frost upon her tresses, seamed her tawny face with wrinkles. not alone the storms of winters seamed her tawny face with wrinkles. twenty winters for the panther had she ruled the humble wigwam; for her haughty lord and master borne the burdens on the journey, gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, tanned the skins of bear and beaver, tanned the hides of moose and red-deer; made him moccasins and leggins, decked his hood with quills and feathers-- colored quills of kaug,[ ] the thorny, feathers from kenéw,[ ] the eagle. for a warrior brave was panther; often had he met the foemen, met the bold and fierce dakotas, westward on the war-path met them; and the scalps he won were numbered, numbered seven by kenéw-feathers. sad at heart was sea-gull waiting, watching, waiting in the wigwam; not alone the storms of winters sifted frost upon her tresses. ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty,[ ] he that sends the cruel winter, he that turned to stone the giant, from the distant thunder-mountain, far across broad gitchee gumee, sent his warning of the winter, sent the white frost and kewâydin,[ ] sent the swift and hungry north-wind. homeward to the south the summer turned and fled the naked forests. with the summer flew the robin, flew the bobolink and blue-bird. flock-wise following chosen leaders, like the shaftless heads of arrows southward cleaving through the ether, soon the wild-geese followed after. one long moon the sea-gull waited, watched and waited for her husband, till at last she heard his footsteps, heard him coming through the thicket. forth she went to met her husband, joyful went to greet her husband. lo behind the haughty hunter, closely following in his footsteps, walked a young and handsome woman, walked the red fox from the island-- gitchee ménis the grand island-- followed him into the wigwam, proudly took her seat beside him. on the red fox smiled the hunter, on the hunter smiled the woman. old and wrinkled was the sea-gull, good and true, but old and wrinkled. twenty winters for the panther had she ruled the humble wigwam, borne the burdens on the journey, gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, tanned the skins of bear and beaver, tanned the hides of moose and red-deer, made him moccasins and leggins, decked his hood with quills and feathers, colored quills of kaug, the thorny, feathers from the great war-eagle; ever diligent and faithful, ever patient, ne'er complaining. but like all brave men the panther loved a young and handsome woman; so he dallied with the danger, dallied with the fair algónkin,[ ] till a magic mead she gave him, brewed of buds of birch and cedar.[ ] madly then he loved the woman; then she ruled him, then she held him tangled in her raven tresses, tied and tangled in her tresses. ah, the tall and tawny panther! ah, the brave and brawny panther! son of waub-ojeeg, the warrior! with a slender hair she led him, with a slender hair she drew him, drew him often to her wigwam; there she bound him, there she held him tangled in her raven tresses, tied and tangled in her tresses. ah, the best of men are tangled-- sometimes tangled in the tresses of a fair and crafty woman. so the panther wed the red fox, and she followed to his wigwam. young again he seemed and gladsome, glad as raven when the father made his first bow from the elm-tree, from the ash-tree made his arrows, taught him how to aim his arrows, how to shoot wabóse--the rabbit. then again the brawny hunter brought the black bear and the beaver, brought the haunch of elk and red-deer, brought the rabbit and the pheasant-- choicest bits of all for red fox. for her robes he brought the sable, brought the otter and the ermine, brought the black-fox tipped with silver. but the sea-gull murmured never, not a word she spoke in anger, went about her work as ever, tanned the skins of bear and beaver, tanned the hides of moose and red-deer, gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, gathered rushes from the marshes; deftly into mats she wove them; kept the lodge as bright as ever. only to herself she murmured, all alone with waub-omeé-meé, on the tall and toppling highland, o'er the wilderness of waters; murmured to the murmuring waters, murmured to the nébe-nâw-baigs-- to the spirits of the waters; on the wild waves poured her sorrow. save the infant on her bosom with her dark eyes wide with wonder, none to hear her but the spirits, and the murmuring pines above her. thus she cast away her burdens, cast her burdens on the waters; thus unto the good great spirit, made her lowly lamentation: "wahonówin!--showiness![ ] gitchee mânito, benâ-nin! nah, ba-bâ, showâin neméshin! wahonówin!--wahonówin!" ka-be-bón-ík-ka,[ ] the mighty, he that sends the cruel winter, from the distant thunder-mountain on the shore of gitchee gumee, on the rugged northern border, sent his solemn, final warning, sent the white wolves of the nor'land.[ ] like the dust of stars in ether-- in the pathway of the spirits,[ ] like the sparkling dust of diamonds, fell the frost upon the forest, on the mountains and the meadows, on the wilderness of woodland, on the wilderness of waters. all the lingering fowls departed-- all that seek the south in winter, all but shingebís, the diver;[ ] he defies the winter-maker, sits and laughs at winter-maker. ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty, from his wigwam called kewâydin-- from his home among the icebergs, from the sea of frozen waters, called the swift and hungry north-wind. then he spread his mighty pinions over all the land and shook them. like the white down of waubésè[ ] fell the feathery snow and covered all the marshes and the meadows, all the hill-tops and the highlands. then old péböán[ ]--the winter-- laughed along the stormy waters, danced upon the windy headlands, on the storm his white hair streaming, and his steaming breath, ascending, on the pine-tops and the cedars fell in frosty mists of silver, sprinkling spruce and fir with silver, sprinkling all the woods with silver. by the lodge-fire all the winter sat the sea-gull and the red fox, sat and kindly spoke and chatted, till the twain seemed friends together. friends they seemed in word and action, but within the breast of either smoldered still the baneful embers-- fires of jealousy and hatred-- like a camp-fire in the forest left by hunters and deserted; only seems a bed of ashes, but the east wind, wâbun-noódin, scatters through the woods the ashes, fans to flame the sleeping embers, and the wild-fire roars and rages, roars and rages through the forest. so the baneful embers smoldered, smoldered in the breast of either. from the far-off sunny islands, from the pleasant land of summer, where the spirits of the blessed feel no more the fangs of hunger, or the cold breath of kewâydin, came a stately youth and handsome, came según,[ ] the foe of winter. like the rising sun his face was, like the shining stars his eyes were, light his footsteps as the morning's, in his hand were buds and blossoms, on his brow a blooming garland. straightway to the icy wigwam of old péböán, the winter, strode según and quickly entered. there old péböán sat and shivered, shivered o'er his dying lodge-fire. "ah, my son, i bid you welcome; sit and tell me your adventures; i will tell you of my power; we will pass the night together." thus spake péböán--the winter; then he filled his pipe and lighted; then by sacred custom raised it to the spirits in the ether; to the spirits in the caverns of the hollow earth he lowered it. thus he passed it to the spirits, and the unseen spirits puffed it. next himself old péböán honored; thrice he puffed his pipe and passed it, passed it to the handsome stranger. "lo i blow my breath," said winter, "and the laughing brooks are silent. hard as flint become the waters, and the rabbit runs upon them." then según, the fair youth, answered: "lo i breathe upon the hillsides, on the valleys and the meadows, and behold as if by magic-- by the magic of the spirits, spring the flowers and tender grasses." then old péböán replying: "_nah!_[ ] i breathe upon the forests, and the leaves fall sere and yellow; then i shake my locks and snow falls, covering all the naked landscape." then según arose and answered: "_nashké!_[ ]--see!--i shake my ringlets; on the earth the warm rain falleth, and the flowers look up like children glad-eyed from their mother's bosom. lo my voice recalls the robin, brings the bobolink and bluebird, and the woods are full of music. with my breath i melt their fetters, and the brooks leap laughing onward." then old péböán looked upon him, looked and knew según, the summer. from his eyes the big tears started and his boastful tongue was silent. now keezís--the great life-giver, from his wigwam in waubú-nong[ ] rose and wrapped his shining blanket round his giant form and started, westward started on his journey, striding on from hill to hill-top. upward then he climbed the ether-- on the bridge of stars[ ] he traveled, westward traveled on his journey to the far-off sunset mountains-- to the gloomy land of shadows. on the lodge-poles sang the robin-- and the brooks began to murmur. on the south-wind floated fragrance of the early buds and blossoms. from old péböán's eyes the tear-drops down his pale face ran in streamlets; less and less he grew in stature till he melted down to nothing; and behold, from out the ashes, from the ashes of his lodge-fire, sprang the miscodeed[ ] and, blushing, welcomed según to the north-land. so from sunny isles returning, from the summer-land of spirits, on the poles of panther's wigwam sang opeé-chee--sang the robin. in the maples cooed the pigeons-- cooed and wooed like silly lovers. "hah!--hah!" laughed the crow derisive, in the pine-top, at their folly-- laughed and jeered the silly lovers. blind with love were they, and saw not; deaf to all but love, and heard not; so they cooed and wooed unheeding, till the gray hawk pounced upon them, and the old crow shook with laughter. [illustration: segun and peboan] on the tall cliff by the sea-shore red fox made a swing. she fastened thongs of moose-hide to the pine-tree, to the strong arm of the pine-tree. like a hawk, above the waters, there she swung herself and fluttered, laughing at the thought of danger, swung and fluttered o'er the waters. then she bantered sea-gull, saying, "see!--i swing above the billows! dare you swing above the billows-- swing like me above the billows?" to herself said sea-gull--"surely i will dare whatever danger dares the red fox--dares my rival; she shall never call me coward." so she swung above the waters-- dizzy height above the waters, pushed and aided by her rival, to and fro with reckless daring, till the strong tree rocked and trembled, rocked and trembled with its burden. as above the yawning billows flew the sea-gull like a whirlwind, red fox, swifter than red lightning, cut the thongs, and headlong downward, like an osprey from the ether, like a wild-goose pierced with arrows, fluttering fell the frantic woman, fluttering fell into the waters-- plunged and sunk beneath the waters! hark!--the wailing of the west-wind! hark!--the wailing of the waters, and the beating of the billows! but no more the voice of sea-gull. [illustration: fluttering fell the frantic woman] in the wigwam sat the red fox, hushed the wail of waub-omeé-meé, weeping for her absent mother. with the twinkling stars the hunter from the forest came and raven. "sea-gull wanders late," said red fox, "late she wanders by the sea-shore, and some evil may befall her." in the misty morning twilight forth went panther and the raven, searched the forest and the marshes, searched for leagues along the lake-shore, searched the islands and the highlands; but they found no trace or tidings, found no track in marsh or meadow, found no trail in fen or forest, on the shore-sand found no footprints. many days they sought and found not. then to panther spoke the raven: "she is in the land of spirits-- surely in the land of spirits. high at midnight i beheld her-- like a flying star beheld her-- to the waves of gitchee gumee downward flashing through the ether. thus she flashed that i might see her, see and know my mother's spirit; thus she pointed to the waters, and beneath them lies her body, in the wigwam of the spirits-- in the lodge of nebe-nâw-baigs."[ ] then spoke panther to the raven: "on the tall cliff by the waters wait and watch with waub-omeé-meé. if the sea-gull hear the wailing of her infant she will answer." on the tall cliff by the waters so the raven watched and waited; all the day he watched and waited, but the hungry infant slumbered, slumbered by the side of raven, till the pines' gigantic shadows stretched and pointed to waubú-nong[ ]-- to the far-off land of sunrise; then the wee one woke and, famished, made a long and piteous wailing. from afar where sky and waters meet in misty haze and mingle, straight toward the rocky highland, straight as flies the feathered arrow, straight to raven and the infant, swiftly flew a snow-white sea-gull-- flew and touched the earth a woman. and behold, the long-lost mother caught her wailing child and nursed her, sang a lullaby and nursed her. thrice was wound a chain of silver round her waist and strongly fastened. far away into the waters-- to the wigwam of the spirits-- to the lodge of nebe-nâw-baigs-- stretched the magic chain of silver. spoke the mother to the raven: "o my son--my brave young hunter, feed my tender little orphan; be a father to my orphan; be a mother to my orphan-- for the crafty red fox robbed us-- robbed the sea-gull of her husband, robbed the infant of her mother. from this cliff the treacherous woman headlong into gitchee gumee plunged the mother of my orphan. then a nebe-nâw-baig caught me-- chief of all the nebe-nâw-baigs-- took me to his shining wigwam, in the cavern of the waters, deep beneath the mighty waters. all below is burnished copper, all above is burnished silver gemmed with amethyst and agates. as his wife the spirit holds me; by this silver chain he holds me. "when my little one is famished, when with long and piteous wailing cries the orphan for her mother, hither bring her, o my raven; i will hear her--i will answer. now the nebe-nâw-baig calls me-- pulls the chain--i must obey him." thus she spoke, and in the twinkling of a star the spirit-woman changed into a snow-white sea-gull, spread her wings and o'er the waters swiftly flew and swiftly vanished. then in secret to the panther raven told his tale of wonder. sad and sullen was the hunter; sorrow gnawed his heart like hunger; all the old love came upon him, and the new love was a hatred. hateful to his heart was red fox, but he kept from her the secret-- kept his knowledge of the murder. vain was she and very haughty-- oge-mâ-kwa[ ] of the wigwam. all in vain her fond caresses on the panther now she lavished; when she smiled his face was sullen, when she laughed he frowned upon her; in her net of raven tresses now no more she held him tangled. now through all her fair disguises panther saw an evil spirit, saw the false heart of the woman. on the tall cliff o'er the waters raven sat with waub-omeé-meé, sat and watched again and waited, till the wee one, faint and famished, made a long and piteous wailing. then again the snow-white sea-gull, from afar where sky and waters meet in misty haze and mingle, straight toward the rocky highland, straight as flies the feathered arrow, straight to raven and the infant, with the silver chain around her, flew and touched the earth a woman. in her arms she caught her infant-- caught the wailing waub-omeé-meé, sang a lullaby and nursed her. sprang the panther from the thicket-- sprang and broke the chain of silver! with his tomahawk he broke it. thus he freed the willing sea-gull-- from the water-spirit freed her, from the chief of nebe-nâw-baigs. very angry was the spirit; when he drew the chain of silver, drew and found that it was broken, found that he had lost the woman, very angry was the spirit. then he raged beneath the waters, raged and smote the mighty waters, till the big sea boiled and bubbled, till the white-haired, bounding billows roared around the rocky headlands, rolled and roared upon the shingle. to the wigwam happy panther, as when first he wooed and won her led his wife--as young and handsome. for the waves of gitchee gumee washed away the frost and wrinkles, and the spirits by their magic made her young and fair forever. in the wigwam sat the red fox, sat and sang a song of triumph, for she little dreamed of danger, till the haughty hunter entered, followed by the happy mother, holding in her arms her infant. when the red fox saw the sea-gull-- saw the dead a living woman, one wild cry she gave despairing, one wild cry as of a demon. up she sprang and from the wigwam to the tall cliff flew in terror; frantic sprang upon the margin, frantic plunged into the waters, headlong plunged into the waters. dead she tossed upon the billows; for the nebe-nâw-baigs knew her, knew the crafty, wicked woman, and they cast her from the waters, spurned her from their shining wigwams; far away upon the shingle with the roaring waves they cast her. there upon her bloated body fed the cawing crows and ravens, fed the hungry wolves and foxes. on the shore of gitchee gumee, ever young and ever handsome, long and happy lived the sea-gull, long and happy with the panther. evermore the happy hunter loved the mother of his children. like a red star many winters blazed their lodge-fire on the sea-shore. o'er the bridge of souls[ ] together walked the sea-gull and the panther. to the far-off sunny islands-- to the summer-land of spirits, sea-gull journeyed with her husband-- where no more the happy hunter feels the fangs of frost or famine, or the keen blasts of kewâydin, where no pain or sorrow enters, and no crafty, wicked woman. there she rules his lodge forever, and the twain are very happy, on the far-off sunny islands, in the summer-land of spirits. on the rocks of gitchee gumee-- on the pictured rocks--the legend long ago was traced and written, pictured by the water-spirits; but the storms of many winters have bedimmed the pictured story, so that none can read the legend but the jossakeeds,[ ] the prophets. poetry. i had rather write one word upon the rock of ages than ten thousand in the sand. the rock of ages! lo i cannot reach its lofty shoulders with my puny hand: i can but touch the sands about its feet. yea, i have painted pictures for the blind, and sung my sweetest songs to ears of stone. what matter if the dust of ages drift five fathoms deep above my grave unknown, for i have sung and loved the songs i sung. who sings for fame the muses may disown; who sings for gold will sing an idle song; but he who sings because sweet music springs unbidden from his heart and warbles long, may haply touch another heart unknown. there is sweeter poetry in the hearts of men than ever poet wrote or minstrel sung; for words are clumsy wings for burning thought. the full heart falters on the stammering tongue, and silence is more eloquent than song when tender souls are wrung by grief or shameful wrong. the grandest poem is god's universe: in measured rhythm the planets whirl their course: rhythm swells and throbs in every sun and star, in mighty ocean's organ-peals and roar, in billows bounding on the harbor-bar, in the blue surf that rolls upon the shore, in the low zephyr's sigh, the tempest's sob, in the rain's patter and the thunder's roar; aye, in the awful earthquake's shuddering throb, when old earth cracks her bones and trembles to her core. i hear a piper piping on a reed to listening flocks of sheep and bearded goats; i hear the larks shrill-warbling o'er the mead their silver sonnets from their golden throats; and in my boyhood's clover-fields i hear the twittering swallows and the hum of bees. ah, sweeter to my heart and to my ear than any idyl poet ever sung, the low, sweet music of their melodies; because i listened when my soul was young, in those dear meadows under maple trees. my heart they molded when its clay was moist, and all my life the hum of honey-bees hath waked in me a spirit that rejoiced, and touched the trembling chords of tenderest memories. i hear loud voices and a clamorous throng with braying bugles and with bragging drums-- bards and bardies laboring at a song. one lifts his locks, above the rest preferred, and to the buzzing flies of fashion thrums a banjo. lo him follow all the herd. when nero's wife put on her auburn wig, and at the coliseum showed her head, the hair of every dame in rome turned red; when nero fiddled all rome danced a jig. novelty sets the gabbling geese agape, and fickle fashion follows like an ape. aye, brass is plenty; gold is scarce and dear; crystals abound, but diamonds still are rare. is this the golden age, or the age of gold? lo by the page or column fame is sold. hear the big journal braying like an ass; behold the brazen statesmen as they pass; see dapper poets hurrying for their dimes with hasty verses hammered out in rhymes: the muses whisper--'"tis the age of brass." workmen are plenty, but the masters few-- fewer to-day than in the days of old. rare blue-eyed pansies peeping pearled with dew, and lilies lifting up their heads of gold, among the gaudy cockscombs i behold, and here and there a lotus in the shade; and under english oaks a rose that ne'er will fade. fair barks that flutter in the sun your sails, piping anon to gay and tented shores sweet music and low laughter, it is well ye hug the haven when the tempest roars, for only stalwart ships of oak or steel may dare the deep and breast the billowy sea when sweeps the thunder-voiced, dark hurricane, and the mad ocean shakes his shaggy mane, and roars through all his grim and vast immensity. the stars of heaven shine not till it is dark. seven cities strove for homer's bones, 'tis said, "through which the living homer begged for bread." when in their coffins they lay dumb and stark shakespeare began to live, dante to sing, and poe's sweet lute began its werbelling. rear monuments of fame or flattery-- think ye their sleeping souls are made aware? heap o'er their heads sweet praise or calumny-- think ye their moldering ashes hear or care? nay, praise and fame are by the living sought; but he is wise who scorns their flattery, and who escapes the tongue of calumny may count himself an angel or a naught: lo over byron's grave a maggot writhes distraught. genius is patience, labor and good sense. steel and the mind grow bright by frequent use; in rest they rust. a goodly recompense comes from hard toil, but not from its abuse. the slave, the idler, are alike unblessed; aye, in loved labor only is there rest. but he will read and range and rhyme in vain who hath no dust of diamonds in his brain; and untaught genius is a gem undressed. the life of man is short, but art is long, and labor is the lot of mortal man, ordained by god since human time began: day follows day and brings its toil and song. behind the western mountains sinks the moon, the silver dawn steals in upon the dark, up from the dewy meadow wheels the lark and trills his welcome to the rising sun, and lo another day of labor is begun. poets are born, not made, some scribbler said, and every rhymester thinks the saying true: better unborn than wanting labor's aid: aye, all great poets--all great men--are made between the hammer and the anvil. few have the true metal, many have the fire. no slave or savage ever proved a bard; men have their bent, but labor its reward, and untaught fingers cannot tune the lyre. the poet's brain with spirit-vision teems; the voice of nature warbles in his heart; a sage, a seer, he moves from men apart, and walks among the shadows of his dreams; he sees god's light that in all nature beams; and when he touches with the hand of art the song of nature welling from his heart, and guides it forth in pure and limpid streams, truth sparkles in the song and like a diamond gleams. time and patience change the mulberry-leaf to shining silk; the lapidary's skill makes the rough diamond sparkle at his will, and cuts a gem from quartz or coral-reef. better a skillful cobbler at his last than unlearned poet twangling on the lyre; who sails on land and gallops on the blast, and mounts the welkin on a braying ass, clattering a shattered cymbal bright with brass, and slips his girth and tumbles in the mire. all poetry must be, if it be true, like the keen arrows of the--grecian god apollo, that caught fire as they flew. ah, such was byron's, but alas he trod ofttimes among the brambles and the rue, and sometimes dived full deep and brought up mud. but when he touched with tears, as only he could touch, the tender chords of sympathy, his coldest critics warmed and marveled much, and all old england's heart throbbed to his thrilling touch. truth is the touchstone of all genius art, in poet, painter, sculptor, is the same: what cometh from the heart goes to the heart, what comes from effort only is but tame. nature the only perfect artist is: who studies nature may approach her skill; perfection hers, but never can be his, though her sweet voice his very marrow thrill; the finest works of art are nature's shadows still. look not for faultless men or faultless art; small faults are ever virtue's parasites: as in a picture shadows show the lights, so human foibles show a human heart. o while i live and linger on the brink let the dear muses be my company; their nectared goblets let my parched lips drink; ah, let me drink the _soma_ of their lips! as humming-bird the lily's nectar sips, or _houris_ sip the wine of salsabil. aye, let me to their throbbing music thrill, and let me never for one moment think, although no laurel crown my constancy, their gracious smiles are false, their dearest kiss a lie. twenty years ago i am growing old and weary ere yet my locks are gray; before me lies eternity, behind me--but a day. how fast the years are vanishing! they melt like april snow: it seems to me but yesterday-- twenty years ago. there's the school-house on the hill-side, and the romping scholars all; where we used to con our daily tasks, and play our games of ball. they rise to me in visions-- in sunny dreams--and ho' i sport among the boys and girls twenty years ago. we played at ball in summer time-- we boys--with hearty will; with merry shouts in winter time we coasted on the hill. we would choose our chiefs, divide in bands, and build our forts of snow, and storm those forts right gallantly-- twenty years ago. last year in june i visited that dear old sacred spot, but the school-house on the hill-side and the merry shouts were not. a church was standing where it stood; i looked around, but no-- i could not see the boys and girls of twenty years ago. there was sister dear, and brother, around the old home-hearth; and a tender, christian mother, too angel-like for earth. she used to warn me from the paths where thorns and brambles grow, and lead me in the "narrow way"-- twenty years ago. i loved her and i honored her through all my boyhood years; i knew her joys--i knew her cares-- i knew her hopes and fears. but alas, one autumn morning she left her home below, and she left us there a-weeping-- twenty years ago. they bore her to the church-yard, with slow and solemn pace; and there i took my last fond look on her dear, peaceful face. they lowered her in her silent grave, while we bowed our heads in woe, and they heaped the sods above her head-- twenty years ago. that low, sweet voice--my mother's voice-- i never can forget; and in those loving eyes i see the big tears trembling yet. i try to tread the "narrow way;" i stumble oft i know: i miss--how much!--the helping hand of twenty years ago. mary--(mary i will call you-- 'tis not the old-time name) sainted mary--blue-eyed mary-- are you in heaven the same? are your eyes as bright and beautiful, your cheeks as full of glow, as when the school-boy kissed you, may, twenty years ago? how we swung upon the grape-vine down by the genesee; and i caught the speckled trout for you, while you gathered flowers for me: how we rambled o'er the meadows with brows and cheeks aglow, and hearts like god's own angels-- twenty years ago. [illustration: how, we swung upon the grape-vine down by the genesee, and i caught the speckled trout for you, while you gathered flowers for me] how our young hearts grew together until they beat as one; distrust it could not enter; cares and fears were none. all my love was yours, dear mary, 'twas boyish love, i know; but i ne'er have loved as then i loved-- twenty years ago. how we pictured out the future-- the golden coming years, and saw no cloud in all our sky, no gloomy mist of tears; but ah--how vain are human hopes! the angels came--and o-- they bore my darling up to heaven-- twenty years ago. i will not tell--i cannot tell-- what anguish wrung my soul; but a silent grief is on my heart though the years so swiftly roll; and i cannot shake it off, may, this lingering sense of woe, though i try to drown the memory of twenty years ago. i am fighting life's stern battle, may, with all my might and main; but a seat by you and mother there is the dearest prize to gain; and i know you both are near me, whatever winds may blow, for i feel your spirits cheer me like twenty years ago. betzko a hungarian legend stibor had led in many a fight, and broken a score of swords in furious frays and bloody raids against the turkish hordes. and sigismund, the polish king, who joined the magyar bands, bestowed upon the valiant knight a broad estate of lands. once when the wars were o'er, the knight was holding wassail high, and the valiant men that followed him were at the revelry. betzko, his jester, pleased him so he vowed it his the task to do whatever in human power his witty fool might ask. "build on yon cliff," the jester cried, in drunken jollity, "a mighty castle high and wide, and name it after me." "ah, verily a jester's prayer," exclaimed the knightly crew, "to ask of such a noble lord what you know he cannot do." "who says i cannot," stibor cried, "do whatsoe'er i will? within one year a castle shall stand on yonder rocky hill-- "a castle built of ponderous stones, to give me future fame; in honor of my witty fool, betzko shall be its name." now the cliff was high three hundred feet, and perpendicular; and the skill that could build a castle there must come from lands afar. and craftsmen came from foreign lands, italian, german and jew-- apprentices and fellow-craftsmen, and master-masons, too. and every traveler journeying along the mountain-ways was held to pay his toll of toil on the castle for seven days. slowly they raised the massive towers upon the steep ascent, and all around a thousand hands built up the battlement. three hundred feet above the glen-- (by the steps five hundred feet)-- the castle stood upon the cliff at the end of the year--complete. now throughout all the magyar land there's none other half so high, so massive built, so strong and grand;-- it reaches the very sky. but from that same high battlement (say tales by gypsies told) the valiant stibor met his death when he was cross and old. i'll tell you the tale as they told it to me, and i doubt not it is true, for 'twas handed down from the middle ages from the lips of knights who knew. one day when the knight was old and cross, and a little the worse for grog, betzko, the jester, thoughtlessly struck stibor's favorite dog. now the dog was a hound and stibor's pet, and as white as carpathian snow, and stibor hurled old betzko down from the walls to the rocks below. and as the jester headlong fell from the dizzy, dreadful height, he muttered a curse with his latest breath on the head of the cruel knight. one year from that day old stibor held his drunken wassail long, and spent the hours till the cock crew morn in jest and wine and song. then he sought his garden on the cliff, and lay down under a vine to sleep away the lethargy of a wassail-bowl of wine. while sleeping soundly under the shade, and dreaming of revelries, an adder crawled upon his breast, and bit him in both his eyes. blinded and mad with pain he ran toward the precipice, unheeding till he headlong fell adown the dread abyss. just where old betzko's blood had dyed with red the old rocks gray, quivering and bleeding and dumb and dead old stibor's body lay. wesselenyi a hungarian tale when madly raged religious war o'er all the magyar land and royal archer and hussar met foemen hand to hand, a princess fair in castle strong the royal troops defied and bravely held her fortress long though help was all denied. princess maria was her name-- brave daughter nobly sired; she caught her father's trusty sword when bleeding he expired, and bravely rallied warders all to meet the storming foe, and hurled them from the rampart-wall upon the crags below. prince casimir--her father--built murana high and wide; it sat among the mountain cliffs-- the magyars' boast and pride. bold wesselenyi--stalwart knight, young, famed and wondrous fair, with a thousand men besieged the height, and led the bravest there. and long he tried the arts of war to take that castle-hold, till many a proud and plumed hussar was lying stiff and cold; and still the frowning castle stood a grim, unbroken wall, like some lone rock in stormy seas that braves the billows all. bold wesselenyi's cheeks grew thin; a solemn oath he sware that if he failed the prize to win his bones should molder there. two toilsome months had worn away, two hundred men were slain, his bold assaults were baffled still, and all his arts were vain. but love is mightier than the sword, he clad him in disguise-- in the dress of an inferior lord-- to win the noble prize. he bade his armed men to wait, to cease the battle-blare and sought alone the castle-gate to hold a parley there. aloft a flag of truce he bore: her warders bade him pass; within he met the princess fair all clad in steel and brass. her bright, black eyes and queenly art, sweet lips and raven hair, smote bold young wesselenyi's heart while he held parley there. cunning he talked of great reward and royal favor, too, if she would yield her father's sword; she sternly answered "no." but even while they parleyed there maria's lustrous eyes looked tenderly and lovingly on the chieftain in disguise. "go tell your gallant chief," she said, "to keep his paltry pelf; the knight who would my castle win, must dare to come himself." and forth she sternly bade him go, but followed with her eyes. i ween she knew the brave knight well through all his fair disguise. but when had dawned another morn, he bade his bugleman to sound again the parley-horn ere yet the fray began. and forth he sent a trusty knight to seek the castle-gate and to the princess privately his message to relate;-- that he it was who in disguise her warders bade to pass, and while he parleyed there her eyes had pierced his plates of brass. his heart he offered and his hand, and pledged a signet-ring if she would yield her brave command unto his gracious king. "go tell your chief," maria cried-- "audacious as he is-- if he be worthy such a bride my castle and hand are his. but he should know that lady fair by faint heart ne'er was won; so let your gallant chieftain, sir, come undisguised alone. "and he may see in the northern tower, over yonder precipice, a lone, dim light at the midnight hour shine down the dark abyss. and over the chasm's dungeon-gloom shall a slender ladder hang; and if alone he dare to come,-- unarmed--without a clang, "more of his suit your chief shall hear perhaps may win the prize; tell him the way is hedged with fear,-- one misstep and he dies. nor will i pledge him safe retreat from out yon guarded tower; my watchful warders all to cheat may be beyond my power." at midnight's dark and silent hour the tall and gallant knight sought on the cliff the northern tower, and saw the promised light. with toil he climbed the cragged cliff, and there the ladder found; and o'er the yawning gulf he clomb the ladder round by round. and as he climbed the ladder bent above the yawning deep, but bravely to the port he went and entered at a leap full twenty warders thronged the hall each with his blade in hand; they caught the brave knight like a thrall and bound him foot and hand. they tied him fast to an iron ring, at maria's stern command, and then they jeered--"god save the king and all his knightly band!" they bound a bandage o'er his eyes, then the haughty princess said: "audacious knight, i hold a prize,-- my castle or your head! "now, mark!--desert the king's command, and join your sword with mine, and thine shall be my heart and hand, this castle shall be thine. i grant one hour for thee to choose, my bold and gallant lord; and if my offer you refuse you perish by the sword!" he spoke not a word, but his face was pale and he prayed a silent prayer; but his heart was oak and it could not quail, and a secret oath he sware. and grim stood the warders armed all, in the torches' flicker and flare, as they watch for an hour in the gloomy hall the brave knight pinioned there. the short--the flying hour is past, the warders have bared his breast; the bugler bugles a doleful blast; will the pale knight stand the test? he has made his choice--he will do his part, he has sworn and he cannot lie, and he cries with the sword at his beating heart,-- "_betray?--nay--better to die!_" suddenly fell from his blue eyes the silken, blinding bands, and while he looked in sheer surprise they freed his feet and hands. "i give thee my castle," maria cried, "and i give thee my heart and hand, and maria will be the proudest bride in all this magyar land. "grant heaven that thou be true to me as thou art to the king, and i'll bless the day i gave to thee my castle for a ring." the red blood flushed to the brave knight's face as he looked on the lady fair; he sprang to her arms in a fond embrace, and he married her then and there. so the little blind elf with his feathered shaft did more than the sword could do, for he conquered and took with his magical craft her heart and her castle, too. [illustration: wesselenyi] isabel fare-thee-well: on my soul the toll of bell trembles. thou art calmly sleeping while my weary heart is weeping: i cannot listen to thy knell: fare-thee-well. sleep and rest: sorrow shall not pain thy breast, pangs and pains that pierce the mortal cannot enter at the portal of the mansion of the blest: sleep and rest. slumber sweet, heart that nevermore will beat at the footsteps of thy lover; all thy cares and fears are over. in thy silent winding-sheet slumber sweet. fare-thee-well: in the garden and the dell where thou lov'dst to stroll and meet me, nevermore thy kiss shall greet me, nevermore, o isabel! fare-thee-well. we shall meet-- where the wings of angels beat: when my toils and cares are over, thou shalt greet again thy lover-- robed and crowned at jesus' feet we shall meet. watch and wait at the narrow, golden gate; watch my coming,--wait my greeting, for my years are few and fleeting and my love shall not abate: watch and wait. so farewell, o my darling isabel; till we meet in the supernal mansion and with love eternal in the golden city dwell, fare-thee-well. byron and the angel _poet:_ "why this fever--why this sighing?-- why this restless longing--dying for--a something--dreamy something, undefined, and yet defying all the pride and power of manhood? "o these years of sin and sorrow! smiling while the iron harrow of a keen and biting longing tears and quivers in the marrow of my being every moment-- of my very inmost being. "what to me the mad ambition for men's praise and proud position-- struggling, fighting to the summit of its vain and earthly mission, to lie down on bed of ashes-- bed of barren, bitter ashes? "cure this fever? i have tried it; smothered, drenched it and defied it with a will of brass and iron; every smile and look denied it; yet it heeded not denying, and it mocks at my defying while my very soul is dying. "is there balm in gilead?--tell me! nay--no balm to soothe and quell me? must i tremble in this fever? death, o lift thy hand and fell me; let me sink to rest forever where this burning cometh never. "sometimes when this restless madness softens down to mellow sadness, i look back on sun-lit valleys where my boyish heart of gladness nestled without pain or longing-- nestled softly in a vision full of love and hope's fruition, lulled by morning songs of spring-time. "then i ponder, and i wonder was some heart-chord snapped asunder when the threads were soft and silken? did some fatal boyish blunder plant a canker in my bosom that hath ever burned and rankled? "o this thirsting, thirsting hanker! o this burning, burning canker' driving peace and hope to shipwreck-- without rudder, without anchor, on the reef-rocks of damnation!" _invisible angel:_ "jesus--son of virgin mary; lift the burden from the weary: pity, jesus, and anoint him with the holy balm of gilead." _poet:_ "yea, christ jesus, pour thy blessings on these terrible heart-pressings: o i bless thee, unseen angel; lead me--teach me, holy spirit." _angel:_ "there is balm in gilead! there is balm in gilead! peace awaits thee with caressings-- sitting at the feet of jesus-- at the right-hand of jehovah-- at the blessed feet of jesus;--alleluia!" christmas eve i from church and chapel and dome and tower, near--far and everywhere, the merry bells chime loud and clear upon the frosty air. all down the marble avenues the lamp-lit casements glow, and from an hundred palaces glad carols float and flow. a thousand lamps from street to street blaze on the dusky air, and light the way for happy feet to carol, praise and prayer. 'tis christmas eve. in church and hall the laden fir-trees bend; glad children throng the festival and grandsires too attend. fur-wrapped and gemmed with pearls and gold, proud ladies rich and fair as egypt's splendid queen of old in all her pomp are there. and many a costly, golden gift hangs on each christmas-tree, while round and round the carols drift in waves of melody. ii in a dim and dingy attic, away from the pomp and glare, a widow sits by a flickering lamp, bowed down by toil and care. on her toil-worn hand her weary head, at her feet a shoe half-bound, on the bare, brown table a loaf of bread, and hunger and want around. by her side at the broken window, with her rosy feet all bare, her little one carols a christmas tune to the chimes on the frosty air. and the mother dreams of the by-gone years and their merry christmas-bells, till her cheeks are wet with womanly tears, and a sob in her bosom swells. [illustration: and the mother dreams of the by gone years, and their merry christmas bells] the child looked up; her innocent ears had caught the smothered cry; she saw the pale face wet with tears she fain would pacify. "don't cry, mama," she softly said-- "here's a christmas gift for you," and on the mother's cheek a kiss she printed warm and true. "god bless my child!" the mother cried and caught her to her breast-- "o lord, whose son was crucified, thy precious gift is best. "if toil and trouble be my lot while on life's sea i drift, o lord, my soul shall murmur not, if thou wilt spare thy gift." out of the depths and the scribes and pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery, and when they had set her in the midst, they said unto him "master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. now moses in the law commanded us that such be stoned; but what sayest thou?"--[_st. john_, chap, viii; , , . reach thy hand to me, o jesus; reach thy loving hand to me, or i sink, alas, and perish in my sin and agony. from the depths i cry, o jesus, lifting up mine eyes to thee; save me from my sin and sorrow with thy loving charity. pity, jesus--blessed savior; i am weak, but thou art strong; fill my heart with prayer and praises, fill my soul with holy song. lift me up, o sacred jesus-- lift my bruised heart to thee; teach me to be pure and holy as the holy angels be. scribes and pharisees surround me: thou art writing in the sand: must i perish, son of mary? wilt thou give the stern command? am i saved?--for jesus sayeth-- "let the sinless cast a stone." lo the scribes have all departed, and the pharisees are gone! "woman, where are thine accusers?" (they have vanished one by one.) "hath no man condemned thee, woman?" and she meekly answered--"none." then he spake his blessed answer-- balm indeed for sinners sore-- "neither then will i condemn thee: go thy way and sin no more." fame dust of the desert are thy walls and temple-towers, o babylon! o'er crumbled halls the lizard crawls, and serpents bask in blaze of sun. in vain kings piled the pyramids; their tombs were robbed by ruthless hands. who now shall sing their fame and deeds, or sift their ashes from the sands? deep in the drift of ages hoar lie nations lost and kings forgot; above their graves the oceans roar, or desert sands drift o'er the spot. a thousand years are but a day when reckoned on the wrinkled earth; and who among the wise shall say what cycle saw the primal birth of man, who lords on sea and land, and builds his monuments to-day, like syrian on the desert sand, to crumble and be blown away. proud chiefs of pageant armies led to fame and death their followers forth, ere helen sinned and hector bled, or odin ruled the rugged north. and poets sang immortal praise to mortal heroes ere the fire of homer blazed in ilion lays, or brage tuned the northern lyre. for fame men piled the pyramids; their names have perished with their bones: for fame men wrote their boasted deeds on babel bricks and runic stones-- on tyrian temples, gates of brass, on roman arch and damask blades, and perished like the desert grass that springs to-day--to-morrow--fades. and still for fame men delve and die in afric heat and arctic cold; for fame on flood and field they vie, or gather in the shining gold. time, like the ocean, onward rolls relentless, burying men and deeds; the brightest names, the bravest souls, float but an hour like ocean weeds, then sink forever. in the slime-- forgotten, lost forevermore, lies fame from every age and clime; yet thousands clamor on the shore. immortal fame!--o dust and death! the centuries as they pass proclaim that fame is but a mortal breath, that man must perish--name and fame. the earth is but a grain of sand-- an atom in a shoreless sea; a million worlds lie in god's hand-- yea, myriad millions--what are we? o mortal man of bone and blood! then is there nothing left but dust? god made us; he is wise and good, and we may humbly hope and trust. winona. _when the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas and the oriole piped in the maples, from my hammock, all under the trees, by the sweet-scented field of red clover, i harked to the hum of the bees, as they gathered the mead of the blossoms, and caught from their low melodies the air of the song of winona_. (in pronouncing dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah,"--"e" the sound of "a,"--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo." sound "ee" as in english. the numerals refer to notes in appendix.) * * * * * two hundred white winters and more have fled from the face of the summer, since here on the oak-shaded shore of the dark-winding, swift mississippi, where his foaming floods tumble and roar o'er the falls and the white-rolling rapids, in the fair, fabled center of earth, sat the indian town of _ka-thá-ga_. [ ] far rolling away to the north, and the south, lay the emerald prairies, all dotted with woodlands and lakes, and above them the blue bent of ether. and here where the dark river breaks into spray and the roar of the _ha-ha_, [ ] where gathered the bison-skin _tees_[f] of the chief tawny tribe of dakotas; for here, in the blast and the breeze, flew the flag of the chief of _isantees_, [ ] up-raised on the stem of a lance-- the feathery flag of the eagle. and here to the feast and the dance, from the prairies remote and the forests, oft gathered the out-lying bands, and honored the gods of the nation. on the islands and murmuring strands they danced to the god of the waters, _unktéhee_, [ ] who dwelt in the caves, deep under the flood of the _ha-ha_; [ ] and high o'er the eddies and waves hung their offerings of furs and tobacco,[g] and here to the master of life-- _anpé-tu-wee_, [ ] god of the heavens, chief, warrior, and maiden, and wife, burned the sacred green sprigs of the cedar. [ ] and here to the searcher-of-hearts-- fierce _tá-ku skan-skán_, [ ] the avenger, who dwells in the uppermost parts of the earth, and the blue, starry ether, ever watching, with all-seeing eyes, the deeds of the wives and the warriors, as an osprey afar in the skies, sees the fish as they swim in the waters, oft spread they the bison-tongue feast, and singing preferred their petitions, till the day-spirit[ ] rose in the east-- in the red, rosy robes of the morning, to sail o'er the sea of the skies, to his lodge in the land of the shadows, where the black-winged tornadoes[h] arise, rushing loud from the mouths of their caverns. and here with a shudder they heard, flying far from his _tee_ in the mountains, _wa-kín-yan_,[ ] the huge thunder-bird, with the arrows of fire in his talons. [f] _tee--teepee_, the dakota name for tent or wigwam [g] see _hennepin's description of louisiana_, by shea, pp. and . _parkman's discovery_, p. --and _carver's travels_, p. . [illustration: falls of st. anthony. facsimile of the cut in carver's travels, published at london, in , from a survey and sketch made by capt. j. carver, nov. , . perpendicular fall, feet; breadth near feet.] [h] the dakotas, like the ancient romans and greeks, think the home of the winds is in the caverns of the mountains, and their great thunder-bird resembles in many respects the jupiter of the romans and the zeus of the greeks. the resemblance of the dakota mythology to that of the older greeks and romans is striking. two hundred white winters and more have fled from the face of the summer since here by the cataract's roar, in the moon of the red-blooming lilies,[ ] in the _tee_ of ta-té-psin[i] was born winona--wild-rose of the prairies. like the summer sun peeping, at morn, o'er the hills was the face of winona. and here she grew up like a queen-- a romping and lily-lipped laughter, and danced on the undulant green, and played in the frolicsome waters, where the foaming tide tumbles and whirls o'er the murmuring rocks in the rapids; and whiter than foam were the pearls that gleamed in the midst of her laughter. long and dark was her flowing hair flung like the robe of the night to the breezes; and gay as the robin she sung, or the gold-breasted lark of the meadows. like the wings of the wind were her feet, and as sure as the feet of _ta-tó-ka_[j] and oft like an antelope fleet o'er the hills and the prairies she bounded, lightly laughing in sport as she ran, and looking back over her shoulder at the fleet-footed maiden or man that vainly her flying feet followed. the belle of the village was she, and the pride of the aged ta-té-psin, like a sunbeam she lighted his _tee_, and gladdened the heart of her father. [i] _tate_--wind,--_psin_--wild-rice--wild-rice wind. [j] mountain antelope. in the golden-hued _wázu-pe-weé_-- the moon when the wild-rice is gathered; when the leaves on the tall sugar-tree are as red as the breast of the robin, and the red-oaks that border the lea are aflame with the fire of the sunset, from the wide, waving fields of wild-rice-- from the meadows of _psin-ta-wak-pá-dan_,[k] where the geese and the mallards rejoice, and grow fat on the bountiful harvest, came the hunters with saddles of moose and the flesh of the bear and the bison, and the women in birch-bark canoes well laden with rice from the meadows. [k] little rice river. it bears the name of rice creek to-day and empties into the mississippi from the east, a few miles above minneapolis. with the tall, dusky hunters, behold, came a marvelous man or a spirit, white-faced and so wrinkled and old, and clad in the robe of the raven. unsteady his steps were and slow, and he walked with a staff in his right hand, and white as the first-falling snow were the thin locks that lay on his shoulders. like rime-covered moss hung his beard, flowing down from his face to his girdle; and wan was his aspect and weird, and often he chanted and mumbled in a strange and mysterious tongue, as he bent o'er his book in devotion, or lifted his dim eyes and sung, in a low voice, the solemn "_te deum_," or latin, or hebrew, or greek-- all the same were his words to the warriors,-- all the same to the maids and the meek, wide-wondering-eyed, hazel-brown children. father rené menard [l]--it was he, long lost to his jesuit brothers, sent forth by an holy decree to carry the cross to the heathen. in his old age abandoned to die, in the swamps, by his timid companions, he prayed to the virgin on high, and she led him forth from the forest; for angels she sent him as men-- in the forms of the tawny dakotas, and they led his feet from the fen, from the slough of despond and the desert, half dead in a dismal morass, as they followed the red-deer they found him, in the midst of the mire and the grass, and mumbling "_te deum laudamus._" "_unktómee[ ]--ho!_" muttered the braves, for they deemed him the black spider-spirit that dwells in the drearisome caves, and walks on the marshes at midnight, with a flickering torch in his hand, to decoy to his den the unwary. his tongue could they not understand, but his torn hands all shriveled with famine he stretched to the hunters and said: "he feedeth his chosen with manna; and ye are the angels of god sent to save me from death in the desert." his famished and woe-begone face, and his tones touched the hearts of the hunters; they fed the poor father apace, and they led him away to _ka-thá-ga._ [l] see the account of father menard, his mission and disappearance in the wilderness. _neill's hist. minnesota_, pp - , inc. there little by little he learned the tongue of the tawny dakotas; and the heart of the good father yearned to lead them away from their idols-- their giants[ ] and dread thunder-birds-- their worship of stones[ ] and the devil. "_wakán-de!_"[m] they answered his words, for he read from his book in the latin, lest the nazarene's holy commands by his tongue should be marred in translation; and oft with his beads in his hands, or the cross and the crucified jesus, he knelt by himself on the sands, and his dim eyes uplifted to heaven. but the braves bade him look to the east-- to the silvery lodge of _han-nán-na_;[n] and to dance with the chiefs at the feast-- at the feast of the giant _heyó-ka._[ ] they frowned when the good father spurned the flesh of the dog in the kettle, and laughed when his fingers were burned in the hot, boiling pot of the giant. "the black-robe" they called the poor priest, from the hue of his robe and his girdle; and never a game or a feast but the father must grace with his presence. his prayer-book the hunters revered,-- they deemed it a marvelous spirit; it spoke and the white father heard,-- it interpreted visions and omens. and often they bade him to pray this marvelous spirit to answer, and tell where the sly chippewa might be ambushed and slain in his forest. for menard was the first in the land, proclaiming, like john in the desert, "the kingdom of heaven is at hand; repent ye, and turn from your idols." the first of the brave brotherhood that, threading the fens and the forest, stood afar by the turbulent flood at the falls of the father of waters. [illustration: father rene menard] [m] it is wonderful! [n] the morning. in the lodge of the stranger[o] he sat, awaiting the crown of a martyr; his sad face compassion begat in the heart of the dark-eyed winona. oft she came to the _teepee_ and spoke; she brought him the tongue of the bison, sweet nuts from the hazel and oak, and flesh of the fawn and the mallard. soft _hánpa_[p] she made for his feet and leggins of velvety fawn-skin, a blanket of beaver complete, and a hood of the hide of the otter. and oft at his feet on the mat, deftly braiding the flags and the rushes, till the sun sought his _teepee_ she sat, enchanted with what he related of the white-wingèd ships on the sea and the _teepees_ far over the ocean, of the love and the sweet charity of the christ and the beautiful virgin. [o] a lodge set apart for guests of the village. [p] moccasins. she listened like one in a trance when he spoke of the brave, bearded frenchmen, from the green, sun-lit valleys of france to the wild _hochelága_[q] transplanted, oft trailing the deserts of snow in the heart of the dense huron forests, or steering the dauntless canoe through the waves of the fresh-water ocean. "yea, stronger and braver are they," said the aged menard to winona, "than the head-chief, tall wazi-kuté,[ ] but their words are as soft as a maiden's, their eyes are the eyes of the swan, but their hearts are the hearts of the eagles; and the terrible _mása wakán_[r] ever walks by their side like a spirit; like a thunder-bird, roaring in wrath, flinging fire from his terrible talons, he sends to their enemies death in the flash of the fatal _wakándee_."[s] [q] the ottawa name for the region of the st. lawrence river. [r] "mysterious metal"--or metal having a spirit in it. this is the common name applied by the dakotas to all firearms. [s] lightning. the autumn was past and the snow lay drifted and deep on the prairies; from his _teepee_ of ice came the foe-- came the storm-breathing god of the winter. then roared in the groves, on the plains, on the ice-covered lakes and the river, the blasts of the fierce hurricanes blown abroad from the breast of _wazíya_. [ ] the bear cuddled down in his den, and the elk fled away to the forest; the pheasant and gray prairie-hen made their beds in the heart of the snow-drift; the bison herds huddled and stood in the hollows and under the hill-sides, or rooted the snow for their food in the lee of the bluffs and the timber; and the mad winds that howled from the north, from the ice-covered seas of _wazíya_, chased the gray wolf and silver-fox forth to their dens in the hills of the forest. poor father menard--he was ill; in his breast burned the fire of a fever; all in vain was the magical skill of _wicásta wakán_ [ ] with his rattle; into soft, child-like slumber he fell, and awoke in the land of the blessèd-- to the holy applause of "well-done!" and the harps in the hands of the angels. long he carried the cross and he won the coveted crown of a martyr. in the land of the heathen he died, meekly following the voice of his master, one mourner alone by his side-- ta-té-psin's compassionate daughter. she wailed the dead father with tears, and his bones by her kindred she buried. then winter followed winter. the years sprinkled frost on the head of her father; and three weary winters she dreamed of the fearless and fair, bearded frenchmen; at midnight their swift paddles gleamed on the breast of the broad mississippi, and the eyes of the brave strangers beamed on the maid in the midst of her slumber. she lacked not admirers; the light of the lover oft burned in her _teepee_-- at her couch in the midst of the night,-- but she never extinguished the flambeau. the son of chief wazi-kuté-- a fearless and eagle-plumed warrior-- long sighed for winona, and he was the pride of the band of _isántees_. three times, in the night at her bed, had the brave held the torch of the lover, [ ] and thrice had she covered her head and rejected the handsome tamdóka. [t] [t] tah-mdo-kah, literally, the buck-deer. 'twas summer. the merry-voiced birds trilled and warbled in woodland and meadow; and abroad on the prairies the herds cropped the grass in the land of the lilies,-- and sweet was the odor of rose wide-wafted from hillside and heather; in the leaf-shaded lap of repose lay the bright, blue-eyed babes of the summer; and low was the murmur of brooks, and low was the laugh of the _ha-ha_; [ ] and asleep in the eddies and nooks lay the broods of _magá_ [ ]and the mallard. 'twas the moon of _wasúnpa_. [ ] the band lay at rest in the tees at _ka-thá-ga_, and abroad o'er the beautiful land walked the spirits of peace and of plenty-- twin sisters, with bountiful hand wide scattering wild-rice and the lilies. _an-pé-tu-wee_[ ] walked in the west-- to his lodge in the far-away mountains, and the war-eagle flew to her nest in the oak on the isle of the spirit.[u] and now at the end of the day, by the shore of the beautiful island,[v] a score of fair maidens and gay made joy in the midst of the waters. half-robed in their dark, flowing hair, and limbed like the fair aphroditè, they played in the waters, and there they dived and they swam like the beavers, loud-laughing like loons on the lake when the moon is a round shield of silver, and the songs of the whippowils wake on the shore in the midst of the maples. but hark!--on the river a song,-- strange voices commingled in chorus; on the current a boat swept along with duluth and his hardy companions; to the stroke of their paddles they sung, and this the refrain that they chanted: "dans mon chemin j'ai rencontré deux cavaliers bien montés. lon, lon, laridon daine, lon, lon, laridon da." "deux cavaliers bien montés; l'un à cheval, et l'autre à pied. lon, lon, laridon daine, lon, lon, laridon da."[w] [u] the dakotas say that for many years in olden times war-eagles made their nests in oak trees on spirit-island--_wanagi-wita_, just below the falls till frightened away by the advent of white men. [v] the dakotas called nicollet island _wi-ta waste_--the beautiful island. [w] a part of one of the favorite songs of the french _voyageurs_. [illustration: arrival of duluth at kathaga] like the red, dappled deer in the glade alarmed by the footsteps of hunters, discovered, disordered, dismayed, the nude nymphs fled forth from the waters, and scampered away to the shade, and peered from the screen of the lindens. a bold and adventuresome man was duluth, and a dauntless in danger, and straight to _kathága_ he ran, and boldly advanced to the warriors, now gathering, a cloud on the strand, and gazing amazed on the strangers; and straightway he offered his hand unto wázi-kuté, the _itáncan_.[x] to the lodge of the stranger were led duluth and his hardy companions; robes of beaver and bison were spread, and the peace-pipe[ ] was smoked with the frenchman. [x] head-chief there was dancing and feasting at night, and joy at the presents he lavished. all the maidens were wild with delight with the flaming red robes and the ribbons, with the beads and the trinkets untold, and the fair, bearded face of the giver; and glad were they all to behold the friends from the land of the sunrise. but one stood apart from the rest-- the queenly and silent winona, intently regarding the guest-- hardly heeding the robes and the ribbons, whom the white chief beholding admired, and straightway he spread on her shoulders a lily-red robe and attired with necklet and ribbons the maiden. the red lilies bloomed in her face, and her glad eyes gave thanks to the giver, and forth from her _teepee_ apace she brought him the robe and the missal of the father--poor rené menard; and related the tale of the "black robe." she spoke of the sacred regard he inspired in the hearts of dakotas; that she buried his bones with her kin, in the mound by the cave of the council; that she treasured and wrapt in the skin of the red-deer his robe and his prayer book-- "till his brothers should come from the east-- from the land of the far _hochelága_, to smoke with the braves at the feast, on the shores of the loud-laughing waters. [ ] for the 'black robe' spake much of his youth and his friends in the land of the sunrise; it was then as a dream; now in truth i behold them, and not in a vision." but more spake her blushes, i ween, and her eyes full of language unspoken, as she turned with the grace of a queen and carried her gifts to the _teepee_. far away from his beautiful france-- from his home in the city of lyons, a noble youth full of romance, with a norman heart big with adventure, in the new world a wanderer, by chance duluth sought the wild huron forests. but afar by the vale of the rhone, the winding and musical river, and the vine-covered hills of the saône, the heart of the wanderer lingered,-- 'mid the vineyards and mulberry trees, and the fair fields of corn and of clover that rippled and waved in the breeze, while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms. for there, where th' impetuous rhone, leaping down from the switzerland mountains, and the silver-lipped, soft-flowing saône, meeting, kiss and commingle together, down winding by vineyards and leas, by the orchards of fig-trees and olives, to the island-gemmed, sapphire-blue seas of the glorious greeks and the romans; aye, there, on the vine-covered shore, 'mid the mulberry-trees and the olives, dwelt his blue-eyed and beautiful flore, with her hair like a wheat-field at harvest, all rippled and tossed by the breeze, and her cheeks like the glow of the morning, far away o'er the emerald seas, as the sun lifts his brow from the billows, or the red-clover fields when the bees, singing sip the sweet cups of the blossoms. wherever he wandered-- alone in the heart of the wild huron forests, or cruising the rivers unknown to the land of the crees or dakotas-- his heart lingered still on the rhone, 'mid the mulberry trees and the vineyards, fast-fettered and bound by the zone that girdled the robes of his darling. till the red harvest moon[ ] he remained in the vale of the swift mississippi. the esteem of the warriors he gained, and the love of the dark-eyed winona. he joined in the sports and the chase; with the hunters he followed the bison, and swift were his feet in the race when the red elk they ran on the prairies. at the game of the plum-stones[ ] he played, and he won from the skillfulest players; a feast to _wa'tánka_[ ] he made, and he danced at the feast of _heyôka_.[ ] with the flash and the roar of his gun he astonished the fearless dakotas; they called it the "_máza wakán_"-- the mighty, mysterious metal. "'tis a brother," they said, "of the fire in the talons of dreadful wakinyan,'[ ] when he flaps his huge wings in his ire, and shoots his red shafts at _unktéhee_."[ ] the _itáncan_,[ ] tall wází-kuté, appointed a day for the races. from the red stake that stood by his _tee_, on the southerly side of the _ha-ha_, o'er the crest of the hills and the dunes and the billowy breadth of the prairie, to a stake at the lake of the loons[ ]-- a league and return--was the distance. they gathered from near and afar, to the races and dancing and feasting; five hundred tall warriors were there from _kapóza_[ ] and far-off _keóza_;[ ] _remnica_[y] too, furnished a share of the legions that thronged to the races, and a bountiful feast was prepared by the diligent hands of the women, and gaily the multitudes fared in the generous _tees_ of _kathága_. the chief of the mystical clan appointed a feast to _unktéhee_-- the mystic "_wacípee wakán_"[z]-- at the end of the day and the races. a band of sworn brothers are they, and the secrets of each one are sacred, and death to the lips that betray is the doom of the swarthy avengers, and the son of tall _wází-kuté_ was the chief of the mystical order. [y] pronounced ray-mne-chah--the village of the mountains, situate where red wing now stands. [z] sacred dance--the medicine-dance--see description _infra._ the foot races. on an arm of an oak hangs the prize for the swiftest and strongest of runners-- a blanket as red as the skies, when the flames sweep the plains in october. and beside it a strong, polished bow, and a quiver of iron-tipped arrows, which _kapóza's_ tall chief will bestow on the fleet-footed second that follows. a score of swift runners are there from the several bands of the nation, and now for the race they prepare, and among them fleet-footed tamdóka. with the oil of the buck and the bear their sinewy limbs are annointed, for fleet are the feet of the deer and strong are the limbs of the bruin. hark!--the shouts and the braying of drums, and the babel of tongues and confusion! from his _teepee_ the tall chieftain comes, and duluth brings a prize for the runners-- a keen hunting-knife from the seine, horn-handled and mounted with silver. the runners are ranged on the plain, and the chief waves a flag as a signal, and away like the gray wolves they fly-- like the wolves on the trail of the red-deer; o'er the hills and the prairie they vie, and strain their strong limbs to the utmost, while high on the hills hangs a cloud of warriors and maidens and mothers, to see the swift-runners, and loud are the cheers and the shouts of the warriors. now swift from the lake they return o'er the emerald hills of the prairies; like grey-hounds they pant and they yearn, and the leader of all is tamdóka. at his heels flies _hu-pá-hu,_[aa] the fleet--the pride of the band of _kaóza_,-- a warrior with eagle-winged feet, but his prize is the bow and the quiver. tamdóka first reaches the post, and his are the knife and the blanket, by the mighty acclaim of the host and award of the chief and the judges. then proud was the tall warrior's stride, and haughty his look and demeanor; he boasted aloud in his pride, and he scoffed at the rest of the runners. "behold me, for i am a man![ab] my feet are as swift as the west-wind. with the coons and the beavers i ran; but where is the elk or the _cabri?_[ ] come!--where is the hunter will dare match his feet with the feet of tamdóka? let him think of _taté_[ac] and beware, ere he stake his last robe on the trial." "_ohó! ho! hó-héca!_"[ad] they jeered, for they liked not the boast of the boaster; but to match him no warrior appeared, for his feet wore the wings of the west-wind. [aa] the wings. [ab] a favorite boast of the dakota braves. [ac] the wind. [ad] about equivalent to oho!--aha!--fudge! then forth from the side of the chief stepped duluth and he looked on the boaster; "the words of a warrior are brief,-- i will run with the brave," said the frenchman; "but the feet of tamdóka are tired; abide till the cool of the sunset." all the hunters and maidens admired, for strong were the limbs of the stranger. "_hiwó ho!_"[ae] they shouted and loud rose the cheers of the multitude mingled; and there in the midst of the crowd stood the glad-eyed and blushing winona. [ae] hurra there! now afar o'er the plains of the west walked the sun at the end of his journey, and forth came the brave and the guest, at the tap of the drum, for the trial. like a forest of larches the hordes were gathered to witness the contest; as loud as the drums were their words and they roared like the roar of the _ha-ha._ for some for tamdóka contend, and some for the fair, bearded stranger, and the betting runs high to the end, with the skins of the bison and beaver. a wife of tall _wází-kuté_-- the mother of boastful tamdóka-- brought her handsomest robe from the _tee_ with a vaunting and loud proclamation: she would stake her last robe on her son who, she boasted, was fleet as the _cabri_, and the tall, tawny chieftain looked on, approving the boast of the mother. then fleet as the feet of a fawn to her lodge ran the dark-eyed winona, she brought and she spread on the lawn, by the side of the robe of the boaster, the lily-red mantel duluth, with his own hands, had laid on her shoulders. "tamdóka is swift, but forsooth, the tongue of his mother is swifter," she said, and her face was aflame with the red of the rose and the lily, and loud was the roar of acclaim; but dark was the face of tamdóka. they strip for the race and prepare,-- duluth in his breeches and leggins; and the brown, curling locks of his hair down droop to his bare, brawny shoulders, and his face wears a smile debonair, as he tightens his red sash around him; but stripped to the moccasins bare, save the belt and the breech-clout of buckskin, stands the haughty tamdóka aware that the eyes of the warriors admire him; for his arms are the arms of a bear and his legs are the legs of a panther. the drum beats,--the chief waves the flag, and away on the course speed the runners, and away leads the brave like a stag,-- like a bound on his track flies the frenchman; and away haste the hunters once more to the hills, for a view to the lakeside, and the dark-swarming hill-tops, they roar with the storm of loud voices commingled. far away o'er the prairie they fly, and still in the lead is tamdóka, but the feet of his rival are nigh, and slowly he gains on the hunter. now they turn on the post at the lake,-- now they run full abreast on the home-stretch: side by side they contend for the stake for a long mile or more on the prairie they strain like a stag and a hound, when the swift river gleams through the thicket, and the horns of the riders resound, winding shrill through the depths of the forest. but behold!--at full length on the ground falls the fleet-footed frenchman abruptly, and away with a whoop and a bound springs the eager, exulting tamdóka long and loud on the hills is the shout of his swarthy admirers and backers, "but the race is not won till it's out," said duluth, to himself as he gathered, with a frown on his face, for the foot of the wily tamdóka had tripped him. far ahead ran the brave on the route, and turning he boasted exultant. like spurs to the steed to duluth were the jeers and the taunts of the boaster; indignant was he and red wroth at the trick of the runner dishonest; and away like a whirlwind he speeds-- like a hurricane mad from the mountains; he gains on tamdóka,--he leads!-- and behold, with the spring of a panther, he leaps to the goal and succeeds, 'mid the roar of the mad acclamation. then glad as the robin in may was the voice of winona exulting; tamdóka turned sullen away, and sulking he walked by the river; he glowered as he went and the fire of revenge in his bosom was kindled: dark was his visage with ire and his eyes were the eyes of a panther. the wakan-wacepee, or sacred dance. [ ] lo the lights in the _"teepee-wákan!"_ 'tis the night of the _wákan wacépee_. round and round walks the chief of the clan, as he rattles the sacred _ta-shá-kay_; [ ] long and loud on the _chán-che-ga_ [ ] beat the drummers with magical drumsticks, and the notes of the _chô-tánka_ [ ] greet like the murmur of winds on the waters. by the friction of white-cedar wood for the feast was a virgin-fire [ ] kindled. they that enter the firm brotherhood first must fast and be cleansed by _e-neé-pee_;[ ] and from foot-sole to crown of the head must they paint with the favorite colors; for _unktéhee_ likes bands of blood-red, with the stripings of blue intermingled. in the hollow earth, dark and profound, _unktéhee_ and fiery _wakínyan_ long fought, and the terrible sound of the battle was louder than thunder; the mountains were heaved and around were scattered the hills and the boulders, and the vast solid plains of the ground rose and fell like the waves of the ocean. but the god of the waters prevailed. _wakín-yan_ escaped from the cavern, and long on the mountains he wailed, and his hatred endureth forever. when _unktéhee_ had finished the earth, and the beasts and the birds and the fishes, and men at his bidding came forth from the heart of the huge hollow mountains,[ ] a band chose the god from the hordes, and he said: "ye are the sons of _unktéhee_: ye are lords of the beasts and the birds, and the fishes that swim in the waters. but hearken ye now to my words,-- let them sound in your bosoms forever: ye shall honor _unktéhee_ and hate _wakinyan_, the spirit of thunder, for the power of _unktéhee_ is great, and he laughs at the darts of _wakinyan_. ye shall honor the earth and the sun,-- for they are your father and mother; [ ] let your prayer to the sun be:-- _wakán até; on-si-md-da oheé-neé_."[af] and remember the _táku wakán_[ ] all-pervading in earth and in ether-- invisible ever to man, but he dwells in the midst of all matter; yea, he dwells in the heart of the stone-- in the hard granite heart of the boulder; ye shall call him forever _tunkán_-- grandfather of all the dakotas. ye are men that i choose for my own; ye shall be as a strong band of brothers, now i give you the magical bone and the magical pouch of the spirits,[ag] and these are the laws ye shall heed: ye shall honor the pouch and the giver. ye shall walk as twin-brothers; in need, one shall forfeit his life for another. listen not to the voice of the crow.[ah] hold as sacred the wife of a brother. strike, and fear not the shaft of the foe, for the soul of the brave is immortal. slay the warrior in battle, but spare the innocent babe and the mother. remember a promise,--beware,-- let the word of a warrior be sacred when a stranger arrives at the _tee_-- be he friend of the band or a foeman, give him food; let your bounty be free; lay a robe for the guest by the lodge-fire; let him go to his kindred in peace, if the peace-pipe he smoke in the _teepee_; and so shall your children increase, and your lodges shall laugh with abundance. and long shall ye live in the land, and the spirits of earth and the waters shall come to your aid, at command, with the power of invisible magic. and at last, when you journey afar-- o'er the shining "_wanágee ta-chán-ku_,"[ ] you shall walk as a red, shining star[ ] in the land of perpetual summer." [af] "sacred spirit! father! have pity on me always." [ag] riggs' takoo wakan, p. . [ah] slander. all the night in the _teepee_ they sang, and they danced to the mighty _unktéhee_, while the loud-braying _chán-che-ga_ rang and the shrill-piping flute and the rattle, till _anpétuwee_ [ ] rose in the east-- from the couch of the blushing _han-nân-na_, and thus at the dance and the feast sang the sons of _unktéhee_ in chorus: "wa-dú-ta o-hná mi-ká-ge! wa-dú-ta o-hná mi-ká-ge! mini-yâta ité wakândè makú, atè wakán--tunkánsidân. tunkânsidân pejihúta wakán micâgè--he wicâgè! miniyáta ité wakándè makú. taukánsidan ité, nápè dú-win-ta woo, wahutôpa wan yúha, nápè dú-win-ta woo." translation. in red swan-down he made it for me; in red swan-down he made it for me; he of the water--he of the mysterious face-- gave it to me; sacred father--grandfather! grandfather made me magical medicine. that is true! being of mystery,--grown in the water-- he gave it to me! to the face of our grandfather stretch out your hand; holding a quadruped, stretch out your hand! till high o'er the hills of the east _anpétuwee_ walked on his journey, in secret they danced at the feast, and communed with the mighty _unktéhee_. then opened the door of the _tee_ to the eyes of the wondering dakotas, and the sons of _unktéhee_ to be, were endowed with the sacred _ozúha_[ ] by the son of tall wazí-kuté, tamdóka, the chief of the magi. and thus since the birth-day of man-- since he sprang from the heart of the mountains,[ ] has the sacred "_wacépee wakán_" by the warlike dakotas been honored, and the god-favored sons of the clan work their will with the help of the spirits. winona's warning. 'twas sunrise; the spirits of mist trailed their white robes on dewy savannas, and the flowers raised their heads to be kissed by the first golden beams of the morning. the breeze was abroad with the breath of the rose of the isles of the summer, and the humming-bird hummed on the heath from his home in the land of the rainbow.[ai] 'twas the morn of departure. duluth stood alone by the roar of the _ha-ha_; tall and fair in the strength of his youth stood the blue-eyed and fair-bearded frenchman. a rustle of robes on the grass broke his dream as he mused by the waters, and, turning, he looked on the face of winona, wild-rose of the prairies, half hid in her dark, flowing hair, like the round, golden moon in the pine-tops. admiring he gazed--she was fair as his own blooming flore in her orchards, with her golden locks loose on the air, like the gleam of the sun through the olives, far away on the vine-covered shore, in the sun-favored land of his fathers. "lists the chief to the cataract's roar for the mournful lament of the spirit?"[aj] said winona,--"the wail of the sprite for her babe and its father unfaithful, is heard in the midst of the night, when the moon wanders dim in the heavens." "wild-rose of the prairies," he said, "duluth listens not to the _ha-ha_, for the wail of the ghost of the dead for her babe and its father unfaithful; but he lists to a voice in his heart that is heard by the ear of no other, and to-day will the white chief depart; he returns to the land of the sunrise." "let winona depart with the chief,-- she will kindle the fire in his _teepee_; for long are the days of her grief, if she stay in the _tee_ of ta-té-psin," she replied, and her cheeks were aflame with the bloom of the wild prairie lilies. "_tanke_[ak], is the white chief to blame?" said duluth to the blushing winona. "the white chief is blameless," she said, "but the heart of winona will follow wherever thy footsteps may lead, o blue-eyed, brave chief of the white men. for her mother sleeps long in the mound, and a step-mother rules in the _teepee_, and her father, once strong and renowned, is bent with the weight of his winters. no longer he handles the spear,-- no longer his swift, humming arrows overtake the fleet feet of the deer, or the bear of the woods, or the bison; but he bends as he walks, and the wind shakes his white hair and hinders his footsteps; and soon will he leave me behind, without brother or sister or kindred. the doe scents the wolf in the wind, and a wolf walks the path of winona. three times have the gifts for the bride[ ] to the lodge of ta-té-psin been carried, but the voice of winona replied that she liked not the haughty tamdóka. and thrice were the gifts sent away, but the tongue of the mother protested, and the were-wolf[ ] still follows his prey, and abides but the death of my father." [ai] the dakotas say the humming-bird comes from the "land of the rain-bow." [aj] see legend of the falls, or note --appendix. [ak] my sister. "i pity winona," he said, "but my path is a pathway of danger, and long is the trail for the maid to the far-away land of the sunrise; and few are the braves of my band, and the braves of tamdóka are many; but soon i return to the land, and a cloud of my hunters will follow. when the cold winds of winter return and toss the white robes of the prairies, the fire of the white chief will burn in his lodge at the meeting-of-waters;[al] and when from the sunrise again comes the chief of the sons of the morning, many moons will his hunters remain in the land of the friendly dakotas. the son of chief wází-kuté guides the white chief afar on his journey; nor long on the _tânka medé_[am]-- on the breast of the blue, bounding billows-- shall the bark of the frenchman delay, but his pathway shall kindle behind him." [al] mendota--properly mdo-te--meaning the out-let of a lake or river into another, commonly applied to the region about fort snelling. [am] _tanka-mede_--great lake, i.e. lake superior. the dakotas seem to have had no other name for it. they generally referred to it as _mini-ya-ta--there at the water_. she was pale, and her hurried voice swelled with alarm as she questioned replying-- "tamdóka thy guide?--i beheld thy death in his face at the races. he covers his heart with a smile, but revenge never sleeps in his bosom; his tongue--it is soft to beguile; but beware of the pur of the panther! for death, like a shadow, will walk by thy side in the midst of the forest, or follow thy path like a hawk on the trail of a wounded _mastínca_.[an] a son of _unktéhee_ is he,-- the chief of the crafty magicians; they have plotted thy death; i can see thy trail--it is red in the forest; beware of tamdóka,--beware. slumber not like the grouse of the woodlands, with head under wing, for the glare of the eyes that sleep not are upon thee." [an] the rabbit. the dakotas called the crees "mastincapi"--rabbits. "winona, fear not," said duluth, "for i carry the fire of _wakínyan_[ao] and strong is the arm of my youth, and stout are the hearts of my warriors; but winona has spoken the truth, and the heart of the white chief is thankful. hide this in thy bosom, dear maid,-- 'tis the crucified christ of the white men.[ap] lift thy voice to his spirit in need, and his spirit will hear thee and answer; for often he comes to my aid; he is stronger than all the dakotas; and the spirits of evil, afraid, hide away when he looks from the heavens." in her swelling, brown bosom she hid the crucified jesus in silver; "_niwástè_,"[aq] she sadly replied; in her low voice the rising tears trembled; her dewy eyes turned she aside, and she slowly returned to the _teepees_. but still on the swift river's strand, admiring the graceful winona, as she gathered, with brown, dimpled hand, her hair from the wind, stood the frenchman. duluth's departure to bid the brave white chief adieu, on the shady shore gathered the warriors; his glad boatmen manned the canoe, and the oars in their hands were impatient. spake the chief of _isántees_: "a feast will await the return of my brother. in peace rose the sun in the east, in peace in the west he descended. may the feet of my brother be swift till they bring him again to our _teepees_, the red pipe he takes as a gift, may he smoke that red pipe many winters. at my lodge-fire his pipe shall be lit, when the white chief returns to _kathága_; on the robes of my _tee_ shall he sit; he shall smoke with the chiefs of my people. the brave love the brave, and his son sends the chief as a guide for his brother, by the way of the _wákpa wakán_[ar] to the chief at the lake of the spirits. as light as the foot-steps of dawn are the feet of the stealthy tamdóka; he fears not the _máza wakán_;[as] he is sly as the fox of the forest. when he dances the dance of red war howl the wolves by the broad _mini-ya-ta_,[at] for they scent on the south-wind afar their feast on the bones of ojibways." thrice the chief puffed the red pipe of peace, ere it passed to the lips of the frenchman. spake duluth: "may the great spirit bless with abundance the chief and his people; may their sons and their daughters increase, and the fire ever burn in their _teepees_." then he waved with a flag his adieu to the chief and the warriors assembled; and away shot tamdóka's canoe to the strokes of ten sinewy hunters; and a white path he clove up the blue, bubbling stream of the swift mississippi; and away on his foaming trail flew, like a sea-gull, the bark of the frenchman. [ao] i.e. fire-arms which the dakotas compare to the roar of the wings of the thunder-bird and the fierey arrows he shoots. [ap] duluth was a devout catholic. [aq] _nee-wah-shtay_--thou art good. [ar] spirit-river, now called rum river. [as] fire-arm--spirit-metal. [at] lake superior--at that time the home of the ojibways (chippewas). [illustration: two hundred white winters and more have fled from the face of the summer ... * * * * * ah, little he dreamed then, forsooth, that a city would stand on that hill side] then merrily rose the blithe song of the _voyageurs_ homeward returning, and thus, as they glided along, sang the bugle-voiced boatmen in chorus: song. home again! home again! bend to the oar! merry is the life of the gay _voyageur._ he rides on the river with his paddle in his hand, and his boat is his shelter on the water and the land. the clam has his shell and the water-turtle too, but the brave boatman's shell is his birch-bark canoe. so pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar; merry is the life of the gay _voyageur._ home again! home again! bend to the oar! merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_, his couch is as downy as a couch can be, for he sleeps on the feathers of the green fir-tree. he dines on the fat of the pemmican-sack, and his _eau de vie_ is the _eau de lac_. so pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar; merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. home again! home again! bend to the oar! merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. the brave, jolly boatman,--he never is afraid when he meets at the portage a red, forest maid, a huron, or a cree, or a blooming chippeway; and he marks his trail with the _bois brulés_[au] so pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar; merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. home again! home again! bend to the oar! merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. in the reeds of the meadow the stag lifts his branchy head stately and listens, and the bobolink, perched on the flag, her ear sidelong bends to the chorus. from the brow of the beautiful isle,[av] half hid in the midst of the maples, the sad-faced winona, the while, watched the boat growing less in the distance, till away in the bend of the stream, where it turned and was lost in the lindens, she saw the last dip and the gleam of the oars ere they vanished forever. [au] "burnt woods"--half-breeds. [av] _wita waste_--"beautiful island"; the dakota name for nicollet island. still afar on the waters the song, like bridal bells distantly chiming, the stout, jolly boatmen prolong, beating time with the stroke of their paddles; and winona's ear, turned to the breeze, lists the air falling fainter and fainter, till it dies like the murmur of bees when the sun is aslant on the meadows. blow, breezes,--blow softly and sing in the dark, flowing hair of the maiden; but never again shall you bring the voice that she loves to winona. the canoe race. now a light rustling wind from the south shakes his wings o'er the wide, wimpling waters: up the dark-winding river duluth follows fast in the wake of tamdóka. on the slopes of the emerald shores leafy woodlands and prairies alternate; on the vine-tangled islands the flowers peep timidly out at the white men; in the dark-winding eddy the loon sits warily watching and voiceless, and the wild-goose, in reedy lagoon, stills the prattle and play of her children. the does and their sleek, dappled fawns prick their ears and peer out from the thickets, and the bison-calves play on the lawns, and gambol like colts in the clover. up the still-flowing _wákpa wakán's_ winding path through the groves and the meadows, now duluth's brawny boatmen pursue the swift-gliding bark of tamdóka; and hardly the red braves out-do the stout, steady oars of the white men. now they bend to their oars in the race-- the ten tawny braves of tamdóka; and hard on their heels in the chase ply the six stalwart oars of the frenchmen. in the stern of his boat sits duluth; in the stern of his boat sits tamdóka, and warily, cheerily, both urge the oars of their men to the utmost. far-stretching away to the eyes, winding blue in the midst of the meadows, as a necklet of sapphires that lies unclaspt in the lap of a virgin, here asleep in the lap of the plain lies the reed-bordered, beautiful river. like two flying coursers that strain, on the track, neck and neck on the home-stretch, with nostrils distended and mane froth-flecked, and the neck and the shoulders, each urged to his best by the cry and the whip and the rein of his rider, now they skim o'er the waters and fly, side by side, neck and neck, through the meadows, the blue heron flaps from the reeds, and away wings her course up the river: straight and swift is her flight o'er the meads, but she hardly outstrips the canoemen. see! the _voyageurs_ bend to their oars till the blue veins swell out on their foreheads; and the sweat from their brawny breasts pours; but in vain their herculean labor; for the oars of tamdóka are ten, and but six are the oars of the frenchman, and the red warriors' burden of men is matched by the _voyageurs'_ luggage. side by side, neck and neck, for a mile, still they strain their strong arms to the utmost, till rounding a willowy isle, now ahead creeps the boat of tamdóka, and the neighboring forests profound, and the far-stretching plain of the meadows to the whoop of the victors resound, while the panting french rest on their paddles. in camp. with sable wings wide o'er the land night sprinkles the dew of the heavens; and hard by the dark river's strand, in the midst of a tall, somber forest, two camp fires are lighted and beam on the trunks and the arms of the pine trees. in the fitful light darkle and gleam the swarthy-hued faces around them. and one is the camp of duluth, and the other the camp of tamdóka. but few are the jests and uncouth of the voyageurs over their supper, while moody and silent the braves round their fire in a circle sit crouching; and low is the whisper of leaves and the sough of the wind in the branches; and low is the long-winding howl of the lone wolf afar in the forest; but shrill is the hoot of the owl, like a bugle-blast blown in the pine-tops, and the half-startled _voyageurs_ scowl at the sudden and saucy intruder. like the eyes of the wolves are the eyes of the watchful and silent dakotas; like the face of the moon in the skies, when the clouds chase each other across it, is tamdóka's dark face in the light of the flickering flames of the camp-fire. they have plotted red murder by night, and securely contemplate their victims. but wary and armed to the teeth are the resolute frenchmen, and ready, if need be, to grapple with death, and to die hand to hand in the forest. yet skilled in the arts and the wiles of the cunning and crafty _algonkins_[aw] they cover their hearts with their smiles, and hide their suspicions of evil. round their low, smouldering fire, feigning sleep, lie the watchful and wily dakotas; but duluth and his _voyageurs_ heap their fire that shall blaze till the morning, ere they lay themselves snugly to rest, with their guns by their sides on the blankets, as if there were none to molest but the gray, skulking wolves of the forest. [aw] ojibways. 'tis midnight. the rising moon gleams, weird and still, o'er the dusky horizon; through the hushed, somber forest she beams, and fitfully gloams on the meadows; and a dim, glimmering pathway she paves, at times, on the dark stretch of river. the winds are asleep in the caves-- in the heart of the far-away mountains; and here on the meadows and there, the lazy mists gather and hover; and the lights of the fen-spirits[ ] flare and dance on the low-lying marshes, as still as the footsteps of death by the bed of the babe and its mother; and hushed are the pines, and beneath lie the weary-limbed boatmen in slumber. walk softly,--walk softly, o moon, through the gray, broken clouds in thy pathway, for the earth lies asleep and the boon of repose is bestowed on the weary. toiling hands have forgotten their care; e'en the brooks have forgotten to murmur; but hark!--there's a sound on the air!-- 'tis the light-rustling robes of the spirits, like the breath of the night in the leaves or the murmur of reeds on the river, in the cool of the mid-summer eyes, when the blaze of the day has descended. low-crouching and shadowy forms, as still as the gray morning's footsteps, creep sly as the serpent that charms, on her nest in the meadow, the plover; in the shadows of pine-trunks they creep, but their panther-eyes gleam in the fire-light, as they peer on the white-men asleep, in the glow of the fire, on their blankets. lo in each swarthy right-hand a knife; in the left-hand, the bow and the arrows! brave frenchmen, awake to the strife!-- or you sleep in the forest forever. nay, nearer and nearer they glide, like ghosts on the field of their battles, till close on the sleepers, they bide but the signal of death from tamdóka. still the sleepers sleep on. not a breath stirs the leaves of the awe-stricken forest; the hushed air is heavy with death; like the footsteps of death are the moments. "_arise!_"--at the word, with a bound, to their feet spring the vigilant frenchmen; and the depths of the forest resound to the crack and the roar of their rifles; and seven writhing forms on the ground clutch the earth. from the pine-tops the screech-owl screams and flaps his wide wings in affright, and plunges away through the shadows; and swift on the wings of the night flee the dim, phantom-forms through the darkness. like _cabris_[ ] when white wolves pursue, fled the four yet remaining dakotas; through forest and fen-land they flew, and wild terror howled on their footsteps. and one was tamdóka. duluth through the night sent his voice like a trumpet: "ye are _sons of unktéhee_, forsooth! return to your mothers, ye cowards!" his shrill voice they heard as they fled, but only the echoes made answer. at the feet of the brave frenchmen, dead, lay seven swarthy _sons of whitehead_; and there, in the midst of the slain, they found, as it gleamed in the fire-light, the horn-handled knife from the seine, where it fell from the hand of tamdóka. [illustration: nearer and nearer they glide like ghosts on the fields of their battles. till close on the sleepers, they bide for the signal of death from tamdoka] in the gray of the morn, ere the sun peeped over the dewy horizon, their journey again was begun, and they toiled up the swift, winding river; and many a shallow they passed on their way to the lake of the spirits;[ax] but dauntless they reached it at last, and found akee-pá-kee-tin's[ay] village, on an isle in the midst of the lake; and a day in his teepees they tarried. of the deed in the wilderness spake, to the brave chief, the frank-hearted frenchman. a generous man was the chief, and a friend of the fearless explorer; and dark was his visage with grief at the treacherous act of the warriors. "brave wází-kuté is a man, and his heart is as clear as the sunlight; but the head of a treacherous clan and a snake-in-the-grass, is tamdóka," said the chief; and he promised duluth, on the word of a friend and a warrior, to carry the pipe and the truth to his cousin, the chief at kathága; for thrice at the _tânka medé_ he smoked in the lodge of the frenchman; and thrice had he carried away the bountiful gifts of the trader. [ax] mille lacs [ay] see hennepin's account of "aqui-pa-que-tin," and his village. shea's hennepin, . when the chief could no longer prevail on the white men to rest in his _teepees_, he guided their feet on the trail to the lakes of the winding rice-river.[az] now on speeds the light bark canoe, through the lakes to the broad _gitchee seebee_;[ba] and up the great river they row,-- up the big sandy lake and savanna; and down through the meadows they go to the river of blue _gitchee-gumee_.[bb] still onward they speed to the dalles-- to the roar of the white-rolling rapids, where the dark river tumbles and falls down the ragged ravine of the mountains. and singing his wild jubilee to the low-moaning pines and the cedars, rushes on to the unsalted sea o'er the ledges upheaved by volcanoes. their luggage the _voyageurs_ bore down the long, winding path of the portage,[bc] while they mingled their song with the roar of the turbid and turbulent waters. down-wimpling and murmuring there 'twixt two dewy hills winds a streamlet, like a long, flaxen ringlet of hair on the breast of a maid in her slumber. all safe at the foot of the trail, where they left it, they found their felucca, and soon to the wind spread the sail, and glided at ease through the waters,-- through the meadows and lakelets and forth, round the point stretching south like a finger, from the pine-plumed hills on the north, sloping down to the bay and the lake-side and behold, at the foot of the hill, a cluster of chippewa wigwams, and the busy wives plying with skill their nets in the emerald waters. two hundred white winters and more have fled from the face of the summer since duluth on that wild, somber shore, in the unbroken forest primeval, from the midst of the spruce and the pines, saw the smoke of the wigwams up-curling, like the fumes from the temples and shrines of the druids of old in their forests. ah, little he dreamed then, forsooth, that a city would stand on that hill-side, and bear the proud name of duluth, the untiring and dauntless explorer,-- a refuge for ships from the storms, and for men from the bee-hives of europe, out-stretching her long, iron arms o'er an empire of saxons and normans. [az] now called "mud river"--it empties into the mississippi at aitkin. [ba] _gitchee see-bee_--big river--is the ojibway name for the mississippi, which is a corruption of gitchee seebee--as michigan is a corruption of _gitchee gumee_--great lake, the ojibway name of lake superior. [bb] the ojibways called the st. louis river _gitchee-gumee see-bee_--_great-lake river_, i.e. the river of the great lake (lake superior). [bc] the route of duluth above described--from the mouth of the wild-rice (mud) river, to lake superior--was for centuries, and still is, the indians' canoe-route. i have walked over the old portage from the foot of the dalles to the st. louis above--trod by the feet of half-breeds and _voyageurs_ for more than two centuries, and by the indians for perhaps a thousand years. the swift west-wind sang in the sails, and on flew the boat like a sea-gull, by the green, templed hills and the dales, and the dark, rugged rocks of the north shore; for the course of the brave frenchman lay to his fort at the _gáh-mah-na-ték-wáhk,_[ ] by the shore of the grand thunder bay, where the gray rocks loom up into mountains; where the stone giant sleeps on the cape, and the god of the storms makes the thunder,[ ] and the _makinak_[ ] lifts his huge shape from the breast of the blue-rolling waters. and thence to the south-westward led his course to the holy ghost mission,[ ] where the black robes, the brave shepherds, fed their wild sheep on the isle _wauga-bá-mè_,[ ] in the enchanting _cha-quám-e-gon_ bay defended by all the apostles,[bd] and thence, by the ké-we-naw, lay his course to the mission sainte marie,[be] now the waves clap their myriad hands, and streams the white hair of the surges; duluth at the steady helm stands, and he hums as he bounds o'er the billows: o sweet is the carol of bird, and sweet is the murmur of streams, but sweeter the voice that i heard-- in the night--in the midst of my dreams. [bd] the apostle islands. [be] at the sault ste. marie. winona and ta-te-psin. 'tis the moon of the sere, falling leaves. from the heads of the maples the west-wind plucks the red-and-gold plumage and grieves on the meads for the rose and the lily; their brown leaves the moaning oaks strew, and the breezes that roam on the prairies, low-whistling and wanton pursue the down of the silk-weed and thistle. all sere are the prairies and brown in the glimmer and haze of the autumn; from the far northern marshes flock down, by thousands, the geese and the mallards. from the meadows and wide-prairied plains, for their long southward journey preparing. in croaking flocks gather the cranes, and choose with loud clamor their leaders. the breath of the evening is cold, and lurid along the horizon the flames of the prairies are rolled, on the somber skies flashing their torches. at noontide a shimmer of gold through the haze pours the sun from his pathway. the wild-rice is gathered and ripe, von the moors, lie the scarlet _po-pan-ka_,[bf] _michábo_[ ] is smoking his pipe,-- 'tis the soft, dreamy indian summer, when the god of the south[ ] as he flies from _wazíya_, the god of the winter, for a time turns his beautiful eyes, and backward looks over his shoulder. [bf] cranberries. it is noon. from his path in the skies the red sun looks down on _kathága_. asleep in the valley it lies, for the swift hunters follow the bison. ta-té-psin, the aged brave, bends as he walks by the side of winona; her arm to his left hand she lends, and he feels with his staff for the pathway; on his slow, feeble footsteps attends his gray dog, the watchful wicháka; [a] for blind in his years is the chief of a fever that followed the summer, and the days of ta-té-psin are brief. once more by the dark-rolling river sits the chief in the warm, dreamy haze of the beautiful summer in autumn; and the faithful dog lovingly lays his head at the feet of his master. on a dead, withered branch sits a crow, down-peering askance at the old man; on the marge of the river below romp the nut-brown and merry-voiced children, and the dark waters silently flow, broad and deep, to the plunge of the ha-ha. [a] wee-chah kah--literally "faithful". by his side sat winona. he laid his thin, shriveled hand on her tresses, "winona my daughter," he said, "no longer thy father beholds thee; but he feels the long locks of thy hair, and the days that are gone are remembered, when sisóka [bg] sat faithful and fair in the lodge of swift footed ta-té-psin. the white years have broken my spear; from my bow they have taken the bow-string; but once on the trail of the deer, like a gray wolf from sunrise till sunset, by woodland and meadow and mere, ran the feet of ta-té-psin untiring. but dim are the days that are gone, and darkly around me they wander, like the pale, misty face of the moon when she walks through the storm of the winter; and sadly they speak in my ear. i have looked on the graves of my kindred. the land of the spirits is near. death walks by my side like a shadow. now open thine ear to my voice, and thy heart to the wish of thy father, and long will winona rejoice that she heeded the words of ta-té-psin. the cold, cruel winter is near, and famine will sit in the teepee. what hunter will bring me the deer, or the flesh of the bear or the bison? for my kinsmen before me have gone; they hunt in the land of the shadows. in my old age forsaken, alone, must i die in my teepee of hunger? winona, tamdóka can make my empty lodge laugh with abundance; for thine aged and blind father's sake, to the son of the chief speak the promise. for gladly again to my tee will the bridal gifts come for my daughter. a fleet-footed hunter is he, and the good spirits feather his arrows; and the cold, cruel winter will be a feast-time instead of a famine." [bg] the robin--the name of winona's mother. "my father," she said, and her voice was filial and full of compassion, "would the heart of ta-té-psin rejoice at the death of winona, his daughter? the crafty tamdóka i hate. must i die in his _teepee_ of sorrow? for i love the white chief and i wait his return to the land of dakotas. when the cold winds of winter return, and toss the white robes of the prairies, the fire of the white chief will burn in his lodge at the meeting-of-waters. winona's heart followed his feet far away to the land of the morning, and she hears in her slumber his sweet, kindly voice call the name of thy daughter. my father, abide, i entreat, the return of the brave to _katáhga_. the wild-rice is gathered, the meat of the bison is stored in the _teepee_; till the coon-moon[ ] enough and to spare; and if then the white warrior return not, winona will follow the bear and the coon to their dens in the forest. she is strong; she can handle the spear; she can bend the stout bow of the hunter; and swift on the trail of the deer will she run o'er the snow on her snow-shoes. let the step-mother sit in the tee, and kindle the fire for my father; and the cold, cruel winter shall be a feast-time instead of a famine." "the white chief will never return," half angrily muttered ta-té-psin; "his camp-fire will nevermore burn in the land of the warriors he slaughtered. i grieve, for my daughter has said that she loves the false friend of her kindred; for the hands of the white chief are red with the blood of the trustful dakotas." then warmly winona replied, "tamdóka himself is the traitor, and the brave-hearted stranger had died by his treacherous hand in the forest, but thy daughter's voice bade him beware of the sly death that followed his footsteps. the words of tamdóka are fair, but his heart is the den of the serpents. when the braves told their tale like a bird sang the heart of winona rejoicing, but gladlier still had she heard of the death of the crafty tamdóka. the chief will return; he is bold, and he carries the fire of wakínyan: to our people the truth will be told, and tamdóka will hide like a coward." his thin locks the aged brave shook; to himself half inaudibly muttered; to winona no answer he spoke,--only moaned he "_micúnksee! micúnksee_![bh] in my old age forsaken and blind! _yun-hé-hé! micúnksee! micúnksee_!"[bi] and wicháka, the pitying dog, whined as he looked on the face of his master. [bh] my daughter; my daughter. [bi] alas, o my daughter,--my daughter! famine. _wazíya_ came down from the north-- from the land of perpetual winter. from his frost-covered beard issued forth the sharp-biting, shrill-whistling north-wind; at the touch of his breath the wide earth turned to stone, and the lakes and the rivers: from his nostrils the white vapors rose, and they covered the sky like a blanket. like the down of _magá_[bj] fell the snows, tossed and whirled into heaps by the north-wind. then the blinding storms roared on the plains, like the simoons on sandy sahara; from the fangs of the fierce hurricanes fled the elk and the deer and the bison. ever colder and colder it grew, till the frozen ground cracked and split open; and harder and harder it blew, till the hillocks were bare as the boulders. to the southward the buffalos fled, and the white rabbits hid in their burrows; on the bare sacred mounds of the dead howled the gaunt, hungry wolves in the night-time, the strong hunters crouched in their _tees_; by the lodge-fires the little ones shivered; and the magic-men[bk] danced to appease, in their _teepee_, the wrath of _wazíya_; but famine and fatal disease, like phantoms, crept into the village. the hard moon[bl] was past, but the moon when the coons make their trails in the forest[bm] grew colder and colder. the coon, or the bear, ventured not from his cover; for the cold, cruel arctic simoon swept the earth like the breath of a furnace. in the _tee_ of ta-té-psin the store of wild-rice and dried meat was exhausted; and famine crept in at the door, and sat crouching and gaunt by the lodge-fire. but now with the saddle of deer and the gifts came the crafty tamdóka; and he said, "lo i bring you good cheer, for i love the blind chief and his daughter. take the gifts of tamdóka, for dear to his heart is the dark-eyed winona." the aged chief opened his ears; in his heart he already consented: but the moans of his child and her tears touched the age-softened heart of the father, and he said, "i am burdened with years,-- i am bent by the snows of my winters; ta-té-psin will die in his _tee_; let him pass to the land of the spirits; but winona is young; she is free and her own heart shall choose her a husband." the dark warrior strode from the _tee_; low-muttering and grim he departed; "let him die in his lodge," muttered he, "but winona shall kindle my lodge-fire." then forth went winona. the bow of ta-té-psin she took and his arrows, and afar o'er the deep, drifted snow through the forest she sped on her snow shoes. over meadow and ice-covered mere, through the thickets of red-oak and hazel, she followed the tracks of the deer, but like phantoms they fled from her vision. from sunrise to sunset she sped; half famished she camped in the thicket; in the cold snow she made her lone bed; on the buds of the birch[bn] made her supper. to the dim moon the gray owl preferred, from the tree-top, his shrill lamentation, and around her at midnight she heard the dread famine-cries of the gray wolves. in the gloam of the morning again on the trail of the red-deer she followed-- all day long through the thickets in vain, for the gray wolves were chasing the roebucks; and the cold, hungry winds from the plain chased the wolves and the deer and winona. [bj] wild-goose [bk] medicine-men. [bl] january. [bm] february. [bn] the pheasant feeds on birch-buds in winter. indians eat them when very hungry. in the twilight of sundown she sat in the forest, all weak and despairing; ta-té-psin's bow lay at her feet, and his otter-skin quiver of arrows "he promised,--he promised," she said,-- half-dreamily uttered and mournful,-- "and why comes he not? is he dead? was he slain by the crafty tamdóka? must winona, alas, make her choice-- make her choice between death and tamdóka? she will die, but her soul will rejoice in the far summer-land of the spirits. hark! i hear his low, musical voice! he is coming! my white chief is coming! ah, no, i am half in a dream!-- 'twas the memory of days long departed; but the birds of the green summer seem to be singing above in the branches." then forth from her bosom she drew the crucified jesus in silver. in her dark hair the cold north-wind blew, as meekly she bent o'er the image. "o christ of the whiteman," she prayed, "lead the feet of my brave to kathága; send a good spirit down to my aid, or the friend of the white chief will perish." then a smile on her wan features played, and she lifted her pale face and chanted "e-ye-he-ktá! e-ye-he-ktá! hé-kta-cè; é-ye-ce-quón. mí-wamdee-ská, he-he-ktá, he-kta-cè, é-ye-ce-quón, mí-wamdee-ská." [translaton] he will come; he will come; he will come, for he promised. my white eagle, he will come; he will come, for he promised---- my white eagle. thus sadly she chanted, and lo-- allured by her sorrowful accents-- from the dark covert crept a red roe and wonderingly gazed on winona. then swift caught the huntress her bow; from her trembling hand hummed the keen arrow. up-leaped the red roebuck and fled, but the white snow was sprinkled with scarlet, and he fell in the oak thicket dead. on the trail ran the eager winona. half-famished the raw flesh she ate. to the hungry maid sweet was her supper then swift through the night ran her feet, and she trailed the sleek roebuck behind her; and the guide of her steps was a star-- the cold-glinting star of _wazíya_[bo]-- over meadow and hilltop afar, on the way to the lodge of her father. but hark! on the keen frosty air wind the shrill hunger-howls of the gray-wolves! and nearer,--still nearer!--the blood of the deer have they scented and follow; through the thicket, the meadow, the wood, dash the pack on the trail of winona. swift she speeds with her burden, but swift on her track fly the minions of famine; now they yell on the view from the drift, in the reeds at the marge of the meadow; red gleam their wild, ravenous eyes, for they see on the hill-side their supper; the dark forest echoes their cries, but her heart is the heart of a warrior. from its sheath snatched winona her knife, and a leg from the roebuck she severed; with the carcass she ran for her life,-- to a low-branching oak ran the maiden; round the deer's neck her head-strap[bp] was tied; swiftly she sprang to the arms of the oak-tree; quick her burden she drew to her side, and higher she clomb on the branches, while the maddened wolves battled and bled, dealing death o'er the leg to each other; their keen fangs devouring the dead,-- yea, devouring the flesh of the living, they raved and they gnashed and they growled, like the fiends in the regions infernal; the wide night re-echoing howled, and the hoarse north-wind laughed o'er the slaughter. but their ravenous maws unappeased by the blood and the flesh of their fellows, to the cold wind their muzzles they raised, and the trail to the oak-tree they followed. round and round it they howled for the prey, madly leaping and snarling and snapping; but the brave maiden's keen arrows slay, till the dead number more than the living. all the long, dreary night-time, at bay, in the oak sat the shivering winona; but the sun gleamed at last, and away skulked the gray cowards[bq] down through the forest. then down dropped the deer and the maid. ere the sun reached the midst of his journey, her red, welcome burden she laid at the feet of her famishing father. _wazíya's_ wild wrath was appeased, and homeward he turned to his _teepee_,[ ] o'er the plains and the forest-land breezed from the islands of summer the south-wind. from their dens came the coon and the bear; o'er the snow through the woodlands they wandered; on her snow-shoes with stout bow and spear on their trails ran the huntress winona. the coon to his den in the tree, and the bear to his burrow she followed; a brave, skillful hunter was she, and ta-té-psin's lodge laughed with abundance. [bo] _wazíya's_ star is the north-star. [illustration] [bp] a strap used in carrying burdens. [bq] wolves sometimes attack people at night, but rarely, if ever, in the day time. if they have followed a hunter all night, and "treed" him, they will skulk away as soon as the sun rises. death of ta-te-psin. the long winter wanes. on the wings of the spring come the geese and the mallards; on the bare oak the red-robin sings, and the crocus peeps up on the prairies, and the bobolink pipes, but he brings of the blue-eyed, brave white chief no tidings. with the waning of winter, alas, waned the life of the aged ta-té-psin; ere the wild pansies peeped from the grass, to the land of the spirits he journeyed; like a babe in its slumber he passed, or the snow from the hill-tops of april; and the dark-eyed winona, at last, stood alone by the graves of her kindred. when their myriad mouths opened the trees to the sweet dew of heaven and the raindrops, and the april showers fell on the leas, on his mound fell the tears of winona. round her drooping form gathered the years and the spirits unseen of her kindred, as low, in the midst of her tears, at the grave of her father she chanted e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah-ké-yày! e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah-ké-yày! e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah-ké-yày! ma-kàh kin háy-chay-dan táy-han wan-kày. tú-way ne ktáy snee e-yáy-chen e-wáh chày. e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah-ké-yày! e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah-ké-yày! ma-kàh kin háy-chay-dan táy-han wan-kày. [translation]. sore is my sorrow! sore is my sorrow! sore is my sorrow! the earth alone lasts. i speak as one dying; sore is my sorrow! sore is my sorrow! the earth alone lasts. still hope, like a star in the night gleaming oft through the broken clouds somber, cheered the heart of winona, and bright on her dreams beamed the face of the frenchman. as the thought of a loved one and lost, sad and sweet were her thoughts of the white chief; in the moon's mellow light, like a ghost, walked winona alone by the _ha-ha_, ever wrapped in a dream. far away-- to the land of the sunrise--she wandered; on the blue-rolling _tánka-medé_[br] in the midst of her dreams, she beheld him-- in his white-winged canoe, like a bird, to the land of dakotas returning, [br] lake superior,--the gitchee gumee of the chippewas. and often in fancy she heard the dip of his oars on the river. on the dark waters glimmered the moon, but she saw not the boat of the frenchman. on the somber night bugled the loon, but she heard not the song of the boatmen. the moon waxed and waned, but the star of her hope never waned to the setting; through her tears she beheld it afar, like a torch on the eastern horizon. "he will come,--he is coming," she said; "he will come, for my white eagle promised," and low to the bare earth the maid bent her ear for the sound of his footsteps, "he is gone, but his voice in my ear still remains like the voice of the robin; he is far, but his footsteps i hear; he is coming; my white chief is coming!" but the moon waxed and waned. nevermore will the eyes of winona behold him. far away on the dark, rugged shore of the blue _gitchee gúmee_ he lingers. no tidings the rising sun brings; no tidings the star of the evening; but morning and evening she sings, like a turtle-dove widowed and waiting: aké u, aké u, aké u; ma cántè maséeca. aké u, aké u, aké u; ma cántè maséca. come again, come again, come again; for my heart is sad. come again, come again, come again; for my heart is sad. death of winona. down the broad _ha-ha wák-pa_[bs] the band took their way to the games at _keóza_[ ] while the swift-footed hunters by land ran the shores for the elk and the bison. like _magás_[bt] ride the birchen canoes on the breast of the dark, winding river, by the willow-fringed island they cruise, by the grassy hills green to their summits; by the lofty bluffs hooded with oaks that darken the deep with their shadows; and bright in the sun gleam the strokes of the oars in the hands of the women. with the band went winona. the oar plied the maid with the skill of a hunter. they tarried a time on the shore of _remníca_-- the lake of the mountains.[bu] there the fleet hunters followed the deer, and the thorny pahin[bv] for the women from the tees rose the smoke of good cheer, curling blue through the tops of the maples, near the foot of a cliff that arose, like the battle-scarred walls of a castle, up-towering, in rugged repose, to a dizzy height over the waters. [bs] the dakota name for the mississippi, see note in appendix. [bt] wild geese. [bu] lake pepin, by hennepin called lake of tears--called by the dakotas _remnee-chah-mday_--lake of the mountains. [bv] pah-hin--the porcupine--the quills of which are greatly prized for ornamental work. but the man-wolf still followed his prey, and the step-mother ruled in the teepee; her will must winona obey, by the custom and law of dakotas. the gifts to the teepee were brought-- the blankets and beads of the white men, and winona, the orphaned, was bought by the crafty, relentless tamdóka. in the spring-time of life, in the flush of the gladsome mid-may days of summer, when the bobolink sang and the thrush, and the red robin chirped in the branches, to the tent of the brave must she go; she must kindle the fire in his _teepee_; she must sit in the lodge of her foe, as a slave at the feet of her master. alas for her waiting! the wings of the east-wind have brought her no tidings; on the meadow the meadow-lark sings, but sad is her song to winona, for the glad warbler's melody brings but the memory of voices departed. the day-spirit walked in the west to his lodge in the land of the shadows; his shining face gleamed on the crest of the oak-hooded hills and the mountains, and the meadow-lark hied to her nest, and the mottled owl peeped from her cover. but hark! from the _teepees_ a cry! hear the shouts of the hurrying warriors! are the feet of the enemy nigh,-- of the crafty and cruel ojibways? nay; look!--on the dizzy cliff high-- on the brink of the cliff stands winona! her sad face up-turned to the sky. hark! i hear the wild wail of her death-song: "my father's spirit, look down, look down-- from your hunting grounds in the shining skies; behold, for the light of my heart is gone; the light is gone and winona dies. i looked to the east, but i saw no star; the face of my white chief was turned away. i harked for his footsteps in vain; afar his bark sailed over the sunrise-sea. long have i watched till my heart is cold; in my breast it is heavy and cold as a stone. no more shall winona his face behold, and the robin that sang in her heart is gone. shall i sit at the feet of the treacherous brave? on his hateful couch shall winona lie? shall she kindle his fire like a coward slave? no!--a warrior's daughter can bravely die. my father's spirit, look down, look down-- from your hunting-grounds in the shining skies; behold, for the light in my heart is gone; the light is gone and winona dies." [illustration: down whirling and fluttering she fell, and headlong plunged into the waters.] swift the strong hunters climbed as she sang, and the foremost of all was tamdóka; from crag to crag upward he sprang; like a panther he leaped to the summit. too late!--on the brave as he crept turned the maid in her scorn and defiance; then swift from the dizzy height leaped. like a brant arrow-pierced in mid-heaven. down whirling and fluttering she fell, and headlong plunged into the waters. forever she sank mid the wail, and the wild lamentation of women. her lone spirit evermore dwells in the depths of the lake of the mountains, and the lofty cliff evermore tells to the years as they pass her sad story.[bw] in the silence of sorrow the night o'er the earth spread her wide, sable pinions; and the stars[ ] hid their faces; and light on the lake fell the tears of the spirits. as her sad sisters watched on the shore for her spirit to rise from the waters, they heard the swift dip of an oar, and a boat they beheld like a shadow, gliding down through the night in the gray, gloaming mists on the face of the waters. 'twas the bark of duluth on his way from the falls to the games at _keóza_. [bw] the dakotas say that the spirit of winona forever haunts the lake. they say that it was many, many winters ago when winona leaped from the rock,--that the rock was then perpendicular to the water's edge and she leaped into the lake, but now the rock has partly crumbled down and the waters have also receded, so that they do not now reach, the foot of the perpendicular rock as of old. spring _et nunc omnis ager, mine omms parturit arbos; nunc frondent sylvæ, nunc formostssimus annus. --virgil._ delightful harbinger of joys to come, of summer's verdure and a fruitful year, who bids thee o'er our northern snow-fields roam, and make all gladness in thy bright career? lo from the indian isle thou dost appear, and dost a thousand pleasures with thee bring: but why to us art thou so ever dear? bearest thou the hope--upon thy radiant wing-- of immortality, o soft, celestial spring? yea, buds and flowers that fade not, they are thine, and youth-renewing balms; the sear and old are young and gladsome at thy touch divine. thou breath'st upon the frozen earth--behold, meadows and vales of grass and floral gold, green-covered hills and leafy mountains grand: young life leaps up where all was dumb and cold, as smoldering embers into flame are fanned, or the dead came back to life at the touch of the savior's hand. the snow-clouds fly the canopy of heaven; the rivulets ripple with the merry tone of wanton waters, and the breezes given to fan the budding hills are all thine own. returning songsters from the tropic zone their vernal love-songs in the tree tops sing, and talk and twitter in a tongue unknown of joys that journey on thy golden wing, and god who sends thee forth to wake the world, o spring! [illustration: spring ada mary huntly willie] emblem of youth--enchanting goddess, spring; lo now the happy rustic wends his way o'er meadows decked with violets from thy wing, and laboring to the rhythm of song all day, performs the task the harvest shall repay an hundredfold into the reaper's hand. what recks the tiller of his toil in may? what cares he if his cheeks are tinged and tanned by thy warm sunshine-kiss and by thy breezes bland? hark to the tinkling bells of grazing kine! the lambkins bleating on the mountain-side! the red squirrel chippering in the proud old pine! the pigeon-cock cooing to his vernal bride! o'er all the land and o'er the peaceful tide, singing and praising every living thing, till one sweet anthem, echoed far and wide, makes all the broad blue bent of ether ring with welcomings to thee, god-given, supernal spring. to mollie o mollie, i would i possessed such a heart; it enchants me--so gentle and true; i would i possessed all its magical art, then, mollie, i would enchant you. those dear, rosy lips--tho' i never caressed them(?)-- are as sweet as the wild honey-dew; your cheeks--all the angels in heaven have blessed them, but not one is as lovely as you. then give me that heart,--o that innocent heart! for mine own is cold and _perdu_; it enchants me, but give me its magical art, then, mollie, i will enchant you. . to sylva i know thou art true, and i know thou art fair as the rose-bud that blooms in thy beautiful hair; thou art far, but i feel the warm throb of thy heart; thou art far, but i love thee wherever thou art. wherever at noontide my spirit may be, at evening it silently wanders to thee; it seeks thee, my dear one, for comfort and rest, as the weary-winged dove seeks at night-fall her nest. through the battle of life--through its sorrow and care-- till the mortal sink down with its load of despair,-- till we meet at the feet of the father and son, i'll love thee and cherish thee, beautiful one. . thanksgiving. [nov. , , during the great financial depression.] father, our thanks are due to thee for many a blessing given, by thy paternal love and care, from the bounty-horn of heaven. we know that still that horn is filled with blessings for our race, and we calmly look thro' winter's storm to thy benignant face. father, we raise our thanks to thee,-- who seldom thanked before; and seldom bent the stubborn knee thy goodness to adore: but father, thou hast blessings poured on all our wayward days and now thy mercies manifold have filled our hearts with praise the winter-storm may rack and roar; we do not fear its blast; and we'll bear with faith and fortitude the lot that thou hast cast. but father,--father,--o look down on the poor and homeless head and feed the hungry thousands that cry to thee for bread. thou givest us our daily bread; we would not ask for more; but, father, give their daily bread to the multitudes of poor. in all the cities of the land the naked and hungry are; o feed them with thy manna, lord, and clothe them with thy care. thou dost not give a serpent, lord, we will not give a stone; for the bread and meat thou givest us are not for us alone. and while a loaf is given to us from thy all-bounteous horn we'll cheerfully divide that loaf with the hungry and forlorn. charity frail are the best of us, brothers-- god's charity cover us all-- yet we ask for perfection in others, and scoff when they stumble and fall. shall we give him a fish--or a serpent-- who stretches his hand in his need? let the proud give a stone, but the manly will give him a hand full of bread. let us search our own hearts and behavior ere we cast at a brother a stone, and remember the words of the savior to the frail and unfortunate one; remember when others displease us the nazarene's holy command, for the only word written by jesus was charity--writ in the sand. charity [written in a friend's book of autographs, .] bear and forbear, i counsel thee, forgive and be forgiven, for charity is the golden key that opens the gate of heaven. sailor-boy's song away, away, o'er the bounding sea my spirit flies like a gull; for i know my mary is watching for me, and the moon is bright and full. she sits on the rock by the sounding shore, and gazes over the sea; and she sighs, "will my sailor-boy come no more? will he never come back to me?" the moonbeams play in her raven hair; and the soft breeze kisses her brow; but if your sailor-boy, love, were there, he would kiss your sweet lips i trow. and mother--she sits in the cottage-door; but her heart is out on the sea; and she sighs, "will my sailor-boy come no more? will he never come back to me?" ye winds that over the billows roam with a low and sullen moan, o swiftly come to waft me home; o bear me back to my own. for long have i been on the billowy deep, on the boundless waste of sea; and while i sleep there are two who weep, and watch and pray for me. when the mad storm roars till the stoutest fear and the thunders roll over the sea, i think of you, mary and mother dear, for i know you are thinking of me. then blow, ye winds, for my swift return; let the tempest roar o'er the main; let the billows yearn and the lightning burn; they will hasten me home again. my dead last night in my feverish dreams i heard a voice like the moan of an autumn sea, or the low, sad wail of a widowed bird, and it said--"my darling, come home to me." then a hand was laid on my throbbing head-- as cold as clay, but it soothed my pain: i wakened and knew from among the dead my darling stood by my coach again. dust to dust dust to dust: fall and perish love and lust: life is one brief autumn day; sin and sorrow haunt the way to the narrow house of clay, clutching at the good and just: dust to dust. dust to dust: still we strive and toil and trust, from the cradle to the grave: vainly crying, "jesus, save!" fall the coward and the brave, fall the felon and the just: dust to dust. dust to dust: hark, i hear the wintry gust; yet the roses bloom to-day, blushing to the kiss of may, while the north winds sigh and say: "lo we bring the cruel frost-- dust to dust." dust to dust: yet we live and love and trust, lifting burning brow and eye to the mountain peaks on high: from the peaks the ages cry, strewing ashes, rime and rust: "dust to dust!" dust to dust: what is gained when all is lost? gaily for a day we tread-- proudly with averted head o'er the ashes of the dead-- blind with pride and mad with lust: dust to dust. hope and trust: all life springs from out the dust: ah, we measure god by man, looking forward but a span on his wondrous, boundless plan; all his ways are wise and just; hope and trust. hope and trust: hope will blossom from the dust; love is queen: god's throne is hers; his great heart with loving force throbs throughout the universe; we are his and he is just; hope and trust. o let me dream the dreams of long ago call me not back, o cold and crafty world: i scorn your thankless thanks and hollow praise. wiser than seer or scientist--content to tread no paths beyond these bleating hills, here let me lie beneath this dear old elm, among the blossoms of the clover-fields, and listen to the humming of the bees. here in those far-off, happy, boyhood years, when all my world was bounded by these hills, i dreamed my first dreams underneath this elm. dreamed? aye, and builded castles in the clouds; dreamed, and made glad a fond, proud mother's heart, now moldering into clay on yonder hill; dreamed till my day-dreams paved the world with gold; dreamed till my mad dreams made one desolate; dreamed--o my soul, and was it all a dream? as i lay dreaming under this old elm, building my castles in the sunny clouds, her soft eyes peeping from the copse of pine, looked tenderly on me and my glad heart leaped following her footsteps. o the dream--the dream! o fawn-eyed, lotus-lipped, white-bosomed flore! i hide my bronzed face in your golden hair: thou wilt not heed the dew-drops on my beard; thou wilt not heed the wrinkles on my brow; thou wilt not chide me for my long delay. here we stood heart to heart and eye to eye, and i looked down into her inmost soul, the while she drank my promise like sweet wine o let me dream the dreams of long ago! soft are the tender eyes of maiden love; sweet are the dew-drops of a dear girl's lips when love's red roses blush in sudden bloom: o let me dream the dreams of long ago! hum soft and low, o bee-bent clover-fields; blink, blue-eyed violets, from the dewy grass; break into bloom, my golden dandelions; break into bloom, my dear old apple-trees. i hear the robins cherup on the hedge, i hear the warbling of the meadow-larks; i hear the silver-fluted whippowil; i hear the harps that moan among the pines touched by the ghostly fingers of the dead. hush!--let me dream the dreams of long ago. and wherefore left i these fair, flowery fields, where her fond eyes and ever gladsome voice made all the year one joyous, warbling june, to chase my castles in the passing clouds-- false as the mirage of some indian isle to shipwrecked sailors famished on the brine? wherefore?--look out upon the babbling world-- fools clamoring at the heels of clamorous fools! i hungered for the sapless husks of fame. dreaming i saw, beyond my native hills, the sunshine shimmer on the laurel trees. ah tenderly plead her fond eyes brimmed with tears; but lightly laughing at her fears i turned, eager to clutch my crown of laurel leaves, strong-souled and bold to front all winds of heaven-- a lamb and lion molded into one-- and burst away to tread the hollow world. ah nut-brown boys that tend the lowing kine, ah blithesome plowmen whistling on the glebe, ah merry mowers singing in the swaths, sweet, simple souls, contented not to know, wiser are ye and ye may teach the wise. years trode upon the heels of flying years, and still my _ignis fatuus_ flew before; on thorny paths my eager feet pursued, till she whose fond heart doted on my dreams passed painless to the pure eternal peace. years trode upon the heels of flying years and touched my brown beard with their silver wands, and still my _ignis fatuus_ flew before; through thorns and mire my torn feet followed still, till she, my darling, unforgotten flore, nursing her one hope all those weary years waiting my tardy coming, drooped and died. i hear her low, sweet voice among the pines: o let me dream the dreams of long ago: i see her fond eyes peeping from the pines: o let me dream the dreams of long ago and hide my bronzed face in her golden hair. is this the indian summer of my days-- wealth without care and love without desire? o misty, cheerless moon of falling leaves! is this the fruitage promised by the spring? o blighted clusters withering on the vine! o promised lips of love to one who dreams and wakens holding but the hollow air! let me dream on lest, dead unto my dead, false to the true and true unto the false, maddened by thoughts of that which might have been, and weary of the chains of that which is, i slake my heart-thirst at forbidden springs. i hear the voices of the moaning pines; i hear the low, hushed whispers of the dead, and one wan face looks in upon my dreams and wounds me with her sad, imploring eyes. the dead sun sinks beyond the misty hills; the chill winds whistle in the leafless elms; the cold rain patters on the fallen leaves. where pipes the silver-fluted whippowil? i hear no hum of bees among the bloom; i hear no robin cherup on the hedge: one dumb, lone lark sits shivering in the rain. i hear the voices of the autumn wind; i hear the cold rain dripping on the leaves; i hear the moaning of the mournful pines; i hear the hollow voices of the dead. o let me dream the dreams of long ago and dreaming pass into the dreamless sleep-- beyond the voices of the autumn winds, beyond the patter of the dreary rain, beyond compassion and all vain regret beyond all waking and all weariness: o let me dream the dreams of long ago. the pioneer [minnesota-- - ] when mollie and i were married from the dear old cottage-home, in the vale between the hills of fir and pine, i parted with a sigh in a stranger-land to roam, and to seek a western home for me and mine. by a grove-encircled lake in the wild and prairied west, as the sun was sinking down one summer day, i laid my knapsack down and my weary limbs to rest, and resolved to build a cottage-home and stay. i staked and marked my "corners," and i "filed" upon my claim, and i built a cottage-home of "logs and shakes;" and then i wrote a letter, and mollie and baby came out to bless me and to bake my johnny-cakes. when mollie saw my "cottage" and the way that i had "bached", she smiled, but i could see that she was "blue;" then she found my "sunday-clothes" all soiled and torn and patched, and she hid her face and shed a tear or two. but she went to work in earnest and the cabin fairly shone, and her dinners were so savory and so nice that i felt it was "not good that the man should be alone"-- even in this lovely land of paradise. well, the neighbors they were few and were many miles apart, and you couldn't hear the locomotive scream; but i was young and hardy, and my mollie gave me heart, and my "steers" they made a fast and fancy team. and the way i broke the sod was a marvel, you can bet, for i fed my "steers" before the dawn of day; and when the sun went under i was plowing prairie yet, till my mollie blew the old tin horn for tea. and the lazy, lousy "injuns" came a-loafing round the lake, and a-begging for a bone or bit of bread; and the sneaking thieves would steal whatever they could take-- from the very house where they were kindly fed. o the eastern preachers preach, and the long-haired poets sing of the "noble braves" and "dusky maidens fair;" but if they had pioneered 'twould have been another thing when the "injuns" got a-hankering for their "hair." often when we lay in bed in the middle of the night, how the prairie-wolves would howl their jubilee! then mollie she would waken in a shiver and a fright, clasp our baby-pet and snuggle up to me. there were hardships you may guess, and enough of weary toil for the first few years, but then it was so grand to see the corn and wheat waving o'er the virgin soil, and two stout and loving hearts went hand in hand. but mollie took the fever when our second babe was born, and she lay upon the bed as white as snow; and my idle cultivator lay a rusting in the corn; and the doctor said poor mollie she must go. now i never prayed before, but i fell upon my knees, and i prayed as never any preacher prayed; and mollie always said that it broke the fell disease; and i truly think the lord he sent us aid: for the fever it was broken, and she took a bit of food, and o then i went upon my knees again; and i never cried before,--and i never thought i could,-- but my tears they fell upon her hand like rain. and i think the lord has blessed us ever since i prayed the prayer, for my crops have never wanted rain or dew: and mollie often said in the days of debt and care, "don't you worry, john, the lord will help us through." for the "pesky," painted sioux, in the fall of 'sixty-two, came a-whooping on their ponies o'er the plain, and they killed my pigs and cattle, and i tell you it looked "blue," when they danced around my blazing stacks of grain. and the settlers mostly fled, but i didn't have a chance, so i caught my hunting-rifle long and true, and mollie poured the powder while i made the devils dance, to a tune that made 'em jump and tumble, too. and they fired upon the cabin; 'twas as good as any fort, but the "beauties" wouldn't give us any rest; for they skulked and blazed away, and i didn't call it sport, for i had to do my very "level best." now they don't call _me_ a coward, but my mollie she's a "brick;" for she chucked the children down the cellar-way, and she never flinched a hair tho' the bullets pattered thick, and we held the "painted beauties" well at bay. but once when i was aiming, a bullet grazed my head, and it cut the scalp and made the air look blue; then mollie straightened up like a soldier and she said: "never mind it, john, the lord will help us through." and you bet it raised my "grit," and i never flinched a bit, and my nerves they got as strong as steel or brass; and when i fired again i was sure that i had hit, for i saw the skulking devil "claw the grass." well, the fight was long and hot, and i got a charge of shot in the shoulder, but it never broke a bone; and i never stopped to think whether i was hit or not till we found our ammunition almost gone. but the "rangers" came at last--just as we were out of lead,-- and i thanked the lord, and mollie thanked him, too; then she put her arms around my neck and sobbed and cried and said: "bless the lord!--i knew that he would help us through." and yonder on the hooks hangs that same old trusty gun, and above it--i am sorry they're so few-- hang the black and braided trophies[bx] yet that i and mollie won in that same old bloody battle with the sioux. [bx] scalp-locks. fifteen years have rolled away since i laid my knapsack down, and my prairie claim is now one field of grain; and yonder down the lake loom the steeples of a town, and my flocks are feeding out upon the plain. the old log-house is standing filled with bins of corn and wheat, and the cars they whistle past our cottage-home; but my span of spanking trotters they are "just about" as fleet, and i wouldn't give my farm to rule in rome. for mollie and i are young yet, and monarchs, too, are we-- of a "section" just as good as lies out-doors; and the children are so happy (and mollie and i have three) and we think that we can "lie upon our oars." [illustration: the pioneer] so this summer we went back to the old home by the hill: o the hills they were so rugged and so tall! and the lofty pines were gone but the rocks were all there still, and the valleys looked so crowded and so small; and the dear familiar faces that i longed so much to see, looked so strangely unfamiliar and so old, that the land of hills and valleys was no more a home to me, and the river seemed a rivulet as it rolled. so i gladly hastened back to the prairies of the west-- to the boundless fields of waving grass and corn; and i love the lake-gemmed land where the wild-goose builds her nest, far better than the land where i was born. and i mean to lay my bones over yonder by the lake-- by and by when i have nothing else to do-- and i'll give the "chicks" the farm, and i know for mollie's sake, that the good and gracious lord will help 'em through. night thoughts "_le notte e madre dipensien_." i tumble and toss on my pillow, as a ship without rudder or spars is tumbled and tossed on the billow, 'neath the glint and the glory of stars. 'tis midnight and moonlight, and slumber has hushed every heart but my own; o why are these thoughts without number sent to me by the man in the moon? thoughts of the here and hereafter,-- thoughts all unbidden to come,-- thoughts that are echoes of laughter-- thoughts that are ghosts from the tomb,-- thoughts that are sweet as wild honey,-- thoughts that are bitter as gall,-- thoughts to be coined into money,-- thoughts of no value at all. dreams that are tangled like wild-wood, a hint creeping in like a hare; visions of innocent childhood,-- glimpses of pleasure and care; brave thoughts that flash like a saber,-- cowards that crouch as they come,-- thoughts of sweet love and sweet labor in the fields at the old cottage-home. visions of maize and of meadow, songs of the birds and the brooks, glimpses of sunshine and shadow, of hills and the vine-covered nooks; dreams that were dreams of a lover,-- a face like the blushing of morn,-- hum of bees and the sweet scent of clover and a bare-headed girl in the corn. hopes that went down in the battle, apples that crumbled to dust,-- manna for rogues, and the rattle of hail-storms that fall on the just. the "shoddy" that lolls in her chariot,-- maud muller at work in the grass: here a silver-bribed judas iscariot,-- there--leonidas dead in the pass. commingled the good and the evil; sown together the wheat and the tares; in the heart of the wheat is the weevil; there is joy in the midst of our cares. the past,--shall we stop to regret it? what is,--shall we falter and fall? if the envious wrong thee, forget it; let thy charity cover them all. the cock hails the morn, and the rumble of wheels is abroad in the streets, still i tumble and mumble and grumble at the fleas in my ears and--the sheets; mumble and grumble and tumble till the buzz of the bees is no more; in a jumble i mumble and drumble and tumble off--into a snore. daniel [written at the grave of an old friend.] down into the darkness at last, daniel,--down into the darkness at last; laid in the lap of our mother, daniel,--sleeping the dreamless sleep,-- sleeping the sleep of the babe unborn--the pure and the perfect rest: aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain? aye, and is it not better, if only the dead soul knew? joy was there in the spring-time and hope like a blossoming rose, when the wine-blood of youth ran tingling and throbbing in every vein; chirrup of robin and blue-bird in the white-blossomed apple and pear; carpets of green on the meadows spangled with dandelions; lowing of kine in the valleys, bleating of lambs on the hills; babble of brooks and the prattle of fountains that flashed in the sun; glad, merry voices, ripples of laughter, snatches of music and song, and blue-eyed girls in the gardens that blushed like the roses they wore. and life was a pleasure unvexed, unmingled with sorrow and pain? a round of delight from the blink of morn till the moon rose laughing at night? nay, there were cares and cankers--envy and hunger and hate; death and disease in the pith of the limbs, in the root and the bud and the branch; dry-rot, alas, at the heart, and a canker-worm gnawing therein. the summer of life came on with its heat and its struggle and toil, sweat of the brow and the soul, throbbing of muscle and brain, toil and moil and grapple with fortune clutched as she flew-- only a shred of her robe, and a brave heart baffled and bowed! stern-visaged fate with a hand of iron uplifted to fell; the secret stab of a friend that stung like the sting of an asp, wringing red drops from the soul and a stifled moan of despair; the loose lips of gossip and then--a storm of slander and lies, till justice was blind as a bat and deaf to the cries of the just, and mercy, wrapped up in her robe, stood by like a statue in stone. sear autumn followed the summer with frost and the falling of leaves and red-ripe apples that blushed on the hills in the orchard of peace: red-ripe apples, alas, with worms writhing down to the core, apples of ashes and fungus that fell into rot at a touch; clusters of grapes in the garden blighted and sour on the vines; wheat-fields that waved in the valley and promised a harvest of gold, thrashing but chaff and weevil or cockle and shriveled cheat. fair was the promise of spring-time; the harvest a harvest of lies: fair was the promise of summer with fortune clutched by the robe; fair was the promise of autumn--a hollow harlot in red, a withered rose at her girdle and the thorns of the rose in her hand. down into the darkness at last, daniel,--down into the darkness at last; laid in the lap of our mother, daniel, sleeping the dreamless sleep-- sleeping the sleep of the babe unborn--the pure and the perfect rest: aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain? aye, and is it not better, if only the dead soul knew? dead ashes, what do you care if it storm, if it shine, if it shower? hail-storm, tornado or tempest, or the blinding blizzard of snow, or the mid-may showers on the blossoms with the glad sun blinking between, dead ashes, what do you care?--they break not the sleep of the dead. proud stands the ship to the sea, fair breezes belly her sails; strong masted, stanch in her shrouds, stanch in her beams and her bones; bound for hesperian isles--for the isles of the plantain and palm, hope walks her deck with a smile and confidence stands at the helm; proudly she turns to the sea and walks like a queen on the waves. caught in the grasp of the tempest, lashed by the fiends of the storm, torn into shreds are her sails, tumbled her masts to the main; rudderless, rolling she drives and groans in the grasp of the sea; harbor or hope there is none; she goes to her grave in the brine: dead in the fathomless slime lie the bones of the ship and her crew. such was the promise of life; so is the promise fulfilled. down into the darkness at last, daniel,--down into the darkness at last; laid in the lap of our mother, daniel,--sleeping the dreamless sleep,-- sleeping the sleep of the babe unborn--the pure and the perfect rest: aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain? aye, and is it not better, if only the dead soul knew? over your grave the tempest may roar or the zephyr sigh; over your grave the blue-bells may blink or the snow-drifts whirl,-- dead ashes, what do you care?--they break not the sleep of the dead. they that were friends may mourn, they that were friends may praise; they that knew you and yet--knew you never--may cavil and blame; they that were foes in disguise may strike at you down in the grave; slander, the scavenger-buzzard--may vomit her lies on you there; dead ashes, what do you care?--they break not the sleep of the dead. the hoarse, low voice of the years croaks on forever-and-aye: _change! change! change_! and the winters wax and wane. the old oak dies in the forest; the acorn sprouts at its feet; the sea gnaws on at the land; the continent crowds on the sea. bound to the ixion wheel with brazen fetters of fate man rises up from the dust and falls to the dust again. god washes our eyes with tears, and still they are blinded with dust: we grope in the dark and marvel, and pray to the power unknown-- crying for help to the desert: not even an echo replies. doomed unto death like the moon, like the midget that men call man, wrinkled with age and agony the old earth rolls her rounds; shrinking and shuddering she rolls--an atom in god's great sea-- only an atom of dust in the infinite ocean of space. what to him are the years who sleeps in her bosom there? what to him is the cry wrung out of the souls of men? _change, change, change_, and the sea gnaws on at the land: dead ashes, what do you care?--it breaks not the sleep of the dead. down into the darkness at last, daniel,--down into the darkness at last; laid in the lap of our mother, daniel,--sleeping the dreamless sleep,-- sleeping the sleep of the babe unborn--the pure and the perfect rest: aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain? aye, and is it not better if only the dead soul knew? up--out of the darkness at last, daniel,--out of the darkness at last; into the light of the life eternal--into the sunlight of god, singing the song of the soul immortal freed from the fetters of flesh: aye, and is it not better than this fitful fever and pain? aye, and is it not better than sleeping the dreamless sleep? hark! from the reel of the spheres eternal the freed soul answereth "_aye_." aye--aye--aye--it is better, brothers, if it be but the dream of the famished soul. minnetonka[by] [by] the dakota name for this beautiful lake is _we-ne-a-tan-ka_--broad water. by dropping the "a" before "tanka" we have changed the name to _big water_. i sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious june, i hear the dip of gleaming oar, i list the singers' merry tune. beneath my feet the waters beat, and ripple on the polished stones, the squirrel chatters from his seat; the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones. the pink and gold in blooming wold,--the green hills mirrored in the lake! the deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break. the maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep; the sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an orient gem asleep. the crimson west glows like the breast of _rhuddin_[ca] when he pipes in may, as downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay. in amber sky the swallows fly and sail and circle o'er the deep; the light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap. the rising moon, o'er isle and dune, looks laughing down on lake and lea; weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea. from bank and hill the whippowil sends piping forth his flute-like notes, and clear and shrill the answers trill from leafy isles and silver throats. the twinkling light on cape and height; the hum of voices on the shores; the merry laughter on the night; the dip and plash of frolic oars,-- these tell the tale. on hill and dale the cities pour their gay and fair; along the sapphire lake they sail, and quaff like wine the balmy air. 'tis well. of yore from isle and shore the smoke of indian _teepees_[cb] rose; the hunter plied the silent oar; the forest lay in still repose. the moon-faced maid, in leafy glade, her warrior waited from the chase; the nut-brown, naked children played, and chased the gopher on the grass. the dappled fawn on wooded lawn, peeped out upon the birch canoe, swift-gliding in the gray of dawn along the silent waters blue. in yonder tree the great wanm-dee[cc] securely built her spacious nest; the blast that swept the landlocked sea[cd] but rocked her clamorous babes to rest. by grassy mere the elk and deer gazed on the hunter as he came; nor fled with fear from bow or spear;-- "so wild were they that they were tame." ah, birch canoe, and hunter, too, have long forsaken lake and shore; he bade his fathers' bones adieu and turned away forevermore. but still, methinks, on dusky brinks the spirit of the warrior moves; at crystal springs the hunter drinks, and nightly haunts the spot he loves. for oft at night i see the light of lodge-fires on the shadowy shores, and hear the wail some maiden's sprite above her slaughtered warrior pours. i hear the sob, on spirit knob,[bz] of indian mother o'er her child; and on the midnight waters throb her low _yun-he-he's_[ce] weird and wild: and sometimes, too, the light canoe glides like a shadow o'er the deep at midnight when the moon is low, and all the shores are hushed in sleep. alas,--alas!--for all things pass; and we shall vanish too, as they; we build our monuments of brass, and granite, but they waste away. [bz] spirit-knob was a small hill upon a point in the lake in full view from wayzata. it is now washed away by the waves. the spirit of a dakota mother, whose only child was drowned in the lake during a storm many years ago, often wailed at midnight (so the dakotas said), on this hill. so they called it _wa-na-gee pa-zo-dan_--spirit-knob. (literally--little hill of the spirit.) [ca] the welsh name for the robin. [illustration: crystal bay lake minnetonka] [cb] lodges. [cc] wanm-dee--the war-eagle of the dakotas. [cd] lake superior. [ce] pronounced _yoon-hay-hay_--the exclamation used by dakota women in their lament for the dead, and equivalent to "woe-is-me." beyond white-haired and hoary-bearded, who art thou that speedest on, albeit bent with age, even as a youth that followeth after dreams? whence are thy feet, and whither trends thy way? stayed not his hurried steps, but as he passed his low, hoarse answer fell upon the wind: "go thou and question yonder mountain-peaks; go thou and ask the hoary-heaving main;-- nay, if thou wilt, the great, globed, silent stars that sail innumerable the shoreless sea, and let the eldest answer if he may. lo the unnumbered myriad, myriad worlds rolling around innumerable suns, through all the boundless, bottomless abyss, are but as grains of sand upwhirled and flung by roaring winds and scattered on the sea. i have beheld them and my hand hath sown. "far-twinkling faint through dim, immeasured depths, behold alcyone--a grander sun. round him thy solar orb with all his brood glimmering revolves. lo from yon mightier sphere light, flying faster than the thoughts of men, swift as the lightnings cleave the glowering storm, shot on and on through dim, ethereal space, ere yet it touched thy little orb of earth, five hundred cycles of thy world and more. round him thy sun, obedient to his power, thrice tenfold swifter than the swiftest wing, his æon-orbit, million-yeared and vast, wheels through the void. him flaming i beheld when first he flashed from out his central fire-- a mightier orb beyond thine utmost ken. round upon round innumerable hath swung thy sun upon his circuit; grander still his vaster orbit far alcyone wheels and obeys the mightier orb unseen. "seest thou yon star-paved pathway like an arch athwart thy welkin?--wondrous zone of stars, dim in the distance circling one huge sun, to whom thy sun is but a spark of fire-- to whom thine earth is but a grain of dust: glimmering around him myriad suns revolve and worlds innumerable as sea-beach sands. ere on yon _via lactea_ rolled one star lo i was there and trode the mighty round; yea, ere the central orb was fired and hung a lamp to light the chaos. star on star, system on system, myriad worlds on worlds, beyond the utmost reach of mortal ken, beyond the utmost flight of mortal dream, yet have mine eyes beheld the birth of all. but whence i am i know not. we are three-- known, yet unknown--unfathomable to man, time, space, and matter pregnant with all life, immortals older than the oldest orb. we were and are forever: out of us are all things--suns and satellites, midge and man. worlds wax and wane, suns flame and glow and die; through shoreless space their scattered ashes float, unite, cohere, and wax to worlds again, changing, yet changless--new, but ever old-- no atom lost and not one atom gained, though fire to vapor melt the adamant, or feldspar fall in drops of summer rain. and in the atoms sleep the germs of life, myriad and multiform and marvelous, throughout all vast, immeasurable space, in every grain of dust, in every drop of water, waiting but the thermal touch. yea, in the womb of nature slumber still wonders undreamed and forms beyond compare, minds that will cleave the chaos and unwind the web of fate, and from the atom trace the worlds, the suns, the universal law: and from the law, the master; yea, and read on yon grand starry scroll the master's will." yea, but what master? lift the veil, o time! where lie the bounds of space and whither dwells the power unseen--the infinite unknown? faint from afar the solemn answer fell: "Æon on æon, cycles myriad-yeared, swifter than light out-flashing from the suns, my flying feet have sought the bounds of space and found not, nor the infinite unknown. i see the master only in his work: i see the ruler only in his law: time hath not touched the great all-father's throne, whose voice unheard the universe obeys, who breathes upon the deep and worlds are born. worlds wax and wane, suns crumble into dust, but matter pregnant with immortal life, since erst the white-haired centuries wheeled the vast, hath lost nor gained. who made it, and who made the maker? out of nothing, nothing. lo the worm that crawls from out the sun-touched sand, what knows he of the huge, round, rolling earth? yet more than thou of all the vast beyond, or ever wilt. content thee; let it be: know only this--there is a power unknown-- master of life and maker of the worlds." lines on the death of captain hiram a. coats, my old schoolmate and friend. dead? or is it a dream-- only the voice of a dream? dead in the prime of his years, and laid in the lap of the dust; only a handful of ashes moldering down into dust. strong and manly was he, strong and tender and true; proud in the prime of his years; strong in the strength of the just: a heart that was half a lion's, and half the heart of a girl; tender to all that was tender, and true to all that was true; bold in the battle of life, and bold on the bloody field; first at the call of his country, first in the front of the foe. hope of the years was his-- the golden and garnered sheaves; fair on the hills of autumn reddened the apples of peace. dead? or is it a dream? dead in the prime of his years, and laid in the lap of the dust. aye, it _is_ but a dream; for the life of man is a dream: dead in the prime of his years and laid in the lap of the dust; only a handful of ashes moldering down into dust. only a handful of ashes moldering down into dust? aye, but what of the breath blown out of the bosom of god? what of the spirit that breathed and burned in the temple of clay? dust unto dust returns; the dew-drop returns to the sea; the flash from the flint and the steel returns to its source in the sun. change cometh forever-and-aye, but forever nothing is lost-- the dew-drop that sinks in the sand, nor the sunbeam that falls in the sea. ah, life is only a link in the endless chain of change. death giveth the dust to the dust and the soul to the infinite soul: for aye since the morning of man-- since the human rose up from the brute-- hath hope, like a beacon of light, like a star in the rift of the storm, been writ by the finger of god on the longing hearts of men. o follow no goblin fear; o cringe to no cruel creed; nor chase the shadow of doubt till the brain runs mad with despair. stretch forth thy hand, o man, to the winds and the quaking earth-- to the heaving and falling sea-- to the ultimate stars and feel the throb of the spirit of god-- the pulse of the universe. mauley the brave ferry-man [note.--the great sioux massacre in minnesota commenced at the agency village, on the minnesota river, early in the morning of the th day of august, , precipitated, doubtless, by the murders at acton on the day previous. the massacre and the indian war that followed developed many brave men, but no truer hero than mauley, an obscure frenchman, the ferry-man at the agency. continually under fire, he resolutely ran his ferry-boat back and forth across the river, affording the terror-stricken people the only chance for escape. he was shot down on his boat just as he had landed on the opposite shore the last of those who fled from the burning village to the ferry-landing. the indians disemboweled his dead body, cut off the head, hands and feet and thrust them into the cavity. see _heard's hist. sioux war_, p .] crouching in the early morning, came the swarth and naked "sioux;"[cf] on the village, without warning, fell the sudden, savage blow. horrid yell and crack of rifle mingle as the flames arise;-- with the tomahawk they stifle mothers' wails and children's cries. men and women to the ferry fly from many a blazing cot;-- brave and ready--grim and steady, mauley mans the ferry-boat. can they cross the ambushed river? 'tis for life the only chance; only this may some deliver from the scalping-knife and lance. through the throng of wailing women frantic men in terror burst;-- "back, ye cowards!" thundered mauley,-- "i will take the women first!" then with brawny arms and lever back the craven men he smote. brave and ready--grim and steady, mauley mans the ferry-boat. to and fro across the river plies the little mercy-craft, while from ambushed gun and quiver on it falls the fatal shaft. trembling from the burning village, still the terror-stricken fly, for the indians' love of pillage stays the bloody tragedy. at the windlass-bar bare-headed-- bare his brawny arms and throat-- brave and ready--grim and steady, mauley mans the ferry-boat. hark!--a sudden burst of war-whoops! they are bent on murder now; down the ferry-road they rally, led by furious little crow. frantic mothers clasp their children, and the help of god implore; frantic men leap in the river ere the boat can reach the shore. mauley helps the weak and wounded till the last soul is afloat;-- brave and ready--grim and steady, mauley mans the ferry-boat. speed the craft!--the fierce dakotas whoop and hasten to the shore, and a shower of shot and arrows on the crowded boat they pour. fast it floats across the river, managed by the master hand, laden with a freight so precious,-- god be thanked!--it reaches land. where is mauley--grim and steady, shall his brave deed be forgot? grasping still the windlass-lever, dead he lies upon the boat. [cf] pronounced soo; a name given to the dakotas in early days by the french traders. [illustration: mauley the brave ferry-man] men man is a creature of a thousand whims; the slave of hope and fear and circumstance. through toil and martyrdom a million years struggling and groping upward from the brute, and ever dragging still the brutish chains, and ever slipping backward to the brute. shall he not break the galling, brazen bonds that bind him writhing on the wheel of fate? long ages groveling with his brother brutes, he plucked the tree of knowledge and uprose and walked erect--a god; but died the death: for knowledge brings but sadness and unrest forever, insatiate longing and regret. behold the brute's unerring instinct guides true as the pole-star, while man's reason leads how oft to quicksands and the hidden reefs! contented brute, his daily wants how few! and these by nature's mother-hand supplied. man's wants unnumbered and unsatisfied, and multiplied at every onward step-- insatiate as the cavernous maw of time. his real wants how simple and how few! behold the kine in yonder pasture-field cropping the clover, or in rest reclined, chewing meek-eyed the cud of sweet content. ambition plagues them not, nor hope, nor fear; no demons fright them and no cruel creeds; no pangs of disappointment or remorse. see man the picture of perpetual want, the prototype of all disquietude; full of trouble, yet ever seeking more; between the upper and the nether stone ground and forever in the mill of fate. nature and art combine to clothe his form, to feed his fancy and to fill his maw; and yet the more they give the more he craves. give him the gold of ophir, still he delves; give him the land, and he demands the sea; give him the earth--he reaches for the stars. doomed by his fate to scorn the good he has and grasp at fancied good beyond his reach, he seeks for silver in the distant hills while in the sand gold glitters at his feet. o man, thy wisdom is but folly still; wiser the brute and full of sweet content. the wit and wisdom of five thousand years--what are they but the husks we feed upon, while beast and bird devour the golden grain? lo for the brutes dame nature sows and tills; for them the tuba-tree of paradise bends with its bounties free and manifold; for them the fabled fountain salsabil, gushes pure wine that sparkles as it runs, and fair al cawthar flows with creamy milk. but man, forever doomed to toil and sweat, digs the hard earth and casts his seeds therein, and hopes the harvest;--how oft he hopes in vain! weeds choke, winds blast, and myriad pests devour, the hot sun withers and the floods destroy. unceasing labor, vigilance and care reward him here and there with bounteous store. had man the blessed wisdom of content, happy were he--as wise horatius sung-- to whom god gives enough with sparing hand. of all the crops by sighing mortals sown, and watered with man's sweat and woman's tears, there is but only one that never fails in drouth or flood, on fat or flinty soil, on nilus' banks or scandia's stony hills-- the plenteous, never-stinted crop of fools. so hath it been since erst aspiring man broke from the brute and plucked the fatal tree, and will be till eternity grows gray. princes and parasites comprise mankind: to one wise prince a million parasites; the most uncommon thing is common-sense; a truly wise man is a freak of nature. the herd are parasites of parasites that blindly follow priest or demagogue, himself blind leader of the blind. the wise weigh words, but by the yard fools measure them. the wise beginneth at the end; the fool ends at the beginning, or begins anew: aye, every ditch is full of after-wit. folly sows broad cast; wisdom gathers in, and so the wise man fattens on the fool, and from the follies of the foolish learns wisdom to guide himself and bridle them. "to-morrow i made my fortune," cries the fool, "to-day i'll spend it." thus will folly eat his chicken ere the hen hath laid the egg. so folly blossoms with promises all the year-- promises that bud and blossom but to blast. "all men are fools," said socrates, the wise, and in the broader sense i grant it true, for even socrates had his xanthipp'. whose head is wise oft hath a foolish heart; the wisest has more follies than he needs; wisdom and madness, too, are near akin. the marrow-maddening canker-worm of love feeds on the brains of wise men as on fools'. the wise man gathers wisdom from all men as bees their honey hive from plant and weed. yea, from the varied history of the world, from the experience of all times, all men, the wise man learneth wisdom. folly learns from his own bruises if he learns at all. the fool--born wise--what need hath he to learn? he needs but gabble wisdom to the world: grill him on a gridiron and he gabbles still. wise men there are--wise in the eyes of men-- who cram their hollow heads with ancient wit cackled in carthage, babbled in babylon, gabbled in greece and riddled in old rome, and never coin a farthing of their own. wise men there are--for owls are counted wise-- who love to leave the lamp-lit paths behind, and chase the shapeless shadow of a doubt. too wise to learn, too wise to see the truth, e'en though it glow and sparkle like a gem on god's outstretched forefinger for all time. these have one argument, and only one, for good or evil, earth or jeweled heaven-- the olden, owlish argument of doubt. ah, he alone is wise who ever stands armed _cap-a-pié_ with god's eternal truth. where _grex_ is _rex_ god help the hapless land. the yelping curs that bay the rising moon are not more clamorous, and the fitful winds not more inconstant. list the croaking frogs that raise their heads in fen or stagnant pool, shouting at eve their wisdom from the mud. beside the braying, bleating, bellowing mob, their jarring discords are sweet harmony. the headless herd are but a noise of wind; sometimes, alas, the wild tornado's roar. as full of freaks as curs are full of fleas, like gnats they swarm, like flies they buzz and breed. thought works in silence: wisdom stops to think. no ass so obstinate as ignorance. oft as they seize the ship of state, behold-- overboard goes all ballast and they crowd to blast or breeze or hurricane full sail, each dunce a pilot and a captain too. how often cross-eyed justice hits amiss! doomed by athenian mobs to banishment, see aristides leave the land he saved: wisdom his fault and justice his offense. see caesar crowned a god and tully slain; see paris red with riot and noble blood, a king beheaded and a monster throned,-- king drone, flat fool that weather-cocked all winds, gulped gall and vinegar and smacked it wine, wig-wagged his way from gilded _oeil de boeuf_ through mob and maelstrom to the guillotine. chateaus up-blazing torch the doom of france, while human wolves howl ruin round their walls. contention hisses from a million mouths, and from ten thousand muttering craters smokes the smell of sulphur. gaul becomes a ghoul; while _parlez-tous_ in hot palaver holds hubbub _ad_ bedlam--pandemonium thriced. there, voices drowning voice with frantic cries, discord demented flaps her ruffled wings and shrieks delirium to her screeching brood. sneer-lipped, hawk-eyed, wolf-tongued oraculars-- wise-wigs, girondins, frothing jacobins-- reason to madness run, tongues venom-tanged-- howl chaos all with one united throat. maelstrom of madness, lazar-howled, hag-shrilled! quack quackles quack; all doctors disagree, while doctor guillotine's huge scalpel heads hell-dogs beheading helpless innocents. the very babes bark rabies. journalism, moon-mad, green-eyed, hound-scented, _lupus_-tongued on howls the pack and smells her bread in blood. _o tempus ferax insanorum, heu!_ physicked with metaphysics, pamphleteered into paroxysms, bruited into brutes. and metamorphosed into murder, lo men lapse to savagery and turn to beasts. hell-broth hag-boiled: a mad theroigne is queen-- mounts to the brazen throne of harlotdom, queen of the cursed, and flares her cannon-torch. watch-wolves, lean-jawed, fore-smelling feast of blood, in packs on paris howl from farthest france. discord demented bursts the bounds of _dis_; mad murder raves and horror holds her hell. hades up-heaves her whelps. in human forms up-flare the furies, serpent-haired and grin horrid with bloody jaws. scaled reptiles crawl from slum and sewer, slimy, coil on coil-- danton, dark beast, that builded for himself a monument of quicksand limed with blood; horse-leech marat, blear-eyed, vile vulture born; fair charlotte's dagger robbed the guillotine! black-biled, green-visaged, traitorous robespierre, that buzzard-beaked, hawk-taloned octopus who played with pale poltroonery of men, and drank the cup of flattery till he reeled; hell's pope uncrowned, immortal for a day. tinville, relentless dog of murder-plot-- doom-judge whose trembling victims were foredoomed; maillard who sucked his milk from murder's dugs, twin-whelp to theroigne, captain of the hags; jourdan, red-grizzled mule-son blotched with blood, headsman forever "famous-infamous;" keen, hag-whelped journalist camille desmoulins, who with a hundred other of his ilk hissed on the hounds and smeared his bread with blood; lebon, man-fiend, that vampire-ghoul who drank hot blood of headless victims, and compelled mothers to view the murder of their babes; at whose red guillotine, in arras raised, the pipe and fiddle played at every fall of ghastly head the ribald "_ca ira_;" and fiends unnamed and nameless brutes untaled. petticoat-patriots _sans bas_, and _sans-culottes_, rampant in rags and hunger-toothed uproar paris the proud. with jacobin clubs they club the head of france till all her brains are out. hired murder hunts in packs. men murder-mad slay for the love of murder. gloomy night, hiding her stars lest they in pity fall, beholds a thousand guiltless, trembling souls-- men, women, children--forth from prisons flung in flare of torch and glare of demon eyes, among the howling wolves and lazar-hags, crying for mercy where no mercy is, hewed down in heaps by bloody ax and pike. from their grim battlements the imps of hell indignant hissed and damped their fires with tears; and manhood from the watch-towers of the world cried in the name of human nature--"hold!" as well the drifting snail might strive to still the volcan-heaved, storm-struck, moon-maddened sea. blood-frenzied beasts demand their feast of blood. _"liberty--equality--fraternity!"_--the cry of blood-hounds baying on the track of babes. queen innocent beheaded--mother-queen! and queenly roland--nature's queenly queen! aye, at the foot of bloody guillotine she stood a heroine: before her loomed the goddess of liberty--in statue-stone. queen roland saw, and spake the words that ring along the centuries--_"o liberty! what crimes are committed in thy name!"_--and died. and when the headsman raised her severed head to hell-dogs shouting _"vive la liberté,"_ godlike disdain still sparkled in her eyes. grim hell herself in pity stood aghast, clanged shut her doors and stopped her ears with pitch. see the wise ruler--father of brazil, who struck the shackles from a million slaves, whose reign was peace and love and gentleness, despoiled and driven from the land he loves. see jealous labor strike the hand that feeds, and burn the mills that grind his daily bread; yea, in blind rage denounce the very laws that shield his home from europe's pauperdom. see the grieved farmer raise his horny hand and splutter garlic. hear the demagogues fist-maul the wind and weather-cock the crowd, with brazen foreheads full of empty noise out-bellowing the bulls of bashan; and behold shrill, wrinkled amazons in high harangue stamp their flat feet and gnash their toothless gums, and flaunt their petticoat-flag of "liberty." hear the old bandogs of the daily press, chained to their party posts, or fetter-free and running amuck against old party creeds, on-howl their packs and glory in the fight. see mangy curs, whose editorial ears prick to all winds to catch the popular breeze, slang-whanging yelp, and froth and snap and snarl, and sniff the gutters for their daily food. and these--are they our prophets and our priests? hurra!--hurra!--hurra!--for "liberty!" flaunt the red flag and flutter the petticoat; ran-tan the drums and let the bugles bray, the eagle scream and sixty million throats sing yankee-doodle--yankee-doodle-doo. the state is sick and every fool a quack running with pills and plasters and sure-cures, and every pill and package labelled _ism_. see liberty run mad, and anarchy, bearing the torch, the dagger and the bomb red-mouthed run riot in her sacred name hear mobs of idlers cry--_"equality! let all men share alike: divide, divide!"_ butting their heads against the granite rocks of nature and the eternal laws of god. pull down the toiler, lift the idler up! despoil the frugal, crown the negligent! offer rewards to idleness and crime! and pay a premium for improvidence! fools, can your wolfish cries repeal the laws of god engraven on the granite hills, written in every wrinkle of the earth, on every plain, on every mountain-top,-- nay, blazened o'er all the boundless universe on every jewel that sparkles on god's throne? and can ye rectify god's mighty plan? o pygmies, can ye measure god himself? aye, would ye measure god's almighty power, go--crack earth's bones and heave the granite hills; measure the ocean in a drinking-cup; measure eternity by the town-clock; nay, with a yard-stick measure the universe: measure for measure. measure god by man! "fools to the midmost marrow of your bones!" o buzzing flies and gnats! ye cannot strike one little atom from god's universe, or warp the laws of nature by a hair! his loving eye sees through all evil good. man's life is but a breath; but lo with him to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, are one one in the cycle of eternal time that hath beginning none, nor any end. the earth revolving round her sire, the sun, measures the flying year of mortal man, but who shall measure god's eternal year? the unbegotten, everlasting god; unmade, eternal, all-pervading power; center and source of all things, high and low, maker and master of the universe-- ah, nay, the mighty universe itself! all things in nature bear god's signature so plainly writ that he who runs may read. we know not what life is; how may we know death--what it is, or what may lie beyond? whoso forgets his god forgets himself. let me not blindly judge my brother man: there is but one just judge; there is but one who knows the hearts of men. him let us praise-- not with blind prayer, or idle, sounding psalms-- but let us daily in our daily works, praise god by righteous deeds and brother-love. go forth into the forest and observe-- for men believe their eyes and doubt their ears-- the creeping vine, the shrub, the lowly bush, the dwarfed and stunted trees, the bent and bowed, and here and there a lordly oak or elm, and o'er them all a tall and princely pine. all struggle upward, but the many fail; the low dwarfed by the shadows of the great, the stronger basking in the genial sun. observe the myriad fishes of the seas-- the mammoths and the minnows of the deep. behold the eagle and the little wren, the condor on his cliff, the pigeon-hawk, the teal, the coot, the broad-winged albatross. turn to the beasts in forest and in field-- the lion, the lynx, the mammoth and the mouse, the sheep, the goat, the bullock and the horse, the fierce gorillas and the chattering apes-- progenitors and prototypes of man. not only differences in genera find, but grades in every kind and every class. i would not doom to serfdom or to toil one race, one caste, one class, or any man: give every honest man an honest chance; protect alike the rich man and the poor; let not the toiler live upon a crust while croesus' bread is buttered on both sides. o people's king and shepherd, thronèd law, strike down the monsters of monopoly. lift up thy club, o mighty hercules! behold thy "labors" yet unfinished are: tear off thy nessus shirt and bare thine arms. the numean lion fattens on our flocks; the lernean hydra coils around our farms, our towns, our mills, our mines, our factories; the triple monster geryon lives again, grown quadruple, and over all our plains and thousand hills his fattening oxen feed. stymphalean buzzards ravage round our fields; the augean stables reeking stench the land; the hundred-headed monster cerberus, that throttled greece and ravaged hapless france, hath broke from hell and howls for human blood. lift up thy knotted club, o hercules! strike swift and sure: crush down the hydra's heads; throttle the numean lion: strike! nor spare the monster geryon or the buzzard-beaks. clean the augean stables if thou can'st; but hurl the hundred-headed monster down headlong to hades: chain him; make thee sure he shall not burst the bonds of hell again. to you, o chosen makers of the laws, the nation looks--and shall it look in vain? will ye sit idle, or in idle wind blow out your zeal, and crack your party whips, or drivel dotage, while the crisis cries-- while all around the dark horizon loom clouds thunder-capped that bode a hurricane? sleep ye as slept the "notables" of france, while under them an hundred Ætnas hissed and spluttered sulphur, gathering for the shock? be ye our hercules--and lynceus-eyed: still ye the storm or ere the storm begin-- ere "liberty" take justice by the throat, and run moon-mad a malay murder-muck, throttle the "trusts", and crush the coils combined that crack our bones and fatten on our fields. strike down the hissing heads of anarchy: strike swift and hard, nor parley with the fiend mothered of hell and father of all fiends-- fell monster with an hundred bloody mouths, and every mouth an hundred hissing tongues, and every tongue drips venom from his fangs. protect the toiling millions by just laws; let honest labor find its sure reward; let willing hands find work and honest bread. so frame the laws that every honest man may find his home protected and his craft. let liberty and order walk hand in hand with justice: happy trio! let them rule. put up the bars: bar out the pauper swarms alike from asia's huts and europe's hives. let charity begin at home. in vain will we bar out the swarms from europe's hives and asia's countless lepers, if our ports are free to all the products of their hands. put up the bars: bar out the pauper hordes; bar out their products that compete with ours: give honest toil at home an honest chance: build up our own and keep our coin at home. in vain our mines pour forth their wealth of gold and silver, if by every ship it sail for london, paris, birmingham or berlin. we have been prodigal. the days are past when virgin acres wanted willing hands, when fertile empires lay in wilderness waiting the teeming millions of the world. lo where the indian and the bison roamed--lords of the prairies boundless as the sea--but twenty years ago, behold the change! homesteads and hamlets, flocks and lowing herds, railways and cities, miles of rustling corn, and leagues on leagues of waving fields of gold. let wise men teach and honest men proclaim the mutual dependence of the rich and poor; for if the wealthy profit by the poor, the poor man profits ever by the rich. wealth builds our churches and our colleges; wealth builds the mills that grind the million's bread; wealth builds the factories that clothe the poor; wealth builds the railways and the million ride. god hath so willed the toiling millions reap the golden harvest that the rich have sown. six feet of earth make all men even; lo the toilers are the rich man's heirs at last. but there be men would grumble at their lot, even if it were a corner-lot on broadway. we stand upon the shoulders of the past. who knoweth not the past how may he know the folly or the wisdom of to-day? for by comparison we weigh the good, and by comparison all evil weigh. "what can we reason, but from what we know?" let honest men look back an hundred years-- nay, fifty, and behold the wondrous change. where wooden tubs like sluggards sailed the sea, steam-ships of steel like greyhounds course the main; where lumbering coach and wain and wagon toiled through mud and mire and rut and rugged way, the cushioned train a mile a minute flies. then by slow coach the message went and came, but now by lightning bridled to man's use we flash our silent thoughts from sea to sea; nay, under ocean's depths from shore to shore; and talk by telephone to distant ears. the dreams of yesterday are deeds to-day. our frugal mothers spun with tedious toil, and wove the homespun cloth for all their fold; their needles plied by weary fingers sewed. behold, the humming factory spins and weaves, the singing "singer" sews with lightning speed. our fathers sowed their little fields by hand, and reaped with bended sickles and bent backs; by hand they bound the sheaves of wheat and rye; with flails they threshed and winnowed in the wind. now by machines we sow and reap and bind; by steam we thresh and sack the bounteous grain. these are but few of all the million ways whereby man's toil is lightened and he hath gained tenfold in comfort, luxury and ease. for these and more the millions that enjoy may thank the wise and wealthy few who gave. if the rich are richer the poor are richer too. a narrow demagogue i count the man who cries to-day--_"progress and poverty"_; as if a thousand added comforts made the poor man poorer and his lot the worse. 'tis but a new toot on the same old horn that brayed in ancient greece and babylon, and now amid the ruined walls of rome lies buried fathoms deep in dead men's dust. _"progress and poverty!"_ man, hast thou traced the blood that throbs commingled in thy veins? over thy shoulder hast thou cast a glance on thine old celtic-saxon-norman sires-- huddled in squalid huts on beds of straw? barefooted churls swine-herding in the fens, bare-legged cowherds in their cow-skin coats, wearing the collars of their thane or eorl, his serfs, his slaves, even as thy dog is thine; harried by hunger, pillaged, ravaged, slain, by viking robbers and the warring jarls; oft glad like hunted swine to fill their maws with herbs and acorns. _"progress and poverty!"_ the humblest laborer in our mills or mines is royal thane beside those slavish churls; the frugal farmer in our land to-day lives better than their kings--himself a king. lo every age refutes old errors still, and still begets new errors for the next; but all the creeds of politics or priests can't make one error truth, one truth a lie. there is no religion higher than the truth; men make the creeds, but god ordains the law. above all cant, all arguments of men, above all superstitions, old or new, above all creeds of every age and clime, stands the eternal truth--the creed of creeds. sweet is the lute to him who hath not heard the prattle of his children at his knees: ah, he is rich indeed whose humble home contains a frugal wife and sweet content. heloise i saw a light on yester-night-- a low light on the misty lea; the stars were dim and silence grim sat brooding on the sullen sea. from out the silence came a voice-- a voice that thrilled me through and through, and said, "alas, is this your choice? for he is false and i was true." and in my ears the passing years will sadly whisper words of rue: forget--and yet--can i forget that one was false and one was true? change change is the order of the universe. worlds wax and wane; suns die and stars are born. two atoms of cosmic dust unite, cohere-- and lo the building of a world begun. on all things--high or low, or great or small-- earth, ocean, mountain, mammoth, midge and man, on mind and matter--lo perpetual change-- god's fiat--stamped! the very bones of man change as he grows from infancy to age. his loves, his hates, his tastes, his fancies, change. his blood and brawn demand a change of food; his mind as well: the sweetest harp of heaven were hateful if it played the selfsame tune forever, and the fairest flower that gems the garden, if it bloomed throughout the year, would blush unsought. the most delicious fruits pall on our palate if we taste too oft, and hyblan honey turns to bitter gall. perpetual winter is a reign of gloom; perpetual summer hardly pleases more. behold the esquimau--the hottentot: this doomed to regions of perpetual ice, and that to constant summer's heat and glow: inferior both, both gloomy and unblessed. the home of happiness and plenty lies where autumn follows summer and the breath of spring melts into rills the winter's snows. how gladly, after summer's blazing suns, we hail the autumn frosts and autumn fruits: how blithesome seems the fall of feathery snow when winter comes with merry clang of bells: and after winter's reign of ice and storm how glad we hail the robins of the spring. for god hath planted in the hearts of men the love of change, and sown the seeds of change in earth and air and sea and shoreless space. day follows night and night the dying day, and every day--and every hour--is change; from when on dewy hills the rising dawn sprinkles her mists of silver in the east, till in the west the golden dust up-wheels behind the chariot of the setting sun; from when above the hills the evening star sparkles a diamond 'mong the grains of gold, until her last faint flicker on the sea. the voices of the hoar and hurrying years cry from the silence--"change!--perpetual change!" man's heart responding throbs--"perpetual change," and grinds like a mill-stone: wanting grists of change it grinds and grinds upon its troubled self. behold the flowers that spring and bloom and fade. behold the blooming maid: the song of larks is in her warbling throat; the blue of heaven is in her eyes; her loosened tresses fall a shower of gold on shoulders tinged with rose; her form a seraph's and her gladsome face a benediction. lo beneath her feet the loving crocus bursts in sudden bloom. fawn-eyed and full of gentleness she moves-- a sunbeam on the lawn. the hearts of men follow her footsteps. he whose sinewy arms might burst through bars of steel like bands of straw, caught in the net of her unloosened hair, a helpless prisoner lies and loves his chains. blow, ye soft winds, from sandal-shaded isle, and bring the _mogra's_ breath and orange-bloom. fly, fleet-winged doves, to ponce de leon's spring, and in your bills bring her the pearls of youth; for lo the fingers of relentless time weave threads of silver in among the gold, and seam her face with pain and carking care, till, bent and bowed, the shriveled hands of death reach from the welcome grave and draw her in. fido hark, the storm is raging high; beat the breakers on the coast, and the wintry waters cry like the wailing of a ghost. on the rugged coast of maine stands the frugal farmer's cot: what if drive the sleet and rain? john and hannah heed it not. on the hills the mad winds roar, and the tall pines toss and groan; round the headland--down the shore-- stormy spirits shriek and moan. inky darkness wraps the sky; not a glimpse of moon or star; and the stormy-petrels cry out along the harbor-bar. seated by their blazing hearth-- john and hannah--snug and warm-- what if darkness wrap the earth? drive the sleet and howl the storm! let the stormy-petrels fly! let the moaning breakers beat! hark! i hear an infant cry and the patter of baby-feet: and hannah listened as she spoke, but only heard the driving rain, as on the cottage-roof it broke and pattered on the window-pane. and she sat knitting by the fire while pussy frolicked at her feet; and ever roared the tempest higher, and ever harder the hailstones beat. "hark! the cry--it comes again!" "nay, it is the winds that wail, and the patter on the pane of the driving sleet and hail" replied the farmer as he piled the crackling hemlock on the coals, and lit his corn-cob pipe and smiled the smile of sweet contented souls. aye, let the storm rave o'er the earth; their kine are snug in barn and byre; the apples sputter on the hearth, the cider simmers on the fire. but once again at midnight high, she heard in dreams, through wind and sleet, an infant moan, an infant cry, and the patter of baby-feet. half-waking from her dreams she turned and heard the driving wind and rain; still on the hearth the fagots burned, and hail beat on the window-pane. john rose as wont, at dawn of day; the earth was white with frozen sleet; and lo his faithful fido lay dead on the door-stone at his feet. the reign of reason the day of truth is dawning. i behold o'er darksome hills the trailing robes of gold and silent footsteps of the gladsome dawn. the morning breaks by sages long foretold; truth comes to set upon the world her throne. men lift their foreheads to the rising sun, and lo the reign of reason is begun. fantastic phantasms fly before the light-- pale, gibbering ghosts and ghouls and goblin fears: man who hath walked in sleep--what thousands years? groping among the shadows of the night, moon-struck and in a weird somnambulism, mumbling some cunning cant or catechism, thrilled by the electric magic of the skies-- sun-touched by truth--awakes and rubs his eyes. old superstition, mother of cruel creeds, o'er all the earth hath sown her dragon-teeth. lo centuries on centuries the seeds grew rank, and from them all the haggard breeds of hate and fear and hell and cruel death. and still her sunken eyes glare on mankind; her livid lips grin horrible; her hands, shriveled to bone and sinew, clutch all lands and with blind fear lead on or drive the blind. ah ignorance and fear go hand in hand, twin-born, and broadcast scatter hate and thorns, they people earth with ghosts and hell with horns, and sear the eyes of truth with burning brand. behold, the serried ranks of truth advance, and stubborn science shakes her shining lance full in the face of stolid ignorance. but superstition is a monster still-- an hydra we may scotch but hardly kill; for if with sword of truth we lop a head, how soon another groweth in its stead! all men are slaves. yea, some are slave to wine and some to women, some to shining gold, but all to habit and to customs old. around our stunted souls old tenets twine and it is hard to straighten in the oak the crook that in the sapling had its start: the callous neck is glad to wear the yoke; nor reason rules the head, but aye the heart: the head is weak, the throbbing heart is strong; but where the heart is right the head is not far wrong. men have been learning error age on age, and superstition is their heritage bequeathed from age to age and sire to son since the dim history of the world begun. trust paves the way for treachery to tread; under the cloak of virtue vices creep; fools chew the chaff while cunning eats the bread, and wolves become the shepherds of the sheep. the mindless herd are but the cunning's tools; for ages have the learned of the schools furnished pack-saddles for the backs of fools. pale superstition loves the gloom of night; truth, like a diamond, ever loves the light. but still 'twere wrong to speak but in abuse, for priests and popes have had, and have, their use. yea, superstition since the world began hath been an instrument to govern man: for men were brutes, and brutal fear was given to chain the brute till reason came from heaven. aye, men were beasts for lo how many ages! and only fear held them in chains and cages. wise men were priests, and gladly i accord they were the priests and prophets of the lord; for love was lust and o'er all earth's arena hell-fire alone could tame the wild hyena. all history is the register, we find, of the crimes and lusts and sufferings of mankind; and there are still dark lands where it is well that superstition wear the horns of hell, and hold her torches o'er the brutal head, and fright the beast with fire and goblin dread till reason come the darkness to dispel. how hard it is for mortals to unlearn beliefs bred in the marrow of their bones! how hard it is for mortals to discern the truth that preaches from the silent stones, the silent hills, the silent universe, while error cries in sanctimonious tones that all the light of life and god is hers! lo in the midst we stand: we cannot see either the dark beginning or the end, or where our tottering footsteps turn or trend in the vast orbit of eternity. let reason be our light--the only light that god hath given unto benighted man, wherewith to see a glimpse of his vast plan and stars of hope that glimmer on our night. lo all-pervading unity is his; lo all-pervading unity is he: one mighty heart throbs in the earth and sea, in every star through heaven's immensity, and god in all things breathes, in all things is. god's perfect order rules the vast expanse, and love is queen and all the realms are hers; but strike one planet from the universe and all is chaos and unbridled chance. and is there life beyond this life below? aye, is death death?--or but a happy change from night to light--on angel wings to range, and sing the songs of seraphs as we go? alas, the more we know the less we know we know. god hath laid down the limits we cannot pass; and it is well he giveth us no glass wherewith to see beyond the present glance, else we might die a thousand deaths perchance before we lay our bones beneath the grass. what is the soul, and whither will it fly? we only know that matter cannot die, but lives and lived through all eternity, and ever turns from hoary age to youth. and is the soul not worthier than the dust? so in his providence we put our trust; and so we humbly hope, for god is just-- father all-wise, unmoved by wrath or ruth: what then is certain--what eternal? truth, almighty god, time, space and cosmic dust. love will find seek ye the fairest lily of the field, the fairest lotus that in lakelet lies, the fairest rose that ever morn revealed, and love will find--from other eyes concealed-- a fairer flower in some fair woman's eyes. list ye the lark that warbles to the morn, the sweetest note that linnet ever sung, or trembling lute in tune with silver horn, and love will list--and laugh your lute to scorn-- a sweeter lute in some fair woman's tongue. seek ye the dewy perfume seaward blown from flowering orange-groves to passing ships; nay, sip the nectared dew of helicon, and love will find--and claim it all his own-- a sweeter dew on some fair woman's lips. seek ye a couch of softest eider-down, the silken floss that baby birdling warms, or shaded moss with blushing roses strown, and love will find--when they are all alone-- a softer couch in some fair woman's arms. an old english oak silence is the voice of mighty things. in silence dropped the acorn in the rain; in silence slept till sun-touched. wondrous life peeped from the mold and oped its eyes on morn. up-grew in silence through a thousand years the titan-armed, gnarl-jointed, rugged oak, rock-rooted. through his beard and shaggy locks soft breezes sung and tempests roared: the rain a thousand summers trickled down his beard; a thousand winters whitened on his head; yet spake he not. he, from his coigne of hills, beheld the rise and fall of empire, saw the pageantry and perjury of kings, the feudal barons and the slavish churls, the peace of peasants; heard the merry song of mowers singing to the swing of scythes, the solemn-voiced, low-wailing funeral dirge winding slow-paced with death to humble graves; and heard the requiem sung for coffined kings. saw castles rise and castles crumble down, abbeys up-loom and clang their solemn bells, and heard the owl hoot ruin on their walls: beheld a score of battle fields corpse-strewn-- blood-fertiled with ten thousand flattered fools who, but to please the vanity of one, marched on hurrahing to the doom of death-- and spake not, neither sighed nor made a moan. saw from the blood of heroes roses spring, and where the clangor of steel-sinewed war roared o'er embattled rage, heard gentle peace to bleating hills and vales of rustling gold flute her glad notes from morn till even-tide. grim with the grime of a thousand years he stood-- grand in his silence, mighty in his years. under his shade the maid and lover wooed; under his arms their children's children played and lambkins gamboled; at his feet by night the heart-sick wanderer laid him down and died, and he looked on in silence. silent hours in ghostly pantomime on tip-toe tripped the stately minuet of the passing years, until the horologe of time struck _one_. black thunder growled and from his throne of gloom fire-flashed the night with hissing bolt, and lo, heart-split, the giant of a thousand years uttered one voice and like a titan fell, crashing one hammer-clang, and passed away. the legend of the falls[cg] [cg] _an-pe-tu sa-pa_--clouded day--was the name of the dakota mother who committed suicide, as related in this legend, by plunging over the falls of st. anthony. schoolcraft calls her "_ampata sapa_." _ampata_ is not dakota. there are several versions of this legend, all agreeing in the main points. [read at the celebration of the old settlers of hennepin county, at the academy of music, minneapolis, july , .] [_the numerals refer to notes in appendix._] on the spirit-island [ch] sitting under midnight's misty moon, lo i see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one! slumber wraps the silent city, and the droning mills are dumb; one lone whippowil's shrill ditty calls her mate that ne'er will come. sadly moans the mighty river, foaming down the fettered falls, where of old he thundered ever o'er abrupt and lofty walls. great _unktéhee_--god of waters--lifts no more his mighty head; fled he with the timid otters?--lies he in the cavern dead? hark!--the waters hush their sighing and the whippowil her call, through the moon-lit mists are flying dusky shadows silent all. lo from out the waters foaming--from the cavern deep and dread-- through the glamour and the gloaming comes a spirit of the dead. sad she seems; her tresses raven on her tawny shoulders rest; sorrow on her brow is graven, in her arms a babe is pressed. hark!--she chants the solemn story--sings the legend sad and old, and the river wrapt in glory listens while the tale is told. would you hear the legend olden hearken while i tell the tale-- shorn, alas, of many a golden, weird dakota chant and wail. [ch] the small island of rock a few rods below the falls, was called by the dakotas _wanagee we-ta_--spirit-island. they say the spirit of _anpetu sapa_ sits upon that island at night and pours forth her sorrow in song. they also say that from time out of mind, war-eagles nested on that island, until the advent of white men frightened them away. this seems to be true. see _carver's travels_ (london, ), p. . the legend tall was young wanâta, stronger than _heyóka's_ [ ] giant form,-- laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm. when _wakinyan_ [ ] flashed and thundered, when unktéhee raved and roared, all but brave _wanâta_ wondered, and the gods with fear implored. when the war-whoop shrill resounded, calling friends to meet the foe, from the _teepee_ swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow. in the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew, flashed his fiery eyes with anger,--many a stealthy foe he slew. hunter swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear, overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair. loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain; many a heart with sighs was laden for the love it could not gain. so they called the brave "_ska câpa_;"[ci] but the fairest of the band-- moon-faced, meek anpétu-sâpa--won the hunter's heart and hand. [ci] or _capa ska_--white beaver. white beavers are very rare, very cunning and hard to catch. from the wars with triumph burning, from the chase of bison fleet, to his lodge the brave returning, spread his trophies at her feet. love and joy sat in the _teepee_; him a black-eyed boy she bore; but alas, she lived to weep a love she lost forevermore. for the warriors chose wanâta first _itáncan_[cj] of the band. at the council-fire he sat a leader brave, a chieftain grand. proud was fair anpétu-sâpa, and her eyes were glad with joy; proud was she and very happy with her warrior and her boy. but alas, the fatal honor that her brave wanâta won, brought a bitter woe upon her,--hid with clouds the summer sun. for among the brave dakotas wives bring honor to the chief. on the vine-clad minnesota's banks he met the scarlet leaf. [cj] _e-tan-can_--chief. young and fair was apè-dúta[ck]--full of craft and very fair; proud she walked a queen of beauty with her dark, abundant hair. in her net of hair she caught him--caught wanâta with her wiles; all in vain his wife besought him--begged in vain his wonted smiles. apè-dúta ruled the _teepee_--all wanâta's smiles were hers; when the lodge was wrapped in sleep a star[cl] beheld the mother's tears. long she strove to do her duty for the black-eyed babe she bore; but the proud, imperious beauty made her sad forevermore. still she dressed the skins of beaver, bore the burdens, spread the fare; patient ever, murmuring never, though her cheeks were creased with care. in the moon _magâ-o kâda_, [ ] twice an hundred years ago-- ere the "black robe's"[cm] sacred shadow stalked the prairies' pathless snow-- down the swollen, rushing river, in the sunset's golden hues, from the hunt of bear and beaver came the band in swift canoes. on the queen of fairy islands, on the _wita wâstè's_ [cn] shore camped wanâta, on the highlands just above the cataract's roar. many braves were with wanâta; apè-dúta, too, was there, and the sad anpétu-sâpa spread the lodge with wonted care. then above the leafless prairie leaped the fat-faced, laughing moon, and the stars--the spirits fairy--walked the welkin one by one. swift and silent in the gloaming on the waste of waters blue, speeding downward to the foaming, shot wanâta's birch canoe. in it stood anpétu-sâpa--in her arms her sleeping child; like a wailing norse-land _drapa_ [co] rose her death-song weird and wild: [ck] _a-pe_--leaf,--_duta_--scarlet,--scarlet leaf [cl] stars, the dakotas say, are the faces of the departed watching over their friends and relatives on earth. [cm] the dakotas called the jesuit priests "black robes," from the color of their vestments. [cn] _wee-tah wah-stay_--beautiful island,--the dakota name for nicollet island, just above the falls. [co] _drapa_, a norse funeral wail in which the virtues of the deceased are recounted. [illustration: anpetu-sapa] _mihihna_,[cp] _mihihna_, my heart is stone; the light is gone from my longing eyes; the wounded loon in the lake alone her death-song sings to the moon and dies. _mihihna, mihihna_, the path is long, the burden is heavy and hard to bear; i sink--i die, and my dying song is a song of joy to the false one's ear. _mihihna, mihihna_, my young heart flew far away with my brave to the bison-chase; to the battle it went with my warrior true, and never returned till i saw his face. _mihihna, mihihna_, my brave was glad when he came from the chase of the roebuck fleet; sweet were the words that my hunter said as his trophies he laid at anpétu's feet. _mihihna, mihihna_, the boy i bore-- when the robin sang and my brave was true, i can bear to look on his face no more, for he looks, _mihihna_, so much like you. _mihihna, mihihna_, the scarlet leaf has robbed my boy of his father's love; he sleeps in my arms--he will find no grief in the star-lit lodge in the land above. _mihihna, mihihna_, my heart is stone; the light is gone from my longing eyes; the wounded loon in the lake alone her death-song sings to the moon and dies. [cp] _mee-heen-yah_--my husband. swiftly down the turbid torrent, as she sung her song she flew; like a swan upon the current, dancing rode the light canoe. hunters hurry in the gloaming; all in vain wanâta calls; singing through the surges foaming, lo she plunges o'er the falls. long they searched the sullen river--searched for leagues along the shore, bark or babe or mother never saw the sad dakotas more; but at night or misty morning oft the hunters heard her song, oft the maidens heard her warning in their mellow mother-tongue. on the bluffs they sat enchanted till the blush of beamy dawn; spirit isle, they say, is haunted, and they call the spot wakân[cq] many summers on the highland in the full moon's golden glow-- in the woods on fairy island,[cr] walked a snow-white fawn and doe-- spirits of the babe and mother sadly seeking evermore for a father's love another turned away with evil power. sometimes still when moonbeams shimmer through the maples on the lawn, in the gloaming and the glimmer walk the silent doe and fawn; and on spirit isle or near it, under midnight's misty moon, oft is seen the mother's spirit, oft is heard her mournful tune. [cq] pronounced walk-on,--sacred, inhabited by a spirit. [cr] fairy island,--_wita-waste_--nicollet island. chickadee chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee! that was the song that he sang to me--sang from his perch in the willow tree-- chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee. my little brown bird, the song that i heard was a happier song than the minstrels sing-- a paean of joy and a carol of spring; and my heart leaped throbbing and sang with thee chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee. my birdie looked wise with his little black eyes, as he peeked and peered from his perch at me with a throbbing throat and a flutter of glee, as if he would say-- sing trouble away, chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee. only one note from his silver throat; only one word from my wise little bird; but a sweeter note or a wiser word from the tongue of mortal i never have heard, than my little philosopher sang to me from his bending perch in the willow tree-- chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee. come foul or fair, come trouble and care-- no--never a sigh or a thought of despair! for my little bird sings in my heart to me, as he sang from his perch in the willow tree-- chickadee, chickadee, chickadee dee: chickadee-dee, chickadee-dee; chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee. anthem [april, .] spirit of liberty, wake in the land! sons of our forefathers, raise the strong hand! burn in each heart anew liberty's fires; wave the old flag again, flag of our sires; glow all thy stars again, banner of light! wave o'er us forever, emblem of might; god for our banner! god for the right! minions of tyranny, tremble and kneel! the sons of the pilgrims are sharpening their steel. pledge for our land again honor and life; wave the old flag again; on to the strife! shades of our forefathers, witness our fright! wave o'er us forever, emblem of might; god for our banner! god for our right! hurrah for the volunteers [may, .] come then, brave men, from the land of lakes with steady steps and cheers; our country calls, as the battle breaks, on the northwest pioneers. let the eagle scream, and the bayonet gleam! hurrah for the volunteers! charge of "the black-horse" [first battle of bull run.] our columns are broken, defeated, and fled; we are gathered, a few from the flying and dead, where the green flag is up and our wounded remain imploring for water and groaning in pain. lo the blood-spattered bosom, the shot-shattered limb, the hand-clutch of fear as the vision grows dim, the half-uttered prayer and the blood-fettered breath, the cold marble brow and the calm face of death. o proud were these forms at the dawning of morn, when they sprang to the call of the shrill bugle-horn: there are mothers and wives that await them afar; god help them!--is this then the glory of war? but hark!--hear the cries from the field of despair; "the black-horse" are charging the fugitives there; they gallop the field o'er the dying and dead, and their blades with the blood of their victims are red. the cries of the fallen and flying are vain; they saber the wounded and trample the slain; and the plumes of the riders wave red in the sun, as they stoop for the stroke and the murder goes on. they halt for a moment--they form and they stand; then with sabers aloft they ride down on our band like the samiel that sweeps o'er arabia's sand. "halt!--down with your sabers!--the dying are here! let the foeman respect while the friend sheds a tear." nay; the merciless butchers were thirsting for blood, and mad for the murder still onward they rode. "_stand firm and be ready_!"--our brave, gallant few have faced to the foe, and our rifles are true; fire!--a score of grim riders go down in a breath at the flash of our guns--in the tempest of death! they wheel, and they clutch in despair at the mane! they reel in their saddles and fall to the plain! the riderless steeds, wild with wounds and with fear, dash away o'er the field in unbridled career; their stirrups swing loose and their manes are all gore from the mad cavaliers that shall ride them no more. of the hundred so bold that rode down on us there but few rode away with the tale of despair; their proud, plumèd comrades so reckless, alas, slept their long, dreamless sleep on the blood-spattered grass. only a private killed [the soldier was louis mitchell, of co. , st minn. vols., killed in a skirmish, near ball's bluff, october , .] "we've had a brush," the captain said, "and rebel blood we've spilled; we came off victors with the loss of only a _private_ killed." "ah," said the orderly--"it was hot,"-- then he breathed a heavy breath-- "poor fellow!--he was badly shot, then bayoneted to death." and now was hushed the martial din; the saucy foe had fled; they brought the private's body in; i went to see the dead; for i could not think our rebel foes-- so valiant in the van-- so boastful of their chivalry-- could kill a wounded man. a musket ball had pierced his thigh-- a frightful, crushing wound-- and then with savage bayonets they pinned him to the ground. one deadly thrust drove through the heart, another through the head; three times they stabbed his pulseless breast when he lay cold and dead. his hair was matted with his gore, his hands were clinched with might, as if he still his musket bore so firmly in the fight. he had grasped the foemen's bayonets their murderous thrusts to fend: they raised the coat-cape from his face, and lo--it was my friend! think what a shudder chilled my heart! 'twas but the day before we laughed together merrily, as we talked of days of yore. "how happy we shall be," he said, "when the war is o'er, and when with victory's song and victory's tread we all march home again." ah little he dreamed--that soldier brave so near his journey's goal-- how soon a heavenly messenger would claim his christian soul. but he fell like a hero--fighting, and hearts with grief are filled; and honor is his,--tho' the captain says "only a _private_ killed." i knew him well,--he was my friend; he loved our land and laws, and he fell a blessed martyr to our country's holy cause; and i know a cottage in the west where eyes with tears are filled as they read the careless telegram-- "only a _private_ killed." comrades, bury him under the oak, wrapped in his army-blue; he is done with the battle's din and smoke, with drill and the proud review. and the time will come ere long, perchance, when our blood will thus be spilled, and what care we if the captain say-- "only a _private_ killed." for the glorious old flag beckons. we have pledged her heart and hand, and we'll brave even death to rescue our dear old fatherland. we ask not praise--nor honors, then--as each grave is filled-- what care we if the captain say-- "only a _private_ killed." do they think of us? [october, , after the battle of ball's bluff.] do they think of us, say--in the far distant west-- on the prairies of peace, in the valleys of rest? on the long dusty march when the suntide is hot, o say, are their sons and their brothers forgot? are our names on their lips, is our comfort their care when they kneel to the god of our fathers in prayer? when at night on their warm, downy pillows they lie, wrapped in comfort and ease, do they think of us, say? when the rain patters down on the roof overhead, do they think of the camps without shelter or bed? ah many a night on the cold ground we've lain-- chilled, chilled to the heart by the merciless rain, and yet there stole o'er us the peace of the blest, for our spirits went back to our homes in the west. o we think of them, and it sharpens our steel, when the battle-smoke rolls and the grim cannon peal, when forward we rush at the shrill bugle's call to the hail-storm of conflict where many must fall. when night settles down on the slaughter-piled plain, and the dead are at rest and the wounded in pain, do they think of us, say, in the far distant west-- on the prairies of peace, in the valleys of rest? aye, comrades, we know that our darlings are there with their hearts full of hope and their souls full of prayer, and it steadies our rifles--it steels every breast-- the thought of our loved ones at home in the west-- on the prairies of peace, in the valleys of rest. charge of fremont's body-guard on they ride--on they ride-- only three hundred,-- ride the brave body-guard, from the "prairie scouts" sundered: two thousand riflemen, ambushed on either side, the signal of slaughter bide: ho! has the farmer-guide led them astray and lied? how can they pass the wood? on they ride--on they ride-- fearlessly, readily, silently, steadily ride the brave body-guard led by zagonyi. up leap the southrons there; loud breaks the battle-blare; now swings his hat in air; flashes his saber bare: "_draw sabers;--follow me_!" shouts the brave captain: "_union and liberty_!" thunders the captain. three hundred sabers flash; three hundred guardsmen dash on to the fierce attack; into the _cul-de-sac_ plunge the three hundred. yell the mad ambushed pack-- two thousand rifles crack at the three hundred. dire is the death they deal, gleams the steel--volleys peal-- horses plunge--riders reel; sabers and bayonets clash; guns in their faces flash; blue coats are spattered red-- fifty brave guards are dead-- zagonyi is still ahead, swinging his hat in air, flashing his saber: "steady men;--steady there; forward--battalion!" on they plunge--on they dash thro' the dread gantlet; death gurgles in the gash of furious-dealt saber-slash; over them the volleys crash thro' the trees like a whirlwind. they pass through the fire of death; pant riders and steeds for breath; "_halt!_" cried the captain then he looked up the hill; there on the summit still the "third company" paltered. right through the fire of hell, where fifty brave guardsmen fell, zagonyi had ridden well; foley had faltered. flashed like a flame of fire-- flashed with a menace dire-- flashed with a yell of ire the sword of the captain. kennedy saw the flash, and ordered the "third" to dash gallantly forward: "come on, boys, for liberty! forward, and follow me! remember kentucky!" into the hell they broke-- into the fire and smoke-- dealing swift saber-stroke-- the gallant kentuckians. horses plunge, riders lunge heavily forward; over the fallen they ride down to zagonyi's side, mowing a swath of death either side,--right and left piling the slaughtered! under the storm of lead, still hissing overhead, they re-formed the battle-line; then the brave captain said: "guardsmen: avenge our dead! _charge_!"--up the hill they go,-- right into the swarming foe! woe to the foemen--woe! see mad zagonyi there; streams on the wind his hair, flashes his saber bare; on they go--on they go; volleys flash, sabers clash, on they plunge, on they dash, following zagonyi into the hell again. hand to hand fight and die infantry, cavalry; grappled and mixed they lie-- infantry, cavalry: hurra!--the rebels fly! bravo!--three hundred! "forward and follow me!" shouted the captain; "union and liberty!" all the guards thundered. with mad hearts and sabers stout into the rebel-rout gallop the guardsmen, thundering their cry again, cleaving their foes in twain, piling the heaps of slain sabered and sundered. three hundred foes they slayed, glorious the charge they made, victorious the charge they made-- the gallant three hundred! let the crown-poet paid sing of the "light brigade" and "the wild charge they made" when "some one had blundered;" following the british bard, i sing of the body-guard-- the heroes that fought so hard-- where nobody blundered. hail, brave zagonyi--hail! all hail, the body-guard!-- the glorious-- the victorious-- the invincible three hundred. a million more [august, .] the nation calls aloud again, for freedom wounded writhes in pain. gird on your armor, northern men; drop scythe and sickle, square and pen; a million bayonets gleam and flash; a thousand cannon peal and crash; brothers and sons have gone before; a million more!--a million more! fire and sword!--aye, sword and fire! let war be fierce and grim and dire; your path be marked by flame and smoke, and tyrant's bones and fetters broke: stay not for foe's uplifted hand; sheathe not the sword; quench not the brand till freedom reign from shore to shore, or might 'mid ashes smoke and gore. if leader stay the vengeance-rod, let him beware the wrath of god; the maddened millions long his trust will crush his puny bones to dust, and all the law to guide their ire will be the law of blood and fire. come, then--the shattered ranks implore-- a million more--a million more! form and file and file and form; this war is but god's thunder-storm to purify our cankered land and strike the fetter from the hand. forced by grim fate our chief at last shall blow dear freedom's bugle-blast; and then shall rise from shore to shore four millions more--four millions more.[cs] [cs] there were four millions of slaves in the south when the war began. on reading president lincoln's letter to horace greeley, of date aug. , --"if i could save the union without freeing any slave, i would do it," etc. perish the power that, bowed to dust, still wields a tyrant's rod-- that dares not even then be just, and leave the rest with god. the dying veteran all-day-long the crash of cannon shook the battle-covered plain; all-day-long the frenzied foemen dashed against our lines in vain; all the field was piled with slaughter; now the lurid setting sun saw our foes in wild disorder, and the bloody day was won. foremost on our line of battle all-day-long a veteran stood-- stalwart, brawny, grim and steady, black with powder, smeared with blood; never flinched and never faltered in the deadliest storm of lead, and before his steady rifle lay a score of foemen dead. never flinched and never faltered till our shout of victory rose, till he saw defeat, disaster, overwhelmed our flying foes; then he trembled, then he tottered, gasped for breath and dropped his gun, staggered from the ranks and prostrate fell to the earth. his work was done. silent comrades gathered round him, and his captain sadly came, bathed his quivering lips with water, took his hand and spoke his name; and his fellow soldiers softly on his knapsack laid his head; then his eyes were lit with luster, and he raised his hand and said: "good-bye, comrades; farewell, captain! i am glad the day is won; i am mustered out, i reckon-- never mind-my part is done. we have marched and fought together till you seem like brothers all, but i hope again to meet you at the final bugle-call. "captain, write and tell my mother that she must not mourn and cry, for i never flinched in battle, and i do not fear to die. you may add a word for mary; tell her i was ever true. mary took a miff one sunday, and so i put on the "blue." "and i know she has repented, but i never let her see how it cut--her crusty answer-- when she turned away from me. i was never good at coaxing, so i didn't even try; but you tell her i forgive her, and she must not mourn and cry," then he closed his eyes in slumber, and his spirit passed away, and his comrades spread a blanket o'er his cold and silent clay. at dawn of morn they buried him, wrapped in his army-blue. on the bloody field of fair oaks sleeps the soldier tried and true. grierson's raid mount to horse--mount to horse; forward, battalion! gallop the gallant force; down with rebellion! over hill, creek and plain clatter the fearless-- dash away--splash away-- led by the peerless. carbines crack--foemen fly hither and thither; under the death-fire they falter and wither. burn the bridge--tear the track-- down with rebellion! cut the wires--cut the wires! forward, battalion! day and night--night and day, gallop the fearless-- swimming the rivers' floods-- led by the peerless; depots and powder-trains blazing and thundering masters and dusky slaves gazing and wondering. eight hundred miles they ride-- dauntless battalion-- down through the southern land mad with rebellion. into our lines they dash-- brave cavaliers-- greeting our flag with a thunder of cheers. the old flag [written july , .] have ye heard of fort donelson's desperate fight, where the giant northwest bared his arm for the right, where thousands so bravely went down in the slaughter, and the blood of the west ran as freely as water; where the rebel flag fell and our banner arose o'er an army of captured and suppliant foes? lo--torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder, the old flag is waving there prouder and prouder. heard ye of shiloh, where fierce beauregard o'erwhelmed us with numbers and pressed us so hard, till our veteran supporters came up to our aid and the tide of defeat and disaster was staid-- where like grain-sheaves the slaughtered were piled on the plain and the brave rebel johnston went down with the slain? lo--torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder, the old flag is waving there prouder and prouder. heard ye the cannon-roar down by stone river? saw ye the bleeding braves stagger and quiver? heard ye the shout and the roar and the rattle? and saw ye the desperate surging of battle? volley on volley and steel upon steel-- breast unto breast--how they lunge and they reel! lo--torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder, the old flag is waving there prouder and prouder. heard ye of vicksburg--the southern gibraltar, where the hands of our foemen built tyranny's altar, where their hosts are walled in by a cordon of braves, and the pits they have dug for defense are their graves, where the red bombs are bursting and hissing the shot, where the nine thunders death and the charge follows hot? lo--torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder, the old flag is waving there prouder and prouder. heard ye from gettysburg?--glory to god! bare your heads, o ye freemen, and kneel on the sod! praise the lord!--praise the lord!--it is done!--it is done! the battle is fought and the victory won! they first took the sword, and they fall by the sword; they are scattered and crushed by the hand of the lord! lo--torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder, the old flag is waving there prouder and prouder. gettysburg: charge of the first minnesota [written for and read at the camp fire of the g.a.r. department of minnesota, national encampment of the grand army of the republic, at minneapolis, june , .] ready and ripe for the harvest lay the acres of golden grain waving on hillock and hillside and bending along the plain. ready and ripe for the harvest two veteran armies lay waiting the signal of battle on the gettysburg hills that day. sharp rang the blast of the bugles calling the foe to the fray, and shrill from the enemy's cannon the demon shells shrieked as they flew; crashed and rumbled and roared our batteries ranged on the hill, rumbled and roared at the front the bellowing guns of the foe swelling the chorus of hell ever louder and deadlier still, and shrill o'er the roar of the cannon rose the yell of the rebels below, as they charged on our third corps advanced and crushed in the lines at a blow. leading his clamorous legions, flashing his saber in air, forward rode furious longstreet charging on round top there-- key to our left and center--key to the fate of the field-- leading his wild-mad southrons on to the lions' lair. red with the blood of our legions--red with the blood of our best, waiting the fate of the battle the lurid sun stood in the west. hid by the crest of the hills we lay at the right concealed, prone on the earth that shuddered under us there as we lay. thunder of cheers on the left!--dashing down on his stalwart bay, spurring his gallant charger till his foaming flanks ran blood, hancock, the star of our legions, rode down where our officers stood: "_by the left flank, double-quick, march!_"-- we sprang to our feet and away, like a fierce pack of hunger-mad wolves that pant for the blood of the prey. "_halt!_"--on our battery's flank we stood like a hedge-row of steel-- bearing the banner of freedom on the gettysburg hills that day. down at the marge of the valley our broken ranks stagger and reel, grimy with dust and with powder, wearied and panting for breath, flinging their arms in panic, flying the hail-storm of death. rumble of volley on volley of the enemy hard on the rear, yelling their wild, mad triumph, thundering cheer upon cheer, dotting the slope with slaughter and sweeping the field with fear. drowned is the blare of the bugle, lost is the bray of the drum, yelling, defiant, victorious, column on column they come. only a handful are we, thrown into the gap of our lines, holding the perilous breach where the fate of the battle inclines, only a handful are we--column on column they come. roared like the voice of a lion brave hancock fierce for the fray: "hurry the reserve battalions; bring every banner and gun: charge on the enemy, colvill, stay the advance of his lines: here--by the god of our fathers!--here shall the battle be won, or we'll die for the banner of freedom on the gettysburg hills today." shrill rang the voice of our colonel, the bravest and best of the brave: "_forward, the first minnesota! forward, and follow me, men!_" gallantly forward he strode, the bravest and best of the brave. two hundred and fifty and two--all that were left of us then-- two hundred and fifty and two fearless, unfaltering men dashed at a run for the enemy, sprang to the charge with a yell. on us their batteries thundered solid shot, grape shot and shell; never a man of us faltered, but many a comrade fell. "_forward, the first minnesota!_"--like tigers we sprang at our foes; grim gaps of death in our ranks, but ever the brave ranks close: down went our sergeant and colors--defiant our colors arose! "_fire_!" at the flash of our rifles--grim gaps in the ranks of our foes! "_forward, the first minnesota!_" our brave colonel cried as he fell gashed and shattered and mangled--"_forward_!" he cried as he fell. over him mangled and bleeding frenzied we sprang to the fight, over him mangled and bleeding we sprang to the jaws of hell. flashed in our faces their rifles, roared on the left and the right, swarming around us by thousands we fought them with desperate might. five times our banner went down--five times our banner arose, tattered and torn but defiant, and flapped in the face of our foes. hold them? we held them at bay, as a bear holds the hounds on his track, knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, we met them and staggered them back. desperate, frenzied, bewildered, blindly they fired on their own; like reeds in the whirl of the cyclone columns and colors went down. banner of stars on the right! hurrah! gallant gibbon is come! thunder of guns on the left! hurrah! 'tis our cannon that boom! solid-shot, grape-shot and canister crash like the cracking of doom. baffled, bewildered and broken the ranks of the enemy yield; panic-struck, routed and shattered they fly from the fate of the field. hold them? we held them at bay, as a bear holds the hounds on his track; knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder, we met them and staggered them back; two hundred and fifty and two, we held their mad thousands at bay, met them and baffled and broke them, turning the tide of the day; two hundred and fifty and two when the sun hung low in heaven, but ah! when the stars rode over we numbered but forty-seven: dead on the field or wounded the rest of our regiment lay; never a man of us faltered or flinched in the fire of the fray, for we bore the banner of freedom on the gettysburg hills that day. tears for our fallen comrades--cover their graves with flowers, for they fought and fell like spartans for this glorious land of ours. they fell, but they fell victorious, for the rebel ranks were riven, and over our land united--one nation from sea to sea, over the grave of treason, over millions of men made free, triumphant the flag of our fathers waves in the winds of heaven-- striped with the blood of her heroes she waves in the winds of heaven. tears for our fallen comrades--cover their graves with flowers, for they fought and fell like spartans for this glorious land of ours; and oft shall our children's children garland their graves and say: "they bore the banner of freedom on the gettysburg hills that day." address to the flag [after the battle of gettysburg.] float in the winds of heaven, o tattered flag! emblem of hope to all the misruled world: thy field of golden stars is rent and red-- dyed in the blood of brothers madly spilled by brother-hands upon the mother-soil. o fatal upas of the savage nile,[ct] transplanted hither--rooted--multiplied-- watered with bitter tears and sending forth thy venom-vapors till the land is mad, thy day is done. a million blades are swung to lay thy jungles open to the sun; a million torches fire thy blasted boles; a million hands shall drag thy fibers out and feed the fires till every root and branch lie in dead ashes. from the blackened soil, enriched and moistened with fraternal blood, beside the palm shall spring the olive-tree, and every breeze shall waft the happy song of freedom crowned with olive-twigs and flowers. yea, patriot-flag of our old patriot-sires, honored--victorious on an hundred fields where side by side for freedom's mother-land her southern sons and northern fighting fell, and side by side in glorious graves repose, [ct] african slavery. i see the dawn of glory grander still, when hand in hand upon this battle-field the blue-eyed maidens of the merrimac with dewy roses from the granite hills, and dark-eyed daughters from the land of palms with orange-blossoms from the broad st. johns, in solemn concert singing as they go, shall strew the graves of these fraternal dead. the day of triumph comes, o blood-stained flag! washed clean and lustrous in the morning light of a new era, thou shalt float again in more than pristine glory o'er the land peace-blest and re-united. on the seas thou shalt be honored to the farthest isle. the oppressed of foreign lands shall flock the shores to look upon and bless thee. mothers shall lift their infants to behold thee as a star new-born in heaven to light the darksome world. the children weeping round the desolate, sore-stricken mother in the saddened home whereto the father shall no more return, in future years will proudly boast the blood of him who bravely fell defending thee. and these misguided brothers who would tear thy starry field asunder and would trail their own proud flag and history in the dust, ere many years will bless thee, dear old flag, that thou didst triumph even over them. aye, even they with proudly swelling hearts will see the glory thou shalt shortly wear, and new-born stars swing in upon thy field in lustrous clusters. come, o glorious day of freedom crowned with peace. god's will be done! god's will is peace on earth--good-will to men. the chains all broken and the bond all free, o may this nation learn to war no more; yea, into plow-shares may these brothers beat their swords and into pruning-hooks their spears, clasp hands again, and plant these battle-fields with golden corn and purple-clustered vines, and side by side re-build the broken walls-- joined and cemented as one solid stone with patriot-love and christ's sweet charity. new-years address--january , [written for the st. paul pioneer.] good morning--good morning--a happy new year! we greet you, kind friends of the old _pioneer_; hope your coffee is good and your steak is well done, and you're happy as clams in the sand and the sun. the old year's a shadow--a shade of the past; it is gone with its toils and its triumphs so vast-- with its joys and its tears--with its pleasure and pain-- with its shouts of the brave and its heaps of the slain-- gone--and it cometh--no, never again. and as we look forth on the future so fair let us brush from the picture the visage of care; the error, the folly, the frown and the tear-- drop them all at the grave of the silent old year. has the heart been oppressed with a burden of woe? has the spirit been cowed by a merciless blow? has the tongue of the brave or the voice of the fair prayed to god and received no response to its prayer? look up!--'twas a shadow--the morning is here: a happy new year!--o, a happy new year! yet stay for a moment. we cannot forget the fields where the true and the traitor have met; when the old year came in we were trembling with fear lest freedom should fall in her glorious career; and the roar of the conflict was loud o'er the land where the traitor-flag waved in a rebel's red hand; but the god of the just led the hosts of the free, and victory marched from the north to the sea. behold--where the conflict was doubtful and dire-- there--on house-top and hill-top, on fortress and spire-- the old banner waves again higher and prouder, though torn by the shot and begrimed by the powder. god bless the brave soldiers that followed that flag through river and swamp, over mountain and crag-- on the wild charge triumphant--the sullen retreat-- on fields spread with victory or piled with defeat; god bless their true hearts for they stood like a wall, and saved us our country and saved us our all. but many a mother and many a daughter weep, alas, o'er the brave that went down in the slaughter. pile the monuments high--not on hill-top and plain-- to the glorious sons 'neath the old banner slain-- but over the land from the sea to the sea-- pile their monuments high in the hearts of the free. heaven bless the brave souls that are spared to return where the "lamp in the window" ceased never to burn-- where the vacant chair stood at the desolate hearth since the son shouldered arms or the father went forth. "peace!--peace!"--was the shout;--at the jubilant word wives and mothers went down on their knees to the lord! methinks i can see, through the vista of years-- from the memories of old such a vision appears-- a gray-haired old veteran in arm-chair at ease, with his grandchildren clustered intent at his knees, recounting his deeds with an eloquent tongue, and a fire that enkindles the hearts of the young; how he followed the flag from the first to the last-- on the long, weary march, in the battle's hot blast; how he marched under sherman from center to sea, or fought under grant in his battles with lee; and the old fire comes back to his eye as of yore, and his iron hand clutches his musket once more, as of old on the battle-field ghastly and red, when he sprang to the charge o'er the dying and dead; and the eyes of his listeners are gleaming with fire, as he points to that flag floating high on the spire. [illustration: and the eyes of his listeners are gleaming with fire as he points to that flag floating high on the spire.] heaven bless the new year that is just ushered in; may the rebels repent of their folly and sin, depart from their idols, extend the right hand, and pledge that the union forever shall stand. may they see that the rending of fetter and chain is _their_ triumph as well--their unspeakable gain; that the union dissevered and weltering in blood could yield them no profit and bode them no good. 'tis human to err and divine to forgive; let us walk after christ--bid the poor sinners live, and come back to the fold of the union once more, and we'll do as the prodigal's father of yore-- kill the well-fatted calf--(but we'll not do it twice) and invite them to dinner--and give them a slice. there's old johnny bull--what a terrible groan escapes when he thinks of his big "rebel loan"-- how the money went out with a nod and a grin, but the cotton--the cotton--it didn't come in. then he thinks of diplomacy--mason-slidell, and he wishes that both had been warming in hell, for he got such a rap from our little bill seward that the red nose he blows is right hard to be cured; and then the steam pirates he built and equipped, and boasted, you know, that they couldn't be whipped; but alas for his boast--johnny bull "caught a tartar," and now like a calf he is bawling for quarter. yes, bluff johnny bull will be tame as a yearling, beg pardon and humbly "come down" with his sterling. there's monsieur _l'escamoteur_[cu] over in france; he has had a clear field and a gay country dance down there in mexico--playing his tricks while we had a family "discussion wid sticks"; but the game is played out; don't you see it's so handy for grant and his boys to march over the grande. he twists his waxed moustache and looks very blue, and he says to himself, (what he wouldn't to you) "py tam--dair's mon poor leetle chappie--dutch max! _cornes du diable_[cv]--'e'll 'ave to make tracks or ve'll 'ave all dem tam yankee poys on our packs." monsieur l'empereur, if your max can get out with the hair of his head on--he'd better, no doubt. if you'll not take it hard, here's a bit of advice-- it is dangerous for big pigs to dance on the ice; they sometimes slip up and they sometimes fall in, and the ice you are on is exceedingly thin. you're _au fait_, i'll admit, at a sharp game of chance, but the devil himself couldn't always beat france. remember the fate of your uncle of yore, tread lightly, and keep very close to the shore. the giant republic--its future how vast! now, freed from the follies and sins of the past, [cu] the juggler. [cv] horns of the devil!--equivalent to the exclamation--the devil! it will tower to the zenith; the ice-covered sea and darien shall bound-mark the land of the free. behold how the landless, the poor and oppressed, flock in on our shores from the east and the west! let them come--bid them come--we have plenty of room; our forests shall echo, our prairies shall bloom; the iron horse, puffing his cloud-breath of steam, shall course every valley and leap every stream; new cities shall rise with a magic untold, while our mines yield their treasures of silver and gold, and prosperous, united and happy, we'll climb up the mountain of fame till the end of old time-- which, as i figure up, is a century hence: then we'll all go abroad without any expense; we'll capture a comet--the smart yankee race will ride on his tail through the kingdom of space, tack their telegraph wires to uranus and mars; yea, carry their arts to the ultimate stars, and flaunt the old flag at the suns as they pass, and astonish the devil himself with--their brass. and now, "gentle readers," i'll bid you farewell; i hope this fine poem will please you--and _sell_. you'll ne'er lack a friend if you ne'er lack a dime; may you never grow old till the end of old time; may you never be cursed with an itching for rhyme; for in spite of your physic, in spite of your plaster, the rash will break out till you go to disaster-- which you plainly can see is the case with my muse, for she scratches away though she's said her adieus. dear ladies, though last to receive my oblation, and last in the list of mosaic creation, the last is the best, and the last shall be first. through eve, sayeth moses, old adam was cursed; but i cannot agree with you, moses, that adam sinned and fell through the gentle persuasion of madam. the victim, no doubt, of egyptian flirtation, you mistook your chagrin for divine inspiration, and condemned all the sex without proof or probation, as we rhymsters mistake the moonbeams that elate us for flashes of wit or the holy afflatus, and imagine we hear the applause of a nation,-- but all honest men who are married and blest will agree that the last work of god is the best. and now to you all--whether married or single-- whether sheltered by slate, or by "shake," or by shingle-- god bless you with peace and with bountiful cheer, happy houses, happy hearts--and a happy new year! p.s.--if you wish all these blessings, 'tis clear you should send in your "stamps" for the old _pioneer_. * * * * * my father-land [from the german of theodor korner.] where is the minstrel's father-land? where the sparks of noble spirits flew, where flowery wreaths for beauty grew, where strong hearts glowed so glad and true for all things sacred, good and grand: there was my father-land. how named the minstrel's father-land? o'er slaughtered son--'neath tyrants' yokes, she weepeth now--and foreign strokes; they called her once the land of oaks-- land of the free--the german land: thus was called my father-land. why weeps the minstrel's father-land? because while tyrant's tempest hailed the people's chosen princes quailed, and all their sacred pledges failed; because she could no ear command, alas must weep my father-land. whom calls the minstrel's father-land? she calls on heaven with wild alarm-- with desperation's thunder-storm-- on liberty to bare her arm, on retribution's vengeful hand: on these she calls--my father-land. what would the minstrel's father-land? she would strike the base slaves to the ground chase from her soil the tyrant hound, and free her sons in shackles bound, or lay them free beneath her sand: that would my father-land. and hopes the minstrel's father-land? she hopes for holy freedom's sake, hopes that her true sons will awake, hopes that just god will vengeance take, and ne'er mistakes the avenger's hand: thereon relies my father-land. my heart's on the rhine [from the german of wolfgang muller.] my heart's on the rhine--in the old father-land; where my cradle was rocked by a dear mother's hand, my youth and my friends--they are there yet, i know, and my love dreams of me with her cheeks all aglow; o there where i reveled in song and in wine! wherever i wander my heart's on the rhine. i hail thee, thou broad-breasted, golden-green stream; ye cities and churches and castles that gleam; ye grain-fields of gold in the valley so blue; ye vineyards that glow in the sun-shimmered dew; ye forests and caverns and cliffs that were mine! wherever i wander my heart's on the rhine. i hail thee, o life of the soul-stirring song, of waltz and of wine, with a yearning so strong, hail, ye stout race of heroes, so brave and so true. ye blue-eyed, gay maidens, a greeting to you! your life and your aims and your efforts be mine; wherever i wander my heart's on the rhine. my heart's on the rhine--in the old father-land, where my cradle was rocked by a dear mother's hand; my youth and my friends--they are there yet, i know, and my love dreams of me with her cheeks all aglow: be thou ever the same to me, land of the vine! wherever i wander my heart's on the rhine. the minstrel [from the german of goethe] [_wilhelm meister's apprenticeship, book , chap. ._] "what hear i at the gateway ringing? what bard upon the drawbridge singing? go bid him to repeat his song here, in the hall amid the throng," the monarch cried; the little page hied; as back he sped, the monarch said-- "bring in the gray-haired minstrel." "i greet you, noble lords and peers; i greet you, lovely dames. o heaven begemmed with golden spheres! who knows your noble names? in hall of splendor so sublime, close ye, mine eyes--'tis not the time to gaze in idle wonder." the gray-haired minstrel closed his eyes; he struck his wildest air; brave faces glowed like sunset skies; cast down their eyes the fair. the king well pleased with the minstrel's song, sent the little page through the wondering throng a chain of gold to bear him. "o give not me the chain of gold; award it to thy braves, before whose faces fierce and bold quail foes when battle raves; or give it thy chancellor of state, and let him wear its golden weight with his official burdens. "i sing, i sing as the wild birds sing that in the forest dwell; the songs that from my bosom spring alone reward me well: but may i ask that page of thine to bring me one good cup of wine in golden goblet sparkling?" he took the cup; he drank it all: "o soothing nectar thine! thrice bless'd the highly favored hall where flows such glorious wine: if thou farest well, then think of me, and thank thy god, as i thank thee for this inspiring goblet." hope [from the german of schiller.] men talk and dream of better days-- of a golden time to come; toward a happy and shining goal they run with a ceaseless hum. the world grows old and grows young again, still hope of the better is bright to men. hope leads us in at the gate of life; she crowns the boyish head; her bright lamp lures the stalwart youth, nor burns out with the gray-haired dead; for the grave closes over his trouble and care, but see--on the grave--hope is planted there! 'tis not an empty and flattering deceit, begot in a foolish brain; for the heart speaks loud with its ceaseless throbs, "we are not born in vain"; and the words that out of the heart-throbs roll, they cannot deceive the hoping soul. mrs. mcnair _misce stultitiam consiliis brevem.--horace._ mrs. mcnair was tall and fair; mrs. mcnair was slim; she had flashing black eyes and raven hair; but a very remarkably modest air; and her only care was for mr. mcnair; she was exceedingly fond of him. he sold "notions" and lace with wonderful grace, and kept everything neatly displayed in its place: the red, curly hair on his head and his face he always persisted should be oiled and twisted; he was the sleekest young husband that ever existed. precisely at four he would leave his store; and mr. mcnair with his modest bride seated snugly and lovingly by his side, on the rural broadway, every pleasant day, in his spick-span carriage would rattle away. though it must be allowed the lady was proud, she'd have no maid about her the dear lady vowed: so for mr. mcnair the wear and the fare she made it a care of her own to prepare. i think i may guess, being married myself, that the cause was not solely the saving of pelf. as for her, i'll declare, though raven her hair, though her eyes were so dark and her body so slim, she hadn't a thought for a man but him. from three to nine, invited to dine, oft met at the house of the pair divine: her husband--and who, by the way, was well able-- did all the "agreeable" done at the table; while she--most remarkably loving bride-- sat snugly and modestly down by his side. and when they went out it was whispered about, "she's the lovingest wife in the town beyond doubt;" and every one swore, from pastor to clown, they were the most affectionate couple in town. yes; mrs mcnair was modest and fair; she never fell into a pout or a fret; and mr. mcnair was her only care and indeed her only pet. the few short hours he spent at his store she spent sewing or reading the romancers' lore; and whoever came it was always the same with the modest lady that opened the door. but there came to town one captain brown to spend a month or more. now this same captain brown was a man of renown, and a dashing blue coat he wore; and a bright, brass star. and a visible scar on his brow--that he said he had got in the war as he led the van: (he never ran!) in short, he was the "general's" right-hand man, and had written his name on the pages of fame. he was smooth as an eel, and rode so genteel that in less than a week every old maid and dame was constantly lisping the bold captain's name. now mr. mcnair, as well as the fair, had a "bump of reverence" as big as a pear, and whoever like brown had a little renown, and happened to visit that rural town, was invited of course by mcnair--to "go down." so merely by chance, the son of the lance became the bold hero of quite a romance: for mrs. mcnair thought him wonderful fair, and that none but her husband could with him compare. half her timidity vanished in air the first time he dined with herself and mcnair. now the captain was arch in whiskers and starch and preferred, now and then, a gay waltz to a march. a man, too, he was of uncommon good taste; always "at home" and never in haste, and his manners and speech were remarkably chaste. to tell you in short his daily resort he made at the house of "his good friend mcnair," who ('twas really too bad) was so frequently out when the captain called in "just to see _him_" (no doubt) but mrs. mcnair was so lonely--too bad; so he chatted and chattered and made her look glad. and many a view of his coat of blue, all studded with buttons gilt, spangled and new, the dear lady took half askance from her book, as she modestly sat in the opposite nook. familiarly he and modestly she talked nonsense and sense so strangely commingled, that the dear lady's heart was delighted and tingled. a man of sobriety renown and variety it could not be wrong to enjoy his society: o was it a sin for him to "drop in," and sometimes to pat her in sport on the chin? dear ladies, beware; dear ladies, take care-- how you play with a lion asleep in his lair: "mere trifling flirtations"--these arts you employ? flirtations once led to the siege of old troy; and a woman was in for the sorrow and sin and slaughter that fell when the greeks tumbled in; nor is there a doubt, my dears, under the sun, but they've led to the sack of more cities than one. i would we were all as pure as saint paul that we touched not the goblet whose lees are but gall; but if so we must know where a flirtation leads; beware of the fair and look out for our heads. remember the odious, frail woman, herodias sent old baptist john to a place incommodious, and prevailed on her husband to cut off his head for an indiscreet thing the old nazarite said. day in and day out the blue coat was about; and the dear little lady was glad when he came and began to be talkative, tender and tame. then he gave her a ring, begged a curl of her hair, and smilingly whispered her--"don't tell mcnair." she dropped her dark eyes and with two little sighs sent the bold captain's heart fluttering up to the skies. then alas-- what a pass! he fell at the feet of the lady so sweet, and swore that he loved her beyond his control-- with all his humanity--body and soul! the lady so frail turned suddenly pale, then--sighed that his love was of little avail; for alas, the dear captain--he must have forgot-- she was tied to mcnair with a conjugal knot. but indeed she agreed-- were she only a maid he alone could succeed; but she prayed him by all that is sacred and fair, not to rouse the suspicion of mr. mcnair. 'twas really too bad, for the lady was sad: and a terrible night o't the poor lady had, while mr. mcnair wondered what was the matter, and endeavored to coax, to console and to flatter. many tears she shed that night while in bed for she had such a terrible pain in her head! "my dear little pet, where's the camphor?" he said; "i'll go for the doctor--you'll have to be bled; i declare, my dear wife, you are just about dead." "o no, my dear; i pray you don't fear, though the pain, i'll admit, is exceeding severe. i know what it is--i have had it before-- it's only neuralgia: please go to the store and bring me a bottle of 'davis's pain- killer,' and i shall be better again." he sprang out of bed and away he sped in his gown for the cordial to cure her head, not dreaming that cupid had played her a trick-- the blind little rogue with a sharpened stick. i confess on my knees i have had the disease; it is worse than the bites of a thousand fleas; and the only cure i have found for these ills is a double dose of "purgative pills." he rubbed her head-- and eased it, she said; and he shrugged and shivered and got into bed. he slept and he snored, but the poor lady's pain, when her lord slept soundly, came on again. it wore away however by day and when brown called again she was smiling and gay; but alas, he must say--to the lady's dismay-- in the town of his heart he had staid out his stay, and must leave for his regiment with little delay. now mrs. mcnair was tall and fair, mrs. mcnair was slim, but the like of brown was so wonderful rare that she could not part with him. indeed you can see it was truly a pity, for her husband was just going down to the city, and captain brown-- the man of renown-- could console her indeed were he only in town. so mcnair to the city the next monday hied, and left bold captain brown with his modest young bride. as the serpent did eve most sorely deceive-- causing old father adam to sorrow and grieve, and us, his frail children, tho' punished and chidden, to hanker for things that are sweet but forbidden-- the captain so fair, with his genius so rare, wound the web of enchantment round mrs. mcnair; and alas, fickle helen, ere three days were over, she had sworn to elope with her brass-buttoned lover. like helen, the greek, she was modest and meek, and as fair as a rose, but a trifle too weak. when a maid she had suitors as proud as ulysses, but she ne'er bent her neck to their arms or their kisses, till mcnair he came in with a brush on his chin-- it was love at first sight--but a trifle too thin; for, married, the dreams of her girlhood fell short all, and she found that her husband was only a mortal. dear ladies, betray us-- fast and loose play us-- we'll follow you still like bereaved menelaus, till the little blind god with his cruel shafts slay us. cold-blooded as i am, if a son of old priam should break the mosaic commands and defy 'em, and elope with my "pet," and moreover my riches, i would follow the rogue if i went upon crutches to the plains of old troy without jacket or breeches. but then i'm so funny if he'd give up the money, he might go to the dogs with himself and his "honey." the lovers agreed that the hazardous deed should be done in the dark and with very great speed, for mr. mcnair--when the fellow came back-- might go crazy and foolishly follow their track. so at midnight should wait at her garden-gate a carriage to carry the dear, precious freight of mrs. mcnair who should meet captain brown at the globe hotel in a neighboring town. a man should be hired to convey the admired. and keep mum as a mouse, and do what was desired. wearily, wearily half the night the lady watched away; at times in a spirit of sadness quite, but fully resolved on her amorous flight, she longed to be under way; yet with sad heaving heart and a tear, i declare, as she sorrowfully thought of poor mr. mcnair. "poor fellow," she sighed, "i wish he had died last spring when he had his complaint in the side for i know--i am sure--it will terribly grieve him to have me elope with the captain and leave him. but the captain--dear me! i hardly can see why i love the brave captain to such a degree: but see--there's the carriage, i vow, at the gate! i must go--'tis the law of inveterate fate." so a parting look at her home she took, while a terrible conflict her timid soul shook; then turned to the carriage heart-stricken and sore, stepped hastily in and closed up the door. "crack!" went the whip; she bit her white lip, and away she flew on her desperate trip. she thought of dear brown; and poor mr. mcnair-- she knew he would hang himself straight in despair. she sighed and she cried all during the ride, and endeavored--alas, but she could not decide. three times she prayed; three times she essayed to call to the driver for pity and aid-- to drive her straight to her garden-gate, and break the spell of her terrible fate. but her tongue was tied-- she couldn't decide, and she only moaned at a wonderful rate. no mortal can tell "what might have befell," had it been a mile more to the globe hotel; but as they approached it she broke from her spell. a single hair for mr. mcnair she vowed to herself that she did not care; but the captain so true in his coat of blue-- to his loving arms in her fancy she flew. in a moment or more they drove up to the door, and she felt that her trials and troubles were o'er. the landlord came hastily out in his slippers, for late he had sat with some smokers and sippers. as the lady stepped down with a fret and a frown, she sighed half aloud, "where is dear captain brown?" "this way, my dear madam," politely he said, and straightway to the parlor the lady he led. now the light was dim where she followed him, and the dingy old parlor looked gloomy and grim. as she entered, behold, in contemplative mood, in the farther corner the bold captain stood in his coat of blue: to his arms she flew; she buried her face in his bosom so true: "dear captain!--my darling!" sighed mrs. mcnair; then she raised her dark eyes and--good heavens' i declare!--- instead of the captain 'twas--_mr. mcnair!_ she threw up her arms--she screamed--and she fainted; such a scene!--ah the like of it never was painted. of repentance and pardon i need not tell; her vows i will not relate, for every man must guess them well who knows much of the "married state." of the sad mischance suffice it to say that mcnair had suspected the captain's "foul play;" so he laid a snare for the bold and the fair, but he captured, alas, only mrs. mcnair; and the brass-buttoned lover--bold captain brown-- was nevermore seen in that rural town. mrs. mcnair is tall and fair; mrs. mcnair is slim; and her husband again is her only care-- she is wonderfully fond of him; for now he is all the dear lady can wish--he is a captain himself--in the state militia. . the draft [january, .] old father abe has issued his "call" for three hundred thousand more! by jupiter, boys, he is after you all-- lamed and maimed--tall and small-- with his drag-net spread for a general haul of the "suckers" uncaught before. i am sorry to see such a woeful change in the health of the hardiest; it is wonderful odd--it is "passing strange"-- as over the country you travel and range, to behold such a sudden, lamentable change all over the east and the west. "blades" tough and hearty a week ago, who tippled and danced and laughed, are "suddenly taken," and some quite low with an epidemical illness, you know: "what!--zounds!--the cholera?" you quiz;--no--no-- the doctors call it the "draft." what a blessed thing it were to be old-- a little past "forty-five;" 'twere better indeed than a purse of gold at a premium yet unwritten, untold, for what poor devil that's now "enrolled" expects to get off alive? there's a miracle wrought in the democrats; they swore it was murder and sin to put in the "niggers," like kilkenny cats, to clear the ship of the rebel rats, but now i notice they swing their hats and shout to the "niggers"--"_go in!_" the devil and the monk once satan and a monk went on a "drunk," and satan struck a bargain with the monk, whereby the devil's crew was much increased by penceless poor and now and then a priest who, lacking cunning or good common sense, got caught _in flagrante_ and out of pence. then in high glee the devil filled a cup and drank a brimming bumper to the pope: then--"here's to you," he said, "sober or drunk, in cowl or corsets, every monk's a punk. whate'er they preach unto the common breed, at heart the priests and i are well agreed. justice is blind we see, and deaf and old, but in her scales can hear the clink of gold. the convent is a harem in disguise, and virtue is a fig-leaf for the wise to hide the naked truth of lust and lecheries. "and still the toilers feed the pious breed, and pin their faith upon the bishop's sleeve; hungry for hope they gulp a moldy creed and dine on faith. 'tis easier to believe an old-time fiction than to wear a tooth in gnawing bones to reach the marrow truth. priests murder truth and with her gory ghost they frighten fools and give the rogues a roast until without or pounds or pence or price-- free as the fabled wine of paradise-- they furnish priestly plates with buttered toast. your priests of superstition stalk the land with jacob's winning voice and esau's hand; sinners to hell and saints to heaven they call, and eat the fattest fodder in the stall. they, versed in dead rituals in dead language deep, talk greek to th' _grex_ and latin to their sheep, and feed their flocks a flood of cant and college for every drop of sense or useful knowledge." "i beg your pardon," softly said the monk, "i fear your majesty is raving drunk. i would be courteous." but the devil laughed and slyly winked and sagely shook his head. "my fawning dog," the sage satanic said, "wags not his tail for me but for my bread. brains rule to day as they have ruled for aye, and craft grown craftier in this modern day still rides the fools, but in a craftier way; and priestcraft lingers and survives its use; what was a blessing once is now abuse: grown fat and arrogant on power and pelf, the old-time shepherd has become a wolf and only feeds his flocks to feast himself. to clink of coin the pious juggler jumps, for still he thinks, as in the days of old, the key to holy heaven is made of gold, that in the game of mortals money is trumps, that golden darts will pierce e'en virtue's shield, and by the salve of gold all sins are healed. so old saint peter stands outside the fence with hand outstretched for toll of peter-pence, and sinners' souls must groan in purgatory until they pay the admission-fee to glory. "there was an honest poet once on earth who beat all other bardies at a canter; rob' burns his mother called him at his birth. though handicapped by rum and much a ranter, he won the madcap race in _tam o'shanter_. he drove a spanking span from scottish heather, strong-limbed, but light of foot as flea or feather-- rhyme and reason, matched and yoked together, and reined them with light hand and limber leather. he wrote to me once on a time--i mind it-- a bold epistle and the poet signed it. he thought to cheat "auld nickie" of his dues, but who outruns the devil casts his shoes; and so at last from frolicking and drinkin', 'some luckless hour' sent him to hell 'alinkin'![cw] times had been rather dull in my dominion, and all my imps like lubbers lay a snoring, but burns began to rhyme us his opinion, and in ten minutes had all hell aroaring. then robbie pulled his book of poems out and read us sundry satires from the book; '_death and doctor hornbook_' raised a shout till all the roof-tin on the rafters shook; and when his '_unco guid_' the bardie read the crew all clapped their hands and yelled like mad; but '_holy willie's prayer_' 'brought down the house'. so i was glad to give the bard a pass and a few pence for toll at peter's gate; for if the roof of hell were made of brass bob burns would shake it off as sure as fate. i mind it well--that poem on a louse! 'o wad some pow'r the giftie gie us,' monk, 'to see oursels as others see us'--drunk; 'it wad frae monie a blunder free us'--list!-- 'and foolish notion.' abbot, bishop, priest, 'what airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e' you all, 'and ev'n devotion.' cowls and robes would fall, and sometimes leave a bishop but a beast, and show a leper sore where erst they made a priest." [cw] tripping. see burns' "_address to the deil_" not to be beat the jolly monk filled up his silver mug with rare old burgundy; "here's to your health," he said, "your majesty"-- and drained the brimming goblet at a gulp-- "'for when the devil was sick the devil a monk would be; but when the devil got well a devil a monk was he.' _in vino veritas_ is true, no doubt-- when wine goes in teetotal truth comes out. to shake a little shakespeare in the wine: 'some rise by sin and some by virtue fall'; but in the realm of fate, as i opine, a devil a virtue is or sin at all. 'the devil be damned' is what we preach, you know it-- at mass and vespers, holy-bread and dinner: from priest to pope, from pedagogue to poet, we sanctify the sin and damn the sinner. this poet shakespeare, whom i read with pleasure, wrote once--i think, in taking his own 'measure':-- 'they say best men are molded out of faults, and, for the most, become much more the better for being a little bad.' the reason halts: if read between the lines--not by the letter-- 'tis plain enough that shakespeare was atrimmin' his own unruly ship and furling sail to meet a british tempest or a gale, and keep cold water from his wine and women. now i'll admit, when he's a little mellow, the devil himself's a devilish clever fellow, and, though his cheeks and paunch are somewhat shrunk, he only lacks a cowl to make a monk. time is the mother of twins _et hic et nunc;_ come, hood your horns and fill the mug abrimmin', for we are cheek by jowl on wit and wine and women." and so the monk and devil filled the mug, and quaffed and chaffed and laughed the night away; and when the "wee sma" hours of night had come, the monk slipped out and stole the abbot's rum; and when the abbot came at break of day, there cheek by jowl--horns, hoofs, and hood--they lay, with open missal and an empty jug, and broken beads and badly battered mug-- in fond embrace--dead drunk upon the rug. think not, wise reader, that the bard hath drunk the wine that fumed these vagaries from the monk; nor, in the devil ethics thou hast read, there spake the poet in the devil's stead. let virtue be our helmet and our shield, and truth our weapon--weapon sharp and strong and deadly to all error and all wrong. yea, armed with truth, though rogues and rascals throng the citadel of virtue shall not yield, for god's right arm of truth prevails in every field. [illustration: the devil and the monk] the tariff on tin monarch of hannah's rocking-chair, with unclipped beard and unkempt hair, sitting at ease by the kitchen fire, nor heeding the wind and the driving sleet, jo lumpkin perused the _daily liar_-- a leading and stanch democratic sheet, while hannah, his wife, in her calico, sat knitting a pair of mittens for jo. "hanner," he said, and he raised his eyes and looked exceedingly grave and wise, "the kentry's agoin, i guess, tu the dogs: them durned republikins, they air hogs: a dev'lish purty fix we air in; they've gone un riz the teriff on tin." "how's thet?" said hannah, and turned her eyes with a look of wonder and vague surprise. "why them confoundered congriss chaps hez knocked the prices out uv our craps: we can't sell butter ner beans no more tu enny furren ship er shore, becuz them durned republikins hez gone un riz the teriff on tins." hannah dropped her knitting-work on her knees, and looked very solemn and ill-at-ease: she gazed profoundly into the fire, then hitched her chair a little bit nigher, and said as she glanced at the _daily liar_ with a sad, wan look in her buttermilk eyes: "i vum thet's a tax on punkin-pies, fer they know we allers bakes 'em in pans un platters un plates uv tin." "i wouldn't agrumbled a bit," said jo, "et a tax on sugar un salt un sich; but i swow it's a morul political sin tu drive the farmer intu the ditch with thet pesky teriff on tin. ef they'd a put a teriff on irn un coal un hides un taller un hemlock bark, why thet might a helped us out uv a hole by buildin uv mills un givin uv work, un gladd'nin many a farmer's soul by raisin the price of pertaters un pork: but durn their eyes, it's a morul sin-- they've gone un riz the teriff on tin. i wouldn't wonder a bit ef blaine hed diskivered a tin mine over in maine; er else he hez foundered a combinashin tu gobble the tin uv the hull creashin. i'll bet jay gould is intu the'trust,' un they've gone in tergether tu make er bust; un tu keep the british frum crowdin in they've gone un riz the teriff on tin. what'll we du fer pans un pails when the cow comes in un the old uns fails? tu borrer a word frum scripter, hanner, un du it, tu, in pious manner, you'll hev tu go down in yer sock fer a ducat, er milk old roan in a wooden bucket: fer them republikins--durn their skin-- hez riz sich a turrible teriff on tin. tu cents a pound on british tin-plate! why, hanner, you see, at thet air rate, accordin tu this ere newspaper-print-- un it mus be so er it wouldn't' be in't-- it's a dollar un a half on one tin pan, un about six shillin on a coffee-can, un ten shillin, hanner, on a dinner-pail! gol! won't it make the workin men squeal-- thet durned republikin tax un steal! they call it protecshin, but blast my skin ef it aint a morul political sin-- thet durned republikin teriff on tin. "un then they hev put a teriff on silk un satin un velvit un thet air ilk, un broadcloth un brandy un havanny cigars, un them slick silk hats thet our preacher wears; un he'll hev tu wear humspun un drink skim milk. un, hanner, you see we'll hev tu be savin, un whittle our store-bill down tu a shavin; you can't go tu meetin in silks; i vum you'll hev tu wear ging-um er stay tu hum." but hannah said sharply--"i won't though, i swum!" and hannah gazed wistfully on her jo as he rocked himself mournfully to and fro, and then she looked thoughtfully into the fire, while the sleet fell faster and the wind blew higher, and jo took a turn at the _daily liar_. . [illustration: "the kentry's agoin', i guess, to the dogs"] pat and the pig old deutchland's the country for sauerkraut and beer, old england's the land of roast beef and good cheer, auld scotland's the mother of gristle and grit, but ireland, my boy, is the mother of wit. once pat was indicted for stealing a pig, and brought into court to the man in the wig. the indictment was long and so lumbered with latin that pat hardly knew what a pickle was pat in; but at last it was read to the end, and the wig said: "pat, are you guilty of stealing the pig?" pat looked very wise, though a trifle forlorn, and he asked of milord that the witness be sworn. "bless yer sowl," stammered pat, "an' the day ye was born! faith how in the divil d'ye think oi can tell till oi hear the ividince?" pat reckoned well; for the witness was sworn and the facts he revealed-- how pat stole the piggy and how the pig squealed, whose piggy the pig was and what he was worth, and the slits in his ears and his tail and--so forth; but he never once said, 'in the county of meath,'[cx] so pat he escaped by the skin of his teeth. [cx] in criminal cases it is necessary to prove that the crime was committed in the county where the venue is laid. notes [ ] called in the dakota tongue "_hok-sée-win-nâ-pee wo-hán-pee_"--virgins' dance (or feast). [ ] one of the favorite and most exciting games of the dakotas is ball-playing. a smooth place on the prairie, or in winter, on a frozen lake or river, is chosen. each player has a sort of bat, called "_tâ-kée-cha-psé-cha_," about thirty-two inches long, with a hoop at the lower end four or five inches in diameter, interlaced with thongs of deer-skin, forming a sort of pocket. with these bats they catch and throw the ball. stakes are set as bounds at a considerable distance from the center on either side. two parties are then formed and each chooses a leader or chief. the ball (_tâpa_) is then thrown up half way between the bounds, and the game begins, the contestants contending with their bats for the ball as it falls. when one succeeds in getting it fairly into the pocket of his bat he swings it aloft and throws it as far as he can toward the bound to which his party is working, taking care to send it if possible where some of his own side will take it up. thus the ball is thrown and contended for till one party succeeds in casting it beyond the bounds of the opposite party. a hundred players on a side are sometimes engaged in this exciting game. betting on the result often runs high. moccasins, pipes, knives, hatchets, blankets, robes and guns are hung on the prize-pole. not unfrequently horses are staked on the issue and sometimes even women. old men and mothers are among the spectators, praising their swift-footed sons, and young wives and maidens are there to stimulate their husbands and lovers. this game is not confined to the warriors but is also a favorite amusement of the dakota maidens, who generally play for prizes offered by the chief or warriors. (see _neill's hist. minn._, pp - ; _riggs' tâkoo wakân_, pp - , and _mrs. eastman's dacotah_, p .) [ ] pronounced _wah-zeé-yah_--the god of the north, or winter. a fabled spirit who dwells in the frozen north, in a great _teepee_ of ice and snow. from his mouth and nostrils he blows the cold blasts of winter. he and _i-tó-ka-ga wi câs-ta_--the spirit or god of the south (literally the "south man") are inveterate enemies, and always on the war-path against each other. in winter _wa-zi-ya_ advances southward and drives _i-tó-ka-ga wi-câs-ta_ before him to the summer-islands. but in spring the god of the south having renewed his youth and strength in the "happy hunting grounds," is able to drive _wa-zi-ya_ back again to his icy wigwam in the north. some dakotas say that the numerous granite boulders scattered over the prairies of minnesota and dakota, were hurled in battle by _wa-zi-ya_ from his home in the north at _i-tó-ka-ga wi-câs-ta_. the _wa-zi-ya_ of the dakotas is substantially the same as "_ka be-bon-ik-ka_"--the "winter-maker" of the ojibways. [ ] mendota--(meeting of the waters) at the confluence of the mississippi and minnesota rivers. the true dakota word is _mdó-tè_--applied to the mouth of a river flowing into another, also to the outlet of a lake. [ ] pronounced _wee-wâh-stay_; literally--a beautiful virgin or woman. [ ] _cetân-wa-ká-wa-mâni_--"he who shoots pigeon-hawks walking"--was the full dakota name of the grandfather of the celebrated "little crow" (_ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta_--his red people) who led his warriors in the terrible outbreak in minnesota in - . the chippeways called the grandfather _ká-ká-gè_--crow or raven--from his war-badge, a crow-skin; and hence the french traders and _courriers du bois_ called him "_petit corbeau_"--little crow. this sobriquet, of which he was proud, descended to his son, _wakinyan tânka_--big thunder, who succeeded him as chief; and from big thunder to his son _ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta_, who became chief on the death of _wakinyan tânka_. these several "little crows" were successively chiefs of the light-foot, or _kapóza_ band of dakotas. _kapóza_, the principal village of this band, was originally located on the east bank of the mississippi near the site of the city of st. paul. _col. minn. hist. soc._, , p. . it was in later years moved to the west bank. the grandfather whom i, for short, call _wakâwa_, died the death of a brave in battle against the ojibways (commonly called chippeways)--the hereditary enemies of the dakotas. _wakinyan tânka_--big thunder, was killed by the accidental discharge of his own gun. they were both buried with their kindred near the "_wakan teepee_," the sacred cave--(carver's cave). _ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta_, the last of the little crows, was killed july , , during the outbreak, near hutchinson, minnesota, by the lampsons--father and son, and his bones were duly "done up" for the historical society of minnesota. see _heard's hist. sioux war_, and _neill's hist. minnesota_, third edition. [illustration: little crow. _from an original photograph in the author's possession_] little crow's sixteen-year-old son, _wa-wi-na-pe_--(one who appears --like the spirit of his forefather) was with him at the time he was killed; but escaped, and after much hardship and suffering, was at last captured at _mini wakan_ (devil's lake, in north dakota). from him personally i obtained much information in regard to little crow's participation in the "sioux war," and minutely the speech that little crow made to his braves when he finally consented to lead them on the war-path against the whites. a literal translation of that speech will be found further on in this note. i knew _ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta_, and from his own lips, in - and , obtained much interesting information in regard to the history, tradition, customs, superstitions and habits of the dakotas, of whom he was the recognized head-chief. he was a remarkable indian--a philosopher and a brave and generous man. "untutored savage" that he was, he was a prince among his own people, and the peer in natural ability of the ablest white men in the northwest in his time. he had largely adopted the dress and habits of civilized man, and he urged his people to abandon their savage ways, build houses, cultivate fields, and learn to live like the white people. he clearly forsaw the ultimate extinction of his people as a distinct race. he well knew and realized the numbers and power of the whites then rapidly taking possession of the hunting-grounds of the dakotas, and the folly of armed opposition on the part of his people. he said to me once: "no more dakotas by and by; indians all white men. no more buffaloes by and by; all cows, all oxen." but his braves were restless. they smarted under years of wrong and robbery, to which, indeed, the most stinging insults were often added by the traders and officials among them. if the true, unvarnished history of the cause and inception of the "sioux outbreak" in minnesota is ever written and published, it will bring the blush of shame to the cheeks of every honest man who reads it. against his judgment and repeated protests, little crow was at last, after the depredations had begun, forced into the war on the whites by his hot-headed and uncontrollable "young men." goaded to desperation, a party of little crow's young "bucks," in august, , began their depredations and spilled white blood at acton. returning to their chief's camp near the agency, they told their fellow braves what they had done. the hot-headed young warriors immediately demanded of little crow that he put on the "war-paint" and lead them against the white men. the chief severely rebuked the "young men" who had committed the murders, blackened his face (a sign of mourning), retired to his _teepee_ and covered his head in sorrow. his braves surrounded his tent and cut it into strips with their knives. they threatened to depose him from the chiefship unless he immediately put on the "war-paint" and led them against the whites. they knew that the civil war was then in progress, that the white men were fighting among themselves, and they declared that now was the time to regain their lost hunting-grounds; that now was the time to avenge the thievery and insults of the agents who had for years systematically cheated them out of the greater part of their promised annuities, for which they had been induced to part with their lands; that now was the time to avenge the debauchery of their wives and daughters by the dissolute hangers-on who, as employees of the indian agents and licensed traders, had for years hovered around them like buzzards around the carcasses of slaughtered buffaloes. but little crow was unmoved by the appeals and threats of his warriors. it is said that once for a moment he uncovered his head; that his face was haggard and great beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. but at last one of his enraged braves, bolder than the rest, cried out: "_ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta_ is a coward!" instantly little crow sprang from his _teepee_, snatched the eagle-feathers from the head of his insulter and flung them on the ground. then, stretching himself to his full height, his eyes flashing fire, and in a voice tremulous with rage, he exclaimed: "_ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta_ is not a coward, and he is not a fool! when did he run away from his enemies? when did he leave his braves behind him on the war-path and turn back to his _teepees_? when he ran away from your enemies, he walked behind on your trail with his face to the ojibways and covered your backs as a she-bear covers her cubs! is _ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta_ without scalps? look at his war-feathers! behold the scalp-locks of your enemies hanging there on his lodge-poles! do they call him a coward? _ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta_ is not a coward, and he is not a fool. braves, you are like little children; you know not what you are doing. "you are full of the white man's _devil-water_" (rum). "you are like dogs in the hot moon when they run mad and snap at their own shadows. we are only little herds of buffaloes left scattered; the great herds that once covered the prairies are no more. see!--the white men are like the locusts when they fly so thick that the whole sky is a snow-storm. you may kill one--two--ten; yes, as many as the leaves in the forest yonder, and their brothers will not miss them. kill one--two--ten, and ten times ten will come to kill you. count your fingers all day long and white men with guns in their hands will come faster than you can count. "yes; they fight among themselves--away off. do you hear the thunder of their big guns? no; it would take you two moons to run down to where they are fighting, and all the way your path would be among white soldiers as thick as tamaracks in the swamps of the ojibways. yes; they fight among themselves, but if you strike at them they will all turn on you and devour you and your women and little children just as the locusts in their time fall on the trees and devour all the leaves in one day. you are fools. you cannot see the face of your chief; your eyes are full of smoke. you cannot hear his voice; your ears are full of roaring waters. braves, you are little children--you are fools. you will die like the rabbits when the hungry wolves hunt them in the hard moon (january). _ta-ó-ya-té dú-ta_ is not a coward: he will die with you." [ ] _hârps-te-nâh_. the first-born daughter of a dakota is called _winona_; the second, _hârpen_; the third, _hârpstinâ_; the fourth, _wâska_; the fifth, _wehârka_. the first-born son is called _chaskè_; the second, _hârpam_; the third, _hapéda_; the fourth, _châtun_; the fifth, _hârka_. they retain these names till others are given them on account of some action, peculiarity, etc. the females often retain their child-names through life. [ ] _wah-pah-sâh_ was the hereditary name of a long and illustrious line of dakota chiefs. wabashaw is a corrupt pronunciation. the name is a contraction of _wâ-pa-hâ-sa_, which is from _wâ-ha-pa_, the standard or pole used in the dakota dances and upon which feathers of various colors are tied, and not from _wâ-pa_--leaf, as has been generally supposed. therefore _wâpasa_ means the standard--and not the "leaf-shaker," as many writers have it. the principal village of these hereditary chiefs was _ke-úk-sa_, or _ke-ó-sa_,--where now stands the fair city of winona. _ke-úk-sa_ signifies--the village of law-breakers; so called because this band broke the law or custom of the dakotas against marrying blood relatives of any degree. i get this information from rev. stephen r. riggs, author of the dakota grammar and dictionary, "_takoo wakan_," etc. _wapasa_, grandfather of the last chief of that name, and a contemporary of _cetan-wa-kâ-wa-mâni_, was a noted chief, and a friend of the british in the war of the revolution. _neill's hist. minn._, pp. - . [ ] _e-hó, e-tó_--exclamations of surprise and delight. [ ] _mah-gâh_--the wild-goose. [ ] _teé-peé_--a lodge or wigwam, often contracted to "_tee_." [ ] pronounced _mahr-peé-yah-doó-tah_--literally, cloud red. [ ] pronounced _wahnmdeé_--the war eagle. each feather worn by a warrior represents an enemy slain or captured--man, woman or child; but the dakotas, before they became desperate under the cruel warfare of their enemies, usually spared the lives of their captives, and never killed women or infants, except in rare instances under the _lex talionis_. _neill's hist. minn._, p. . [ ] _mah-tó_--the polar bear--_ursus maritimus_. the dakotas say that in olden times white bears were often found about rainy lake and the lake of the woods in winter, and sometimes as far south as the mouth of the minnesota. they say one was once killed at white bear lake (but a few miles from st. paul and minneapolis), and they therefore named the lake medé mató--white bear lake, literally--lake white bear. [ ] the _hó-hé_ (ho-hay) are the assiniboins or "stone-roasters." their home is the region of the assiniboin river in manitoba. they speak the dakota tongue, and originally were a band of that nation. tradition says a dakota "helen" was the cause of the separation and a bloody feud that lasted for many years. the _hóhés_ are called "stone-roasters," because, until recently at least, they used _wa-ta-pe_ kettles and vessels made of birch bark in which they cooked their food. they boiled water in these vessels by heating stones and putting them in the water. the _wa-ta-pe_ kettle is made of the fibrous roots of the white cedar interlaced and tightly woven. when the vessel is soaked it becomes water-tight. [_snelling's_] _tales of the north-west_, p , _mackenzie's travels._ [ ] _hey-ó-ka_ is one of the principal dakota deities. he is a giant, but can change himself into a buffalo, a bear, a fish or a bird. he is called the anti-natural god or spirit. in summer he shivers with cold, in winter he suffers from heat; he cries when he laughs and he laughs when he cries, etc. he is the reverse of nature in all things. _heyóka_ is universally feared and reverenced by the dakotas, but so severe is the ordeal that the _heyóka wacipee_ (the dance to _heyóka_) is now rarely celebrated. it is said that the "medicine-men" use a secret preparation which enables them to handle fire and dip their hands in boiling water without injury and thereby gain great _eclat_ from the uninitiated. the chiefs and the leading warriors usually belong to the secret order of "medicine-men" or "sons of _unktéhee_"--the spirit of the waters. [ ] the dakota name for the moon is _han-yé-tu-wee_--literally, night-sun. he is the twin brother of _an-pé-tu-wee_--the day sun. see note . [ ] the dakotas believe that the stars are the spirits of their departed friends. [ ] _tee_--contracted from _teepee_, lodge or wigwam, and means the same. [ ] for all their sacred feasts the dakotas kindle a new fire called "the virgin fire." this is done with flint and steel, or by rubbing together pieces of wood till friction produces fire. it must be done by a virgin, nor must any woman, except a virgin, ever touch the "sacred armor" of a dakota warrior. white cedar is "_wakân_"--sacred. see note . _riggs' tahkoo wakân_, p. . [ ] all northern indians consider the east a mysterious and sacred land whence comes the sun. the dakota name for the east is _wee-yo-heé-yan-pa_--the sunrise. the ojibways call it _waub-ó-nong_ --the white land or land of light, and they have many myths, legends and traditions relating thereto. barbarous peoples of all times have regarded the east with superstitious reverence simply because the sun rises in that quarter. [ ] see _mrs. eastman's dacotah_, pp. - , describing the feast to _heyóka_. [ ] this stone from which the dakotas have made their pipes for ages, is esteemed _wakân_--sacred. they call it _i-yân-ska_, probably from _iya_, to speak, and _ska_, white, truthful, peaceful,--hence, peace-pipe, herald of peace, pledge of truth, etc. in the cabinet at albany, n.y., there is a very ancient pipe of this material which the iroquois obtained from the dakotas. charlevoix speaks of this pipe-stone in his _history of new france_. lesueur refers to the yanktons as the village of the dakotas at the red-stone quarry. see _neill's hist. minn._, p. . [ ] "_ho_" is an exclamation of approval--yea, yes, bravo. [ ] buying is the honorable way of taking a wife among the dakotas. the proposed husband usually gives a horse or its value in other articles to the father or natural guardian of the woman selected--sometimes against her will. see note . [ ] the dakotas believe that the _aurora borealis_ is an evil omen and the threatening of an evil spirit (perhaps _waziya_, the winter-god--some say a witch, or a very ugly old woman). when the lights appear danger threatens, and the warriors shoot at, and often slay, the evil spirit, but it rises from the dead again. [ ] _se-só-kah_--the robin. [ ] the spirit of _anpétu-sâpa_ that haunts the falls of st. anthony with her dead babe in her arms. see the legend in _neill's hist. minn._, or my _legend of the falls._ [ ] _mee-coónk-shee_--my daughter. [ ] the dakotas call the meteor, "_wakân-dénda_" (sacred fire) and _wakân-wóhlpa_ (sacred gift). meteors are messages from the land of spirits warning of impending danger. it is a curious fact that the "sacred stone" of the mohammedans, in the kaaba at mecca, is a meteoric stone, and obtains its sacred character from the fact that it fell from heaven. [ ] _kah-nó-te-dahn_,--the little, mysterious dweller in the woods. this spirit lives in the forest, in hollow trees. _mrs. eastman's dacotah_, pre. rem. xxxi. "the dakota god of the woods--an unknown animal said to resemble a man, which the dakotas worship: perhaps, the monkey."--_riggs' dakota dic. tit--canotidan_. [ ] the dakotas believe that thunder is produced by the flapping of the wings of an immense bird which they call _wakinyan_--the thunder-bird. near the source of the minnesota river is a place called "thunder-tracks" where the foot-prints of a "thunder-bird" are seen on the rocks twenty-five miles apart. _mrs. eastman's dacotah_, p. . there are many thunder-birds. the father of all the thunder-birds--"_wakinyan tanka_"--or "big thunder," has his _teepee_ on a lofty mountain in the far west. his _teepee_ has four openings, at each of which is a sentinel; at the east, a butterfly; at the west, a bear; at the south, a red deer; at the north, a caribou. he has a bitter enmity against _unktéhee_ (god of waters) and often shoots his fiery arrows at him, and hits the earth, trees, rocks, and sometimes men. _wakinyan_ created wild-rice, the bow and arrow, the tomahawk and the spear. he is a great war-spirit, and _wanmdée_ (the war-eagle) is his messenger. a thunder-bird (say the dakotas) was once killed near kapóza by the son of cetan-wakawa-mâni and he thereupon took the name of "_wakinyan tanka_"--"big thunder." [ ] pronounced _tah-tâhn-kah_--bison or buffalo. [ ] _enâh_--an exclamation of wonder. _ehó_--behold! see there! [ ] the crees are the knisteneaux of alexander mackenzie. see his account of them, _mackenzie's travels_, (london, ) p. xci to cvii. [ ] lake superior. the only names the dakotas have for lake superior are _medé tânka_ or _tânka medé_--great lake, and _me-ne-yâ-ta_--literally, _at-the-water_. [ ] april--literally, the moon when the geese lay eggs. see note . [ ] carver's cave at st. paul was called by the dakotas _wakân_ _teepee_--sacred lodge. in the days that are no more they lighted their council-fires in this cave and buried their dead near it. see _neill's hist. minn_., p. . capt. carver in his _travels_, london, , p. , et. seq., describes this cave as follows: "it is a remarkable cave of an amazing depth. the indians term it wakonteebe, that is, the dwelling of the great spirit. the entrance into it is about ten feet wide, the height of it five feet, the arch within is near fifteen feet high and about thirty feet broad. the bottom of it consists of fine clear sand. about twenty feet from the entrance begins a lake, the water of which is transparent, and extends to an unsearchable distance; for the darkness of the cave prevents all attempts to acquire a knowledge of it. i threw a small pebble toward the interior parts of it with my utmost strength. i could hear that it fell into the water, and notwithstanding it was of so small a size it caused an astonishing and horrible noise that reverberated through all those gloomy regions. i found in this cave many indian hieroglyphics which appeared very ancient, for time had nearly covered them with moss so that it was with difficulty i could trace them. they were cut in a rude manner upon the inside of the walls, which were composed of a stone so extremely soft that it might be easily penetrated with a knife: a stone everywhere to be found near the mississippi. this cave is only accessible by ascending a narrow, steep passage that lies near the brink of the river. at a little distance from this dreary cavern is the burying-place of several bands of the naudowessie (dakota) indians," many years ago the roof fell in but the cave has been partly restored and is now used as a beer cellar. [ ] _wah-kâhn-dee_--the lightning. [ ] the bloody river--the red river was so called on account of the numerous indian battles that have been fought on its banks. the ojibways say that its waters were colored red by the blood of many warriors slain on its banks in the fierce wars between themselves and the dakotas. [ ] _tah_--the moose. this is the root-word for all ruminating animals: _ta-tânka_, buffalo--ta-tóka, mountain antelope--ta-hinca, the red deer--ta-mdóka, the buck-deer--ta-hinca-ská, white deer (sheep). [ ] _hogâhn_--fish. red hogan, the trout. [ ] _tipsânna_ (often called _tipsinna_) is a wild prairie-turnip used for food by the dakotas. it grows on high, dry land, and increases from year to year. it is eaten both cooked and raw. [ ] _rio tajo_ (or tagus), a river of spain and portugal. [ ] * * * * "bees of trebizond-- which from the sunniest flowers that glad with their pure smile the gardens round, draw venom forth that drives men mad." _--thomas moore_. [ ] _skeé-skah_--the wood-duck. [ ] the crocus. i have seen the prairies in minnesota spangled with these beautiful flowers in various colors before the ground was free from frost. the dakotas call them "frost-flowers." [ ] the "sacred ring" around the feast of the virgins is formed by armed warriors sitting, and none but a virgin must enter this ring. the warrior who knows is bound on honor, and by old and sacred custom, to expose and publicly denounce any tarnished maiden who dares to enter this ring, and his word cannot be questioned--even by the chief. see _mrs. eastman's dacotah_, p. . [ ] prairie's pride.--this annual shrub, which abounds on many of the sandy prairies in minnesota, is sometimes called "tea-plant," "sage-plant," and "red-root willow." i doubt if it has any botanic name. its long plumes of purple and gold are truly the "pride of the prairies." [ ] the dakotas consider white cedar "_wakân_," (sacred). they use sprigs of it at their feasts, and often burn it to destroy the power of evil spirits. _mrs. eastman's dacotah_, p. . [ ] _tâhkoo-skahng-skahng_. this deity is supposed to be invisible, yet everywhere present; he is an avenger and a searcher of hearts. (_neill's hist. minn_., p. ). i suspect he was the chief spirit of the dakotas before the missionaries imported "_wakân-tánka_" (great spirit). [ ] the dakotas believe in "were-wolves" as firmly as did our saxon ancestors, and for similar reasons--the howl of the wolf being often imitated as a decoy or signal by their enemies the ojibways. [ ] _shee-shó-kah_--the robin. [ ] the dakotas call the evening star the "_virgin star_," and believe it to be the spirit of the virgin wronged at the feast. [ ] mille lacs. this lake was discovered by du luth, and by him named lac buade in honor of governor frontenac of canada, whose family name was buade. the dakota name for it is _mdé wakân_--spirit lake. [ ] the ojibways imitate the hoot of the owl and the howl of the wolf to perfection, and often use these cries as signals to each other in war and the chase. [ ] the dakotas called the ojibways the "snakes of the forest" on account of their lying in ambush for their enemies. [ ] strawberries. [ ] _seé-yo_--the prairie-hen. [ ] _mahgâh_--the wild-goose. _fox-pups_. i could never see the propriety of calling the young of foxes _kits_ or _kittens_, which mean _little cats_. the fox belongs to the _canis_ or dog family, and not the _felis_ or cat family. if it is proper to call the young of dogs and wolves _pups_, it is equally proper to so call the young of foxes. [ ] when a dakota is sick he thinks the spirit of an enemy or some animal has entered into his body, and the principal business of the "medicine-man"--_wicásta wakân_--is to cast out the "unclean spirit," with incantations and charms. see _neill's hist. minn_., pp. - . the jews entertained a similar belief in the days of jesus of nazareth. [ ] _wah-zeé-yah's_ star--the north-star. see note . [ ] the dakotas, like our forefathers and all other barbarians, believe in witches and witchcraft. [ ] the _medó_ is a wild potato; it resembles the sweet-potato in top and taste. it grows in bottom-lands, and is much prized by the dakotas for food. the "_dakota friend_," for december, . (minn. hist. col.) [ ] the meteor--_wakân-denda_--sacred fire. [ ] _me-tá-win_--my bride. [ ] the _via lactea_ or milky way. the dakotas call it _wanágee tach-ánku_--the pathway of the spirits; and believe that over this path the spirits of the dead pass to the spirit-land. see _riggs' tah-koo wah-kan_, p. . [ ] _oonk-táy-he_. there are many _unktéhees_, children of the _great unktéhee_, who created the earth and man, and who formerly dwelt in a vast cavern under the falls of st. anthony. the _unktéhee_ sometimes reveals himself in the form of a huge buffalo-bull. from him proceed invisible influences. the _great unktéhee_ created the earth. "assembling in grand conclave all the aquatic tribes he ordered them to bring up dirt from beneath the waters, and proclaimed death to the disobedient. the beaver and otter forfeited their lives. at last the muskrat went beneath the waters, and, after a long time, appeared at the surface, nearly exhausted, with some dirt. from this _unktéhee_ fashioned the earth into a large circular plain. the earth being finished he took a deity, one of his own offspring, and, grinding him to powder, sprinkled it upon the earth, and this produced many worms. the worms were then collected and scattered again. they matured into infants and these were then collected and scattered and became full-grown dakotas. the bones of the mastodon, the dakotas think, are the bones of _unktéhees_, and they preserve them with the greatest care in the medicine-bag." _neill's hist. minn_., p. . the _unktéhees_ and the thunder-birds are perpetually at war. there are various accounts of the creation of man. some say that at the bidding of the _great unktéhee_, men sprang full grown from the caverns of the earth. see _riggs' "tahkoo wahkan"_, and _mrs. eastman's dacotah_. the _great unktéhee_ and the great thunder-bird had a terrible battle in the bowels of the earth to determine which should be the ruler of the world. see description in _winona_. [ ] pronounced _ahng-páy-too-wee_--the sun; literally the day-sun, thus distinguishing him from _han-yé-tuwee_ (hahng-yay-too-wee) the night sun (the moon). they are twin brothers, but _anpétuwee_ is the more powerful. _han-yé-tuwee_ receives his power from his brother and obeys him. he watches over the earth while the sun sleeps. the dakotas believe the sun is the father of life. unlike the most of their other gods, he is beneficent and kind; yet they worshiped him (in the sun-dance) in the most dreadful manner. see _riggs' tahkoo wakan_, pp. - , and catlin's _okeepa_. the moon is worshiped as the representative of the sun; and in the great sun-dance, which is usually held in the full of the moon, when the moon rises the dancers turn their eyes on her (or him). _anpétuwee_ issues every morning from the lodge of _han-nán-na_ (the morning) and begins his journey over the sky to his lodge in the land of shadows. sometimes he walks over on the bridge (or path) of the spirits--_wanâge ta-chán-ku_,--and sometimes he sails over the sea of the skies in his shining canoe; but _somehow_, and the dakotas do not explain how, he gets back again to the lodge of _hannánna_ in time to take a nap and eat his breakfast before starting anew on his journey. the dakotas swear by the sun, "_as anpétuwee hears me, this is true!_" they call him father and pray to him--"_wakán! até, on-she-má-da_"--"sacred spirit,--father, have mercy on me." as the sun is the father, so they believe the earth is the mother, of life. truly there is much philosophy in the dakota mythology. the algonkins call the earth "_me-suk-kum-mik-o-kwa_"--the great-grandmother of all. _narrative of john tanner_, p. . [ ] the dakotas reckon their months by _moons_. they name their moons from natural circumstances. they correspond very nearly with our months, as follows: january--_wee-té-rhee_--the hard moon; i.e.--the cold moon. february--_wee-câ-ta-wee_--the coon moon--(the moon when the coons come out of their hollow trees). march--_istâ-wee-ca-ya-zang-wee_--the sore-eyes moon (from snow blindness). april--magâ-oka-da-wee--the moon when the geese lay eggs; also called wokâ da-wee--egg-moon; and sometimes wató-papee-wee, the canoe-moon, or moon when the streams become free from ice. may--wó-zu-pee-wee--the planting moon. june--wazú-ste-ca-sa-wee--the strawberry moon. july--wa-sún-pa-wee--the moon when the geese shed their feathers, also called chang-pâ-sapa-wee--choke-cherry moon, and sometimes--mna-rchâ-rcha-wee--"the moon of the red-blooming lilies," literally, the red-lily moon. august--wasú-ton-wee--the ripe moon, i.e., harvest moon. september--psin-na-ké-tu-wee--the ripe rice moon. (when the wild rice is ripe.) october--wâ-zu-pee-wee or wee-wa-zu-pee--the moon when wild rice is gathered and laid up for winter. november--ta-kee-yu-hrâ-wee--the deer-rutting moon. december--ta-hé-cha-psung-wee--the moon when deer shed their horns. [ ] oonk-to-mee--is a bad spirit in the form of a monstrous black spider. he inhabits fens and marshes and lies in wait for his prey. at night he often lights a torch (evidently the ignis fatuus or jack-o' lantern) and swings it on the marshes to decoy the unwary into his toils. [ ] the dakotas have their stone-idol, or god, called toon-kan--or inyan. this god dwells in stone or rocks and is, they say, the oldest god of all--he is grandfather of all living things. i think, however, that the stone is merely the symbol of the everlasting, all-pervading, invisible ta-ku wa-kan--the essence of all life,--pervading all nature, animate and inanimate. the rev. s.r. riggs, who for forty years has been a student of dakota customs, superstitions, etc., says, tâhkoo wahkan, p. , et seq.: "the religious faith of the dakota is not in his gods as such. it is in an intangible, mysterious something of which they are only the embodiment, and that in such measure and degree as may accord with the individual fancy of the worshiper. each one will worship some of these divinities, and neglect or despise others, but the great object of all their worship, whatever its chosen medium, is the _ta-koo wa-kan_, which is the supernatural and mysterious. no one term can express the full meaning of the dakota's _wakan_. it comprehends all mystery, secret power and divinity. awe and reverence are its due, and it is as unlimited in manifestation as it is in idea. all life is _wakan_; so also is everything which exhibits power, whether in action, as the winds and drifting clouds; or in passive endurance, as the boulder by the wayside. for even the commonest sticks and stones have a spiritual essence which must be reverenced as a manifestation of the all-pervading, mysterious power that fills the universe." [ ] _wazi-kuté_--wah-ze-koo-tay; literally--pine-shooter,--he that shoots among the pines. when father hennepin was at mille lacs in - , _wazi-kuté_ was the head chief (_itâncan_) of the band of isantees. hennepin writes the name ouasicoude, and translates it--the "pierced pine." see shea's _hennepin_, p. , _minn. hist. coll_. vol. i, p. . [ ] when a dakota brave wishes to "propose" to a "dusky maid," he visits her _teepee_ at night after she has retired, or rather, laid down in her robe to sleep. he lights a splinter of wood and holds it to her face. if she blows out the light, he is accepted; if she covers her head and leaves it burning he is rejected. the rejection however is not considered final till it has been thrice repeated. even then the maiden is often bought of her parents or guardian, and forced to become the wife of the rejected suitor. if she accepts the proposal, still the suitor must buy her of her parents with suitable gifts. [ ] the dakotas called the falls of st. anthony the _ha-ha_--the _loud laughing_, or _roaring_. the mississippi river they called _ha-ha wâ-kpa_ river of the falls. the ojibway name for the falls of st. anthony is _ka-kâ-bik-kúng_. minnehaha is a combination of two dakota words--_mini_--water and _ha-ha_, falls; but it is not the name by which the dakotas designated that cataract. some authorities say they called it _i-hâ-ha_--pronounced e-rhah-rhah--lightly laughing. rev. s.w. pond, whose long residence as a missionary among the dakotas in this immediate vicinity makes him an authority that can hardly be questioned, says they called the falls of minnehaha "_mini-i-hrpa-ya-dan_," and it had no other name in dakota. "it means little falls and nothing else." letter to the author. [ ] the game of the plum-stones is one of the favorite games of the dakotas. hennepin was the first to describe this game, in his _description de la louisiane_, paris, , and he describes it very accurately. see shea's translation p. . the dakotas call this game _kan-soo koo-tay-pe_--shooting plum-stones. each stone is painted black on one side and red on the other; on one side they grave certain figures which make the stones _wakan_. they are placed in a dish and thrown up like dice. indeed, the game is virtually a game of dice. hennepin says: "there are some so given to this game that they will gamble away even their great coat. those who conduct the game cry at the top of their voices when they rattle the platter, and they strike their shoulders so hard as to leave them all black with the blows." [ ] _wa-tanka_--contraction of _wa-kan tanka_--great spirit. the dakotas had no _wakan tanka_ or _wakan-peta_--fire spirit--till white men imported them. there being no name for the supreme being in the dakota tongue (except _tâku skán-skán_.--see note )--and all their gods and spirits being _wakan_--the missionaries named god in dakota--"_wakan tanka_"--which means _big spirit_, or _the big mysterious_. [ ] the dakotas called lake calhoun, at minneapolis, minn.--_mdé-mdó-za_--loon lake. they also called it _re-ya-ta-mde_--the lake back from the river. they called lake harriet--_mdé-únma_--the other lake--or (perhaps) _mdé-uma_--hazel-nut lake. the lake nearest calhoun on the north--lake of the isles--they called _wi-ta mdé_--island-lake. lake minnetonka they called _me-ne-a-tân-ka_--_broad water_. [ ] the animal called by the french _voyageurs_ the _cabri_ (the kid) is found only on the prairies. it is of the goat kind, smaller than a deer and so swift that neither horse nor dog can overtake it. (snelling's "_tales of the northwest_," p. , note .) it is the gazelle, or prairie antelope, called by the dakotas _ta-tóka-dan_--little antelope. it is the _pish-tah-te-koosh_ of the algonkin tribes, "reckoned the fleetest animal in the prairie country about the assiniboin." _captivity and adventures of john tanner_, p. . [ ] the _wicâstâpi wakânpi_ (literally, _men supernatural_) are the "medicine-men" or magicians of the dakotas. they call themselves the sons or disciples of _unktéhee_. in their rites, ceremonies, tricks and pretensions they closely resemble the _dactyli, idæ_, and _curetes_ of the ancient greeks and romans, the _magi_ of the persians and the druids of britain. their pretended intercourse with spirits, their powers of magic and divination, and their rites are substantially the same, and point unmistakably to a common origin. the dakota "medicine-man" can do the "rope trick" of the hindoo magician to perfection. the _teepee_ used for the _wakan wacipee_--or sacred dance--is called the _wakan teepee_--the sacred teepee. carvers cave at st. paul was also called _wakan teepee_ because the medicine-men or magicians often held their dances and feasts in it. for a full account of the rites, etc., see riggs' _tahkoo wahkan_, chapter vi. the _ta-sha-ke_--literally, "deer-hoofs"--is a rattle made by hanging the hard segments of deer-hoofs to a wooden rod a foot long--about an inch in diameter at the handle end, and tapering to a point at the other. the clashing of these horny bits makes a sharp, shrill sound something like distant sleigh-bells. in their incantations over the sick they sometimes use the gourd shell rattle. the _chân-che-ga_--is a drum or "wooden kettle." the hoop of the drum is from a foot to eighteen inches in diameter, and from three to ten inches deep. the skin covering is stretched over one end, making a drum with one end only. the magical drum-sticks are ornamented with down, and heads of birds or animals are carved on them. this makes them _wakan_. the flute called _cho-tanka_ (big pith) is of two varieties--one made of sumac, the pith of which is punched out. the second variety is made of the long bone of the wing or thigh of the swan or crane. they call the first the _bubbling chotanka_ from the tremulous note it gives when blown with all the holes stopped. riggs' _tâhkoo wahkan_, p. , et seq. _e-né-pee_--vapor-bath, is used as a purification preparatory to the sacred feasts. the vapor-bath is taken in this way: "a number of poles, the size of hoop-poles or less, are taken, and their larger ends being set in the ground in a circle, the flexible tops are bent over and tied in the center. this frame-work is then covered with robes and blankets, a small hole being left on one side for an entrance. before the door a fire is built, and round stones about the size of a man's head, are heated in it. when hot they are rolled within, and the door being closed steam is made by pouring water on them. the devotee, stripped to the skin, sits within this steam-tight dome, sweating profusely at every pore, until he is nearly suffocated. sometimes a number engage in it together and unite their prayers and songs." _tâhkoo wakan_, p. . father hennepin was subjected to the vapor-bath at mille lacs by chief _aqui-pa-que-tin_, two hundred years ago. after describing the method, hennepin says: "when he had made me sweat thus three times in a week, i felt as strong as ever." shea's hennepin, p. . for a very full and accurate account of the medicine-men of the dakotas, and their rites, etc., see chap. ii, neill's hist. minnesota. [ ] the sacred _o-zu-ha_--or medicine sack must be made of the skin of the otter, the coon, the weasel, the squirrel, the loon, a certain kind of fish or the skins of serpents. it must contain four kinds of medicine (or magic) representing birds, beasts, herbs and trees, viz.: the down of the female swan colored red, the roots of certain grasses, bark from the roots of cedar trees, and hair of the buffalo. "from this combination proceeds a wakân influence so powerful that no human being, unassisted, can resist it." wonderful indeed must be the magic power of these dakota druids to lead such a man as the rev. s.r. riggs to say of them: "by great shrewdness, untiring industry, and more or less of _actual demoniacal possession_, they convince great numbers of their fellows, and in the process are convinced themselves of their sacred character and office." _tâhkoo wakân_, pp. - . [ ] _gâh-ma-na-tek-wahk--the river of many falls_--is the ojibway name of the river commonly called kaministiguia, near the mouth of which is situated fort william. the view on thunder-bay is one of the grandest in america. thunder-cap, with its sleeping stone-giant, looms up into the heavens. here _ka-be-bon-ikka_--the ojibway's god of storms--flaps his huge wings and makes the thunder. from this mountain he sends forth the rain, the snow, the hail, the lightning and the tempest. a vast giant, turned to stone by his magic, lies asleep at his feet. the island called by the ojibways the _mak-i-nak_ (the turtle) from its tortoise-like shape, lifts its huge form in the distance. some "down-east yankee" called it "pie-island," from its fancied resemblance to a pumpkin pie, and the name, like all bad names, _sticks_. mckay's mountain on the mainland, a perpendicular rock more than a thousand feet high, upheaved by the throes of some vast volcano, and numerous other bold and precipitous headlands, and rock-built islands, around which roll the sapphire-blue waters of the fathomless bay, present some of the most magnificent views to be found on either continent. [ ] the mission of the holy ghost--at la pointe, on the isle _wauga-bâ-me_--(winding view) in the beautiful bay of cha-quam-egon --was founded by the jesuits about the year . father rené menard was probably the first priest at this point. after he was lost in the wilderness, father glaude allouëz permanently established the mission in . the famous father marquette, who took allouëz's place, sept. , , writing to his superior, thus describes the dakotas: "the nadouessi are the iroquois of this country, beyond la pointe, _but less faithless, and never attack till attacked._ their language is entirely different from the huron and algonquin. they have many villages but are widely scattered. they have very extraordinary customs. they principally use the calumet. they do not speak at great feasts, and when a stranger arrives give him to eat of a wooden fork, as we would a child. all the lake tribes make war on them, but with small success. they have false oats (wild rice,) use little canoes, _and keep their word strictly_." _neill's hist. minn._, p. iii. [ ] _michâbo_ or _manni-bozo_--the good spirit of the algonkins. in autumn, in the moon of the falling leaf, ere he composes himself to his winter's sleep, he fills his great pipe and takes a god-like smoke. the balmy clouds from his pipe float over the hills and woodland, filling the air with the haze of "indian summer." _brinton's myths of the new world_, p. . [ ] pronounced _kah-tháh-gah_--literally, _the place of waves and foam_. this was the principal village of the _isantee_ band of dakotas two hundred years ago, and was located at the falls of st. anthony, which the dakotas called the _ha-ha_,--pronounced _rhah-rhah_,--the _loud-laughing waters_. the dakotas believed that the falls were in the center of the earth. here dwelt the _great unktéhee_, the creator of the earth and man: and from this place a path led to the spirit-land. duluth undoubtedly visited kathâga in the year . in his "memoir" (archives of the ministry of the marine) addressed to seignelay, , he says: "on the nd of july, , i had the honor to plant his majesty's arms in the great village of the nadouecioux called izatys, where never had a frenchman been, etc." _izatys_ is here used not as the name of the village, but as the name of the band--the _isantees_. _nadouecioux_ was a name given the dakotas generally by the early french traders and the ojibways. see _shea's hennepin's description of louisiana_, pp. and . the villages of the dakotas were not permanent towns. they were hardly more than camping grounds, occupied at intervals and for longer or shorter periods, as suited the convenience of the hunters; yet there were certain places, like mille lacs, the falls of st. anthony, _kapoza_ (near st. paul), _remnica_ (where the city of red wing now stands), and _keuxa_ (or _keoza_) on the site of the city of winona, so frequently occupied by several of the bands as to be considered their chief villages respectively. mr. neill, usually very accurate and painstaking, has fallen into an error in his prefatory notes to the last edition of his valuable _history of minnesota_. speaking of duluth, he says: "he appears to have entered minnesota by way of the pigeon or st. louis river, and to have explored where no frenchman had been, and on july , , was at _kathio_ (_kathâga_) perhaps on red lake or lake of the woods, which was called 'the great village of the wadouessioux,' one hundred and twenty leagues from the _songaskicons_ and _houetepons_ who were dwellers _in the mille lac region_." now _kathâga_ (mr. neill's _kathio_) was located at the falls of st. anthony on the mississippi as the whole current of dakota traditions clearly shows and duluth's dispatches clearly indicate. besides, the _songaskicons_ and _houetepons_ were _not_ and never were "dwellers in the mille lac region." the songaskicons (sissetons) were at that time located on the des moines river (in iowa), and the houetabons (ouadebatons) at and around big stone lake. the isantees occupied the region lying between the mouth of the minnesota river and spirit lake (mille lacs) with their principal village--_kathága_--where the city of minneapolis now stands. these facts account for the "one hundred and twenty leagues" as distances were roughly reckoned by the early french explorers. september , , daniel greysolon duluth, a native of lyons, france, left quebec to explore the country of the dakotas. "the next year ( ) on the nd day of july, he caused the king's arms to be planted in the great village of the nadouessioux (dakotas) called kathio" (_kathága_) "where no frenchman had ever been, also at the songaskicons and houetabons, one hundred and twenty leagues distant from the former. * * * * on this tour he visited mille lacs, which he called lake buade, the family name of frontenac, governor of canada." _neill''s history of minnesota_, p. . this is correct, except the name of the village--_kathio_, which is a misprint or perhaps an error of a copyist. it should be _kathága_. duluth was again at the falls of st. anthony in and returned to lake superior via the mississippi, rum river and mille lacs, according to his own dispatches. franquelin's "_carte de la louisiane_" printed at paris a.d. , from information derived from duluth, who visited france in - , and conferred with the minister of the colonies and the minister of marine--shows the inaccuracy, as to points of compass at least, of the early french explorers. according to this map, lake buade (mille lacs) lies north-west of lake superior and lake pepin lies due west of it. duluth was afterward appointed to the command of fort frontenac near niagara falls, and died there in . the official dispatch from the governor of canada to the french government is, as regards the great explorer, brief and expressive--"captain duluth is dead. he was an honest man." to daniel greysolon duluth, and not to father hennepin, whom he rescued from his captors at mille lacs, belongs the credit of the first exploration of minnesota by white men. father hennepin was a self-conceited and self-convicted liar. daniel greysolon duluth "was an honest man." notes to the sea-gull [ ] _kay-óshk_ is the ojibway name for the sea-gull. [ ] _gitchee_--great,--_gumee_--sea or lake,--lake superior; also often called _ochipwè gitchee gúmee_, great lake (or sea) of the ojibways. [ ] _né-mè-shómis_--my grandfather. "in the days of my grandfather" is the ojibway's preface to all his traditions and legends. [ ] _waub_--white--_o-jeeg_--fisher, (a furred animal). white fisher was the name of a noted ojibway chief who lived on the south shore of lake superior many years ago. schoolcraft married one of his descendants. [ ] _ma-kwa_ or _mush-kwa_--the bear. [ ] the _te-ke-nâh-gun_ is a board upon one side of which a sort of basket is fastened or woven with thongs of skin or strips of cloth. in this the babe is placed and the mother carries it on her back. in the wigwam the _tekenagun_ is often suspended by a cord to the lodge-poles and the mother swings her babe in it. [ ] _wabóse_ (or _wabos_)-the rabbit. _penáy_, the pheasant. at certain seasons the pheasant drums with his wings. [ ] _kaug_, the porcupine. _kenéw_, the war-eagle. [ ] _ka-be-bon-ik-ka_ is the god of storms, thunder, lightning, etc. his home is on thunder-cap at thunder-bay, lake superior. by his magic the giant that lies on the mountain was turned to stone. he always sends warnings before he finally sends the severe cold of winter, in order to give all creatures time to prepare for it. [ ] _kewáydin_ or _kewáytin_, is the north wind or north-west wind. [ ] _algónkin_ is the general name applied to all tribes that speak the ojibway language or dialects of it. [ ] this is the favorite "love-broth" of the ojibway squaws. the warrior who drinks it immediately falls desperately in love with the woman who gives it to him. various tricks are devised to conceal the nature of the "medicine" and to induce the warrior to drink it; but when it is mixed with a liberal quantity of "fire-water" it is considered irresistible. [ ] translation: woe-is-me! woe-is-me! great spirit, behold me! look, father; have pity upon me! woe-is-me! woe-is-me! [ ] snow-storms from the north-west. [ ] the ojibways, like the dakotas, call the _via lactea_ (milky way) the pathway of the spirits. [ ] _shinge-bis_, the diver, is the only water-fowl that remains about lake superior all winter. [ ] _waub-èsé_--the white swan. [ ] _pé-boân_, winter, is represented as an old man with long white hair and beard. [ ] _según_ is spring (or summer). this beautiful allegory has been "done into verse" by longfellow in _hiawatha_. longfellow evidently took his version from schoolcraft. i took mine originally from the lips of _pah-go-nay-gie-shiek_--"hole-in-the-day"--(the elder) in his day head-chief of the ojibways. i afterward submitted it to _gitche shabásh-konk_, head-chief of the _misse-sah-ga-é-gun_--(mille lacs band of ojibways), who pronounced it correct. "hole-in-the-day," although sanctioned by years of unchallenged use, is a bad translation of _pah-go-nay-gie-shiek_, which means a _clear spot in the sky_. [illustration: hole-in-the-day. _from an original photograph in the author's possession._] he was a very intelligent man; had been in washington several times on business connected with his people, and was always shrewd enough to look out for himself in all his treaties and transactions with the government. he stood six feet two inches in his moccasins, was well-proportioned, and had a remarkably fine face. he had a nickname--_que-we-zánc_--(little boy) by which he was familiarly called by his people. the pillagers--_nah-kánd-tway-we-nin-ni-wak_--who live about leech lake (_kah-sah-gah-squah-g-me-cock_) were opposed to _pa-go-nay-gie-shiek_, but he compelled them through fear to recognize him as head-chief. at the time of the "sioux outbreak" in "hole-in-the-day" for a time apparently meditated an alliance with the _po-áh-nuck_ (dakotas) and war upon the whites. the pillagers and some other bands urged him strongly to this course, and his supremacy as head-chief was threatened unless he complied. messengers from the dakotas were undoubtedly received by him, and he, for a time at least, led the dakotas to believe that their hereditary enemies, the ojibways, would bury the hatchet and join them in a war of extermination against the whites. "hole-in-the-day," with a band of his warriors, appeared opposite fort ripley (situated on the west bank of the mississippi river between little falls and crow wing), and assumed a threatening attitude toward the fort, then garrisoned by volunteer troops. the soldiers were drawn up on the right bank and "hole-in-the-day" and his warriors on the left. a little speech-making settled the matter for the time being and very soon thereafter a new treaty was made with "hole-in-the-day" and his head men, by which their friendship and allegiance were secured to the whites. it was claimed by the pillagers that "hole-in-the-day" seized the occasion to profit personally in his negotiations with the agents of the government. in "hole-in-the-day" took "another wife." he married helen mccarty, a white woman, in washington, d.c., and took her to his home at gull lake (_ka-ga-ya-skúnc-cock_) literally, _plenty of little gulls_. she bore him a son who is known as joseph h. woodbury, and now ( ) resides in the city of minneapolis. his marriage with a white woman increased the hatred of the pillagers, and they shot him from ambush and killed him near _ninge-tá-we-de-guá-yonk_--crow wing--on the th day of june, . at the time of his death, "hole-in-the-day" was only thirty-seven years old but had been recognized as head-chief for a long time. he could speak some english, and was far above the average of white men in native shrewdness and intelligence. he was thoroughly posted in the traditions and legends of his people. the ojibways have for many years been cursed by contact with the worst elements of the whites, and seem to have adopted the vices rather than the virtues of civilization. i once spoke of this to "hole-in-the-day." his reply was terse and truthful--"_mádgè tche-mó-ko-mon, mádgè a-nische-nábé: menógé tche-mó-ko-mon, menó a-nischè-nábè_.--bad white men, bad indians: good white men, good indians." [ ] _nah_--look, see. _nashké_--behold. [ ] _kee-zis_--the sun,--the father of life. _waubúnong_--or _waub-ó-nong_--is the white land or land of light,--the sun-rise, the east. [ ] the bridge of stars spans the vast sea of the skies, and the sun and moon walk over on it. [ ] the _miscodeed_ is a small white flower with a pink border. it is the earliest blooming wild flower on the shores of lake superior, and belongs to the crocus family. [ ] the _ne-be-naw-baigs_, are water-spirits; they dwell in caverns in the depths of the lake, and in some respects resemble the _unktéhee_ of the dakotas. [ ] _ogema_, chief,--_oge-má-kwá_--female chief. among the algonkin tribes women are sometimes made chiefs. _net-nó-kwa_, who adopted tanner as her son, was _oge-mâ-kwá_ of a band of ottawas. see _john tanner's narrative_, p. . [ ] the "bridge of souls" leads from the earth over dark and stormy waters to the spirit-land. the "dark river" seems to have been a part of the superstitions of all nations. [ ] the _jossakeeds_ of the ojibways are soothsayers who are able, by the aid of spirits, to read the past as well as the future. finis note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original lovely illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) timid hare the little captive by mary h. wade author of "little cousin series", etc. illustrated by louis betts whitman publishing co. racine -- chicago [illustration: cover art] [frontispiece: buffalo rib was a handsome youth.] contents captured before the chief the new home hard work the change the visit the mischief maker the happy day the dog feast the festival moving day the journey the medicine man the winter hunt list of color plates buffalo rib was a handsome youth the stone and her son black bull were hurrying home "sweet grass, listen to me" [missing from book] "i soon had a fire started" black bull was helpless bent horn's mind was made up they looked with wonder at the medicine man "help me, great spirit" [missing from book] captured swift fawn sat motionless on the river-bank. "lap, lap," sang the tiny waves as they struck the shore. "lap, lap," they kept repeating, but the little girl did not heed the soft music. her mind was too busy with the story white mink had told her that morning. after the men had started off on a buffalo hunt swift fawn had left the other children to their games in the village and stolen away to the favorite bathing place of the women-folk. "no one will disturb me there," she had said to herself, "and i want to be all by myself to think it over." after she had been there for sometime. swift fawn drew out from the folds of her deerskin jacket a baby's sock, and turned it over and over in her hands curiously. never had she seen the like of it before. how pretty it was! who could have had the skill to weave the threads of scarlet silk in and out of the soft wool in such a dainty pattern? was it--the child whispered the word--could it have been her mother? white mink had always been so good to her, surely no real mother could have been more loving than the indian woman who had watched over her and tended her, and taught her from the time when three bears had brought her, a year-old baby, to his wife. where he found the little one, he had never told. and so she was a white child. how strange it was! yet she had grown up into a big girl, loving the ways of the red people more and more deeply for eight happy years. "surely," thought the child, "i could not have loved my own parents more than i do white mink and three bears." "i wish--oh, so hard!" she added with a lump in her throat, "that white mink had not told me. i don't want to remember there ever was--something different." with these last words swift fawn lifted the little sock and was about to hurl it into the water, when she suddenly stopped as she remembered white mink's last words. "i give this shoe into your keeping," the woman had said solemnly. "i have spoken because of my dream last night, and because of its warning i bid you keep the shoe always." with a little sigh, swift fawn drew back from the edge of the stream and replaced the shoe in the bosom of her jacket. then she stretched herself out on the grassy bank and lay looking up into the blue sky overhead. how beautiful it was! how gracefully the clouds floated by! one took on the shape of a buffalo with big horns and head bent down as if to charge. but it was so far away and dreamlike it was not fearful to the child. and now it changed; the horns disappeared; the body became smaller, and folded wings appeared at the sides; it was now, in swift fawn's thoughts, a graceful swan sailing, onward, onward, in the sky-world overhead. the little girl's eyes winked and blinked and at last closed tightly. she had left the prairie behind her and entered the land of nod. she must have slept a long time, for when she awoke the sun had set, and in the gathering darkness, she was aware of a man's face with fierce dark eyes bent over her own. "ugh! ugh!" the man was muttering. "it is a daughter of the mandans. a good prize!" as he spoke he rose to his feet and swift fawn, shaking with fear, knew that he was beckoning to others to draw near. a moment afterwards she was surrounded by a party of warriors. they were taller than the men of her own tribe, and were straight and noble in shape, but their faces were very stern. "they must belong to the 'dahcotas,'" thought the child. "and they are our enemies." many a tale had swift fawn heard of the fierce dahcotas, lovers of war and greatly to be feared. it was a terrible thought that she was alone and in their power, with the night coming on. "ugh! what shall we do with her?" the brave who had discovered her said to the others. "she is fair to look upon," replied one. "but she is a mandan," was the quick answer of another. as he spoke he looked proudly at the scalp lock hanging from his shoulder, for he and his companions has just been out on the war path. "let our chief decide," said the first speaker. "it is best that bent horn should settle the question." "ugh! ugh!" grunted the others, not quite pleased at the idea. however, they said nothing more, and turned away, moving softly with their moccasined feet to the place where their horses were restlessly waiting to go on with the journey. swift fawn's captor now seized her hand, saying gruffly, "get up." dragging her to his horse's side, he lifted her up, bound her to the animal's back, leaped up after her and a moment afterwards the whole party were galloping faster and faster into the night. hour after hour they traveled with never a stop. at last, by the light of the stars. swift fawn knew that she was nearing a large camp, made up of many tent-homes. before the chief as the party entered the camp the dogs came out to meet them, barking in delight at their masters' return. swift fawn's captor rode up with her to the largest of the tents, or tepees as the dahcotas called them. springing from his horse, he unbound the little girl, and again seizing her hand, drew the scared child into the lodge. a bright fire was blazing in the fireplace, for the night was cold. beside it squatted a noble-looking brave, wrapped in a bear-skin robe, and with eagles' feathers waving from the top of his head. chains of wampum hung around his neck and his face was painted in long, bright lines. not far from him sat a beautiful and richly-dressed young girl, his daughter. she looked kindly at swift fawn as if to say: "do not fear, little girl." "behold, a child of the mandans. i give her into your hands, great chief," said swift fawn's captor to the brave by the fireside. bent horn seemed in no hurry to speak, as he looked keenly at the child who could not lift her eyes for fear. "is the girl of the weak mandans to live, or to be a slave among our people?" asked the warrior. bent horn was about to answer, as his daughter broke in: "father, let her live. i wish it." the chief turned toward the young girl with love in his eyes. he smiled as he said, "sweet grass shall have her wish." his face became stern, however, as he added: "that shrinking creature must be trained. give her into the keeping of the stone, and let this girl henceforth be known as timid hare." as bent horn spoke he motioned to swift fawn's captor to take her away, and the man at once led her out of the lodge and through the camp to a small tepee on the outskirts, where the old woman, the stone, lived with her deformed son, black bull. the new home drawing aside the heavy buffalo-skin curtain which covered the doorway, the man shoved his little captive inside and followed close behind her. "ugh, timid hare," he said scornfully. "this is your new home. does it please you?" the child shuddered without answering, as she mustered courage to look about her. the fire on the hearth in the middle of the tepee was smouldering. with the help of its dim light the little girl could see piles of dirty buffalo robes on either side; the walls of the tent, also made of buffalo skins, were blackened by smoke. long shadows stretching across the floor, seemed to take on fearful shapes in the child's fancy as the low fire, now and then, gave a sudden leap upward. furthermore, the tepee was empty,--no face looked out from any corner; no voice spoke to the new-comers. "ugh!" the man shrugged his shoulders as he grunted in displeasure. he was in haste to get to his own lodge where a supper of bear steak was no doubt awaiting him. "where can the stone be that she is not here, now that darkness covers the earth?" he muttered. "and the crooked boy away too!" the sentence was barely ended when the sound of quick, soft footsteps could be heard outside. the stone and her son, black bull, were hurrying home. they had been gone all day, having gone to a clay pit miles away from the village to get a certain clay for making red dye with which the stone wished to color some reeds for basket weaving. night had taken then by surprise, and wolves howling in the distance made them travel as fast as the poor deformed youth could go. [illustration: the stone and her son black bull were hurrying home.] the stone was the first of the two to enter the lodge. she was bent and wrinkled, and her cunning, cruel eyes opened wide with surprise as she saw her visitors. "ugh! what does this mean?" she asked sharply, as she looked from the brave to the cowering child still held in his strong grip. "are you bringing a daughter of the pale-faces into my keeping?" she ended with a wicked laugh. "not much better--it is a child of the mandans who fell into my hands. better to kill her at once--a goodly scalp that!" with the words the man pointed to his captive's long and beautiful hair. he continued: "but bent horn says, no. let the stone take her into her keeping. so it is then--timid hare, shall draw water for you and wait upon you and your son." black bull, who had followed close upon his mother, stood staring at the captive with wild eyes. the poor fellow was small-witted, as well as deformed. he was eighteen years old, yet he had no more understanding than a small child. his face was not cruel like his mother's, however. his eyes were sad and spoke of a longing for something--but what that something was even black bull himself did not understand. as the little girl looked at him a tiny hope leaped up in her heart. "he will not be unkind to me, at any rate," she decided. "and i am sorry for him that he has such a mother." following close upon this thought came another. it was of white mink--dear, kind white mink who was perhaps at this very moment weeping over the loss of her little swift fawn. "but there is no swift fawn--she is dead, dead, dead. there is now only timid hare, the slave of a wicked woman."--the child shuddered at the thought. she came to herself to hear the stone saying, "leave her to me and i will train her in the good ways of the dahcotas." the man smiled grimly and went his way, and the woman turning to her charge said: "come, don't stand there cowering and useless. busy yourself. pile wood upon the fire and put water in that kettle. my son and i are hungry and would eat, and the meat must yet be cooked." with the stone's words came a blow on timid hare's shoulder. it was the first one the child had ever felt, and though it did not strike hard upon the body, it fell with heavy weight upon her aching heart. stumbling about, she tried to do the old squaw's bidding, and the two soon had the supper ready. the stone now served her son on his side of the fireplace, after which she herself began to eat her fill while swift fawn sat huddled in a dark comer, hungrily watching. "take that," the woman said as she finished her meal, and she threw a half-picked bone to the little girl. then she got up, put away whatever food was left from the supper, and began to spread out some buffalo skins, first for her son's bed on his side of the tepee, then on her own side for herself to sleep on. "you can lie where you are," she told timid hare, pointing to the pile of skins on which the child was crouching. soon afterwards the stone and black bull were quietly sleeping, while the little captive, with tears rolling down her cheeks, lay thinking of the kind friends far away and of the dreadful things that might happen on the morrow. all at once she remembered the baby's sock hidden in her dress, and of white mink's words. perhaps--perhaps--the sock would help her. but how? she must guard it, at any rate; not even the stone should discover it. kind sleep was already drawing near. the tired eyes no longer shed tears. till morning should come, timid hare was free from trouble. hard work the sun, shining into the tepee through the opening over the fireplace, roused the stone to her day's work. she lost no time in setting a task for her little slave. handing her a needle carved from the bone of a deer and thread made of a deer's sinew, she hade her sew up a rent in the skin curtain of the doorway. poor timid hare! she had learned to embroider and to weave baskets in the old home, but sewing on heavy skins had never yet fallen to her share of the daily duties. "there will be time enough," white mink had thought, "when the little fingers have grown bigger and the tender back is stronger." so now the hands were clumsy, and the stitches were not as even as they should be. the stone watched her with a scowl and frequent scoldings; often an uplifted arm seemed ready to strike. but seeing that the child was trying to do her best, the expected beating did not come. after she and black bull had eaten their own breakfast of bread made out of wild rice, together with some buffalo fat, she gave a small portion to timid hare. then she and black bull went out of the lodge, leaving the little girl alone at her work. how different--how very different--this home was from the one among the mandans! the old one was so big and comfortable, and there was such a jolly household of parents and grandparents and uncles and aunts, and children of all ages gathered together under one roof. then, too, the floor was so smooth and shiny, and the bedsteads, each one shut off by a curtain and made pretty with fringe and pictures, seemed almost like tiny sleeping rooms. moreover, the banking of earth over the framework of the lodge kept out the chill winds and biting cold of winter. but here, in the stoned tepee, where the skin covering was old and torn, one must often suffer. at least so thought timid hare as she looked up now and then from her work to get acquainted with her new home. "besides, it is so small," she said to herself, "and only two people in the whole household before i came. how strange it is!" it was quite true that the ways of the dahcotas were unlike those of the mandans. each family lived by itself and thus the home did not need to be so large. timid hare did not know this, nor that the people, as a rule, lived in great comfort. they preferred tents, rather than houses like those of the mandans, of frame-work covered with earth because they liked to move from place to place and they could thus carry their homes with them. yet their tepees were warm and comfortable because the covering of strong, thick buffalo skins was generally double. fires were kept burning on their hearths in winter and supplies of food and clothing were easy to obtain from the wild creatures of the woods and prairies. what more could any red people wish? timid hare had heard her foster father tell much of the powerful dahcotas and that they were rich, as indians count riches. "why are they so powerful?" she now asked herself. "ugh! it was because of their fierce war spirit. it was this that made them drive other tribes before them, so that they became free to roam over the prairies and enjoy the richest hunting grounds." "i cannot help myself," now thought the child. "if i should run away, the braves would either find and kill me, or i should be devoured by the hungry wolves that go forth at nightfall." but might not three bears make up a war party and go forth to seek her? "alas! that may not be," timid hare told herself. "my dear father would himself meet death at the hands of these cruel warriors." the rent in the curtain was nearly sewed up when black bull stole into the lodge. he wanted to talk to the little stranger with eyes sad like his own, and he did not wish his mother to know it. behind black bull came his dog, wolfish-looking like most of his breed, but as black bull squatted in his corner, the animal crouched close at his master's side as though he loved him. "poor fellow, he has a pet to follow him about just as i had at home," thought timid hare. "perhaps by-and-by the dog may learn to love me too." there was a big lump in the little girl's throat, and she coughed as she tried to choke it back. "hard work," said black bull as he watched her pulling the coarse thread through the buffalo skin and trying not to tear it. "hard work," he repeated. "too bad." timid hare nodded. "good dog," she ventured after a while, looking at the dog with a sad little smile. "i had a dog; i loved him," she added. "very good dog. he is my friend," replied the youth. "he goes with me everywhere--everywhere. he makes me--not lonely. i call him smoke." black bull put his arm lovingly around smoke's neck and the dog whined softly. it was the only way in which he could say, "i love you, poor master, if no one else does." "my people are great people," black bull went on. "they are very strong." timid hare nodded. "the dahcotas are brave above all men. their bands are so many i could not count them." the very thought of counting a large number made the simple-minded youth look puzzled. "and they are tall and strong of body beyond the red men of all tribes." again timid hare nodded. but she also shuddered as she thought that she was in their power, a helpless captive. then, as her eyes turned towards black bull, they filled with pity. here was one of the dahcotas, at least, who was not strong and tall and well-shaped. nor would he do her harm, she felt sure. black bull had turned to his lute which lay on the floor behind him and begun to play a low, sweet tune when the stone entered the lodge. she looked sharply at timid hare, and then at the work which the little girl had just finished. "ugh! ugh!" grunted the squaw. "you must learn to sew better than that, you little cringing coward. ah, ha! i know something that may help you." the stone cut the air with a switch that she held in her hand. "something else may also help you to gain the spirit of a red woman. of that, by-and-by. and now you shall fetch me fresh water from the spring. black bull, put yourself to some use. show the girl where the water may be drawn." handing an earthen crock to timid hare, she turned to her own work--that of making dye out of the clay she had got the day before. timid hare, holding the big crock as carefully as possible on her shoulder, followed black bull out of the tepee. it seemed good to be outdoors, even in a village of the dahcotas. in the doorway of the next lodge stood a young woman with pleasant eyes and beautiful glossy hair. she looked curiously at the little girl, for she had just heard of her capture. she must have pitied the child, for she smiled kindly at her. black bull, catching the smile, said, "the fountain, this is timid hare. is she not strange to look upon--so fair? she must be like the pale-faces i have never seen." the fountain had no chance to answer, for black bull now turned to his companion. "hurry, timid hare, hurry, lest my mother be angry and beat you." as the two went on their way, the little girl saw other children like herself, playing together and laughing happily. one of them had her doll, and was carrying it in a baby-cradle on her back. she was pretending it was too small to walk, and was singing a lullaby to make it go to sleep. all the children stopped to look at the little stranger. "a mandan! oof!" cried one. "her hair is not black like ours," said another. "nor is her skin as dark. she is more like the pale-faces whom we hate," remarked a third. then they turned to their play as if she were not worth noticing, and poor little timid hare blushed for shame. it was hard indeed that even the children should despise her. a little farther on she noticed a group of men dancing together in the sunlight. they were much taller than the mandan braves, and noble to look upon, as black bull had said. but to the little girl holding in mind the capture of the day before, they seemed cruel and fearful even now while they were dancing. "the dahcotas dance much--always," explained black bull, pointing to the men. "we have many, many dances. for everything there is a dance. when we feast, and before we hunt, when councils are held, when guests come among us, we dance. it is a noble thing to dance. sometimes," he went on, "it is too make us laugh. sometimes it is to make our faces grow long--so!" at this black bull's face took on a look of sadness as though he were grieving. timid hare was used to the dances of the mandans, and she loved them. but they were not so many as those of the dahcotas, she felt sure. why, the night before, whenever she wakened, she heard the sound of dancing in different lodges in the village. "there is the spring. now i go," said black bull, pointing it out half-hidden in a hollow shaded by clumps of bushes. the youth, with smoke who had followed close at his heels ever since leaving the lodge, turned back and timid hare stooped down to fill the crock. as she did so her eyes met a pair of large black ones fastened upon her own, and just above the water's edge. they belonged to the chief's only son young antelope, who had come for a drink of cool water before going off on a hunting trip. he was a handsome youth. as he lay stretched out on the grassy bank above the spring he had heard the sound of timid hare's steps as she drew near, and looked up to see who it was. "oof! the stranger," he said, but he did not scowl like the little girls whom the little captive had passed a few minutes before. the next minute he had sprung to his pony's back and gone galloping away. timid hare thought sadly of the dear foster-brother far away on the wide prairie, as she trudged back with her load to the tepee where the stone awaited her. the change "bad," scolded the squaw as she looked into the crock and saw that some of the water had been spilled on the way home. she reached for her willow switch and used it twice on timid hare's back. "i have a nice little task for you," she said. "do you see this?" she pointed to a dish full of a dull red dye. "it is for you," she continued. "no more pale-faces about us now. you are to take this dye and paint yourself--every part of your body, mind you. then, when you have used this on your hair--" she pointed to a smaller dish containing a black dye--"we may be able to make a dahcota out of you after all." "waste no time," she commanded, as timid hare turned slowly to the dishes of dye. "i leave you now for a little while and when i come back--then i may like to look at you." the stone left the lodge and timid hare was left to change herself so that even white mink would not know her. trained as she had been in the ways of all indians, her tears fell often as she covered her body with the paint. she dare not leave one spot untouched, nor one tress of the beautiful hair that had been white mink's pride. when the work was at last finished, there was no mirror in which to look at herself. once--just once, during her eight years of life among the mandans, she had seen a looking-glass. it was no larger than the palm of her small hand, and belonged to the chief into whose hands it had come from a white hunter years before. it was such a wonderful thing! timid hare thought of it now and wished that she might see the picture that it would of herself reflect. "when i am next sent to the spring," she thought, "i will seek the quiet little pool where some of the water lingers. then, if the clouds give a deep shadow, i can see the timid hare i now am." "good," muttered the stone when she returned and examined her little slave. but when black bull noticed the change, he said nothing--only looked sad. perhaps he felt that the little stranger had somehow lost herself. the visit one day, soon after timid hare's coming, she was sent to the chief's tepee on an errand. the stone and she had been gathering rushes for the chief's daughter sweet grass who wished them for a mat she was weaving. it was to be a surprise for her father; she meant it to be so beautiful that he would wish to sit on it at feasts when entertaining chiefs of other bands. the stone and timid hare had spent many hours searching for the most beautiful rushes, and the old squaw was pleased at having succeeded at last. "sweet grass's mother will give me much bear meat for getting the rushes for her daughter," she thought. but to timid hare she only said: "take these to the home of our chief and place them in the hands of sweet grass. make haste, for she may already be impatient." the stone did not know that sweet grass had ever seen timid hare, nor that she had begged her father for the child's life. the little girl was glad to go. she had thought many times of the chief's daughter, and of her kind face and gentle voice. whenever she had gone near bent horn's tepee she had been on the lookout for sweet grass, but she had not been able to get a glimpse of her. as timid hare trudged along with her load she thought of that dreadful night after her capture. "i think i would have died of fright but for the sight of the chief's beautiful daughter," she said to herself. "but after she spoke, my heart did not beat so hard." now, however, as she neared the chief's lodge, she began to breathe more quickly. the chief had such power! the stone said ugly words to her and did not give her enough to eat; sometimes she beat her; but she would not do her terrible harm because the chief had given the order: care for the child. suppose he should change his mind! trembling, timid hare stopped in front of the lodge. "come in. i am waiting for you," called a sweet voice, for sweet grass, looking up from her work, had caught a glimpse of the little girl standing outside with her bundle. timid hare's heart leaped for joy. it was so good to have some one speak kindly to her once more. and the young girl who had spoken was so lovely to look upon! her eyes shone like stars. her long hair was bound with a coronet made out of pretty shells. her robe of deer skin was trimmed with long fringe. her moccasins, cut differently from those of the mandans, were bound into shape with ribbons made of rabbit skin. around her neck were many chains that made pleasant music as they jingled against each other. while timid hare was peeping out of the corners of her eyes at this beautiful sight. sweet grass was in her turn examining the little captive. "you are--changed," she said slowly. "what has the stone been doing? ugh! i see. she has tried to make a dahcota out of you. well, it may be well, and yet, i think i liked you better as you were before." "lay the rushes here, beside me," she continued. "and now, little timid hare, tell me about the stone. is she good to you? and black bull--does he treat you well?" sweet grass was tender as a sister as she asked these questions and many others. and timid hare's tongue slowly became brave. she told of the hard work which the stone made her do. she showed scars on her hands which the work had left. and--yes--there were also scars on the little back from the cruel touch of the stone's switch. but black bull--poor black bull! the child spoke of him with loving pity. "i am sorry for him," she said. "he has only his dog to make him happy." "would you like to live with me?" asked sweet grass, when the story was finished. "oh-h!" the little girl drew a long sigh of wonder and delight. if only it were possible! "we will see. i will talk to my father by-and-by. and now you must run home. good-by." the young girl bent over her work and timid hare ran swiftly out of the lodge and back to the stone who was angrily waiting. "you must have stopped on the way, you good-for-nothing. sweet grass could not have kept you all this time," she scolded. the little girl made no answer. "hm! has the child won the heart of the chief's daughter?" she muttered. "and next it would be the chief himself. that must not be. moreover, no bear meat was sent me. ugh!" the mischief maker that afternoon the sun shone brightly. it was a beautiful day of the late indian summer. sweet grass, taking the mat she was weaving, left the lodge and sought a pleasant spot near the spring to go on with her work. the stone had been skulking about near the chief's lodge for several hours. she wanted to catch sweet grass alone and yet as if she had come upon her by accident. she stealthily watched the young girl as she made her way to the spring, but did not appear before her for some time. when she did, she held some fine rushes in her hands. "i have just found more. you will like them, sweet grass," she said, trying to make her harsh voice as soft as possible. the chief's daughter had never liked the stone; and now, after hearing timid hare's story, it was not easy to act friendly. "for the child's sake, i must not show my dislike," she thought quickly. so she smiled, and looking at the rushes, said, "these are good, very good. i can use them for my mat." she turned to her work while the stone stood silent, watching her. then, suddenly, the old squaw bent over her and said, "sweet grass, listen to me. i sent the child of the mandans to you this morning. she is bad--lazy--very lazy. your father gave her into my keeping and i will train her, though it is hard. no one else would be patient with her wicked, lying ways. no one!" the stone stopped as suddenly as she had begun. she hoped that she had succeeded in making sweet grass believe that the little captive was as bad as she had said. "why do you talk? i do not care to listen to you," said the young girl, looking up into the ugly face bending over her. then she went on with her weaving as though she were alone. there was nothing left for the stone but to go on her way, muttering. "after this," she promised herself, "timid hare shall go little from my sight. i need her to do my bidding and save my steps. she must not be taken from me through any foolish fancy that sweet grass may have taken for her." the happy day that evening the chief, bent horn, sat by his fireside, smoking with his friends. close beside him was his handsome son. on the women's side of the lodge sweet grass and her mother squatted, listening to the stories of the men. as the hours passed by, the visitors rose one by one and went home for the night's sleep. when the last one had gone sweet grass got up from her place and held out to her father the mat she had been making for him. a pretty picture had been woven into the rushes; it had taken all the young girl's skill to do it. "for you, my father," said sweet grass. the chief smiled. he was proud of his young son who gave promise of becoming a fine hunter. but he was also proud of this one daughter. he loved her so dearly that he could not bear to say, no, to anything she might ask of him. "my father," now said sweet grass, "i wish to speak to you of the child timid hare whom you gave into the keeping of the stone." the chief scowled. "that pale-faced daughter of the cowardly mandans? she may thank you that she still lives," he said sternly. "but i have seen her and talked with her, my father, and she has won my heart. i want her to live with me and serve me. will you let it be so?" there was no answer. "and she no longer makes one think of the pale-faced mandans. her skin is now dark with paint so that she looks even as we do." the voice of sweet grass was tender with pleading. "i saw her at the spring one day," broke in young antelope. "the hump-back, black bull, had just left her. her eyes spoke fright, but also a good temper. let my sister have her wish." the chief turned to his wife. in matters of the household the indian woman generally has her will. "let the child come and serve sweet grass," said the squaw who had a noble face and must once have been as beautiful as her daughter. "you shall have your wish." bent horn spoke as though not wholly pleased; but when he saw the delight his words gave sweet grass, his face showed more kindness than his voice. two days afterwards a messenger from bent horn appeared in the stone's doorway. "i bring you word from our chief," he told her. "the captive, timid hare, is to return with me. she will serve the maiden sweet grass." the stone's ugly eyes filled with anger. yet she did not dare refuse the command of the chief. "go," she said turning to timid hare, who was busy at one side of the lodge pounding wild rice into flour. "go, you cowardly good-for-nothing. let the chief discover what i have borne." timid hare was almost overcome with delight. to serve the beautiful maiden, sweet grass! it seemed too good to be true. yet it must be true, for the stone, with uplifted arms, was fairly driving her from the lodge as she would a troublesome mosquito. as the little girl passed through the doorway she met black bull entering, with smoke at his heels. over the youth's eyes swept a cloud of fear at the unusual brightness in the little girl's face. he felt instantly that she was going to leave him. sad as she had been, she had brought a little sunshine into the dreary home. "good-bye, black bull," she whispered. "i will not forget you." then, without a last glance at the stone, she hurried on after the messenger who had come for her. when she reached the chief's lodge, there was sweet grass waiting for her with a kind smile. the maiden's mother, whom she had never seen before, was also in the lodge. the squaw was busily cooking the evening meal like any other red woman, though her husband was the chief of the whole band. sweet grass had just motioned to the little girl to take her place beside her, when young antelope burst into the tepee. the day before he had gone hunting, and when night came had not appeared. his mother and sister had worried at his absence, but the chief had said, "we will not fear. the lad has no doubt lost his way. but he knows how to care for himself." and now young antelope stood once more in the home, safe and happy! he had had an exciting adventure, and was eager to tell of it. yes, he had lost his way out on the prairies. he was ashamed of this, for he had been taught that an indian should always watch the winds and the heavens, and carefully mark every change in the appearance of the country over which he travels; then it is an easy matter to find his way back without trouble. but his pony was fleet of foot, and the birds he was seeking flew fast. after many, many miles had been covered and his game bag had been filled, he decided to return. but he was hungry; he thought of the tender birds he had killed and of the feast they would make. "i will rest for awhile and cook some of the game," he decided. all this he now told his mother on his return home. so eager was he to describe his adventure that he did not notice the little stranger squatting beside sweet grass, and looking at him with admiring eyes. "i soon had a fire started," he continued, "and then began to roast my game. ugh! the feast was a fine one. but after it was over, i began the search for home. then darkness fell suddenly and fast gathering clouds covered the setting sun. i was alone and far from you all. i could hear wolves howling in the distance. they were hungry as i had been." [illustration: "i soon had a fire started."] the youth shivered. then he went on: "but i remembered how to keep wolves from drawing too near. they do not love fire. i piled the brush high, and flames leaped up in the air. all night long i did this, and now, my mother and my sister, i am with you once more. no harm befell me." "you did well, my son," replied his mother. that was all, but her eyes shone with pride and gladness. so did those of sweet grass who exclaimed, "those fearful wolves! how i hate them! but you are safe. they did not devour you; that is enough." the dog feast soon after timid hare went to live in bent horn's lodge to serve his beautiful daughter, there was a good deal of excitement in the village. messengers had come from other bands of the dahcotas saying that their chiefs were about to make a visit to bent horn. they wished to talk over important matters in regard to the good of the whole tribe. both braves and squaws were busy preparing for the great time. there would be dances and feasts, games and wrestling matches. the warriors must make ready their best garments and noblest head-dresses. they must use much grease and paint to look as grand as possible when receiving their guests. sweet grass and her mother had much to do getting ready for the celebration, and timid hare tried her best to help. she ran errands, pounded rice, brought wild sweet potatoes and dried berries from the pit in which the stores of food were buried, and tended the fire in which buffalo and bear meat were roasting, for much would be eaten during the visit which would last several days at least. sweet grass smiled upon her little helper. so did her mother. both of them were pleased with the child, and came near forgetting that she was not one of their own people. then came the day when word was sent through the village that the coming visit was to be celebrated by the feast of the dog. different families would be asked to sacrifice the dog dearest to their hearts. every one believed it would be a fit offering to the great spirit and would fill his heart with tenderness for his red children. it would also bind the hearts of the chiefs more closely together. as timid hare went through the village one morning--it was the last one before the visitors should arrive--she met black bull. it was the first time she had seen him since she had gone from his lodge. as she ran towards him he did not seem glad to see her. he simply looked at her pitifully. "what is the matter, black bull? is there trouble? tell me. everyone else is happy over the coming good time." timid hare spoke fast. "my dog," he said brokenly. "my one friend must die. i must give him as a sacrifice, so my mother has said." the poor fellow began to cry. "your dear smoke! i am so sorry for you, black bull." timid hare's own eyes filled with tears. "so sorry," she repeated. "i will try to save him, though." the deformed youth looked wildly about him as he spoke, as though he feared some one besides timid hare would hear him. then, without waiting for her to reply, he went off in the direction of the spring, beyond which was a sharp bluff. below this bluff flowed a stream of water which in the autumn was deep--so deep that any one could drown in it easily. "i wonder what black bull meant when he said he would try to save smoke," thought timid hare, as she stood watching. "he cannot save the dog. how hard it is! no one in the village seems to care for black bull. the stone, his own mother, treats him cruelly. the dog is his only friend, as he says. i will tell my young mistress about him. it may be she can help him." as soon as timid hare had done her errand she ran home, still with the thought of black bull's trouble in her mind. she had been in the tepee only a few minutes before sweet grass noticed that something was the matter with her little maid. "what has happened, timid hare?" she asked. "your face is long--so!" she drew her own mouth down at the corners and made herself look so funny that timid hare, sad as she felt, broke into a laugh. "it is black bull," she answered. "he is in trouble. it is greater than it would be with any one else in the village." then she went on to speak of the youth's lonely life, and that even his mother treated him badly. only one loved him: this was the dog smoke who followed him wherever he went and who did not mock him as the children of the village sometimes did. smoke was ever ready to smile at him in the one way dogs can--with his tail. it was smoke's love alone that made black bull glad to live. and now--timid hare's voice broke as she went on to tell of what must soon happen. "poor fellow!" said sweet grass softly. "poor fellow," she repeated, half to herself. as it happened, young antelope was in the lodge when timid hare was telling the story. he was busy making a shield; he intended to wear it when first allowed to go forth on a war party with the older braves. but though he was busy at his work, he listened with interest to the words of timid hare. soon afterwards he left the tepee and ran along the path leading to the spring. "if i see black bull," he thought, "i will speak kindly to him even if he is such a useless creature." when young antelope reached the spring he heard some one talking angrily. this was followed by a cry of fear. the sounds came from the direction of the bluff beyond, but the youth could see no one because of clumps of brush which shut off the view from any one at the spring below. young antelope hurried along, till suddenly he caught a glimpse of two figures on the very edge of the rocky summit of the bluff. one was that of thunder cloud, a worthless fellow; the other which he held struggling in his arms was that of the stoned's deformed son. black bull was helpless; he was at the mercy of thunder cloud who was about to cast him into the stream below. [illustration: black bull was helpless.] "what is this?" shouted young antelope. thunder cloud, startled, turned suddenly about. "i would punish this worthless fellow as he deserves," he answered. "do you know what he dared to do? he brought his dog to yonder brush and fastened him in the midst. he thought to keep the animal from the sacrifice. ugh! a wretched creature indeed. his mother bade me follow him." "make him free," said young antelope with the air of a mighty chief. "my father will take care of him. as for you, go from my sight." thunder cloud, who had already set black bull on his feet, though he still clutched him tightly, let go his hold, and skulked away. "let your dog loose," young antelope now ordered black bull who stood before him, still shivering from fright. "there! now we will go to my father and let him settle the matter. follow me." black bull, with smoke capering about him in the joy of being set free, followed young antelope silently till the two neared the council house where bent horn was busy planning for the coming celebration. there, in the autumn sunlight, they waited till the chief should appear and the son whom he loved dearly should have a chance to ask for a certain boon. that night black bull went to sleep as happy as a king, even though his mother had just given him a beating. smoke was safe! another, young antelope, who had more treasures than he, was willing to make the sacrifice in his place. the festival the celebration was over and timid hare was tired out from excitement. never before had she seen so many wonders. why, the chief of chiefs, the chief of all the dahcotas, had been one of the visitors and had slept in bent horn's tepee. timid hare herself had helped to serve him. and when he had gone forth to the council and to the feasts he was the grandest looking person she had ever beheld in her life. he wore a head-dress of war-eagle feathers. thick and heavy was this head-dress, and beautiful were the feathers beyond compare. the great chief's face shone with grease, and was made fearful to look upon with much paint. on his robe were pictured the many battles in which he had taken part; it was trimmed with a heavy fringe of scalp-locks. his leggings and moccasins were richly embroidered with porcupine quills. he walked forth like a king. the children of the village trembled as they gazed upon him. bent horn looked grand also in his own robes of state. many a day had his wife spent embroidering this robe with porcupine quills and trimming it with fringes of his enemies scalp-locks. heavy chains hung around his neck. his long hair, which he had greased well, had been divided into two parts and crossed on the top of his head, where it was then gathered into a knot. "bent horn's head-dress is almost as handsome as that of the great chief," timid hare said to herself, as she watched the two men walking together towards the council house. the sun shone brightly throughout the whole celebration and the feasts were spread outdoors. the chiefs and braves sat in a half-circle at these feasts and the food was passed to them from steaming kettles. there was bear meat in plenty, fat and rich; baked turtles; juicy buffalo steaks and stews; but at the principal feast of all, only dog flesh was served. then it was that the people of the village gathered in crowds around the feasters to watch and listen. closest of all were the braves and their sons. back of them were the squaws and their little daughters. timid hare, beside her young mistress sweet grass, listened with wonder to the noble speeches of the chiefs. bent horn spoke first of all. "my brother," he said to the great chief, "our hearts are almost bursting with gladness that you are with us today. "and you also"--bent horn continued, turning to one after another of the lesser chiefs, "we welcome you with gladness and feel that the great spirit has sent you to us. in token of our love we have killed faithful dogs that you may feast. may the great spirit bind us closely together. i say no more." as bent horn ended his speech he lifted before the eyes of the feasters a carved necklace made of the claws of grizzly bears, and his own robe of elk skins which he had just taken from his shoulders. then he slowly rose and, going to the side of the guest of honor, he laid the gifts before him. next, he took other gifts--embroidered moccasins and leggings--and presented them to the lesser chiefs. for a moment all were silent. then the guests themselves made speeches, each one telling of his love for bent horn and his band, and giving rich gifts in return. and now the pipe of peace was lighted and brought to bent horn. solemnly he pointed the stem to the north, the south, the east, and the west. last of all, he lifted it towards the sun. then he spoke. "how--how--how," he said slowly. then in silence he smoked it, but only to take one long whiff, after which he held it in turn to the mouths of the other chiefs, that they might smoke it also. not a word was spoken by any one during this solemn time. but as soon as the last guest had smoked, the dog-meat, floating in rich gravy, was brought from the steaming kettles and handed around in wooden bowls among the guests. all ate their fill. then silently, they got up and went away. they had smoked and eaten the sacrifice together. surely, they thought, there could be no better token of their friendship for each other. timid hare looked on from afar. she felt pride in her dear mistress's brother who had given up his own pet dog, in place of black bull. she was also filled with wonder at the greatness of the dahcotas. "they are a mighty tribe," thought the little girl. she drew a long breath of sadness, feeling that she could never hope to go from among them. but when she afterwards looked on at the wrestling matches, races on horseback, and dances such as she had never seen before, she forgot everything else for the moment. her eyes shone with excitement; her breath came quick. never before, it seemed to her, had she seen such skill. when the entertainment of each day ended, however, and timid hare went to her bed of buffalo skins, she would lie thinking of the old home, of the loving white mink, the kind three bears, and the good foster-brother big moose. then tears would roll down over the little girl's cheeks and she would choke back a sob. "can it be," she would think, "that the story white mink told me before i was taken from her, is true? am i truly a white child, and is she not my real mother?" then the little captive would touch the baby's sock fastened by a cord of deer-sinews about her waist and next to her flesh. "it is safe," she would whisper to herself, "and no one here has discovered it--not even the stone. it did not save me from being captured, but it may yet bring good fortune, even as white mink hoped." moving day the visitors had all gone away and the village was once more quiet--that is, as quiet as it might be among the dahcotas, the lovers of the dance and of music. now and then some of the braves went forth on a war-party, or on a hunt after bears or buffaloes. but the buffaloes were scarce, they told their chief; the herds must have wandered far, and the hunters often returned empty-handed. this was bad, because the winter was drawing near and supplies of meat were needed for that long season of bitter cold. one morning bent horn rose earlier than usual and made his way to the council house. there he staid for some time talking with the medicine men and other leading braves of the village. should there be a bear dance and a buffalo dance to call the attention of the great spirit to the needs of his people, that he might send plenty of prey nearer the village? or should the band first move to a different part of the country, where no red man dwelt and where the buffaloes, at least, might be plentiful? when the talk was ended the men who had gathered at the council went their way. bent horn's mind was made up. "my people must move to a new camping ground," he said to himself. "we will journey to the eastward. in that direction, the hunters say, we are likely to draw near the feeding grounds of large herds of buffaloes. tomorrow morning at sunrise we must be on our way." [illustration: bent horn's mind was made up.] the news was quickly carried from one tepee to another and the squaws set to work with a will to prepare for moving. when timid hare heard the news she thought sadly: "shall i go farther than ever from my dear white mink?" the little girl had been so frightened at the time of her capture that she was not sure in which direction she travelled. there was not a moment now, however, to consider herself, as sweet grass and her mother kept the child helping them prepare for the moving. the stores of grain and other dry food, the dishes and kettles and clothing must be packed in readiness for the early start on the morrow. the journey "awake, timid hare, for there is a faint light in the eastern sky. the sun is already rising from his bed." at these words from sweet grass, timid hare's eyes burst wide open and she sprang from her bed. there was much to do at once, for the signal must be given to the whole village from the home of bent horn. so quickly did his squaw and young daughter work that a half-hour afterwards the walls of the chief's tepee were flapping in the morning breeze. immediately afterwards the same thing happened to every other home in the village. next, down came the tent poles of the chief's tepee, and then those of all the others. timid hare went quickly here and there, obeying the orders of her mistress. ropes of skin must be brought to tie the poles into two bundles. the little girl must help hold these bundles in place, while bent horn's best pack horses were brought up and the bundles fastened against the sides of their bodies, and at the same time allowed to drag on the ground behind. "quick, timid hare," sweet grass would say, pointing now to this bundle of bedding, and now to another of dishes or clothing. the horses were restless and the bundles must be well-fastened to the poles before they should be ready to start. some of bent horn's dogs were also loaded in the same way. while sweet grass and her mother, with timid hare's help, were packing their own stores every other woman in the village was doing the same. in a wonderfully short time the procession was on its way, the squaws leading the pack horses. when they started out, however, the braves and youths, riding their favorite horses and ponies, were already far ahead. timid hare trudged bravely along beside her young mistress who led one of the pack horses. she carried a big bundle on her back. so did sweet grass and her mother. so did all the other squaws except those who were too old and feeble. "let us move fast while we are fresh," sweet grass would say now and then when timid hare began to lag. "when the day grows old, then is the time to move like the turtle." as they travelled along. timid hare passed the stone who looked at her with ugly eyes. the old squaw was thinking, "had it not been for my sending the girl that day to sweet grass she would now be making my load light. fool that i was!" afterwards timid hare and her mistress talked with the fountain, the pretty bride who lived near the stone. the fountain smiled pleasantly at the little girl. she said, "sometime, timid hare, you shall come to see me in the new home. i may have a surprise for you." the sun had nearly set when word came down the line: "the chief has chosen a place for the new camp. it is beside a stream of clear water and the tracks of buffaloes are not far distant." timid hare was glad to hear the news, because her feet and back ached. she was not strong as an indian girl of her own age should be and she knew it. "but i look like one," she said to herself. she was glad now that her body was stained. she had colored it afresh of her own accord just before the journey, for she felt she would not be jeered at by the children of the dahcotas so long as her hair and body were of the same color as their own. when the new camping ground was reached, she was very tired. "but i must not show it," she thought. "i must be bright and cheerful." so she moved quickly, helping to set up the tepee and get supper for the family. but her eyelids closed the moment she lay down to rest, and she knew nothing more till the barking of the dogs roused her the next morning. at the same time she heard sweet grass and her mother talking together. "the fountain was last seen when we stopped at a spring to get water in the late afternoon," one of them was saying. "i hope she is safe," replied the other, "and that the gray wolf was not abroad." timid hare shuddered. "where can the fountain be?" she wondered. "she is so good and so pretty, i hope she is unharmed." the very next moment a neighbor appeared in the door. "the fountain has just reached us," she said. "she spent the night by the spring, and she now brings with her a baby son. he is a lusty child. may he grow up to be a noble warrior!" "i will go to her and give her my best wishes," declared the chief's wife. "it is a good sign for the new home that one more is added to our people." soon afterwards timid hare and her young mistress were also on their way to visit the young mother. she was very happy. so was her husband. so was her baby; at least it seemed happy to timid hare as she looked at it nestling quietly in its mother's arms. the little girl longed for it to open its eyes. "by and by," the fountain told her with a smile, "my son will awake. but now he must sleep, for he finds this world a strange one, and he is tired." "the great spirit has been kind to the fountain," said sweet grass as she walked homeward with her little maid. "how powerful he must be," declared timid hare thoughtfully. "whenever he speaks to us in the thunder and lightning i tremble with fear. but when i looked at the little baby just now i felt his love." the medicine man the next morning timid hare was allowed to go once more to visit the fountain and her little son. the baby lay fastened into a pretty frame the young mother had made for him. the straps were embroidered with porcupine quills, and finished very neatly. as timid hare entered the tepee, the fountain was about to lift the baby in his frame to her back. "i am going to see black bull," she said. "he is ill. he has not been well since before the dog feast." timid hare at once thought of a reason for black bull's illness,--he had worried much over the thought of losing his dog. but young antelope had not told her that he came near losing his life and of his terrible fright at the time. "has the medicine man visited black bull?" asked timid hare. "not yet." the fountain shook her head sadly. "i doubt if the stone cares whether her son lives or dies. but i am going to see the poor creature. afterwards, if the medicine man has not been sought, i will ask my husband to get his help." the fountain started on her errand, and timid hare went back to the chief's lodge to tell her young mistress what she had learned. on the way she passed a clump of trees beneath which she saw several people sitting and listening to the voice of a tall man who stood before them. he was one of the most powerful medicine men of the band. "he must be speaking of some great mystery," thought timid hare. "how noble he is! how much he must know! it may be that he is telling of the secrets he reads in the fire." turning her eyes towards the listeners, she saw they were thinking deeply of his words. they looked with wonder at the medicine man. "yes, he must be speaking of the secrets no one but he can discover." [illustration: they looked with wonder at the medicine man.] when timid hare reached home she spoke of this medicine man to her mistress. "if only he could go to black bull, the sickness would leave the poor fellow," she said. soon afterwards sweet grass herself sought the medicine man. she brought him presents of buffalo marrow, deer meat, and a juicy, well-cooked land turtle. then she asked his help for the deformed youth, and he promised to go to him. the next day word came to the chief's lodge that black bull had gone to join the people of the grave. though the medicine man had gone to him and worked his mysteries with songs and drum beating, the great spirit had not willed that he should live. "better so," declared bent horn, when the news was brought to the lodge. "black bull was of no help to his people. he suffered, and was not happy. better so!" "i will take his dog," sweet grass promised her sad little maid. "smoke shall be cared for, though his master has left him." the winter hunt the new home proved to be a good one. each time the hunters went forth they returned with a load of game. the squaws were kept busy drying buffalo and bear meat, packing away the marrow and cleaning the bones and skins. every part of the animals was put to some use. the days of the long, cold winter were at hand, and all must work busily. timid hare had much to do, but sometimes she was allowed to play outside of the tepee with other children; they were kinder to her now that she lived in the chief's home. she had plenty to eat, and sweet grass and her mother treated her well, but she longed for something that was lacking here but was freely given in the old home: it was love. the snow fell thick and fast. it covered the prairie for miles in every direction. in some places it was deeper than timid hare was tall. a thick crust formed over the top. young antelope set to work to make himself new snowshoes. as he bent the hoops for the frames and crossed them with networks of leather strings. timid hare looked on with longing. she had had snowshoes of her own before, and she had enjoyed skimming over the snow fields on them, but they were far away--very far away. "i will help you make some shoes," young antelope told her, when he caught the look. "you can do the easy part, and i will do the hard." timid hare was pleased because young antelope did not notice her very often. the snowshoes were soon made and the little girl longed to try them. the very next day young antelope went out with the men on a winter hunt. there were large stores of meat in the village, but the cold was bitter and more warm buffalo robes were needed for beds and coverlets. moreover, at this time of the year the fur of the animals was heaviest. "it will be easy to get our prey," bent horn said to his son the night before the hunt. "there is little snow on the south slopes of the hills, where the buffaloes will be feeding. we can take them by surprise and drive them down into the ice-crusted fields. they are so heavy that their feet will fall through. then the hunter can draw near on his swift snowshoes, and will pierce the heart of his prey with his spear without trouble." "i will be such a hunter on the morrow," the youth had replied. "my spear is already sharpened. it shall bring death to more than one of the creatures that provide us with comfort through the moon of difficulty," as he had been taught to call the month of january. as young antelope skimmed along over the snow fields next morning, he thought more than once of the little captive at home. "she behaves well," he said to himself, "and she will be a good homekeeper when she is older. it may be--it may be--that i will yet choose her for my wife." young antelope was only sixteen years old, but he was already thinking of getting married! it was the way of his people. the girls married even younger than the boys--sometimes when only twelve or thirteen years had passed over their heads. it was therefore not strange that the chief's son should be considering what wife he would choose. with many of the braves away on the hunt, the village was quiet, and the squaws took a little vacation from their work, as on the morrow they must be very busy caring for the supplies brought home by the hunters. in the afternoon sweet grass said kindly: "timid hare, you have been a good girl and worked hard of late. you may have the rest of the day for play. try your new snowshoes, if you like." the rest of the day--two whole hours before sunset! it seemed too good to be true. never had such a thing happened to the child since she left the home of the mandans. without wasting a moment, timid hare got the snowshoes and left the tepee. for a moment she looked about her to see if any other little girl would like to join her in a skim over the fields. but all seemed busy at their games, and even now she was not enough at home with any one of them to ask them to leave their own play and go off with her, a captive. so, binding on the shoes, she started off alone. what fun it was to move so fast and so smoothly! how clear was the air! how delightful it was to feel the blood rushing freely through every part of her body! her cheeks tingled pleasantly; her heart beat with joy. mile after mile the child darted on in the opposite direction from that taken by the hunters in the morning. so happy, so free felt the child that she forgot how far she was travelling. sometimes there were little rolls in the land. she would get up her speed as she approached them, so as to have force enough to reach the summit of a roll with ease. and then what fun it was to travel like the wind down the other side! on, on, on! and then suddenly, timid hare came to herself. where was the village? in what direction? could she not see smoke rising somewhere behind her, telling of the fires burning in the homes of the people? there was nothing, nothing, to guide her back--only some fields apparently untrodden in every direction. so light was the little girl's body that her shoes had rarely pressed through the crust. the short winter day was near its end. a bank of clouds was gathering about the setting sun, they told of an approaching storm; so also spoke the chill wind that blew in the child's face. fright clutched at timid hare's heart. she thought of the power of the storm-king. here, in the snowy wilderness, it seemed that she must perish. was there no one to turn to in this time of danger? yes. "help me, great spirit," cried the child, lifting her hands towards the sky where she believed he dwelt. with that cry came a feeling that somehow her prayer would be answered. and at the same time timid hare remembered the little sock which she always carried in her bosom. she pressed a hand against the place where it should rest. yes, it was safe. "white mink had faith in it. so will i," timid hare said to herself. many a time during the hard days with the stone, she had repeated the same words. it had always helped her to do so. and now she turned in the direction she hoped was the village of the dahcotas, but her feet felt numb. it was hard to travel. hark! what was that? it seemed as though men's voices could be heard shouting to each other in the distance. they came nearer. could it be that sweet grass had sent some of the village boys out after her? nearer! nearer! timid hare stood still, listening. if they would only hurry! she suddenly felt drowsy--the snow-chill was benumbing her whole body, and somehow she no longer cared whether she was found or not. she tottered, fell. the next thing she knew, she was lying in the arms of a man with kind blue eyes. he was smiling at her, and he was white! another man, white like himself, was rubbing her arms and legs. "all right now," the first man was saying to the other. "poor little thing! how did she ever get out here? that dahcota village is a good dozen miles from here, and the child's moccasins tell that she is of that tribe." "we must waste no time in getting farther away from them ourselves," replied the other. "little time would be wasted in taking our scalps if they caught us alone." "but we can't leave this helpless creature," said the first speaker. "do you know, ben, she must be about the age of my own little daughter if--" the man's voice broke suddenly. "poor fellow--yes, i understand. you never will get over that blow. but, really, tom, we must not stay here. the savages may be upon us any moment. here, use this. it may bring her to." the speaker held out a bottle of cordial which the man who held timid hare held to her lips. she tried to swallow, but it choked her. "there," she said with a gasp, "it is enough," and she lifted herself up. "good," said both men, who knew a little of the indian tongue. "oh, but my shoe!" cried the little girl in fright. it had slipped a little from its usual resting place, and she now missed it. in spite of being alone on the snow-covered prairie, with two strangers, her first thought was of the little talisman white mink had given into her keeping. oh! she could feel it pressing against her waist, and she gave a happy sigh. in the meantime, the men had decided that it would be best to take the child to their camp. the rest could be settled afterwards. "can you trust yourself to your snowshoes again?" the man whom his friend called tom asked her gently. she nodded, and with the help of one of her companions, they were bound on her feet. a biscuit was now given her--she had never tasted its like before--and she ate greedily. this was followed by another swallow of the cordial, and the little girl was ready for the start. many miles were before her, but the men often took hold of her hands to give her fresh courage. besides, she was greatly excited. what was coming? were these strangers bringing her back to the village of the dahcotas, or guiding her to something far different? from time to time one of the men struck a match--such a wonderful thing it seemed to timid hare--and looked at a tiny instrument he carried in his pocket. it seemed to tell him if they were travelling in the right direction. "how wise," thought timid hare, "the white people must be! perhaps they are as wise as the medicine men!" and she--why, she was of their own race, though her stained skin did not show it! at the thought, she lifted her hand to her side. yes, her treasure was safe! when it seemed to the child as if she could not move her feet longer, a faint light shone out in the distance. the camp of the white men would soon be reached. when the travellers at last arrived at the journey's end there was great excitement among the men who were anxiously watching for the return of their two companions. they had feared that their friends had lost their way and been overcome by cold; or more probable, that they had been killed or captured by the indians. they were in the dahcota country,--this they knew; also that these dahcotas were fierce warriors and hated the white men. how surprised they were to see what they thought was an indian child with their companions! how did it happen? what was to be done with her? but now, as timid hare almost fell to the floor of the warm, brightly lighted tent, all saw that she was quite exhausted. she must be fed, and afterwards sleep. there would be time enough to question her next morning. hot soup was brought, and never, it seemed, had anything ever tasted so delicious to timid hare. and the heat of the burning logs--how pleasant it was! timid hare was too tired to be afraid, or even to think, and even as she ate, she fell sound asleep. she awoke next morning with her hand clutching the place where the sock lay hidden, and saw a kind face bending over her. it belonged to the same man who had held her when she roused from the snow-chill. "what is it?" he asked gently. he pointed to her hand. "it is--my charm. it is to bring me good." "may i see it?" the man's voice was so kind that it filled timid hare with perfect trust. "you will--help me?" the child's eyes were full of pleading. "yes, little one." slowly timid hare drew forth the sock. it was faded and soiled, yet the pattern in which the silk had been woven into the worsted was quite plain. "how did--why, tell me at once how you got this." the man's voice was half stern, half pleading. "it was--so." with this beginning timid hare repeated the story as white mink had told it to her. many a time she had since told it to herself during her hard life with the stone. it was such a strange story--so full of wonder to her still. the wonder of it was in her voice even now. the man listened with half-closed eyes, but saying never a word till she finished. then, as in a dream, he said in a low tone: "it is my baby's sock--the pattern is one planned by my dear wife alice who died out on this lonely prairie. and then--the sudden attack of the dahcotas--and i made prisoner, while my baby alice was left behind to perish. afterwards i was rescued, though i cared little to live." "but child, child," he burst out, "though your eyes have the same color, the same expression as those of my dear wife, your skin is that of the red people." "i stained it--the stone made me--and when i saw sweet grass liked me best so, i put on the color again and yet again." "god be praised! i have found my darling who, i thought, was lost forever." the man lifted timid hare and clasped her tenderly in his arms. and she--well, the little girl rested there content and happy. the next minute the rest of the party who had been out exploring, entered the tent with word that the start must be made at once. the clouds of the night before had lifted; the snow might not begin falling for several hours, and the most must be made of the morning towards reaching a larger camp where sledges would carry them a long ways towards a fur station. great was the joy of the others when they learned the good fortune that had come to their friend, and merry was the whole party as it made its way onward. yes, timid hare, or rather alice, now more like the swift fawn she had been, was merry too. but as she went on her way to the new and beautiful life that would soon be hers, she begged her father to take her back by-and-by for a visit to her foster-parents and big moose in the mandan village on the river. and he promised gladly. a daughter of the sioux [illustration: ray's troop.] _a tale of the indian frontier_ by general charles king author of "the colonel's daughter," "fort frayne," "an army wife," etc., etc. "he is bred out of that bloody strain that haunted us in our familiar paths." _king henry v._ illustrations by frederic remington _and_ edwin willard deming new york the hobart company copyright, , by the hobart company. _a daughter of the sioux_ _published march , _ * * * * * contents chapter i. foreshadowed events, chapter ii. absent from duty, chapter iii. a night encounter, chapter iv. the sign of the bar shoe, chapter v. a grave discovery, chapter vi. first sight of the foe, chapter vii. blood will tell, chapter viii. more strange discoveries, chapter ix. bad news from the front, chapter x. "i'll never go back," chapter xi. a fight with a fury, chapter xii. the ordeal by fire, chapter xiii. wounded--body and soul, chapter xiv. a vanished heroine, chapter xv. a woman's plot, chapter xvi. night prowling at frayne, chapter xvii. a rifled desk, chapter xviii. burglary at blake's, chapter xix. a slap for the major, chapter xx. the sioux surrounded, chapter xxi. thanksgiving at frayne, chapter xxii. behind the bars, chapter xxiii. a soldier entangled, chapter xxiv. the death song of the sioux, _l'envoi._ * * * * * illustrations frontispiece "the major sought to block that morning's ride in vain" ray's troop "the soldier leaped from his saddle" "with one magnificent red arm uplifted" "some few of their number borne away by their comrades" "charge with me the moment the leaders yell" "hush! she's coming"--she was there * * * * * a daughter of the sioux chapter i foreshadowed events the major commanding looked up from the morning report and surveyed the post adjutant with something of perturbation, if not annoyance, in his grim, gray eyes. for the fourth time that week had lieutenant field requested permission to be absent for several hours. the major knew just why the junior wished to go and where. the major knew just why he wished him not to go, but saw fit to name almost any other than the real reason when, with a certain awkward hesitancy he began: "w--ell, is the post return ready?" "it _will_ be, sir, in abundant time," was the prompt reply. "you know they sent it back for correction last month," hazarded the commander. "and you know, sir, the error was not mine," was the instant rejoinder, so quick, sharp and positive as to carry it at a bound to the verge of disrespect, and the keen, blue eyes of the young soldier gazed, frank and fearless, into the heavily ambushed grays of the veteran in the chair. it made the latter wince and stir uneasily. "if there's one thing i hate, field, it is to have my papers sent back by some whipsnapper of a clerk, inviting attention to this or that error, and i expect my adjutant to see to it that they don't." "your adjutant does see to it, sir. i'm willing to bet a month's pay fewer errors have been found in the papers of fort frayne than any post in the department of the platte. general williams told you as much when you were in omaha." the major fairly wriggled in his cane-bottomed whirligig. what young field said was true, and the major knew it. he knew, moreover, there wasn't a more painstaking post adjutant from the missouri to the mountains. he knew their monthly reports--"returns" as the regulations call them--were referred to by a model adjutant general as model papers. he knew it was due to young field's care and attention, and he knew he thought all the world of that young gentleman. it was just because he thought so much of him he was beginning to feel that it was high time to put a stop to something that was going on. but, it was a delicate matter; a woman was the matter; and he hadn't the moral courage to go at it the straightforward way. he "whip sawed" again. thrumming on the desk with his lean, bony fingers he began:-- "if i let my adjutant out so much, what's to prevent other youngsters asking similar indulgence?" the answer came like the crack of a whip:-- "nothing, sir; and far better would it be for everybody concerned if they spent more hours in the saddle and fewer at the store." this was too much for the one listener in the room. with something like the sound of a suppressed sneeze, a tall, long-legged captain of cavalry started up from his chair, an outspread newspaper still full-stretched between him and the desk of the commander, and, thus hidden as to his face, sidled sniggering off to the nearest window. young field had fearlessly, if not almost impudently, hit the nail on the head, and metaphorically rapped the thrumming fingers of his superior officer. some commanders would have raged and sent the daring youngster right about in arrest. major webb knew just what field referred to,--knew that the fascinations of pool, "pitch" and poker held just about half his commissioned force at all "off duty" hours of the day or night hanging about the officers' club room at the post trader's; knew, moreover, that while the adjutant never wasted a moment over cards or billiards, he, the post commander, had many a time taken a hand or a cue and wagered his dollars against those of his devoted associates. they all loved him. there wasn't "a mean streak in his whole system," said every soldier at fort frayne. he had a capital record as a volunteer--a colonel and, later, brigade commander in the great war. he had the brevet of brigadier general of volunteers, but repudiated any title beyond that of his actual rank in the regulars. he was that _rara avis_--a bachelor field officer, and a bird to be brought down if feminine witchery could do it. he was truthful, generous, high-minded, brave--a man who preferred to be of and with his subordinates rather than above them--to rule through affection and regard rather than the stern standard of command. he was gentle and courteous alike to officers and the rank and file, though he feared no man on the face of the globe. he was awkward, bungling and overwhelmingly, lavishly, kind and thoughtful in his dealings with the womenfolk of the garrison, for he stood in awe of the entire sisterhood. he could ride like a centaur; he couldn't dance worth a cent. he could snuff a candle with his colt at twenty paces and couldn't hit a croquet ball to save his soul. his deep-set gray eyes, under their tangled thatch of brown, gazed straight into the face of every man on the platte, soldier, cowboy, indian or halfbreed, but fell abashed if a laundress looked at him. billy ray, captain of the sorrel troop and the best light rider in wyoming, was the only man he ever allowed to straddle a beautiful thoroughbred mare he had bought in kentucky, but, bad hands or good, there wasn't a riding woman at frayne who hadn't backed lorna time and again, because to a woman the major simply couldn't say no. and though his favorite comrades at the post were captains like blake and billy ray, married men both whose wives he worshipped, the major's rugged heart went out especially to beverly field, his boy adjutant, a lad who came to them from west point only three years before the autumn this story opens, a young fellow full of high health, pluck and principle--a tip top soldier, said everybody from the start, until, as gregg and other growlers began to declaim, the major completely spoiled him. here, three years only out of military leadingstrings, he was a young cock of the walk, "too dam' independent for a second lieutenant," said the officers' club element of the command, men like gregg, wilkins, crane and a few of their following. "the keenest young trooper in the regiment," said blake and ray, who were among its keenest captains, and never a cloud had sailed across the serene sky of their friendship and esteem until this glorious september of -, when nanette flower, a brilliant, beautiful brunette came a visitor to old fort frayne. and it was on her account the major would, could he have seen the way, said no to the adjutant's request to be absent again. on her account and that of one other, for that request meant another long morning in saddle with miss flower, another long morning in which "the sweetest girl in the garrison," so said they all, would go about her daily duties with an aching heart. there was no woman at fort frayne who did not know that esther dade thought all the world of beverly field. there was only one man who apparently had no inkling of it--beverly field himself. she was the only daughter of a veteran officer, a captain of infantry, who at the age of fifty, after having held a high command in the volunteers during the civil war, was still meekly doing duty as a company officer of regulars nearly two decades after. she had been carefully reared by a most loving and thoughtful mother, even in the crude old days of the army, when its fighting force was scattered in small detachments all over the wide frontier, and men, and women, too, lived on soldier rations, eked out with game, and dwelt in tents or ramshackle, one-storied huts, "built by the labor of troops." at twelve she had been placed at school in the far east, while her father enjoyed a two years' tour on recruiting service, and there, under the care of a noble woman who taught her girls to be women indeed--not vapid votaries of pleasure and fashion, esther spent five useful years, coming back to her fond father's soldier roof a winsome picture of girlish health and grace and comeliness--a girl who could ride, walk and run if need be, who could bake and cook, mend and sew, cut, fashion and make her own simple wardrobe; who knew algebra, geometry and "trig" quite as well as, and history, geography and grammar far better than, most of the young west pointers; a girl who spoke her own tongue with accuracy and was not badly versed in french; a girl who performed fairly well on the piano and guitar, but who sang full-throated, rejoiceful, exulting like the lark--the soulful music that brought delight to her ageing father, half crippled by the wounds of the war days, and to the mother who so devotedly loved and carefully planned for her. within a month from her graduation at madame piatt's she had become the darling of fort frayne, the pet of many a household, the treasure of her own. with other young gallants of the garrison, beverly field had been prompt to call, prompt to be her escort when dance or drive, ride or picnic was planned in her honor, especially the ride, for mr. adjutant field loved the saddle, the open prairie or the bold, undulating bluffs. but field was the busiest man at the post. other youngsters, troop or company subalterns, had far more time at their disposal, and begged for rides and dances, strolls and sports which the post adjutant was generally far too busy to claim. it was esther who brought lawn tennis to frayne and found eager pupils of both sexes, but field had been the first to meet and welcome her; had been for a brief time at the start her most constant cavalier. then, as others began to feel the charm of her frank, cordial, joyous manner, and learned to read the beauty that beamed in her clear, truthful eyes and winsome, yet not beautiful face, they became assiduous in turn,--two of them almost distressingly so,--and she could not wound them by refusals. then came a fortnight in which her father sat as a member of a court-martial down at old fort laramie, where were the band, headquarters and four troops of the ----th, and captain and mrs. freeman, who were there stationed, begged that mrs. dade and esther should come and visit them during the session of the court. there would be all manner of army gaieties and a crowd of outside officers, and, as luck would have it, mr. field was ordered thither as a witness in two important cases. the captain and his good wife went by stage; esther and beverly rode every inch of the way in saddle, camping over night with their joyous little party at la bontè. then came a lovely week at laramie, during which mr. field had little to do but devote himself to, and dance with, esther, and when his final testimony was given and he returned to his station, and not until then, esther dade discovered that life had little interest or joy without him; but field rode back unknowing, and met at frayne, before esther dade's return, a girl who had come almost unheralded, making the journey over the medicine bow from rock springs on the union pacific in the comfortable carriage of old bill hay, the post trader, escorted by that redoubtable woman, mrs. bill hay, and within the week of her arrival nanette flower was the toast of the bachelors' mess, the talk of every household at fort frayne. and well she might be. dark and lustrous were her eyes; black, luxuriant and lustrous was her hair; dark, rich and lustrous her radiant beauty. in contour her face was well nigh faultless. it might have been called beautiful indeed but for the lips, or something about the mouth, that in repose had not a soft or winsome line, but then it was never apparently in repose. smiles, sunshine, animation, rippling laughter, flashing, even, white teeth--these were what one noted when in talk with miss flower. there was something actually radiant, almost dazzling, about her face. her figure, though _petite_, was exquisite, and women marked with keen appreciation, if not envy, the style and finish of her varied and various gowns. six trunks, said bill hay's boss teamster, had been trundled over the range from rawlins, not to mention a box containing her little ladyship's beautiful english side-saddle, melton bridle and other equine impedimenta. did miss flower like to ride? she adored it, and bill hay had a bay half thoroughbred that could discount the major's mare 'cross country. all frayne was out to see her start for her first ride with beverly field, and all frayne reluctantly agreed that sweet essie dade could never sit a horse over ditch or hurdle with the superb grace and unconcern displayed by the daring, dashing girl who had so suddenly become the centre of garrison interest. for the first time in her life mrs. bill hay knew what it was to hold the undivided attention of army society, for every woman at fort frayne was wild to know all about the beautiful newcomer, and only one could tell. hay, the trader, had prospered in his long years on the frontier, first as trader among the sioux, later as sutler, and finally, when congress abolished that title, substituting therefore the euphemism, without material clog upon the perquisites, as post trader at fort frayne. no one knew how much he was worth, for while apparently a most open-hearted, whole-souled fellow, hay was reticence itself when his fortunes or his family were matters of question or comment. he had long been married, and mrs. hay, when at the post, was a social sphinx,--kind-hearted, charitable, lavish to the soldiers' wives and children, and devotion itself to the families of the officers when sickness and trouble came, as come in the old days they too often did. it was she who took poor ned robinson's young widow and infant all the way to cheyenne when the sioux butchered the luckless little hunting party down by laramie peak. it was she who nursed captain forrest's wife and daughter through ten weeks of typhoid, and, with her own means, sent them to the seashore, while the husband and father was far up on the yellowstone, cut off from all communication in the big campaign of ' . it was she who built the little chapel and decked and dressed it for easter and christmas, despite the fact that she herself had been baptized in the roman catholic faith. it was she who went at once to every woman in the garrison whose husband was ordered out on scout or campaign, proffering aid and comfort, despite the fact long whispered in the garrisons of the platte country, that in the old, old days she had far more friends among the red men than the white. that could well be, because in those days white men were few and far between. every one had heard the story that it was through her the news of the massacre at fort phil kearny was made known to the post commander, for she could speak the dialects of both the arapahoe and the sioux, and had the sign language of the plains veritably at her fingers' ends. there were not lacking those who declared that indian blood ran in her veins--that her mother was an ogalalla squaw and her father a french canadian fur trapper, a story to which her raven black hair and brows, her deep, dark eyes and somewhat swarthy complexion gave no little color. but, long years before, bill hay had taken her east, where he had relatives, and where she studied under excellent masters, returning to him summer after summer with more and more of refinement in manner, and so much of style and fashion in dress that her annual advent had come to be looked upon as quite the event of the season, even by women of the social position of mrs. ray and mrs. blake, the recognized leaders among the young matrons of the ----th cavalry, and by gentle mrs. dade, to whom every one looked up in respect,--almost in reverence. despite the mystery about her antecedents there was every reason why mrs. hay should be held in esteem and affection. bill hay himself was a diamond in the rough,--square, sturdy, uncompromising, generous and hospitable; his great pride and glory was his wife; his one great sorrow that their only child had died almost in infancy. his solecisms in syntax and society were many. he was given at times to profanity, and at others, when madame was away, to draw poker; but officers and men alike proclaimed him a man of mettle and never hesitated to go to him when in financial straits, sure of unusurious aid. but, even had this not been the case, the popularity of his betterhalf would have carried him through, for there was hardly a woman at frayne to speak of her except in terms of genuine respect. mrs. hay was truth telling, sympathetic, a peacemaker, a resolute opponent of gossip and scandal of every kind, a woman who minded her own business and was only mildly insistent that others should do likewise. she declined all overtures leading to confidences as to her past, and demanded recognition only upon the standard of the present, which was unimpeachable. all the same it came something like a shock to society at frayne that, when she appeared at the post this beautiful autumn of -, nearly three months later than the usual time, she should be accompanied by this brilliant and beautiful girl of whom no one of their number had previously heard, and whom she smilingly, confidently presented as, "my niece, miss flower." [illustration: "the major sought to block that morning's ride in vain."] there was a dance the night the dades got home from laramie. nearly all day long had they driven in the open buckboard over the rough, winding road along the platte, and mrs. dade was far too tired to think of going, but esther was so eager that her father put aside his precious paper, tucked her under his arm and trudged cheerily away across the parade toward the bright lights of the hop room. they had a fairly good string orchestra at frayne that year, and one of strauss's most witching waltzes--"sounds from the vienna woods"--had just been begun as father and daughter entered. a dozen people, men and women both, saw them and noted what followed. with bright, almost dilated, eyes, and a sweet, warm color mantling her smiling face, esther stood gazing about the room, nodding blithely as she caught the glance of many a friend, yet obviously searching for still another. then of a sudden they saw the bonny face light up with joy uncontrollable, for mr. field came bounding in at the side door, opening from the veranda of the adjutant's office. he saw her; smiled joyous greeting as he came swiftly toward her; then stopped short as a girl in black grenadine dropped the arm of her cavalier, the officer with whom she was promenading, and without a moment's hesitation, placed her left hand, fan-bearing, close to the shoulder knot on his stalwart right arm, her black-gloved right in his white-kidded left, and instantly they went gliding away together, he nodding half in whimsical apology, half in merriment, over the black spangled shoulder, and the roseate light died slowly from the sweet, smiling face--the smile itself seemed slowly freezing--as the still dilated eyes followed the graceful movements of the couple, slowly, harmoniously winding and reversing about the waxen floor. even at the point she had never seen more beautiful dancing. even when her stanchest friend, mrs. blake, pounced upon her with fond, anxious, welcoming words, and mrs. ray, seeing it all, broke from her partner's encircling arm, and sped to add her greeting, the child could hardly regain self-control, and one loving-hearted woman cried herself to sleep that night for the woe that had come into the soft and tender eyes which had first beamed with joy at sight of beverly field, then filled with sudden dread immeasurable. but the major sought to block that morning ride in vain. the impetuous will of the younger soldier prevailed, as he might have known it would, and from the rear gallery of his quarters, with his strong fieldglass, major webb watched the pair fording the platte far up beyond pyramid butte. "going over to that damned sioux village again," he swore between his set teeth. "that makes the third time she's headed him there this week," and with strange annoyance at heart he turned away to seek comfort in council with his stanch henchman, captain ray, when the orderly came bounding up the steps with a telegraphic despatch which the major opened, read, turned a shade grayer and whistled low. "my compliments to captains blake and ray," said he, to the silent young soldier, standing attention at the doorstep, "and say i should be glad to see them here at once." that night the sentries had just called off half past one when there was some commotion at the guard-house. a courier had ridden in post haste from the outlying station of fort beecher, far up under the lee of the big horn range. the corporal of the guard took charge of his reeking horse, while the sergeant led the messenger to the commander's quarters. the major was already awake and half dressed. "call the adjutant," was all he said, on reading the despatch, and the sergeant sped away. in less than five minutes he was back. "i could get no answer to my knock or ring, sir, so i searched the house. the adjutant isn't there!" chapter ii absent from duty for a moment the major stood in silence; then, briefly saying, "call captain ray," turned again to the dimly lighted hallway of his commodious quarters, (the women thought it such a shame there should be no "lady of the house" for the largest and finest of the long line known as "officers' row") while the sergeant of the guard scurried away to the soldier home of the senior cavalry captain on duty at the post. when the major again came forth his field glasses were in his hand and he had hurried down the steps and out into the broad sheen of the moonlight when he caught sight of the courier seated on the horseblock at the gate, wearily leaning his head upon his gauntleted hand. webb stopped short: "come right in here, my lad," he cried, "i want to speak with you," and, followed slowly by the soldier, he entered his parlor, and whirled an easy chair in front of the open fireplace. "sit right down there now, and i'll be with you in a minute," he added; bustled into the rear room and presently reappeared with a decanter and glass; poured out a stiff tot of monongahela; "a little water?" he asked, as the trooper's eye brightened gratefully. a little water was added and off came the right hand gauntlet. "i drink the major's health and long life to him," said the soldier, gulping down the fluid without so much as a wink. then, true to his training, set down the glass and stood strictly at attention. "you've had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, i'll be bound," said webb. "now, i've got to see some of my officers at once. you make yourself at home here. you'll find cold beef, bread, cheese, pickles, milk, if you care for it, and pie right there in the pantry. take the lamp in with you and help yourself. if you want another nip, there's the decanter. you've made splendid time. did you meet no indians?" "not one, sir, but i saw smokes at sunset out toward eagle butte." "your name--i see you belong to captain truscott's troop." "kennedy, sir; and i thank the major." "then i'll leave you in charge until you've had your fill," said the commander. "then go over to 'f' troop's quarters and get a bed. tell anybody who comes i've gone to the flagstaff." with that the major stalked from the room, followed by the irishman's adoring eyes. a moment later he stood by the tall white staff at the edge of the northward bluff, at whose feet the river swept by in musical murmurings. there he quickly focussed his glass, and gazed away westward up the platte to where but the evening before a score of indian lodges dotted the other bank, perhaps two miles away. the september moon was at its full and, in that rare, cloudless atmosphere, flooding the valley with its soft, silvery light so that close at hand, within the limits of the garrison, every object could be almost as distinctly seen as in broad day-light, but, farther away, over the lowlands and the river bottom and the rolling prairie stretching to the northern horizon, the cottonwoods along the stream or in the distant swales made only black blotches against the vague, colorless surface, and the bold bluffs beyond the reservation limits south of the flashing waters, the sharp, sawlike edge of the distant mountain range that barred the way to the west, even the cleancut outlines of eagle butte, the landmark of the northward prairie, visible for fifty miles by day, were now all veiled in some intangible filament that screened them from the soldier's searching gaze. later in the season, on such a night, their crests would gleam with radiance almost intolerable, the glistening sheen of their spotless crown of snow. all over this broad expanse of upland prairie and wooded river bed and boldly undulating bluff line not so much as a spark of fire peeped through the wing of night to tell the presence of human wayfarer, white, halfbreed or indian, even where the sioux had swarmed, perhaps two hundred strong, at sunset of the day gone by. close at hand, northernmost of the brown line, was the double set of quarters occupied by captains blake and ray, the latter, as senior, having chosen the half nearest the bluff because of the encircling veranda and the fine, far-extending view. a bright light gleamed now behind the blinds of the corner room of the second floor, telling that the captain was up and dressing in answer to the commander's summons, but all the rest of the dozen houses were black, save where at the middle of the row a faint glow came from the open doorway at the commanding officer's. across the broad level of the parade were the long, low barracks of the troops, six in number, gable-ending east and west. closing the quadrangle on the south were the headquarters buildings and the assembly room, the offices of the adjutant and quartermaster, the commissary and quartermaster's storehouses, etc. at the southwest angle stood the guard-house, where oil lamps, backed by their reflectors of polished tin, sent brilliant beams of light athwart the roadway. beyond these low buildings the black bulk of the medicine bow mountains, only a dozen miles away, tumbled confusedly against the sparkling sky. all spoke of peace, security, repose, for even in the flats under the westward bluff, where lay the wide extended corrals, hay and wood yards and the stables, not one of the myriad dogs that hung about the post was lifting up his voice to bay the autumn moon. even those easily-started night trumpeters, the big missouri mules, sprawled about their roomy, sand-floored stables and drowsed in placid comfort, wearied with their musical efforts of the earlier hours of the night and gathering impetus for the sonorous braying with which they should presently salute the dawn. beyond the guard-house, at the edge of the plateau overlooking the westward flats, but invisible from the flagstaff bluff, stood the big wooden edifice known as the store, with its card and billiard room for the officers on the southern side, another for the enlisted men upon the northern, the bar and general merchandise establishment compressed between them. southward, farther still, surrounded by crude greenhouses abounding in potted plants and beds of vine and vegetables, was the big and somewhat pretentious house of the post trader himself, his own stables and corral being half way down the slope and well away from those of the garrison. "out of sight," muttered webb, "but by no means out of mind," for it was safe to say the thoughts of more than half the men and women making up the social element of fort frayne had been centering within the last few days beneath the roof that gave shelter to that brilliant, fascinating beauty nanette flower. ten days a denizen of the fort, it seemed as though she had been there as many weeks, so completely had she accepted the situation and possessed herself of the ins and outs of garrison life. the women had called, of course, and gone away filled with unwilling admiration, for the girl's gowns and graces were undeniable. the married men, as was the army way, had called with their wives on the occasion of the first visit. the bachelors, from webb down to the junior subaltern, had called in little squads at first; afterwards, except the major, they sought to see miss flower when other fellows were not present. even hartley and donovan, the two whose devotions to esther dade had been carried to the verge of oppression, and who were on terms of distant civility only when compelled to appear together in the presence of women or their other superiors, had been moved to more than one visit at the hays', but hartley speedily returned to his undesired siege at the quarters of captain dade, while donovan joined forces with two other youngsters, bruce and putney, because it gave them comfort to bother field; who, being the adjutant, and a very busy man, could visit only at certain hours of the day or evening. now, it had become apparent to the boys that despite her general attitude of cordiality their attentions were not what mrs. hay so much desired as those of the major commanding. twice had he been invited to dine within the week of nanette's coming. once he accepted. the second time he begged off on plea of a previous engagement, subsequently made, to go shooting with blake. it was the bachelor heart and home of major webb to which mrs. hay would have laid vicarious siege, small blame to her, for that indomitable cross-examiner, mrs. wilkins, wife and manager of the veteran ranker now serving as post quartermaster, had wormed out of mrs. hay the admission that nanette had no fortune. she was the only daughter of a half brother, very dear to mrs. hay, whom she had lost, she said, long years before. to do her justice, it was quite apparent that miss flower was no party to the plan, for, though she beamed on webb as she did on all, she frankly showed her preference for the younger officers who could dance as well as ride, and either dancing or riding was her glory. she danced like a sylph; she seemed to float about the room as though on air; she rode superbly, and shirked no leap that even ray and field took with lowered hands and close gripping knees. she was joyous, laughing, radiant with all the officers, and fairly glowed with cordiality for all the women. but it speedily developed that she would rather dance with field than any of the others, probably because he was by far the best waltzer, and to ride with him, because, ray excepted, there was none to excel him in the saddle. ten days had she been at frayne and within that time had become as thoroughly at ease and home as though it had been her abiding place since babyhood. it was plain to see that big bill hay almost worshipped this lovely _protegée_ of the wife he more than worshipped. it was plain to see that webb uneasily held aloof, as though fearful of singeing his shrivelling wings. it was plain to see that the hitherto indomitable mrs. wilkins was puzzled. it was not so plain to see that there were two women at the post on whom miss flower's charms made slight impression--mesdames blake and ray--two wise young matrons who were known to have few secrets from each other and no intimacies--or rather no confidences--with any other woman at fort frayne--mrs. dade possibly excepted. but what they thought, their liege lords stood ready to swear to; and it was to them webb turned in his perplexity when it became apparent that his young adjutant was ensnared. it was to ray he promptly opened his heart, as that veteran of a dozen indian campaigns, then drawing his fourth "fogy," came hastening out to join the commander. "here's confirmation of the telegram. read that, ray," said webb, handing him the despatch from fort beecher. "then come with me to field's. he's missing." "missing!" cried ray, in consternation, as he hurriedly opened the page. "in god's name what do you mean?" "i mean he isn't in quarters and hasn't been in bed to-night. now i need him--and it's two o'clock." even as he spoke the voice of the sentry at the guard-house rang out the watch call through the still and sparkling night. it was taken up by number two back of the storehouses, and his "all's well" was still echoing among the foothills, prolonged and powerful, when number three, down at the quartermaster's corral, began his soldier song; and so, alert, cheery, reassuring, the sentries sent their deep-voiced assurance on its unbroken round to the waking guardian at the southwest angle, and as his final "a-a-a-ll's w-e-ell" went rolling away over bluff and stream and prairie, ray lifted a grave and anxious face from the fateful paper. "lame wolf out? that's bad in itself! he's old red cloud's nephew and a brute at best. stabber's people there yet?" he suddenly asked, whirling on his heel and gazing westward. "can't make out even with my glasses. all dark as pitch among the cottonwoods, but kennedy, who made the ride, says he saw smokes back of eagle butte just before sunset." "then you can bet they won't be there at dawn--the warriors at least. of course the women, the kids and old men will stay if only for a blind. he had forty fighting men, and wolf's got at least two hundred. what started the row?" "the arrest of those two young bucks on charge of killing finn, the sheep herder, on the piney last week. i don't believe the sioux began it. there's a bad lot among those damned rustlers," said webb, snapping the glass into its well-worn case. "but no matter who starts, we have to finish it. old plodder is worried and wants help. reckon i'll have to send you, ray." "ready whenever you say, sir," was the prompt and soldierly reply. even marriage had not taken the edge from ray's keen zest for campaigning. "shall i have out my sergeant and cooks at once? we'll need to take rations." "yes, but wait with me till i wire the chief at laramie. come to the office." so saying the post commander turned and strode away. the captain glanced at the upper window where the light now dimly burned, but blind and window were open, and a woman's form appeared. "it's all right, maidie," called the captain, softly. "may have to start out on scout at daybreak. that's all. home soon," and with a reassuring wave of the hand, turned again to his stanch friend and commander. "i hate to send you--again," said webb. "you were out in june, and the others have had only short scouts since--" "don't bother. what's a cavalryman for? shall we?--i--can't believe it--some how," and ray stopped, glanced inquiringly at the major, and then nodded toward the doorway of the third house on the row. the ground floor was occupied by field as his quarters, the up-stair rooms by putney and ross. "come in," said the major, briefly, and, pushing through the gate they softly entered the dark hallway and struck a light in the front room. a wood fire was smouldering on the andirons in the wide brick chimney place. an open book, face downward, was on the centre table. two embroidered slippers lay as though hurriedly kicked off, one under the sofa beyond the mantelpiece, the other half way across the worn carpet. striking another match at the doorway, ray passed on to the little inner room,--the bed chamber. on the bed, carelessly thrown, were the young officer's best and newest forage cap, undress uniform coat and trousers. he had used them during the evening when calling at the hays'. on the floor were the enamelled leather buttoned boots he wore on such occasions. the bed was otherwise untouched. other boots and shoes in orderly row stood against the wall beside the plain, unpainted wardrobe. the spurred riding boots and the knee-tight breeches were gone. turning back to the front room, ray found the major, his face gray and disturbed, holding forth to him an open envelope. ray took it and glanced at the superscription. "lieutenant beverly field, fort frayne," and returned it without a word. both knew the strange, angular, slashing hand-writing at a glance, for both had seen and remarked it before. it was nanette flower's. dropping the envelope on the table--he had found it on the floor--webb led the way to the open air. there was then no time to compare views. there stood the sergeant. "sir," said he, with a snap of the gloved left hand at the brown tube nestling in the hollow of the shoulder, "number five reports that he has heard galloping hoofbeats up the bench twice in the last half hour, and thought he saw distant horsemen,--three;--couldn't say whether they were indians or cowboys." "very good, sergeant," was the major's brief answer. "send for the telegraph operator and my orderly." the sergeant turned. "one moment," called ray,--"your pardon, major--my first sergeant, too, and--sergeant, have any sentries reported horses taken out from the stables to-night?" "not one, sir," and, stanch and sturdy, the commander of the guard stood ready to vouch for his men. "that's all!" a quick salute, a face to the right about and the sergeant was gone. webb turned and looked inquiringly at ray. "i asked, sir," was that officer's brief explanation, "because wherever field has gone he wore riding dress." chapter iii a night encounter comforted by abundant food, refreshed and stimulated by more than two or three enthusiastic toasts to the health of the major the men so loved, trooper kennedy, like a born dragoon and son of the ould sod, bethought him of the gallant bay that had borne him bravely and with hardly a halt all the long way from beecher to frayne. the field telegraph had indeed been stretched, but it afforded more fun for the sioux than aid to the outlying posts on the powder and little horn, for it was down ten days out of twelve. plodder, lieutenant colonel of infantry commanding at beecher, had been badly worried by the ugly demonstrations of the indians for ten days past. he was forever seeing in mind's eye the hideous details of the massacre at fort phil kearny, a few miles further on around the shoulder of the mountains, planned and carried out by red cloud with such dreadful success in ' . plodder had strong men at his back, whom even hordes of painted sioux could never stampede, but they were few in number, and there were those ever present helpless, dependent women and children. his call for aid was natural enough, and his choice of kennedy, daring, dashing lad who had learned to ride in galway, was the best that could be made. no peril could daunt the light-hearted fellow, already proud wearer of the medal of honor; but, duty done, it was kennedy's creed that the soldier merited reward and relaxation. if he went to bed at "f" troop's barracks there would be no more cakes and ale, no more of the major's good grub and rye. if he went down to look after the gallant steed he loved--saw to it that kilmaine was rubbed down, bedded, given abundant hay and later water--sure then, with clear conscience, he could accept the major's "bid," and call again on his bedward way and toast the major to his irish heart's and stomach's content. full of pluck and fight and enthusiasm, and only quarter full, he would insist, of rye, was kennedy as he strode whistling down the well-remembered road to the flats, for he, with captain truscott's famous troop, had served some months at frayne before launching forth to indian story land in the shadows of the big horn range. kennedy, in fact, essayed to sing when once out of earshot of the guard-house, and singing, he strolled on past the fork of the winding road where he should have turned to his right, and in the fulness of his heart went striding southward down the slope, past the once familiar haunt the store, now dark and deserted, past the big house of the post trader, past the trader's roomy stables and corral, and so wended his moonlit way along the rawlins trail, never noting until he had chanted over half a mile and most of the songs he knew, that frayne was well behind him and the rise to the medicine bow in front. then kennedy began to laugh and call himself names, and then, as he turned about to retrace his steps by a short cut over the bottom, he was presently surprised, but in no wise disconcerted, to find himself face to face with a painted sioux. there by the path side, cropping the dewy grass, was the trained pony. here, lounging by the trail, the thick black braids of his hair interlaced with beads, the quill gorget heaving at his massive throat; the heavy blanket slung negligently, gracefully about his stalwart form; his nether limbs and feet in embroidered buckskin, his long-lashed quirt in hand; here stood, almost confronting him, as fine a specimen of the warrior of the plains as it had ever been trooper kennedy's lot to see, and see them he had--many a time and oft. in that incomparable tale, "my lord the elephant," the great mulvaney comes opportunely upon a bottle of whiskey and a goblet of water. "the first and second dhrink i didn't taste," said he, "bein' dhry, but the fourth and fifth took hould, an' i began to think scornful of elephants." at no time stood kennedy in awe of a sioux. at this time he held him only in contempt. "how, john," said he, with an irishman's easy insolence, "lookin' for a chance to steal somethin'--is it?" and then kennedy was both amazed and enraptured at the prompt reply in the fervent english of the far frontier. "go to hell, you pock-marked son-of-a-scut! where'd _you_ steal your whiskey?" for five seconds kennedy thought he was dreaming. then, convinced that he was awake, an irishman scorned and insulted, he dashed in to the attack. both fists shot out from the brawny shoulders; both missed the agile dodger; then off went the blanket, and with two lean, red, sinewy arms the sioux had "locked his foeman round," and the two were straining and swaying in a magnificent grapple. at arms' length pat could easily have had the best of it, for the indian never boxes; but, in a bear hug and a wrestle, all chances favored the sioux. cursing and straining, honors even on both for a while, connaught and wild wyoming strove for the mastery. whiskey is a wonderful starter but a mighty poor stayer of a fight. kennedy loosed his grip from time to time to batter wildly with his clinched fists at such sections of sioux anatomy as he could reach; but, at range so close, his blows lacked both swing and steam, and fell harmless on sinewy back and lean, muscular flanks. then he tried a galway hitch and trip, but his lithe antagonist knew a trick worth ten of that. kennedy tried many a time next day to satisfactorily account for it, but never with success. he found himself speedily on the broad of his back, gasping for breath with which to keep up his vocal defiance, staring up into the glaring, vengeful black eyes of his furious and triumphant foeman. and then in one sudden, awful moment he realized that the indian was reaching for his knife. another instant it gleamed aloft in the moonlight, and the poor lad shut his eyes against the swift and deadly blow. curses changed to one wordless prayer to heaven for pity and help. he never saw the glittering blade go spinning through the air. vaguely, faintly he heard a stern young voice ordering "hold there!" then another, a silvery voice, crying something in a strange tongue, and was conscious that an unseen power had loosed the fearful grip on his throat; next, that, obedient to that same power,--one he dare not question,--the indian was struggling slowly to his feet, and then for a few seconds kennedy soared away into cloudland, knowing naught of what was going on about him. when he came to again, he heard a confused murmur of talk about him, and grew dimly aware that his late antagonist was standing over him, panting still and slightly swaying, and that an officer, a young athlete, was saying rebukeful words. well he knew him, as what trooper of the ----th did not?--lieutenant beverly field; but, seeing the reopened eyes it was the indian again who sought to speak. with uplifted hand he turned from the rescuer to the rescued. "you're saved this time, you cur of a mick," were, expurgated of unprintable blasphemy, the exact words of the semi-savage lord of the frontier, "but by the god that made us both i'll get you before another moon, dash dash you, and when i do i'll cut out your blackguard heart and eat it." then bounding on his pony, away he sped at mad gallop, westward. for a moment no further word was spoken. the officer presently helped the soldier to his feet and stayed him, for the latter's legs seemed wobbly. field let his salvage get its breath before asking questions. yet he was puzzled, for the man's face was strange to him. "who are you?" he asked, at length, "and what on earth are you doing out here this time of night?" "kennedy, sir. captain truscott's troop, at fort beecher. i got in with despatches an hour ago--" "what!" cried field. "despatches! what did you do--" "gave 'em to the major, sir. beg pardon; they was lookin' for the adjutant, sir, an' sergeant hogan said he wasn't home." even in the moonlight the irishman saw the color fade from the young officer's face. the hand that stayed him dropped nerveless. with utter consternation in his big blue eyes, field stood for a moment, stunned and silent. then the need of instant action spurred him. "i must go--at once," he said. "you are all right now--you can get back? you've been drinking, haven't you?" "the major's health, sir--just a sup or two." "i've no time now to listen to how you came to be out here. i'll see you by and by." but still the young officer hesitated. one hand grasped the rein of his horse. he half turned to mount, then turned again. "kennedy," he faltered, "you'd have been a dead man if we--if i--hadn't reached you at that moment." "i know it, sir," burst in pat, impetuously. "i'll never forget it--" "hush, kennedy, you _must_ forget--forget that you saw--spoke with me--forget that you saw or heard--any other soul on earth out here to-night. can you promise?" "i'll cut my tongue out before i ever spake the word that'll harm the lieutenant, or the--the--or any one he says, sir. but never will i forget! it ain't in me, sir." "let it go at that then. here, shake hands, kennedy. now, good-night!" another instant and field was in saddle and speeding away toward the post where lights were now dancing about the quartermaster's corral, and firefly lamps were flitting down the slope toward the stables on the flats. ray's men were already up and doing. slowly, stiffly following, pat kennedy rubbed his aching head, with a hand that shook as never did his resolution. his bewildered brain was puzzling over a weighty problem. "the lieutenant's safe all right," he muttered, "but what's gone wid the squaw that was shoutin' sioux at that murdherin' buck?" meantime all fort frayne had seemed to wake to life. no call had sounded on the trumpet. no voice had been raised, save the invariable call of the sentries, passing from post to post the half hours of the night; but the stir at the guard-house, the bustle over at the barracks, the swift footsteps of sergeants or orderlies on the plank walk or resounding wooden galleries, speedily roused first one sleeper, then another, and blinds began to fly open along the second floor fronts, and white-robed forms to appear at the windows, and inquiring voices, male and female, hailed the passerby with "what's the matter, sergeant?" and the answer was all sufficient to rouse the entire garrison. "captain ray's troop ordered out, sir," or "ma'am," as the case might be. no need to add the well-worn cause of such night excursions--"indians." the office was brightly lighted, and there, sleepy-eyed and silent, were gathered many of the officers about their alert commander. ray was down at his stables, passing judgment on the mounts. only fifty were to go, the best half hundred in the sorrel troop, for it was to be a forced march. neither horse nor man could be taken unless in prime condition, for a break down on part of either on the way meant delay to the entire command, or death by torture to the hapless trooper left behind. small hope was there of a march made unobserved, for stabber's band of ogalallas had been for weeks encamped within plain view. less hope was there of stabber's holding aloof now that his brethren at the big horn had declared for war. he was a recalcitrant of the first magnitude, a sub-chief who had never missed the warpath when the sioux were afield, or the consolation trip to washington between times. where stabber went his young men followed unquestioning. it was a marvel that kennedy had succeeded in getting through. it meant that the indian runners, or the indian smokes and signals, had not at once so covered the country with scouts that couriers could by no possibility slip between them. but now the signal fire was gleaming at eagle butte, and an answering blaze had flared from stabber's camp. invisible from fort frayne, they had both been seen by shrewd non-commissioned officers, sent scouting up the platte by major webb within half an hour of the coming of the alarm. "ray will push ahead at once," said webb, to his silent subordinates. "you see colonel plodder has only two troops up there, and he will need all his infantry to defend the post. i've wired to laramie and to department headquarters, and further orders will come before noon. let all the cavalry be ready. then if we push out, dade, we leave fort frayne to you. they'll hardly venture south of the platte this time." "is--mr. field going with captain ray?" presently ventured young ross, who knew ray had but one subaltern for duty at the moment, and whose soul was burning with eagerness to accompany the first troop to take the field. "no," said the major, shortly. "captain ray needs no more." "i only asked because field isn't here, and i thought--maybe--" stumbled ross, ingloriously, but the mischief was done. "mr. field is--busy," answered the major, still more shortly, then reddened to his bushy brows, for at the doorway, in riding dress, and with a face the color of parchment, stood the officer in question. it was a moment that threatened panic, but webb met the crisis with marked aplomb. "oh, field," he cried, "there's another matter. i want two good men to slip out at once and see how many of stabber's people start or have started. it may be daybreak before they can tell. sergeant schreiber would be a tiptop man for one--and little duffy. you 'tend to it." and so, mercifully, he sent the lad away until the crowd should have dispersed. only blake and ray were with him when, after awhile, mr. field returned and stood silently before them. well he knew that the post commander could hardly overlook the absence of his adjutant at such a time. "have you anything to tell me, field?" was the major's only query, his tone full of gentle yet grave reproach. "i was restless. i could not sleep, sir. i went out--purposely." "you know no horse can be taken from the stables at night except in presence of the sergeant or corporal of the guard." "i took none, sir," was the answer, and now both faces were white. "i rode one of--mr. hay's." for one moment there was no sound but the loud ticking of the big office clock. then came the question. "who rode the others, field? the sentries say they heard three." there was another moment of silence. ray stepped on tiptoe to the door as though he wanted not to hear. blake looked blankly out of the window. then the young soldier spoke. "i--cannot tell you, sir." for full ten seconds the post commander sat with grave, pallid face, looking straight into the eyes of his young staff officer. white as his senior, but with eyes as unflinching, field returned the gaze. at last the major's voice was heard again, sad and constrained. "field, captain ray starts on a forced march at once for fort beecher. i--wish you to go with him." chapter iv the sign of the bar shoe many a time has it happened in the old days of the old army that the post adjutant has begged to be allowed to go with some detachment sent after indians. rarely has it happened, however, that, without any request from the detachment commander or of his own, has the post adjutant been ordered to go. no one could say of beverly field that he had not abundantly availed himself of every opportunity for active service in the past. during his first two years with the regiment he had spent more than half the time in saddle and afield, scouting the trails of war parties or marauding bands, or watching over a peaceable tribe when on the annual hunt. twice he had been out with ray, which meant a liberal education in plainscraft and frontier duty. twice twenty times, probably, had he said he would welcome a chance to go again with captain ray, and now the chance had come, so had the spoken order, and, so far from receiving it with rejoicing, it was more than apparent that he heard it with something like dismay. but webb was not the man to either explain or defend an order, even to a junior for whom he cherished such regard. field felt instinctively that it was not because of a wish expressed in the past he was so suddenly bidden to take the field. ray's senior subaltern, as has been said, was absent, being on duty at west point, but his junior was on hand, and ray really did not need, and probably had not applied for, the services of mr. field. it was all the major's doing, and all, reasoned he, because the major deemed it best that for the time being his young adjutant should be sent away from the post. impulse prompted field to ask wherein he had offended or failed. reflection taught him, however, that he would be wise to ask no questions. it might well be that webb knew more of what had happened during the night than he, beverly field, would care to have mentioned. "you can be ready, can you not?" asked the major. "i am ready now, sir," was the brief, firm reply, but the tone told unerringly that the lad resented and in heart rebelled at the detail. "to whom shall i turn over the post fund, sir?" "i do not care to have you transfer funds or--anything, field. this is but a temporary affair, one that will take you away perhaps a fortnight." "i prefer that it should be permanent, sir," was the young officer's sudden interruption, and, though his eyes were blazing, he spoke with effort, his face still white with mingled sense of indignity and indignation. "gently, mr. field," said webb, with unruffled calm, even while uplifting a hand in quiet warning. "we will consider that, if need be, on your return. meantime, if you desire, i will receipt to you for the post fund or any other public money." "that is the trouble, sir. the best i can do is give you an order for it. post treasurers, as a rule, have not had to turn over their funds at four o'clock in the morning," which statement was true enough, however injudicious it might be to bruit it. mild-mannered commanding officers sometimes amaze their subordinates by most unlooked for and unwelcome eruptiveness of speech when they feel that an unwarrantable liberty has been taken. webb did not take fire. he turned icy. "the quartermaster's safe can be opened at any moment, mr. field," said he, the blue gray eyes glittering, dangerously. "i presume your funds are there." "it was because the quartermaster would _not_ open it at any moment that i took them out and placed them elsewhere," hotly answered field, and not until then did webb remember that there had been quite a fiery talk, followed by hyperborean estrangement, between his two staff officers, and now, as the only government safe at the post was in the office of the quartermaster, and the only other one was bill hay's big "phoenix" at the store, it dawned upon the major that it was there mr. field had stowed his packages of currency--a violation of orders pure and simple--and that was why he could not produce the money on the spot. webb reflected. if he let ray start at dawn and held field back until the trader was astir, it might be eight o'clock before the youngster could set forth. by that time ray would be perhaps a dozen miles to the northward, and with keen-eyed indian scouts noting the march of the troop and keeping vigilant watch for possible stragglers, it might be sending the lad to certain death, for plodder had said in so many words the sioux about him had declared for war, had butchered three ranchmen on the dry fork, had fired on and driven in his herd guards and wood choppers, and, what started with lane wolf's big band, would spread to stabber's little one in less than no time, and what spread to stabber's would soon reach a host of the sioux. moreover, there was another reason. it would give field opportunity for further conference with--inmates of the trader's household, and the major had his own grave reasons for seeking to prevent that. "your written order will be sufficient, mr. field," said he. "send me memorandum of the amounts and i will receipt at once, so that you can go without further thought of them. and now," with a glance at the clock, "you have hardly half an hour in which to get ready." raising his hand in mechanical salute, field faced about; cast one look at blake, standing uncomfortably at the window, and then strode angering away to his quarters, smarting under a sense of unmerited rebuke yet realizing that, as matters looked, no one was more to blame than himself. just as the first faint flush of coming day was mantling the pallid eastern sky, and while the stars still sparkled aloft and the big, bright moon was sinking to the snow-tipped peaks far away to the occident, in shadowy column a troop of fifty horse filed slowly from the sorrels' big corral and headed straight for the platte. swift and unfordable in front of frayne in the earlier summer, the river now went murmuring sleepily over its stony bed, and ray led boldly down the bank and plunged girth deep into the foaming waters. five minutes more and every man had lined up safely on the northward bank. in low tone the order was given, starting as ray ever did, in solid column of fours. in dead silence the little command moved slowly away, followed by the eyes of half the garrison on the bluff. many of these were women and children, who gazed through a mist of tears. ray turned in saddle as the last of his men went by; looked long at the dim light in the upper window of his home, where, clasping her children to her heart, his devoted wife knelt watching them, her fond lips moving in ceaseless prayer. dimly she could see the tried leader, her soldier husband, sitting in saddle at the bank. bravely she answered the flutter of his handkerchief in farewell. then all was swallowed up in the shadows of the distant prairie, and from the nursery adjoining her room there rose a querulous wail that told that her baby daughter was waking, indifferent to the need that sent the soldier father to the aid of distant comrades, threatened by a merciless foe, and conscious only of her infantile demands and expectations. not yet ten years wed, that brave, devoted wife and mother had known but two summers that had not torn her husband from her side on just such quest and duty, for these were the days of the building up of the west, resisted to the bitter end by the red wards of the nation. the sun was just peering over the rough, jagged outline of the eastward buttes, when a quick yet muffled step was heard on the major's veranda and a picturesque figure stood waiting at the door. scout, of course, a stranger would have said at a glance, for from head to foot the man was clad in beaded buckskin, without sign of soldier garb of any kind. soldier, too, would have been the expert testimony the instant the door opened and the commanding officer appeared. erect as a norway pine the strange figure stood to attention, heels and knees together, shoulders squared, head and eyes straight to the front, the left hand, fingers extended, after the precise teachings of the ante-bellum days, the right hand raised and held at the salute. strange figure indeed, yet soldierly to the last degree, despite the oddity of the entire make-up. the fur-trimmed cap of embroidered buckskin sat jauntily on black and glossy curls that hung about the brawny neck and shoulders. the buckskin coat, heavily fringed as to the short cape and the shorter skirt, was thickly covered with indian embroidery of bead and porcupine quill; so, too, were the fringed trousers and leggings; so, too, the moccasins, soled with thick, yet pliant hide. keen black eyes shone from beneath heavy black brows, just sprinkled, as were the thick moustache and imperial, with gray. the lean jowls were closely shaved. the nose was straight and fine, the chin square and resolute. the face and hands were tanned by sun and wind well nigh as dark as many a sioux, but in that strange garb there stood revealed one of the famous sergeants of a famous regiment, the veteran of a quarter century of service with the standard, wounded time and again, bearing the scars of stuart's sabre and of southern lead, of indian arrow and bullet both; proud possessor of the medal of honor that many a senior sought in vain; proud as the lucifer from whom he took his christian name, brave, cool, resolute and ever reliable--schreiber, first sergeant of old "k" troop for many a year, faced his post commander with brief and characteristic report:-- "sir, chief stabber, with over thirty warriors, left camp about three o'clock, heading for eagle butte." "well done, sergeant! i knew i could count on you," answered webb, in hearty commendation. "now, one thing more. go to 'f' troop's quarters and see how kennedy is faring. he came in with despatches from fort beecher, and later drank more, i fancy, than was good for him, for which i assume all responsibility. keep him out of mischief this morning." "i will, sir," said the sergeant, and saluting turned away while webb went back to set a dismantled pantry in partial order, against the appearance of his long-suffering house-keeper, whose comments he dreaded as he did those of no inspector general in the army. for fifteen years, and whithersoever webb was ordered, his bachelor _ménage_ had been presided over by mistress margaret mcgann, wife of a former trooper, who had served as webb's "striker" for so many a year in the earlier days that, when discharged for disability, due to wounds, rheumatism and advancing years, and pensioned, as only uncle sam rewards his veterans, mcgann had begged the major to retain him and his buxom better half at their respective duties, and webb had meekly, weakly yielded, to the end that in the fulness of time dame margaret had achieved an ascendancy over the distinguished cavalry officer little short of that she had exercised over honest michael since the very day she consented to become mistress mcgann. a sound sleeper was she, however, and not until morning police call was she wont to leave her bed. then, her brief toilet completed, she would descend to the kitchen and set the major's coffee on the fire, started by her dutiful spouse an hour earlier. then she proceeded to lay the table, and put the rooms in order against the major's coming, and woe betide him if cigar stubs littered the bachelor sittingroom or unrinsed glasses and half empty decanters told of even moderate symposium over night. returning that eventful morning from his office at first call for reveillé, after seeing the last of ray's gallant troop as it moved away across the dim vista of the northward prairie, webb had been concerned to find his decanter of monongahela half empty on the pantry table and the _débris_ of a hurried feast on every side. kennedy, who had begun in moderation, must have felt the need of further creature comfort after his bout with the stalwart sioux, and had availed himself to the limit of his capacity of the major's invitation. webb's first thought was to partially remove the traces of that single-handed spree; then, refilling the decanter from the big five-gallon demijohn, kept under lock and key in the cupboard--for michael, too, had at long intervals weaknesses of his own--he was thinking how best to protect kennedy from the consequences of his, webb's, rash invitation when schreiber's knock was heard. ten minutes more and the sergeant was back again. "sir, i have to report that trooper kennedy has not been seen about the quarters," said he. "then try the stables, sergeant," answered the veteran campaigner, and thither would schreiber next have gone, even had he not been sent. and, sure enough, there was kennedy, with rueful face and a maudlin romaunt about a moonlit meeting with a swarm of painted sioux, over which the stable guard were making merry and stirring the trooper's soul to wrath ungovernable. "i can prove ut," he howled, to the accompaniment of clinching fists and bellicose lunges at the laughing tormentors nearest him. "i can whip the hide off'n the scut that says i didn't. ask lootn't field, bejabers! he saw it. ask--oh, mother of god! what's this i'm sayin'?"--and there, with stern, rebuking gaze, stood the man they knew and feared, every soul of them, as they did no commissioned soldier in the ----th, sergeant schreiber, the redoubtable, and schreiber had heard the insane and damaging boast. "come with me, kennedy," was all he said, and kennedy snatched his battered felt headgear down over his eyes and tacked woefully after his swift-striding master, without ever another word. but it was to his own room schreiber took the unhappy irishman, not to the quarters of company "f." he had heard words that, coupled with others that fell through the darkness on his keenly listening ears some two hours earlier, had given him cause for painful thought. "lie down here, kennedy. pull off your boots," said he, "and if you open your fool head to any living soul until i give you leave, py gott--i'll gill you!" it was schreiber's way, like marryatt's famous boatswain, to begin his admonitions in exact english, and then, as wrath overcame him, to lapse into dialect. it was but a few minutes after seven when major webb, having previously despatched a messenger to the post trader's to say he had need to see mr. hay as soon as possible, mounted his horse and, followed by sergeant schreiber and an orderly, rode quietly past the guard-house, touching his hat to the shouted "turn out the guard--commanding officer" of the sentry on number one. mr. hay was dressing hurriedly, said the servant, so webb bade schreiber and the orderly ride slowly down to the flats and await him at the forks of the road. it was but five minutes before hay appeared, pulling on his coat as he shot from the door, but even before he came the major had been carefully, cautiously scanning the blinds of the second story, even while feigning deep interest in the doings of a little squad of garrison prisoners--the inevitable inmates of the guard-house in the days before we had our safeguard in shape of the soldier's club--the post exchange--and now again in the days that follow its ill-judged extinction. the paymaster had been at frayne but five days earlier. the prison room was full of aching heads, and hay's coffers' of hard-earned, ill-spent dollars. webb sighed at sight of the crowded ranks of this whimsically named "company q," but in no wise relaxed his vigilance, for the slats of the blind of the corner window had partially opened. he had had a glimpse of feminine fingers, and purposely he called hay well out into the road, then bent down over him: "all your horses in and all right, this morning, hay?" "none have been out," said hay, stoutly, "unless they've gone within the hour. i never let them have the keys, you know, over night. pete brought them to me at eight last evening and got 'em at six this morning, the usual time." "where does he get them--without waking you?" asked webb. "they hang behind the door in my sleeping room. pete gets them when he takes my boots to black at six o'clock." "come over to the stables," said the commanding officer, and, wondering, hay followed. they found the two hostlers busily at work grooming. in his box stall, bright as a button, was "harney," hay's famous runner, his coat smooth as satin. hay went rapidly from stall to stall. of the six saddlers owned by him not one gave the faintest sign of having been used over night, but webb, riding through the gangway, noted that "crapaud," the french halfbreed grooming in the third stall, never lifted his head. whatever evidence of night riding that might earlier have existed had been deftly groomed away. the trader had seen suspicion in the soldier's eye, and so stood forth, triumphant:-- "no, major webb," said he, in loud, confident, oracular tone, "no horse of mine ever gets out without my knowing it, and never at night unless you or i so order it." "no?" queried the major, placidly. "then how do you account for--this?" among the fresh hoof prints in the yielding sand, with which the police party had been filling the ruts of the outer roadway, was one never made by government horse or mule. in half a dozen places within a dozen rods, plain as a pikestaff, was the print of a bar shoe, worn on the off fore foot of just one quadruped at the post--hay's swift running "general harney." chapter v a grave discovery only an hour was the major away from his post. he came back in time for guard mounting and the reports of the officers-of-the-day. he had reason to be on the parade at the "assembly of the details," not so much to watch the work of the post adjutant _pro tempore_, as the effect of the sudden and unlooked for change on certain of the customary spectators. he had swiftly ridden to the camp of the recreant stabber and purposely demanded speech with that influential chieftain. there had been the usual attempt on part of the old men left in charge to hoodwink and to temporize, but when sharply told that stabber, with his warriors, had been seen riding away toward eagle butte at three in the morning, the sages calmly confessed judgment, but declared they had no other purpose than a hunt for a drove of elk reported seen about the famous indian race course in the lower hills of the big horn. circling the camp, however, webb had quickly counted the pony tracks across the still dewy bunchgrass of the bench, and found schreiber's estimate substantially correct. then, stopping at the lodge of stabbers's uncle, old "spotted horse," where that superannuated but still sagacious chief was squatted on his blanket and ostentatiously puffing a long indian pipe, webb demanded to know what young men remained in the village. over a hundred strong, old men, squaws and children, they thronged about him, silent, big-eyed and attentive, schreiber interpreting as best he could, resorting to the well-known sign language when the crafty sioux professed ignorance of the meaning of his words:-- "no young men. all gone," was the positive declaration of the venerable head of the bailiwick, when compelled at last to answer. but schreiber had studied the pony herd and knew better. moreover, not more than six of their ponies had been led along with the war party that set forth in the early hours of the moonlit morning. others, both men and mounts, unavoidably left behind, would surely be sent forward at the first possible opportunity, and, much as webb might wish to turn back to capture the party, well as he might know that other bands were in revolt and stabber gone to help them, he was powerless under his orders to interfere until by some openly hostile act these laggards of the little band invited his reprisal. the rule of the road, as prescribed by the civil authorities, to which the soldier had sworn obedience, being practically, "don't defend until you are hit. don't shoot until you are shot." webb came cantering back assured that these frowsy, malodorous lodges concealed, perhaps, half a score of fighting men who were a menace to the neighborhood and who could be counted on to make it more than interesting for any couriers that might have to be sent between the fort and the forces at the front. calling schreiber to his side, as, with long easy stride their trained mounts went loping swiftly homeward, he gave instructions the veteran heard with kindling eyes. then, parting from him at the corrals, the commander rode on and dismounted at his quarters just as the trumpeters were forming on the broad, grassy level of the parade. even without a band young field had managed to make his guard mount a pretty and attractive ceremony. frayne was a big post and needed a daily guard of twenty-four men, with the usual quota of non-commissioned officers. cowboys, herders, miners, prospectors, rustlers (those pirates of the plains) and occasional bands of indians, sioux or arapahoe, were forever hovering about its borders in search of supplies, solid or fluid, and rarely averse to the conversion of public property to personal use. like many a good citizen of well-ordered municipalities within the confines of civilization, they held that what belonged to the government belonged to them, and the fact that some officer would have to pay for whatsoever they stole, from a horse to a hammer, cut no figure in their deliberations. frayne had long been a favorite place for fitting out depleted stock, animal, vegetable or mineral, and there had been times when webb found as many as forty men almost too small a guard, and so gave it to be understood that sentries whose carbines were unlawfully discharged at night, without the formality of preliminary challenge or other intimation of business intentions, would be held blameless, provided they had something to show for their shot. a remarkable feature of the winter's depredation had been that hay's corral was never molested, although unguarded by the garrison and quite as much exposed as the most remote of the government shops, shanties or stables. field mounted his guard, except in cold or stormy weather, in full uniform, and the daily "march past" in review brought many of the garrison ladies, most of the children and all of the dogs to the scene. some of the households breakfasted just before,--some just after--guard mounting, but, as a rule, no one sat at table when almost everybody else was gathered along the westward edge of the broad parade. it was there the plans for the social day were discussed and determined. rides, drives, hunts or picnics away from the post; dances, dinners, croquet or tennis within the garrison limits. it was the hour when all the girls were out, looking fair and fresh as daisies, and while the mothers sedately gossiped along the row of broad verandas, their daughters blithely chatted in little groups, or, as might often be, paced slowly with downcast eyes and mantling cheeks at the side of some young gallant who had no thought for other duty than that of the thrilling moment. and here they were, well nigh a dozen of them, of all ages from twelve to twenty, as the major sent his mount to the stables and made quick survey of the scene, and a moment's glance was sufficient to show that among them all there was stir and excitement beyond that which would be caused by so common an incident as the sending forth of a troop on scout. it was the fact that field had gone and that young ross was acting in his place that set them all to speculating on the cause. one of their number, promenading with lieutenant hartley, glanced up at major webb as they passed him by, with such a world of mingled question and reproach in her soft blue eyes that his heart for the moment smote him. he had never seen esther dade looking so languid or so wan, yet more _of_ her and _for_ her had he been thinking during the week gone by than of any other girl in or out of the army. to-day, however, there was another he eagerly sought to see, and, with something akin to keen disappointment, noted that she was not among the strollers along the board walk or the chatting groups about the steps and gateways. not once during her brief visit had she as yet missed guard mounting. now her absence was significant. in the very eyes of the little party hastening toward him--three young girls and a brace of subalterns--he read question and cross-question, and was thankful to see hay, the trader, trudging up the walk to join him. so seldom did the old frontiersman enter the quadrangle that people remarked upon his coming;--remarked still more when webb hurried down to meet him. "you're right about the horses, major," said hay, mopping a moist and troubled face with a big bandana. "my racer and my best single footer, dan, were out last night. dan's saddle cloth was wet and so was harney's. some one outside has got false keys,--i'll put new padlocks on at once,--but for the life of me i can't think who would play me such a trick. to _steal_ the horses,--run 'em off to rawlins or up the sweetwater or off to the hills--i could understand that! but to borrow them for an hour or two,--why, it beats me hollow!" and hay in deep perplexity leaned against the low fence and almost imploringly gazed into the major's face. they all leaned on webb. "any idea who they were?" asked the commander. "not the skin of a shadow, 'cept that one man rode shorter stirrups'n i do. they forgot to set 'em back. they had my california saddle on dan and that light whitman of mine on harney." "sure it was two men?" queried webb, looking straight into the trader's eyes. "what else could it be?" demanded hay, in no little excitement. "well, i thought possibly miss flower might have been moved to take a moonlight ride. no reason why she shouldn't, you know, and not wishing to disturb you----" "then she would have used her own side-saddle. what's she doing with a man's? besides, she'd have told me!" "oh! you've seen her then this morning? i thought perhaps she wasn't up," hazarded webb. "up? why, hang it, she was up at daybreak--up hours ago, my wife says. haven't you seen her? she's over here somewhere?" no, webb had not seen her, and together the two started in search, first to the flagstaff, and there at the point of bluff beyond the rays',--there she stood, gazing up the platte toward the indian village through a pair of signal glasses that weighed heavily in her daintily gloved hands. captain tracy, a bachelor assistant surgeon, stood faithfully by her side, listening to her lively chatter, with ears that absorbed and eyes that worshipped. "come away," said webb. "i have an order on you for field's currency in your safe. when are you going to try to get your cash to bank?" and webb keenly eyed his man as he asked the question. "to-morrow or next day sure,--even if i have to go part way with the stage myself. when do you want this money?" said hay, tapping the envelope webb had given him. "well, now, if agreeable to you. i prefer to keep such funds at the quartermaster's. oh--good morning, mrs. ray!" he cheerily called, lifting his cap, at sight of a young matron at an upper window. "can you see them still?" he added, for the elder of the two boys was peering through a long telescope, perched on its brass tripod upon a little shelf projecting from the sill. many a time had the "rays' spyglass" been the last to discern some departing troop as it crossed the low divide ten miles away to the north. many a time had the first announcement of "courier coming" reached headquarters through master sandy, the first born of their olive branches. there were unshed tears in the gentle voice that answered. there was wordless anxiety in the sweet, pallid face that smiled so bravely through its sorrow. "the troop passed out of sight quarter of an hour ago, major," said mrs. ray. "but sandy could see the flankers on their left until within the last five minutes." "_way_ out on their left, major!" interposed that young gentleman, big with importance. "if old stabber tries any of his tricks with _that_ troop he'll--he'll get his belly full!" and master sandy plainly intimated both in tone and manner, not to mention the vernacular of the soldier, that stabber might take liberties with any other troop or company at the post, but would best beware of daddy's. and yet, not three months agone he had stoutly taken up the cudgels for the frayne garrison, as a whole, against the field, the wordy battle with the son and heir of the colonel commanding at laramie culminating in a combat only terminated by the joint efforts of the stable sergeant and sentry, for both youngsters were game as their sires. what sandy ray was now praying to see was an attack by stabber's band upon the isolated troop, but stabber, it may be said, knew a trick worth ten of that. there was no sense in pitching into the sorrel troop on even terms when by waiting another day, perhaps, and the answer of lame wolf to the appeal of his speedy messenger, he might outnumber and overwhelm them with five to one. "we should be hearing from omaha and laramie by ten o'clock, mrs. ray," said the major, reassuringly, "and i will send you word at once. and, of course, corporal ray," he continued, and now with martial formality addressing the lad at the telescope, "i can rely upon you to report at once in case you see anything suspicious toward the big horn." "yes, sir," answered the boy, straightening up to attention. then, scrupulously exchanging salutes, the old soldier and the young parted company, and the major returned to receive the reports of the old and new officers of the day. these gentlemen were still with him, captain chew, of the infantry, and the senior first lieutenant for duty with the ----th, when hay came hurrying up the board walk from the direction of the store. for reasons of his own, webb had sent his orderly to the guard-house to say to the officers in question that he would await them at his quarters instead of the little building known as the adjutant's office, in which were the offices of the commander, the record room in which were placed the desks of the sergeant-major and his three clerks, and the sleeping rooms of the special duty soldiers. it had happened more than once in the past that garrison stories of matters not supposed to be known outside the office had been traced back to that desk room, and now webb's questions of his old officer of the day, and his instructions to the new were not things he cared to have bruited about the post. he was listening intently to the captain's report of the sentries' observations during the night gone by when hay reached the gate and stopped, not wishing to intrude at such a moment. "come in, mr. hay," said the commander, cordially. "this all will interest you," and, thus bidden, the trader joined the soldiers three on the veranda, and some of the young people of the garrison, setting up their croquet arches on the parade, looked curiously toward the group, and wondered what should keep the old officer-of-the-day so long. sauntering down the walk, smiling radiantly upon the occupants of the various verandas that she passed, then beaming between times into the face of her smitten escort, her black eyes and white teeth flashing in the rare sunshine, nanette flower was gradually nearing the major's quarters. she was barely twenty yards away when, in obedience to some word of the major, mr. hay held forth two white packages that, even at the distance, could be recognized, so far as the outer covering was concerned, as official envelopes. she was too far away, perhaps, to hear what was said. "it seems," began webb, to his officers, as he mechanically opened the first packet, "that field took fire at wilkins's growls about the bother of keeping his funds, so the youngster stowed his money with hay. he insisted on turning over everything before he left, so i receipted to him. let's see," he continued, glancing at the memorandum in his hand. "three hundred and seventy-two dollars and eighty-five cents post fund, and four hundred belonging to various enlisted men. i may as well count it in your presence." by this time the long, lean fingers had ripped open the package marked four hundred, and were extracting the contents,--a sheet of official paper with figures and memoranda, and then a flat package, apparently, of currency. topmost was a five dollar treasury note; bottom-most another of the same denomination. between them, deftly cut, trimmed and sized, were blank slips of paper to the number of perhaps thirty and the value of not one cent. with paling faces the officers watched the trembling fingers slash open the second, its flap, as was that of the first envelope, securely gummed,--not sealed. a nickel or two and a few dimes slid out before the packet came. it was of like consistency with the first--and of about the same value. webb lifted up his eyes and looked straight into the amazed,--almost livid, face of the trader. "my god! major webb," cried hay, aghast and bewildered. "don't look at me like that! no man on earth has ever accused me of a crime. this means that not only my stable but my safe has been robbed,--and there is a traitor within my gates." dr. tracy, absorbed in contemplation of miss flower's radiant face, and in the effort to make his own words eloquent, had no ears for those of others. he never heeded the trader's excited outburst. he only saw her suddenly flinch, suddenly pale, then sway. his ready arm was round her in a twinkling. in a twinkling she twisted free from the undesired clasp. "just--my foot turned!--a pebble!" she gasped. but when, all assiduity, tracy would have seated her on the horseblock and examined the delicate ankle, she refused straightway, and with almost savage emphasis, and with rigid lips from which all loveliness had fled, bade him lead on home, where, despite protest and appeal, personal and professional, she dismissed him curtly. chapter vi first sight of the foe ray's gallant half hundred, as has been said, took the route for the north at break of day. before them spread the open prairie, apparently level and unbroken for full five miles to the front and either flank, the distant slopes and ridges bounding the level expanse growing more distinct with every moment, and presently lighting up in exulting radiance in response to the rosy blushes of the eastward sky. scorning the dusty stage road, the troop commander pointed to a distant height just visible against the northward horizon, bade the leading guide march straight on that; then gave the order "right by twos," that he might the more readily note the gait and condition of every horse and the bearing and equipment of his rider. there was still time to weed out weaklings of either class should any such there be. riding slowly along the left flank, one after another, he carefully scanned every man and mount in his little detachment, then, at quicker pace, passed around to the eastward side of the column, and as critically, carefully studied them from that point of view. a light of quiet satisfaction shone in his fine, dark eyes as he finished, for, next to his wife and children, that troop was ray's supreme delight. the preliminary look-over by lantern light had been all sufficient. this later inspection on the move revealed not a steed amiss, not an item of equipment either misplaced or lacking. "steady as planets," barring the irrepressible tendency of some young, high-spirited horse to dance a bit until quieted by the monotony of the succeeding miles, at quick, light-hoofed walk, the sorrels tripped easily along in precise, yet companionable couples. "one yard from head to croup," said the drill book of the day, and, but for that, the riders might have dropped their reins upon the pommel as practically unnecessary. but, for the first hour or so, at least, the tendency toward the rear of column was ever to crowd upon the file leaders, a proceeding resented, not infrequently, in less disciplined commands than ray's, by well-delivered kicks, or at least such signs of equine disapprobation as switching tail or set-back ears. but ray's troop horses moved like so many machines, so constant and systematic had been their drill; and ray's men rode in the perfection of uniform, so far as armament and equipment were concerned. each greatcoat, precisely rolled, was strapped with its encircling poncho at the pommel. each blanket, as snugly packed, with the sidelines festooned upon the top, was strapped at the cantle. lariat and picket pin, coiled and secured, hung from the near side of the pommel. the canteen, suspended from its snap hook, hung at the off side. saddle-bags, with extra horse shoes, nails, socks, underwear, brushes and comb, extra packages of carbine and revolver cartridges and minor impedimenta, equally distributed as to weight, swung from the cantle and underneath the blanket roll. from the broad, black leather carbine sling, over each trooper's left shoulder, the hard-shooting brown barrelled little springfield hung suspended, its muzzle thrust, as was the fashion of the day, into the crude socket imposed so long upon our frontier fighters by officials who had never seen the west, save, as did a certain writer of renown, from a car window, thereby limiting their horizon. ray despised that socket as he did the shoemaker bit, but believed, with president grant, that the best means to end obnoxious laws was their rigorous enforcement. each man's revolver, a trusty brown colt, hung in its holster at the right hip. each man was girt with ammunition belt of webbing, the device of an old-time yankee cavalryman that has been copied round the world, the dull-hued copper cartridges bristling from every loop. each man wore, as was prescribed, the heavy, cumbrous cavalry boot of the day and generation, but had stowed in his saddle-bags light moccasins and leggings with which to replace them when, farther afield, their clear-headed commander should give the word. each man, too, wore the gauntlets of indian-tanned buckskin, a special pattern that ray had been permitted to use experimentally. each man was clad in dark blue flannel shirt and blouse, the latter soon probably to be stored with the big, weighty boots in truscott's saddle room at beecher, with, probably too, many of the light blue riding breeches, saddle-pieced with canvas--the uniform at the start destined, in the case of veteran troopers, at least, to be shed in favor of brown duck hunting trousers, or even, among certain extremists, fringed, beaded and embroidered buckskin, than which the present chronicler knows no more uncomfortable garb when soaked by pelting rains or immersion in some icy mountain stream. even the brown campaign hats, uniformly "creased," as the fifty left the ford, would soon be knocked out of all semblance to the prescribed shape, and made at once comfortable and serviceable. add to these items the well-filled haversack and battered tin quart cup, (for on a forced march of two or three days captain ray would have no pack mules,) and the personal equipment of his men was complete. as for the mounts, each sorrel tripped easily along under the sextuple folds of the saddle blanket, and the black-skinned mcclellan saddle tree, with its broad horsehair cincha and hooded wooden stirrups, minus the useless skirts and sweat leathers. neither breast strap, crupper nor martingale hampered the free movements of the sturdy, stocky little weight carriers. the black, single-reined curb bridle, fastened as to the throat latch by a light buckle, was slipped on over the headstall of the so-called watering bridle, whose toggled and detachable snaffle bit was generally "toted" from start to finish of a field scout in the saddle bags,--a twist of the flexible lariat, indian fashion, between the complaisant jaws of his pet, being the troop's ready substitute. add to this that, full, free and unmutilated, in glossy waves the beautiful manes and tails tossed in the upland breeze (for the heresies of anglomania never took root in the american cavalry) and you have ray's famous troop as it looked, fresh started from old fort frayne this glorious autumn morning of -, and with a nod of approbation, and "it couldn't be better, sergeant," to his devoted right hand man, the veteran senior non-commissioned officer of the troop, ray rang out the command "at ease," and placed himself beside the silent young lieutenant at the head of column. [illustration: ray's troop.] as has been said, ray's senior subaltern was on detached service. his junior, mr. clayton, had joined but the year before, and this threw mr. field in command of the leading platoon and to the side of the leading guide. now, as the senior officer took the head of column and mr. clayton fell back to the rear, the silence of the first mile of march was broken and, though sitting erect in saddle and forbidden to lounge or "slouch," the troop began its morning interchange of chaff and comment. every mother's son of them rejoiced to be once more afield with a chance of stirring work ahead. "it's time to throw out our advance, field," said ray, in kindly, cordial tone, as he scanned the low divide still some miles ahead and reined in beside the stern-faced young soldier. "send sergeant scott forward with three men and the same number on each flank--corporals in charge." he had more than liked webb's adjutant. he had been his stanchest friend and supporter among the troop and company commanders, and was eager to befriend him now. he had expressed no wish to have him sent on the hurried move, but well he knew the post commander's reasons and approved his course. still, now that field was being removed, for the time at least, from the possibility of an entangling alliance that might prove disastrous, in every way in his power ray meant to show the mortified, indeed sorely angered, officer that his personal regard for him had suffered no change whatever. if he could succeed in winning field's confidence it might well be that he could bring him to see that there were good and sufficient grounds for the post commander's action--that for field's own good, in fact, it was a most desirable move. the soul of loyalty and square dealing himself, ray had never for a moment dreamed that anything other than a foolish escapade had occurred--a ride by moonlight, perhaps, demanded of her devotee by a thoughtless, thoroughbred coquette, whose influence over the young fellow was beginning to mar his usefulness, if not indeed his future prospects. just what to think of nanette flower ray really did not know. marion, his beloved better half, was his unquestioned authority in all such matters, and it was an uncommon tenet of that young matron never to condemn until she had cause. instinctively she shrank from what she had seen of miss flower, even though her woman's eye rejoiced in the elegance of miss flower's abundant toilets; and, conscious of her intuitive aversion, she would utter no word that might later prove unjust. oddly enough, that instinctive aversion was shared by her closest friend and neighbor, mrs. blake; but, as yet, the extent of their condemnation had found vent only in the half whimsical, half petulant expression on part of the younger lady--blake's beautiful wife, "i wish her name weren't--so near like mine," for "nan" had been her pet name almost from babyhood. vaguely conscious were they both, these lords of creation, messrs. blake and ray, that the ladies of their love did not approve of miss flower, but ray had ridden forth without ever asking or knowing why, and so, unknowing, was ill prepared to grapple with the problem set before him. it is easier to stem a torrent with a shingle than convince a lover that his idol is a shrew. without a word of reply, field reined out of column, glanced along the double file of his platoon, nodded a signal "fall out" to sergeant scott, and the men nearest him at the front, merely said "advance guard," and then proceeded to choose his corporals and men for flankers. no need to tell scott what to do! he had been leading scouts in arizona long ere field had even dreamed of west point. in five minutes, riding at easy lope, carbines advanced, three little parties of four troopers each were spreading far out to the front and flank, guarding the little column against the possibility of sudden assault from hidden foe. here upon the level prairie one would think such precaution needless, but every acre of the surface was seamed and gullied by twisting little water courses, dry as a chip at the moment, and some of them so deep as to afford cover even for the biggest pony of the wild warriors of the plains. then, to the front, the barrier ridges, streaked with deep winding ravines, were now billowing against the northward sky, and once among those tangled land waves no chances could be taken now that it was known that the sioux had declared for war, and that stabber's band was out to join their red brethren in the oft recurring outbreak. until their lands were criss-crossed by the railways and their mountain haunts re-echoed to the scream of the iron horse, next to nothing would start an indian war: it took so long to reach the scene with troops in sufficient numbers to command their respect. and at this moment the situation was grave in the extreme. there had been bad blood and frequent collision between the cattlemen, herders, "hustlers,"--especially hustlers,--and the hunting parties of the sioux and the northern cheyenne, who clung to the big horn range and the superb surrounding country with almost passionate love and with jealous tenacity. there had been aggression on both sides, then bloodshed, then attempts on part of frontier sheriffs to arrest accused or suspected red men, and equally determined and banded effort to prevent arrest of accused and identified whites. by due process of law, as administered in the days whereof we write, the indian was pretty sure to get the worst of every difference, and therefore, preferred, not unnaturally, his own time-honored methods of settlement. in accordance therewith, had they scalped the sheriff's posse that had shot two of their young braves who had availed themselves of a purposely given chance to escape, and then in their undiscriminating zeal, the sioux had opened fire from ambush on plodder's hunting parties and the choppers at the wood camp, who defended themselves as best they could, to the end that more men, red and white, were killed. the indians rallied in force and closed in about fort beecher, driving the survivors to shelter within its guarded lines, and then, when plodder needed every man of his force to keep the foe at respectful distance, so that his bullets could not reach the quarters occupied by the women and children at the post, there reached him by night a runner from the stage station far over to the southeast, on a dry fork of the powder, saying that the north and south bound stages had taken refuge there, with only ten men, all told, to stand off some fifty warriors, and therefore imploring assistance. not daring to send a troop, plodder called for volunteers to bear despatches to major webb, at frayne, and pat kennedy, with half a dozen brave lads, had promptly stepped forward. kennedy had managed to slip through the encircling sioux by night, and to reach fort frayne after a daring and almost desperate ride. then ray was ordered forth, first to raise the siege at the stage station, then, either to hold that important relay ranch or go on to reinforce plodder as his judgment and the situation might dictate. he knew enough of the stout adobe walls of the corral on the dry fork, and of the grit of the few defenders, to feel reasonably sure that, with ammunition, provisions and water in plenty, they could easily hold out a week if need be against the sioux, so long as they fought on the defensive and the indians were not strongly reinforced. he reasoned that stabber and his people were probably gone to strengthen the attack, and that having an hour's start at least, and riding faster, they would get there somewhat ahead of him. but one of his own old sergeants, a veteran of twenty years in the cavalry, was now stationmaster on the dry fork, and all the sioux from the platte to paradise couldn't stampede old jim kelly. many a forced march had ray made in the past, and well he knew that the surest way to bring his horses into action, strong and sound at the finish, was to move "slow and steady" at the start, to move at the walk until the horses were calm and quiet, was his rule. then on this bright september day would come the alternating trot and lope, with brief halts to reset saddles; then, later still, the call upon his willing men and mounts for sustained effort, and by sunset he and they could count on riding in, triumphant, to the rescue, even though stabber himself should seek to bar the way. and that stabber meant to watch the road, if not to block it, became evident before the head of column began the gradual ascent of moccasin ridge, from whose sharp crest the little band could take their last look, for the time, at least, at the distant walls of frayne. somewhere toward seven-thirty corporal connors' foremost man, far out on the left flank, riding suddenly over a low divide, caught sight of a bonneted warrior bending flat over his excited pony and lashing that nimble, fleet-footed creature to mad gallop in the effort to reach the cover of the projecting point of bluff across the shallow ravine that cut in toward the foothills. stone, the trooper, lifted his campaign hat on high once, and then lowered his arm to the horizontal, hat in hand, pointing in the direction the darting savage was seen, and thus, without a syllable having been spoken at the front, word was passed in to ray that one indian had been sighted far out to the northwest. "they may try to hold us among the breaks of the mini pusa," said he, to his still unreconciled second in command. field had been civil, respectful, but utterly uncommunicative in his replies to the captain's repeated cordialities. any attempt to even remotely refer to the causes that led to his being ordered out with the detachment had been met with chilling silence. now, however, the foe had been seen and could be counted on to resist if his rallied force much exceeded that of the troop, or to annoy it by long-range fire if too weak to risk other encounter. the command halted one moment at the crest to take one long, lingering look at the now far-distant post beyond the platte; then, swinging again into saddle, moved briskly down into the long, wide hollow between them and the next divide, well nigh three miles across, and as they reached the low ground and traversed its little draining gully, a muttered exclamation "look there!" from the lips of the first sergeant, called their attention again to the far left front. stone, the trooper who had reported the first indian, had turned his horse over to the second man, as had the corporal on that flank, and together they were crouching up along the eastward face of a billowing hillock, while, straight to the front sergeant scott, obedient to a signal from his left hand man, was speeding diagonally along the rise to the north, for all three advance troopers had halted and two were cautiously dismounting. ray watched one moment, with kindling eyes, then turned to his young chief of platoons: "take your men, field, and be ready to support. there's something behind that second ridge!" chapter vii blood will tell as webb had predicted, even before nine o'clock, came prompt, spirited response from laramie, where the colonel had ordered the four troops to prepare for instant march, and had bidden the infantry to be ready for any duty the general might order. from omaha,--department headquarters,--almost on the heels of the laramie wire came cheery word from their gallant chief: "coming to join you noon train to-day. cheyenne : to-morrow. your action in sending ray's troop approved. hold others in readiness to move at a moment's notice. wire further news north platte, sidney or cheyenne to meet me." so the note of preparation was joyous throughout the barracks on the eastward side and mournful among the married quarters elsewhere. but even through the blinding tears with which so many loving women wrought, packing the field and mess kits of soldier husbands whose duties kept them with their men at barracks or stables, there were some, at least, who were quick to see that matters of unusual moment called certain of the major's stanchest henchmen to the office, and that grave and earnest consultation was being held, from which men came with sombre faces and close-sealed lips. first to note these indications was the indomitable helpmate of old wilkins, the post quartermaster. she had no dread on his account, for rheumatism and routine duties, as the official in charge of uncle sam's huge stack of stores and supplies, exempted her liege from duty in the field; and, even while lending a helping hand where some young wife and mother seemed dazed and broken by the sudden call to arms, she kept eyes and ears alert as ever, and was speedily confiding to first one household, then another, her conviction that there was a big sensation bundled up in the bosom of the post commander and his cronies, and she knew, she said, it was something about field. everybody, of course, was aware by eight o'clock that field had gone with ray, and while no officer presumed to ask if it was because ray, or field, had applied for the detail, no woman would have been restrained therefrom by any fear of webb. well he realized this fact and, dodging the first that sought to waylay him on the walk, he had later intrenched himself, as it were, in his office, where dade, blake and the old post surgeon had sat with him in solemn conclave while bill hay brought his clerk, bar-keeper, store-keeper, pete, the general utility man, and even "crapaud," the halfbreed, to swear in succession they had no idea who could have tampered with either the safe or the stables. closely had they been cross-examined; and, going away in turn, they told of the nature of the cross-examination; yet to no one of their number had been made known what had occurred to cause such close questioning. hay had been forbidden to speak of it, even to his household. the officers-of-the-day were sworn to secrecy. neither wilkins nor the acting adjutant was closeted with the council, and neither, therefore, could do more than guess at the facts. yet that somebody knew, in part at least, the trend of suspicion, was at once apparent to webb and his councilors when, about nine o'clock, he took blake and dade to see those significant "bar shoe" hoof prints. every one of them had disappeared. "by jove!" said webb, "i know _now_ i should have set a sentry with orders to let no man walk or ride about here. see! he's used his foot to smear this--and this--and here again!" there in a dozen places were signs old indian trailers read as they would read an open book. places where, pivoting on the heel, a heavy foot had crushed right and left into the yielding soil of the roadway, making concentric, circular grooves and ridges of sandy earth, where, earlier in the morning dan's and harney's dainty hoof prints were the only new impressions. for nearly fifty yards had this obliterating process been carried on, and in a dozen spots, until the road dipped over the rounding edge and, hard and firm now, went winding down to the flats. here webb, with dade and hay, returned, while blake meandered on, musing over what he had been told. "it's a government heel, not a cowboy's," had hay said, hopefully, of the print of that pivoting lump of leather. "that gives no clue to the wearer," answered blake. "our men often sell their new boots, or give their old ones, to these hangers-on about the post. so far as i'm concerned, the care with which the print has been erased is proof to me that the major saw just what he said. somebody about hay's place was mighty anxious to cover his tracks." but a dozen "somebodies" besides the stablemen hung there at all hours of the day, infesting the broad veranda, the barroom and stores, striving to barter the skin of coyote, skunk or beaver, or, when they had nothing to sell, pleading for an unearned drink. half a dozen of these furtive, beetle-browed, swarthy sons of the prairie lounged there now, as the elder officers and the trader returned, while blake went on his way, exploring. with downcast eyes he followed the road to and across a sandy watercourse in the low ground, and there, in two or three places found the fresh imprint of that same bar shoe, just as described by webb. then with long, swift strides he came stalking up the hill again, passing the watchful eyes about the corral without a stop, and only checking speed as he neared the homestead of the hays, where, once again, he became engrossed in studying the road and the hard pathways at the side. something that he saw, or fancied that he saw, perhaps a dozen yards from the trader's gate, induced him to stop, scrutinize, turn, and, with searching eyes, to cross diagonally the road in the direction of the stables, then again to retrace his steps and return to the eastward side. just as he concluded his search, and once more went briskly on his way, a blithe voice hailed him from an upper window, and the radiant face and gleaming white teeth of nanette flower appeared between the opening blinds. one might have said he expected both the sight and question. "lost anything, captain blake?" "nothing but--a little time, miss flower," was the prompt reply as, without a pause, the tall captain, raising his forage-cap, pushed swiftly on. "but i've found something," muttered he to himself, between his set teeth, and within five minutes more was again closeted with the post commander. "you saw it?" asked webb. "yes. three or four places--down in the arroyo. more than that--where's hay?" he broke off suddenly, for voices were sounding in the adjoining room. "here, with dade and the doctor." "then--" but blake got no further. breathless and eager, little sandy ray came bounding through the hallway into the presence of the officers. he could hardly gasp his news: "major, you told me to keep watch and let you know. there's a courier coming--hard! mother saw him--too, through the--spyglass. she says they--see him, too at stabber's--and she's afraid----" "right!" cried webb. "quick, blake; rush out half a dozen men to meet him. those devils may indeed cut him off. thank you, my little man," he added, bending down and patting the dark curly head, as blake went bounding away. "thank you, sandy. i'll come at once to the bluff. we'll save him. never you fear." in less than no time, one might say, all fort frayne seemed hurrying to the northward bluff. the sight of tall captain blake bounding like a greyhound toward his troop barracks, and shouting for his first sergeant,--of major webb almost running across the parade toward the flagstaff,--of sandy rushing back to his post at the telescope,--of the adjutant and officer of the day tearing away toward the stables, where many of the men were now at work, were signs that told unerringly of something stirring, probably across the platte. as luck would have it, in anticipation of orders to move, the troop horses had not been sent out to graze, and were still in the sunshiny corrals, and long before the news was fully voiced through officers' row, blake and six of his men were in saddle and darting away for the ford, carbines advanced the instant they struck the opposite bank. from the bluff webb had shouted his instructions. "we could see him a moment ago," for half a dozen field glasses were already brought to bear, "six miles out,--far east of the road. feel well out to your left to head off any of stabber's people. three of them have been seen galloping out already." "aye, aye, sir," came the answering shout, as blake whirled and tore away after his men. there had been a time in his distant past when the navy, not the army, was his ambition, and he still retained some of the ways of the sea. just as webb feared, some few of stabber's young warriors had been left behind, and their eagle-eyed lookout had sighted the far-distant courier almost as soon as sandy's famous telescope. now they were hastening to head him off. but he seemed to have totally vanished. level as appeared the northward prairie from the commanding height on which stood the throng of eager watchers, it was in reality a low, rolling surface like some lazily heaving sea that had become suddenly solidified. long, broad, shallow dips or basins lay between broad, wide, far-extending, yet slight, upheavals. through the shallows turned and twisted dozens of dry arroyos, all gradually trending toward the platte,--the drainage system of the frontier. five miles out began the ascent to the taller divides and ridges that gradually, and with many an intervening dip, rose to the watershed between the platte and the score of tiny tributaries that united to form the south cheyenne. it was over moccasin, or ten mile, ridge, as it was often called, and close to the now abandoned stage road, ray's daring little command had disappeared from view toward eight o'clock. it was at least two, possibly three, miles east of the stage-road that the solitary courier had first been sighted, and when later seen by the major and certain others of the swift gathering spectators, he was heading for frayne, though still far east of the highroad. and now mrs. ray, on the north piazza, with webb by her side and nannie blake, mrs. dade and esther in close attendance, was briefly telling the major what she had seen up stream. one glance through sandy's glass had told her the little fellow had not watched in vain. then, with the ready binocular, she had turned to the indian encampment up the platte, and almost instantly saw signs of commotion,--squaws and children running about, ponies running away and indian boys pursuing. then, one after another, three indians,--warriors, presumably,--had lashed away northward and she had sent sandy on the run to tell the major, even while keeping watch on this threatening three until they shot behind a long, low ridge that stretched southward from the foothills. beyond doubt they were off in hopes of bagging that solitary horseman, speeding with warning of some kind for the shelter of fort frayne. by this time there must have been nearly two hundred men, women and children lining the crest of the bluff, and speaking in low, tense voices when they spoke at all, and straining their eyes for the next sight of the coming courier or the swift dash of the intercepting sioux. well out now, and riding at the gallop, blake and his half dozen, widely separating so as to cover much of the ground, were still in view, and dade and his officers breathed more freely. "see what a distance those beggars of stabber's will have to ride," said the veteran captain to the little group about him. "they dare not cross that ridge short of three miles out. it's my belief they'll see blake and never cross at all." then up rose a sudden shout. "there he is!" "there he comes!" "see!" "see!" and fifty hands pointed eagerly northeastward where a little black dot had suddenly popped into view out of some friendly, winding watercourse, four miles still away, at least count, and far to the right and front of blake's easternmost trooper. every glass was instantly brought to bear upon the swiftly coming rider, sandy's shrill young voice ringing out from the upper window. "it isn't one of papa's men. his horse is a gray!" who then could it be? and what could it mean, this coming of a strange courier from a direction so far to the east of the travelled road? another moment and up rose another shout. "look!"--"there they are!" "sioux for certain!" and from behind a little knob or knoll on the meridian ridge three other black dots had swept into view and were shooting eastward down the gradual slope. another moment and they were swallowed up behind still another low divide, but in that moment they had seen and been seen by the westernmost of blake's men, and now, one after another as the signals swept from the left, the seven swerved. their line of direction had been west of north. now, riding like mad, they veered to the northeast, and a grand race was on between the hidden three and the would-be rescuers;--all heading for that part of the low-rolling prairie where the lone courier might next be expected to come into view;--friends and foes alike, unconscious of the fact that, following one of those crooked arroyos with its stiff and precipitous banks, he had been turned from his true course full three quarters of a mile, and now, with a longer run, but a clear field ahead, was steering straight for frayne. thus the interest of the on-lookers at the bluff became divided. women with straining eyes gazed at the lonely courier, and then fearfully scanned the ridge line between him and the northward sky; praying with white lips for his safety; dreading with sinking hearts that at any moment those savage riders should come darting over the divide and swooping down upon their helpless prey. men, with eyes that snapped and fists that clinched, or fingers that seemed twitching with mad desire to clasp pistol butt or sabre hilt, or loud barking carbine, ran in sheer nervous frenzy up and down the bluffs, staring only at blake's far-distant riders, swinging their hats and waving them on, praying only for another sight of the sioux in front of the envied seven, and craving with all their soldier hearts to share in the fight almost sure to follow. on the rays' piazza, with pallid face and quivering lips, esther dade clung to her mother's side. mrs. ray had encircled with her arm the slender waist of nannie blake, whose eyes never for an instant quit their gaze after the swift-speeding dots across the distant prairie. all her world was there in one tall, vehement horseman. other troopers, mounting at the stables, had spurred away under captain gregg, and were splashing through the ford. other denizens of fort frayne, hearing of the excitement, came hurrying to the bluff, hangers-on from the trader's store and corral, the shopman himself, even the bar-keeper in his white jacket and apron; two or three panting, low-muttering halfbreeds, their eyes aflame, their teeth gleaming in their excitement; then hay himself, and with him,--her dark face almost livid, her hair disordered and lips rigid and almost purple, with deep lines at the corners of her mouth,--nanette flower. who that saw could ever forget her as she forced her way through the crowd and stood at the very brink, saying never a word, but swiftly focussing her ready glasses? hardly had she reached the spot when wild, sudden, exultant, a cheer burst fiercely from the lips of the throng. "look!" "look!" "by god, they've got 'em!" yelled man after man, in mad excitement. three black dots had suddenly swept into view, well to the right of blake's men, and came whirling down grade straight for the lone courier on the gray. theirs had been the short side, ours the long diagonal of the race. theirs was the race, perhaps, but not the prize, for he had turned up far from the expected point. still they had him, if only,--if only those infernal troopers failed to see them. there was their hope! plainly in view of the high bluff at the fort, they were yet hidden by a wave of the prairie from sight of the interceptors, still heading for the ridge the warriors had just left behind. only for a second or two, however. a yell of fierce rejoicing went up from the crowd on the bluff as the easternmost of blake's black specks was seen suddenly to check, then to launch out again, no longer to the north, but straight to his right, followed almost immediately by every one of the seven. then, too, swerved the would-be slayers, in long, graceful circles, away from the wrath to come. and, while the unconscious courier still rode, steadily loping toward the desired refuge, away for the breaks and ravines of the sleeping bear lashed the thwarted sioux,--away in hopeless stern chase spurred the pursuers, and while women sobbed and laughed and screamed, and men danced and shouted and swore with delight, one dark face, livid, fearsome, turned back from the bluff, and dr. tracy, hastening to the side of his enchantress, caught, in amaze, these words, almost hissed between set and grinding teeth. "seven to three--shame!" chapter viii more strange discoveries but frayne was far from done with excitement for the day. for a while all eyes seemed centred on the chase, now scattered miles toward the east, and, save for two of the number left behind, blown, spent and hopelessly out of the race, soon lost to view among the distant swales and ravines. then everyone turned to welcome the coming harbinger, to congratulate him on his escape, to demand the reason for his daring essay. gregg and his men were first to reach him, and while one of them was seen through the levelled glasses to dismount and give the courier his fresh horse, thereby showing that the gray was well nigh exhausted, the whole party turned slowly toward the post. then one of their number suddenly darted forth from the group and came spurring at top speed straight for the ford. "that means news of importance," said webb, at the instant. "and gregg and all of his squad are coming in,--not following blake. that means he and they are more needed elsewhere. come on, mr. ross. we'll go down and meet that fellow. orderly, have my horse sent to the ford." so, followed by three or four of the younger officers,--the married men being restrained, as a rule, by protesting voices, close at hand,--the commanding officer went slipping and sliding down a narrow, winding pathway, a mere goat track, many of the soldiers following at respectful distance, while all the rest of the gathered throng remained at the crest, eagerly, almost breathlessly awaiting the result. they saw the trooper come speeding in across the flats from the northeast; saw as he reached the "bench" that he was spurring hard; heard, even at the distance, the swift batter of hoofs upon the resounding sod; could almost hear the fierce panting of the racing steed; saw horse and rider come plunging down the bank and into the stream, and shoving breast deep through the foaming waters; then issue, dripping, on the hither shore, where, turning loose his horse, the soldier leaped from saddle and saluted his commander. but only those about the major heard the stirring message: "captain gregg's compliments, sir. it's rudge from the dry fork. sergeant kelly feared that kennedy hadn't got through, for most of lame wolf's people pulled away from the fork yesterday morning, coming this way, and the sergeant thought it was to unite with stabber to surround any small command that might be sent ahead from here. rudge was ordered to make a wide sweep to the east, so as to get around them, and that's what took him so long. he left not two hours after kennedy." [illustration: "the soldier leaped from his saddle."] in spite of his years of frontier service and training in self control, webb felt, and others saw, that his face was paling. ray, with only fifty men at his back, was now out of sight--out of reach--of the post, and probably face to face with, if not already surrounded by, the combined forces of the sioux. not a second did he hesitate. among the swarm that had followed him was a young trumpeter of "k" troop, reckless of the fact that he should be at barracks, packing his kit. as luck would have it, there at his back hung the brazen clarion, held by its yellow braid and cord. "boots and saddles, kerry, quick!" ordered the major, and as the ringing notes re-echoed from bluff and building wall and came laughing back from the distant crags at the south, the little throng at the bank and the crowd at the point of the bluff had scattered like startled coveys,--the men full run for the barracks and stables, never stopping to "reason why." nearly half an hour later, gray-haired captain dade stood at the point of bluff near the flagstaff, esther, pale and tearful, by his side, waving adieu and godspeed to webb, who had halted in saddle on reaching the opposite bank and was watching his little column through the ford,--three stanch troops, each about sixty strong, reinforced by half a dozen of ray's men left behind in the forward rush at dawn, but scorning disqualification of any kind now that danger menaced their beloved captain and their comrades of the sorrel troop. in all the regiment no man was loved by the rank and file as was billy ray. brilliant soldiers, gifted officers, sterling men were many of his comrades, but ever since he first joined the ----th on the heels of the civil war, more than any one of its commissioned list, ray had been identified with every stirring scout and campaign, fight or incident in the regimental history. truscott, blake, hunter and gregg among the junior captains had all had their tours of detached duty--instructing at west point, recruiting in the big eastern cities, serving as aide-de-camp to some general officer, but of ray it could be said he had hardly been east of the missouri from the day he joined until his wedding day, and only rarely and briefly since that time. more than any officer had he been prominent in scout after scout--arizona, mexico, texas, the indian territory, kansas, colorado, nebraska, wyoming, the dakotas, montana, even parts of idaho and utah he knew as he used to know the roads and runways of the blue grass region of his native state. from the british line to the gulfs of mexico and california he had studied the west. the regiment was his home, his intense pride, and its men had been his comrades and brothers. the veterans trusted and swore by, the younger troopers looked up to and well nigh worshipped him, and now, as the story that the sioux had probably surrounded the sorrel troop went like wild fire through the garrison, even the sick in hospital begged to be allowed to go, and one poor lad, frantic through fever and enforced confinement, broke from the hold of the half-hearted attendant; tore over to "k" troop barracks, demanding his "kit" of sergeant schreiber, and, finding the quarters deserted, the men all gone to stables, dared to burst into that magnate's own room in search of his arms and clothing, and thereby roused a heavily sleeping soldier, who damned him savagely until, through wild raving, he gathered that some grave danger menaced captain ray. even his befuddled senses could fathom that! and while guards and nurses bore the patient, shrieking and struggling, back to hospital, kennedy soused his hot head in the cooling waters of their frontier lavatory and was off like a shot to the stables. it was long before he found his horse, for the guard had taken kilmaine to "f" troop's stables, and kennedy had been housed by "k." it was longer still before he could persuade the guard that he "had a right," as he put it, to ride after the major. not until captain dade had been consulted would they let him go. not, indeed, until in person kennedy had pleaded his cause with that cool-headed commander. dade noted the flushed and swollen face, but reasoned that nothing would more speedily shake the whiskey from his system than a long gallop in that glorious air and sunshine. "major webb is following the trail of captain ray," said he. "you follow the major's. you can't miss him, and there are no more indians now to interpose. you should catch him by noon--then give him this." "this" was a copy of a late despatch just in from laramie, saying that the revolt had reached the sioux at the agencies and reservations on the white earth, and would demand the attention of every man at the post. no reinforcement, therefore, could be looked for from that quarter until the general came. it was no surprise to dade. it could be none to webb, for old red cloud had ever been an enemy, even when bribed and petted and fed and coddled in his village on the wakpa schicha. his nephew led the bolt afield. no wonder the old war chief backed him with abundant food, ammunition and eager warriors sent "from home." but it was after eleven when kennedy drove his still wearied horse through the platte and, far to the north, saw the dun dust cloud that told where webb's little column was trotting hard to the support of the sorrels. his head was aching and he missed the morning draught of soldier coffee. he had eaten nothing since his cold lunch at the major's, and would have been wise had he gone to mistress mcgann and begged a cup of the fragrant java with which she had stimulated her docile master ere he rode forth, but the one idea uppermost in kennedy's muddled brain was that the sorrels were trapped by the sioux and every trooper was needed to save them. at three in the morning he felt equal to fighting the whole sioux nation, with all its dozen tribes and dialects. at : he had been whipped to a stand by just one of their number, and, "mother av moses," one that spoke english as well, or as ill, as any man in the ----th. sore in soul and body was kennedy, and sore and stiff was his gallant bay, kilmaine, when these comrades of over three years' service shook the spray of the platte from their legs and started doggedly northward on the trail. northward they went for full three miles, kilmaine sulky and protesting. the dust cloud was only partially visible now, hidden by the ridge a few miles ahead, when, over that very ridge, probably four miles away to the right front, kennedy saw coming at speed a single rider, and reined to the northeast to meet him. blake and his men had gone far in that direction. two of their number, with horses too slow for a chase after nimble ponies, had, as we have seen, drifted back, and joined, unprepared though they were for the field, the rear of webb's column. but now came another, not aiming for webb, but heading for frayne. it meant news from the chase that might be important. it would take him but little from the direct line to the north, why not meet him and hear? kennedy reined to the right, riding slowly now and seeking the higher level from which he could command the better view. at last they neared each other, the little irish veteran, sore-headed and in evil mood, and a big, wild-eyed, scare-faced trooper new to the frontier, spurring homeward with panic in every feature, but rejoicing at sight of a comrade soldier. "git back; git back!" he began to shout, as soon as he got within hailing distance. "there's a million indians just over the ridge. they've got the captain----" "what captain?" yelled kennedy, all ablaze at the instant. "spake up, ye shiverin' loon!" "blake! he got way ahead of us----" "then it's to him you should be runnin', not home, ye cur! turn about now! turn about or i'll----" and in a fury pat had seized the other's rein, and, spurring savagely at kilmaine,--both horses instantly waking, as though responsive to the wrath and fervor of their little master,--he fairly whirled the big trooper around and, despite fearsome protests, bore him onward toward the ridge, swift questioning as they rode. how came they to send a raw rookie on such a quest? why, the rookie gasped in explanation that he was on stable guard, and the captain took the first six men in sight. how happened it that the captain got so far ahead of him? there was no keepin' up with the captain. he was on his big, raw-boned race horse, chasin' three indians that was firin' and had hit meisner, but there was still three of the troop to follow him, and the captain ordered "come ahead," until all of a sudden, as they filed round a little knoll, the three indians they'd been chasin' turned about and let 'em have it, and down went another horse, and corporal feeney was killed sure, and he, the poor young rookie, saw indians in every direction, "comin' straight at 'em," and what else could he do but gallop for home--and help? all this, told with much gasping on his part, and heard with much blasphemy by kennedy, brought the strangely assorted pair at swift gallop over the springy turf back along the line of that panicky, yet most natural retreat. twice would the big fellow have broken away and again spurred for home, but the little game cock held him savagely to his work and so, together, at last they neared the curtaining ridge. "now, damn you!" howled kennedy, "whip out your carbine and play you're a man till we see what's in front! an' if ye play false, the first shot from this barker," with a slap at the butt of his springfield, "goes through your heart." and this was what they saw as, together, they rounded the hillock and came in view of the low ground beyond. half way down the long, gradual slope, in a shallow little dip, possibly an old buffalo wallow, two or three horses were sprawled, and a tiny tongue of flame and blue smoke spitting from over the broad, brown backs told that someone, at least, was on the alert and defensive. out on the prairie, three hundred yards beyond, a spotted indian pony, heels up, was rolling on the turf, evidently sorely wounded. behind this rolling parapet crouched a feathered warrior, and farther still away, sweeping and circling on their mettlesome steeds, three more savage braves were darting at speed. already they had sighted the coming reinforcements, and while two seemed frantically signalling toward the northwest, the third whirled his horse and sped madly away in that direction. "millions, be damned!" yelled kennedy. "there's only three. come on, ye scut!" and down they went, full tilt at the sioux, yet heading to cover and reach the beleaguered party in the hollow. someone of the besieged waved a hat on high. two more carbines barked their defiance at the feathered foe, and then came a pretty exhibit of savage daring and devotion. disdainful of the coming troopers and of the swift fire now blazing at them from the pit, the two mounted warriors lashed their ponies to mad gallop and bore down straight for their imperilled brother, crouching behind the stricken "pinto." never swerving, never halting, hardly checking speed, but bending low over and behind their chargers' necks, the two young braves swept onward and with wild whoop of triumph, challenge and hatred, gathered up and slung behind the rider of the heavier pony the agile and bedizened form on the turf; then circled away, defiant, taunting, gleeful, yes and even more:--with raging eyes, kennedy sprang from saddle and, kneeling, drove shot after shot at the scurrying pair. two of the three troopers at the hollow followed suit. even the big, blubbering lad so lately crazed with fear unslung his weapon and fired thrice into empty space, and a shout of wrath and renewed challenge to "come back and fight it out" rang out after the sioux, for to the amaze of the lately besieged, to the impotent fury of the irishman, in unmistakable, yet mostly unquotable, english, the crippled warrior was yelling mingled threat and imprecation. "who was it, kennedy?--and where did you ever see him before?" a moment later, demanded captain blake, almost before he could grasp the irishman's hands and shower his thanks, and even while stanching the flow of blood from a furrow along his sun-burnt cheek. "what's that he said about eating your heart?" and kennedy, his head cleared now through the rapture of battle, minded him of his promise to field, and lied like a hero. "sure, how should i know him, sorr? they're all of the same spit." "but, he called you by name. i heard him plainly. so did meisner, here," protested blake. "hello, what have you there, corporal?" he added, as young feeney, the "surely killed," came running back, bearing in his hand a gaily ornamented pouch of buckskin, with long fringes and heavy crusting of brilliant beads. "picked it up by that pony yonder, sir," answered the corporal, with a salute. "beg pardon, sir, but will the captain take my horse? his is hit too bad to carry him." two, indeed, of blake's horses were crippled, and it was high time to be going. mechanically he took the pouch and tied it to his waist belt. "thank god no _man_ is hurt!" he said. "but--now back to frayne! watch those ridges and be ready if a feather shows, and spread out a little--don't ride in a bunch." but there was bigger game miles to the west, demanding all the attention of the gathered sioux. there were none to spare to send so far, and though three warriors,--one of them raging and clamoring for further attempt despite his wounds,--hovered about the retiring party, blake and his fellows within another hour were in sight of the sheltering walls of frayne; and, after a last, long-range swapping of shots, with blake and meisner footing it most of the way, led their crippled mounts in safety toward that rubicon of the west--the swift flowing platte. they were still three miles out when blake found leisure to examine the contents of that beaded pouch, and the first thing drawn from its depths was about the last a christian would think to find in the wallet of a sioux--a dainty little billet, scented with wood violet,--an envelope of delicate texture, containing a missive on paper to match, and the envelope was addressed in a strange, angular, characteristic hand that blake recognized at once, to a man of whom, by that name at least, he had never heard before: "mr. ralph moreau, "_en ville._" chapter ix bad news from the front it might well be imagined that a man returning from such a morning's work as had been blake's could be excused from duty the rest of the day. he and his little party had had a spirited running fight of several hours with an evasive and most exasperating trio of warriors, better mounted for swift work than were the troopers. he had managed eventually to bring down one of the indians who lingered a little too long within short range of the carbines, but it was the pony, not the rider, that they killed. meanwhile other indians had appeared on distant divides, and one feathered brave had galloped down to meet his comrades, and fire a few shots at the pursuing pale faces. but at no time, until near their supports and far from the fort, had the sioux halted for a hand to hand fight, and blake's long experience on the frontier had stood him in good stead. he saw they were playing for one of two results;--either to lure him and his fellows in the heat of pursuit far round to the northwest, where were the united hundreds of lame wolf and stabber stalking that bigger game, or else to tempt blake himself so far ahead of his fellows as to enable them to suddenly whirl about, cut him off, and, three on one, finish him then and there; then speed away in frenzied delight, possessors of a long-coveted scalp. they well knew blake,--almost as well as they did ray. many a year he had fought them through the summer and fed them through the winter. they, their squaws and pappooses, had fattened on his bounty when the snows were deep and deer were gone, and their abundant rations had been feasted or gambled away. many of their number liked him well, but now they were at the war game again, and, business is business with the aborigines. blake was a "big chief," and he who could wear at his belt the scalp of so prominent a pale face leader would be envied among his people. "long legs," as they called him, however, was no fool. brave and zealous as he was, blake was not rash. he well knew that unless he and his few men kept together they would simply play into the hands of the indians. it would have been easy for him, with his big racer, to outstrip his little party and close with the sioux. only one of the troopers had a horse that could keep pace with pyramus, but nothing he could gain by such a proceeding would warrant the desperate risk. matchless as we have reason to believe our men, we cannot so believe our mounts. unmatched would better describe them. meisner's horse might have run with the captain's, until crippled by the bullets of the sioux, but bent's and flannigan's were heavy and slow, and so it resulted that the pursuit, though determined, was not so dangerous to the enemy but that they were able to keenly enjoy it, until the swift coming of kennedy and his captive comrade turned the odds against them, for then two of blake's horses had given out through wounds and weakness, and they had the pursuers indeed "in a hole." that relief came none too soon. blake and his fellows had been brought to a stand; but now the sioux sped away out of range; the crippled party limped slowly back to the shelter of frayne, reaching the post long hours after their spirited start, only to find the women and children, at least, in an agony of dread and excitement, and even dade and his devoted men looking grave and disturbed. unless all indications failed, ray and his people must have been having the fight of their lives. two couriers had galloped back from moccasin ridge to say that major webb's scouts could faintly hear the sound of rapid firing far ahead, and that, through the glass, at least a dozen dead horses or ponies could be seen scattered over the long slope to the elk tooth range, miles further on. webb had pushed forward to ray's support, and blake, calling for fresh horses for himself and two of his men, bade the latter get food and field kits and be ready to follow him. then he hastened to join his devoted young wife, waiting with mrs. ray upon the piazza. dade, who had met him at the ford, had still much to tell and even more to hear; but at sight of those two pale, anxious faces, lifted his cap and called out cheerily, "i hand him over to you, mrs. blake, and will see him later," then turned and went to his own doorway, and took esther's slender form in his strong arms and kissed the white brow and strove to think of something reassuring to say, and never thought to ask blake what he had in that fine indian tobacco pouch swinging there at his belt, for which neglect the tall captain was more than grateful. it was a woman's letter, as we know, and that, he argued, should be dealt with only in a woman's way. sorely puzzled as blake had been by the discovery, he had been able on the long homeward march,--walking until in sight of frayne and safety, then galloping ahead on the corporal's horse,--to think it out, as he said, in several ways. miss flower had frequently ridden up the valley and visited the indian village across the platte. miss flower might easily have dropped that note, and some squaw, picking it up, had surrendered it to the first red man who demanded it, such being the domestic discipline of the savage. the indian kept it, as he would any other treasure trove for which he had no use, in hopes of reward for its return, said blake. it was queer, of course, that the indian in whose pouch it was found should have been so fluent a speaker of english, yet many a sioux knew enough of our tongue to swear volubly and talk ten words of vengeance to come. there were several ways, as blake reasoned, by which that letter might have got into the hands of the enemy. but at any rate, with everything said, it was a woman's letter. he had no right to read it. he would first confide in his wife, and, if she said so, in mrs. ray. then what they decided should decide him. but now came a new problem. despite the long morning of peril and chase and excitement, there was still much more ahead. his men were in saddle; his troop was afield; the foe was in force on the road to the north; the battle, mayhap, was on at the very moment, and frayne and home was no place for him when duty called at the distant front. only, there was nan, silent, tremulous, to be sure, and with such a world of piteous dread and pleading in her beautiful eyes. it was hard to have to tell her he must go again and at once, hard to have to bid her help him in his hurried preparations, when she longed to throw herself in his arms and be comforted. he tried to smile as he entered the gate, and thereby cracked the brittle, sun-dried court plaster with which a sergeant had patched his cheek at the stables. the would-be glad-some grin started the blood again, and it trickled down and splashed on his breast where poor nan longed to pillow her bonny head, and the sight of it, despite her years of frontier training, made her sick and faint. he caught her in his left arm, laughing gayly, and drew her to the other side. "got the mate to that scoop of billy's," he cried, holding forth his other hand to mrs. ray. "'tisn't so deep, perhaps, but 'twill serve, 'twill do, and i'll crow over him to-night. come in with us, mrs. ray. i--i've something to show you." "one minute," said that wise young matron. "let me tell the children where to find me. sandy and billy are on post at the telescope. they wouldn't leave it even for luncheon." with that she vanished, and husband and wife were alone. "you must go, gerald," she sobbed--"i know it, but--isn't there _some_ way?--won't captain dade send more men with you?" "if he did, nan, they'd only hamper me with horses that drag behind. be brave, little woman. webb has swept the way clear by this time! come, i need your help." and the door closed on the soldier and his young wife. they never saw that nanette flower, in saddle, was riding swiftly up the row, and, for the first time since her coming to frayne, without an escort. dade reappeared upon his front gallery in time to greet her, but esther, after one quick glance, had darted again within. dade saw unerringly that miss flower was in no placid frame of mind. her cheeks were pale; her mouth had that livid look that robbed her face of all beauty; but her eyes were full and flashing with excitement. "what news, captain?" she hailed, and the joyous, silvery ring had gone from her voice. "they tell me captain blake is back--two horses crippled, two men hit, including himself." "his own share is a scratch he wouldn't think of mentioning outside the family, miss flower," answered dade, with grim civility. he had his reasons for disapproving of the young woman; yet they were not such as warranted him in showing her the least discourtesy. he walked to his gate and met her at the curb beyond and stood stroking the arching neck of her spirited horse--"harney" again. "did they--were there any indians--killed?" she asked, with anxiety scarcely veiled. "oh, they downed one of them," answered the captain, eying her closely the while and speaking with much precision, "a fellow who cursed them freely in fluent english." yes, she was surely turning paler.--"a bold, bad customer, from all accounts. blake thought he must be of lame wolf's fellows, because he--seemed to know kennedy so well and to hate him. kennedy has only just come down from fort beecher, where wolf's people have been at mischief." "but what became of him? what did they do with him?" interrupted the girl, her lips quivering in spite of herself. "oh,--left him, i suppose," answered the veteran, with deliberate design. "what else could they do? there was no time for ceremony. his fellow savages, you know, can attend to that." for a moment she sat there rigid, her black eyes staring straight into the imperturbable face of the old soldier. no one had ever accused dade of cruelty or unkindness to man or woman, especially to woman; yet here he stood before this suffering girl and, with obvious intent, pictured to her mind's eye a warrior stricken and left unburied or uncared for on the field. whatever his reasons, he stabbed and meant to stab, and for just one moment she seemed almost to droop and reel in saddle; then, with splendid rally, straightened up again, her eyes flashing, her lip curling in scorn, and with one brief, emphatic phrase ended the interview and, whirling harney about, smote him sharply with her whip, and darted away:-- "true!" said she. "civilized warfare!" "if that girl isn't more than half savage," said dade, to himself, as harney tore away out of the garrison on the road to the ford, "i am more than half sioux. oh, for news of ray!" ray indeed! it was now nearly four o'clock. telegrams had been coming and going over the laramie wire. "the chief," as they called their general, with only one of his staff in attendance, had reached cheyenne on time, and, quitting the train, declining dinner at the hotel and having but a word or two with the "platform club,"--the little bevy of officers from fort russell whose custom it was to see the westbound train through almost every day--had started straightway for laramie behind the swiftest team owned by the quartermaster's department, while another, in relay, awaited him at the chugwater nearly fifty miles out. driving steadily through the starlit night, he should reach the old frontier fort by dawn at the latest, and what news would dade have to send him there? not a word had he uttered to either the officers who respectfully greeted, or reporters who eagerly importuned, him as to the situation at frayne; but men who had served with him in arizona and on the yellowstone many a year before, knew well that grave tidings had reached him. dade had, in fact, supplemented webb's parting despatch with another saying that blake's little party, returning, had just been sighted through the telescope nine miles out, with two men afoot. but not until the general reached lodge pole creek did the message meet him, saying that webb's advance guard could hear the distant attack on ray. not until he reached the chugwater in the early night could he hope to hear the result. it was nightfall when the awful suspense of the garrison at frayne was even measurably lifted. blake, with three troopers at his back, had then been gone an hour, and was lost in the gloaming before dr. tracy's orderly, with a face that plainly told the nervous tension of his two hours' ride, left his reeking, heaving horse at the stables and climbed the steep path to the flagstaff, the shortest way to the quarters of the commanding officer. despite the gathering darkness, he had been seen by a dozen eager watchers and was deluged with questions by trembling, tearful women and by grave, anxious men. "there's been a fight; that's all i know," he said. "i was with the pack mules and the ambulances and didn't get to see it. all i saw was dead ponies way out beyond ten mile ridge. where's the major?--i mean the captain?" no! the orderly didn't know who was killed or wounded, or that anybody was killed and wounded. all he knew was that dr. tracy came galloping back and ordered the ambulances to scoot for the front and him to spur every bit of the way back to frayne with the note for captain dade. all this was told as he eagerly pushed his way along the board walk; soldiers' wives hanging on his words and almost on him; officers' wives and daughters calling from the galleries or running to the gates, and dade heard the hubbub almost as quickly as did esther, who hurried to the door. by the light of the hall lamp the commander read the pencilled superscription of the gummed envelope and the word "immediate" at the corner. the same light fell on a dozen anxious, pleading faces beyond the steps. his hand shook in spite of himself, and he knew he could not open and read it in their presence. "one moment," he said, his heart going out to them in sympathy as well as dread. "you shall hear in one moment," and turned aside into the little army parlor. but he could not turn from his wife and child. they followed and stood studying his pale face as he read the fateful words that told so little, yet so much:-- reached ray just in time. sharp affair. dr. waller will have to come at once, as tracy goes on with us to rescue stage people at dry fork. better send infantry escort and all hospital attendants that can be possibly spared; also chaplain. sergeants burroughs and wing, corporal foot and troopers denny, flood, kerrigan and preusser killed. many wounded--lieutenant field seriously. webb. chapter x "i'll never go back" a sharp affair indeed was that of this september day!--a fight long talked of on the frontier if soon forgotten in "the states." obedient to his orders to push to the relief of the imperilled party on the dry fork, ray had made good time to moccasin ridge, even though saving horses and men for the test of the later hours. well he knew his march would be watched by some of stabber's band, but little did he dream at starting that indian strategy would take the unusual form of dropping what promised to be a sure thing, leaving the people at the stage station to the guardianship of less than a dozen braves, and launching out with a big band to aid a little one in attack on one lone detachment that might not come at all. but lame wolf reasoned that the people penned at the stage station were in no condition to attempt escape. they were safe whenever he chose to return to them, and lame wolf knew this of stabber--that he had long been a hanger-on about the military reservations, that he had made a study of the methods of the white chiefs, that he was able to almost accurately predict what their course would be in such event as this, and that stabber had recently received accessions whose boast it was that they had information at first hand of the white chief's plans and intentions. stabber had sent swift runners to lame wolf urging him to bring his warriors to aid him in surrounding the first troops sent forth from frayne. stabber had noted, year after year, that it was the almost invariable policy of our leaders to order a small force at the start, and then, when that was crushed, to follow it with the big one that should have been sent in the first place. kennedy's successful coming was known to stabber quite as soon as it was to webb. it may well be that stabber let him through, feeling confident what the result would be, and then, despite a certain jealousy, not confined entirely to savage rival leaders, lame wolf had confidence in stabber's judgment. ray had expected long range flank fire, and possibly occasional resistance in front; but, assured of stabber's paucity in numbers and believing lame wolf too busy to send stabber substantial aid, he thought a sharp lesson or two would clear his front of such indians as sought to check him, and so rode serenely forward, rejoicing in his mission and in his game and devoted little command. "something beyond that second ridge," he had said to field, in sending him forward with the bulk of the platoon, and field, who had been silent and brooding, woke at the summons and, all animation at the scent of danger, spurred swiftly ahead to join the advance and see for himself what manner of hindrance awaited them, leaving the baker's dozen of his platoon to trot steadily on under lead of its sergeant, while ray, with his trumpeter, followed mid way between his advance and clayton's platoon, intact, moving quietly at the walk and held in reserve. ordinarily ray would himself have ridden to the far front and personally investigated the conditions, but he was anxious that field should understand he held the full confidence of his temporary commander. he wished field to realize that now he had opportunity for honorable distinction, and a chance to show what was in him and, having sent him forward, ray meant to rely on his reports and be ready to back, if possible, his dispositions. nothing so quickly demolishes prejudice in garrison as prowess in the field. not infrequently has an officer gone forth under a cloud and returned under a crown. it is so much easier to be a hero in a single fight than a model soldier through an entire season--at least it was so in the old days. but the moment mr. field dismounted and, leaving his horse with the others along the slope, had gone crouching to the crest, he levelled his glasses for one look, then turned excitedly and began rapid signals to his followers. presently a young trooper came charging down, making straight for ray. "the lieutenant's compliments," said he, "but there's a dozen sioux in sight, and he wishes to know shall he charge." a dozen sioux in sight! that was unusual. ordinarily the indian keeps in hiding, lurking behind sheltering crests and ridges in the open country, or the trees and underbrush where such cover is possible. a dozen in sight? "how far ahead, murray?" asked the captain, as he shook free his rein and started forward at the gallop. "did you see them yourself?" "yes, sir. most of 'em were bunched by the roadside, jabbing with their lances at something or other. two or three were closer in. they must ha' been watching us, for they only quit the ridge just before we came up. then they skedaddled." the vernacular of the civil war days, long since forgotten except about the few veteran soldiers' homes in the east, was still in use at times in regiments like the ----th, which had served the four years through with the army of the potomac. old sergeants give the tone to younger soldiers in all the customs of the service. the captain and the two men now with him had caught up with field's swift trotting support by this time, and the eyes of the men kindled instantly at sight of their leader speeding easily by, cool, confident and as thoroughly at home as though it were the most ordinary skirmish drill. those who have never tried it, do not quite realize what it means to ride in closed ranks and compact column, silent and unswerving, straight forward over open fields toward some equally silent crest, that gives no sign of hostile occupancy, and yet may suddenly blaze with vengeful fires and spit its hissing lead into the faces of the advancing force. even here where the ridge was already gained by two or three of the advance, proving, therefore, that the enemy could not be in possession, men saw by the excitement manifest in the signals of the lieutenant, and indeed of sergeant scott, who had spent fifteen years in the ranks, that indians must be close at hand. the crest was barely five hundred yards in front of the section, and they were still "bunched," a splendid mark if the foe saw fit by sudden dash to regain the ridge and pour in rapid fire from their magazine rifles. every ward of the nation, as a rule, had his winchester or henry,--about a six to one advantage to the red men over the sworn soldier of the government in a short range fight. the lieutenant was a brave lad and all that, and could be relied on to "do his share in a shindy," as the sergeant put it, but when it came to handling the troop to the best advantage, giving them full swing when they met the foe on even terms and a fair field, but holding them clear of possible ambuscade, then "captain billy is the boss in the business," was the estimate of his men, and every heart beat higher at sight of him. he would know just what to do for them, and knowing, would do it. even as he went loping by ray had half turned, with something like a smile in his dark eyes and a nod of his curly head to the sergeant commanding, and a gesture of the gauntleted hand,--a horizontal sweep to right and left, twice repeated,--had given the veteran his cue, and with another moment winsor had the dozen in line at open, yet narrow, intervals, with carbines advanced and ready for business. they saw their captain ride swiftly up the gentle slope until close to the crest, then off he sprang, tossed his reins to the trumpeter and went hurrying afoot to join the lieutenant. they saw him kneeling as though to level his glasses and look fixedly forward; saw field run back to his horse and mount in a twinkling; saw him whirl about as though coming to place himself at their head, yet rein in at once--his charger's fore feet ploughing the turf at some word from their leader. field was eager to charge, but ray had seen for himself and for his men, and ray said, no. another moment and all at the front were again in saddle--field back with the advance, ray coolly seated astride his pet sorrel,--scouting a second ridge, far to the north, with his glasses, and sending, as before, scott and his three troopers straight on to the front, and signalling to the flankers to continue the move. ten seconds' study of the position in the long, wide, shallow depression before him had fathomed the scheme of the savage. the little knot of indians, jabbering, yelping, prodding and circling about some unseen object on the turf, feigning ignorance of the soldiers' coming, was at the old-time trick to get the foremost troopers to charge and chase, to draw them on in all the dash and excitement of the moment, far ahead--three miles, perhaps--of the main body, and so enable all the lurking band behind that second curtain, the farther ridge, to come swooping down to surround, overwhelm and butcher the luckless few, then be off to safe distance long before the mass of the troop could possibly reach the scene. "no you don't, stabber!" laughed ray, as field, not a little chagrined, and the dozen at his back, came trotting within hearing distance. "that dodge was bald-headed when i was a baby. look, field," he continued. "they were jabbing at nothing there on the prairie. that was a fake captive they were stabbing to death. see them all scooting away now. they'll rally beyond that next ridge, and we'll do a little fooling of our own." and so, with occasional peep at feathered warriors on the far left flank, and frequent hoverings of small parties on the distant front, ray's nervy half hundred pushed steadily on. two experiments had satisfied the sioux that the captain himself was in command and they had long since recognized the sorrels. they knew of old ray was not to be caught by time-worn tricks. they had failed to pick off the advance, or the officers, as the troop approached the second ridge. lame wolf's big band was coming fast, but only a dozen of his warriors, sent lashing forward, had as yet reached stabber. the latter was too weak in numbers to think of fighting on even terms, and as ray seemed determined to come ahead, why not let him? word was sent to wolf not to risk showing south of the elk tooth spur. there in the breaks and ravines would be a famous place to lie in ambush, leaving to stabber the duty of drawing the soldiers into the net. so there in the breaks they waited while ray's long skirmish line easily manoeuvred the red sharp-shooters out of their lair on the middle divide. then, reforming column, the little command bore straight away for the elk. but all these diversions took time. twenty miles to the north of frayne stretched the bold divide between the elk fork, dry as a dead tooth much of the year, and the sandy bottom of the box elder. here and there along the ridge were sudden, moundlike upheavals that gave it a picturesque, castellated effect, for, unlike the general run of the country, the elk tooth seemed to have a backbone of rock that shot forth southeastward from the southern limit of the beautiful big horn range; and, in two or three places, during some prehistoric convulsion of nature, it had crushed itself out of shape and forced upward a mass of gleaming rock that even in the course of centuries had not been overgrown with grass. "elk teeth" the indians had called these odd projections, and one of them, the middle one of the three most prominent, was a landmark seen for many a mile except to the south and west. eagle butte was the only point south of the big horn and in the valley of the platte from which it could be seen, and famous were these two points in the old days of the frontier for the beacon fires that burned or the mirror signals that flashed on their summits when the war parties of the sioux were afield. it was the sight of puffs of smoke sailing skyward from the crest of the middle tooth that caught ray's attention the moment he reached the second ridge. a moment more had been devoted to recalling some of his eager men who, from the extreme right of the swinging skirmish line, had broken away in pursuit of certain intentional laggards. then a dozen of the indians, finding themselves no longer followed, gathered at comparatively safe distance across the prairie, and, while in eager consultation, found time for taunting, challenging and occasionally firing at the distant and angering troopers, whom sergeant scott had sharply ordered back, and ray, after calm survey of these fellows through his glass, had then levelled it at the trio of buttes along the distant ridge and turned to field, sitting silent and disappointed by his side. "there, field," said the captain. "take this glass and look at those signal smokes--stabber has more men now at his call than he had when he started, and more yet are coming. they were just praying you would charge with a handful of men. they would have let you through, then closed around and cut you off. do you see, boy?" field touched his hat brim. "you know them best, sir," was the brief answer. "what i wanted was a chance at those fellows hanging about our front and calling us names." "you'll get it, i'm thinking, before we're an hour older. they know whither we're bound and mean to delay us all they can. ah, clayton," he added, as the junior lieutenant rode up to join them, while his platoon dismounted to reset saddles behind the screen of the skirmish line. "men look full of fight, don't they? there, if anywhere, is where we'll get it. i've just been showing field those signal smokes. mount and follow when we're half way down to that clump of cottonwoods yonder. we must reach those people at the stage station to-night, and i may have to give these beggars a lesson first. watch for my signal and come ahead lively if i turn toward you and swing my hat. all ready, field. shove ahead." and this was the last conference between the three officers that eventful morning. as once again the advance guard pushed cautiously forward toward the banks of the arroyo in the bottom, ray turned to field. "skirmish work suits you better than office duty, field. you look far livelier than you did yesterday. don't you begin to see that the major was right in sending you out with us?" and the dark eyes of the trained and experienced soldier shone kindly into the face of the younger man. "i'm glad to be with you, captain ray," was the prompt answer. "it isn't--my being sent, but the _way_ i was sent, or the--cause for which i was sent that stings me. i thought then, and i think now, that if you had been post commander it wouldn't have been done. i don't know yet what charge has been laid at my door----" "there was no time to talk of reasons, field," interposed ray, though his keen eyes were fixed on the distant ridge ahead, beyond which the last of the indians had now disappeared. the outermost troopers, with sergeant scott, were within a few hundred yards of the little clump of cottonwoods that marked the site of a water hole. to the right and left of it curved and twisted the dry water course between its low, jagged, precipitous banks. behind the advance, full four hundred yards, rode the skirmish line from the first platoon, a dozen strong. far out to the east and west the flankers moved steadily northward, keenly watching the slopes beyond them and scanning the crooked line of the arroyo ahead. not a sign at the moment could be seen of the painted foe, yet every man in the troop well knew they swarmed by dozens behind the buttes and ridges ahead. ray and field, riding easily along in rear of the line, with only the trumpeter within earshot, relaxed in no measure the vigilance demanded by the situation, yet each was deeply concerned in the subject of the talk. "there was no time. we had to start at once," continued ray. "wait until you are back at the old desk, field, and you'll find the major is, and was, your stanch friend in this matter--" "i'll never go back to it, captain!" broke in field, impetuously. "if ordered to resume duty as adjutant, come what may, i shall refuse." but before ray could interpose again there came sudden and stirring interruption. from a point far down the "swale," from behind the low bank of the stream bed, three rifle shots rang out on the crisp morning air. the horse of the leading flanker, away out to the right, reared and plunged violently, the rider seeming vainly to strive to check him. almost instantly three mounted warriors were seen tearing madly away northeastward out of the gully, their feathers streaming in the wind. field spurred away to join his men. ray whirled about in saddle, and swung his broad-brimmed scouting hat high above his head, in signal to clayton; then shouted to field. "forward to the cottonwoods. gallop!" he cried. "we need them first of all!" chapter xi a fight with a fury the noonday sun was staring hotly down, an hour later, on a stirring picture of frontier warfare, with that clump of cottonwoods as the central feature. well for ray's half hundred, that brilliant autumn morning, that their leader had had so many a year of indian campaigning! he now seemed to know by instinct every scheme of his savage foe and to act accordingly. ever since the command had come in sight of the elk tooth the conviction had been growing on ray that stabber must have received many accessions and was counting on the speedy coming of others. the signal smokes across the wide valley; the frequent essays to tempt his advance guard to charge and chase; the boldness with which the indians showed on front and flank; the daring pertinacity with which they clung to the stream bed for the sake of a few shots at the foremost troopers, relying, evidently, on the array of their comrades beyond the ridge to overwhelm any force that gave close pursuit; the fact that other indians opened on the advance guard and the left flankers, and that a dozen, at least, tore away out of the sandy arroyo the moment they saw the line start at the gallop;--all these had tended to convince the captain that, now at last, when he was miles from home and succor, the sioux stood ready in abundant force to give him desperate battle. to dart on in chase of the three warriors would simply result in the scattering of his own people and their being individually cut off and stricken down by circling swarms of their red foes. to gather his men and attempt to force the passage of the elk tooth ridge meant certain destruction of the whole command. the sioux would be only to glad to scurry away from their front and let them through, and then in big circle whirl all about him, pouring in a concentric fire that would be sure to hit some, at least, exposed as they would be on the open prairie, while their return shots, radiating wildly at the swift-darting warriors, would be almost as sure to miss. he would soon be weighted down with wounded, refusing to leave them to be butchered; unable, therefore, to move in any direction, and so compelled to keep up a shelterless, hopeless fight until, one by one, he and his gallant fellows fell, pierced by indian lead, and sacrificed to the scalping knife as were custer's three hundred a decade before. no, ray knew too much of frontier strategy to be so caught. there stood the little grove of dingy green, a prairie fortress, if one knew how to use it. there in the sand of the stream bed, by digging, were they sure to find water for the wounded, if wounded there had to be. there by the aid of a few hastily thrown intrenchments he could have a little plains fort and be ready to repel even an attack in force. horses could be herded in the depths of the sandy shallows. men could be distributed in big circle through the trees and along the bank; and, with abundant rations in their haversacks and water to be had for the digging, they could hold out like heroes until relief should come from the south. obviously, therefore, the cottonwood grove was the place, and thither at thundering charge field led the foremost line, while ray waved on the second, all hands cheering with glee at sight of the sioux darting wildly away up the northward slope. ten men in line, far extended, were sent right forward half way across the flats, ordered to drive the indians from the bottom and cripple as many as possible; but, if menaced by superior numbers, to fall back at the gallop, keeping well away from the front of the grove, so that the fire of its garrison might not be "masked." the ten had darted after the scurrying warriors, full half way to the beginning of the slope, and then, just as ray had predicted, down came a cloud of brilliant foemen, seeking to swallow the little ten alive. instantly their sergeant leader whirled them about and, pointing the way, led them in wide circle, horses well in hand, back to the dry wash, then down into its sandy depths. here every trooper sprang from saddle, and with the rein looped on the left arm, and from the shelter of the straight, stiff banks, opened sharp fire on their pursuers, just as clayton's platoon, dismounting at the grove, sprang to the nearest cover and joined in the fierce clamor of carbines. racing down the slope at top speed as were the sioux, they could not all at once check the way of their nimble mounts, and the ardor of the chase had carried them far down to the flats before the fierce crackle began. then it was thrilling to watch them, veering, circling, sweeping to right or left, ever at furious gallop, throwing their lithe, painted bodies behind their chargers' necks, clinging with one leg and arm, barely showing so much as an eyelid, yet yelping and screeching like so many coyotes, not one of their number coming within four hundred yards of the slender fighting line in the stream bed; some of them, indeed, disdaining to stoop, riding defiantly along the front, firing wildly as they rode, yet surely and gradually guiding their ponies back to the higher ground, back out of harm's way; and, in five minutes from the time they had flashed into view, coming charging over the mile away ridge, not a red warrior was left on the low ground,--only three or four luckless ponies, kicking in their last struggles or stiffening on the turf, while their riders, wounded or unhurt, had been picked up and spirited away with the marvellous skill only known to these warriors of the plains. then ray and his men had time to breathe and shout laughing comment and congratulation. not one, as yet, was hit or hurt. they were secure for the time in a strong position, and had signally whipped off the first assault of the sioux. loudly, excitedly, angrily these latter were now conferring again far up the slope to the north. at least an hundred in one concourse, they were having hot discussion over the untoward result of the dash. others, obedient to orders from the chief, were circling far out to east and west and crossing the valley above and below the position of the defence. others, still, were galloping back to the ridge, where, against the sky line, strong bodies of warriors could be plainly seen, moving excitedly to and fro. two little groups slowly making their way to the crest gave no little comfort to the boys in blue. some, at least, of the charging force had been made to feel the bite of the cavalry weapon, and were being borne to the rear. but no time was to be wasted. already from far up the stream bed two or three indians were hazarding long-range shots at the grove, and ray ordered all horses into a bend of the "wash," where the side lines were whipped from the blanket straps and the excited sorrels securely hoppled. then, here, there and in a score of places along the bank and again at the edge of the cottonwoods, men had been assigned their stations and bidden to find cover for themselves without delay. many burrowed in the soft and yielding soil, throwing the earth forward in front of them. others utilized fallen trees or branches. some two or three piled saddles and blanket rolls into a low barricade, and all, while crouching about their work, watched the feathered warriors as they steadily completed their big circle far out on the prairie. bullets came whistling now fast and frequently, nipping off leaves and twigs and causing many a fellow to duck instinctively and to look about him, ashamed of his dodge, yet sure of the fact that time had been in the days of the most hardened veteran of the troop when he, too, knew what it was to shrink from the whistle of hostile lead. it would be but a moment or two, they all understood, before the foe would decide on the next move; then every man would be needed. meantime, having stationed field on the north front, with orders to note every movement of the sioux, and having assigned clayton to the minor duty of watching the south front and the flanks, ray was moving cheerily among his men, speeding from cover to cover, suggesting here, helping there, alert, even joyous in manner. "we couldn't have a better roost, lads," he said. "we can stand off double their number easy. we can hold out a week if need be, but you bet the major will be reaching out after us before we're two days older. don't waste your shots. coax them close in. don't fire at a galloping indian beyond three hundred yards. it's waste of powder and lead." cheerily, joyously they answered him, these his comrades, his soldier children, men who had fought with him, many of their number, in a dozen fields, and men who would stand by him, their dark-eyed little captain, to the last. even the youngest trooper of the fifty seemed inspired by the easy, laughing confidence of the lighter hearts among their number, or the grim, matter of fact pugnacity of the older campaigners. it was significant, too, that the indians seemed so divided in mind as to the next move. there was loud wrangling and much disputation going on in that savage council to the north. stabber's braves and lame wolf's followers seemed bitterly at odds, for old hands in the fast-growing rifle pits pointed out on one side as many as half a dozen of the former's warriors whom they recognized and knew by sight, while ray, studying the shifting concourse through his glasses, could easily see stabber himself raging among them in violent altercation with a tall, superbly built and bedizened young brave, a sub-chief, apparently, who for his part, seemed giving stabber as good as he got. lame wolf was not in sight at all. he might still be far from the scene, and this tall warrior be acting as his representative. but whoever or whatever he was he had hearty following. more than three-fourths of the wrangling warriors in the group seemed backing him. ray, after a few words to sergeant winsor, crawled over beside his silent and absorbed young second in command, and, bringing his glasses to bear, gazed across a low parapet of sand long and fixedly at the turbulent throng a thousand yards away. "it's easy to make out stabber," he presently spoke. "one can almost hear that foghorn voice of his. but who the mischief is that red villain opposing him? i've seen every one of their chiefs in the last five years. all are men of forty or more. this fellow can't be a big chief. he looks long years younger than most of 'em, old lame wolf, for instance, yet he's cheeking stabber as if he owned the whole outfit." another long stare, then again--"who the mischief can he be?" no answer at his side, and ray, with the lenses still at his eyes, took no note for the moment that field remained so silent. out at the front the excitement increased. out through the veil of surging warriors, the loud-voiced, impetuous brave twice burst his way, and seemed at one and the same time, in his superb poise and gesturings, to be urging the entire body to join him in instant assault on the troops, and hurling taunt and anathema on the besieged. whoever he was, he was in a veritable fury. as many as half of the indians seemed utterly carried away by his fiery words, and with much shouting and gesticulation and brandishing of gun and lance, were yelling approbation of his views and urging stabber's people to join them. more furious language followed and much dashing about of excited ponies. "have you ever seen that fellow before?" demanded ray, of brown-eyed sergeant winsor, who had spent a lifetime on the plains, but winsor was plainly puzzled. "i can't say for the life of me, sir," was the answer. "i don't know him at all--and yet--" "whoever he is, by jove," said ray, "he's a bigger man this day than stabber, for he's winning the fight. now, if he only leads the dash as he does the debate, we can pick him off. who are our best shots on this front?" and eagerly he scanned the few faces near him. "webber's tiptop and good for anything under five hundred yards when he isn't excited, and stoltz, he's a keen, cool one. no! not you, hogan," laughed the commander, as a freckled faced veteran popped his head up over a nearby parapet of sand, and grinned his desire to be included. "i've never seen the time you could hit what you aimed at. slip out of that hole and find webber and tell him to come here--and you take his burrow." whereupon hogan, grinning rueful acquiescence in his commander's criticism, slid backwards into the stream bed and, followed by the chaff of the three or four comrades near enough to catch the words, went crouching from post to post in search of the desired marksman. "you used to be pretty sure with the carbine in the tonto basin when we were after apaches, sergeant," continued ray, again peering through the glasses. "i'm mistaken in this fellow if he doesn't ride well within range, and we must make an example of him. i want four first class shots to single him out." "the lieutenant can beat the best i ever did, sir," said winsor, with a lift of the hand toward the hat brim, as though in apology, for field, silent throughout the brief conference, had half risen on his hands and knees and was edging over to the left, apparently seeking to reach the shelter of a little hummock close to the bank. "why, surely, field," was the quick reply, as ray turned toward his junior. "that will make it complete." [illustration: "with one magnificent red arm uplifted."] but a frantic burst of yells and war whoops out at the front put sudden stop to the words. the throng of warriors that had pressed so close about stabber and the opposing orator seemed all in an instant to split asunder, and with trailing war bonnet and followed by only two or three of his braves, the former lashed his way westward and swept angrily out of the ruck and went circling away toward the crest, while, with loud acclamation, brandishing shield and lance and rifle in superb barbaric tableau, the warriors lined up in front of the victorious young leader who, sitting high in his stirrups, with one magnificent red arm uplifted, began shouting in the sonorous tongue of the sioux some urgent instructions. down from the distant crest came other braves as though to meet and ask stabber explanation of his strange quitting the field. down came a dozen others, young braves mad for battle, eager to join the ranks of this new leader, and ray, who had turned on field once more, fixed his glasses on that stalwart, nearly stark naked, brilliantly painted form, foremost of the indian array and now at last in full and unimpeded view. "by the gods of war!" he cried. "i never saw that scoundrel before, but if it isn't that renegade red fox--why, here, field! take my glass and look. you were with the commissioners' escort last year at the black hills council. you must have seen him and heard him speak. isn't this red fox himself?" and to ray's surprise the young officer's eyes were averted, his face pale and troubled, and the answer was a mere mumble--"i didn't meet fox--there, captain." he never seemed to see the glass held out to him until ray almost thrust it into his hand and then persisted with his inquiry. "look at him anyhow. you may have seen him somewhere. isn't that red fox?" and now ray was gazing straight at field's half hidden face. field, the soul of frankness hitherto, the lad who was never known to flinch from the eyes of any man, but to answer such challenge with his own,--brave, fearless, sometimes even defiant. now he kept the big binocular fixed on the distant hostile array, but his face was white, his hand unsteady and his answer, when it came, was in a voice that ray heard in mingled pain and wonderment. could it be that the lad was unnerved by the sight? in any event, he seemed utterly unlike himself. "i--cannot say, sir. it was dark--or night at all events,--the only time i ever heard him." chapter xii the ordeal by fire that action had been resolved upon, and prompt action, was now apparent. stabber, fighting chief though he had been in the past, had had his reason for opposing the plans of this new and vehement leader; but public sentiment, stirred by vehement oratory, had overruled him, and he had bolted the field convention in a fury. lame wolf, a younger chief than stabber, had yet more power among the ogalallas, being red cloud's favorite nephew, and among the indians at least, his acknowledged representative. whenever called to account, however, for that nephew's deeds, the wary old statesman promptly disavowed them. it was in search of lame wolf, reasoned ray, that stabber had sped away, possibly hoping to induce him to call off his followers. it was probably the deeper strategy of stabber to oppose no obstacle to ray's advance until the little troop was beyond the elk tooth ridge, where, on utterly shelterless ground, the indian would have every advantage. he knew ray of old; knew well that, left to himself, the captain would push on in the effort to rescue the stage people and he and his command might practically be at the mercy of the sioux, if only the sioux would listen and be patient. stabber knew that to attack the troopers now entrenching at the cottonwoods meant a desperate fight in which the indians, even if ultimately triumphant, must lose many a valued brave, and that is not the thoroughbred indian's view of good generalship. stabber was old, wily and wise. the new chief, whoever he might be, seemed possessed of a mad lust for instant battle, coupled with a possible fear that, unless the golden moment were seized, ray might be reinforced and could then defy them all. indeed there were veteran campaigners among the troopers who noted how often the tall red chief pointed in sweeping gesture back to moccasin ridge--troopers who even at the distance caught and interpreted a few of his words. "that's it, sir," said winsor, confidently to ray. "he says 'more soldiers coming,' and--i believe he knows." at all events he had so convinced his fellows and, even before stabber reached the middle tooth--where sat a little knot of mounted indians, signalling apparently to others still some distance to the north,--with a chorus of exultant yells, the long, gaudy, glittering line of braves suddenly scattered and, lashing away to right and left, dozens of them darted at top speed to join those already disposed about that big circle, while others still, the main body, probably seventy strong, after some barbaric show of circus evolutions about their leader, once more reined up for some final injunctions from his lips. then, with a magnificent gesture of the hand, he waved them on and, accompanied by only two young riders, rode swiftly away to a little swell of the prairie just out of range of the carbines, and there took his station to supervise the attack. "damn him!" growled old winsor. "he's no charger like crazy horse. he's a sitting bull breed of general--like some we had in virginia," he added, between his set teeth, but ray heard and grinned in silent appreciation. "set your sights and give 'em their first volley as they reach that scorched line," he called to the men along the northward front, and pointed to a stretch of prairie where the dry grass had lately been burned away. "five hundred yards will do it. then aim low when they rush closer in." "look at the middle tooth, captain," came the sudden hail from his left. "mirror flashes! see!" it was field who spoke, and life and vim had returned to his voice and color to his face. he was pointing eagerly toward the highest of the knobs, where, all on a sudden, dazzling little beams of light shot forth toward the indians in the lowlands, tipping the war bonnet and lance of many a brave with dancing fire. whatever their purport, the signals seemed ignored by the sioux, for presently two riders came sweeping down the long slope, straight for the point where sat red fox, as, for want of other name, we must for the present call him--who, for his part, shading his eyes with his hand, sat gazing toward the westward side of his warrior circle, evidently awaiting some demonstration there before giving signal for action elsewhere. obedient to his first instructions, the main body had spread out in long, irregular skirmish rank, their mettlesome ponies capering and dancing in their eagerness. chanting in chorus some shrill, weird song, the line was now slowly, steadily advancing, still too far away to warrant the wasting of a shot, yet unmistakably seeking to close as much as possible before bursting in with the final charge. [illustration: "some few of their number borne away by their comrades."] and still the red leader sat at gaze, oblivious for the moment of everything around him, ignoring the coming of orders possibly from lame wolf himself. suddenly the silver armlets once more gleamed on high. then, clapping the palm of his right hand to his mouth, red fox gave voice to a ringing war whoop, fierce, savage and exultant, and, almost at the instant, like the boom and rumble that follows some vivid lightning flash, the prairie woke and trembled to the thunder of near a thousand hoofs. from every point of the compass--from every side, yelling like fiends of some orthodox hell, down they came--the wild warriors of the frontier in furious rush upon the silent and almost peaceful covert of this little band of brothers in the dusty garb of blue. one, two, three hundred yards they came, centering on the leafy clump of cottonwoods, riding at tearing gallop, erect, defiant, daring at the start, and giving full voice to their wild war cry. then bending forward, then crouching low, then flattening out like hunted squirrel, for as the foremost in the dash came thundering on within good carbine range, all on a sudden the watch dogs of the little plains fort began to bark. tiny jets of flame and smoke shot from the level of the prairie, from over dingy mounds of sand, from behind the trunks of stunted trees, from low parapet of log or leather. then the entire grove seemed veiling itself in a drifting film of blue, the whole charging circle to crown itself with a dun cloud of dust that swept eastward over the prairie, driven by the stiff, unhampered breeze. the welkin rang with savage yell, with answering cheer, with the sputter and crackle of rifle and revolver, the loud bellow of springfield, and then, still yelping, the feathered riders veered and circled, ever at magnificent speed, each man for himself, apparently, yet all guided and controlled by some unseen, yet acknowledged, power; and, in five minutes, save where some hapless pony lay quivering and kicking on the turf, the low ground close at hand was swept clean of horse or man. the wild attack had been made in vain. the sioux were scampering back, convinced, but not discomfited. some few of their number, borne away stunned and bleeding by comrade hands from underneath their stricken chargers,--some three or four, perhaps, who had dared too much,--were now closing their eyes on the last fight of their savage lives. to ray and to many of his men it was all an old story. stabber would never have counselled or permitted attack on seasoned troopers, fighting behind even improvised shelter. something, perhaps, had occurred to blind his younger rival to the peril of such assault, and now, as three or four little parties were seen slowly drifting away toward the ridge, burdened by some helpless form, other couriers came thundering down at red fox, and wild excitement prevailed among the elk teeth. more signals were flashing. more indians came popping into view, their feathered bonnets streaming in the rising wind, and about the prairie wave, where the savage general had established field headquarters, a furious conference was going on. stabber had again interposed, and with grim but hopeful eyes, ray and his fellows watched and noted. every lull in the fight was so much gain for them. "twelve fifty-two," said the dark-eyed commander, swinging his watch into the pocket of his hunting shirt, and sliding backward into the stream bed. "all serene so far. watch things on this front, field, while i make the rounds and see how we came out." "all serene so far" it was! not a man hurt. two of the sorrels had been hit by flying bullets and much amazed and stung thereat, but neither was crippled. bidding their guards to dig for water that might soon be needed, ray once more made his way to the northward side and rejoined field and winsor. in an almost cloudless sky of steely blue the sun had just passed the meridian and was streaming hotly down on the stirring picture. northward the ridge line and the long, gradual slope seemed alive with swarms of indian warriors, many of them darting about in wild commotion. about the little eminence where stabber and the fox had again locked horns in violent altercation, as many as a hundred braves had gathered. about the middle knob, from whose summit mirror flashes shot from time to time, was still another concourse, listening, apparently, to the admonitions of a leader but recently arrived, a chieftain mounted on an american horse, almost black, and ray studied the pair long and curiously through his glasses. "lame wolf, probably," said he, but the distance was too great to enable him to be certain. what puzzled him more than anything was the apparent division of authority, the unusual display of discord among the sioux. these were all, doubtless, of the ogalalla tribe, red cloud's own people, yet here were they wrangling like ward "heelers" and wasting precious time. whatever his antecedents this new comer had been a powerful sower of strife and sedition, for, instead of following implicitly the counsels of one leader, the indians were divided now between three. true to its practice, the prairie wind was sweeping stronger and stronger with every moment, as the sun-warmed strata over the wide, billowing surface sought higher levels, and the denser, cooler current from the west came rushing down. and now all sounds of the debate were whisked away toward the breaks of the south shyenne,[*] and it was no longer possible for old sioux campaigners to catch a word of the discussion. the leaves of the cottonwoods whistled in the rising gale, and every time a pony crossed the stream bed and clambered the steep banks out to the west, little clouds of dun-colored dust came sailing toward the grove, scattered and spent, however, far from the lair of the defence. [* oddly enough, that method of spelling the river's name became official.] but, while the discussion seemed endless among the indians on the northward side, never for a moment was the vigilance of the circle relaxed. south, east and west the slopes and lowlands were dotted with restless horsemen, and from young clayton came the word that through his glass he could make out three or four warriors far away toward the moccasin ridge. "that's good," said ray. "it means they, too, are looking for a column coming out from frayne. but where on earth did all these rascals come from? there must be four hundred now in sight." well might he ask and marvel! stabber's little village had never more than fifty warriors. lame wolf's band was counted at less than two hundred and forty fighting men, and these, so said the agents of the omniscient bureau, were all the ogalallas away from the shelter of the reservation when the trouble started. no more should be allowed to go, was the confident promise, yet a fortnight nearly had elapsed since the frontier fun began. news of battle sweeps with marvellous speed through indian haunted lands, and here were warriors by the score, come to strengthen the hands of kindred in the field, and, more were coming. the mirror signals plainly told them that. yet it was now well nigh one o'clock and not another hostile move was made. fox then was being held by stronger hands. it meant that lame wolf had listened to reason,--and stabber, and would permit no fresh attack until his numbers should be so increased that resistance would practically be vain. it meant even more--that the indian leader in chief command felt sure no force was yet within helping distance of the corralled troopers. he could, therefore, take his time. but this was a theory ray would not whisper to his men. he knew webb. he knew webb would soon read the signs from the north and be coming to his relief, and ray was right. even as he reasoned there came a message from across the grove. lieutenant clayton said the indians he had seen away to the south were racing back. "thank god!" was the murmured answer no man heard. "now, lads, be ready!" was the ringing word that roused the little troop, like bugle call "to arms." and even as eager faces lifted over the low parapets to scan the distant foe, fresh signals came flashing down from the northward ridge, fresh bands of warriors came darting to join the martial throng about the still wrangling chieftains, and then, all on a sudden, with mighty yelling and shrill commotion, that savage council burst asunder, and, riding at speed, a dozen braves went lashing away to the westward side, while with fierce brandishing of arms and shields and much curveting and prancing of excited ponies, the wild battle lines were formed again. the sioux were coming for the second trial. "meet them as before! make every shot tell!" were the orders passed from man to man and heard and noted amidst the whistling of the wind and the sounds of scurry and commotion at the front. then, silent and crouching low, the soldiers shoved the brown barrels of their carbines forth again and waited. and then the grim silence of the little fortress was broken, as, with startling, sudden force there went up a shout from the westward side:-- "my god, boys, they're setting fire to the prairie!" ray sprang to his feet and gazed. away out to the west and southwest, whence came the strong breeze blowing from the sweetwater hills, half a dozen dark, agile forms, bending low, were scudding afoot over the sward, and everywhere they moved there sprang up in their tracks little sheets of lambent flame, little clouds of bluish, blinding smoke, and almost in less time than it takes to tell it, a low wall of fire, started in a dozen places, reaching far across the low ground, fencing the valley from stream bed to the southward slopes, crowned by its swift-sailing crest of hot, stifling fume, came lapping and seething and sweeping across the level, licking up the dry buffalo grass like so much tow, mounting higher and fiercer with every second, and bearing down upon the little grove and its almost helpless defenders in fearful force, in resistless fury--a charge no bullet could stop, an enemy no human valor could hope to daunt or down. "quick, men!" yelled ray. "out with you, you on the west front! stay you here, you others! watch the sioux! they'll be on us in an instant!" and away he sped from the shelter of the bank, out from the thick of the cottonwoods, out to the open prairie, straight toward the coming torrent of flame still, thank god, full seven hundred yards away, but leaping toward them with awful strides. out with him rushed field, and out from clayton's front sped half a dozen old hands, every man fumbling for his match box; out until they had reached a line with their captain, already sprawled upon the turf, and there, full an hundred yards from the grove, they spread in rude skirmish line and, reckless of the mad chorus of yells that came sweeping down the wind, reckless of the clamor of the coming charge, reckless of the whistling lead that almost instantly began nipping and biting the turf about them, here, there and everywhere, they, too, had started little fires; they, too had run their line of flame across the windward front; they, too, had launched a wall of flame sailing toward the grove, and then, back through blinding smoke they ran for their saddle blankets, just as the sharp sputter of shots burst forth on the northward side, and the sioux, with magnificent dash, came thundering within range. then followed a thrilling battle for life--two red enemies now enrolled against the blue. "fight fire with fire" is the old rule of the prairie. ray had promptly met the on-coming sweep of the torrent by starting a smaller blaze that should at least clear the surface close at hand, and, by eating off the fuel, stop, possibly, the progress of the greater flame. but the minor blaze had also to be stopped lest it come snapping and devouring within the grove. it is no easy matter to check a prairie fire against a prairie gale when every human aid is summoned. it is desperate work to try to check one when to the fires of nature are added the furious blaze of hostile arms, every rifle sighted by savage, vengeful foe. "check it, lads, ten yards out!" shouted ray, to his gallant fellows, now lost in the smoke, while he again rushed across the front to meet the charging sioux. with his brave young face all grime, field was already at work, guiding, urging, aiding his little band. "both hands! both hands!" he cried, as, wielding his folded blanket, he smote the fringe of flame. "stamp it out! great god! wing, are you hit?" for answer the sergeant by his side went plunging down, face foremost, and little trooper denny, rushing to aid his young officer in the effort to raise the stricken man, as suddenly loosed his hold and, together again, these two sworn comrades of many a campaign lay side by side, as they had lain in camp and bivouac all over the wide frontier, and poor denny could only gasp a loyal word of warning to his officer. "get back, sir; for god's sake, get back!" ere the life blood came gushing from his mouth. bending low, field grabbed the faithful fellow in his strong arms and, calling to the nearmost men to look to wing, bore his helpless burden back through stifling smoke clouds; laid him on the turf at the foot of a cottonwood, then ran again to the perilous work of fighting the flame, stumbling midway over another prostrate form. "both hands! both hands!" he yelled as again his blanket whirled in air; and so, by dint of desperate work, the inner line of flame at last was stayed, but every man of the gallant little squad of fire fighters had paid the penalty of his devotion and felt the sting of hissing lead--field the last of all. westward now, well nigh an hundred yards in width, a broad, black, smoking patch stretched across the pathway of the swift-coming wall of smoke and flame, a safeguard to the beleaguered command worth all the soldier sacrifice it cost. in grand and furious sweep, the scourge of the prairie sent its destroying line across the wide level to the south of the sheltering grove, but in the blood and sweat of heroic men the threatening flames of the windward side had sputtered out. the little garrison was safe from one, at least, of its dread and merciless foes, though five of its best and bravest lay dead or dying, and others still sore stricken, in the midst of the smoking grove. "field, old boy," said ray, with brimming eyes, as he knelt and clasped the hand of the bleeding lad, while the sioux fell back in wrath and dismay from the low-aimed, vengeful fire of the fighting line. "this means the medal of honor for you, if word of mine can fetch it!" chapter xiii wounded--body and soul to say the sioux were furious at the failure of their second attempt would be putting it far too mildly. the fierce charge from the northward side, made under cover of the blinding smoke sent drifting by the gale across the level flats, had been pushed so close to the grove that two red braves and half a dozen ponies had met their death within sixty paces of the rifle pits. there lay the bodies now, and the indians dare not attempt to reach them. the dread, wind-driven flame of the prairie fire, planned by the sioux to burn out the defence, to serve as their ally, had been turned to their grave detriment. ray and his devoted men had stopped the sweep of so much of the conflagration as threatened their little stronghold, but, ranging unhampered elsewhere, the seething wall rolled on toward the east, spreading gradually toward its flanks, and so, not only consuming vast acres of bunch grass, but checking the attack that should have been made from the entire southern half of the indian circle. later, leaping the sandy stream bed a little to the west of the cottonwoods, it spread in wild career over a huge tract along the left bank, and now, reuniting with the southern wing some distance down the valley, was roaring away to the bluffs of the mini pusa, leaving death and desolation in its track. miles to the east the war parties from the reservation, riding to join lame wolf, sighted the black curtain of smoke, swift sailing over the prairie, and changed their course accordingly. not so many miles away to the south webb's skirmishers, driving before them three or four sioux scouts from the northward slope of the moccasin ridge, set spurs to their horses and took the gallop, the main body following on. with their eyelids blistered by heat and smoke, ray's silent, determined little band could see nothing of the coming force, yet knew relief was nigh; for, close at hand, both east and west, large bodies of the enemy could be seen swift riding away to the north. they had hoped, as "fox" had planned and promised, to burn out and overwhelm the little troop at the grove before the column from frayne could possibly reach the spot. they had even anticipated the probable effort of the command to check the flames, and had told off some fifty braves to open concentric fire on any party that should rush into the open with that object in view. they had thought to send in such a storm of lead, even from long range, that it should daunt and drive back those who had dared the attempt. they had stormed indeed, but could neither daunt nor drive back. ray's men had braved death itself in the desperate essay, and, even in dying, had won the day. but their losses had been cruel. three killed outright; three dying and eight more or less severely wounded had reduced their fighting strength to nearly thirty. the guards of the sorrels, herded in the stream bed, had all they could do to control the poor, frightened creatures, many of them hit, several of them felled, by the plunging fire from the far hillsides. even though driven back, the sioux never meant to give up the battle. on every side, leaving their ponies at safe distance, by dozens the warriors crawled forward, snake-like, to the edge of the burned and blackened surface, and from there poured in a rapid and most harassing fire, compelling the defence to lie flat or burrow further, and wounding many horses. the half hour that followed the repulse of their grand assault had been sorely trying to the troop, for the wounded needed aid, more men were hit, and there was no chance whatever to hit back. moving from point to point, ray carried cheer and courage on every side, yet was so constantly exposed as to cause his men fresh anxiety. even as he was bending over field a bullet had nipped the right shoulderstrap, and later another had torn through the crown of his campaign hat. in all the years of their frontier fighting they had never known a hotter fire; but ray's voice rang out through the drifting vapor with the same old cheer and confidence. "they can't charge again till the ground cools off," he cried. "by that time they'll have their hands full. see how they're scudding away at the southward even now. just keep covered and you're all right." and, barring a growl or two from favored old hands who sought to make the captain take his own medicine and himself keep covered, the answer was full of cheer. and so they waited through the hot smoke and sunshine of the autumn afternoon, and, even while comforting the wounded with assurance of coming relief, kept vigilant watch on every hostile move, and at last, toward three o'clock, the sharp fire about them slackened away, the smouldering roots of the bunch grass had burned themselves out. the smoke drifted away from the prairie, and, as the landscape cleared to the south and west, a cheer of delight went up from the cottonwoods, for the slopes three miles away were dotted here and there and everywhere with circling, scurrying war ponies--they and their wild riders steadily falling back before a long rank of disciplined horsemen, the extended skirmish line of webb's squadron, backed by supports at regular intervals, and all heading straight on for the broad lowlands of the elk. "send six of your men over to the south front, sergeant," were ray's orders to winsor, as he hurried over to join clayton again. "they may try one final charge from that side, and give us a chance to empty a few more saddles." creeping and crouching through the timber the chosen men obeyed, and were assigned to stations under clayton's eye. the precaution was wise indeed, for, just as the captain foresaw, a rally in force began far out over the southward slopes, the indians gathering in great numbers about some chieftain midway between the coming force and the still beleaguered defenders of the grove. then, brandishing lance and shield and rifle, as before, they began spreading out across the prairie, heading now for the cottonwoods, while others still faced and fired on the far blue skirmish line. the fierce wind, sweeping across the direction of the attack, deadened all sound of hoof or war chant, but there was no mistaking the signs, no doubt of the intent, when, in a little moment more, the earth began to tremble beneath the dancing pony feet, telling, almost with the swiftness of sight, that the grand advance had again begun. but other eyes were watching too. other soldiers, keen campaigners as these at the elk, were there afield, and almost at the moment the wild barbaric horde burst yelling into their eager gallop, and before the dust cloud hid the distant slopes beyond, the exultant shout went up from the captain's lips, as he threw down his glass and grabbed his carbine. "it's all right, men! the major's coming at their heels. now let 'em have it!" in former days there had been scenes of wild rejoicing, sometimes of deep emotion, when relief came to some indian-besieged detachment of the old regiment. once, far to the south in the wild, romantic park country of colorado, a strong detachment had been corralled for days by an overwhelming force of utes. their commander,--a dozen of their best men,--all the horses killed and many troopers sorely wounded. they had been rescued at last by their skilled and gallant colonel, after a long and most scientific march by both night and day. another time, still farther in their past, and yet within a dozen years, away down the broad valley of the very stream of which this little elk was a tributary, the cheyennes had hemmed in and sorely hammered two depleted troops that owed their ultimate rescue to the daring of the very officer who so coolly, confidently headed the defence this day--to a night ride through the indian lines that nearly cost him his brave young life, but that brought captain truscott with a fresh and powerful troop sweeping in to their succor with the dawn. then there had been men who strained other men to their hearts and who shed tears like women, for gallant comrades had bitten the dust in the desperate fighting of the day before, and hope itself had almost gone--with the ammunition of the beleaguered command. now, with heavier losses than had befallen wayne in ' , ray's command beheld with almost tranquil hearts the coming of the fierce array in final charge. behind them, not two miles, to be sure, rode in swift, well-ordered pursuit the long line of comrade troopers. but there had been intervening years of campaign experiences that dulled to a degree the earlier enthusiasms of the soldier, and taught at least the assumption of professional composure that was the secret wonder of the suckling trooper, and that became his chief ambition to acquire. it is one thing to charge home at a hard-fighting command when friends and comrades back the effort and cheer the charging line. it is another to charge home conscious that other chargers are coming at one's heels. magnificent as a spectacle, therefore, this closing dash of lame wolf's warriors was but a meek reminder of their earlier attack. long before they came within four hundred yards of the leafy stronghold,--the moment, indeed, the brown springfields began their spiteful bark,--to right and left the warriors veered, far out on either flank. screeching and yelling as was their savage way, they tore madly by, flattened out against their ponies' necks and, those who could use their arms at all, pumping wild shots that whistled harmless over the heads of the defenders and bit the blackened prairie many a rod beyond. only jeers rewarded the stirring spectacle,--jeers and a few low-aimed, sputtering volleys that brought other luckless ponies to their knees and sprawled a few red riders. but in less than five minutes from the warning cry that hailed their coming, lame wolf and his hosts were lining elk tooth ridge and watching with burning hate and vengeful eyes the swift, steady advance of webb's long blue fighting line, and the utter unconcern of the defence. even before the relieving squadron was within carbine range certain of ray's men had scrambled out upon the northward bank and, pushing forward upon the prairie, were possessing themselves of the arms and ornaments of the two dead warriors whom the sioux had strived in vain to reach and bear within their lines. ray and clayton at the moment were strolling placidly forth upon the southward "bench" to receive and welcome the little knot of comrades sent galloping in advance to greet them. there was perhaps just a suspicion of exaggerated nonchalance about their gait and bearing--a regimental weakness, possibly--and no other officer save lieutenant field happened to be within earshot when winsor's voice on the other front was heard in hoarse command: "come back there, you fellows! back or you're goners!" the sight had proved too much for some of the sioux. down again at furious speed came a scattered cloud of young braves, following the lead of the tall, magnificent chief who had been the hero of the earlier attack,--down into the low ground, never swerving or checking pace, straight for the grove, the three or four inquisitive blue-coats in the meantime scurrying for shelter; and the yell that went up at sight of the indian dash and the quick reopening of the sputtering fire brought ray, running once again to the northward edge of the timber, wondering what could be amiss. field was lying on his blanket, just under the bank, as the captain darted by, and grinned his gratification as he heard the brief, assuring words: "webb's here--all hands with him." an instant later a bullet whizzed through the roots of the old cottonwood above his head, and from far out afield, deadened by the rush of the wind, a dull crackle of shots told that something had recalled the sioux to the attack, and for three minutes there was a lively fusillade all along the northward side. then it slowly died away, and other voices, close at hand,--someone speaking his name,--called the lad's attention. he was weak from loss of blood, and just a little dazed and flighty. he had meant three hours agone that when next he encountered his post commander his manner should plainly show that senior that even a second lieutenant had rights a major was bound to respect. but, only mistily now, he saw bending over him the keen, soldierly features,--the kind, winsome gray eyes, filled with such a world of concern and sympathy,--and heard the deep, earnest tones of the voice he knew so well, calling again his name and mingling cordial praise and anxious inquiry, and all the rancor seemed to float away with the smoke of the last carbine shots. he could only faintly return the pressure of that firm, muscular hand, only feebly smile his thanks and reassurance, and then he, too, seemed floating away somewhere into space, and he could not manage to connect what webb had been saying with the next words that fastened on his truant senses. it must have been hours later, too, for darkness had settled on the valley. a little fire was burning under the shelter of the bank. a little group of soldiers were chatting in low tone, close at hand. among them, his arm in a sling, stood a stocky little chap whose face, seen in the flickering light, was familiar to him. so was the eager brogue in which that little chap was speaking. a steward was remonstrating, and only vaguely at first, field grasped the meaning of his words:-- "the captain said you were not to try to follow, kennedy, at least not until dr. waller saw you. wait till he gets here. he can't be three miles back now." "to hell wid ye!" was the vehement answer. "d'ye think i'd be maundherin' here wid the whole command gone on afther thim bloody sioux. i've made my mark on wan o' thim, an' he's the buck i'm afther." "he's made his mark on _you_, kennedy," broke in a soldier voice. "you mad fool, trying to tackle a chief like that--even if he was hit, for he had his whole gang behind him." "sure he dared me out, an'--what's this he called me? a d----d whiskey thafe!--me that niver----" "oh, shut up, kennedy," laughed a brother irishman. "you were full as a goat at 'k' troop's stables--where'd ye get the whiskey if----" "i'll lay you, lanigan, when i get two hands agin, though i misdoubt wan would do it. it's me horse i want now and lave to go on wid the capt'n. ready now, sir," he added, with sudden change of tone and manner, for a tall, slender form came striding into the fire light, and field knew blake at the instant, and would have called but for the first word from the captain's lips. "_your_ heart's safe, kennedy. i wish your head was. your past master in blasphemy out there won't eat it, at all events." "did ye get him, sorr,--afther all?" "_i_ didn't. his english spoiled my aim. 'twas winsor shot him. now, you're to stay here, you and kilmaine. the doctor may bring despatches, and you follow us with the first to come." an orderly had led forth a saddled horse, and blake's foot was already in the stirrup. "they say it was red fox himself, kennedy," he added. "where on earth did you meet him before?" "shure, _i_ niver knew him, sorr," was the quick reply, as blake's long, lean leg swung over the big charger's back and the rider settled in saddle. "but he knew _you_ perfectly well. he dared you by name, when we closed on them--you and mr. field." and when an hour later the veteran surgeon came and knelt by the side of the young officer reported seriously wounded, and took his hand and felt his pulse, there was something in the situation that seemed to call for immediate action. "we'll get you back to frayne to-morrow, field," said waller, with kind intent. "don't--worry now." "don't do that, doctor," feebly, surprisingly moaned the fevered lad. "don't take me back to frayne!" chapter xiv a vanished heroine within forty-eight hours of the coming of trooper kennedy with his "rush" despatches to fort frayne, the actors in our little drama had become widely separated. webb and his sturdy squadron, including ray and such of his troop as still had mounts and no serious wounds, were marching straight on for the dry fork of the powder. they were two hundred fighting men; and, although the sioux had now three times that many, they had learned too much of the shooting powers of these seasoned troopers, and deemed it wise to avoid close contact. the indian fights well, man for man, when fairly cornered, but at other times he is no true sportsman. he asks for odds of ten to one, as when he wiped out custer on the "greasy grass," or fetteman at fort phil kearny,--as when he tackled the gray fox,--general crook--on the rosebud, and sibley's little party among the pines of the big horn. ray's plucky followers had shot viciously and emptied far too many saddles for indian equanimity. it might be well in any event to let webb's squadron through and wait for further accessions from the agencies at the southeast, or the big, turbulent bands of uncapapas and minneconjous at standing rock, or the cheyennes along the yellowstone. so back went lame wolf and his braves, bearing stabber with them, flitting northward again toward the glorious country beyond the "chakadee," and on went webb, with blake, gregg, ray and their juniors, with tracy to take care of such as might be wounded on the way; and, later still, the old post surgeon reached the elk with guards and hospital attendants, and on the morrow row began his homeward march with the dead and wounded,--a sad and solemn little procession. only twenty miles he had to go, but it took long hours, so few were the ambulances, so rough the crossings of the ravines; and, not until near nightfall was the last of the wounded,--lieutenant field,--borne in the arms of pitying soldiers into the old post hospital, too far gone with fever, exhaustion and some strong mental excitement to know or care that his strange plea had been, perforce, disregarded;--to know or care later that the general himself, the commander they loved and trusted, was bending over him at dawn the following day. ordering forward all available troops from the line of the railway, "the chief" had stopped at laramie only long enough for brief conference with the post commander; then, bidding him come on with all his cavalry, had pushed ahead for frayne. it couldn't be a long campaign, perhaps, with winter close at hand, but it would be a lively one. of that the chief felt well assured. now, there was something uncanny about this outbreak on the part of the sioux, and the general was puzzled. up to september the indians had been busy with the annual hunt. they were fat, well-fed, prosperous,--had got from the government pretty much everything that they could ask with any show of reason and, so they said, had been promised more. the rows between the limited few of their young men and some bullies among the "rustlers" had been no more frequent nor serious than on previous summers, when matters had been settled without resort to arms; but this year the very devil seemed to have got into the situation. something, or probably somebody, said the general, had been stirring the indians up, exciting--exhorting possibly, and almost the first thing the general did as he climbed stiffly out of his stout concord wagon, in the paling starlight of the early morning, was to turn to dade, now commanding the post, and to say he should like, as soon as possible, to see bill hay. meantime he wished to go in and look at the wounded. it was not yet five o'clock, but dr. waller was up and devoting himself to the needs of his patients, and dade had coffee ready for the general and his single aide-de-camp, but not a sip would the general take until he had seen the stricken troopers. he knew field by reputation, well and favorably. he had intimately known field's father in the old days, in the old army, when they served together on the then wild pacific shores "where rolls the oregon." the great civil war had divided them, for field had cast his soldier fortune with his seceding state, but all that was a thing of the past. here was the son, a loyal soldier of the flag the father had again sworn allegiance to when he took his seat in the house of representatives. the general thought highly of field, and was sore troubled at his serious condition. he knew what despatches would be coming from the far south when the telegraph line began the busy clicking of the morning. he was troubled to find the lad in high fever and to hear that he had been out of his head. he was more than troubled at the concern, and something like confusion, in the old doctor's face. "you don't think him dangerously wounded, do you?" he asked. "not dangerously, general," was the reply. "it's--well, he seems to have something on his mind." and more than this the doctor would not say. it was not for him to tell the chief what webb had confided ere he left the post--that most of the currency for which field was accountable was so much waste paper. field lay muttering and tossing in restless misery, unconscious most of the time, and sleeping only when under the influence of a strong narcotic. dade, with sadness and constraint apparent in his manner, hung back and did not enter the bare hospital room where, with only a steward in attendance, the young soldier lay. the doctor had gone with the general to the bedside, but the captain remained out of earshot at the door. first call for reveillé was just sounding on the infantry bugles as the trio came forth. "i have sent for hay already, general," dade was saying, as they stood on the wooden veranda overlooking the valley of the murmuring river; "but will you not come now and have coffee? he can join us over at my quarters." already, however, the orderly was hurrying back. they met him when not half way over to the line of officers' quarters. the few men for duty in the two companies of infantry, left to guard the post, were gathering in little groups in front of their barracks, awaiting the sounding of the assembly. they knew the chief at a glance, and were curiously watching him as he went thoughtfully pacing across the parade by the side of the temporary commander. they saw the orderly coming almost at a run from the direction of the guard-house, saw him halt and salute, evidently making some report, but they could not guess what made him so suddenly start and run at speed toward the southward bluff, the direction of the trader's corral and stables, while captain dade whirled about and signalled sergeant crabb, of the cavalry, left behind in charge of the few custodians of the troop barracks. crabb, too, threw dignity to the winds, and ran at the beck of his superior officer. "have you two men who can ride hard a dozen miles or so--and carry out their orders?" was the captain's sharp demand. "certainly, sir," answered crabb, professionally resentful that such question should be asked of men of the ----th cavalry. "send two to report to me at once, mounted. never mind breakfast." and by this time, apparently, the chief, the post commander and possibly even the aide-de-camp had forgotten about the waiting coffee. they still stood there where they had halted in the centre of the parade. the doctor, coming from hospital, was signalled to and speedily joined them. the bugle sounded, the men mechanically formed ranks and answered to their names, all the while watching from the corner of their eyes the group of officers, now increased by two infantry subalterns, lieutenants bruce and duncan, who raised their caps to the preoccupied general, such salutation being then a fashion, not a regulation of the service, and stood silently awaiting instructions, for something of consequence was surely at hand. then the orderly again appeared, returning from his mission, out of breath and speaking with difficulty. "craps--i mean the frenchman, sir, says it was after four, perhaps half past, when they started, pete drivin'. he didn't see who was in it. 'twas the covered buckboard he took, sir--the best one." and then, little by little, it transpired that hay, the post trader whom the general had need to see, had taken his departure by way of the rawlins road, and without so much as a whisper of his purpose to any one. "i knew he had thought of going. he told major webb so," said dade, presently. "but that was before the outbreak assumed proportions. he had given up all idea of it yesterday and so told me." "has anything happened to--start him since then?" demanded the bearded general, after a moment's thought. dade and the doctor looked into each other's eyes, and the latter turned away. it was not his affair. "w-ell, something has happened, general," was dade's slow, constrained reply. "if you will step this way--i'll see you later, gentlemen--" this to his subalterns--"i'll explain as far as i can." and while dr. waller fell back and walked beside the aide-de-camp, gladly leaving to the post commander the burden of a trying explanation, the general, slowly pacing by the captain's side, gave ear to his story. "hay cleaned up quite a lot of money," began the veteran, "and had intended starting it to cheyenne when this indian trouble broke out. the courier reached us during the night, as you know, and the major ordered ray to start at dawn and field to go with him." "why, i thought field was post adjutant!" interposed the general. "he was, but--well--i beg you to let major webb give you his own reasons, general," faltered dade, sorely embarrassed. "he decided that field should go----" "he _asked_ to go, i suppose--it runs in the blood," said the general, quickly, with a keen look from his blue-gray eyes. "i think not, sir; but you will see webb within a few days and he will tell you all about it. what i know is this, that field was ordered to go and that he gave the major an order on hay for two packages containing the money for which he was accountable. field and wilkins had had a falling out, and, instead of putting the cash in the quartermaster's safe, field kept it at hay's. at guard mounting hay brought the package to the major, who opened both in presence of the officers of the day. each package was supposed to contain three or four hundred dollars. neither contained twenty. some paper slips inserted between five dollar bills made up the packages. field was then far to the north and past conferring with. hay was amazed and distressed--said that someone must have duplicate keys of his safe as well as of his stables." "why the stables?" asked the chief, pausing at the gate and studying the troubled face of the honored soldier he so well knew and so fully trusted. he was thinking, too, how this was not the first occasion that the loss of public money had been hidden for the time in just that way--slips inserted between good currency. "because it transpires that some of his horses were out that very night without his consent or ken. no one for a moment, to my knowledge, has connected field with the loss of the money. hay thought, however, it threw suspicion on _him_, and was mightily upset." "then his sudden departure at this time, without a word to anybody looks--odd," said the general, thoughtfully. "but _he_ had no need of money. he's one of the wealthiest men in wyoming. and she--his wife,--needs nothing. he gives her all she can possibly want." by this time they were at the door. a lamp still burned dimly in the hallway, and dade blew it out, as he ushered the general into the cosily lighted dining-room. "you'll excuse mrs. dade and esther, i hope, sir. they are not yet up--quite overcome by anxiety and excitement,--there's been a lot about frayne the last two days.--take this chair, general. coffee will be served at once. no, sir, as you say, the hays have no need of money--he and his wife, that is." "but you suspect--whom?" asked the general, the blue-gray eyes intent on the troubled face before him, for dade's very hesitancy told of some untold theory. the doctor and the aide had taken seats at the other end of the table and dutifully engaged in low-toned conversation. "that is a hard question for me to answer, general," was the answer. "i have no right to suspect anybody. we had no time to complete the investigation. there are many hangers-on, you know, about hay's store, and indeed, his house. then his household, too, has been increased, as perhaps you did not know. mrs. hay's niece--a very brilliant young woman--is visiting them, and she and field rode frequently together." the general's face was a study. the keen eyes were reading dade as a skilled physician would interpret the symptoms of a complicated case. "how old--and what is she like, dade?" he asked. "the women can answer that better than i, sir. they say she must be twenty-four;--mrs. hay says nineteen--she is very dark and very handsome--at times. most of our young men seem to think so, at least. she certainly rides and dances admirably, and mr. field was constantly her partner." the general began to see light. "field was constantly with her, was he? riding just by themselves or with others when they went out?" he asked. "by themselves, sir. i doubt if any other of our equestriennes would care to ride at her pace. she rather outstrips them all. the major told me they seemed to go--well, every time he saw them, at least,--up to stabber's village, and that was something he disapproved of, though i dare say she was simply curious to see an indian village, as an eastern girl might be." "possibly," said the general. "and what did you tell me--she is mrs. hay's niece? i don't remember _his_ having any niece when they were at laramie in ' , though i knew something of mrs. hay, who was then but a short time married. she spoke sioux and _patois_ french better than english in those days. what is the young lady's name?" "miss flower, sir. nanette flower." the chief dropped his head on his hand and reflected. "it's a good twenty years, and i've been knocking about all over the west since then, but, i'd like to see mrs. hay and that young woman, dade, whether we overhaul bill or not. i must go on to beecher at once." "you will wait for the cavalry from laramie, will you not, sir?" asked the captain, anxiously. "i can't. i'll get a bath and breakfast and forty winks later; then see mrs. hay and bill, if he is back. they ought to catch him before he reaches sage creek. there are your couriers now," he added, at the sound of spurred heels on the front piazza. the captain stepped forth into the hallway. a trooper stood at the front door, his hand lifted in salute. another, in saddle, and holding the reins of his comrade's horse, was at the gate. a rustle of feminine drapery swept downward from the upper floor, and dade glanced up, half dreading to see esther's face. but it was his wife who peered over the balustrade. "i shall be down in ten minutes," she said, in low tone. "esther is sleeping at last. how did--he--seem this morning?" "sleeping, too, but only fitfully. dr. waller is here," and then dade would have ended the talk. he did not wish to speak further of field or his condition. but she called again, low-toned, yet dominant, as is many a wife in and out of the army. "surely you are not letting the general start with only two men!" "no, he goes by and by." and again dade would have escaped to the piazza, but once again she held him. "then where are you sending these?" "after mr. hay. he--made an early start--not knowing perhaps, the general was coming." "start!" she cried, all excitement now. "start!--start for where?" and the dressing sacque in aspen-like agitations came in full view at the head of the stairs. "rawlins, i suppose. i don't know what it means." "but _i_ do!" exclaimed his better half, in emotion uncontrollable. "_i_ do! it means that she has _made_ him,--that _she_ has gone, too--i mean nanette flower!" chapter xv a woman's plot woman's intuition often far outstrips the slower mental process of the other sex. the mother who has to see a beloved daughter's silent suffering, well knowing another girl to be, however indirectly, the cause of it, sees all manner of other iniquities in that other girl. kind, charitable and gentle was mrs. dade, a wise mother, too, as well as most loving, but she could look with neither kindness nor charity on miss flower. she had held her peace; allowed no word of censure or criticism to escape her when the women were discussing that young lady; but all the more vehement was her distrust, because thus pent up and repressed. with the swiftness of feminine thought, for no man had yet suspected, she fathomed the secret of the trader's sudden going; and, carried away by the excitement of the moment and the belief that none but her husband could hear, she had made that startling announcement. and her intuition was unerring. nanette flower was indeed gone. yet for nearly an hour she stood alone in her conviction. her husband quickly cautioned silence, and, going forth, gave instructions to the couriers that sent them speeding for the rawlins road. but at seven o'clock mrs. hay herself appeared and asked to see the general, who was taking at the moment his accustomed bracer, tonic and stimulant,--the only kind he was ever known to use--a cold bath. so it was to mrs. dade, in all apparent frankness and sincerity, the trader's wife began her tale. everyone at frayne well knew that her anxiety as to the outcome of the battle on the elk had well nigh equalled that of the wives and sweethearts within the garrison. while her niece, after the first day's excitement, kept to her room, the aunt went flitting from house to house, full of sympathy and suggestion, but obviously more deeply concerned than they had ever seen her. now, she seemed worried beyond words at thought of her husband's having to go at just this time. it was mainly on nanette's account, she said. only last night, with the mail from laramie, had come a letter posted in san francisco the week before, telling miss flower that her dearest friend and roommate for four years at school, who had been on an extended bridal tour, would pass through rawlins, eastward bound, on friday's train, and begging nanette to meet her and go as far at least as cheyenne. her husband, it seems, had been hurriedly recalled to new york, and there was no help for it. nanette had expected to join her, and go all the way east in late october or early november; had given her promise, in fact, for she was vastly excited by the news, and despite headache and lassitude that had oppressed her for two days past, she declared she must go, and uncle will must take her. so, with only a small trunk, hastily packed, of her belongings, and an iron-bound chest of the trader's, the two had started before dawn in uncle bill's stout buckboard, behind his famous four mule team, with pete to drive, and two sturdy ranchmen as outriders, hoping to reach the medicine bow by late afternoon, and rest at brenner's ranch. confidentially, mrs. hay told mrs. dade that her husband was glad of the excuse to take the route up the platte instead of the old, rough trail southeastward over the mountains to rock creek, for he had a large sum in currency to get to the bank, and there were desperados along the mountain route who well knew he would have to send that money in, and were surely on lookout to waylay him--or it. ever since pay-day two or three rough characters had been hanging about the store, and hay suspected they were watching his movements, with the intention of getting word to their comrades in crime the moment he started, and it was almost as much to steal a march on them, as to oblige nanette, he so willingly left before it was light. the rawlins road followed the platte valley all the way to brenner's, and, once there, he would feel safe, whereas the rock creek trail wound through gulch, ravine and forest most of the distance, affording many a chance for ambuscade. of course, said mrs. hay, if her husband had for a moment supposed the general would wish to see him, he would not have gone, adding, with just a little touch of proper, wifelike spirit, that on the general's previous visits he had never seemed to care whether he saw mr. hay or not. all this did mrs. dade accept with courteous yet guarded interest. they were seated in the little army parlor, talking in low tone; for, with unfailing tact, mrs. hay had asked for esther, and expressed her sympathy on hearing of her being unnerved by the excitement through which they had passed. well she knew that field's serious condition had not a little to do with poor esther's prostration, but that was knowledge never to be hinted at. dade himself she did not wish to meet just now. he was too direct a questioner, and had said and looked things about nanette that made her dread him. she knew that, however austere and commanding he might be when acting under his own convictions, he was abnormally susceptible to uxorial views, and the way to win the captain's sympathies or avert his censure, was to secure the kindly interest of his wife. mrs. hay knew that he had sent couriers off by the rawlins road--a significant thing in itself--and that couriers had come in from the north with further news from webb. she knew he had gone to the office, and would probably remain there until summoned for breakfast, and now was her time, for there was something further to be spoken of, and while gentle and civil, mrs. dade had not been receptive. it was evident to the trader's wife that her lord and master had made a mistake in leaving when he did. he knew the general was on the way. he knew there was that money business to be cleared up, yet she knew there were reasons why she _wanted_ him away,--reasons hardest of all to plausibly explain. there were reasons, indeed, why she was glad nanette was gone. all fort frayne was devoted to esther dade and, however unjustly, most of fort frayne,--men, women and children,--attributed field's defection, as they chose to call it, to nanette--nanette who had set at naught her aunt's most ardent wishes, in even noticing field at all. money, education, everything she could give had been lavished on that girl, and now, instead of casting her net for that well-to-do and distinguished bachelor, the major, thereby assuring for herself the proud position of first lady of fort frayne, the wife of the commanding officer, nanette had been deliberately throwing herself away at a beardless, moneyless second lieutenant, because he danced and rode well. mrs. hay did not blame mrs. dade at that moment for hating the girl, if hate she did. she could have shaken her, hard and well, herself, yet was utterly nonplussed to find that nanette cared next to nothing how badly field was wounded. what she seemed to care to know was about the casualties among the sioux, and, now that stabber's village, the last living trace of it, old men, squaws, children, pappooses, ponies and puppies and other living creatures had, between two days, been whisked away to the hills, there were no more indians close at hand to whisper information. she was glad nanette was gone, because field, wounded and present, would have advantages over possible suitors absent on campaign--because all the women and a few of the men were now against her, and because from some vague, intangible symptoms, mrs. hay had satisfied herself that there was something in the wind nanette was hiding even from her--her benefactress, her best friend, and it seemed like cold-blooded treachery. hay had for two days been disturbed, nervous and unhappy, yet would not tell her why. he had been cross-questioning pete, "crapaud" and other employees, and searching about the premises in a way that excited curiosity and even resentment, for the explanation he gave was utterly inadequate. to satisfy her if possible, he had confided, as he said, the fact that certain money for which lieutenant field was accountable, had been stolen. the cash had been carefully placed in his old-fashioned safe; the missing money, therefore, had been taken while still virtually in his charge. "they might even suspect me," he said, which she knew would not be the case. "they forbade my speaking of it to anybody, but i simply had to tell you." she felt sure there was something he was concealing; something he would not tell her; something concerning nanette, therefore, because she so loved nanette, he shrank from revealing what might wound her. indeed, it was best that nanette should go for the time, at least, but mrs. hay little dreamed that others would be saying--even this kindly, gentle woman before her--that nanette should have stayed until certain strange things were thoroughly and satisfactorily explained. but the moment she began, faltering not a little, to speak of matters at the post, as a means of leading up to nanette--matters concerning lieutenant field and his financial affairs,--to her surprise mrs. dade gently uplifted her hand and voice. "i am going to ask you not to tell me, mrs. hay," said she. "captain dade has given me to understand there was something to be investigated, but preferred that i should not ask about it. now, the general will be down in fifteen or twenty minutes. i suggest that we walk over the hospital and see how mr. field is getting on. we can talk, you know, as we go. then you will breakfast with us. indeed, may i not give you a cup of coffee now, mrs. hay?" but mrs. hay said no. she had had coffee before coming. she would go and see if there was anything they could do for field, and would try again to induce mrs. dade to listen to certain of her explanations. but mrs. dade was silent and preoccupied. she was thinking of that story of nanette's going, and wondering whether it could be true. she was wondering if mrs. hay knew the couriers had gone to recall hay, and that if he and nanette failed to return it might mean trouble for both. she could accord to mrs. hay no confidences of her own, and had been compelled to decline to listen to those with which mrs. hay would have favored her. she was thinking of something still more perplexing. the general, as her husband finally told her, had asked first thing to see hay, and later declared that he wished to talk with mrs. hay and see nanette. was it possible he knew anything of what she knew--that between hay's household and stabber's village there had been communication of some kind--that the first thing found in the indian pouch brought home by captain blake, was a letter addressed in nanette flower's hand, and with it three card photographs, two of them of unmistakable indians in civilized garb, and two letters, addressed, like hers, to mr. ralph moreau,--one care of the rev. jasper strong, valentine, nebraska, the other to the general delivery, omaha? yes, that pouch brought in by captain blake had contained matter too weighty for one woman, wise as she was, to keep to herself. mrs. blake, with her husband's full consent, had summoned mrs. ray, soon after his departure on the trail of webb, and told her of the strange discovery. they promptly decided there was only one thing to do with the letter;--hand or send it, unopened, to miss flower. then, as blake had had no time to examine further, they decided to search the pouch. there might be more letters in the same superscription. but there were not. they found tobacco, beeswax, an empty flask that had contained whiskey, vaseline, pond's extract, salve, pigments, a few sheets of note paper, envelopes and pencil--odd things to find in the possession of a sioux--a burning glass, matches, some quinine pills, cigars, odds and ends of little consequence, and those letters addressed to r. moreau. the first one they had already decided should go to miss flower. the others, they thought, should be handed unopened to the commanding officer. they might contain important information, now that the sioux were at war and that ralph moreau had turned out probably to be a real personage. but first they would consult mrs. dade. they had done so the very evening of blake's departure, even as he, long miles away, was telling kennedy his irish heart was safe from the designs of one blood-thirsty sioux; and mrs. dade had agreed with them that nanette's letter should be sent to her forthwith, and that, as captain blake had brought it in, the duty of returning the letter devolved upon his wife. and so, after much thought and consultation, a little note was written, saying nothing about the other contents or about the pouch itself. "dear miss flower:" it read. "the enclosed was found by captain blake some time this morning. he had no time to deliver it in person. yours sincerely. n. b. blake." she would enter into no explanation and would say nothing of the consultation. she could not bring herself to sign her name as usually she signed it, nannie bryan blake. she had, as any man or woman would have had, a consuming desire to know what miss flower could be writing to a mr. moreau, whose correspondence turned up in this remarkable way, in the pouch of a painted sioux. but she and they deemed it entirely needless to assure miss flower no alien eye had peered into the mysterious pages. (it might have resulted in marvellous developments if miss flower thought they had.) note and enclosure were sent first thing next morning by the trusty hand of master sanford ray, himself, and by him delivered in person to miss flower, who met him at the trader's gate. she took it, he said; and smiled, and thanked him charmingly before she opened it. she was coming out for her customary walk at the hour of guard mounting, but the next thing he knew she had "scooted" indoors again. and from that moment miss flower had not been seen. all this was mrs. dade revolving in mind as she walked pityingly by the side of the troubled woman, only vaguely listening to her flow of words. they had thought to be admitted to the little room in which the wounded officer lay, but as they tiptoed into the wide, airy hall and looked over the long vista of pink-striped coverlets in the big ward beyond, the doctor himself appeared at the entrance and barred the way. "is there nothing we can do?" asked mrs. dade, with tears in her voice. "is he--so much worse?" "nothing can be done just now," answered waller, gravely. "he has had high fever during the night--has been wakeful and flighty again. i--should rather no one entered just now." and then they noted that even the steward who had been with poor field was now hovering about the door of the dispensary and that only dr. waller remained within the room. "i am hoping to get him to sleep again presently," said he. "and when he is mending there will be a host of things for you both to do." but that mending seemed many a day off, and mrs. hay, poor woman, had graver cares of her own before the setting sun. avoiding the possibility of meeting the general just now, and finding mrs. dade both silent and constrained at mention of her niece's name, the trader's wife went straightway homeward from the hospital, and did not even see the post commander hurrying from his office, with an open despatch in his hand. but by this time the chief and his faithful aide were out on the veranda, surrounded by anxious wives and daughters, many of whom had been earnestly bothering the doctor at the hospital before going to breakfast. dade much wished them away, though the news brought in by night riders was both stirring and cheery. the indians had flitted away from webb's front, and he counted on reaching and rescuing the dry fork party within six hours from the time the courier started. they might expect the good news during the afternoon of thursday. scouts and flankers reported finding _travois_ and pony tracks leading westward from the scene of ray's fierce battle, indicating that the indians had carried their dead and wounded into the fastnesses of the southern slopes of the big horn, and that their punishment had been heavy. among the chiefs killed or seriously wounded was this new, vehement leader whom captains blake and ray thought might be red fox, who was so truculent at the black hills conference the previous year. certain of the men, however, who had seen red fox at that time expressed doubts. lieutenant field, said webb, had seen him, and could probably say. over this despatch the general pondered gravely. "from what i know of red fox," said he, "i should think him a leader of the sitting bull type,--a shrew, intriguing, mischief-making fellow, a sort of sioux walking delegate, not a battle leader; but according to blake and ray this new man is a fighter." then mrs. dade came out and bore the general off to breakfast, and during breakfast the chief was much preoccupied. mrs. dade and the aide-de-camp chatted on social matters. the general exchanged an occasional word with his host and hostess, and finally surprised neither of them, when breakfast was over and he had consumed the last of his glass of hot water, by saying to his staff officer, "i should like to see mrs. hay a few minutes, if possible. we'll walk round there first. then--let the team be ready at ten o'clock." but the team, although ready, did not start northward at ten, and the general, though he saw mrs. hay, had no speech with her upon the important matters uppermost in his mind during the earlier hours of the day. he found that good lady in a state of wild excitement and alarm. one of the two outriders who had started with her husband and niece at dawn, was mounted on a dun-colored cow pony, with white face and feet. one of the two troopers sent by dade to overtake and bring them back, was turning a blown and exhausted horse over to the care of hay's stablemen, as he briefly told his story to the wild-eyed, well nigh distracted woman. six miles up stream, he said, they had come suddenly upon a dun-colored cow pony, dead in his tracks, with white feet in air and white muzzle bathed in blood; bridle, saddle and rider gone; signs of struggle in places--but no signs of the party, the team and wagon, anywhere. "and no cavalry to send out after them!" said dade, when he reached the spot. old crabb was called at once, and mustered four semi-invalided troopers. the infantry supplied half a dozen stout riders and, with a mixed escort, the general, accompanied by dade and the aide-de-camp, drove swiftly to the scene. six miles away they found the dead pony. seven miles away they encountered the second trooper, coming back. he had followed the trail of the four mule team as far as yonder point, said he, and there was met by half a dozen shots from unseen foe, and so rode back out of range. but dade threw his men forward as skirmishers; found no living soul either at the point or on the banks of the rocky ford beyond; but, in the shallows, close to the shore, lay the body of the second outrider, shot and scalped. in a clump of willows lay another body, that of a pinto pony, hardly cold, while the soft, sandy shores were cut by dozens of hoof tracks--shoeless. the tracks of the mules and wagon lay straight away across the stream bed--up the opposite bank and out on the northward-sweeping bench beyond. hay's famous four, and well-known wagon, contents and all, therefore, had been spirited away, not toward the haunts of the road agents in the mountains of the medicine bow, but to those of the sovereign sioux in the fastnesses of the storied big horn. chapter xvi night prowling at frayne in the full of the september moon the war-bands of the sioux had defied agents and peace chiefs, commissioners and soldiers, and started their wild campaign in northern wyoming. in the full of the october moon the big chief of the whites had swept the last vestige of their warriors from the plains, and followed their bloody trails into the heart of the mountains, all his cavalry and much of his foot force being needed for the work in hand. not until november, therefore, when the ice bridge spanned the still reaches of the platte, and the snow lay deep in the brakes and _coulées_, did the foremost of the homeward-bound commands come in view of old fort frayne, and meantime very remarkable things had occurred, and it was to a very different, if only temporary, post commander that sandy ray reported them as "sighted." even brave old dade had been summoned to the front, with all his men, and in their place had come from distant posts in kansas other troops to occupy the vacant quarters and strive to feel at home in strange surroundings. a man of austere mold was the new major,--one of the old covenanter type, who would march to battle shouting hymn tunes, and to christmas and thanksgiving chanting doleful lays. he hailed, indeed, from old puritan stock; had been a pillar in the village church in days before the great war, and emulated stonewall jackson in his piety, if he did not in martial prowess. backed by local, and by no means secular, influences he had risen in the course of the four years' war from a junior lieutenancy to the grade of second in command of his far eastern regiment; had rendered faithful services in command of convalescent camps and the like, but developed none of that vain ambition which prompts the seeking of "the bubble reputation" at the cannon's mouth. all he ever knew of southern men in ante-bellum days was what he heard from the lips of inspired orators or read from the pens of very earnest anti-slavery editors. through lack of opportunity he had met no southerner before the war, and carried his stanch, calvinistic prejudices to such extent that he seemed to shrink from closer contact even then. the war was holy. the hand of the lord would surely smite the slave-holding arch rebel, which was perhaps why the covenanter thought it work of supererogation to raise his own. he finished as he began the war, in the unalterable conviction that the southern president, his cabinet and all his leading officers should be hung, and their lands confiscated to the state--or its representatives. he had been given a commission in the army when such things were not hard to get--at the reorganization in ' , had been stationed in a ku klux district all one winter and in a sanitarium most of the year that followed. he thought the nation on the highroad to hell when it failed to impeach the president of high crimes and misdemeanors, and sent hancock to harmonize matters in louisiana. he was sure of it when the son of a southerner, who had openly flouted him, was sent to west point. he retained these radical views even unto the twentieth anniversary of the great surrender; and, while devoutly praying for forgiveness of his own sins, could never seem to forgive those whose lot had been cast with the south. he was utterly nonplussed when told that the young officer, languishing in hospital on his arrival, was the son of a distinguished major-general of the confederate army, and he planned for the father a most frigid greeting, until reminded that the former major-general was now a member of congress and of the committee on military affairs. then it became his duty to overlook the past. he had not entered field's little room, even when inspecting hospital (flint was forever inspecting something or other)--the doctor's assurance that, though feeble, his patient was doing quite well, was all sufficient. he had thought to greet the former confederate, a sorely anxious father, with grave and distant civility, as an avowed and doubtless unregenerate enemy of that sacred flag; but, as has been said, that was before it was pointed out to him that this was the honorable m. c. from the pelican state, now prominent as a member of the house committee on military affairs. motherless and sister-less was the wounded boy, yet gentle and almost caressing hands had blessed his pillow and helped to drive fever and delirium to the winds. it was twelve days after they brought him back to frayne before the father could hope to reach him, coming post haste, too; but by that time the lad was propped on his pillows, weak, sorrowing and sorely troubled, none the less so because there was no one now to whom he could say _why_. the men whom he knew and trusted were all away on campaign, all save the veteran post surgeon, whom hitherto he had felt he hardly knew at all. the women whom he had best known and trusted were still present at the post. mrs. ray and mrs. blake had been his friends, frank, cordial and sincere up to the week of his return from laramie and his sudden and overwhelming infatuation for nanette flower. then they had seemed to hold aloof, to greet him only with courtesy, and to eye him with unspoken reproach. the woman at fort frayne to whom he most looked up was mrs. dade, and now mrs. dade seemed alienated utterly. she had been to inquire for him frequently, said his attendant, when he was so racked with fever. so had others, and they sent him now jellies and similar delicacies, but came no more in person--just yet at least--but he did not know the doctor so desired. field knew that his father, after the long, long journey from the distant south, was now close at hand,--would be with him within a few hours, and even with ray's warm words of praise still ringing in his ears, the young soldier was looking to that father's coming almost with distress. it was through god's mercy and the wisdom of the old surgeon that no word, as yet, had been whispered to him of the discovery made when the money packages were opened--of the tragic fate that had, possibly, befallen bill hay and miss flower. that a large sum of money was missing, and that field was the accountable officer, was already whispered about the garrison. the fact that four officers and mr. hay were aware of it in the first place, and the latter had told it to his wife, was fatal to entire secrecy. but, in the horror and excitement that prevailed when the details of the later tragedy were noised about the post, this minor incident had been almost forgotten. the disappearance of hay and his brilliant, beautiful niece, however, was not to be forgotten for a moment, day or night, despite the fact that mrs. hay, who had been almost crazed with dread and terror when first informed there had been a "hold-up," rallied almost immediately, and took heart and hope when it became apparent that indians, not white men, were the captors. "the sioux would never harm a hair of his head," she proudly declared. "he has been their friend for half a century." nor had she fears for nanette. the sioux would harm nobody her husband sought to protect. when it was pointed out to her that they had harmed the guards,--that one of them was found shot dead and scalped at the shores of the platte, and the other, poor fellow, had crawled off among the rocks and bled to death within gunshot of the scene,--mrs. hay said they must have first shown fight and shot some of the sioux, for all the indians knew mr. hay's wagon. then why, asked fort frayne, had they molested him--and his? the general had had to leave for the front without seeing mrs. hay. more than ever was it necessary that he should be afield, for this exploit showed that some of the sioux, at least, had cut loose from the main body and had circled back toward the platte--stabber's people in all probability. so, sending crabb and his little squad across the river to follow a few miles, at least, the trail of the wagon and its captors, and ascertain, if possible, whither it had gone, he hurried back to frayne; sent messengers by the laramie road to speed the cavalry, and orders to the colonel to send two troops at once to rescue hay and his niece; sent wires calling for a few reinforcements, and was off on the way to beecher, guarded by a handful of sturdy "doughboys" in ambulances, before ever the body of the second victim was found. and then, little by little, it transpired that this mysterious war party, venturing to the south bank of the platte, did not exceed half a dozen braves. crabb got back in thirty-six hours, with five exhausted men. they had followed the wheel tracks over the open prairie and into the foothills far to the northwest, emboldened by the evidence of there being but few ponies in the original bandit escort. but, by four in the afternoon, they got among the breaks and ravines and, first thing they knew, among the indians, for zip came the bullets and down went two horses, and they had to dismount and fight to stand off possible swarms, and, though owning they had seen no indians, they had proof of having felt them, and were warranted in pushing no further. after dark they began their slow retreat and here they were. and for seven days that was the last heard, by the garrison, at least, of these most recent captives of the sioux. gentle and sympathetic women, however, who called on mrs. hay, were prompt to note that though unnerved, unstrung, distressed, she declared again and again her faith that the indians would never really harm her husband. they might hold him and nanette as hostages for ransom. they might take for their own purposes his wagon, his mules and that store of money, but his life was safe, yes, and nanette's too. of this she was so confident that people began to wonder whether she had not received some assurance to that effect, and when pete, the stable boy driver, turned up at the end of the first week with a cock-and-bull story about having stolen an indian pony and shot his way from the midst of the sioux away up on no wood creek, on the west side of the hills, and having ridden by night and hidden by day until he got back to the platte and frayne, people felt sure of it. pete could talk sioux better than he could jabber english. he declared the indians were in the hills by thousands, and were going to take hay and the young lady away off somewhere to be held for safe keeping. he said the two troops that, never even halting at frayne, had pushed out on the trail, would only get into trouble if they tried to enter the hills from the south, and that they would never get the captives, wherein pete was right, for away out among the spurs and gorges of the range, fifty miles from frayne, the pursuers came upon the wreck of the wagon at the foot of an acclivity, up which a force of sioux had gone in single file. many warriors it would seem, however, must have joined the party on the way, and from here,--where with the wagon was found hay's stout box, bereft of its contents,--in four different directions the pony tracks of little parties crossed or climbed the spurs, and which way the captives had been taken, captain billings, the commander, could not determine. what the sioux hoped he might do was divide his force into four detachments and send one on each trail. then they could fall upon them, one by one, and slay them at their leisure. billings saw the game, however, and was not to be caught. he knew bill hay, his past and his popularity among the red men. he knew that if they meant to kill him at all they would not have taken the trouble to cart him fifty miles beforehand. he dropped the stern chase then and there, and on the following day skirted the foothills away to the east and, circling round to the breaks of the powder as he reached the open country, struck and hard hit a scouting band of sioux, and joined the general three days later, when most he was needed, near the log palisades of old fort beecher. then there had been more or less of mysterious coming and going among the halfbreed hangers-on about the trader's store, and these were things the new post commander knew not how to interpret, even when informed of them. he saw mrs. hay but once or twice. he moved into the quarters of major webb, possessing himself, until his own should arrive, of such of the major's belongings as the vigilance of mistress mcgann would suffer. he stationed big guards from his two small companies about the post, and started more hard swearing among his own men, for "getting only two nights in bed," than had been heard at frayne in long months of less pious post commandership. he strove to make himself agreeable to the ladies, left lamenting for their lords, but as luck would have it, fell foremost into the clutches of the quartermaster's wife, the dominant and unterrified wilkins. just what prompted that energetic and, in many ways, estimable woman, to take the new major into close communion, and tell him not only what she knew, but what she thought, about all manner of matters at the post, can never be justly determined. but within the first few days of his coming, and on the eve of the arrival of general field, major flint was in possession of the story of how devoted young field had been to esther dade, and how cruelly he had jilted her for the brilliant miss flower, "her that was gone with the sioux." the differences between her stout, veteran liege and the smooth-faced stripling had given her text to start with. the story of the money lost had filtered from her lips, and finally that of other peccadilloes, attributable to the young post adjutant, whom, as she said, "the meejor had to rejuice and sind to the front all along of his doin's in gar'son." dade was gone. there was no man save wilkins to whom major flint felt that he could appeal for confirmation or denial of these stories. dr. waller was his senior in the service by ten years at least, and a type of the old-time officer and gentleman of whom such as flint stood ever in awe. he preferred, therefore, as he thought, to keep the doctor at a distance, to make him feel the immensity of his, the post commander's, station, and so, as wilkins dare not disavow the sayings of his wife, even had he been so minded, the stories stood. flint was thinking of them this very evening when dr. waller, happening to meet him on his way from hospital briefly said that general field should be with them on the morrow. "he leaves rock creek to-night, having hired transportation there. i had hoped our lad might be in better spirits by this time." the major answered vaguely. how could a lad with all these sins upon his soul be in anything but low spirits? here was a brand to be snatched from the burning, a youth whom prompt, stern measures might redeem and restore, one who should be taught the error of his ways forthwith; only, the coming of the member of the military committee of the house of representatives might make the process embarrassing. there were other ways, therefore and however, in which this valuable information in the major's possession might be put to use, and of these was the major thinking, more than of the condition of the wounded lad, physical or spiritual, as homeward through the gloaming he wended his way. might it not be well to wait until this important and influential personage had reached the post before proceeding further? might it not be well, confidentially and gradually, as it were, to permit the honorable m. c. to know that grave irregularities had occurred?--that up to this moment the complete knowledge thereof was locked in the breast of the present post commander?--that the suppression or presentation of the facts depended solely upon that post commander? and then if the member of the house committee on military affairs proved receptive, appreciative, in fact responsive, might not the ends of justice better be subserved by leaving to the parent the duty of personally and privately correcting the son? and, in consideration of the post commander's wisdom and continence, pledging the influence of the military committee to certain delectable ends in the major's behalf? long had flint had his eye on a certain desirable berth in the distant east--at the national capitol in fact--but never yet had he found statesman or soldier inclined to further his desire. that night the major bade mr. and mrs. wilkins hold their peace as to field's peccadilloes until further leave was given them to speak. that night the major, calling at captain dade's, was concerned to hear that mrs. dade was not at home. "gone over to the hospital with mrs. blake and the doctor," was the explanation, and these gentle-hearted women, it seems, were striving to do something to rouse the lad from the slough of despond which had engulfed him. that night "pink" marble, hay's faithful book-keeper and clerk for many a year, a one-armed veteran of the civil war, calling, as was his invariable custom when the trader was absent, to leave the keys of the safe and desks with mrs. hay, was surprised to find her in a flood of tears, for which she declined all explanation; yet the sight of pete, the half breed, slouching away toward the stables as marble closed the gate, more than suggested cause, for "pink" had long disapproved of that young man. that night crapaud, the other stableman, had scandalized jerry sullivan, the bar-keeper, and old mcgann, webb's hibernian major domo, by interrupting their game of old sledge with a demand for a quart of whiskey on top of all that he had obviously and surreptitiously been drinking, and by further indulging in furious threats, in a sputtering mixture of dakota french and french dakota, when summarily kicked out. that night, late as twelve o'clock, mrs. ray, aroused by the infantile demands of the fourth of the olive branches, and further disturbed by the suspicious growlings and challenge of old tonto, blake's veteran mastiff, peeped from the second story window and plainly saw two forms in soldier overcoats at the back fence, and wondered what the sentries found about blake's quarters to require so much attention. then she became aware of a third form, rifle-bearing, and slowly pacing the curving line of the bluff--the sentry beyond doubt. who, then, were these others who had now totally disappeared? she thought to speak of it to nannie in the morning, and then thought not. there were reasons why nervous alarm of any kind were best averted then from mrs. blake. but there came reason speedily why mrs. ray could not forget it. and that night, later still, along toward four o'clock, the persistent clicking of the telegraph instrument at the adjutant's office caught the ear of the sentry, who in time stirred up the operator, and a "rush" message was later thrust into the hand of major flint, demolishing a day-old castle in the air. from rock creek, wyoming, _october , --._ : p. m. commanding officer, fort frayne, _via fort laramie_. stage capsized crook cañon. general field seriously injured. have wired omaha. (signed) warner, _commanding camp._ chapter xvii a rifled desk events moved swiftly in the week that followed. particulars of the accident to general field, however, were slow in reaching fort frayne; and, to the feverish unrest and mental trouble of the son, was now added a feverish anxiety on the father's account that so complicated the situation as to give dr. waller grave cause for alarm. then it was that, ignoring every possible thought of misbehavior on the part of the young officer toward the gentle girl so dear to them, not only mrs. blake and mrs. ray, but mrs. dade herself, insisted on being made of use,--insisted on being permitted to go to his bedside and there to minister, as only women can, to the suffering and distressed. waller thought it over and succumbed. the lad was no longer delirious, at least, and if he revealed anything of what was uppermost in his mind it would be a conscious and voluntary revelation. there were some things he had said and that waller alone had heard, the good old doctor wished were known to certain others of the garrison, and to no one more than mrs. dade; and so the prohibition against their visiting the wounded lad was withdrawn, and not only these, but other women, sympathetically attracted, were given the necessary authority. there was other reason for this. from the commanding officer of the supply camp at rock springs had come, finally, a letter that was full of foreboding. general field, it said, was sorely injured and might not survive. if the department commander had only been at omaha or cheyenne, as the anxious father hastened to reach his son, the mishap would never have occurred. the general would gladly have seen to it that suitable transportation from the railway to frayne was afforded his old-time comrade. but, in his absence, field shrank from appealing to anyone else, and, through the train conductor, wired ahead to rock creek for a stout four-mule team and wagon, with a capable driver. the conductor assured him that such things were to be had for money, and that everything would be in readiness on his arrival. team, wagon and driver certainly were on hand, but the team looked rickety, so did the wagon, so did the driver, who had obviously been priming for the occasion. it was this rig or nothing, however; and, in spite of a courteous remonstrance from the two officers at the supply camp, who saw and condemned the "outfit," general field started on time and returned on an improvised trestle three hours later. the "outfit" had been tumbled over a ledge into a rocky creek bottom, and with disastrous results to all concerned except the one who deserved it most--the driver. the ways of providence are indeed inscrutable. a surgeon had been sent from fort russell, and his report was such that waller would not let it go in full to his patient. they had carried the old soldier back to camp, and such aid as could be given by the rude hands of untaught men was all he had for nearly twenty-four hours, and his suffering had been great. internal injuries, it was feared, had been sustained, and at his advanced age that was something almost fatal. no wonder waller was worried. then flint took alarm at other troubles closer at hand. up to this year he had been mercifully spared all personal contact with our indian wards, and when he was told by his sentries that twice in succession night riders had been heard on the westward "bench," and pony tracks in abundance had been found at the upper ford--the site of stabber's village--and that others still were to be seen in the soft ground not far from hay's corral, the major was more than startled. at this stage of the proceedings, sergeant crabb of the cavalry was the most experienced indian fighter left at the post. crabb was sent for, and unflinchingly gave his views. the sioux had probably scattered before the squadrons sent after them from the north; had fled into the hills and, in small bands probably, were now raiding down toward the platte, well knowing there were few soldiers left to defend fort frayne, and no cavalry were there to chase them. "what brings them here? what do they hope to get or gain?" asked flint. "i don't know, sir," answered crabb. "but this i do know, they are after something and expect to get it. if i might make so bold, sir, i think the major ought to keep an eye on them blasted halfbreeds at hay's." it set flint to serious thinking. pete and crapaud, paid henchmen of the trader, had been taking advantage of their employer's absence and celebrating after the manner of their kind. one of his officers, new like himself to the neighborhood and to the indians, had had encounter with the two that rubbed his commissioned fur the wrong way. a sentry, in discharge of his duty, had warned them one evening away from the rear gate of a bachelor den, along officers' row, and had been told to go to sheol, or words to that effect. they had more business there than he had, said they, and, under the potent sway of "inspiring bold john barleycorn" had not even abated their position when the officer-of-the-day happened along. they virtually damned and defied him, too. the officer-of-the-day reported to the commanding officer, and that officer called on mrs. hay to tell her he should order the culprits off the reservation if they were not better behaved. mrs. hay, so said the servant, was feeling far from well and had to ask to be excused, when who should appear but that ministering angel mrs. dade herself, and mrs. dade undertook to tell mrs. hay of the misconduct of the men, even when assuring major flint she feared it was a matter in which mrs. hay was powerless. they were afraid of hay, but not of her. hearing of mrs. hay's illness, mrs. dade and other women had come to visit and console her, but there were very few whom she would now consent to see. even though confident no bodily harm would befall her husband or her niece, mrs. hay was evidently sore disturbed about something. failing to see her, major flint sent for the bartender and clerk, and bade them say where these truculent, semi-savage bacchanals got their whiskey, and both men promptly and confidently declared it wasn't at the store. neither of them would give or sell to either halfbreed a drop, and old wilkins stood sponsor for the integrity of the affiants, both of whom he had known for years and both of whom intimated that the two specimens had no need to be begging, buying or stealing whiskey, when bill hay's private cellar held more than enough to fill the whole sioux nation. "moreover," said pink marble, "they've got the run of the stables now the old man's away, and there isn't a night some of those horses ain't out." when flint said that was something mrs. hay ought to know, pink marble replied that was something mrs. hay did know, unless she refused to believe the evidence of her own senses as well as his, and pink thought it high time our fellows in the field had recaptured hay and fetched him home. if it wasn't done mighty soon he, pink, wouldn't be answerable for what might happen at the post. all the more anxious did this make flint. he decided that the exigencies of the case warranted his putting a sentry over hay's stable, with orders to permit no horse to be taken out except by an order from him, and crabb took him and showed him, two days later, the tracks of two horses going and coming in the soft earth in front of a narrow side door that led to the corral. flint had this door padlocked at once and wilkins took the key, and that night was surprised by a note from mrs. hay. "the stablemen complain that the sentries will not let them take the horses out even for water and exercise, which has never been the case before," and mrs. hay begged that the restriction might be removed. indeed, if major flint would remove the sentry, she would assume all responsibility for loss or damage. the men had been with mr. hay, she said, for six years and never had been interfered with before, and they were sensitive and hurt and would quit work, they said, if further molested. then there would be nobody to take their place and the stock would suffer. in point of fact, mrs. hay was pleading for the very men against whom the other employés claimed to have warned her--these two halfbreeds who had defied his sentries,--and flint's anxieties materially increased. it taxed all his stock of personal piety, and strengthened the belief he was beginning to harbor, that mrs. hay had some use for the horses at night--some sojourners in the neighborhood with whom she must communicate, and who could they be but sioux? then mistress mcgann, sound sleeper that she used to be, declared to the temporary post commander, as he was, and temporary lodger as she considered him, that things "was goin' on about the post she'd never heard the likes of before, and that the meejor would never put up with a minute." when mrs. mcgann said "the meejor" she meant not flint, but his predecessor. there was but one major in her world,--the one she treated like a minor. being a soldier's wife, however, she knew the deference due to the commanding officer, even though she did not choose to show it, and when bidden to say her say and tell what things "was goin' on" mistress mcgann asseverated, with the asperity of a woman who has had to put her husband to bed two nights running, that the time had never been before that he was so drunk he didn't know his way home, and so got into the back of the bachelor quarters instead of his own. "and to think av his bein' propped up at his own gate by a lousy, frog-eatin' half frinchman, half salvage!" yet, when investigated, this proved to be the case, and the further question arose, where did mcgann get his whiskey? a faithful, loyal devoted old servitor was mcgann, yet webb, as we have seen, had ever to watch his whiskey carefully lest the irishman should see it, and seeing taste, and tasting fall. the store had orders from mrs. mcgann, countersigned by webb, to the effect that her husband was never to have a drop. flint was a teetotaller himself, and noted without a shadow of disapprobation that the decanters on the sideboard were both empty the very day he took possession, also that the cupboard was securely locked. mrs. mcgann was sure her liege got no liquor there nor at the store, and his confused statement that it was given him by "fellers at the stables," was treated with scorn. mcgann then was still under marital surveillance and official displeasure the day after mrs. mcgann's revelations, with unexplained iniquities to answer for when his head cleared and his legs resumed their functions. but by that time other matters were brought to light that laid still further accusation at his door. with the consent of dr. waller, lieutenant field had been allowed to send an attendant for his desk. there were letters, he said, he greatly wished to see and answer, and mrs. ray had been so kind as to offer to act as his amanuensis. the attendant went with the key and came back with a scared face. somebody, he said, had been there before him. they did not tell field this at the time. the doctor went at once with the messenger, and in five minutes had taken in the situation. field's rooms had been entered and probably robbed. there was only one other occupant of the desolate set that so recently had rung to the music of so many glad young voices. of the garrison proper at frayne all the cavalry officers except wilkins were away at the front; all the infantry officers, five in number, were also up along the big horn. the four who had come with flint were strangers to the post, but herron, who had been a classmate of ross at the point, moved into his room and took the responsibility of introducing the contract doctor, who came with them, into the quarters at the front of the house on the second floor. these rooms had been left open and unlocked. there was nothing, said the lawful occupant, worth stealing, which was probably true; but field had bolted, inside, the door of his sleeping room; locked the hall door of his living room and taken the key with him when he rode with ray. the doctor looked over the rooms a moment; then sent for wilkins, the post quartermaster, who came in a huff at being disturbed at lunch. field had been rather particular about his belongings. his uniforms always hung on certain pegs in the plain wooden wardrobe. the drawers of his bureau were generally arranged like the clothes press of cadet days, as though for inspection, but now coats, blouses, dressingsack and smoking jacket hung with pockets turned inside out or flung about the bed and floor. trousers had been treated with like contempt. the bureau looked like what sailors used to call a "hurrah's nest," and a writing desk, brass-bound and of solid make, that stood on a table by a front window, had been forcibly wrenched open, and its contents were tossed about the floor. a larger desk,--a wooden field desk--stood upon a trestle across the room, and this, too, had been ransacked. just what was missing only one man could tell. just how they entered was patent to all--through a glazed window between the bed-room and the now unused dining room beyond. just who were the housebreakers no man present could say; but mistress mcgann that afternoon communicated her suspicion to her sore-headed spouse, and did it boldly and with the aid of a broomstick. "it's all along," she said, "av your shtoopin' to dhrink wid them low lived salvages at hay's. now, what d'ye know about this?" but mcgann swore piously he knew nothing "barrin' that pete and crapaud had some good liquor one night--dear knows when it was--an' i helped 'em dhrink your health,--an' when 'twas gone, and more was wanted, sure pete said he'd taken a demijohn to the lieutenant's, with mr. hay's compliments, the day before he left for the front, and sure he couldn't have drunk all av it, and if the back dure was open pete would inquire anyhow." that was all michael remembered or felt warranted in revealing, for stoutly he declared his and their innocence of having burglariously entered any premises, let alone the lieutenant's. "sure they'd bite their own noses off fur him," said mike, which impossible feat attested the full measure of halfbreed devotion. mistress mcgann decided to make further investigation before saying anything to anybody; but, before the dawn of another day, matters took such shape that fear of sorrowful consequences, involving even michael, set a ban on her impulse to speak. field, it seems, had been at last induced to sleep some hours that evening, and it was nearly twelve when he awoke and saw his desk on a table near the window. the attendant was nodding in an easy chair; and, just as the young officer determined to rouse him, mrs. dade, with the doctor, appeared on tiptoe at the doorway. for a few minutes they kept him interested in letters and reports concerning his father's condition, the gravity of which, however, was still withheld from him. then there were reports from tongue river, brought in by courier, that had to be told him. but after a while he would be no longer denied. he demanded to see his desk and his letters. at a sign from the doctor, the attendant raised it from the table and bore it to the bed. "i found things in some confusion in your quarters, field," said waller, by way of preparation, "and i probably haven't arranged the letters as you would if you had had time. they were lying about loosely--" but he got no further. field had started up and was leaning on one elbow. the other arm was outstretched. "what do you mean?" he cried. "the desk hasn't been _opened_?" too evidently, however, it had been, and in an instant field had pulled a brass pin that held in place a little drawer. it popped part way out, and with trembling hands he drew it forth--empty. before he could speak mrs. dade suddenly held up her hand in signal for silence, her face paling at the instant. there was a rush of slippered feet through the corridor, a hum of excited voices, and both dr. waller and the attendant darted for the door. outside, in the faint starlight, sound of commotion came from the direction of the guard-house,--of swift footfalls from far across the parade, of the vitreous jar of windows hastily raised. two or three lights popped suddenly into view along the dark line of officers' quarters, and waller's voice, with a ring of authority unusual to him, halted a running corporal of the guard. "what is it?" demanded he. "i don't know, sir," was the soldier's answer. "there was an awful scream from the end quarters--captain ray's, sir." then on he went again. and then came the crack, crack of a pistol. chapter xviii burglary at blake's the doctor started at the heels of the corporal, but was distanced long before he reached the scene. the sergeant of the guard was hammering on the front door of blake's quarters; but, before the summons was answered from within, mrs. ray, in long, loose wrapper, came hurrying forth from her own--the adjoining--hallway. her face was white with dread. "it is i, nannie. let us in," she cried, and the door was opened by a terrified servant, as the doctor came panting up the steps. together he and mrs. ray hurried in. "robbers!" gasped the servant girl--"gone--the back way!" and collapsed on the stairs. sergeant and corporal both tore around to the west side and out of the rear gate. not a sign of fugitives could they see, and, what was worse, not a sign of sentry. number , of the third relief, should at that moment have been pacing the edge of the bluff in rear of the northernmost quarters, and yet might be around toward the flagstaff. "find number ," were the sergeant's orders, and back he hurried to the house, not knowing what to expect. by that time others of the guard had got there and the officer-of-the-day was coming,--the clink of his sword could be heard down the road,--and more windows were uplifted and more voices were begging for information, and then came mrs. dade, breathless but calm. within doors she found the doctor ministering to a stout female who seemed to have gone off in an improvised swoon--mrs. blake's imported cook. up the stairs, to her own room again, mrs. blake was being led by marion ray's encircling arm. three women were speedily closeted there, for mrs. dade was like an elder sister to these two sworn friends, and, not until mrs. dade and they were ready, did that lady descend the stairs and communicate the facts to the excited gathering in the parlor, and they in turn to those on the porch in front. by this time flint himself, with the poet quartermaster, was on hand, and all fort frayne seemed to rouse, and mrs. gregg had come with mrs. wilkins, and these two had relieved the doctor of the care of the cook, now talking volubly; and, partly through her revelations, but mainly through the more coherent statements of mrs. dade, were the facts made public. margaret, the cook, had a room to herself on the ground floor adjoining her kitchen. belle, the maid, had been given the second floor back, in order to be near to her young mistress. bitzer, the blakes' man-of-all-work,--like mcgann, a discharged soldier,--slept in the basement at the back of the house, and there was he found, blinking, bewildered and only with difficulty aroused from stupor by a wrathful sergeant. the cook's story, in brief, was that she was awakened by mrs. blake's voice at her door and, thinking belle was sick, she jumped up and found mrs. blake in her wrapper, asking was she, margaret, up stairs a moment before. then mrs. blake, with her candle, went into the dining room, and out jumped a man in his stocking feet from the captain's den across the hall, and knocked over mrs. blake and the light, and made for her, the cook; whereat she screamed and slammed her door in his face, and that was really all she knew about it. but mrs. blake knew more. awakened by some strange consciousness of stealthy movement about the house, she called belle by name, thinking possibly the girl might be ill and seeking medicine. there was sound of more movement, but no reply. mrs. blake's girlhood had been spent on the frontier. she was a stranger to fear. she arose; struck a light and, seeing no one in her room or the guest chamber and hallway, hastened to the third room, and was surprised to find belle apparently quietly sleeping. then she decided to look about the house and, first, went down and roused the cook. as she was coming out of the dining room, a man leaped past her in the hall, hurling her to one side and dashing out the light. her back was toward him, for he came from gerald's own premises known as the den. in that den, directly opposite, was one of her revolvers, loaded. she found it, even in the darkness and, hurrying forth again, intending to chase the intruder and alarm the sentry at the rear, encountered either the same or a second man close to the back door, a man who sprang past her like a panther and darted down the steps at the back of the house, followed by two shots from her smith & wesson. one of these men wore a soldier's overcoat, for the cape, ripped from the collar seam, was left in her hands. another soldier's overcoat was later found at the rear fence, but no boots, shoes or tracks thereof, yet both these men, judging from the sound, had been in stocking feet, or possibly rubbers, or perhaps--but that last suspicion she kept to herself, for mrs. hay, too, was now among the arrivals in the house, full of sympathy and genuine distress. the alarm, then, had gone beyond the guard-house, and the creators thereof beyond the ken of the guard, for not a sentry had seen or heard anything suspicious until after the shots; then number , flint's latest addition, declared that from his post at hay's corral he had distinctly heard the swift hoofbeats of a brace of ponies darting up the level bench to the westward. number had turned up safely, and declared that at the moment the scream was heard he was round by the flagstaff, listening to the night chorus of a pack of yelping coyotes, afar out to the northwest, and then he thought he heard scrambling and running down at the foot of the bluff just as the shots were fired. investigation on his part was what took him out of sight for the moment, and later investigation showed that one marauder, at least, had gone that way, for a capeless greatcoat was found close down by the shore, where some fugitive had tossed it in his flight. this overcoat bore, half erased from the soiled lining, the name of culligan, troop "k;" but culligan had served out his time and taken his discharge a year before. the other overcoat was even older, an infantry coat, with shorter cape, bearing a company number " ," but no name. both garments savored strongly of the stable. then, before quiet was restored, certain search was made about the quarters. it was found the intruders had obtained admission through the basement door at the back, which was never locked, for the sentry on number had orders to call bitzer at : a. m., to start the fires, milk the cow, etc.,--hogan, ray's factotum, being roused about the same time. the marauders had gone up the narrow stairway into the kitchen, first lashing one end of a leather halter-strap about the knob of bitzer's door and the other to the base of the big refrigerator,--a needless precaution, as it took sustained and determined effort, as many a sentry on number could testify, to rouse bitzer from even a nap. it was no trick for the prowlers to softly raise the trap door leading to the kitchen, and, once there, the rest of the house was practically open. such a thing as burglary or sneak thieving about the officers' quarters had been unheard of at frayne for many a year. one precaution the visitors had taken, that of unbolting the back door, so that retreat might not be barred in case they were discovered. then they had gone swiftly and noiselessly about their work. but what had they taken? the silver was upstairs, intact, under mrs. blake's bed; so was the little safe in which was kept her jewelry and their valuable papers. books, bric-à-brac,--everything down stairs--seemed unmolested. no item was missing from its accustomed place. mrs. blake thought perhaps the intruders had not entered her room at all. in gerald's den were "stacks," as he said, of relics, souvenirs, trophies of chase and war, but no one thing of the intrinsic value of fifty dollars. what could have been the object of their midnight search? was the question all fort frayne was asking as people dispersed and went home,--the doctor intimating it was high time that mrs. blake was permitted to seek repose. not until he had practically cleared the house of all but her most intimate friends, mrs. dade and mrs. ray, would waller permit himself to ask a question that had been uppermost in his mind ever since he heard her story. "mrs. blake, someone has been ransacking mr. field's quarters for letters or papers. now,--was there anything of that kind left by the captain that--someone may have needed?" nannie blake's head was uplifted instantly from marion's shoulder. she had been beginning to feel the reaction. for one moment the three women looked intently into each other's faces. then up they started and trooped away into gerald's den. the doctor followed. the upper drawer of a big, flat-topped desk stood wide open, and pretty mrs. blake opened her eyes and mouth in emulation as she briefly exclaimed-- "it's gone!" then waller went forthwith to the quarters of the commander and caught him still in conference with his quartermaster and the guard, four or five of the latter being grouped without. the major retired to his front room, where, with wilkins, he received the doctor. "major flint," said waller, "those overcoats belong to mr. hay's stablemen,--pete and crapaud. will you order their immediate arrest?" "i would, doctor," was the answer, "but they are not at the corral. we know how to account for the hoofbeats in the valley. those scoundrels have got nearly an hour's start, and we've nobody to send in chase." then it presently appeared that the post commander desired to continue conference with his staff officer, for he failed to invite the post surgeon to be seated. indeed, he looked up into the doctor's kindling eyes with odd mixture of impatience and embarrassment in his own, and the veteran practitioner felt the slight, flushed instantly, and, with much _hauteur_ of manner, took prompt but ceremonious leave. and when morning came and fort frayne awoke to another busy day, as if the excitements of the night gone by had not been enough for it, a new story went buzzing, with the first call for guard mount, about the garrison; and, bigger even than yesterday, the two details, in soldier silence, began to gather in front of the infantry quarters. major flint had ordered sentries posted at the trader's home, with directions that mrs. hay was not to be allowed outside her gate, and no one, man or woman, permitted to approach her from without except by express permission of the post commander. "general harney" and "dan," the two best horses of the trader's stable, despite the presence of the sentry at the front, had been abstracted sometime during the earlier hours of the night, and later traced to the ford at stabber's old camp, and with pete and crapaud, doubtless, were gone. that day the major wired to omaha that he should be reinforced at once. one half his little force, he said, was now mounted each day for guard, and the men couldn't stand it. the general, of course, was in the field, but his chief of staff remained at headquarters and was empowered to order troops from post to post within the limits of the department. flint hoped two more companies could come at once, and he did not care what post was denuded in his favor. his, he said, was close to the indian lands,--separated from them, in fact, only by a narrow and fordable river. the indians were all on the warpath and, aware of his puny numbers, might be tempted at any moment to quit the mountains and concentrate on him. moreover, he was satisfied there had been frequent communication between their leaders and the household of the post trader at fort frayne. he was sure mrs. hay had been giving them valuable information, and he expected soon to be able to prove very serious charges against her. meantime, he had placed her under surveillance. (_that_ she had been ever since his coming, although she never realized it.) fancy the sensation created at omaha, where the hays were well known, when this news was received! flint did not say "under arrest," guarded day and night by a brace of sentries who were sorely disgusted with their duty. he had no doubt his appeals for more troops would be honored, in view of his strenuous representations, but the day passed without assurance to that effect and without a wired word to say his action regarding mrs. hay had been approved. it began to worry him. at p. m. mrs. hay sent and begged him to call upon her that she might assure and convince him of her innocence. but this the major found means to refuse, promising, however a meeting in the near future, after he had received tidings from the front, which he was awaiting and expecting every moment. he had reluctantly given permission to visit her to mrs. dade, mrs. ray and two or three other women whose hearts were filled with sympathy and sorrow, and their heads with bewilderment, over the amazing order. indeed, it was due to mrs. dade's advice that she so far triumphed over pride and wrath as to ask to see the major and explain. she had received tidings from her husband and nanette. she was perfectly willing to admit it,--to tell all about it,--and, now that pete and crapaud had turned out to be such unmitigated rascals, to have them caught and castigated, if caught they could be. but all this involved no disloyalty. they had always been friendly with the sioux and the sioux with them. everybody knew it;--no one better than general crook himself, and if he approved why should a junior disapprove? indeed, as she asked her friends, what junior who had ever known mr. hay and her, or the indians either, would be apt to disapprove so long as the indians, when on the warpath, received no aid or comfort from either her husband or herself? "and if they had," said she, further, waxing eloquent over her theme, "could we have _begun_ to give them half the aid or comfort--or a thousandth part of the supplies and ammunition--they got day after day through the paid agents of the interior department?" but these were questions army people could not properly discuss,--their mission in life being rather to submit to, than suggest, criticism. and so another restless day went by and no more news came from either front or rear--from the range to the north or rock springs at the south, and flint was just formulating another fervid appeal to that impassive functionary, the adjutant general at omaha, when toward evening word came whistling down the line in the person of master sanford ray, that two couriers were in sight "scooting" in from moccasin ridge, and flint and fully half the soldier strength of fort frayne gathered on the northward bluff like the "wan burghers" of ancient rome, to watch and speed their coming. who could tell what the day might yet bring forth? it was well nigh dark before the foremost reached the ford--a scout in worn and tawdry buckskin, wearied and impassive. he gave his despatch to the care of the first officer to accost him and took the way to the store, briefly saying in reply to questions, that he was "too dry to speak the truth." so they flocked, at respectful distance, about the major as he read the hurried lines. the general bade the post commander wire the entire message to washington, and to take all precautions for the protection of the few settlers about him. the columns under colonel henry and major webb had united near the head waters of the clear fork of the powder; had had a rattling running fight with lame wolf's people; had driven them into the mountains and were following hot on the trail, but that stabber's band and certain disaffected sioux had cut loose from the main body and gone south. whistling elk, a young chief of much ambition had quarrelled with certain of the red cloud element, and joined stabber, with his entire band. "look out for them and watch for signals any day or night from eagle butte." flint read with sinking heart. indian fighting was something far too scientific for his martial education and too much for his skeleton command. in the gathering dusk his face looked white and drawn, and old wilkins, breasting his way up the slope, puffed hard, as he begged for news. there was still another despatch, however, which was evidently adding to the major's perturbation, for it concerned him personally and for the moment wilkins went unheard. the general desires that you send the couriers back within twenty-four hours of their arrival, after you have had time to scout the line of the platte say twenty miles each way, giving full report of every indian seen or heard of. he enjoins vigilance and hopes to keep the sioux so busy that they can send no more in your direction. should they do so, however, he will pursue at once. he trusts that you are doing everything possible to comfort and reassure mrs. hay, and that you can send good news of lieutenant field. and this when he had just refused to remove the sentries or to visit mrs. hay:--this when he had just been told by dr. waller that lieutenant field was distinctly worse. "he is simply fretting his heart out here," were the doctor's words to him but a short time before, "and, while unable to mount a horse, he is quite strong enough now to take the trip by ambulance, slowly, that is, to rock springs. i fear his father is failing. i fear field will fail if not allowed to go. i recommend a seven days' leave, with permission to apply to omaha for thirty--he'll probably need it." "i can't permit government teams and ambulances to be used for any such purpose," said the major, stoutly. "it is distinctly against orders." "then, sir, he can go in my spring wagon and we'll hire mules from mrs. hay," was the doctor's prompt reply. "he can do no good here, major. he may do much good there." but flint was full of information and official zeal. the matter of field's going had been broached before, and, when told of it, the wilkins pair had been prompt with their protests. "of course he'd be wantin' to get away," said wilkins, "wid all that money to account for, let alone these other things." the irishman was hot against the young west pointer who had derided him. he doubtless believed his own words. he never dreamed how sorely the lad now longed to see his father,--how deep was his anxiety on that father's account,--how filled with apprehension on his own, for that rifled desk had brought him reason for most painful thought. wilkins and field had been antagonistic from the start. neither could see good in the other and, egged on by his worthy spouse's exhortations, the quartermaster had seized the opportunity to fill the post commander's too receptive mind with all his own suspicions--and this at a crucial time. "i can't listen to it, dr. waller," said the major, sternly. "here's a matter of near a thousand dollars that young man has got to answer for the moment he is well enough to stir. and if he can't account for it--you well know what my duty will demand." chapter xix a slap for the major the columns of colonel henry and major webb, as said "the chief," had united, and here were two men who could be counted on to push the pursuit "for all they were worth." hitherto, acting in the open country and free from encumbrance, the indians had been hard to reach. now they were being driven into their fastnesses among the mountains toward the distant shelter whither their few wounded had been conveyed, and where the old men, the women and children were in hiding. now it meant that, unless the troops could be confronted and thrown back, another transfer of tepees and _travois_, ponies and dogs, wounded and aged would have to be made. lame wolf had thought his people safe behind the walls of the big horn and the shifting screen of warriors along the foothills, but the blue skirmish lines pushed steadily on into the fringing pines, driving the feathered braves from ridge to ridge, and lame wolf had sense enough to see that here were leaders that "meant business" and would not be held. henry had ten veteran troops at his back when he united with webb, who led his own and the beecher squadron, making eighteen companies, or troops, of horse, with their pack mules, all out at the front, while the wagon train and ambulances were thoroughly guarded by a big battalion of sturdy infantry, nearly all of them good marksmen, against whose spiteful springfields the warriors made only one essay in force, and that was more than enough. the blue coats emptied many an indian saddle and strewed the prairie with ponies, and sent whistling elk and his people to the right about in sore dismay, and then it dawned on lame wolf that he must now either mislead the cavalry leader,--throw him off the track, as it were,--or move the villages, wounded, prisoners and all across the big horn river, where hereditary foemen, shoshone and absaraka, would surely welcome them red-handed. it was at this stage of the game he had his final split with stabber. stabber was shrewd, and saw unerringly that with other columns out--from custer on the little horn and washakie on the wind river,--with reinforcements coming from north and south, the surrounding of the sioux in arms would be but a matter of time. he had done much to get lame wolf into the scrape and now was urging hateful measures as, unless they were prepared for further and heavier losses, the one way out, and that way was--surrender. now, this is almost the last thing the indian will do. not from fear of consequences at the hands of his captors, for he well knows that, physically, he is infinitely better off when being coddled by uncle sam than when fighting in the field. it is simply the loss of _prestige_ among his fellow red men that he hates and dreads. therefore, nothing short of starvation or probable annihilation prompts him, as a rule, to yield himself a prisoner. stabber urged it rather than risk further battle and further loss, but stabber had long been jealous of the younger chief, envied him his much larger following and his record as a fighter, and stabber, presumably, would be only too glad to see him fallen from his high estate. they could then enjoy the hospitality of a generous nation (a people of born fools, said the unreasoning and unregenerate red man) all winter, and, when next they felt sufficiently slighted to warrant another issue on the warpath, they could take the field on equal terms. lame wolf, therefore, swore he'd fight to the bitter end. stabber swore he'd gather all his villagers, now herding with those of wolf; and, having segregated his sheep from the more numerous goats, would personally lead them whither the white man could not follow. at all events he made this quarrel the pretext for his withdrawal with full five score fighting men, and lame wolf cursed him roundly as the wretch deserved and, all short-handed now, with hardly five hundred braves to back him, bent his energies to checking henry's column in the heart of the wild hill country. and this was the situation when the general's first despatches were sent in to frayne,--this the last news to reach the garrison from the distant front for five long days, and then one morning, when the snow was sifting softly down, there came tidings that thrilled the little community, heart and soul--tidings that were heard with mingled tears and prayers and rejoicings, and that led to many a visit of congratulation to mrs. hay, who, poor woman, dare not say at the moment that she had known it all as much as twenty-four hours earlier, despite the fact that pete and crapaud were banished from the roll of her auxiliaries. even as the new couriers came speeding through the veil of falling flakes, riding jubilantly over the wide-rolling prairie with their news of victory and battle, the post commander at fort frayne was puzzling over a missive that had come to him, he knew not how, mysterious as the anarchists' warnings said to find their way to the very bedside of the guarded romanoffs. sentry number had picked it up on his post an hour before the dawn--a letter addressed in bold hand to major stanley flint, commanding fort frayne, and, presuming the major himself had dropped it, he turned it over to the corporal of his relief, and so it found its way toward reveillé into the hands of old mcgann, wheezing about his work of building fires, and michael laid it on the major's table and thought no more about it until two hours later, when the major roused and read, and then a row began that ended only with the other worries of his incumbency at frayne. secretly flint was still doing his best to discover the bearer when came the bold riders from the north with their thrilling news. secretly, he had been over at the guard-house interviewing as best he could, by the aid of an unwilling clerk who spoke a little sioux, a young indian girl whom crabb's convalescent squad, four in number, had most unexpectedly run down when sent scouting five miles up the platte, and brought, screaming, scratching and protesting back to frayne. her pony had been killed in the dash to escape, and the two indians with her seemed to be young lads not yet well schooled as warriors, for they rode away pellmell over the prairie, leaving the girl to the mercy of the soldiers. flint believed her to be connected in some way with the coming of the disturbing note, which was why he compelled her detention at the guard-house. under webb's _régime_ she would have been questioned by hay, or some one of his household. under flint, no one of hay's family or retainers could be allowed to see her. he regarded it as most significant that her shrillest screams and fiercest resistance should have been reserved until just as her guardians were bearing her past the trader's house. she had the little light prison room to herself all that wintry morning, and there, disdainful of bunk or chair, enveloped in her blanket, she squatted disconsolate, greeting all questioners with defiant and fearless shruggings and inarticulate protest. not a syllable of explanation, not a shred of news could their best endeavors wring from her. yet her glittering eyes were surely in search of some one, for she looked up eagerly every time the door was opened, and flint was just beginning to think he would have to send for mrs. hay when the couriers came with their stirring news and he had to drop other affairs in order to forward this important matter to headquarters. once again, it seems, trooper kennedy had been entrusted with distinguished duty, for it was he who came trotting foremost up the road, waving his despatch on high. a comrade from blake's troop, following through the ford, had turned to the left and led his horse up the steep to the quarters nearest the flagstaff. this time there was no big-hearted post commander to bid the irishman refresh himself _ad libitum_. flint was alone at his office at the moment, and knew not this strange trooper, and looked askance at his heterodox garb and war-worn guise. such laxity, said he to himself, was not permitted where _he_ had hitherto served, which was never on indian campaign. kennedy, having delivered his despatches, stood mutely expectant of question and struggling with an irishman's enthusiastic eagerness to tell the details of heady fight. but flint had but one method of getting at facts--the official reports--and kennedy stood unnoticed until, impatient at last, he queried:-- "beg pardon, sir, but may we put up our horses?" "who's we?" asked the major, bluntly. "and where are the others?" "trigg, sir--captain blake's troop. he went to the captain's quarters with a package." "he should have reported himself first to the post commander," said the major, who deemed it advisable to make prompt impression on these savage hunters of savage game. "thim wasn't his ordhers, surr," said kennedy, with zealous, but misguided loyalty to his comrades and his regiment. "no one has a right, sir, to give orders that are contrary in spirit to the regulations and customs of the service," answered the commander, with proper austerity. "mr. wilkins," he continued, as the burly quartermaster came bustling in, "have the other trooper sent to report at once to me and let this man wait outside till i am ready to see him." and so it happened that a dozen members of the garrison gathered, from the lips of a participant, stirring particulars of a spirited chase and fight that set soldiers to cheering and women and children to extravagant scenes of rejoicing before the official head of the garrison was fairly ready to give out the news. kennedy had taken satisfaction for the commander's slights by telling the tidings broadcast to the crowd that quickly gathered, and, in three minutes, the word was flying from lip to lip that the troops had run down lame wolf's main village after an all day, all night rush to head them off, and that with very small loss they had been able to capture many of the families and to scatter the warriors among the hills. in brief, while henry, with the main body, had followed the trail of the fighting band, webb had been detached and, with two squadrons, had ridden hard after a shoshone guide who led them by a short cut through the range and enabled them to pounce on the village where were most of lame wolf's noncombatants, guarded only by a small party of warriors, and, while captains billings and ray with their troops remained in charge of these captives, webb, with blake and the others had pushed on in pursuit of certain braves who had scampered into the thick of the hills, carrying a few of the wounded and prisoners with them. among those captured, or recaptured, were mr. hay and crapaud. among those who had been spirited away was nanette flower. this seemed strange and unaccountable. and yet blake had found time to write to his winsome wife,--to send her an important missive and most important bit of news. it was with these she came running in to mrs. ray before the latter had time to half read the long letter received from her soldier husband, and we take the facts in the order of their revelation. "think of it, maidie!" she cried. "think of it! gerald's first words, almost, are 'take good care of that pouch and contents,' and now pouch and contents are gone! whoever dreamed that they would be of such consequence? he says the newspaper will explain." and presently the two bonny heads were bent over the big sheets of a dingy, grimy copy of a philadelphia daily, and there, on an inner page, heavily marked, appeared a strange item, and this quaker city journal had been picked up in an ogalalla camp. the item read as follows: an untamed sioux the authorities of the carlisle school and the police of harrisburg are hunting high and low for a young indian known to the records of the academy as ralph moreau, but borne on the payrolls of buffalo bill's wild west aggregation as eagle wing--a youth who is credited with having given the renowned scout-showman more trouble than all his braves, bronchos and "busters" thereof combined. being of superb physique and a daring horseman, moreau had been forgiven many a peccadillo, and had followed the fortunes of the show two consecutive summers until cody finally had to get rid of him as an intolerable nuisance. it seems that when a lad of eighteen, "eagle wing" had been sent to carlisle, where he ran the gamut of scrapes of every conceivable kind. he spoke english picked up about the agencies; had influential friends and, in some clandestine way, received occasional supplies of money that enabled him to take french leave when he felt like it. he was sent back from carlisle to dakota as irreclaimable, and after a year or two on his native heath, reappeared among the haunts of civilization as one of buffalo bill's warriors. bill discharged him at cincinnati and, at the instance of the indian bureau, he was again placed at carlisle, only to repeat on a larger scale his earlier exploits and secure a second transfer to the plains, where his opportunities for devilment were limited. then cody was induced to take him on again by profuse promises of good behavior, which were kept until pennsylvania soil was reached two weeks ago, when he broke loose again; was seen in store clothes around west philadelphia for a few days, plentifully supplied with money, and next he turned up in the streets of carlisle, where he assaulted an attaché of the school, whose life was barely saved by the prompt efforts of other indian students. moreau escaped to harrisburg, which he proceeded to paint his favorite color that very night, and wound up the entertainment by galloping away on the horse of a prominent official, who had essayed to escort him back to carlisle. it is believed that he is now in hiding somewhere about the suburbs, and that an innate propensity for devilment will speedily betray him to the clutches of the law. a few moments after reading this oddly interesting story the two friends were in consultation with mrs. dade, who, in turn, called in dr. waller, just returning from the hospital and a not too satisfactory visit to mr. field. there had been a slight change for the better in the condition of general field that had enabled dr. lorain of fort russell and a local physician to arrange for his speedy transfer to cheyenne. this had in a measure relieved the anxiety of waller's patient, but never yet had the veteran practitioner permitted him to know that he was practically a prisoner as well as a patient. waller feared the result on so high-strung a temperament, and had made young field believe that, when strong and well enough to attempt the journey, he should be sent to rock springs. indeed, dr. waller had no intention of submitting to major flint's decision as final. he had written personally to the medical director of the department, acquainting him with the facts, and, meanwhile, had withdrawn himself as far as possible, officially and socially, from the limited circle in which moved his perturbed commanding officer. he was at a distant point of the garrison, therefore, and listening to the excited and vehement comments of the younger of the three women upon this strange newspaper story, and its possible connection with matters at frayne, at the moment when a dramatic scene was being enacted over beyond the guard-house. kennedy was still the center of a little group of eager listeners when pink marble, factotum of the trader's store, came hurrying forth from the adjutant's office, speedily followed by major flint. "you may tell mrs. hay that while i cannot permit her to visit the prisoner," he called after the clerk, "i will send the girl over--under suitable guard." to this mr. marble merely shrugged his shoulders and went on. he fancied flint no more than did the relics of the original garrison. a little later flint personally gave an order to the sergeant of the guard and then came commotion. first there were stifled sounds of scuffle from the interior of the guard-house; then shrill, wrathful screams; then a woman's voice unlifted in wild upbraidings in an unknown tongue, at sound of which trooper kennedy dropped his rein and his jaw, stood staring one minute; then, with the exclamation: "mother of god, but i know that woman!" burst his way through the crowd and ran toward the old log blockhouse at the gate,--the temporary post of the guard. just as he turned the corner of the building, almost stumbling against the post commander, there came bursting forth from the dark interior a young woman of the sioux, daring, furious, raging, and, breaking loose from the grasp of the two luckless soldiers who had her by the arms, away she darted down the road, still screaming like some infuriated child, and rushed straight for the open gateway of the hays. of course the guard hastened in pursuit, the major shouting "stop her! catch her!" and the men striving to appear to obey, yet shirking the feat of seizing the fleeing woman. fancy, then, the amaze of the swiftly following spectators when the trader's front door was thrown wide open and mrs. hay herself sprang forth. another instant and the two women had met at the gate. another instant still, and, with one motherly arm twining about the quivering, panting, pleading girl and straining her to the motherly heart, mrs. hay's right hand and arm flew up in the superb gesture known the wide frontier over as the indian signal "halt!" and halt they did, every mother's son save kennedy, who sprang to the side of the girl and faced the men in blue. and then another woman's voice, rich, deep, ringing, powerful, fell on the ears of the amazed, swift-gathering throng, with the marvellous order: "stand where you are! you shan't touch a hair of her head! she's a chief's daughter. she's my own kin and i'll answer for her to the general himself. as for you," she added, turning now and glaring straight at the astounded flint, all the pent-up sense of wrath, indignity, shame and wrong overmastering any thought of prudence or of "the divinity that doth hedge" the commanding officer, "as for you," she cried, "i pity you when our own get back again! god help you, stanley flint, the moment my husband sets eyes on you. d'you know the message that came to him this day?" and now the words rang louder and clearer, as she addressed the throng. "_i_ do, and so do officers and gentlemen who'd be shamed to have to shake hands with such as he. he's got my husband's note about him now, and what my husband wrote was this--'i charge myself with every dollar you charge to field, and with the further obligation of thrashing you on sight'--and, mark you, he'll do it!" chapter xx the sioux surrounded in the hush of the wintry night, under a leaden sky, with snowflakes falling thick and fast and mantling the hills in fleecy white, webb's column had halted among the sturdy pines, the men exchanging muttered, low-toned query and comment, the horses standing with bowed heads, occasionally pawing the soft coverlet and sniffing curiously at this filmy barrier to the bunch grass they sought in vain. they had feasted together, these comrade troopers and chargers, ere the sun went down,--the men on abundant rations of agency bacon, flour and brown sugar, found with black tailed deer and mountain sheep in abundance in the captured village, and eked out by supplies from the pack train,--the horses on big "blankets" of oats set before them by sympathetic friends and masters. then, when the skies were fairly dark, webb had ordered little fires lighted all along the bank of the stream, leaving the men of ray's and billings' troops to keep them blazing through the long night watches to create the impression among the lurking sioux that the whole force was still there, guarding the big village it had captured in the early afternoon, and then, in silence, the troopers had saddled and jogged away into the heart of the hills, close on the heels of their guides. there had been little time to look over the captures. the main interest of both officers and men, of course, centred in mr. hay, who was found in one of the tepees, prostrate from illness and half frantic from fever and strong mental excitement. he had later tidings from frayne, it seems, than had his rescuers. he could assure them of the health and safety of their wives and little ones, but would not tell them what was amiss in his own household. one significant question he asked: did any of them know this new major flint? no? well, god help flint, if ever he, hay, got hold of him. "he's delirious," whispered webb, and rode away in that conviction, leaving him to ray and billings. three miles out, on the tortuous trail of the pursued, the column halted and dismounted among the pines. then there was brief conference, and the word "mount" was whispered along the beecher squadron, while blake's men stood fast. with a parting clasp of the hand webb and "legs" had returned to the head of their respective commands, "legs" and his fellows to follow steadily the indian trail through the twisting ravines of the foothills; webb to make an all-night forced march, in wide _détour_ and determined effort, to head off the escaping warriors before they could reach the rocky fastnesses back of bear cliff. webb's chief scout "bat," chosen by general crook himself, had been a captive among the sioux through long years of his boyhood, and knew the big horn range as webb did the banks of the wabash. "they can stand off a thousand soldiers," said the guide, "if once they get into the rocks. they'd have gone there first off only there was no water. now there's plenty snow." so blake's instructions were to follow them without pushing, to let them feel they were being pursued, yet by no means to hasten them, and, if the general's favorite scout proved to be all he promised as guide and pathfinder, webb might reasonably hope by dint of hard night riding, to be first at the tryst at break of day. then they would have the retreating sioux, hampered by their few wounded and certain prisoners whom they prized, hemmed between rocky heights on every side, and sturdy horsemen front and rear. it was eight by the watch at the parting of the ways. it was : when blake retook the trail, with sergeants schreiber and winsor, the latter borrowed from ray, far in the van. even had the ground been hard and stony these keen-eyed soldier scouts could have followed the signs almost as unerringly as the indians, for each had had long years of experience all over the west; but, despite the steadily falling snow, the traces of hoofs and, for a time, of _travois_ poles could be readily seen and followed in the dim gray light of the blanketed skies. somewhere aloft, above the film of cloud, the silvery moon was shining, and that was illumination more than enough for men of their years on the trail. for over an hour blake followed the windings of a ravine that grew closer and steeper as it burrowed into the hills. old game trails are as good as turnpikes in the eyes of the plainsman. it was when the ravine began to split into branches that the problem might have puzzled them, had not the white fleece lain two inches deep on the level when "lo" made his dash to escape. now the rough edges of the original impression were merely rounded over by the new fallen snow. the hollows and ruts and depressions led on from one deep cleft into another, and by midnight blake felt sure the quarry could be but a few miles ahead and bear cliff barely five hours' march away. so, noiselessly, the signal "halt!" went rearward down the long, dark, sinuous column of twos, and every man slipped out of saddle--some of them stamping, so numb were their feet. with every mile the air had grown keener and colder. they were glad when the next word whispered was, "lead on" instead of "mount." by this time they were far up among the pine-fringed heights, with the broad valley of the big horn lying outspread to the west, invisible as the stars above, and neither by ringing shot nor winged arrow had the leaders known the faintest check. it seemed as though the indians, in their desperate effort to carry off the most important or valued of their charges, were bending all their energies to expediting the retreat. time enough to turn on the pursuers when once the rocks had closed about them,--when the wounded were safe in the fastnesses, and the pursuers far from supports. but, at the foot of a steep ascent, the two leading scouts,--rival sergeants of rival troops but devoted friends for nearly twenty years,--were seen by the next in column, a single corporal following them at thirty yards' distance, to halt and begin poking at some dark object by the wayside. then they pushed on again. a dead pony, under a quarter inch coverlet of snow, was what met the eyes of the silently trudging command as it followed. the high-peaked wooden saddle tree was still "cinched" to the stiffening carcass. either the indians were pushed for time or overstocked with saddlery. presently there came a low whistle from the military "middleman" between the scouts and a little advance guard. "run ahead," growled the sergeant commanding to his boy trumpeter. "give me your reins." and, leaving his horse, the youngster stumbled along up the winding trail; got his message and waited. "give this to the captain," was the word sent back by schreiber, and "this" was a mitten of indian tanned buckskin, soft and warm if unsightly, a mitten too small for a warrior's hand, if ever warrior deigned to wear one,--a mitten the captain examined curiously, as he ploughed ahead of his main body, and then returned to his subaltern with a grin on his face: "beauty draws us with a single hair," said he, "and can't shake us even when she gives us the mitten. ross," he added, after a moment's thought, "remember this. with this gang there are two or three sub-chiefs that we should get, alive or dead, but the chief end of man, so far as 'k' troop's concerned, is to capture that girl, unharmed." and just at dawn, so gray and wan and pallid it could hardly be told from the pale moonlight of the earlier hours, the dark, snake-like column was halted again, nine miles further in among the wooded heights. with bear cliff still out of range and sight, something had stopped the scouts, and blake was needed at the front. he found schreiber crouching at the foot of a tree, gazing warily forward along a southward-sloping face of the mountain that was sparsely covered with tall, straight pines, and that faded into mist a few hundred yards away. the trail,--the main trail, that is,--seemed to go straight away eastward, and, for a short distance, downward through a hollow or depression; while, up the mountain side to the left, the north, following the spur or shoulder, there were signs as of hoof tracks, half sheeted by the new-fallen snow, and through this fresh, fleecy mantlet ploughed the trooper boots in rude, insistent pursuit. the sergeants' horses were held by a third soldier a few yards back behind the spur, for winsor was "side scouting" up the heights. the snowfall had ceased for a time. the light was growing broader every moment, and presently a soft whistle sounded somewhere up the steep, and schreiber answered. "he wants us, sir," was all he said, and in five minutes they had found him, sprawled on his stomach on a projecting ledge, and pointing southeastward, where, boldly outlined against the gray of the morning sky, a black and beetling precipice towered from the mist-wreathed pines at its base. bear cliff beyond a doubt! "how far, sergeant?" asked the captain, never too reliant on his powers of judging distance. "five miles, sir, at least; yet some three or four indians have turned off here and gone--somewhere up there." and, rolling half over, winsor pointed again toward a wooded bluff, perhaps three hundred feet higher and half a mile away. "that's probably the best lookout this side of the cliff itself!" he continued, in explanation, as he saw the puzzled look on the captain's face. "from there, likely, they can see the trail over the divide--the one little bat is leading the major and, if they've made any time at all, the squadron should be at bear cliff now." they were crawling to him by this time, blake and schreiber, among the stunted cedars that grew thickly along the rocky ledge. winsor, flat again on his stomach, sprawled like a squirrel close to the brink. every moment as the skies grew brighter the panorama before them became more extensive, a glorious sweep of highland scenery, of boldly tossing ridges east and south and west--the slopes all mantled, the trees all tipped, with nature's ermine, and studded now with myriad gems, taking fire at the first touch of the day god's messenger, as the mighty king himself burst his halo of circling cloud and came peering over the low curtain far at the eastward horizon. chill and darkness and shrouding vapor vanished all in a breath as he rose, dominant over countless leagues of wild, unbroken, yet magnificent mountain landscape. "worth every hour of watch and mile of climb!" muttered blake. "but it's indians, not scenery, we're after. what are we here for, winsor?" and narrowly he eyed ray's famous right bower. "if the major got there first, sir,--and i believe he did,--they have to send the prisoners and wounded back this way." "then we've got 'em!" broke in schreiber, low-toned, but exultant. "look sir," he added, as he pointed along the range. "they are signalling now." from the wooded height ten hundred yards away, curious little puffs of smoke, one following another, were sailing straight for the zenith, and blake, screwing his field glasses to the focus, swept with them the mountain side toward the five-mile distant cliff, and presently the muscles about his mouth began to twitch--sure sign with blake of gathering excitement. "you're right, sergeant," he presently spoke, repressing the desire to shout, and striving, lest winsor should be moved to invidious comparisons, to seem as _nonchalant_ as billy ray himself. "they're coming back already." then down the mountain side he dove to plan and prepare appropriate welcome, leaving winsor and the glasses to keep double powered watch on the situation. six-fifty of a glorious, keen november morning, and sixty troopers of the old regiment were distributed along a spur that crossed, almost at right angles, the line of the indian trail. sixty fur-capped, rough-coated fellows, with their short brown carbines in hand, crouching behind rocks and fallen trees, keeping close to cover and warned to utter silence. behind them, two hundred yards away, their horses were huddled under charge of their disgusted guards, envious of their fellows at the front, and cursing hard their luck in counting off as number four. schreiber had just come sliding, stumbling, down from winsor's perch to say they could hear faint sound of sharp volleying far out to the eastward, where the warriors, evidently, were trying to "stand off" webb's skirmish line until the _travois_ with the wounded and the escort of the possible prisoners should succeed in getting back out of harm's way and taking surer and higher trail into the thick of the wilderness back of bear cliff. "some of 'em must come in sight here in a minute, sir," panted the veteran sergeant. "we could see them plainly up there--a mule litter and four _travois_, and there must be a dozen in saddle." a dozen there were, for along the line of crouching men went sudden thrill of excitement. shoulders began to heave; nervous thumbs bore down on heavy carbine hammers, and there was sound of irrepressible stir and murmur. out among the pines, five hundred yards away, two mounted indians popped suddenly into view, two others speedily following, their well-nigh exhausted ponies feebly shaking their shaggy, protesting heads, as their riders plied the stinging quirt or jabbed with cruel lance; only in painful jog trot could they zig zag through the trees. then came two warriors, leading the pony of a crippled comrade. "don't fire--don't harm them! fall back from the trail there and let them in. they'll halt the moment they see our tracks! get 'em alive, if possible!" were blake's rapid orders, for his eyes were eagerly fixed on other objects beyond these dejected leaders--upon stumbling mules, lashed fore and aft between long, spliced saplings and bearing thus a rude litter--hay's pet wheelers turned to hospital use. an indian boy, mounted, led the foremost mule; another watched the second; while, on each side of the occupant of this sioux palanquin, jogged a blanketed rider on jaded pony. here was a personage of consequence--luckier much than these others following, dragged along on _travois_ whose trailing poles came jolting over stone or hummock along the rugged path. it was on these that blake's glittering eyes were fastened. "pounce on the leaders, you that are nearest!" he ordered, in low, telling tones, the men at his left; then turned to schreiber, crouching close beside him, the fringe of his buckskin hunting shirt quivering over his bounding heart. "there's the prize i want," he muttered low. "whatever you do, let no shot reach that litter. charge with me the moment the leaders yell. you men to the right," he added, slightly raising his voice, "be ready to jump with me. don't shoot anybody that doesn't show fight. nab everything in sight." [illustration: "charge with me the moment the leaders yell."] "whoo-oop!" all in a second the mountain woke, the welkin rang, to a yell of warning from the lips of the leading sioux. all in a second they whirled their ponies about and darted back. all in that second blake and his nearmost sprang to their feet and flung themselves forward straight for the startled convoy. in vain the few warriors bravely rallied about their foremost wounded; the unwieldy litter could not turn about; the frantic mules, crazed by the instant pandemonium of shouts and shots,--the onward rush of charging men,--the awful screams of a brace of squaws, broke from their leading reins; crashed with their litter against the trees, hurling the luckless occupant to earth. back drove the unhit warriors before the dash of the cheering line. down went first one pony, then a second, in his bloody tracks. one after another, litter, _travois_, wounded and prisoner, was clutched and seized by stalwart hands, and blake, panting not a little, found himself bending staring over the prostrate form flung from the splintered wreck of the litter, a form writhing in pain that forced no sound whatever from between grimly clinching teeth, yet that baffled effort, almost superb, to rise and battle still--a form magnificent in its proportions, yet helpless through wounds and weakness. not the form blake thought to see, of shrinking, delicate, dainty woman, but that of the furious warrior who thrice had dared him on the open field--the red brave well known to him by sight and deed within the moon now waning, but, only within the day gone by, revealed to him as the renegade ralph moreau,--eagle wing of the ogalalla sioux. where then was nanette? "look out for this man, corporal!" he called, to a shouting young trooper. "see that no harm comes to him." then quickly he ran on to the huddle of _travois_. something assured him she could not be far away. the first drag litter held another young warrior, sullen and speechless like the foremost. the next bore a desperately wounded brave whose bloodless lips were compressed in agony and dumb as those of the dead. about these cowered, shivering and whimpering, two or three terror-stricken squaws, one of them with a round-eyed pappoose staring at her back. a pony lay struggling in the snow close by. half a dozen rough soldier hands were dragging a stricken rider from underneath. half a dozen more were striving to control the wild plungings of another mettlesome little beast, whose rider, sitting firmly astride, lashed first at his quivering flank and then at the fur gauntleted hands,--even at the laughing, bearded faces--sure sign of another squaw, and a game one. far out to the front the crackle of carbine and rifle told that webb was driving the scattered braves before him,--that the comrade squadron was coming their way,--that bear cliff had been sought by the sioux in vain,--that indian wiles and strategy, indian pluck and staying power, all had more than met their match. whatever the fate of lame wolf's fighting force, now pressed by henry's column, far in the southward hills, here in sight of the broad big horn valley, the white chief had struck a vital blow. village, villagers, wounded and prisoners were all the spoil of the hated soldiery. here at the scene of blake's minor affair there appeared still in saddle just one undaunted, unconquered amazon whose black eyes flashed through the woolen hood that hid the rest of her face, whose lips had uttered as yet no sound, but from whom two soldiers recoiled at the cry of a third. "look at the hand of her, fellers! it's whiter than mine!" "that's all right, lanigan," answered the jovial voice of the leader they loved and laughed with. "hold that pony steady. now, by your-ladyship's leave," and two long, sinewy arms went circling about the shrinking rider's waist, and a struggling form was lifted straightway out of saddle and deposited, not too gracefully, on its moccasined feet. "we will remove this one impediment to your speech," continued blake, whereat the muffling worsted was swiftly unwound, "and then we will listen to our meed of thanks. ah, no wonder you did not need a side-saddle that night at frayne. you ride admirably _à califourchon_. my compliments, mademoiselle la fleur; or should i say--madame moreau." for all answer blake received one quick, stinging slap in the face from that mittenless little right hand. chapter xxi thanksgiving at frayne thanksgiving day at frayne! much of the garrison was still afield, bringing back to their lines and, let us hope, to their senses, the remnant of stabber's band, chased far into the sweetwater hills before they would stop, while henry's column kept lame wolf in such active movement the misnamed chieftain richly won his later sobriquet "the skipper." the general had come whirling back from beecher in his concord wagon, to meet mr. hay as they bore that invalid homeward from the big horn. between the fever-weakened trader and the famous frontier soldier there had been brief conference--all that the doctors felt they could allow--and then the former had been put to bed under the care of his devoted wife, while the latter, without so much as sight of a pillow, had set forth again out sweetwater way to wind up the campaign. this time he went in saddle, sending his own team over the range of the medicine bow to carry a convalescent subaltern to the side of a stricken father; the sender ignorant, possibly, of the post commander's prohibition; ignoring it, if, as probable, it was known to him. the good old doctor himself had bundled the grateful lad and sent a special hospital attendant with him. mrs. dade and her devoted allies up the row had filled with goodies a wonderful luncheon basket, while mrs. hay had sent stores of wine for the use of both invalids, and had come down herself to see the start, for, without a word indicative of reproof, the general had bidden flint remove the blockade, simply saying he would assume all responsibility, both for mrs. hay and the young indian girl, given refuge under the trader's roof until the coming of her own people still out with stabber's band. flint could not fathom it. he could only obey. and now, with the general gone and beverly field away, with hay home and secluded, by order, from all questioning or other extraneous worry; with the wounded soldiers safely trundled into hospital, garrison interest seemed to centre for the time mainly in that little ogalalla maid--flint's sole sioux captive--who was housed, said the much interrogated domestic, in mrs. hay's own room instead of miss flower's, while the lady of the house, when she slept at all, occupied a sofa near her husband's bedside. then came the tidings that blake, with the prisoners from no wood creek and bear cliff was close at hand, and everybody looked with eager eyes for the coming across the snowy prairie of that homeward bound convoy--that big village of the sioux, with its distinguished captives, wounded and unwounded; one of the former, the young sub-chief eagle wing, alias moreau;--one of the latter a self-constituted martyr, since she was under no official restraint,--nanette flower, hovering ever about the litter bearing that sullen and still defiant brave, whose side she refused to leave. not until they reached fort frayne; not until the surgeon, after careful examination, declared there was no need of taking moreau into hospital,--no reason why he should not be confined in the prison room of the guard-house,--were they able to induce the silent, almost desperate girl to return to her aunt. not until nanette realized that her warrior was to be housed within wooden walls whence she would be excluded, could mrs. hay, devoted to the last, persuade the girl to reoccupy her old room and to resume the dress of civilization. barring that worsted hood, she was habited like a chieftain's daughter, in gaily beaded and embroidered garments, when recaptured by blake's command. once within the trader's door, she had shut herself in her old room, the second floor front, refusing to see anybody from outside the house, unless she could be permitted to receive visits from the captive sioux, and this the major, flintily, forebade. it was nightfall when the litter-bearers reached the post, hay's rejoicing mules braying unmelodious ecstasy at sight of their old stable. it was dark when the wounded chief was borne into the guard-house, uttering not a sound, and nanette was led within the trader's door, yet someone had managed to see her face, for the story went all over the wondering post that very night,--women flitting with it from door to door,--that every vestige of her beauty was gone;--she looked at least a dozen years older. blake, when questioned, after the first rapture of the home-coming had subsided, would neither affirm nor deny. "she would neither speak to me nor harken," said he, whimsically. "the only thing she showed was teeth and--temper." then presently they sent a lot of the sioux--stabber's villagers and lame wolf's combined,--by easy stages down the platte to laramie, and then around by rawhide and the niobrara to the old red cloud agency, there to be fed and coddled and cared for, wounded warriors and all, except a certain few, including this accomplished orator and chieftain, convalescing under guard at frayne. about his case there hung details and complications far too many and intricate to be settled short of a commission. already had the tidings of this most important capture reached the distant east. already both indian bureau and peace societies had begun to wire the general in the field and "work" the president and the press at home. forgotten was the fact that he had been an intolerable nuisance to buffalo bill and others who had undertaken to educate and civilize him. the wild west show was now amazing european capitals and, therefore, beyond consulting distance. forgotten were escapades at harrisburg, carlisle and philadelphia. suppressed were circumstances connecting him with graver charges than those of repeated roistering and aggravated assault. ignored, or as yet unheard, were the details of his reappearance on the frontier in time to stir up most of the war spirit developed that september, and to take a leading part in the fierce campaign that followed. he was a pupil of the nation, said the good people of the indian friends societies--a youth of exceptional intelligence and promise, a son of the sioux whose influence would be of priceless value could he be induced to complete his education and accept the views and projects of his eastern admirers. it would never do to let his case be settled by soldiers, settlers and cowboys, said philanthropy. they would hang him, starve him, break his spirit at the very least. (they were treating him particularly well just now, as he had sense enough to see.) there must be a deputation,--a committee to go out at once to the west, with proper credentials, per diem, mileage and clerks, to see to it that these unfortunate children of the mountain and prairie were accorded fair treatment and restored to their rights, especially this brilliant young man moreau. the general was beyond reach and reasoning with, but there was flint, eminent for his piety, and untrammelled in command; flint, with aspirations of his own, the very man to welcome such influence as theirs, and, correspondingly, to give ear to their propositions. two days after the safe lodgment of eagle wing behind the bars, the telegrams were coming by dozens, and one week after that deserved incarceration fort frayne heard with mild bewilderment the major's order for moreau's transfer to the hospital. by that time letters, too, were beginning to come, and, two nights after this removal to the little room but lately occupied by lieutenant field--this very thanksgiving night, in fact,--the single sentry at the door stood attention to the commanding officer, who in person ushered in a womanly form enveloped in hooded cloak, and with bowed head nanette flower passed within the guarded portal, which then closed behind her and left her alone with her wounded brave. blake and billings had been sent on to red cloud, guarding the presumably repentant ogalallas. webb, ray, gregg and ross were still afield, in chase of stabber. dade, with four companies of infantry, was in the big horn guarding henry's wagon train. there was no one now at frayne in position to ask the new commander questions, for dr. waller had avoided him in every possible way, but waller had nobly done the work of his noble profession. moreau, or eagle wing, was mending so very fast there was no reason whatever why the doctor should object to his receiving visitors. it was flint alone who would be held responsible if anything went wrong. yet fort frayne, to a woman, took fire at the major's action. two days previous he might have commanded the support of mrs. wilkins, but nanette herself had spoiled all chance of that. it seems the lady had been to call at mrs. hay's the previous day--that mrs. hay had begged to be excused,--that mrs. wilkins had then persisted, possibly as a result of recent conference with flint, and had bidden the servant say she'd wait until miss flower could come down, and so sailed on into the parlor, intent on seeing all she could of both the house and its inmates. but not a soul appeared. mrs. hay was watching over her sleeping husband, whose slow recovery flint was noting with unimpatient eye. voices low, yet eager, could be heard aloft in nanette's room. the servant, when she came down, had returned without a word to the inner regions about the kitchen, and mrs. wilkins's wait became a long one. at last the domestic came rustling through the lower floor again, and mrs. wilkins hailed. both were irish, but one was the wife of an officer and long a power, if not indeed a terror, in the regiment. the other feared the quartermaster's wife as little as mrs. wilkins feared the colonel's, and, when ordered to stand and say why she brought no answer from miss flower, declined to stand, but decidedly said she brought none because there was none. "did ye tell her i'd wait?" said mrs. wilkins. "i did," said miss mcgrath, "an' she said 'let her,' an' so i did." then in came mrs. hay imploring hush, and, with rage in her hibernian heart, the consort of the quartermaster came away. there was not one woman in all fort frayne, therefore, to approve the major's action in permitting this wild girl to visit the wilder indian patient. mrs. hay knew nothing of it because nanette well understood that there would be lodged objection that she dare not disregard--her uncle's will. one other girl there was, that night at frayne, who marked her going and sought to follow and was recalled, restrained at the very threshold by the sound of a beloved voice softly, in the sioux tongue, calling her name. one other girl there was who knew not of her going, who shrank from thought of meeting her at any time,--in any place,--and yet was destined to an encounter fateful in its results in every way. just as tattoo was sounding on the infantry bugle, esther dade sat reading fairy stories at the children's bedside in the quarters of sergeant foster, of her father's company. there had been thanksgiving dinner with mrs. ray, an amazonian feast since all their lords were still away on service, and sandy ray and billy, jr., were perhaps too young to count. dinner was all over by eight o'clock, and, despite some merry games, the youngsters' eyes were showing symptoms of the sandman's coming, when that privileged character, hogan, ray's long-tried trooper now turned _major domo_, appeared at the doorway of the little army parlor. he had been bearer of a lot of goodies to the children among the quarters of the married soldiers, and now, would mrs. dade please speak with mrs. foster, who had come over with him, and mrs. dade departed for the kitchen forthwith. presently she returned. "i'm going back awhile with mrs. foster," said she. "she's sitting up to-night with poor mrs. wing, who--" but there was no need of explanation. they all knew. they had laid so recently their wreaths of evergreen on the grave of the gallant soldier who fell, fighting at the elk, and now another helpless little soul had come to bear the buried name, and all that were left for mother and babe was woman's boundless charity. it was thanksgiving night, and while the wail of the bereaved and stricken went up from more than one of these humble tenements below the eastward bluff, there were scores of glad and grateful hearts that lifted praise and thanksgiving to the throne on high, even though they knew not at the moment but that they, too, might, even then, be robbed of all that stood between them and desolation. once it happened in the story of our hard-fighting, hard-used little army that a bevy of fair young wives, nearly half a score in number, in all the bravery of their summer toilets, sat in the shadow of the flag, all smiles and gladness and applause, joining in the garrison festivities on the nation's natal day, never dreaming of the awful news that should fell them ere the coming of another sun; that one and all they had been widowed more than a week; that the men they loved, whose names they bore, lay hacked and mutilated beyond recognition within sight of those very hills where now the men from frayne were facing the same old foe. in the midst of army life we are, indeed, in death, and the thanksgiving of loving ones about the fireside for mercies thus far shown, is mingled ever with the dread of what the morrow may unfold. "let me go, too, mamma," was esther's prompt appeal, as she heard her mother's words. "i can put the children to bed while you and mrs. foster are over there." and so with hogan, lantern bearing, mother and daughter had followed the sergeant's wife across the broad, snow-covered parade; had passed without comment, though each was thinking of the new inmate, the brightly-lighted hospital building on the edge of the plateau, and descended the winding pathway to the humble quarters of the married soldiers, nestling in the sheltered flats between the garrison proper and the bold bluffs that again close bordered the rushing stream. and here at sergeant foster's doorway esther parted from the elders, and was welcomed by shrieks of joy from three sturdy little cherubs--the sergeant's olive branches, and here, as the last notes of tattoo went echoing away under the vast and spangled sky, one by one her charges closed their drooping lids and dropped to sleep and left their gentle friend and reader to her own reflections. there was a soldier dance that night in one of the vacant messrooms. flint's two companies were making the best of their isolation, and found, as is not utterly uncommon, quite a few maids and matrons among the households of the absent soldiery quite willing to be consoled and comforted. there were bright lights, therefore, further along the edge of the steep, beyond those of the hospital, and the squeak of fiddle and drone of 'cello, mingled with the plaintive piping of the flute, were heard at intervals through the silence of the wintry night. no tramp of sentry broke the hush about the little rift between the heights--the major holding that none was necessary where there were so many dogs. most of the soldiers' families had gone to the dance; all of the younger children were asleep; even the dogs were still, and so, when at ten o'clock esther tiptoed from the children's bedside and stood under the starlight, the murmur of the platte was the only sound that reached her ears until, away over at the southwest gate the night guards began the long-drawn heralding of the hour. "ten o'clock and all's well" it went from post to post along the west and northward front, but when number six, at the quartermaster's storehouse near the southeast corner, should have taken up the cry where it was dropped by number five, afar over near the flagstaff, there was unaccountable silence. six did not utter a sound. looking up from the level of "sudstown," as it had earlier been named, esther could see the black bulk of the storehouse close to the edge of the plateau. between its westward gable end and the porch of the hospital lay some fifty yards of open space, and through this gap now gleamed a spangled section of the western heavens. along the bluff, just under the crest, ran a pathway that circled the southeastward corner and led away to the trader's store, south of the post. tradition had it that the track was worn by night raiders, bearing contraband fluids from store to barracks in the days before such traffic was killed by that common sense promoter of temperance, soberness and chastity--the post exchange. along that bluff line, from the storehouse toward the hospital, invisible, doubtless, from either building or from the bluff itself, but thrown in sharp relief against that rectangular inlet of starry sky, two black figures, crouching and bearing some long, flat object between them, swift and noiseless were speeding toward the hospital. the next instant they were lost in the black background of that building. then, as suddenly and a moment later, one of them reappeared, just for a moment, against the brightly lighted window,--the southernmost window on the easterward side--the window of the room that had been beverly field's--the window of the room now given over to eagle wing, the sioux,--the captive for whose safe keeping a special sentry within the building, and this strangely silent number six without, were jointly responsible. then that silhouetted figure was blotted from her sight in general darkness, for the lights within as suddenly went out. and at that very moment a sound smote upon her ear, unaccountable at that hour and that side of the garrison--hoofbeats swiftly coming down into the hollow from the eastward bluff,--hoofbeats and low, excited voices. foster's little house was southernmost of the settlement. the ground was open between it and the heights, and despite the low, cautious tones, esther heard the foremost rider's muttered, angering words. "dam fool! crazy! heap crazy! too much hurry. ought t' let him call off first!" then an answer in guttural sioux. and then in an instant it dawned upon the girl that here was new crime, new bloodshed, perhaps, and a plot to free a villianous captive. her first thought was to scream for aid, but what aid could she summon? not a man was within hail except these, the merciless haters of her race and name. to scream would be to invite their ready knives to her heart--to the heart of any woman who might rush to her succor. the cry died in her throat, and, trembling with dread and excitement, she clung to the door post and crouched and listened, for stifled mutterings could be heard, a curse or two in vigorous english, a stamping of impatient ponies, a warning in a woman's tone. then, thank god! up at the storehouse corner a light came dancing into view. in honest soldier tones boomed out the query "what's the matter, six?" and then, followed by a scurry of hoofs, a mad lashing of quirts, a scramble and rush of frightened steeds, and a cursing of furious tongues, her own brave young voice rang out on the night. "this way, sergeant! help--quick!" black forms of mounts and riders sped desperately away, and then with all the wiry, sinewy strength of her lithe and slender form, esther hurled herself upon another slender figure, speeding after these, afoot. desperately she clung to it in spite of savage blows and strainings. and so they found her, as forth they came,--a rush of shrieking, startled, candle-bearing women,--of bewildered and unconsciously blasphemous men of the guard--her arms locked firmly about a girl in semi-savage garb. the villain of the drama had been whisked away, leaving the woman who sought to save him to the mercy of the foe. chapter xxii behind the bars in the whirl and excitement following the startling outcry from the flats, all fort frayne was speedily involved. the guard came rushing through the night, corporal shannon stumbling over a prostrate form,--the sentry on number six, gagged and bound. the steward shouted from the hospital porch that eagle wing, the prisoner patient, had escaped through the rear window, despite its height above the sloping ground. a little ladder, borrowed from the quartermaster's corral, was found a moment later. an indian pony, saddled sioux fashion, was caught running, riderless, toward the trader's back gate, his horsehair bridle torn half way from his shaggy head. sergeant crabb, waiting for no orders from the major, no sooner heard that moreau was gone, than he rushed his stable guard to the saddleroom, and in fifteen minutes had, not only his own squad, but half a dozen "casual" troopers circling the post in search of the trail, and in less than half an hour was hot in chase of two fleeing horsemen, dimly seen ahead through the starlight, across the snowy wastes. that snowfall was the sioux's undoing. without it the trail would have been invisible at night. with it, the pursued were well-nigh hopeless from the start. precious time had been lost in circling far out south of the post before making for the ford, whither crabb's instinct sent him at once, to the end that he and two of his fellows ploughed through the foaming waters, barely five hundred yards behind the chase, and, as they rode vehemently onward through the starlight, straining every nerve, they heard nothing of the happenings about the fosters' doorway, where by this time post commander, post surgeon, post quartermaster and acting post adjutant, post ordnance, quartermaster and commissary sergeants, many of the post guard and most of the post laundresses had gathered--some silent, anxious and bewildered, some excitedly babbling; while, within the sergeant's domicile, esther dade, very pale and somewhat out of breath, was trying with quiet self possession to answer the myriad questions poured at her, while dr. waller was ministering to the dazed and moaning sentry, and, in an adjoining tenement, a little group had gathered about an unconscious form. someone had sent for mrs. hay, who was silently, tearfully chafing the limp and almost lifeless hands of a girl in indian garb. the cloak and skirts of civilization had been found beneath the window of the deserted room, and were exhibited as a means of bringing to his senses a much bewildered major, whose first words on entering the hut gave rise to wonderment in the eyes of most of his hearers, and to an impulsive reply from the lips of mrs. hay. "i warned the general that girl would play us some indian trick, but he ordered her release," said flint, and with wrathful emphasis came the answer. "the general warned you _this_ girl would play you a trick, and, thanks to no one but you, she's done it!" then rising and stepping aside, the long-suffering woman revealed the pallid, senseless face,--not of the little indian maid, her shrinking charge and guest,--but of the niece she loved and had lived and lied for many and trying years--nanette la fleur, a long-lost sister's only child. so blake knew what he was talking about that keen november morning among the pines at bear cliff. he had unearthed an almost forgotten legend of old fort laramie. but the amaze and discomfiture of the temporary post commander turned this night of thanksgiving, so far as he was concerned, into something purgatorial. the sight of his sentry, bound, gagged and bleeding,--the discovery of the ladder and of the escape of the prisoner, for whom he was accountable, had filled him with dismay, yet for the moment failed to stagger his indomitable self esteem. there had been a plot, of course, and the instant impulse of his soul was to fix the blame on others and to free himself. an indian trick, of course, and who but the little indian maid within the trader's gates could be the instrument! through her, of course, the conspirators about the post had been enabled to act. she was the general's _protegée_, not his, and the general must shoulder the blame. even when flint saw nanette, self convicted through her very garb and her presence at the scene of the final struggle,--even when assured it was she and not the little ogalalla girl who had been caught in the act,--that the latter, in fact, had never left the trader's house, his disproportioned mind refused to grasp the situation. nanette, he declared, with pallid face, "must have been made a victim." "nothing could have been farther from her thoughts than complicity in the escape of eagle wing." "she had every reason to desire his restoration to health, strength and to the fostering care of the good and charitable body of christian people interested in his behalf." "all this would be endangered by his attempt to rejoin the warriors on the warpath." the major ordered the instant arrest of the sentry stationed at the door of the hospital room--shut out by the major's own act from all possibility of seeing what was going on within. he ordered under arrest the corporal of the relief on post for presumable complicity, and, mindful of a famous case of ethiopian skill then new in the public mind, demanded of dr. waller that he say in so many words that the gag and wrist thongs on the prostrate sentry had not been self applied. waller impassively pointed to the huge lump at the base of the sufferer's skull, "gag and bonds he might have so placed, after much assiduous practice," said he, "but no man living could hit himself such a blow at the back of the head." "who could have done it, then?" asked flint. it was inconceivable to waller's mind that any one of the soldiery could have been tempted to such perfidy for an indian's sake. there was not at the moment an indian scout or soldier at the post, or an indian warrior, not a prisoner, unaccounted for. there had been halfbreeds hanging about the store prior to the final escapade of pete and crapaud, but these had realized their unpopularity after the battle on the elk, and had departed for other climes. crapaud was still under guard. pete was still at large, perchance, with stabber's braves. there was not another man about the trader's place whom flint or others could suspect. yet the sergeant of the guard, searching cautiously with his lantern about the post of number six, had come upon some suggestive signs. the snow was trampled and bloody about the place where the soldier fell, and there were here and there the tracks of moccasined feet,--those of a young woman or child going at speed toward the hospital, running, probably, and followed close by a moccasined man. then those of the man, alone, went sprinting down the bluff southeastward over the flats some distance south of the foster's doorway and up the opposite bluff, to a point where four ponies, shoeless, had been huddled for as much, perhaps, as half an hour. then all four had come scampering down close together into the space below the hospital, not fifty yards from where the sentry fell, and the moccasined feet of a man and woman had scurried down the bluff from the hospital window, to meet them west of foster's shanty. then there had been confusion,--trouble of some kind: one pony, pursued a short distance, had broken away; the others had gone pounding out southeastward up the slope and out over the uplands, then down again, in wide sweep, through the valley of the little rivulet and along the low bench southwest of the fort, crossing the rock springs road and striking, further on, diagonally, the rawlins trail, where crabb and his fellows had found it and followed. but all this took hours of time, and meanwhile, only half revived, nanette had been gently, pityingly borne away to a sorrowing woman's home, for at last it was found, through the thick and lustrous hair, that she, too, had been struck a harsh and cruel blow; that one reason, probably, why she had been able to oppose no stouter resistance to so slender a girl as esther dade was that she was already half dazed through the stroke of some blunt, heavy weapon, wielded probably by him she was risking all to save. meantime the major had been pursuing his investigations. schmidt, the soldier sentry in front of moreau's door, a simple-hearted teuton of irreproachable character, tearfully protested against his incarceration. he had obeyed his orders to the letter. the major himself had brought the lady to the hospital and showed her in. the door that had been open, permitting the sentry constant sight of his prisoner, had been closed by the commanding officer himself. therefore, it was not for him, a private soldier, to presume to reopen it. the major said to the lady he would return for her soon after ten, and the lady smilingly (schmidt did not say how smilingly,--how bewitchingly smilingly, but the major needed no reminder) thanked him, and said, by that time she would be ready. in a few minutes she came out, saying, (doubtless with the same bewitching smile) she would have to run over home for something, and she was gone nearly half an hour, and all that time the door was open, the prisoner on the bed in his blankets, the lamp brightly burning. it was near tattoo when she returned, with some things under her cloak, and she was breathing quick and seemed hurried and shut the door after thanking him, and he saw no more of her for fifteen minutes, when the door opened and out she came, the same cloak around her, yet she looked different, somehow, and must have tiptoed, for he didn't hear her heels as he had before. she didn't seem quite so tall, either, and that was all, for he never knew anything more about it till the steward came running to tell of the escape. so schmidt could throw but little light upon the situation, save to flint himself, who did not then see fit to say to anyone that at no time was it covenanted that miss flower should be allowed to go and come unattended. in doing so she had deluded someone beside the sentry. it was late in the night when number six regained his senses and could tell _his_ tale, which was even more damaging. quite early in the evening, so he said,--as early as nine o'clock,--he was under the hospital corner, listening to the music further up along the bluff. a lady came from the south of the building as though she were going down to sudstown. mrs. foster had gone down not long before, and hogan, with a lantern, and two officers' ladies. but this one came all alone and spoke to him pleasant-like and said she was so sorry he couldn't be at the dance. she'd been seeing the sick and wounded in hospital, she said, and was going to bring some wine and jellies. if he didn't mind, she'd take the path around the quartermaster's storehouse outside, as she was going to mr. hay's, and didn't care to go through by the guard-house. so six let her go, as he "had no orders agin it" (even though it dawned upon him that this must be the young lady that had been carried off by the sioux). that made him think a bit, he said, and when she came back with a basket nicely covered with a white napkin, she made him take a big chicken sandwich. "sure i didn't know how to refuse the lady, until she poured me out a big tumbler of wine--wine, she said, she was taking in to sergeant briggs and corporal turner that was shot at the elk, and she couldn't bear to see me all alone out there in the cold." but six said he dasn't take the wine. he got six months "blind" once for a similar solecism, and, mindful of the major's warning (this was diplomatic) six swore he had sworn off, and had to refuse the repeated requests of the lady. he suspicioned her, he said, because she was so persistent. then she laughed and said good-night and went on to the hospital. what became of the wine she had poured out? (this from the grim and hitherto silent doctor, seated by the bedside.) she must have tossed it out or drunk it herself, perhaps, six didn't know. certainly no trace of it could be found in the snow. then nothing happened for as much as twenty minutes or so, and he was over toward the south end of his post, but facing toward the hospital when she came again down the steps, and this time handed him some cake and told him he was a good soldier not to drink even wine, and asked him what were the lights away across the platte, and he couldn't see any, and was following her pointing finger and staring, and then all of a sudden he saw a million lights, dancing, and stars and bombs and that was all he knew till they began talking to him here in hospital. something had hit him from behind, but he couldn't tell what. flint's nerve was failing him, for here was confirmation of the general's theory, but there was worse to come and more of it. miss mcgrath, domestic at the trader's, had told a tale that had reached the ears of mistress mcgann, and 'twas the latter that bade the major summon the girl and demand of her what it was she had seen and heard concerning "crappo" and the lady occupant of the second floor front at the trader's home. then it was that the major heard what others had earlier conjectured--that there had been clandestine meetings, whispered conferences and the like, within the first week of the lovely niece's coming to fort frayne. that notes had been fetched and carried by "crappo" as well as pete; that miss flower was either a somnambulist or a good imitation of one, as on two occasions the maid had "peeked" and seen her down-stairs at the back door in the dead hours of the night, or the very early morning. that was when she first came. then, since the recapture, miss mcgrath felt confident that though never again detected down stairs, miss flower had been out at night, as miss mcgrath believed her to have been the night, when was it? "when little kennedy had his scrap wid the sioux the boys do be all talkin' about"--the night, in fact, that stabber's band slipped away from the platte, ray's troop following at dawn. questioned as to how it was possible for miss flower to get out without coming down stairs, miss mcgrath said she wasn't good at monkeyshines herself, but "wimmen that could ride sthraddle-wise" were capable of climbs more difficult than that which the vine trellis afforded from the porch floor to the porch roof. miss mcgrath hadn't been spying, of course, because her room was at the back of the house, beyond the kitchen, but how did the little heel tracks get on the veranda roof?--the road dust on the matting under the window? the vine twigs in that "quare" made skirt never worn by day? that miss flower could and did ride "asthraddle" and ride admirably when found with the sioux at bear cliff, everybody at frayne well knew by this time. that she had so ridden at fort frayne was known to no officer or lady of the garrison then present, but believed by miss mcgrath because of certain inexpressibles of the same material with the "quare" made skirt; both found, dusty and somewhat bedraggled, the morning captain blake was having his chase after the indians, and miss flower was so "wild excited like." all this and more did miss mcgrath reveal before being permitted to return to the sanctity of her chamber, and flint felt the ground sinking beneath his feet. it might even be alleged of him now that he had connived at the escape of this most dangerous and desperate character, this indian leader, of whom example, prompt and sharp, would certainly have been made, unless the general and the ends of justice were defeated. but what stung the major most of all was that he had been fairly victimized, hoodwinked, cajoled, wheedled, flattered into this wretched predicament, all through the wiles and graces of a woman. no one knew it, whatever might be suspected, but nanette had bewitched him quite as much as missives from the east had persuaded and misled. and so it was with hardened and resentful heart that the major sought her on the morrow. the general and the commands afield would soon be coming home. such indians as they had not "rounded up" and captured were scattered far and wide. the campaign was over. now for the disposition of the prisoners. it was to tell mrs. hayand nanette, especially nanette, why the sentries were re-established about their home and that, though he would not place the trader's niece within a garrison cell, he should hold her prisoner beneath the trader's roof to await the action of superior authority on the grievous charges lodged at her door. she was able to be up, said miss mcgrath,--not only up but down--down in the breakfast room, looking blither and more like herself than she had been since she was brought home. "say that major flint desires to see her and mrs. hay," said flint, with majesty of mien, as, followed by two of his officers, he was shown into the trader's parlor. and presently they came--mrs. hay pale and sorrowing; miss flower, pale, perhaps, but triumphantly defiant. the one sat and covered her face with her hands as she listened to the major's few words, cold, stern and accusing. the other looked squarely at him, with fearless, glittering eyes:-- "you may order what you like so far as i'm concerned," was the utterly reckless answer of the girl. "i don't care what you do now that i know he is safe--free--and that you will never lay hands on him again." "that's where you are in error, miss flower," was the major's calm, cold-blooded, yet rejoiceful reply. it was for this, indeed, that he had come. "ralph moreau was run down by my men soon after midnight, and he's now behind the bars." chapter xxiii a soldier entangled december and bitter cold. the river frozen stiff. the prairie sheeted in unbroken snow. great log fires roaring in every open fireplace. great throngs of soldiery about the red hot barrack stoves, for all the columns were again in winter columns, and flint's two companies had "got the route" for home. they were to march on the morrow, escorting as far as laramie the intractables of stabber's band, some few of the indians to go in irons, among them ralph moreau, or eagle wing, now a notorious character. the general was there at frayne, with old "black bill," erstwhile chief inspector of the department, once a subaltern in days long gone by when laramie was "ultima thule" of the plains forts. the general had heard flint's halting explanation of his laxity in moreau's case, saying almost as little in reply as his old friend grant when "interviewed" by those of whom he disapproved. "black bill" it was who waxed explosive when once he opened on the major, and showed that amazed new englander something of the contents of moreau's indian kit, including the now famous hunting pouch, all found with stabber's village. a precious scoundrel, as it turned out, was this same moreau, with more sins to answer for than many a convicted jail bird, and with not one follower left to do him reverence except, perhaps, that lonely girl, self secluded at the hays. hay himself, though weak, was beginning to sit up. dade, blake and ray were all once more housed in garrison. truscott and billings, with their hardy troopers, had taken temporary station at the post, until the general had decided upon the disposition of the array of surrendered indians, nearly three hundred in number, now confined under strong guard in the quartermaster's corral at the flats, with six "head devils," including eagle wing, in the garrison prison. all the officers, with two exceptions, were again for duty at frayne. webb, laid by the heels at beecher, his feet severely frozen, and beverly field, who, recalled from a brief and solemn visit to a far southern home, had reached the post at nightfall of the th. there had hardly been allowed him time to uplift a single prayer, to receive a word of consolation from the lips of friends and kindred who loved the honored father, borne to his last resting place. "come as soon as possible," read the message wired him by ray, and, though the campaign was over, it was evident that something was amiss, and, with all his sorrow fresh upon him, the lad, sore in body and soul, had hastened to obey. and it was ray who received and welcomed him and took him straightway to his own cosy quarters, that mrs. ray, and then the blakes, might add their sympathetic and cordial greeting,--ere it came to telling why it was that these, his friends despite that trouble that could not be talked of, were now so earnest in their sympathy,--before telling him that his good name had become involved, that there were allegations concerning him which the chief had ordered "pigeon-holed" until he should come to face them. a pity it is that bill hay could not have been there, too, but his fever had left him far too weak to leave his room. only ray and blake were present and it was an interview not soon, if ever, to be forgotten. "i'm no hand at breaking things gently, field," said ray, when finally the three were closeted together in the captain's den. "it used to worry webb that you were seen so often riding with miss--miss flower up to stabber's village, and, in the light of what has since happened, you will admit that he had reasons. hear me through," he continued, as field, sitting bolt upright in the easy chair, essayed to speak. "neither captain blake nor i believe one word to your dishonor in the matter, but it looks as though you had been made a tool of, and you are by no means the first man. it was to see this fellow, moreau--eagle wing--whom you recognized at the elk,--she was there so frequently--was it not?" into field's pale face there had come a look of infinite distress. for a moment he hesitated, and little beads began to start out on his forehead. "captain ray," he finally said, "they tell me--i heard it from the driver on the way up from rock springs--that miss flower is virtually a prisoner, that she had been in league with the sioux, and yet, until i can see her--can secure my release from a promise, i have to answer you as i answered you before--i cannot say." blake started impatiently and heaved up from his lounging chair, his long legs taking him in three strides to the frost-covered window at the front. ray sadly shook his dark, curly head. "you _are_ to see her, field. the general--bless him for a trump!--wouldn't listen to a word against you in your absence; but that girl has involved everybody--you, her aunt, who has been devotion itself to her, her uncle, who was almost her slave. she deliberately betrayed him into the hands of the sioux. in fact this red robber and villain, moreau, is the only creature she hasn't tried to 'work,' and he abandoned her after she had lied, sneaked and stolen for him." "captain ray!" the cry came from pallid lips, and the young soldier started to his feet, appalled at such accusation. "every word of it is true," said ray. "she joined him after his wounds. she shared his escape from the village at our approach. she was with him when blake nabbed them at bear cliff. she was going with him from here. what manner of girl was that, field, for you to be mixed up with?" "he is her half brother!" protested field, with kindling eyes. "she told me--everything--told me of their childhood together, and--" "told you a pack of infernal lies!" burst in blake, no longer able to contain himself. "made you a cat's paw; led you even to taking her by night to see him when she learned the band were to jump for the mountains--used you, by god, as he used _her_, and, like the indian she is, she'd turn and stab you now, if you stood in her way or his. why, field, that brute's her lover, and she's his--" "it's a lie! you shall not say it, sir!" cried field, beside himself with wrath and amaze, as he stood quivering from head to foot, still weak from wounds, fever and distress of mind. but ray sprang to his side. "hush, blake! hush, field! don't speak. what is it, hogan?" and sharply he turned him to the door, never dreaming what had caused the interruption. "the general, sir, to see the captain!" and there, in the hallway, throwing off his heavy overcoat and "arctics," there, with that ever faithful aide in close attendance, was the chief they loved; dropped in, all unsuspecting, just to say good-bye. "i knocked twice," began hogan, but ray brushed him aside, for, catching sight of the captain's face, the general was already at the door. another moment and he had discovered field, and with both hands extended, all kindliness and sympathy, he stepped at once across the room to greet him. "i was so very sorry to hear the news," said he. "i knew your father well in the old days. how's your wound? what brought you back so soon?" and then there was one instant of awkward silence and then--ray spoke. "that was my doing, general. i believed it best that he should be here to meet you and--every allegation at his expense. mr. field, i feel sure, does not begin to know them yet, especially as to the money." "it was all recovered," said the general. "it was found almost intact--so was much of that that they took from hay. even if it hadn't been, hay assumed all responsibility for the loss." with new bewilderment in his face, the young officer, still white and trembling, was gazing, half stupefied, from one to the other. "what money?" he demanded. "i never heard--" "wait," said the general, with significant glance at ray, who was about to speak. "i am to see them--mrs. hay and her niece--at nine o'clock. it is near that now. webb cannot be with us, but i shall want you, blake. say nothing until then. sit down, mr. field, and tell me about that leg. can you walk from here to hay's, i wonder?" then the ladies, mrs. ray and her charming next door neighbor, appeared, and the general adjourned the conference forthwith, and went with them to the parlor. "say nothing more," ray found time to whisper. "you'll understand it all in twenty minutes." and at nine o'clock the little party was on its way through the sharp and wintry night, the general and captain blake, side by side, ahead, the aide-de-camp and mr. field close following. dr. waller, who had been sent for, met them near the office. the sentries at the guard-house were being changed as the five tramped by along the snapping and protesting board walk, and a sturdy little chap, in fur cap and gauntlets, and huge buffalo overcoat, caught sight of them and, facing outward, slapped his carbine down to the carry--the night signal of soldier recognition of superior rank as practised at the time. "tables are turned with a vengeance," said the general, with his quiet smile. "that's little kennedy, isn't it? i seem to see him everywhere when we're campaigning. moreau was going to eat his heart out next time they met, i believe." "so he said," grinned blake, "before winsor's bullet fetched him. pity it hadn't killed instead of crippling him." "he's a bad lot," sighed the general. "wing won't fly away from kennedy, i fancy." "not if there's a shot left in his belt," said blake. "and ray is officer-of-the-day. there'll be no napping on guard this night." at the barred aperture that served for window on the southward front, a dark face peered forth in malignant hate as the speakers strode by. but it shrank back, when the sentry once more tossed his carbine to the shoulder, and briskly trudged beneath the bars. six indians shared that prison room, four of their number destined to exile in the distant east,--to years, perhaps, within the casemates of a seaboard fort--the last place on earth for a son of the warlike sioux. "they know their fate, i understand," said blake, as the general moved on again. "oh, yes. their agent and others have been here with indian bureau orders, permitting them to see and talk with the prisoners. their shackles are to be riveted on to-night. nearly time now, isn't it?" "at tattoo, sir. the whole guard forms then, and the four are to be moved into the main room for the purpose. i am glad this is the last of it." "yes, we'll start them with flint at dawn in the morning. he'll be more than glad to get away, too. he hasn't been over lucky here, either." a strange domestic--(the mcgrath having been given warning and removed to sudsville) showed them into the trader's roomy parlor, the largest and most pretentious at the post. hay had lavished money on his home and loved it and the woman who had so adorned it. she came in almost instantly to greet them, looking piteously into the kindly, bearded face of the general, and civilly, yet absently, welcoming the others. she did not seem to realize that field, who stood in silence by the side of captain blake, had been away. she had no thought, apparently, for anyone but the chief himself,--he who held the destinies of her dear ones in the hollow of his hand. his first question was for fawn eyes, the little ogalalla maiden whose history he seemed to know. "she is well and trying to be content with me," was the reply. "she has been helping poor nanette. she does not seem to understand or realize what is coming to him. have they--ironed him--yet?" [illustration: "hush! she's coming"--she was there.] "i believe not," said the general. "but it has to be done to-night. they start so early in the morning." "and you won't let her see him, general. no good can come from it. she declares she will go to him in the morning, if you prohibit it to-night," and the richly jewelled hands of the unhappy woman were clasped almost in supplication. "by morning he will be beyond her reach. the escort starts at six." "and--these gentlemen here--" she looked nervously, appealingly about her. "must they--all know?" "these and the inspector general. he will be here in a moment. but, indeed, mrs. hay, it _is_ all known, practically," said the general, with sympathy and sorrow in his tone. "not all--not all, general! even i don't know all--she herself has said so. hush! she's coming." she was there! they had listened for swish of skirts or fall of slender feet upon the stairway, but there had not been a sound. they saw the reason as she halted at the entrance, lifting with one little hand the costly navajo blanket that hung as a portière. in harmony with the glossy folds of richly dyed wool, she was habited in indian garb from head to foot. in two black, lustrous braids, twisted with feather and quill and ribbon, her wealth of hair hung over her shoulders down the front of her slender form. a robe of dark blue stuff, rich with broidery of colored bead and bright-hued plumage, hung, close clinging, and her feet were shod in soft moccasins, also deftly worked with bead and quill. but it was her face that chained the gaze of all, and that drew from the pallid lips of lieutenant field a gasp of mingled consternation and amaze. without a vestige of color; with black circles under her glittering eyes; with lines of suffering around the rigid mouth and with that strange pinched look about the nostrils that tells of anguish, bodily and mental, nanette stood at the doorway, looking straight at the chief. she had no eyes for lesser lights. all her thought, apparently, was for him,--for him whose power it was, in spite of vehement opposition, to deal as he saw fit with the prisoner in his hands. appeal on part of friends societies, peace and indian associations had failed. the president had referred the matter in its entirety to the general commanding in the field, and the general had decided. one moment she studied his face, then came slowly forward. no hand extended. no sign of salutation,--greeting,--much less of homage. ignoring all others present, she addressed herself solely to him. "is it true you have ordered him in irons and to fort rochambeau?" she demanded. "it is." "simply because he took part with his people when your soldiers made war on them?" she asked, her pale lips quivering. "you well know how much else there was," answered the general, simply. "and i have told you he deserves no pity--of yours." "oh, you say he came back here a spy!" she broke forth, impetuously. "it is not so! he never came near the post,--nearer than stabber's village, and there he had a right to be. you say 'twas he who led them to the warpath,--that he planned the robbery here and took the money. he never knew they were going, till they were gone. he never stole a penny. that money was loaned him honestly--and for a purpose--and with the hope and expectation of rich profit thereby." "by you, do you mean?" asked the general, calmly, as before. "by me? no! what money had i? he asked it and it was given him--by lieutenant field." a gasp that was almost a cry following instantly on this insolent assertion--a sound of stir and start among the officers at whom she had not as yet so much as glanced, now caused the girl to turn one swift, contemptuous look their way, and in that momentary flash her eyes encountered those of the man she had thus accused. field stood like one turned suddenly to stone, gazing at her with wild, incredulous eyes. one instant she seemed to sway, as though the sight had staggered her, but the rally was as instantaneous. before the general could interpose a word, she plunged on again:-- "he, at least, had a heart and conscience. he knew how wrongfully moreau had been accused,--that money was actually needed to establish his claim. it would all have been repaid if your soldiers had not forced this wicked war, and--" and now in her vehemence her eyes were flashing, her hand uplifted, when, all on a sudden, the portière was raised the second time, and there at the doorway stood the former inspector general, "black bill." at sight of him the mad flow of words met sudden stop. down, slowly down, came the clinched, uplifted hand. her eyes, glaring as were field's a moment agone, were fixed in awful fascination on the grizzled face. then actually she recoiled as the veteran officer stepped quietly forward into the room. "and what?" said he, with placid interest. "i haven't heard you rave in many a moon, nanette. you are your mother over again--without your mother's excuse for fury." but a wondrous silence had fallen on the group. the girl had turned rigid. for an instant not a move was made, and, in the hush of all but throbbing hearts, the sound of the trumpets pealing forth the last notes of tattoo came softly through the outer night. then sudden, close at hand, yet muffled by double door and windows, came other sounds--sounds of rush and scurry,--excited voices,--cries of halt! halt!--the ring of a carbine,--a yell of warning--another shot, and blake and the aide-de-camp sprang through the hallway to the storm door without. mrs. hay, shuddering with dread, ran to the door of her husband's chamber beyond the dining room. she was gone but a moment. when she returned the little ogalalla maid, trembling and wild-eyed, had come running down from aloft. the general had followed into the lighted hallway,--they were all crowding there by this time,--and the voice of captain ray, with just a tremor of excitement about it, was heard at the storm door on the porch, in explanation to the chief. "moreau, sir! broke guard and stabbed kennedy. the second shot dropped him. he wants fawn eyes, his sister." a scream of agony rang through the hall, shrill and piercing. then the wild cry followed: "you shall not hold me! let me go to him, i say--i am his wife!" chapter xxiv the death song of the sioux that was a gruesome night at frayne. just at tattoo the door leading to the little cell room had been thrown open, and the sergeant of the guard bade the prisoners come forth,--all warriors of the ogalalla band and foremost of their number was eagle wing, the battle leader. recaptured by crabb and his men after a desperate flight and fight for liberty, he had apparently been planning ever since a second essay even more desperate. in sullen silence he had passed his days, showing no sign of recognition of any face among his guards until the morning kennedy appeared--all malice forgotten now that his would-be slayer was a helpless prisoner, and therefore did the irishman greet him jovially. "that man would knife you if he had half a chance," said the sergeant. "watch out for him!" "you bet i'll watch out," said kennedy, never dreaming that, despite all search and vigilance, moreau had managed to obtain and hide a knife. in silence they had shuffled forth into the corridor. the heavy portal swung behind them, confining the other two. another door opened into the guardroom proper, where stood the big, red hot stove and where waited two blacksmiths with the irons. once in the guard room every window was barred, and members of the guard, three deep, blocked in eager curiosity the doorway leading to the outer air. in the corridor on one side stood three infantry soldiers, with fixed bayonets. on the other, facing them, three others of the guard. between them shuffled the sioux, "wing" leading. one glance at the waiting blacksmiths was enough. with the spring of a tiger, he hurled himself, head foremost and bending low, straight at the open doorway, and split his way through the astonished guards like center rush at foot ball, scattering them right and left; then darted round the corner of the guard-house, agile as a cat. and there was kennedy confronting him! one furious lunge he made with gleaming knife, then shot like an arrow, straight for the southward bluff. it was bad judgment. he trusted to speed, to dim starlight, to bad aim, perhaps; but the little irishman dropped on one knee and the first bullet tore through the muscles of a stalwart arm; the second, better aimed, pierced the vitals. then they were on him, men by the dozen, in another instant, as he staggered and fell there, impotent and writhing. they bore him to the cell again,--the hospital was too far,--and waller and his aides came speedily to do all that surgery could accomplish, but he cursed them back. he raved at ray, who entered, leading poor, sobbing little fawn eyes, and demanded to be left alone with her. waller went out to minister to kennedy, bleeding fast, and the others looked to ray for orders when the door was once more opened and blake entered with nanette. "by the general's order," said he, in brief explanation, and in an instant she was on her knees beside the dying sioux. there and thus they left them. waller said there was nothing to be done. the junior surgeon, tracy,--he whom she had so fascinated only those few weeks before,--bent and whispered: "call me if you need. i shall remain within hearing." but there came no call. at taps the door was once more softly opened and tracy peered within. fawn eyes, rocking to and fro, was sobbing in an abandonment of grief. nanette, face downward, lay prone upon a stilled and lifeless heart. flint and his escort duly went their way, and spread their story as they camped at laramie and "the chug." the general tarried another week at frayne. there was still very much to keep him there; so, not until he and "black bill" came down did we at other stations learn the facts. the general, as usual, had little to say. the colonel talked for both. a woful time, it seems, they had had with poor nanette when at last it became necessary to take her away from her dead brave. she raged and raved at even her pleading aunt. defiant of them all, from the general down, and reckless of law or fact, she vowed it was all a conspiracy to murder moreau in cold blood. they gave him the knife, she declared, although it later developed that she had tossed it through the open window. they had given him the chance to escape--the sight of kennedy, "who had striven to kill him twice before," and then of the blacksmiths, with their degrading shackles--all just to tempt him to make a dash for freedom;--just as they had lured and murdered crazy horse--crazy horse, his brave kinsman--not ten years before,--then had placed a dead shot on the path to life and liberty--a man who killed him in cold blood, as deliberately planned. these were her accusations, and that story took strong hold in certain circles in the far east, where "love of truth" inspired its widespread publication, but not its contradiction when the facts became known. the same conditions obtain to-day in dealing with affairs across the sea. nanette said many other things before her final breakdown; and hay and his sorrowing wife found their load of care far heaviest, for the strain of indian blood, now known to all, had steeled the soul of the girl against the people at fort frayne, men and women both--against none so vehemently as those who would have shown her sympathy--none so malignantly as those who had suffered for her sake. this was especially true of field. in the mad hope of "getting justice," as she termed it, for the dead, she had demanded speech of the general, and, in presence of "black bill" and the surgeon, he had given her a hearing. it proved fatal to her cause, for in her fury at what she termed "the triumph of his foes," she lost all sense of right or reason, and declared that it was field who had warned stabber's band and sent them fleeing to unite with lame wolf,--field who took the trader's horses and rode by night with kennedy to warn them it was webb's intention to surround the village at dawn and make prisoners of the men. it was field, she said, who furnished the money moreau needed to establish his claim to a gold mine in the black hills, the ownership of which would make them rich and repay field a dozen times over. it was field who sought to protect her kindred among the sioux in hopes, she said it boldly, of winning her. but the general had heard enough. the door was opened and ray and blake were ushered in. the former briefly told of the finding of her note in field's room the night the adjutant was so mysteriously missing. the note itself was held forth by the inspector general and she was asked if she cared to have it opened and read aloud. her answer was that field was a coward, a dastard to betray a woman who had trusted him. "oh, he didn't," said blake, drily. "'twas just the other way. he couldn't be induced to open his head, so his friends took a hand. you got word of the outbreak through your indian followers. you wrote to field and sent the note by pete, bidding him join you at that godless hour, telling him that you would provide the horses and that you must ride to stabber's camp to see moreau for the last time, as he was going at once to the black hills. you made field believe he was your half brother, instead of what he was. you brought moreau back to the post and took something, i can't say what, down to him from mr. hay's,--he waiting for you on the flats below the trader's corral. you should have worn your moccasins, as well as a divided skirt, that night instead of french-heeled _bottines_. the rest--others can tell." the others were kennedy and the recaptured, half recalcitrant pete; the latter turned state's evidence. kennedy told how he had wandered down into the flats after "the few dhrinks" that made him think scornful of sioux; of his encounter with eagle wing, his rescue by field and a girl who spoke sioux like a native. he thought it was little fawn eyes when he heard her speak, and until he heard this lady; then he understood. he had been pledged to secrecy by the lieutenant, and never meant to tell a soul, but when he heard the lie the lady told about the lieutenant, it ended any promise. then pete, an abject, whining wretch, was ushered in, and his story, when dragged out by the roots, was worst of all. poor mrs. hay! she had to hear it, for they sent for her; somebody had to restrain nanette. pete said he had known nanette long time, ever since baby. so had crapaud. yes, and they had known eagle wing, moreau, always--knew his father and mother. knew nanette's father and mother. but black bill interposed. no need to go into these particulars, as substantiating mrs. hay and himself, said he. "the lady knows perfectly well that i know all about her girlhood," so pete returned to modern history. eagle wing, it seems, came riding often in from stabber's camp to see nanette by night, and "he was in heap trouble, always heap trouble, always want money," and one night she told pete he must come with her, must never tell of it. she had money, she said, her own, in the trader's safe, but the door was too heavy, she couldn't open it, even though she had the key. she had opened the store by the back door, then came to him to help her with the rest. he pulled the safe door open, he said, and then she hunted and found two big letters, and took them to the house, and next night she opened the store again, and he pulled open the safe, and she put back the letters and sent him to mr. field's back door with note, and then over to saddle harney and dan, and "bring 'em out back way from stable." then later she told him captain blake had eagle wing's buckskin pouch and letters, and they must get them or somebody would hang eagle wing, and she kept them going, "all time going," meeting messengers from the sioux camps, or carrying letters. she fixed everything for the sioux to come and capture hay and the wagon;--fixed everything, even to nearly murdering the sentry on number six. pete and spotted horse, a young brave of stabber's band, had compassed that attempted rescue. she would have had them kill the sentry, if need be, and the reason they didn't get wing away was that she couldn't wait until the sentries had called off. they might even then have succeeded, only her pony broke away, and she clung to eagle wing's until he--he had to hit her to make her let go. the wild girl, in a fury declared it false from end to end. the poor woman, weeping by her side, bowed her head and declared it doubtless true. her story,--mrs. hay's,--was saddest of all. her own father died when she was very, very young. he was a french canadian trader and traveller who had left them fairly well to do. next to her indian mother, mrs. hay had loved no soul on earth as she had her pretty baby sister. the girls grew up together. the younger, petted and spoiled, fell in love with a handsome, reckless young french half breed, jean la fleur; against all warnings, became his wife, and was soon bullied, beaten and deserted. she lived but a little while, leaving to her more prosperous and level-headed sister, now wedded to mr. hay, their baby daughter, also named nanette, and by her the worthy couple had done their very best. perhaps it would have been wiser had they sent the child away from all association with the sioux, but she had lived eight years on the laramie in daily contact with them, sharing the indian sports and games, loving their free life, and rebelling furiously when finally taken east. "she" was the real reason why her aunt spent so many months of each succeeding year away from her husband and the frontier. one of the girl's playmates was a magnificent young savage, a son of crow killer, the famous chief. the father was killed the day of crazy horse's fierce assault on the starving force of general crook at slim buttes in ' , and good, kind missionary people speedily saw promise in the lad, put him at school and strove to educate him. the rest they knew. sometimes at eastern schools, sometimes with buffalo bill, but generally out of money and into mischief, eagle wing went from one year to another, and nanette, foolishly permitted to meet him again in the east, had become infatuated. all that art and education, wealth, travel and luxury combined could do, was done to wean her from her passionate adoration of this superb young savage. there is no fiercer, more intense, devotion than that the sioux girl gives the warrior who wins her love. she becomes his abject slave. she will labor, lie, steal, sin, suffer, die, _gladly_ die for him, if only she believes herself loved in turn, and this did nanette more than believe, and believing, slaved and studied between his irregular appearances that she might wheedle more money from her aunt to lavish on her brave. when discovered meeting him in secret and by night, she was locked in her third story room and thought secure, until the day revealed her gone by way of the lightning rod. they had to resort to more stringent measures, but time and again she met him, undetected until too late, and when at last her education was declared complete, she had amazed her aunt by expressing willingness to go to frayne, when the good woman thought the objectionable kinsman abroad with buffalo bill. until too late, mrs. hay knew nothing of his having been discharged and of his preceding them to the west. then nanette begged her for more money, because he was in dreadful trouble;--had stabbed a police officer at omaha, whose people, so moreau said, agreed not to prosecute him if one thousand dollars could be paid at once. hay's patience had been exhausted. he had firmly refused to contribute another cent to settle moreau's scrapes, even though he was a distant kinsman of his wife, and they both were fond of his little sister fawn eyes. it had never occurred to mrs. hay that nan could steal from or plot against her benefactors, but that was before she dreamed that nanette had become the indian's wife. after that, anything might happen. "if she could do _that_ for love of moreau," said she, "there was nothing she could not do." and it would seem there was little short of deliberate murder she had not done for her sioux lover, who had rewarded her utter self-sacrifice by a savage blow with a revolver butt. "poor nanette!" sobbed mrs. hay, and "poor nanette!" said all fort frayne, their distrust of her buried and forgotten as she lay, refusing herself to everyone; starving herself in dull, desperate misery in her lonely room. even grim old "black bill," whom she had recognized at once,--bill, who had been the first to confirm blake's suspicions as to her identity,--had pity and compassion for her. "it's the way of the blood," said blake. "she is "'bred out of that bloody strain that haunted us in our familiar paths.'" "she could do no different," said the general, "having fixed her love on him. it's the strain of the sioux. _we_ call her conduct criminal:--they call it sublime." and one night, while decision in nanette's case was still pending, and, still self-secluded, she hid within the trader's home, refusing speech with anyone but little fawn eyes, a sleighing party set out from frayne for a spin by moonlight along the frozen platte. wagon bodies had been set on runners, and piled with hay. the young people from officers' row, with the proper allowance of matrons and elders, were stowed therein, and tucked in robes and furs, esther dade among them, gentle and responsive as ever, yet still very silent. field, in his deep mourning, went nowhere. he seemed humiliated beyond words by his connection with this most painful affair. even the general failed to cheer and reassure him. he blamed himself for everything and shrank even from his friends. they saw the dim glow of the student lamp in his quarters, as they jingled cheerily away. they were coming homeward, toward ten o'clock. the moon was shining brilliantly along the bold heights of the southern bank, and, insensibly, chat and laughter gradually ceased as they came again in sight of the twinkling lights of frayne, and glanced aloft at a new-made scaffolding, standing black against the sky at the crest of fetterman bluff. "eagle wing roosts high," said a thoughtless youngster. "the general let them have their way to the last. what's that?" he added, with sudden stop. the sleigh had as suddenly been reined in. the driver, an irish trooper, crossed himself, for, on the hush of the breathless winter night, there rose and fell--shrill, quavering, now high, now low, in mournful minor, a weird, desolate, despairing chant, the voice of a heart-broken woman, and one and all they knew at once it was nanette, after the manner of her mother's people, alone on the lofty height, alone in the wintry wilderness, sobbing out her grief song to the sleeping winds, mourning to the last her lost, her passionately loved brave. then, all on a sudden, it ceased. a black form started from under the scaffolding to the edge of the bluff. then again, weird, wild, uncanny, a barbaric, almost savage strain burst from the lips of the girl. "mother of heavin!" cried the driver. "can no one shtop that awful keen. it's her death song she's singin'!" two young officers sprang from the sleigh, but at the instant another cry arose. another form, this one of horse and rider, appeared at the crest, silhouetted with the girl's against the stars. they saw the rider leap from saddle, almost within arms' length of the singer; saw her quickly turn, as though, for the first time, aware of an intruder. then the wailing song went out in sudden scream of mingled wrath, hatred and despair, and, like the sioux that she was at heart, the girl made one mad rush to reach the point of bluff where was a sheer descent of over eighty feet. a shriek of dread went up from the crowded sleigh; a cry of rejoicing, as the intruder sprang and clasped her, preventing her reaching the precipice. but almost instantly followed a moan of anguish, for slipping at the crest, together, firmly linked, they came rolling, sliding, shooting down the steep incline of the frozen bluff, and brought up with stunning force among the ice blocks, logs and driftwood at the base. they bore them swiftly homeward,--field senseless and sorely shaken,--nanette's fierce spirit slowly drifting away from the bruised and broken tenement held there, so pityingly, in the arms of esther dade. before the christmas fires were lighted in the snowbound, frontier fort, they had laid all that was mortal of the brave, deluded girl in the little cemetery of fort frayne, her solemn story closed, on earth, forever. l'envoi nearly two years later, with the old regiment still serving along the storied platte, they were talking of her one moonlit evening at the flagstaff. the band, by this time a fixture at frayne, had been playing delightfully, and some of the girls and young gallants had been waltzing on the rays' veranda. a few new faces were there. two faces, well known, were missing,--those of esther dade and beverly field. the latter had never been the same man since the tragic events that followed so closely on the heels of the lame wolf campaign. wounds had slowly healed. injuries, physical, were well nigh forgotten; but, mentally, he had been long a sufferer. for months after the death of nanette, even when sufficiently restored to be on duty, he held shrinkingly aloof from post society. even webb, blake and ray were powerless to pull him out of his despond. he seemed to feel,--indeed he said so, that his brief entanglement with that strange, fascinating girl had clouded his soldier name for all time. to these stanch friends and advisers he frankly told the whole story, and they, in turn, had told it to the general, to the colonel commanding the regiment and to those whose opinions they most valued; but field could speak of it to none others. frankly he admitted that from the moment he met the girl he fell under the influence of a powerful fascination. within twenty-four hours of his return from the laramie trip they were riding together, and during that ride she asked to be taken to stabber's village, and there had talked long with that magnificent young sioux. later, field surprised her in tears, and then she told him a pitiful tale. eagle wing had been educated, she said, by her aunt and uncle,--was indeed their nephew and her own cousin. he had been wild and had given them much trouble, and her aunt was in bitter distress over his waywardness. it was to plead with him that she, nanette, had gone. "moreau" had been taught mining and mineralogy, it seems, and declared that he had "located" a most promising mine in the black hills. he could buy off every claim if he had a thousand dollars, and the mine might be worth millions. hay pooh-poohed the story. mrs. hay could not persuade him. then "moreau" became threatening. he would join the hostiles, he swore, if his aunt would not help him. indeed, and here field's young face burned with shame, nanette told him that she understood that he, field, was an only son who might inherit wealth in days to come, and could draw upon his father now for any reasonable sum; and, within the week of his meeting her, he was on the point of offering everything she needed, but that he disbelieved the indian's story. then, one night, there came a note begging him to meet her at once. she had a dreadful message, she said, from "moreau." the fellow had frequently been prowling about the trader's during the dark hours, and now she was afraid of him, yet must see him, and see him at once, even if she had to ride to stabber's camp. field's eyes were blinded and he went. hay's horses were ready beyond the corral, and she rode astride on one of hay's own saddles. they found "moreau" awaiting them at the ford, and there was a scene field could not understand, for they spoke in the sioux language. that night it was that, all in tears at the indian's obduracy, she owned that he was her own brother, not merely a cousin, and together they had all gone back toward frayne. "moreau" was to wait on the flats until she could return to the house. she had been striving to get him to make certain promises, she said, contingent on her giving him something from her own means. field said he remonstrated with her to the utmost, but she told him no woman with sioux blood in her veins ever deserted a brother--or lover. and so she had returned with a packet, presumably of money, and there they found the indian clinched with kennedy. kennedy was rescued in the nick of time, and pledged to silence. the indian rode away triumphant. nanette climbed back to her window, exhausted, apparently, by her exertions, and field started for his quarters, only to find the entire garrison astir. the rest they knew. asked how she came to know of the money in the trader's safe, he said no secret had been made of it by either hay or him. she had asked him laughingly about his quarrel with wilkins, and seemed deeply interested in all the details of subaltern life. either hay or he, fortunately, could have made good the missing sum, even had most of it not been found amongst stabber's plunder. field had never seen her again until the night the general took him to confront her at the hays', and, all too late, had realized how completely she had lured and used him. in pride, honor, self-respect, he had been sorely wounded, and, even when assured that the general attached no blame to him, and that his name was no longer involved, he would have resigned his commission and quit the service had it not been for these soldiers three, webb, blake and ray. they made him see that, all the more because his father's death had left him independent--sole master of quite a valuable property--he must stick to the sword and live down the possible stain. and stay he did, refusing even a chance to go abroad the following spring, and devoting himself assiduously to his duties, although he shrank from society. they made him sometimes spend a quiet evening at ray's or blake's, where twice miss dade was found. but that young lady was quick to see that her hostess had been scheming, as loving women will. and then, when he went hoping to see her, yet half afraid, she came no more. they could not coax her. the early spring had taken him forth on long campaign. the ensuing fall had taken her to the far distant east, for gallant old dade was breaking down. the doctors sent him on prolonged sick leave. then was fort frayne indeed a desolate post to beverly field, and when midwinter came, and with it the news that dade had but little while to live, he took counsel with ray, and a month's leave, not much of which was spent in the south. the old regiment was represented at the sad and solemn little ceremony when the devoted husband, father and fellow soldier was laid at rest. nor was field a happier man when he rejoined from leave, and they all thought they knew why. letters came, black-bordered, with esther's superscription, sometimes, but only for mrs. blake or mrs. ray. there was never one for field. and so a second summer came and went and a second september was ushered in, and in the flood of the full moonlight there was again music and dancing at fort frayne, but not for field, not for esther dade. they were all talking of nanette, daughter of the dakotas, and esther, daughter of the regiment, as they called her in her father's corps, and the mail came late from laramie, and letters were handed round as tattoo sounded, and mrs. blake, eagerly scanning a black-bordered page, was seen suddenly to run in doors, her eyes brimming over with tears. later that night hogan tapped at field's front door and asked would the lieutenant step over to mrs. ray's a minute, and he went. "read that," said mrs. ray, pointing to a paragraph on the third page of the black-bordered missive that had been too much for mrs. blake. and he read: "through it all esther has been my sweetest comfort, but now i must lose her, too. our means are so straitened that she has _made_ me see the necessity. hard as it is, i must yield to her for the help that it may bring. she has been studying a year and is to join the staff of trained nurses at st. luke's the first of october." for a moment there was silence in the little army parlor. field's hands were trembling, his face was filled with trouble. she knew he would speak his heart to her at last, and speak he did:-- "all these months that she has been studying i've been begging and pleading, mrs. ray. _you_ know what i went for last winter,--all to no purpose. i'm going again now, if i have to stay a patient at st. luke's to coax her out of it." but not until christmas came the welcome "wire:" patient discharged. nurse finally accepts new engagement. finis generously made available by the internet archive/american libraries.) warrior gap a story of the sioux outbreak of ' . by general charles king, u. s. a. author of "fort frayne," "an army wife," "trumpeter fred," "found in the philippines," "a wounded name," "noble blood and a west point parallel," "a garrison tangle," etc., etc. the hobart company, new york city. copyrighted , by f. tennyson neely. copyrighted, , by the hobart company. warrior gap. . riding at ease in the lazy afternoon sunshine a single troop of cavalry was threading its way in long column of twos through the bold and beautiful foothills of the big horn. behind them, glinting in the slanting rays, cloud peak, snow clad still although it was late in may, towered above the pine-crested summits of the range. to the right and left of the winding trail bare shoulders of bluff, covered only by the dense carpet of bunch grass, jutted out into the comparative level of the eastward plain. a clear, cold, sparkling stream, on whose banks the little command had halted for a noontide rest, went rollicking away northeastward, and many a veteran trooper looked longingly, even regretfully, after it, and then cast a gloomy glance over the barren and desolate stretch ahead. far as the eye could reach in that direction the earth waves heaved and rolled in unrelieved monotony to the very sky line, save where here and there along the slopes black herds or scattered dots of buffalo were grazing unvexed by hunters red or white, for this was thirty years ago, when, in countless thousands, the bison covered the westward prairies, and there were officers who forbade their senseless slaughter to make food only for the worthless, prowling coyotes. no wonder the trooper hated to leave the foothills of the mountains, with the cold, clear trout streams and the bracing air, to take to long days' marching over dull waste and treeless prairie, covered only by sage brush, rent and torn by dry ravines, shadeless, springless, almost waterless, save where in unwholesome hollows dull pools of stagnant water still held out against the sun, or, further still southeast among the "breaks" of the many forks of the south cheyenne, on the sandy flats men dug for water for their suffering horses, yet shrank from drinking it themselves lest their lips should crack and bleed through the shriveling touch of the alkali. barely two years a commissioned officer, the young lieutenant at the head of column rode buoyantly along, caring little for the landscape, since with every traversed mile he found himself just that much nearer home. twenty-five summers, counting this one coming, had rolled over his curly head, and each one had seemed brighter, happier than the last, all but the one he spent as a hard-worked "plebe" at the military academy. his graduation summer two years previous was a glory to him, as well as to a pretty sister, young and enthusiastic enough to think a brother in the regulars, just out of west point, something to be made much of, and jessie dean had lost no opportunity of spoiling her soldier or of wearying her school friends through telling of his manifold perfections. he was a manly, stalwart, handsome fellow as young graduates go, and old ones wish they might go over again. he was a fond and not too teasing kind of brother. he wasn't the brightest fellow in the class by thirty odd, and had barely scraped through one or two of his examinations, but jessie proudly pointed to the fact that much more than half the class had "scraped off" entirely, and therefore that those who succeeded in getting through at all were paragons, especially brother marshall. but girls at that school had brothers of their own, girls who had never seen west point or had the cadet fever, and were not impressed with young officers as painted by so indulgent a sister. most of the girls had tired of jessie's talks, and some had told her so, but there was one who had been sympathetic from the start--a far western, friendless sort of girl she was when first she entered school, uncouthly dressed, wretchedly homesick and anything but companionable, and yet jessie dean's kind heart had warmed to this friendless waif and she became her champion, her ally, and later, much to her genuine surprise, almost her idol. it presently transpired that "the pappoose," as the girls nicknamed her because it was learned that she had been rocked in an indian cradle and had long worn moccasins instead of shoes (which accounted for her feet being so much finer in their shape than those of her fellows), was quick and intelligent beyond her years, that, though apparently hopelessly behind in all their studies at the start, and provoking ridicule and sneers during the many weeks of her loneliness and home-longing, she suddenly began settling to her work with grim determination, surprising her teachers and amazing her mates by the vim and originality of her methods, and, before the end of the year, climbing for the laurels with a mental strength and agility that put other efforts to the blush. then came weeks of bliss spent with a doting father at niagara, the seashore and the point--a dear old dad as ill at ease in eastern circles as his daughter had been at first at school, until he found himself welcomed with open arms to the officers' mess-rooms at the point, for john folsom was as noted a frontiersman as ever trod the plains, a man old officers of the cavalry and infantry knew and honored as "a square trader" in the indian country--a man whom the indians themselves loved and trusted far and wide, and when a man has won the trust and faith of an indian let him grapple it to his breast as a treasure worth the having, great even as "the heart love of a child." sioux, shoshone and cheyenne, they would turn to "old john" in their councils, their dealings, their treaties, their perplexities, for when he said a thing was right and square their doubts were gone, and there at the point the now well-to-do old trader met men who had known him in by-gone days at laramie and omaha, and there his pretty schoolgirl daughter met her bosom friend's big brother marshall, a first classman in all his glory, dancing with damsels in society, while she was but a maiden shy in short dresses. oh, how jess had longed to be of that party to the point, but her home was in the far west, her father long dead and buried, her mother an invalid, and the child was needed there. earnestly had old folsom written, begging that she who had been so kind to his little girl should be allowed to visit the seashore and the point with him and "pappoose," as he laughingly referred to her, adopting the school name given by the girls; but they were proud people, were the deans, and poor and sensitive. they thanked mr. folsom warmly. "jessie was greatly needed at her home this summer," was the answer; but folsom somehow felt it was because they dreaded to accept courtesies they could not repay in kind. "as if i could ever repay jess for all the loving kindness to my little girl in her loneliness," said he. no, there was no delicious visiting with pappoose that summer, but with what eager interest had she not devoured the letters telling of the wonderful sights the little far westerner saw--the ocean, the great niagara, the beautiful point in the heart of the highlands, but, above all, that crowned monarch, that plumed knight, that incomparable big brother, cadet captain marshall dean. yes, he had come to call the very evening of their arrival. he had escorted them out, papa and pappoose, to hear the band playing on the plain. he had made her take his arm, "a schoolgirl in short dresses," and promenaded with her up and down the beautiful, shaded walks, thronged with ladies, officers and cadets, while some old cronies took father away to the mess for a julep, and mr. dean had introduced some young girls, professors' daughters, and they had come and taken her driving and to tea, and she had seen him every day, many times a day, at guard mounting, drill, pontooning or parade, or on the hotel piazzas, but only to look at or speak to for a minute, for of course she was "only a child," and there were dozens of society girls, young ladies, to whom he had to be attentive, especially a very stylish miss brockway, from new york, with whom he walked and danced a great deal, and whom the other girls tried to tease about him. pappoose didn't write it in so many words, but jessie, reading those letters between the lines and every which way, could easily divine that pappoose didn't fancy miss brockway at all. and then had come a wonderful day, a wonderful thing, into the schoolgirl's life. no less than twelve pages did sixteen-year-old pappoose take to tell it, and when a girl finds time to write a twelve-page letter from the point she has more to tell than she can possibly contain. mr. dean had actually invited her--_her_, elinor merchant folsom--winona, as they called her when she was a toddler among the tepees of the sioux--pappoose as the girls had named her at school--"nell," as jessie called her--sweetest name of all despite the ring of sadness that ever hangs about it--and daddy had actually smiled and approved her going to the midweek hop on a cadet captain's broad chevroned arm, and she had worn her prettiest white gown, and the girls had brought her roses, and mr. dean had called for her before all the big girls, and she had gone off with him, radiant, and he had actually made out her card for her, and taken three dances himself, and had presented such pleasant fellows--first classmen and "yearlings." there was mr. billings, the cadet adjutant, and mr. ray, who was a cadet sergeant "out on furlough" and kept back, but such a beautiful dancer, and there was the first captain, such a witty, brilliant fellow, who only danced square dances, and several cadet corporals, all hop managers, in their red sashes. why, she was just the proudest girl in the room! and when the drum beat and the hop broke up she couldn't believe she'd been there an hour and three-quarters, and then mr. dean escorted her back to the hotel, and daddy had smiled and looked on and told him he must come into the cavalry when he graduated next june, and he'd show him the sioux country and pappoose would teach him the indian dances. it was all simply lovely. of course she knew it was all due to jessie that her splendid big brother should give up a whole evening from his lady friends. (miss brockway spoke so patronizingly to her in the hall when the girls were all talking together after the cadets had scurried away to answer tattoo roll-call.) of course she understood that if it hadn't been for jessie none of the cadets would have taken the slightest notice of her, a mere chit, with three years of school still ahead of her. but all the same it was something to live over and over again, and dream of over and over again, and the seashore seemed very stupid after the point. next year--next june--when marshall graduated jessie was to go and see that wonderful spot, and go she did with pappoose, too, and though it was all as beautiful as pappoose had described, and the scene and the music and the parades and all were splendid, there was no deliriously lovely hop, for in those days there could be no dancing in the midst of examinations. there was only the one great ball given by the second to the graduating class, and marshall had so many, many other and older girls to dance with and say good-by to he had only time for a few words with his sister and her shy, silent little friend with the big brown eyes to whom he had been so kind the previous summer, when there were three hops a week and not so many hoppers in long dresses. still, marshall had one dance with each and introduced nice boys from the lower classes, and it was all very well, only not what pappoose had painted, and jessie couldn't help thinking and saying it might all have been so much sweeter if it hadn't been for that odious miss brockway, about whom marshall hovered altogether too much, but, like the little indian the girls sometimes said she was, pappoose looked on and said nothing. all the same, mr. dean had had a glorious graduation summer of it, though jessie saw too little of him, and pappoose nothing at all after the breakup of the class. in september the girls returned to school, friends as close as ever, even though a little cloud overshadowed the hitherto unbroken confidences, and marshall joined the cavalry, as old folsom had suggested, and took to the saddle, the prairie, the bivouac, and buffalo hunt as though native and to the manner born. they were building the union pacific then, and he and his troop, with dozens of others scattered along the line, were busy scouting the neighborhood, guarding the surveyors, the engineers, and finally the track-layers, for the jealous red men swarmed in myriads all along the way, lacking only unanimity, organization, and leadership to enable them to defeat the enterprise. and then when the whistling engines passed the forks of the platte and began to climb up the long slope of the rockies to cheyenne and sherman pass, the trouble and disaffection spread to tribes far more numerous and powerful further to the north and northwest; and there rose above the hordes of warriors a chief whose name became the synonym for deep rooted and determined hostility to the whites--machpealota (red cloud)--and old john folsom, he whom the indians loved and trusted, grew anxious and troubled, and went from post to post with words of warning on his tongue. "gentlemen," he said to the commissioners who came to treat with the sioux whose hunting grounds adjoined the line of the railway, "it's all very well to have peace with these people here. it is wise to cultivate the friendship of such chiefs as spotted tail and old-man-afraid-of-his-horses but there are irreconcilables beyond them, far more numerous and powerful, who are planning, preaching war this minute. watch red cloud, red dog, little big man. double, treble your garrisons at the posts along the big horn; get your women and children out of them, or else abandon the forts entirely. i know those warriors well. they outnumber you twenty to one. reinforce your garrisons without delay or get out of that country, one of the two. draw everything south of the platte while yet there is time." but wiseacres at washington said the indians were peaceable, and all that was needed was a new post and another little garrison at warrior gap, in the eastward foothills of the range. eight hundred thousand dollars would build it, "provided the labor of the troops was utilized," and leave a good margin for the contractors and "the bureau." and it was to escort the quartermaster and engineer officer and an aide-de-camp on preliminary survey that "c" troop of the cavalry, captain brooks commanding, had been sent on the march from the north platte at frayne to the headwaters of the powder river in the hills, and with it went its new first lieutenant, marshall dean. chapter ii. promotion was rapid in the cavalry in those days, so soon after the war. indians contributed largely to the general move, but there were other causes, too. dean had served little over a year as second lieutenant in a troop doing duty along the lower platte, when vacancies occurring gave him speedy and unlooked-for lift. he had met mr. folsom only once. the veteran trader had embarked much of his capital in business at gate city beyond the rockies, but officers from fort emory, close to the new frontier town, occasionally told him he had won a stanch friend in that solid citizen. "you ought to get transferred to emory," they said. "here's the band, half a dozen pretty girls, hops twice a week, hunts and picnics all through the spring and summer in the mountains, fishing _ad libitum_, and lots of fun all the year around." but dean's ears were oddly deaf. a classmate let fall the observation that it was because of a new york girl who had jilted him that dean had forsworn society and stuck to a troop in the field: but men who knew and served with the young fellow found him an enthusiast in his profession, passionately fond of cavalry life in the open, a bold rider, a keen shot and a born hunter. up with the dawn day after day, in saddle long hours, scouting the divides and ridges, stalking antelope and black-tail deer, chasing buffalo, he lived a life that hardened every muscle, bronzed the skin, cleared the eye and brain, and gave to even monotonous existence a "verve" and zest the dawdlers in those old-time garrisons never knew. all the long summer of the year after his graduation, from mid-april until november, he never once slept beneath a wooden roof, and more often than not the sky was his only canopy. that summer, too, jessie spent at home, pappoose with her most of the time, and one year more would finish them at the reliable old ohio school. by that time folsom's handsome new home would be in readiness to receive his daughter at gate city. by that time, too, marshall might hope to have a leave and come in to illinois to welcome his sister and gladden his mother's eyes. but until then, the boy had said to himself, he'd stick to the field, and the troop that had the roughest work to do was the one that best suited him, and so it had happened that by the second spring of his service in the regiment no subaltern was held in higher esteem by senior officers or regarded with more envy by the lazy ones among the juniors than the young graduate, for those, too, were days in which graduates were few and far between, except in higher grades. twice had he ridden in the dead of winter the devious trail through the medicine bow range to frayne. once already had he been sent the long march to and from the big horn, and when certain officers were ordered to the mountains early in the spring to locate the site of the new post at warrior gap, brooks's troop, as has been said, went along as escort and brooks caught mountain fever in the hills, or some such ailment, and made the home trip in the ambulance, leaving the active command of "c" troop to his subaltern. with the selection of the site dean had nothing to do. silently he looked on as the quartermaster, the engineer, and a staff officer from omaha paced off certain lines, took shots with their instruments at neighboring heights, and sampled the sparkling waters of the fork. two companies of infantry, sent down from further posts along the northern slopes of the range, had stacked their arms and pitched their "dog tents," and vigilant vedettes and sentries peered over every commanding height and ridge to secure the invaders against surprise. invaders they certainly were from the indian point of view, for this was indian story land, the most prized, the most beautiful, the most prolific in fish and game in all the continent. never had the red man clung with such tenacity to any section of his hunting grounds as did the northern sioux to this, the north and northeast watershed of the big horn range. old indian fighters among the men shook their heads when the quartermaster selected a level bench as the site on which to begin the stockade that was to enclose the officers' quarters and the barracks, storehouse and magazine, and ominously they glanced at one another and then at the pine-skirted ridge that rose, sharp and sudden, against the sky, not four hundred yards away, dominating the site entirely. "i shouldn't like the job of clearing away the gang of indians that might seize that ridge," said dean, when later asked by the engineer what he thought of it, and dean had twice by that time been called upon to help "hustle" indians out of threatening positions, and knew whereof he spoke. "i shouldn't worry over things you're never likely to have to do," said the quartermaster, with sarcastic emphasis, and he was a man who never yet had had to face a foeman in the field, and dean said nothing more, but felt right well he had no friend in major burleigh. they left the infantry there to guard the site and protect the gang of woodchoppers set to work at once, then turned their faces homeward. they had spent four days and nights at the gap, and the more the youngster saw of the rotund quartermaster the less he cared to cultivate him. a portly, heavily built man was he, some forty years of age, a widower, whose children were at their mother's old home in the far east, a business man with a keen eye for opportunities and investments, a fellow who was reputed to have stock in a dozen mines and kindred enterprises, a knowing hand who drove fast horses and owned quite a stable, a sharp hand who played a thriving game of poker, and had no compunctions as to winning. officers at emory were fighting shy of him. he played too big a game for their small pay and pockets, and the men with whom he took his pleasure were big contractors or well-known "sports" and gamblers, who in those days thronged the frontier towns and most men did them homage. but on this trip burleigh had no big gamblers along and missed his evening game, and, once arrived at camp along the fork, he had "roped in" some of the infantry officers, but brooks and the engineer declined to play, and so had dean from the very start. "all true cavalrymen ought to be able to take a hand at poker," sneered burleigh, at the first night's camp, for here was a pigeon really worth the plucking, thought he. dean's life in the field had been so simple and inexpensive that he had saved much of his slender pay; but, what burleigh did not know, he had sent much of it home to mother and jess. "i know several men who would have been the better for leaving it alone," responded dean very quietly. they rubbed each other the wrong way from the very start, and this was bad for the boy, for in those days, when army morals were less looked after than they are now, men of burleigh's stamp, with the means to entertain and the station to enable them to do it, had often the ear of officers from headquarters, and more things were told at such times to generals and colonels about their young men than the victims ever suspected. burleigh was a man of position and influence, and knew it. dean was a youngster without either, and did not realize it. he had made an enemy of the quartermaster on the trip and could not but know it. yet, conscious that he had said nothing that was wrong, he felt no disquiet. and now, homeward bound, he was jogging contentedly along at the head of the troop. scouts and flankers signaled "all clear." not a hostile indian had they seen since leaving the gap. the ambulances with a little squad of troopers had hung on a few moments at the noon camp, hitching slowly and leisurely that their passengers might longer enjoy their post prandial siesta in the last shade they would see until they reached cantonment reno, a long day's ride away. presently the lively mule teams would come along the winding trail at spanking trot. then the troop would open out to right and left and let them take the lead, giving the dust in exchange, and once more the rapid march would begin. it was four p. m. when the shadows of the mules' ears and heads came jerking into view beside him, and, guiding his horse to the right, dean loosed rein and prepared to trot by the open doorway of the stout, black-covered wagon. the young engineer officer, sitting on the front seat, nodded cordially to the cavalryman. he had known and liked him at the point. he had sympathized with him in the vague difference with the quartermaster. he had had to listen to sneering things burleigh was telling the aide-de-camp about young linesmen in general and dean in particular, stocking the staff officer with opinions which he hoped and intended should reach the department commander's ears. the engineer disbelieved, but was in no position to disprove. his station was at omaha, far from the scene of cavalry exploits in fort or field. burleigh's office and depot were in this new, crowded, bustling frontier town, filled with temptation to men so far removed from the influences of home and civilization, and burleigh doubtless saw and knew much to warrant his generalities. but he knew no wrong of dean, for that young soldier, as has been said, had spent all but a few mid-winter months at hard, vigorous work in the field, had been to gate city and fort emory only twice, and then under orders that called for prompt return to frayne. any man with an eye for human nature could see at a glance, as dean saw, that both the aid and his big friend, the quartermaster, had been exchanging comments at the boy's expense. he had shouted a cheery salutation to the engineer in answer to his friendly nod, then turned in saddle and looked squarely at the two on the back seat, and the constraint in their manner, the almost sullen look in their faces, told the story without words. it nettled dean--frank, outspoken, straightforward as he had always been. he hated any species of backbiting, and he had heard of burleigh as an adept in the art, and a man to be feared. signaling to his sergeant to keep the column opened out, as the prairie was almost level now on every side, he rode swiftly on, revolving in his mind how to meet and checkmate burleigh's insidious moves, for instinctively he felt he was already at work. the general in command in those days was not a field soldier by any means. his office was far away at the banks of the missouri, and all he knew of what was actually going on in his department he derived from official written reports; much that was neither official nor reliable he learned from officers of burleigh's stamp, and dean had never yet set eyes on him. in the engineer he felt he had a friend on whom he could rely, and he determined to seek his counsel at the campfire that very night, meantime to hold his peace. they were trotting through a shallow depression at the moment, the two spring-wagons guarded and escorted by some thirty dusty, hardy-looking troopers. in the second, the yellow ambulance, brooks was stretched at length, taking it easy, an attendant jogging alongside. behind them came a third, a big quartermaster's wagon, drawn by six mules and loaded with tentage and rations. out some three hundred yards to the right and left rode little squads as flankers. out beyond them, further still, often cut off from view by low waves of prairie, were individual troopers riding as lookouts, while far to the front, full six hundred yards, three or four others, spreading over the front on each side of the twisting trail, moved rapidly from crest to crest, always carefully scanning the country ahead before riding up to the summit. and now, as dean's eyes turned from his charges to look along the sky line to the east, he saw sudden sign of excitement and commotion at the front. a sergeant, riding with two troopers midway between him and those foremost scouts, was eagerly signaling to him with his broad-brimmed hat. three of the black dots along the gently rising slope far ahead had leaped from their mounts and were slowly crawling forward, while one of them, his horse turned adrift and contentedly nibbling at the buffalo grass, was surely signaling that there was mischief ahead. in an instant the lieutenant was galloping out to the front, cautioning the driver to come on slowly. presently he overhauled the sergeant and bade him follow, and together the four men darted on up the gradual incline until within ten yards of where the leaders' horses were placidly grazing. there they threw themselves from saddle; one of the men took the reins of the four horses while dean and the other two, unslinging carbine and crouching low, went hurriedly on up the slope until they came within a few yards of the nearest scout. "indians!" he called to them as soon as they were within earshot. "but they don't seem to be on lookout for us at all. they're fooling with some buffalo over here." crawling to the crest, leaving his hat behind, dean peered over into the swale beyond and this was what he saw. half a mile away to the east the low, concave sweep of the prairie was cut by the jagged banks and curves of a watercourse which drained the melting snows in earlier spring. along the further bank a dozen buffalo were placidly grazing, unconscious of the fact that in the shallow, dry ravine itself half a dozen young indians--sioux, apparently--were lurking, awaiting the nearer coming of the herd, whose leaders, at least, were gradually approaching the edge. away down to the northeast, toward the distant powder river, the shallow stream bed trended, and, following the pointing finger of the scout who crawled to his side, dean gazed and saw a confused mass of slowly moving objects, betrayed for miles by the light cloud of dust that hovered over them, covering many an acre of the prairie, stretching far away down the vale. even before he could unsling his field glass and gaze, his plains-craft told him what was slowly, steadily approaching, as though to cross his front--an indian village, a big one, on the move to the mountains, bound perhaps for the famous racecourse of the sioux, a grand amphitheater in the southern hills. and even as they gazed, two tiny jets of flame and smoke shot from the ravine edge there below them, and before the dull reports could reach their ears the foremost bison dropped on his knees and then rolled over on the sod; and then came the order, at sound of which, back among the halted troopers, every carbine leaped from its socket. chapter iii. down along the building railway in the valley or the platte there had been two years of frequent encounter with small bands of indians. down along the smoky hill, in kansas, the cheyennes were ever giving trouble. even around laramie and frayne, on the north platte, settlers and soldiers had been murdered, as well as one or two officers, caught alone out hunting, and the indians were, of course, the perpetrators. nevertheless, it had been the policy of the leaders of the northern sioux to avoid any meeting in force and to deny the complicity of their people in the crimes committed. supply trains to reno, kearney and c. f. smith, the big horn posts of the bozeman trail went to and fro with guards of only moderate size. officers had taken their wives and children to these far-away stations. the stockades were filled with soldiers' families. big bands of indians roamed the lovely valleys of the piney, the tongue, and rosebud, near at hand, and rode into full view of the wary sentries at the stockades, yet made no hostile demonstration. officers and men went far up the rocky cañons of the hills in search of fish or game, and came back unmolested. escorts reported that they sometimes marched all day long side by side with hunting bands of sioux, a mile away; and often little parties, squaws and boys and young men, would ride confidently over and beg for sugar, coffee, hardtack--anything, and ride off with their plunder in the best of spirits and with all apparent good feeling. and yet the great war-chief of the brulés--sintogaliska--spotted tail, the white man's friend, gave solemn warning not to trust the ogallallas. "red cloud's heart is bad," he said. "he and his people are moving from the reservations to the mountains. they mean trouble." old traders like folsom heard and heeded, and folsom himself hastened to fort frayne the very week that burleigh and his escort left for warrior gap. visiting at the ranch of his son in a beautiful nook behind the medicine bow mountains, the veteran trader heard tidings from an indian brave that filled him with apprehension, and he hurried to the fort. "is it true," he asked, "that the government means to establish a post at warrior gap? is it true that major burleigh has gone thither?" and when told that it was and that only captain brooks's troop had gone as escort, folsom's agitation was extreme. "colonel," said he, to the post commander, "solemnly i have tried to warn the general of the danger of that move. i have told him that all the northern tribes are leaguing now, that they have determined to keep to themselves the big horn country and the valleys to the north. it will take five thousand men to hold those three posts against the sioux, and you've barely got five hundred. i warn you that any attempt to start another post up there will bring red cloud and all his people to the spot. their scouts are watching like hawks even now. iron spear came to me at my son's ranch last night and told me not ten warriors were left at the reservation. they are all gone, and the war dances are on in every valley from the black hills to the powder. for heaven's sake send half your garrison up to reno after brooks. you are safe here. they won't molest you south of the platte, at least not now. all they ask is that you build no more forts in the big horn." but the colonel could not act without authority. telegraph there was none then. what folsom said was of sufficient importance to warrant his hurrying off a courier to laramie, fully one hundred miles southeast, and ordering a troop to scout across the wild wastes to the north, while folsom himself, unable to master his anxiety, decided to accompany the command sent out toward cantonment reno. he long had had influence with the ogallallas. even now red cloud might listen if he could but find him. the matter was of such urgency he could not refrain. and so with the gray troop of the cavalry, setting forth within an hour of his coming, rode the old trader whom the indians had so long sworn by, and he started none too soon. reno was some ninety miles away, and not until late the next evening did the grays reach the lonely post. not a sign of hostile indian had been seen or heard, said the officer in command. small bands of hunters were out toward pumpkin butte two days before.--yes, ogallallas--and a scouting party, working down the valley of the powder, had met no band at all, though trails were numerous. they were now patroling toward the big horn. perhaps there'd be a courier in to-morrow. better get a good night's rest meantime, he said. but all the same he doubled his guards and ordered extra vigilance, for all men knew john folsom, and when folsom was anxious on the indian question it was time to look alive. daybreak came without a sign, but folsom could not rest. the grays had no authority to go beyond reno, but such was his anxiety that it was decided to hold the troop at the cantonment for a day or two. meantime, despite his years, folsom decided to push on for the gap. all efforts to dissuade him were in vain. with him rode baptiste, a half-breed frenchman whose mother was an ogallalla squaw, and "bat" had served him many a year. their canteens were filled, their saddle-pouches packed. they led along an extra mule, with camp equipage, and shook hands gravely with the officers ere they rode away. "all depends," said folsom, "on whether red cloud is hereabouts in person. if he is and i can get his ear i can probably stave off trouble long enough to get those people at the gap back to kearney, or over here. they're goners if they attempt to stay there and build that post. if you don't have word from us in two days, send for all the troops the government can raise. it will take every mother's son they've got to whip the sioux when once they're leagued together." "but our men have the new breech-loaders now, mr. folsom," said the officers. "the indians have only old percussion-cap rifles, and not too many of them." "but there are twenty warriors to every soldier," was the answer, "and all are fighting men." they watched the pair until they disappeared far to the west. all day long the lookouts searched the horizon. all that night the sentries listened for hoof-beats on the bozeman road, but only the weird chorus of the coyotes woke the echoes of the dark prairie. dawn of the second day came, and, unable to bear suspense, the major sent a little party, mounted on their fleetest horses, to scour the prairies at least halfway to the foothills of the big horn, and just at nightfall they came back--three at least--galloping like mad, their mounts a mass of foam. folsom's dread was well founded. red cloud, with heaven only knew how many warriors, had camped on crazy woman's fork within the past three days, and gone on up stream. he might have met and fought the troops sent out three days before. he must have met the troops dispatched to warrior gap. and this last, at least, he had done. for a few seconds after the fall of the buffalo bull, the watchers on the distant ridge lay still, except that dean, turning slightly, called to the orderly trumpeter, who had come trotting out after the troop commander, and was now halted and afoot some twenty yards down the slope. "go back, bryan," he ordered. "halt the ambulances. notify captain brooks that there are lots of indians ahead, and have the sergeant deploy the men at once." then he turned back and with his field glass studied the party along the ravine. "they can't have seen us, can they, lieutenant?" muttered the trooper nearest him. but dean's young face was grave and clouded. certainly the indians acted as though they were totally unaware of the presence of troops, but the more he thought the more he knew that no big body of sioux would be traveling across country at so critical a time (country, too, that was conquered as this was from their enemies, the crows), without vigilant scouts afar out on front and flank. the more he thought the more he knew that even as early as three o'clock those keen-eyed fellows must have sighted his little column, conspicuous as it was because of its wagons. beyond question, he told himself, the chief of the band or village so steadily approaching from the northeast had full information of their presence, and was coming confidently ahead. what had he to fear? even though the blood of settlers and soldiers might still be red upon the hands of his braves, even though fresh scalps might be dangling at this moment from their shields, what mattered it? did he not know that the safeguard of the indian bureau spread like the wing of a protecting angel over him and his people, forbidding troops to molest or open fire unless they themselves were attacked? did he not laugh in his ragged shirt sleeve at the policy of the white fool who would permit the red enemy to ride boldly up to his soldiers, count their numbers, inspect their array, satisfy himself as to their armament and readiness, then calculate the chances, and, if he thought the force too strong, ride on his way with only a significant gesture in parting insult? if, on the contrary, he found it weak then he could turn loose his braves, surround, massacre and scalp, and swear before the commissioners sent out to investigate next moon that he and his people knew nothing about the matter--nothing, at least, that they could be induced to tell. one moment more dean watched and waited. two of the indians in the ravine were busily reloading their rifles. two others were aiming over the bank, for, with the strange stupidity of their kind, the other buffalo, even when startled by the shot, had never sought safety in flight, but were now sniffing the odor of blood on the tainted air, and slowly, wonderingly drawing near the stricken leader as though to ask what ailed him. obedient and docile, the indian ponies stood with drooping heads, hidden under the shelter of the steep banks. nearer and nearer came the big black animals, bulky, stupid, fatuous; the foremost lowered a huge head to sniff at the blood oozing from the shoulder of the dying bull, then two more shots puffed out from the ravine, the huge head tossed suddenly in air, and the ungainly brute started and staggered, whirled about and darted a few yards away, then plunged on its knees, and the next moment, startled at some sight the soldier watchers could not see, the black band was seized with sudden panic, and darted like mad into the depths of the watercourse, disappeared one moment from sight, then, suddenly reappearing, came laboring up the hither side, straight for the crest on which they lay, a dozen black, bounding, panting beasts thundering over the ground, followed by half a dozen darting indian ponies, each with his lithe red rider scurrying in pursuit. "out of the way, men! don't fire!" shouted dean. and, scrambling back toward their horses, the lieutenant and his men drew away from the front of the charging herd, invisible as yet to the halted troop and to the occupants of the ambulance, whose eager heads could be seen poked out at the side doors of the leading vehicle, as though watching for the cause of the sudden halt. and then a thing happened that at least one man saw and fortunately remembered later. bryan, the trumpeter, with jabbing heels and flapping arms, was tearing back toward the troop at the moment at the top speed of his gray charger, already so near that he was shouting to the sergeant in the lead. by this time, too, that veteran trooper, with the quick sense of duty that seemed to inspire the war-time sergeant, had jumped his little column "front into line" to meet the unseen danger; so that now, with carbines advanced, some thirty blue jackets were aligned in the loose fighting order of the prairies in front of the foremost wagon. the sight of the distant officer and men tumbling hurriedly back and to one side, out of the way presumably of some swiftly-coming peril, acted like magic on the line. carbines were quickly brought to ready, the gun locks crackling in chorus as the horses pranced and snorted. but it had a varying effect on the occupants of the leading wagon. the shout of "indians" from bryan's lips, the sight of scurry on the ridge ahead brought the engineer and aide-de-camp springing out, rifle in hand, to take their manly part in the coming fray. it should have brought major burleigh too, but that appropriately named non-combatant never showed outside. an instant more and to the sound of rising thunder, before the astonished eyes of the cavalry line there burst into view, full tear for safety, the uncouth, yet marvelously swift-running leaders of the little herd. the whole dozen came flying across the sky line and down the gentle slope, heading well around to the left of the line of troopers, while sticking to their flanks like red nettles half a dozen young warriors rode like the wind on their nimble ponies, cracking away with revolver or rifle in savage joy in the glorious sport. too much for burleigh's nerve was the combination of sounds, thunder of hoofs and sputter of shots, for when a cheer of sympathetic delight went up from the soldier line at sight of the chase, and the young engineer sprang to the door of the ambulance to help the major out, he found him a limp and ghastly heap, quivering with terror in the bottom of the wagon, looking for all the world as if he were trying to crawl under the seat. chapter iv. away to the left of the little command tore the quarry and the chase. out on the rolling prairie, barely four hundred yards from where the ambulance and mules were backed into a tangle of traces and whiffletrees and fear-stricken creatures, another buffalo had dropped in a heap; a swarthy rider had tumbled off his pony, cut a slash or two with ever-ready knife, and then, throwing a bead bedizened left leg over his eager little mount, had gone lashing away after his fellows, not without a jeering slap at the baited soldiery. then, in almost less time than it takes to tell it, the pursued and pursuers had vanished from sight over a low ridge a mile to the north. "only a hunting party!" said one or two nervous recruits, with a gulp of relief. "only a hunting party," gasped burleigh, as presently he heaved himself up from the floor, "and i thought i'd never find that damned gun of mine. all this fuss for nothing!" he continued, his lips still blue and quivering. "that green youngster up there in front hasn't learned the first principles of plains-craft yet. here, brooks," he added loudly, "it's high time you were looking after this sub of yours," and brooks, despite his illness, was indeed working out of the back door of his yellow trundle bed at the moment, and looking anxiously about. but the engineer stood pale and quiet, coolly studying the flustered growler, and when burleigh's shifting eyes sought that young scientist's face, what he read there--and burleigh was no fool--told him he would be wise to change the tune. the aid had pushed out in front of the troop and was signaling to dean, once more in saddle and scanning through his glass the big band afar down the valley. "take my horse, sir," said the sergeant, dismounting, and the officer thanked him and rode swiftly out to join the young commander at the front. together they gazed and consulted and still no signal came to resume the advance. then the troopers saw the staff officer make a broad sweep with his right arm to the south, and in a moment dean's hat was uplifted and waved well out in that direction. "drop carbine," growled the sergeant. "by twos again. incline to the right. damn the sioux, i say! have we got to circle five miles around their hunting ground for fear of hurting their feelings. come on. jimmy," he added to the driver of the leading wagon. jimmy responded with vigorous language at the expense of his lead mules. the quartermaster and engineer silently scrambled in; the ambulance started with a jerk and away went the party off to the right of the trail, the wagons jolting a bit now over the uneven clumps of bunch grass. but once well up at the summit of the low divide the command reined in for a look at the great indian cavalcade swarming in the northeastward valley, and covering its grassy surface still a good mile away. out from among the dingy mass came galloping half a dozen young braves, followed by as many squaws. the former soon spread out over the billowy surface, some following the direction of the chase, some bounding on south west ward as though confident of finding what they sought the moment they reached the nearest ridge; some riding straight to the point where lay the carcasses of the earliest victims of the hunt. here in full view of the soldiery, but vouchsafing them no glance nor greeting whatever, two young warriors reined in their lively ponies and disdainfully turned their backs upon the spectators on the divide, while the squaws, with shrill laugh and chatter, rolled from their saddles and began the drudgery of their lot--skinning and cutting up the buffalos slaughtered by their lords. "don't you see," sneered burleigh, "it's nothing but a village out for a hunt--nothing in god's world to get stampeded about. we've had all this show of warlike preparation for nothing." but he turned away again as he caught the steady look in the engineer's blue eyes, and shouted to his more appreciative friend, the aide-de-camp: "well, pardner, haven't we fooled away enough time here, or have we got to wait the pleasure of people that never saw indians before?" dean flushed crimson at the taunt. he well knew for whom it was meant. he was indignant enough by this time to speak for himself, but the aide-de-camp saved him the trouble. "i requested mr. dean to halt a few moments, burleigh. it is necessary i should know what band this is, and how many are out." "well, be quick about it," snapped the quartermaster, "i want to get to reno before midnight, and at this rate we won't make it in a week." a sergeant who could speak a little sioux came riding back to the camp, a grin on his sun-blistered face. "well, sergeant, what'd he say?" asked the staff officer. "he said would i plaze to go to hell, sorr," was the prompt response. "won't he tell who they are?" "he won't, sorr. he says we know widout askin', which is thrue, sorr. they're ogallallas to a man, barrin' the squaws and pappooses, wid ould red cloud himself." "how'd you find out if they wouldn't talk?" asked the staff officer impatiently. "'twas the bucks wouldn't talk--except in swear wurruds. i wasted no time on them, sorr. i gave the first squaw the last hardtack in me saddle-bags and tould her was it machpealota, and she said it was, and he was wid box karesha--that's ould folsom--not six hour ago, an' folsom's gone back to the cantonment." "then the quicker we skip the better," were the aide-de-camp's words. "get us to reno fast as you can, dean. strike for the road again as soon as we're well beyond their buffalo. now for it! there's something behind all this bogus hunt business, and folsom knows what it is." and every mile of the way, until thick darkness settled down over the prairie, there was something behind the trooper cavalcade--several somethings--wary red men, young and wiry, who never let themselves be seen, yet followed on over wave after wave of prairie to look to it that no man went back from that column to carry the news of their presence to the little battalion left in charge of the new post at warrior gap. it was the dark of the moon, or, as the indians say, "the nights the moon is sleeping in his lodge," and by ten p. m. the skies were overcast. only here and there a twinkling star was visible, and only where some trooper struck a light for his pipe could a hand be seen in front of the face. the ambulance mules that had kept their steady jog during the late afternoon and the long gloaming that followed still seemed able to maintain the gait, and even the big, lumbering wagon at the rear came briskly on under the tug of its triple span, but in the intense darkness the guides at the head of the column kept losing the road, and the bumping of the wagons would reveal the fact, and a halt would be ordered, men would dismount and go bending and crouching and feeling their way over the almost barren surface, hunting among the sage brush for the double furrow of the trail. matches innumerable were consumed, and minutes of valuable time, and the quartermaster waxed fretful and impatient, and swore that his mules could find their way where the troopers couldn't, and finally, after the trail had been lost and found half a dozen times, old brooks was badgered into telling dean to let the ambulance take the lead. the driver shirked at once. "there's no tellin' where we'll fetch up," said he. "those mules can't see the trail if a man can't. take their harness off and turn 'em loose, an' i suppose they can find their way to the post, but sure as you turn them loose when they've got somethin' on 'em, or behind 'em, and the doggone cussedness of the creatures will prompt them to smash things." but the quartermaster said he'd tried it with those very mules, between emory and medicine bow a dozen times, and he'd risk it. the driver could get off his seat if he wanted to, and run alongside, but he'd stay where he was. "let me out, please," said the engineer, and jumped to the ground, and then the cavalcade pushed on again. the driver, as ordered by an employer whom he dare not disobey, let the reins drop on the mules' backs, the troopers falling behind, the yellow ambulance and the big baggage wagon bringing up the rear. then, with a horseman on each side, the mules were persuaded to push on again, and then when fairly started burleigh called to the troopers to fall back, so that the mules should not, as he expressed it, "be influenced." "leave them to themselves and they can get along all right," said he, "but mix them up with the horses, and they want them to take all the responsibility." and now the command was barely crawling. brooks, heavy, languid with splitting headache, lay in feverish torpor in his ambulance, asking only to be let alone. the engineer, a subaltern as yet, felt that he had no right attempting to advise men like burleigh, who proclaimed himself an old campaigner. the aide-de-camp was getting both sleepy and impatient, but he, too, was much the quartermaster's junior in rank. as for dean, he had no volition whatever. "escort the party," were his orders, and that meant that he must govern the movements of his horses and men by the wishes of the senior staff official. and so they jogged along perhaps twenty minutes more, and then there was a sudden splutter and plunge and stumble ahead, a sharp pull on the traces, a marvelously quick jerk back on the reins that threw the wheel team on their haunches, and thereby saved the "outfit," for when men and matches were hurried to the front the lead mules were discovered kicking and splashing in a mud hole. they were not only off the road by a dozen yards, but over a bank two feet high. and this last pound broke the back of burleigh's obstinacy. it was nearly midnight anyway. the best thing to be done was unhitch, unsaddle and bivouac until the gray light of dawn came peering over the eastward prairie, which in that high latitude and "long-day" month would be soon after three. then they could push on to reno. not until nearly eight o'clock in the morning, therefore, did they heave in sight of the low belt of dingy green that told of the presence of a stream still long miles away; and here, knowing himself to be out of danger, the major bade the weary escort march in at a walk while he hurried on. in fifteen minutes the black-hooded wagon was twisting and turning over the powdery road a good mile ahead, its dust rising high over the sage-covered desert, while the other two, with the dust-begrimed troopers, jogged sturdily on. loring, the young engineer, had waved a cordial good-by to his old cadet acquaintance. "see you later, old man," he cried. stone, the aide-de-camp, nodded and said, "take care of yourself," and burleigh said nothing at all. he was wondering what he could do to muzzle loring in case that gifted young graduate were moved to tell what the quartermaster actually did when he heard the rush and firing out at the front on the road from warrior gap. but when at last the black wagon bowled in at the stockaded quadrangle and discharged its occupants at the hut of the major commanding, there were tidings of such import to greet them that burleigh turned yellow-white again at thought of the perils they had escaped. "my god, man!" cried the post commander, as he came hurrying out to meet the party, "we've been in a blue funk about you fellows for two whole days. did you see any indians?" "see any indians!" said burleigh, rallying to the occasion as became a man who knew how to grasp an opportunity. "we stood off the whole sioux nation over toward crazy woman's fork. there were enough to cover the country, red and black, for a dozen miles. we sighted them yesterday about four o'clock and there were enough around us to eat us alive, but we just threw out skirmish lines and marched steadily ahead, so they thought best not to bother us. they're shy of our breech loaders, damn 'em! that's all that kept them at respectful distance." the major's face as he listened took on a puzzled, perturbed look. he did not wish to say anything that might reflect on the opinions of so influential a man as the depot quartermaster at gate city, but it was plain that there was a train of thought rumbling through his mind that would collide with burleigh's column of events unless he were spared the need of answering questions. "let me tell you briefly what's happened," he said. "red cloud and his whole band are out on the warpath. they killed two couriers, half-breeds, i sent out to find thornton's troop that was scouting the dry fork. the man we sent to find you and give you warning hasn't got back at all. we've had double sentries for three days and nights. the only souls to get in from the northwest since our fellows were run back last night are old folsom and baptiste. folsom had a talk with red cloud, and tried to induce him to turn back. he's beset with the idea that the old villain is plotting a general massacre along the big horn. he looks like a ghost. he says if we had five thousand soldiers up there there'd hardly be enough. you know the sioux have sworn by him for years, and he thought he could coax red cloud to keep away, but all the old villain would promise was to hold his young men back ten days or so until folsom could get the general to order the warrior gap plan abandoned. if the troops are there folsom says it's all up with them. red cloud can rally all the northern tribes, and it's only because of folsom's influence, at least i fancy so--that--that they didn't attack you." "where is folsom?" growled burleigh, as he shook the powdery cloud from his linen duster and followed the major within his darkened door, while other officers hospitably led the aid and engineer into the adjoining hut. "gone right on to frayne. the old fellow will wear himself out, i'm afraid. he says he must get in telegraphic communication with omaha before he's four days older. my heaven, man, it was a narrow squeak you had! it's god's mercy folsom saw red cloud before he saw you." "oh, pshaw!" said the quartermaster, turning over a little packet of letters awaiting him in the commanding officer's sanctum. "we could have given a good account of ourselves, i reckon. brooks is down with fever, and young dean got rattled, or something like it. he's new at the business and easily scared, you know; so i practically had to take command. they'll be along in an hour or so, and--a word in your ear. if brooks has to remain on sick report you'd better put somebody in command of that troop that's had--er--er--experience." the post commander looked genuinely troubled. "why, burleigh, we've all taken quite a shine to dean. i know the officers in his regiment think a heap of him; the seniors do, at least." but burleigh, with big eyes, was glaring at a letter he had selected, opened, and was hurriedly reading. his face was yellowing again, under the blister of sun and alkali. "what's amiss?" queried his friend. "nothing wrong, i hope. why, burleigh, man! here, let me help you!" he cried in alarm, for the quartermaster was sinking into a chair. "you can help me!" he gasped. "get me fresh mules and escort. my god! i must start for frayne at once. some whisky, please." and the letter dropped from his trembling hands and lay there unnoticed on the floor. chapter v. mid june had come, and there was the very devil to pay--so said the scouts and soldiers up along the big horn. but scouts and soldiers were far removed from the states and cities where news was manufactured, and those were days in which our indian outbreaks were described in the press long after, instead of before, their occurrence. such couriers as had got through to frayne brought dispatches from the far-isolated posts along that beautiful range, insisting that the sioux were swarming in every valley. such dispatches, when wired to washington and "referred" to the department of the interior and re-referred to the head of the indian bureau, were scoffed at as sensational. "our agents report the indians peaceably assembled at their reservations. none are missing at the weekly distribution of supplies except those who are properly accounted for as out on their annual hunt." "the officers," said the papers, "seem to see red indians in every bush," and unpleasant things were hinted at the officers as a consequence. indians there certainly were in other sections, and they were unquestionably "raising the devil" along the smoky hill and the southern plains, and there the interior department insisted that troops in strong force should be sent. so, too, along the line of the union pacific. officials were still nervous. troops of cavalry camped at intervals of forty miles along the line between kearney and julesburg, and even beyond. at washington and the great cities of the east, therefore, there was no anxiety as to the possible fate of those little garrisons, with their helpless charge of women and children away up in the heart of the sioux country. but at laramie and frayne and emory, the nearest frontier posts; at cheyenne, omaha and gate city the anxiety was great. when john folsom said the indians meant a war of extermination people west of the missouri said: "withdraw those garrisons while there is yet time or else send five thousand troops to help them." but people east of the missouri said: "who the devil is john folsom? what does he know about it? here's what the indian agents say, and that's enough," and people east of the missouri being vastly in the majority, neither were the garrisons relieved nor the reinforcements sent. what was worse, john folsom's urgent advice that they discontinue at once all work at warrior gap and send the troops and laborers back to reno was pooh-poohed. "the contracts have been let and signed. the material is all on its way. we can't hack out now," said the officials. "send runners to red cloud and get him in for a talk. promise him lots of presents. yes, if he must have them, tell him he shall have breech-loaders and copper cartridges, like the soldiers--to shoot buffalo with, of course. promise him pretty much anything to be good and keep his hands off a little longer till we get that fort and the new agency buildings finished, and then let him do what he likes." such were the instructions given the commissioners and interpreters hurried through gate city and frayne, and on up to reno just within the limit fixed by folsom. red cloud and his chiefs came in accordingly, arrayed in pomp, paint and finery; shook hands grimly with the representatives of the great father, critically scanned the proffered gifts, disdainfully rejected the muzzle-loading rifles and old dragoon horse-pistols heaped before him. "got heap better," was his comment, and nothing but brand new breech-loaders would serve his purpose. promise them and he'd see what could be done to restrain his young men. but they were "pretty mad," he said, and couldn't be relied upon to keep the peace unless sure of getting better arms and ammunition to help them break it next time. it was only temporizing. it was only encouraging the veteran war-chief in his visions of power and control. the commissioners came back beaming, "everything satisfactorily arranged. red cloud and his people are only out for a big hunt." but officers whose wives and children prayed fearfully at night within the puny wooden stockades, and listened trembling to the howls and tom-toms of the dancing indians around the council fires in the neighboring valleys, wished to heaven they had left those dear ones in safety at their eastern homes--wished to heaven they could send them thither now, but well knew that it was too late. only as single spies, riding by night, hiding by day, were couriers able to get through from the big horn to the platte. of scouts and soldiers sent at different times since the middle of may, seven were missing, and never, except through vague boastings of the indians, were heard of again. "it is a treacherous truce, i tell you," said folsom, with grave, anxious face, to the colonel commanding fort emory. "i have known red cloud twenty years. he's only waiting a few weeks to see if the government will be fool enough to send them breech-loaders. if it does, he'll be all the better able to fight a little later on. if it doesn't he will make it his _casus belli_." and the veteran colonel listened, looked grave, and said he had done his utmost to convince his superiors. he could do no more. it was nearly three hundred miles by the winding mountain road from gate city to warrior gap. over hill and dale and mountain pass the road ran to frayne, thence, fording the north platte, the wagon trains, heavily guarded, had to drag over miles of dreary desert, over shadeless slopes and divides to the dry wash of the powder, and by roads deep in alkali dust and sage brush to cantonment reno, where far to the west the grand range loomed up against the sky--another long day's march away to the nearest foothills, to the nearest drinkable water, and then, forty miles further still, in the heart of the grand pine-covered heights, was the rock-bound gateway to a lovely park region within, called by the sioux some wild combination of almost unpronounceable syllables, which, freely translated, gave us warrior gap, and there at last accounts, strengthened by detachments from frayne and reno, the little command of fort builders worked away, ax in hand, rifle at hand, subjected every hour to alarm from the vedettes and pickets posted thickly all about them, pickets who were sometimes found stone dead at their posts, transfixed with arrows, scalped and mutilated, and yet not once had indians in any force been seen by officers or man about the spot since the day red cloud's whole array passed brooks's troop on the reno trail, peaceably hunting buffalo. "an' divil a sowl in in the outfit," said old sergeant shaughnessy, "that hadn't his tongue in his cheek." for three months that hard-worked troop had been afield, and the time had passed and gone when its young first lieutenant had hoped for a leave to go home and see the mother and jess. his captain was still ailing and unfit for duty in saddle. he could not and would not ask for leave at such a time, and yet at the very moment when he was most earnestly and faithfully doing his whole duty at the front, slander was busy with his name long miles at the rear. something was amiss with burleigh, said his cronies at gate city. he had come hurrying back from the hills, had spent a day in his office and not a cent at the club, had taken the night express unbeknown to anybody but his chief clerk, and gone hurrying eastward. it was a time when his services were needed at the depot, too. supplies, stores, all manner of material were being freighted from gate city over the range to the platte and beyond, yet he had wired for authority to hasten to chicago on urgent personal affairs, got it and disappeared. a young regimental quartermaster was ordered in from emory to take charge of shipments and sign invoices during burleigh's temporary absence, and the only other officer whom burleigh had seen and talked with before his start was the venerable post commander. one after another the few cavalry troops (companies) on duty at emory had been sent afield until now only one was left, and three days after burleigh started there came a dispatch from department headquarters directing the sending of that one to frayne at once. captain brooks's troop, owing to the continued illness of its commander, would be temporarily withdrawn and sent back to emory to replace it. marshall dean did not know whether to be glad or sorry. soldier from top to toe, he was keenly enjoying the command of his troop. he gloried in mountain scouting, and was in his element when astride a spirited horse. then, too, the air was throbbing with rumors of indian depredations along the northward trails, and everything pointed to serious outbreak any moment, and when it came he longed to be on hand to take his share and win his name, for with such a troop his chances were better for honors and distinctions than those of any youngster he knew. therefore he longed to keep afield. on the other hand the visit paid by jessie's school friend, little "pappoose" folsom, was to be returned in kind. john folsom had begged and their mother had consented that after a week at home jess should accompany her beloved friend on a visit to her far western home. they would be escorted as far as omaha, and there folsom himself would meet them. his handsome house was ready, and, so said friends who had been invited to the housewarming, particularly well stocked as to larder and cellar. there was just one thing on which gate city gossips were enabled to dilate that was not entirely satisfactory to folsom's friends, and that was the new presiding goddess of the establishment. "what on earth does john folsom want of a housekeeper?" asked the helpmates of his friends at fort emory, and in the bustling, busy town. "why don't he marry again?" queried those who would gladly have seen some unprovided sister, niece or daughter thus cozily disposed of. it was years since elinor's mother's death, and yet john folsom seemed to mourn her as fondly as ever, and except in mid-winter, barely a month went by in which he did not make his pilgrimage to her never-neglected grave. yet, despite his vigorous years in saddle, sunshine or storm, and his thorough love for outdoor life, folsom, now well over fifty, could no longer so lightly bear the hard life of the field. he was amazed to see how his sleepless dash to head off red cloud, and his days and nights of gallop back, had told upon him. women at fort emory who looked with approving eyes on his ruddy face and trim, erect figure, all so eloquent of health, and who possibly contemplated, too, his solid bank account, and that fast-building house, the finest in gate city, had been telling him all winter long he ought to have a companion--an elder guide for miss elinor on her return; he ought to have some one to preside at his table; and honest john had promptly answered: "why, nell will do all that," which necessitated their hinting that although miss folsom would be a young lady in years, she was only a child in experience, and would be much the better for some one who could take a mother's place. "no one could do that," said john, with sudden swimming of his eyes, and that put as sudden a stop to their schemings, for the time at least, but only for the time. taking counsel together, and thinking how lovely it would be now if mr. folsom would only see how much there was in this unmarried damsel, or that widowed dame, the coterie at emory again returned to the subject, until john, in his perplexity, got the idea that propriety demanded that he should have a housekeeper against his daughter's coming, and then he did go and do, in his masculine stupidity, just exactly what they couldn't have had him do for worlds--invite a woman, of whom none of their number had ever heard, to come from omaha and take the domestic management of his hearth and home. all he knew of her was what he heard there. she was the widow of a volunteer officer who had died of disease contracted during the war. she was childless, almost destitute, accomplished, and so devoted to her church duties. she was interesting and refined, and highly educated. he heard the eulogiums pronounced by the good priest and some of his flock, and mrs. fletcher, a substantial person of some forty years at least, was duly installed. fort emory was filled with women folk and consternation--most of the men being afield. the seething question of the hour was whether they should call on her, whether she was to be received at the fort, whether she was to be acknowledged and recognized at all, and then came, _mirabile dictu_, a great government official from washington to inspect the union pacific and make speeches at various points along the road, and mrs. fletcher, mind you, walked to church the very next sunday on the honorable secretary's arm, sat by his side when he drove out to hear the band at emory, and received with him on the colonel's veranda, and that settled it. received and acknowledged and visited she had to be. she might well prove a woman worth knowing. within a fortnight she had made the new homestead blossom like the rose. within a month everything was in perfect order for the reception of elinor and her school friend--a busy, anxious month, in which folsom was flitting to and fro to reno and frayne, as we have seen; to hal's ranch in the medicine bow, to rawhide and laramie, and the reservations in northwestern nebraska; and it so happened that he was away the night major burleigh, on his way to the depot, dropped in to inquire if he could see mr. folsom a moment on important business. the servant said he was not in town--had gone, she thought, to omaha. she would inquire of mrs. fletcher, and meantime would the major step inside? step inside, and stand wonderingly at the threshold of the pretty parlor he did; and then there was a rustle of silken skirts on the floor above, and, as he turned to listen, his haggard, careworn face took on a look something like that which overspread it the night he got the letter at reno--something that told of bewilderment and perplexity as a quiet, modulated voice told the servant to tell the gentleman mr. folsom might not return for several days. burleigh had no excuse to linger, none to ask to hear that voice again; yet as he slowly descended the steps its accents were still strangely ringing in his ears. where on earth had he heard that voice before? chapter vi. the quartermaster's depot at gate city was little more than a big corral, with a double row of low, wooden sheds for the storing of clothing, camp and garrison equipage. there was a blacksmith and wagon repair shop, and a brick office building. some cottage quarters for the officer in charge and his clerks, corral master, etc., stood close at hand, while most of the employees lived in town outside the gates. a single-track spur connected the depot with the main line of the union pacific only five hundred yards away, and the command at fort emory, on the bluff above the rapid stream, furnished, much to its disgust, the necessary guard. a much bigger "plant" was in contemplation near a larger post and town on the east side of the great divide, and neither fort emory nor its charge--the quartermaster's depot--was considered worth keeping in repair, except such as could be accomplished "by the labor of troops," which was why, when he wasn't fighting indians, the frontier soldier of that day was mainly occupied in doing the odd jobs of a day laborer, without the recompense of one, or his privilege of quitting if he didn't like the job. that he should know little of drill and less of parade was, therefore, not to be wondered at. but what he didn't know about guard duty was hardly worth knowing. he had prisoners and property of every conceivable kind--indians, horse thieves, thugs and deserters, magazines and medicines, mules and munitions of war. everything had to be guarded. the fort lay a mile to the west of and two hundred feet higher than the railway hotel in the heart of the town. it looked down upon the self-styled city, and most of its womenkind did the same on the citizens, who were, it must be owned, a rather mixed lot. the sudden discovery of gold in the neighboring foothills, the fact that it promised to be the site of the division car shops and roundhouse, that the trails to the upper platte, the sweetwater, the park country to the south, and the rich game regions of the medicine bow all centered there, and that stages left no less than twice a week for some of those points, and the whole land was alive with explorers for a hundred miles around--all had tended to give gate city a remarkable boom. cheyenne and laramie, thriving frontier towns with coroners' offices in full blast from one week's end to the other, and a double force on duty sundays, confessed to and exhibited pardonable jealousy. yet there was wisdom in the warning of an old friend and fellow frontiersman, who said to folsom, "you are throwing yourself and your money away, john. there's nothing in those gold stones, there's nothing in that yawp about the machine shops; all those yarns were started by u. p. fellows with corner lots to sell. the bottom will drop out of that place inside of a year and leave you stranded." all the same had folsom bought big blocks and built his home there. it was the nearest town of promise to hal folsom's wild but beautiful home in the hills, and, almost as he loved nell, his bonny daughter, did the old trader love his stalwart son. born a wild westerner, reared among the sioux with only indians or army boys for playmates, and precious little choice in point of savagery between them, hal had grown up a natural horseman with a love for and knowledge of the animal that is accorded to few. his ambition in life was to own a stock farm. all the education he had in the world he owed to the kindness of loving-hearted army women at laramie, women who befriended him when well-nigh broken-hearted by his mother's death. early he had pitched his tent on the very spot for a ranchman's homestead, early he had fallen in love with an army girl, who married the strapping frontiersman and was now the proud mistress of the new and promising stock farm nestling in the valley of the laramie, a devoted wife and mother. the weekly stage to the railway was the event of their placid days except when some of the officers and ladies would come from either of the neighboring posts and spend a week with her and hal. from being a delicate, consumptive child, mrs. hal had developed into a buxom woman with exuberant health and spirits. life to her might have some little monotony, but few cares; many placid joys, but only one great dread--indians. john folsom, her fond father-in-law, was a man all indians trusted and most of them loved. hal folsom, her husband, had many a trusted and devoted friend among the sioux, but he had also enemies, and indian enmity, like indian love, dies hard. as boy he had sometimes triumphed in games and sports over the champions of the villages. as youth he had more than once found favor in the dark eyes that looked coldly on fiercer, fonder claimants, and one girl of the ogallallas had turned from her kith and kin, spurned more than one red lover to seek the young trader when he left the reservation to build his own nest in the medicine bow, and they told a story as pathetic as that of the favorite daughter of old sintogaliska, chief of the brulé sioux, who pined and died at laramie when she heard that the soldier she loved had come back from the far east with a pale-faced bride. there were red men of the ogallallas to whom the name of hal folsom was a taunt and insult to this day, men whom his father had vainly sought to appease, and they were burning star, the lover, and two younger braves, the brothers of the girl they swore that hal had lured away. south of the platte, as it rolled past frayne and laramie, those indians were bound by treaty not to go. north of the platte hal folsom was warned never again to venture. these were stories which were well known to the parents of the girl he wooed and won, but which probably were not fully explained to her. now, even behind the curtain of that sheltering river, with its flanking forts, even behind the barrier of the mountains of the medicine bow, she often woke at night and clutched her baby to her breast when the yelping of the coyotes came rising on the wind. there was no woman in wyoming to whom war with red cloud's people bore such dread possibility as to hal folsom's wife. and so when marshall dean came riding in one glad june morning, bronzed, and tanned, and buoyant, and tossed his reins to the orderly who trotted at his heels, while the troop dismounted and watered at the stream, mrs. folsom's heart was gladdened by his confident and joyous bearing. twice, thrice he had seen red cloud and all his braves, and there was nothing, said he, to worry about. "ugly, of course they are; got some imaginary grievances and talk big about the warpath. why, what show would those fellows have with their old squirrel rifles and gas-pipe springfields against our new breech-loaders? they know it as well as we do. it's all a bluff, mrs. folsom. you mark my words," said he, and really the boy believed it. frequent contact in the field with the red warriors inspires one with little respect for their skill or prowess until that contact becomes hostile, then it's time to keep every sense on guard and leave no point uncovered. "but what if the indian bureau should let them have breech-loaders?" she anxiously asked. "you know that is red cloud's demand." "oh," said dean, with confidence born of inexperience in the bureau ways, "they couldn't be such fools. besides, if they do," he added hopefully, "you'll see my troop come trotting back full tilt. now, i'm counting on a good time at emory, and on bringing your sister and mine up here to see you." "it will be just lovely," said mrs. hal, with a woman's natural but unspoken comparison between the simplicity of her ranch toilet and the probable elegancies of the young ladies' eastern costumes. "they'll find us very primitive up here in the mountains, i'm afraid; but if they like scenery and horseback riding and fishing there's nothing like it." "oh, they're coming sure. jessie's letters tell me that's one of the big treats mr. folsom has promised them. just think, they should be along this week, and i shall be stationed so near them at emory--of all places in the world." "how long is it since you have seen elinor--'pappoose,' as your sister calls her," asked mrs. hal, following the train of womanly thought then drifting through her head, as she set before her visitor a brimming goblet of buttermilk. "two years. she was at the point a day or two the summer of our graduation," he answered carelessly. "a real little indian girl she was, too, so dark and shy and silent, yet i heard professor m----'s daughters and others speak of her later; she pleased them so much, and jessie thinks there's no girl like her." "and you haven't seen her since--not even her picture?" asked mrs. hal, rising from her easy-chair. "just let me show you the one she sent hal last week. i think there's a surprise in store for you, young man," was her mental addition, as she tripped within doors. the nurse girl, a half-breed, one of the numerous progeny of the french trappers and explorers who had married among the sioux, was hushing the burly little son and heir to sleep in his indian cradle, crooning some song about the fireflies and and heecha, the big-eyed owl, and the mother stooped to press her lips upon the rounded cheek and to flick away a tear-drop, for hal d had roared lustily when ordered to his noonday nap. away to the northward the heavily wooded heights seemed tipped by fleecy, summer clouds, and off to the northeast laramie peak thrust his dense crop of pine and scrub oak above the mass of snowy vapor that floated lazily across that grim-visaged southward scarp. the drowsy hum of insects, the plash of cool, running waters fell softly on the ear. under the shade of willow and cottonwood cattle and horses were lazily switching at the swarm of gnats and flies or dozing through the heated hours of the day. out on the level flat beyond the corral the troopers had unsaddled, and the chargers, many of them stopping to roll in equine ecstasy upon the turf, were being driven out in one big herd to graze. without and within the ranch everything seemed to speak of peace and security. the master rode the range long miles away in search of straying cattle, leaving his loved ones without thought of danger. the solemn treaty that bound the sioux to keep to the north of the platte stood sole sentinel over his vine and fig tree. true there had been one or two instances of depredation, but they could be fastened on no particular band, and all the chiefs, even defiant red cloud, and insolent, swaggering little big man, denied all knowledge of the perpetrators. spotted tail, it was known, would severely punish any of his people who transgressed, but he could do nothing with the ogallallas. now they were not two hundred miles away to the north, their ranks swollen by accessions from all the disaffected villages and turbulent young braves of the swarming bands along the missouri and yellowstone, and if their demands were resisted by the government, or worse, if they were permitted to have breech-loaders or magazine rifles, then just coming into use, no shadow of doubt remained that war to the knife would follow. then how long would it be before they came charging down across the platte, east or west of frayne, and raiding those new ranches in the laramie valley? reassuring as he meant his words to be, marshall dean himself looked anxiously about at the unprotected walls. not even the customary "dugout" or underground refuge seemed to have been prepared. almost every homestead, big or little, of those days, had its tunnel from the cellar to a dugout near at hand, stocked with provisions and water and provided with loopholes commanding the neighborhood, and herein the besieged could take refuge and stand off the indians until help should come from the nearest frontier fort. "the name of folsom is our safeguard," said mrs. hal, in her happy honeymoon days, but that was before the mother told her of the threats of burning star or the story of the ogallalla girl he vainly loved. "all that happened so long ago," she murmured, when at last the tale was told. but hal should have known, if she did not, that, even when it seems to sleep, indian vengeance is but gaining force and fury. presently mrs. hall came tripping forth again, a little _carte de visite_ in her hand, a smile of no little significance on her lips. "now, mr. dean, will you tell me what you think of that for a pappoose?" and with wonderment in his eyes the young officer stood and held it and gazed. there stood pappoose, to be sure, but what a change! the little maiden with the dark braids of hair hanging far below her waist had developed into a tall, slender girl, with clear-cut, oval face, crowned by a mass of dark tresses. her heavy, low-arching brows spanned the thoughtful, deep, dark-brown eyes that seemed to speak the soul within, and the beautiful face was lighted up with a smile that showed just a peep of faultless white teeth, gleaming through the warm curves of her soft, sensitive lips. the form was exquisitely rounded, yet supple and erect. "hasn't jessie written you of how nell has grown and improved?" said mrs. hall, with a woman's quick note of the admiration and surprise in dean's regard. "she must have," was the answer, "i'm sure she has, but perhaps i thought it schoolgirl rhapsody--perhaps i had too many other things to think of." "perhaps you'll find it superseding these too many things, mr. soldier boy," was mrs. hal's mental comment. "now, sir, if you've gazed enough perhaps you'll tell me your plans," and she stretched forth a reclaiming hand. but he hung on to the prize. "let me keep it a minute," he pleaded. "it's the loveliest thing i've seen in months." and, studying his absorbed face, she yielded, her eyebrows arching, a pretty smile of feminine triumph about her lips, and neither noticed the non-commissioned officer hurrying within the gate, nor that half the men in "c" troop at their bivouac along the stream were on their feet and gazing to northeast, that far down the valley a horseman was speeding like the wind, that little puffs of smoke were rising from the crests of the grand landmark of the range and floating into the blue of the heavens. both started to their feet at the abrupt announcement. "lieutenant, there are smoke signals on lar'mie peak." chapter vii. lieutenant dean's orders required that he should march his troop without unnecessary delay to fork emory, there to take station relieving troop "f," ordered to change to frayne, which meant, in so many words, to take the field. captain brooks, still wrestling with the fever, had retired to his quarters at the old frontier fort that stood so long on the bluffs overlooking the fords of the platte. the surgeon said he must remain in bed at least a week, so meantime the troop packed up, sent its wagons ahead over the range, bade god speed to "f" as it passed through _en route_ to the front, exchanged a volley of chaff and chewing tobacco over the parting game of "freeze out" fought to a finish on many an outspread saddle blanket, then, jogged on toward gate city, making wide _détour_ at the suggestion of the field officer in command at frayne, that they might scout the laramie plains and see that all was well at folsom's ranch. this _détour_ was duly reported to the peppery veteran at fort emory, an old colonel whose command was by this time reduced from "headquarters, field, staff and band," six companies of infantry and four troops of cavalry, to the band and two desperately overworked companies of foot. "two nights in bed" were all his men could hope for, and sometimes no more than one, so grievous was the guard duty. hence "old pecksniff," his adjutant and quartermaster and his two remaining companies saw fit to take it as most unkind in lieutenant-colonel ford to authorize that diversion of dean's, and highly improper on dean's part to attempt it. by this time, too, there was in circulation at emory a story that this transfer of "c" to interior lines and away from probable contact with the sioux was not so much that it had done far more than its share of that arduous work, completely using up its captain, as that, now the captain was used up, the authorities had their doubts as to the "nerve" of the lieutenant in temporary command. a fellow who didn't care to come to emory and preferred rough duty up along the platte must be lacking in some essential particular, thought the women folk, and at the very moment that marshall dean sat there at hal folsom's ranch, as brave and hardy and capable a young officer as ever forded the platte, looking forward with pleasurable anticipations to those days to come at emory, with jessie--jessie and, of course, pappoose--so close at hand in town, there was gaining ground at the post an impression that the safety of the board of officers sent to choose the site of the new big horn post had been imperiled by dean's weakening at a critical moment in presence of a band of probably hostile sioux. burleigh had plainly intimated as much to his chief clerk and colonel stevens, and when loring and stone came through a day or two later and questions were asked about that meeting, the aide-de-camp gave it as distinctly to be understood that he had practically assumed command, dean's inexperience being manifest, and his own prompt measures had extricated the little detachment from a most delicate and dangerous position. the engineer, let it be said, did not hear this statement, and the aid was very careful not to make it in his presence. he was a comparative stranger and as no one presumed to question him, he volunteered no information. planning to bivouac until dawn of the next day at folsom's, dean had then intended to reach fort emory in three easy marches. he was anxious to bring his horses in in best possible condition, despite all their hard service; yet now, barely two o'clock on this hot june afternoon, came most unlooked-for, most importunate interruption to his plans. springing to the gate at the sergeant's summons, he first directed his gaze to the distant peak, recognized instantly the nature of the smoke puffs there rising, then turned for explanation to the swift-riding courier, whose horse's heels were making the dust fly from the sun-dried soil. one or two ranch hands, with anxious faces, came hastening over from the corral. the darkey cook rushed up from the kitchen, rifle in hand. plainly these fellows were well used to war's alarms. mrs. folsom, with staring eyes and dreadful anxiety in her face, gazed only at the hurrying courier, clinging the while to the pillar of the portico, as though needing support. the smoke puffs on the mountain, the dust-cloud back of the tearing rider were symptoms enough for dean. "get in your herd, sergeant!" he shouted at the top of his voice; and over the rushing of the laramie his words reached the rousing bivouac, and saddle blankets were sent swinging in air in signal to the distant guards, and within a few seconds every horse was headed for home; and then, to the sound of excited voices was added the rising thunder of scores of bounding hoofs, as, all in a dust-cloud of their own, the sixty chargers came galloping in, ears erect, eyes ablaze, nostrils wide, manes and tails streaming in the breeze, guided by their eager guards full tilt for camp. out ran their riders, bridles in hand, to meet and check them, every horse when within a few yards of his master seeming to settle on his haunches and plow up the turf in the sudden effort to check his speed, long months of service on the plains and in the heart of indian land having taught them in times of alarm or peril that the quicker they reached the guiding hand and bore, each, his soldier on his back, the quicker would vanish the common foe. even before the panting steed of the headlong courier came within hailing distance of the ranch, half the horses in the troop were caught and the bits were rattling between their teeth; then, as the messenger tore along the gentle slope that led to the gateway, his wearied horse laboring painfully at the rise, mrs. folsom recognized one of her husband's herdsmen, a man who had lived long years in wyoming and could be unnerved by no false alarm, and her voice went up in a shriek of fear as she read the tidings in his almost ghastly face. "where is hal?" she screamed. "oh, what has happened?" "he's safe," was the answering call, as the rider waved a reassuring hand, but at the instant he bent low. "thank god, you're here, lieutenant," he gasped. "mount quick. hal's corralled two miles out there under the butte--sioux!" and then they saw that he was swooning, that the blood was streaming down the left thigh and leg, and before hand could help him, he rolled senseless, doubled up in the dust at his horse's feet, and the weary creature never even started. "saddle up, men!" rang the order across the stream. and then while strong arms lifted and bore the wounded herdsman to the porch, dean turned to the wailing mistress, who, white-faced and terror-stricken, was wringing her hands and moaning and running wildly up and down the walk and calling for some one to go and save her husband. dean almost bore her to a chair and bade her fear nothing. he and his men would lose not a moment. on the floor at her feet lay the little card photograph, and dean, hardly thinking what he did, stooped, picked it up and placed it in the pocket of his hunting shirt, just as the trumpeter on his plunging gray reached the gate, dean's big, handsome charger trotting swiftly alongside. in an instant the lieutenant was in saddle, in another second a trooper galloped up with his belt and carbine. already the men were leading into line across the stream, and, bidding the trumpeter tell sergeant shaughnessy to follow at speed, the young officer struck spur to his horse and, carbine in hand, a single trooper at his heels, away he darted down the valley, "c" troop, splashing through the ford a moment later, took the direct road past the stockade of the corral, disappeared from sight a moment behind that wooden fortification, and, when next it hove in view, it was galloping front into line far down the laramie, then once more vanished behind its curtain of dust. "two miles out there under the butte," was the only indication the young officer had of the scene of the fight, for fight he knew it must be, and even as he went bounding down the valley he recalled the story of the indian girl, the threats of burning star, the vowed vengeance of her brothers. could it be that, taking advantage of this raid of red cloud, far from all the reservations, far from possibility of detection by count of prying agents, the three had induced a gang of daring, devil-may-care young warriors to slip away from the big horn with them and, riding stealthily away from the beaten trails, to ford the platte beyond the ken of watchful eyes at frayne and sneak through the mountain range to the beautiful, fertile valley beyond, and there lie in wait for hal folsom or for those he loved? what was to prevent? well they knew the exact location of his ranch. they had fished and sported all about it in boy days--days when the soldiers and the sioux were all good friends, days before the mistaken policy of a post commander had led to an attack upon a peaceful band, and that to the annihilation of the attacking party. from that fatal day of the grattan massacre ten years before, there had been no real truce with the sioux, and now was opportunity afforded for a long-plotted revenge. dean wondered folsom had not looked for it instead of sleeping in fancied security. a mile nearer the butte and, glancing back, he could see his faithful men come bounding in his tracks. a mile ahead, rising abruptly from the general level, a little knoll or butte jutted out beyond the shoulders of the foothills and stood sentinel within three hundred yards of the stream. on the near--the westward--side, nothing could be seen of horse or man. something told him he would find the combatants beyond--that dead or alive, hal folsom would be there awaiting him. a glance at the commanding height and the ridge that connected it with the tumbling, wooded hills to the north, convinced him that at this moment some of the foe were lurking there, watching the westward valley, and by this time they knew full well of the coming of the cavalry to the rescue. by this time, more than likely, they were scurrying off to the mountains again, returning the way they came, with a start of at least two miles. "with or without the coveted scalps?" he wondered. thus far he had been riding straight for the butte. the road wound along and disappeared behind him, but there was no sense in following the road. "pursue and punish," was the thing to be done. surely not more than a dozen were in the band, else that courier could never have hoped to get in, wounded as he was. the indians were too few in number to dare follow to the ranch, guarded as, by almost god-given luck, it happened to be through the unlooked-for presence of the troops. no, it was a small band, though a daring one. its lookout had surely warned it by this time of his coming, and by this time, too, all save one or two who rode the fleetest ponies and lingered probably for a parting shot at the foremost of the chase, had scampered away behind the curtain of that ridge. therefore, in long curve, never checking his magnificent stride, dean guided his bounding bay to the left--the northeast--and headed for the lowest point of the divide. and then it all occurred to him too that he was far in front of his men, too far to be of use to them and just far enough to be an easy prey for the lurking foe. then, too, it occurred to him that he must not leave the ranch unprotected. already he was within long rifle range of the height; already probably some beady eye was glancing through the sights, and the deadly tube was covering him as he came bounding on. three hundred yards more and his life probably wouldn't be worth a dollar in confederate money, and wisely the young leader began to draw rein, and, turning in saddle, signaled to his single companion, laboring along one hundred yards behind, to hasten to join him. presently the trooper came spurring up, a swarthy young german, but though straining every nerve the troop was still a mile away. "ride back, wegner, and tell the sergeant to take ten men around that side--the south side of the bluff," and he pointed with his hand; "the rest to come straight to me." oh, well was it for dean that he checked his speed, and as the young dragoon went sputtering back, that he himself drew rein and waited for the coming of his men. suddenly from far out along the ridge in front, from the very crest there leaped a jet or two of fire and smoke. two little spurts of dust and turf flew up from the prairie sod a dozen yards in front, a rifle bullet went singing off through the sunny air, rabb, his handsome bay, pawed the ground and switched about, and up on the crest, riding boldly in full view, two lithe, naked, painted warriors, war bonnets trailing over their ponies' croups, yelling shrill insult and derision, went tearing away northward, one of them pausing long enough to wave some ragged object on high, and give one ringing, exultant whoop ere he disappeared from view. "it's a scalp, lieutenant," shouted the foremost sergeant as he came lunging up to join his chief. "they've got one, anyhow." "come on, then, and we'll get it back," was the only answer, as with nearly thirty troopers stringing out behind them, the two launched out in chase. chapter viii. obedient to his orders the irish sergeant, with a little squad at his heels, had kept straight on. a few minutes later, rounding the bluff at the gallop, eyes flashing over the field in front of them, the party went racing out over the turf and came in full view of the scene of the fight. five hundred yards further down stream was a deep bend in the laramie. close to the water's edge two horses lay stretched upon the ground, stone dead. out on the open prairie lay an indian pony still kicking in his dying agony, and as the soldiers came sweeping into view two men rose up from behind the low bank of the stream and swung their hats--hal folsom and one of his hands safe, unwounded, yet with a look in their gray faces that told of recent mortal peril. "we're all right! go on after them. they've run off a dozen of my best horses," said folsom, "and i'm afraid they cut off jake." "no! jake reached the ranch all right--leastwise somebody did," said shaughnessy. "that's how we got the news. they got somebody, or else they were only bluffing when they waved that scalp. how many were there?" "at least a dozen--too many for you to tackle. where's the rest of the troop?" "close at their heels. the lieutenant led them right over the ridge. listen!" yes, far up in the foothills, faint and clear, the sounds of the chase could now be heard. dean's men were closing on the fleeing warriors, for every little while the silence of the range was broken by the crack of rifle or carbine. shaughnessy's fellows began to fidget and look eagerly thither, and he read their wish. "two of you stay with mr. folsom," he said, "and the rest come with me. there's nothing we can do here, is there? sure, you're not hit?" "no, go on! give 'em hell and get back my horses. i'd go with you, but they've killed what horses they couldn't drive. all safe at the ranch?" shaughnessy nodded as he spurred away. "we'll be gettin' the lieutenant a brevet for this," said he, "if we can only close up with those blackguards." and these were the words folsom carried back with him, as, mounting a willing trooper's horse, he galloped homeward to reassure his wife, thanking god for the opportune coming of the little command, yet swearing with close compressed lips at the ill-starred work of the day. thus far he had striven to keep from her all knowledge of the threats of the ogallallas, although he knew she must have heard of them. he had believed himself secure so far back from the platte. he had done everything in his power to placate red cloud and the chiefs--to convince his former friends that he had never enticed poor lizette, as baptiste had called the child, from her home and people. they held he should never have left her, though she had accused him of no wrong. burning star, in his jealous rage, hated him, because he believed that but for love of the paleface lizette would have listened to his wooing, and folsom's conscience could not acquit him of having seen her preference and of leading her on. he could not speak of her to his wife without shame and remorse. he had no idea what could have been her fate, for the poor girl had disappeared from the face of the earth, and now, at last, this day had proved to him the threats of her lover and her brothers were not idle. he had had so narrow a squeak for his life, so sharp and sudden and hard a fight for it that, now that the peril was over, his nerve began to give way, his strong hands to tremble. armed with breech-loaders, he and his two friends had been able to stand off the attacking party, killing two ponies, and emptying, they felt sure, two saddles; but little by little the indians were working around their position, and would have crawled upon them within an hour or two but for jake's daring ride for help and the blessed coming of the blue-coats in the nick of time. folsom swore he'd never forget their services this day. and as he cantered homeward he could still hear the distant firing dying away in the mountains to the north. "give 'em hell, dean!" he muttered through his set teeth. "they're showing fight even when you've got 'em on the run. i wonder what that means?" not until another day was he to know. late on the evening of the attack, while he was seated with his wife by jake's bedside, half a dozen troopers, two of them wounded and all with worn-out horses, came drifting back to camp. twice, said they, had the fleeing indians made a stand to cover the slow retreat of one or two evidently sorely stricken, but so closely were they pressed that at last they had been forced to abandon one of their number, who died, sending his last vengeful shot through the lieutenant's hunting shirt, yet only grazing the skin. dean, with most of the men, pushed on in pursuit, determined never to desist so long as there was light, but these who returned could not keep up. leaving the dead body of the young brave where it lay among the rocks, they slowly journeyed back to camp. no further tidings came, and at daybreak folsom, with two ranchmen and a trooper, rode out on the trail to round up the horses the indians had been compelled to drop. mrs. hal clung sobbing to him, unable to control her fears, but he chided her gently and bade her see that jake lacked no care or comfort. the brave fellow was sore and feverish, but in no great danger now. five miles out in the foothills they came upon the horses wandering placidly back to the valley, but folsom kept on. four miles further he and a single ranchman with him came upon three troopers limping along afoot, their horses killed in the running fight, and one of these, grateful for a long pull at folsom's flask, turned back and showed them the body of the fallen brave. one look was enough for hal and the comrade with him. "don't let my wife know--who it was," he had muttered to his friend. "it would only make her more nervous." there lay chaska, lizette's eldest brother, and well hal folsom knew _that_ death would never go unavenged. "if ever a time comes when i can do you a good turn, lieutenant," said he that afternoon as, worn out with long hours of pursuit and scout, the troop was encountered slowly marching back to the laramie, "i'll do it if it costs me the whole ranch." but dean smiled and said they wouldn't' have missed that chance even for the ranch. what a blessed piece of luck it was that the commanding officer at frayne had bidden him take that route instead of the direct road to gate city! he had sent men riding in to both posts on the platte, with penciled lines telling of the indian raid and its results. once well covered by darkness the little band had easily escaped their pursuers, and were now safe across the river and well ahead of all possibility of successful pursuit. but if anything were needed to prove the real temper of the sioux the authorities had it. now was the time to grapple that ogallalla tribe and bring it to terms before it could be reinforced by half the young men in the villages of the northern plains. the platte, of course, would be patrolled by a strong force of cavalry for some weeks to come, and no new foray need be dreaded yet awhile. red cloud's people would "lay low" and watch the effect of this exploit before attempting another. if the white father "got mad" and ordered "heap soldiers" there to punish them, then they must disavow all participation in the affair, even though one of their best young braves was prominent in the outrage, and had paid for the luxury with his life--even though burning star was trying to hide the fresh scar of a rifle bullet along his upper arm. together dean and folsom rode back to the ranch, and another night was spent there before the troop was sufficiently rested to push on to emory. "remember this, lieutenant," said folsom again, as he pressed his hand at parting, "there's nothing too good for you and "c" troop at my home. if ever you need a friend you'll find one here." and the time was coming when marshall dean would need all that he could muster. two days later--still a march away from emory--a courier overtook him with a letter from his late post commander: "your vigorous pursuit and prompt, soldierly action have added to the fine record already made and merit hearty commendation." the cordial words brought sunshine to his heart. how proud jess would be, and mother! he had not had a word from either for over a week. the latter, though far from strong, was content at home in the loving care of her sister, and in the hope that he would soon obtain the leave of absence so long anticipated, and, after jess's brief visit to pappoose's new home, would come to gladden the eyes of kith and kin, but mother's most of all, bringing jessie with him. little hope of leave of absence was there now, and less was he the man to ask it with such troubles looming up all along the line of frontier posts to the north. but at least there would be the joy of seeing jess in a few days and showing her his troop--her and pappoose. how wonderfully that little schoolgirl must have grown and developed! how beautiful a girl she must now be if that photograph was no flatterer! by the way, where was that photo? what had he done with it? for the first time in four days he remembered his picking it up when mrs. hal folsom collapsed at sight of jake's swooning. down in the depths of the side pocket of his heavy blue flannel hunting shirt he found it, crumpled a bit, and all its lower left-hand corner bent and blackened and crushed, chaska's last shot that tore its way so close below the young soldier's bounding heart, just nipping and searing the skin, had left its worst mark on that dainty _carte de visite_. in that same pocket, too, was another packet--a letter which had been picked up on the floor of the hut at reno after burleigh left--one for which the major had searched in vain, for it was underneath a lot of newspapers. "you take that after him," said the cantonment commander, as dean followed with the troop next day, and little dreamed what it contained. that very day, in the heavy, old-fashioned sleeping-cars of the union pacific, two young girls were seated in their section on the northward side. one, a dark-eyed, radiant beauty, gazed out over the desolate slopes and far-reaching stretches of prairie and distant lines of bald bluff, with delight in her dancing eyes. the other, a winsome maid of nineteen, looked on with mild wonderment, not unmixed with disappointment she would gladly have hidden. to elinor the scenes of her childhood were dear and welcome; to jessie there was too much that was somber, too little that was inviting. but presently, as the long train rolled slowly to the platform of a rude wooden station building, there came a sight at which the eyes of both girls danced in eager interest--a row of "a" tents on the open prairie, a long line of horses tethered to the picket ropes, groups of stalwart, sunburned men in rough blue garb, a silken guidon flapping by the tents of the officers. it was one of half a dozen such camps of detached troops they had been passing ever since breakfast time--the camps of isolated little commands guarding the new railway on the climb to cheyenne. papa, with one or two cronies, was playing "old sledge" in the smoking compartment. at a big station a few miles back two men in the uniform of officers boarded the car, one of them burly, rotund, and sallow. he was shown to the section just in front of the girls, and at pappoose he stared--stared long and hard, so that she bit her lip and turned nervously away. the porter dusted the seat and disposed of the hand luggage and hung about the new arrivals in adulation. the burly man was evidently a personage of importance, and his shoulder straps indicated that he was a major of the general staff. the other, who followed somewhat diffidently, was a young lieutenant of infantry, whose trim frock-coat snugly fitted his slender figure. "ah, sit down here, mr.--mr. loomis," said the major patronizingly. "so you are going up to the big horn. well, sir, i hope we shall hear good accounts of you. there's a splendid field for officers of the right sort--there--and opportunities for distinction--every day." at sound of the staff officer's voice there roused up from the opposite section, where he had been dozing over a paper, a man of middle age, slim, athletic, with heavy mustache and imperial, just beginning to turn gray, with deep-set eyes under bushy brows, and a keen, shrewd face, rather deeply lined. there was a look of dissipation there, a shade of shabbiness about his clothes, a rakish cut to the entire personality that had caused folsom to glance distrustfully at him more than once the previous afternoon, and to meet with coldness the tentatives permissible in fellow travelers. the stranger's morning had been lonesome. now he held his newspaper where it would partly shield his face, yet permit his watching the officers across the aisle. and something in his stealthy scrutiny attracted pappoose. "yes," continued the major, "i have seen a great deal of that country, and mr. dean, of whom you spoke, was attached to the troop escorting our commission. he is hardly--i regret to have to say it--er--what you imagine. we were, to put it mildly, much disappointed in his conduct the day of our meeting with the sioux." a swift, surprised glance passed between the girls, a pained look shot into the lieutenant's face, but before the major could go on the man across the aisle arose and bent over him with extended hand. "ah, burleigh, i thought i knew the voice." but the hand was not grasped. the major was drawing back, his face growing yellow-white with some strange dismay. "you don't seem sure of my identity. let me refresh your memory, burleigh. i am captain newhall. i see you need a drink, major--i'll take one with you." chapter ix. for nearly a week after the home-coming of his beloved daughter john folsom was too happy in her presence to give much thought to other matters. by the end of that week, however, the honest old westerner found anxieties thickening about him. there were forty-eight hours of undimmed rejoicing. elinor was so radiant, so fond, and had grown, so said the proud father to himself, and so said others, so wondrously lovely. his eyes followed her every movement. he found himself negligent of her gentle little friend and guest, jessie dean, to whom he had vowed to be a second father, and such a friend as she had been to his pappoose when, a homesick, sad-eyed child, she entered upon her schooldays. elinor herself had to chide him, and with contrition and dismay he admitted his fault, and then for hours nothing could exceed his hospitable attentions to jessie, who, sorely disappointed because marshall was not there to meet her, was growing anxious as no tidings came from him. two whole days the damsels spent in going over the new house, exclaiming over papa's lavish preparations, but wishing presently that mrs. fletcher were not quite so much in evidence, here, there, and everywhere. only when bedtime came and they could nestle in one or other of their connecting rooms were they secure from interruption, and even then it presently appeared they could not talk confidentially as of old. folsom had taken them driving each afternoon, he himself handling the reins over his handsome bays, elinor at his side the first time, and jessie, with mrs. fletcher, occupying the rear seat. but this, elinor whispered to him, was not as it should be. her guest should have the seat of honor. so, next day, jessie was handed to the front and mrs. fletcher and pappoose were placed in rear, and in this order they bowled round the fort and listened to the band and talked with several of the women and one or two officers, but these latter could tell nothing about lieutenant dean except that they had been expecting him for two days--he having taken the long way home, which both jessie and pappoose considered odd under the circumstances, though neither said so and nobody thought to explain. but the morning of the third day "miss folsom"--as the veteran was amazed to hear his daughter addressed, yet on reflection concluded that he'd be tempted to kick any man who addressed her otherwise--seized a favorable opportunity and whisked her fond father into a corner of his library, and there gave him to understand that in eastern circles the housekeeper might sometimes, perhaps, accompany the young ladies when they were going shopping, or the like, alone, but that when escorted by papa it was quite unnecessary. it was in fact not at all conventional. "bless my soul!" said folsom. "i supposed that was what she was for. what did these women mean by telling me i must have a, companion--a guide--etc.?" "they meant, you blessed daddy, that they wished to provide you with--one of their number, and me--with something i do not want. if mrs. fletcher is to be housekeeper i have nothing to say, but--don't you think your big daughter old enough and wise enough to select her own companions? daddy dear," she continued, after a little pause, and nestling close to him with a pathetic look in the big brown eyes, her lips twitching a bit, "i know how loving and thoughtful you have been in all this, and i wouldn't have you think me ungrateful, but--did you believe i was always going to be a little girl? what do you suppose i studied housekeeping for at school? mrs. fletcher is engaged, i presume, and i can't ask you to undo that now, but i wish you had written to me first. however, if you don't mind, there's somebody i'd rather you would invite to take the fourth seat to-day, and then you can have pappoose beside you, if you wish." "why, of course, sweetheart, any one you like." "lieutenant loomis, then, daddy--the officer we met on the train. jessie likes him and he's such a friend of her brother--the only one we have yet seen who seems to know him at all. then you could ask him to dinner, too." folsom's face was a study. doubt and perplexity both were twitching in the little muscles about his lips. "we met three officers, did we not, elinor, and i had thought--somewhat of--asking the major and his guest. he said he wished to call. he was here while we were driving yesterday. i met him later." "yes, i saw his card," was the hurried, indifferent answer. "but they are not like mr. loomis. daddy, i did not at all like that captain newhall, or--for that matter----" "they both seemed prodigiously struck with you," said folsom, in misguided confidence yet pardonable pride. "they've done, nothing but talk to me about you ever since." "they did nothing but talk to me all the way over the mountains, except when they were out taking what i have reason to believe was an occasional drink, daddy mine. jess had mr. loomis to herself. they have found your weak spot, daddy. they know you love to talk of your daughter. you have only known major burleigh a little while, is it not so?" "only within the year, perhaps, though of course i've heard of him a great deal." "and this captain newhall, whose regiment is in louisiana while he's out here on leave--i thought officers went east when they got leave." "newhall says he's out here looking over some mining schemes. he has money to invest, i believe." "he should invest some money in a traveling suit, daddy dear. that coat and his linen seemed woefully out of condition. gentlemen are not careless about such matters." "oh, he explained that his trunks were delayed in omaha or somewhere, and were coming along next train. i own i was prejudiced against him, too, but of course if he's a friend and guest of burleigh's he--he must be all right. he's staying with him at the depot." "and you've got to invite them to dinner?" asked miss folsom, after another pause, during which she had been thinking deeply. "not if you don't want it, pet. of course they'll expect it. army officers are hospitable, you know, burleigh has asked me to dine with him a dozen times, though i've only been there once." "then you'll have to invite him, daddy," was the answer, with quick decision. "only, just wait for a day or two. captain newhall was going right out to the mines, he said, and there may be others we'd be glad to have. jessie's brother ought to be here any hour." "yes," said folsom dubiously. "i've been thinking about him--i've been wishing----" but he hesitated and faltered and could not meet the deep brown eyes, so full of searching inquiry and keen intelligence. "you've been thinking--what, daddy?" she asked, and now her slender hands were on his shoulders and she was turning him so that she could study his face. "you have been hearing something you do not wish us to know, daddy dear. i heard major burleigh say something to mr. loomis about--about lieutenant dean, and i know mr. loomis did not like it, and jessie and i can't believe it. father, where is he? why doesn't he come? why do these--these people at the fort hem and haw and hesitate when they speak about him? jessie is getting so troubled." "_i'm_ getting troubled, daughter," answered folsom impulsively. "i never met a likelier young fellow or one that promised to make a better officer. he may be all right, too, only it isn't so much what they _do_ say as what they don't say that troubles me. burleigh here and old stevens out at the fort and one or two others i've asked about him. burleigh says he 'lost his nerve' when they met red cloud's big band. a boy might be excused for that so long as he didn't misbehave. it was big responsibility for a young lieutenant. but these people, as you speak of them out at the fort, really know very little about dean. burleigh says he's in a position that enables him to know so much more about the character and habits of the young officers." "surely he can say nothing against mr. dean!" exclaimed pappoose, looking up with quick indignation in her brown eyes. "no one knows how good and generous he has been to jessie and his mother." they were standing at the moment in the corner of the library farthest from the doorway. the front windows opened to the north, giving a fine view of the rolling hills rising higher and higher and looking down upon the grass-grown slopes spread out at their feet, criss-crossed and traversed by hard-beaten roads and trails. immediately in front of the house folsom had seeded and watered and coaxed into semblance of a lawn the best turf to be had in that section of wyoming, and inclosed it in a spick and span white picket fence. the main road between the fort and the railway station passed directly in front of his gate. the side window of the cozy room looked out to the west over the valley of a rushing stream, once rich in trout, but now much infested by the mules from burleigh's corral, which lay half a mile away to the southeast, out of sight of folsom's house except from the upper windows. eager to stock the library with standard works against his daughter's coming, the old trader had consulted a friend among the officers and had sent a lavish order to a house in chicago. books, therefore, were there in plenty on the handsome shelves, and they were not ill-chosen either, but it was mrs. fletcher who pointed out how stiff and angular everything looked, who introduced the easy lounge, the soft rugs, the heavy hanging portières of costly navajo blankets. it was her deft touch that draped the curtains at the windows and softened and beautified the lines the hand of man would have left crude and repellent. and that library had been her favorite haunt; but since the coming of the girls mrs. fletcher had seemed to retire to her own room aloft, and to spend no time below stairs that was not demanded by her household duties. now as the father and daughter were talking earnestly together, they heard mrs. fletcher moving about overhead as though looking over the work of the housemaid. jessie had gone to her own room to write a short letter to her mother. major burleigh was to come at . to drive them out to pinnacle butte, a sharp, rocky height far across the valley, from the summit of which a wonderful view was to be obtained. it lacked but five minutes of the time and suddenly mrs. fletcher's voice was heard on the floor above. it was a well-modulated voice, gentle and controlled, with a clear, vibrant ring in it that made the words distinctly audible to the hearers below. "the major's carriage is coming up the street, miss dean. there are two officers." "two!" exclaimed jess, starting to her feet, thinking only of her brother. "oh! i wonder if--" and then they heard her go pit-a-pat through the hall to the front of the house, heard mrs. fletcher more deliberately follow, heard presently the beat of horses' hoofs on the hard roadway, and the whir of coining wheels. "i'll go out to meet them, elinor--i'll--i'll talk to you more about this some other time. you don't care to go on this ride this morning one bit, do you dear?" he added uneasily. "no, father; frankly, i don't--but he has been polite to you and attentive to us. there's no help for it." and so folsom went alone to the door to meet his visitors on the porch without, and did not hear, did not see mrs. fletcher, who came hastily down the stairs, her face singularly pale, a glitter of excitement in her eyes. on tiptoe she hastened along the broad hall, reaching the library door just as folsom stepped out on the porch. on tiptoe she darted in, closed the door behind her, almost rushed to the north window, and there grasping the curtain she crouched, heedless of the possibility of observation, and for half a minute clung and crouched and stared. then, as folsom's genial, powerful voice was heard in welcoming accents, and heavy footsteps came along the broad board walk, the woman straightened suddenly and, noiseless as before, hurried back across the room and came face to face with the daughter of the house. "oh, miss folsom!" she faltered, her bosom heaving in violent agitation. "i did not know you were here. i--excuse me--" and hastened out of the room and up the winding stairs. "pappoose" never hesitated. coolly, quickly, she stepped to the window. major burleigh had just reached the top step and was exchanging greeting with his host. the stylish team and glistening wagon were just spinning away. "it'll be back in five minutes," she, heard the quartermaster explain to her father. "newhall has to meet come people coming in by stage from green river. i thought i'd rather spend the time here." and on the back seat, affably waving his hand in adieu, and jauntily lifting his rakish forage cap in salutation general to any of the young ladies who might be watching, sat the gentleman whose regiment was in louisiana while he was up here on leave looking after mining investments. chapter x. "three mortal hours," said miss folsom to her fond little school friend and chum that afternoon, "have i had to sit or stroll with or listen to major burleigh. i never once was able to enjoy the view. what made him hurry us away from the northeast point, do you suppose?" "did you notice that, nell? i did, too, and i was so interested in the view. away up toward laramie peak i could see something through the glasses that looked like a lot of little ants crawling along together. it was just after that--just after we looked through the glass, that he marched us round to the other side. the view toward green river isn't half as pretty." "and now he's telling some interminable story to father over their cigars. what shall we do if he hangs on? father will have to ask him to drive with us to the fort, and there won't be room." "unless mrs. fletcher gives up her seat," said jessie demurely. "mrs. fletcher isn't going. a very different person takes her seat to-day, jess. father left a note for mr. loomis at the hotel and he accepted. now you see why i don't want major burleigh." it was then long after three o'clock. at five they were to start and jessie could hardly curb her impatience. the mail from frayne, so said folsom, would arrive that evening, and then surely there would be news of marshall. they had slipped away to their rooms after the bountiful luncheon served on their return, in order, as "pappoose" expressed it, that the gentlemen might have t­heir cigars in peace. mrs. fletcher, after seeing that everything was prepared, had directed the servant to say to mr. folsom, on the return of the party, that she would prefer not to appear, and would be glad to keep her room, as she did not feel it at all necessary for the housekeeper to meet strangers, and folsom felt a sense of relief. it was so much sweeter not to have any presiding genius other than pappoose, not that he was forgetful of mrs. fletcher's merits and services--which were great--but it was plain to see that his daughter would have been happier had no such office existed as that created for this deserving and destitute widow. at three miss folsom had gone and tapped at the lady's door--her room was in the third story overlooking the street--and was very civilly assured that mrs. fletcher stood in need of nothing, but, being wearied, she would like a little sleep. no, she did not even care for a cup of tea. yet elinor felt confident that the voice that replied to her inquiries came neither from the bed nor the lounge, but from the direction of the front window. at three the cigars were smoked out and the host and his guest were in the library. it was folsom's custom, when a possible thing, to take a brief nap after the midday meal, and elinor felt sure he would be glad of the opportunity now, if burleigh would only go, but burleigh wouldn't. in monotonous monologue his voice came floating up to the second floor, drowsy, unbroken in its soporific flow, and the girls themselves, after the morning's drive in the clear, bracing air, felt as though forty winks would be a blessing. could it be that burleigh lingered on in hopes of their reappearance below? might it not be that if relief came not speedily papa folsom would yield to the spell and fall asleep in his easy-chair? was it not miss folsom's duty to descend and take the burden of entertainment off those elder shoulders? these thoughts oppressed the girl, and starting up, she cried: "it's simply wicked of me staying here and letting poor papa be bored to death. do come down, jess, dear, unless you're dreadfully sleepy. he acts just as though he intended never to go." and jess promised reluctantly to come down in ten minutes, if he didn't leave; but she hated him, and had hated him ever since he spoke so of marshall in the car three days before. the upper hall had been quite dark when miss folsom went up to inquire how mrs. fletcher was just after luncheon. the door to her little room was tightly closed. the blinds in all the other rooms aloft were drawn against the glare of the sunshine in the cloudless atmosphere; yet now, as pappoose stepped suddenly out upon the landing, she was surprised to see that the upper floor was much lighter than when she went up half an hour earlier. the maid had not gone thither from the kitchen, and mrs. fletcher wished to doze. who, then, could have opened both blind and door and let in that flood of light? impulsively the active girl flew up the winding stairs to the third story, and some one suddenly withdrew from the balcony rail, and an instant later, as miss folsom reached the top, all became dark again. mrs. fletcher's door had unquestionably been open, and was now shut to. she must have been out there listening, and gravely the young girl asked herself what it meant--mrs. fletcher's agitation in the library that morning as she peered out at the major's wagon; her absence from luncheon on account, as she pleaded, of not desiring to appear when company was present; and now, despite her desire to sleep, her vigil at the third-floor landing, where she was surely listening to the sounds from below. pondering over the facts, elinor folsom slowly retraced her steps and went downstairs. she reached the library none too soon. old john's eyes were closed, and he was slowly toppling, over come with sleep. the sound of her cheery voice aroused him, and he started, guilty and crestfallen. burleigh's heavy face brightened visibly at her coming. he cared no more for music than does a cat, but eagerly followed her across the broad hall into the parlor when she suggested showing him the beautiful piano papa had given her; and old john, blessing her, lurched for the sofa, buried his hot head in a pillow, and was asleep in ten seconds. major burleigh was alone with the lovely daughter of the veteran trader. he was a man of the world; she an unsophisticated girl just out of school--so said burleigh, albeit a most charming one; and he, who had monopolized her time the entire morning, bore down once more upon his prize. she had seated herself at the piano, and her long, taper fingers were rippling over the keys. she knew full well he did not care what she played, and as for herself she did not care just then to play at all. she was thinking of his insinuation at marshall dean's expense. she was still pondering over mrs. fletcher's stealthy scrutiny of the quartermaster's team. on these two accounts, and no other, he was possessed of certain interest in elinor's dark-brown eyes, and they were studying him coolly, searchingly, as he drew a chair near the piano stool, and seated himself and met her look with a broad, encouraging smile. trill and ripple, ripple and trill her white fingers raced over the keyboard. "i'm sure you know this waltz, major," she was saying. "they played it beautifully at the point two summers ago." "i--ah, yes, it's a charming composition--charming, though i don't recall it's name just now." "this? why it's one of godfrey's--'the hilda,' don't you know? i'm sure you waltz, major." "i--ah, used to, yes. i was very fond of a waltz," answered burleigh, whose best efforts in that line could result in nothing better than a waddle. "but of late years i--i--since my bereavement--have practically withdrawn from society." then, with a languishing smile, he added, "i shall be tempted to re-enter the list now," and the major drew his chair nearer by full an inch, and prepared to be further "killing." "jessie dances divinely," said miss folsom. "she simply floats round a room. you should see her waltz with her brother, major burleigh. they might be waltzing here this very minute if he were only home. what can have detained him, do you think?" "i wish i knew," said the quartermaster slowly. "it makes those who are--ah--his friends, you know, anxious in more ways than one, because there is--er--nothing to warrant delay--nothing to--excuse it. he should, in fact, have been at his post, where his troop is sorely needed, full four days ago," and burleigh looked heavy with portent. "is it not possible that he has found something along the lower laramie--something where his troop is needed much more than here doing stable guard?" "how can it be possible?" said burleigh. "the only thing to warrant his delay would be indians, and there are none south of the platte; or horse thieves, and they hung the last of the gang three months ago. mr. dean, i--ah--regret to say, is fonder of fishing and hunting than of his legitimate duties, and this, i fear, is why he is not here to welcome his sister." the piano went rippling on, but the brown eyes kept up their steady gaze. in the deep bass chords now her slender fingers were entangled. slowly and thoughtfully the rich melody swung in the proud waltz rhythm through the airy room and floated out upon the summer breeze. a little line was setting deep between the dark, arching eyebrows, a symptom pappoose's schoolmates had learned to note as a signal for danger, but burleigh knew her not, as yet. "it is odd," said she dreamily, "that at the point the officers spoke so highly of mr. dean, and here you seem to think so differently of him. it is a deep disappointment to his sister that he is not here; but, do you know, major, we were saying only this morning before you came that there was some excellent reason for his delay, and we'd know it within another day." "oh, ah--er--of course i hope so. i think, pardon me, that that must be a messenger from my office now," for spurred boot-heels were coming briskly up the wooden walk. there was a bounding step on the piazza, a ring at the bell. the servant bustled through the hall and threw open the door. it was not a messenger from the depot, but a stalwart, sunburnt man in rough ranch garb, who whipped off his broad-brimmed hat and stood abashed within the hall as he asked for mr. folsom. and all of a sudden over went the piano-stool with a crash, and out into the hall, joyous, bounding, light as a fairy, a vision of dark, girlish beauty, went pappoose. "why, ned lannion!" she cried, as she seized the swarthy young fellow's hands and shook them up and down "don't you know me--winona that used to be? why, how well you look! when did you leave the ranch? how did you leave them? is hal here--or coming?" and at sound of her voice old folsom had started up from his sofa and came trotting out into the hall, just roused from his sleep, and blinking a bit as he, too, held forth cordial, welcoming hands. it was a moment before they could let ned tell his story, and then it came by jerks. "we left there early yesterday morning, mum. they're all well now, 'cept jake, and he'll come out all right, but we had a close call. a war party of sioux jumped as wednesday afternoon, and they'd a got away with us but for lieutenant dean and his troop. they come along just in time----" "ned!" gasped elinor, "you don't mean they attacked the ranch?" "no'me. we was down the lar'mie--rounding up horses. there was a dozen bucks in the party. it's the first time they've come across in a year that i know of, and they won't be apt to try it again. we shot two of 'em and the cavalry drove 'em a running fight, so hard that they had to leave one of their wounded behind them. he died in a minute. it was--" and then ned lannion gulped and stumbled and choked in embarrassment. "who was it?" demanded mr. folsom, his rugged face pale and twitching, his eyes full of anxiety. "chaska, sir. _you_ know." folsom gripped him by the shoulder. "and burning star--did you see him? was he there?" "yes, sir; but those boys of lieutenant dean's gave them a lickin' they'll never forget. the ranch is safe as if it was here in gate city, only hal he couldn't come himself, and he knowed you'd be anxious for full particulars, so he sent me in with the cavalry. they're out at the fort now." "jessie!" cried elinor, in delight that overmastered the emotion with which she had listened to the tale of her brother's recent peril. marshall's here--almost home. it's just as we said, jess. do come down. he was there just in time to save my brother's life--to drive the indians back to the river. come quick--i want to hug you!" and her dark eyes, flashing with joy and excitement, danced full upon the bulky form of the major, slowly issuing from the parlor door, then beyond as she went bounding by him, all eagerness to clasp her bonny friend in her arms, and shower her with congratulations. and so it happened that both the girls were at the rear of the hall entwined in each other's arms at the foot of the stairs when the ranchman answered folsom's next question, and then broke out with the abrupt announcement, "i never see a young officer handle his men better. we'd all been in hell by this time if it wasn't for him, yet, by god, sir, the moment he got into the post they clapped him in arrest." chapter xi. that evening, when john folsom, half an hour earlier than the stipulated time, drove the girls and their friend, lieutenant loomis, out to the fort, major burleigh was left to his own devices, and his face plainly showed that he was far from pleased with the way things were going. the news that marshall dean had been placed in arrest by order of the commanding officer of fort emory, following as it did close on the heels of the tidings of that young officer's prompt and soldierly handling of the crisis at the ranch, made folsom boil over with wrath. his first word was one of caution, however. "hush!" he said, "speak low. yonder stands his sister. the girls must not know yet." then, leading the way into the library and closing the door behind them, he demanded all particulars lannion could give him, which were few enough. "the lieutenant halted the troop outside the post," said the indignant ranchman, "had it dismount there while he rode on in to report to the commanding officer for instructions. the colonel was taking his nap after lunch, and the adjutant was at the office, and what does he do but get up from his desk solemn-like, and when the lieutenant says 'i report the arrival of troop "c" at the post, sir,' the adjutant didn't answer a word, but reached out and got his sabre and began buckling it around him, and then he put on his cap and gloves, and says he, 'lieutenant dean, i'm sorry, but my instructions are to place you in close arrest, by order of colonel stevens.' why, you could have knocked me down with the kick of a gopher i was so dumfounded! the lieutenant he didn't say anything for a minute, but turned white and looked like he could have knocked the top of the adjutant's head off. 'an officer will be sent to take charge of the troop,' said the adjutant, 'an' i suppose you'd better confine yourself to your tent, as the colonel means to have them camp there a day or two, until he hears from captain brooks as to quarters.' 'well, will you have the goodness to say what charges have been laid against me?' said mr. dean, and the adjutant hemmed, and hawed, and 'lowed that the colonel hadn't formerly drawn 'em up yet, but that a copy would be served on him as soon as they were ready." "then i said i'd go right in and find you, and that's all i know." and then it was that folsom turned on burleigh, with gloom in his eye, and said: "by the eternal, major burleigh, i hope you've had nothing to do with this!" "nothing in the world, i assure you, mr. folsom, i--i deeply regret it. though, as i have told you, i can hardly be surprised, after what has been said, and--d what i have seen." but the major could not squarely meet the gaze in the keen eyes of the old trader, nor could the latter conceal his suspicions. "i know you wish to hear all the particulars of the affair at the ranch from this gentleman," said the major uneasily, "so i will leave you with him for the present," and backing out into the hall he turned to the foot of the winding staircase where elinor had met her friend. the girls were still there, their faces clouded with surprise and anxiety. it was an opportunity not to be lost. "pray do not be troubled, miss folsom," said burleigh, advancing upon them with outstretched hand, "er, mr. folsom merely wants to hear further details from lannion. i wish to extend my congratulations to you and, ah, this young lady, first upon the fortunate escape of _your_ brother," and he bowed over his distended stomach to elinor, "and second upon the part played by _yours_," and he repeated the bow to jess, who, however, shrank away from the extended hand. "it will go far to counteract the stories that i--ah, er--believe you know about--that were in circulation, and most unjustly, doubtless, at--er--his expense." "who put them in circulation, major burleigh?" asked pappoose, her brown eyes studying his face as unflinchingly as had her father's gaze a moment before. "that, my dear young lady i--er--cannot surmise. they are mostly imaginative, i dare say." but miss folsom looked unmollified, miss dean agitated, and burleigh himself had many a reason for feeling ill at ease. just at the time of all others when he most desired to stand on good terms with the well-to-do old trader and his charming daughter he found himself the object of distrust. he was thinking hard and far from hopefully as a moment later he hastened down the street. "tell them to send up my buggy, quick," were his orders as he stepped within his office doorway. then lowering his voice, "has captain newhall returned?" he asked the chief clerk. "the captain was here, sir. left word he needed to take the first train--freight or construction, it made no difference--to cheyenne and expected to find a letter or package from you, and there's two telegrams in from department headquarters on your desk, sir." the major turned thither with solemn face, and read them both, his back to his subordinate, his face to the light, and growing grayer every moment. one was a curt notification that ten thousand dollars would be needed at once at warrior gap to pay contractors and workmen, and directing him to send the amount from the funds in his keeping. the other read as follows: "have all transportation put in readiness for immediate field service. every wheel may be needed." this he tossed carelessly aside. over the first he pondered deeply, his yellow-white face growing dark and haggard. ten thousand dollars to be sent at once to warrior gap! workmen's pay! who could have predicted that? who could have given such an order? who would have imagined payment would have to be made before july, when some reasonable amount of work had been done? what could laborers do with their money up there, even if they had it? it was preposterous! it was risky to attempt to send it. but what was infinitely worse--for him--it was impossible. the money was practically already gone, but--not to warrior gap. those were days when inspectors' visits were like those of other angels, few and far between. the railway was only just finished across the great divide of the black hills of wyoming. only as far as cheyenne was there a time schedule for trains, and that--far more honored in the breach than the observance. passengers bound west of that sinfully thriving town were luckier, as a rule, if they went by stage. those were days, too, in which a depot quartermaster with a drove of government mules and a corral full of public vehicles at his command was a monarch in the eyes of the early settlers; and when, added to these high-priced luxuries, he had on deposit in various banks from chicago to cheyenne, and even here at gate city, thousands of dollars in government greenbacks expendible on his check for all manner of purposes, from officers' mileage accounts to the day laborer's wages, from bills for the roofing of barracks and quarters to the setting of a single horseshoe, from the purchase of forage and fuel for the dozen military posts within range of his supply trains down to a can of axle grease. every one knew burleigh's horses and habits were far more costly than his pay would permit. everybody supposed he had big returns from mines and stocks and other investments. nobody knew just what his investments were, and only he knew how few they were and how unprofitable they had become. those were days when, as now, disbursing officers were forbidden to gamble, but when, not as now, the law was a dead letter. burleigh had gambled for years; had, with little remorse, ruined more than one man, and yet stood now awe-stricken and dismayed and wronged by fate, since luck had turned at last against him. large sums had been lost to players inexorable as he himself had been. large sums had been diverted from the government channels in his charge, some to pay his so-called debts of honor, some to cover abstractions from other funds, "robbing peter to pay paul," some to silence people who knew too much; some, ay, most of it, in fact, to cover margins, and once money gets started on that grade it slips through one's fingers like quicksilver. at the very moment when anson burleigh's envious cronies were telling each other he stood far ahead of the world, the figures were telling him he stood some twenty thousand dollars behind it, and that, too, when he was confronted by two imperative calls for spot cash, one for ten thousand to go to warrior gap, another for a sum almost as big to "stake" a man who never yet had turned an honest penny, yet held the quartermaster where he dare not say so--where indeed he dare not say no. "if you haven't it you know where you can get it--where you have often got it before, and where you'd better get it before it's too late;" these were words said to him that very morning, in tones so low that none but he could bear; yet they were ringing in his head now like the boom of some tolling bell. time was when he had taken government money and turned it into handsome profit through the brokers of san francisco and chicago. but, as mr. john oakhurst remarked, "there's only one thing certain about luck, and that is it's bound to change," and change it had, and left him face to face with calamity and dishonor. where was he to raise the ten thousand dollars that must be sent to the post quartermaster at warrior gap? the end of the fiscal year was close at hand. he dare not further divert funds from one appropriation to cover shortages in another. he could borrow from the banks, with a good endorser, but what endorser was there good enough but john folsom?--the last man now whom he could bear to have suspect that he was in straits. folsom was reported to be worth two hundred thousand dollars, and that lovely girl would inherit half his fortune. there lived within his circle no man, no woman in whose esteem burleigh so longed to stand high, and he had blundered at the start. damn that young cub who dared to lecture him on the evils of poker! was a boy lieutenant to shame him before officers of the general's staff and expect to go unwhipped? was that butt-headed subaltern to be the means of ruining his prospects right here and now when he stood so sorely in need of aid? was the devil himself in league against him, that that boy's sister should turn out to be the closest friend old folsom's daughter ever had--a girl to whom father and daughter both were devoted, and through her were doubtless interested in the very man he had been plotting to pull down? burleigh savagely ground his teeth together. "go and hurry that buggy," he ordered, as he crushed the sheet of paper on which he had been nervously figuring. then, springing up, he began pacing his office with impatient stride. a clerk glanced quickly up from his desk, watched him one moment with attentive eye, and looked significantly at his neighbor. "old man's getting worse rattled every day," was the comment, as the crash of wheels through loose gravel announced the coming of the buggy, and burleigh hastened out, labored into his seat, and took the whip and reins. the blooded mare in the shafts darted forward at the instant, but he gathered and drew her in, the nervous creature almost settling on her haunches. "say to captain newhall when he gets back-that i'll see him this evening," called burleigh over his shoulder. "now, damn you, _go_--if you want to!" and the lash fell on the glistening, quivering flank, and with her head pointed for the hard, open prairie, the pretty creature sped like mad over the smooth roadway and whirled the light buggy out past the scattered wooden tenements of the exterior limits of the frontier town--the tall white staff, tipped by its patch of color flapping in the mountain breeze, and the dingy wooden buildings on the distant bluff whirling into view as he spun around the corner where the village lost itself in the prairie; and there, long reaches ahead of him, just winding up the ascent to the post was a stylish team and trap. john folsom and the girls had taken an early start and got ahead of him. old stevens was up and about as folsom's carriage drove swiftly through the garrison and passed straight out by the northeast gate. "i'll be back to see you in a moment," shouted the old driver smilelessly, as he shot by the lonely colonel, going, papers in hand to his office, and stevens well knew he was in for trouble. already the story was blazing about the post that nothing but the timely arrival of dean and his men had saved folsom's ranch, and folsom's people. already the men, wondering and indignant at their young leader's arrest, were shouting over the sutler's bar their pæans in his praise, and their denunciation of his treatment. over the meeting of sister and brother at the latter's little tent let us draw a veil. he stepped forth in a moment and bade his other visitors welcome, shook hands eagerly with loomis and urged their coming in, but he never passed from under the awning or "fly," and folsom well knew the reason. "jump out, daughter," he said to pappoose, and loomis assisted her to alight and led her straight up to dean, and for the first time in those two years the ex-cadet captain and the whilom little schoolgirl with the heavy braids of hair looked into each other's eyes, and in dean's there was amaze and at least momentary delight. he still wore his field rig, and the rent in the dark-blue flannel shirt was still apparent. he was clasping miss folsom's hand and looking straight into the big dark eyes that were so unusually soft and humid, when jessie's voice was heard as she came springing forth from the tent: "look, nell, look! your picture!" she cried, as with the bullet-marked _carte de visite_ in her hand she flitted straight to her friend. "why, where did this come from?" asked miss folsom in surprise, "and what's happened to it?--all creased and black there!" then both the girls and loomis looked to him for explanation, while folsom drove away, and even through the bronze and tan the boy was blushing. "i--borrowed it for a minute--at the ranch just as jake came in wounded, and there was no time to return it, you know. we had to gallop right out." "then--you had it with you in the indian fight?" cried jess, in thrilling excitement. "really? oh, nell! how i wish it were mine. but how'd it get so blackened there--and crushed? you haven't told us." "tell you some other time, jess. don't crowd a fellow," he laughed. but when his eyes stole their one quick glance at elinor, standing there in silence, he saw the color creeping up like sunset glow all over her beautiful face as she turned quickly away. lannion had told them of the close shave the lieutenant had had and the havoc played by that bullet in the breast pocket of his hunting shirt. chapter xii. meantime "old peeksniff," as commentators of the day among the graceless subs were won't to call colonel stevens, was having his bad quarter of an hour. leaving his team with the orderly, john folsom had stamped into his presence unannounced, and after his own vigorous fashion opened the ball as follows: "stevens, what in the devil has that young fellow done to deserve arrest?" "oh, ah, shut the door, mr. adjutant," said the commanding officer, apprehensively, to his staff officer, "and--d i desire to confer with mr. folsom a moment," whereat the adjutant took the hint and then hied himself out of the room. "now, ah, in the first place, mr. folsom this is rather a long and--d painful story. i'm--m--ah, ah--in a peculiar position." "for god's sake talk like a man and not like burleigh," broke in the old trader impulsively. "i've known you off and on over twenty years, and you never used to talk in this asinine way until you got to running with him. come right to the point--what crime is young dean charged with? those girls of mine will have to know it. they will know he's in arrest. what can i tell them?" "crime--ah--is hardly the word, folsom. there has been a misunderstanding of orders, in short, and he was placed under arrest before--ah--before i had been furnished with a mass of information that should have been sent to me before." "well, what fault is that of his? see here, man, you don't mean to say it is because he didn't get here three days ago? that's no crime, and i haven't knocked around with the army the last forty years not to know the regulations in such matters. do you mean without ever hearing what kept him and what splendid, spirited service he rendered there along the laramie, that you've humiliated that fine young fellow and put him in arrest?" pecksniff whirled around in his chair. "really now, mr. folsom, i can't permit you to instruct me in my military duties. you have no conception of the way in which i've been ignored and misled in this matter. there are collateral circumstances brought about, er--forced on me in fact, by injudicious friends of this young man, and he--he must blame them--he must blame them, not me. now if you'll permit me to glance over this mass of matter, i can the sooner do justice in the premises." and over his goggles the colonel looked pleadingly up into his visitor's irate features. "read all you like, but be quick about it," was the angry rejoinder. "i want to take that boy back with me to town and confront him with one of his accusers this very day--the man i believe, by the ghost of jim bridger, is at the bottom of the whole business!" and folsom flopped heavily and disgustedly into a chair, at sound of a rap at the door, which opened an inch and the adjutant's nose became visible at the crack. "major burleigh, sir, would like to see you." "and i'd like to see major burleigh!" stormed folsom, springing to his feet. commanding officers of the stevens stamp had no terrors for him. he had known his man too long. "gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried pecksniff, "i can have no disturbance now over this unfortunate matter. really, mr. folsom, i cannot permit my office to be the scene of any--of any----" but his words wandered aimlessly away into space as he discovered he had no listener. folsom, finding that the major had apparently changed his mind and was not coming in, had changed his plan and was going out. he overtook burleigh on the boardwalk in front and went straight to the point. "major burleigh, you told me a short time ago that you had nothing to do with the allegations against this young gentleman who was placed in arrest here this afternoon, yet i learn from my own daughter that you spoke of him to a brother officer of his in terms of disparagement the day you got aboard the car at sidney. mr. loomis corroborates it and so does miss dean. i've heard of two other instances of your speaking sneeringly of him. now i ask you as man to man what it is you have to tell? he has saved the lives of my son, his wife and child, and the people of the ranch, and by the eternal i'm his friend and mean to see justice done him!" burleigh listened with solemn face and with no attempt to interrupt. he waited patiently until folsom came to a full stop before he spoke at all. then his voice was eloquent of undeserved rebuke--of infinite sympathy. "mr. folsom," he said, "it would be useless for me to deny that before i knew your charming daughter or her--ah--very interesting friend i did speak in their presence--ah--incautiously, perhaps, of mr. dean, but it was in continuance of a conversation begun before we boarded the car, and what i said was more in sorrow than in criticism. the young gentleman had attracted my attention--my favorable--ah--opinion on the up trip to the big horn, and i was--ah--simply disappointed in his conduct on the way back. it was perhaps due to--ah--inexperience only, and my whole object in coming here in haste this afternoon was to bear testimony to his ability and zeal as a troop commander, and to urge--ah--colonel stevens to reconsider his action and restore him at once to duty. i had hoped, sir, to be here--ah--ahead of you and to have driven him in my buggy--ah--to meet you, but i am disappointed--i am disappointed in more ways than one." folsom stood and wiped his streaming face, and looked the speaker square in the eye, and burleigh stood the scrutiny with unlooked-for nerve. long years at the poker-table had given him command of his features, and the faculty of appearing the personification of serene confidence in his "hand," when the twitching of a nerve might cost a thousand dollars. folsom was no match for him in such a game. little by little the anger and suspicion faded from his eyes, and a shame-faced look crept into them. had he really so misjudged, so wronged this gentleman? certainly there was every appearance of genuine sympathy and feeling in burleigh's benevolent features. certainly he was here almost as soon as he himself had come, and very possibly for the same purpose. it was all that old fool pecksniff's doing after all. folsom had known him for years and always as more or less of an ass--a man of so little judgment that, though a major in the line at the outbreak of the war, he had never been trusted with a command in the field, and here he was now a full colonel with only three companies left him. burleigh saw his bluff was telling, and he took courage. "come with me," he said, "and let me reassure you," and the doors of the commanding officer's sanctum opened at once to the omnipotent disburser of government good things, folsom following at his heels. "colonel stevens," he began, the moment he was inside, and before the colonel could speak at all, "in a moment of exasperation and extreme nervous--ah--depression the night i--er--started east so hurriedly after a most exhausting journey from the big horn, i spoke disparagingly of the action of lieutenant dean in face of the indians the day we met red cloud's band, but on mature reflection i am convinced i misjudged him. i have been thinking it all over. i recall how vigilant and dutiful he was at all times, and my object in hurrying out here to-day, at--ah--almost the instant i heard of his arrest, was to put in the best words i could think of in his behalf--to--ah--urge you to reconsider your action, especially in view of all the--e--ah--encomiums passed upon his conduct in this recent raid on the laramie." the colonel whirled around upon him as he had on folsom. "major burleigh," he began, "i call you to witness that i am the most abused man in the army. here am i, sir, thirty-five years in service, a full colonel, with a war record with the regulars that should command respect, absolutely ignored by these mushroom generals at omaha and elsewhere--stripped of my command and kept in ignorance of the movements of my subordinates. why, sir," he continued, lashing himself on, as he rose from his chair, "here's my junior at frayne giving orders to my troop, sir; presumes to send them scouting the laramie bottoms, when every man is needed here, and then, when, as it happens, my officer and his men get into a fight and drive the indians, to whom does he report, sir? not to me, sir--not to his legitimate commander, but he sends couriers to laramie and to frayne, and ignores me entirely." a light dawned on burleigh in an instant. well he knew that dean's reasons for sending couriers to those guard posts of the platte were to warn them that a war party had crossed into their territory, and was now in flight. there was nothing to be gained by sending a man galloping back to the line of the railway seventy-five miles to the rear--no earthly reason for his doing so. but the fact that he had sent runners to officers junior in rank to stevens, and had not sent one to him, fairly "stuck in the crop" of the captious old commander, and he had determined to give the youngster a lesson. but now the mail was in, and dispatches from various quarters, and a telegram from omaha directing him to convey to lieutenant dean the thanks and congratulations of the general commanding the department, who had just received full particulars by wire from cheyenne, and stevens was glad enough to drop the game, and burleigh equally glad of this chance to impress folsom with the sense of his influence, as well as of his justice. "i admit all you say, colonel. i have long--ah--considered you most unfairly treated, but really--ah--in this case of lieutenant dean's, it is, as i said before, inexperience and--ah--the result of-ah--er--not unnatural loss of--er--balance at a most exciting time. a word of--ah--admonition, if you will pardon my suggestion, all he probably needs, for he has really behaved very well--ah--surprisingly well in conducting this--ah--pursuit." and so was it settled that later the colonel was to see mr. dean, and admonish accordingly, but that meantime the adjutant should go and whisper in his ear that his arrest was ended, and all would be explained later, thereby releasing him before the girls discovered the fact that he was confined to his tent. but the adjutant came too late. the tearful eyes of one, the flushed and anxious faces of both damsels, and the set look in the eyes of both the young officers at dean's tent, as the adjutant approached, told him the cat was out of the bag. "the explanation cannot be made too promptly for me, sir," said dean, as he received the colonel's message and permitted the adjutant to depart without presenting him to the two prettiest girls he had seen in a year. "now, loomis, just as quick as possible i want you to go with me to that man burleigh. i'll cram his words down his throat." "hush, dean, of course, i'll stand by you! but--both girls are looking. wait until to-morrow." how many a project for the morrow is dwarfed or drowned by events unlooked for--unsuspected at the time! not ten minutes later folsom and burleigh came strolling together to the little tent. ashamed of his apparently unjust accusation, folsom had begged the quartermaster's pardon and insisted on his coming with him and seeing the young people before driving back to town. the horses were being groomed at the picket line. the western sun was low. long shadows were thrown out over the sward and the air was full of life and exhilaration. the somber fears that had oppressed the quartermaster an hour earlier were retiring before a hope that then he dare not entertain. "you--you stood by me like a trump, burleigh," old folsom was saying, "even after i'd abused you like a thief. if i can ever do you a good turn don't you fail to let me know." and burleigh was thinking then and there how desperately in need of a good turn he stood that minute. what if folsom would back him? what if---- but as they came in full view of the picket line beyond the row of tents, the major's eagerly searching gaze was rewarded by a sight that gave him sudden pause. halted and examining with almost professional interest the good points of a handsome little bay, lieutenant loomis and jessie dean were in animated chat. halted and facing each other, he with glowing admiration in his frank blue eyes, she with shy pleasure in her joyous face, dean and elinor folsom stood absorbed in some reminiscence of which he was talking eagerly. neither saw the coming pair. neither heard the rapid beat of bounding hoofs nearing them in eager haste. neither noted that a horseman reined in, threw himself from saddle and handed burleigh a telegraphic message which, with trembling hands, he opened and then read with starting eyes. "my heaven, folsom!" he cried. "i ought to have known something was coming when i got orders to have every mule and wheel ready. everything's to be rushed to the big horn at once. just as you predicted, red cloud's band has broken loose. there's been a devil of a fight not eighty miles from frayne!" chapter xiii. and now indeed came for marshall dean a time in which he could see a divided duty. a camp of woodchoppers in one of the deep, sequestered valleys of the mountains had been suddenly set upon by a host of mounted indians that seemed, like the warriors born of the dragon's teeth, to spring up from the earth, and yelling like fiends bore down upon the little guard. happily for the woodchoppers, but unluckily for lo, the commander was a cool-headed veteran of the late war who had listened time and again to yells as frantic and had withstood charge after charge ten times as determined. most unluckily for lo the infantry company was armed with the new springfield breech-loader, and when the band came exultantly on, having, as they supposed, drawn the fire when full four hundred yards away, they were confounded by the lively crackle and sputter of rifles along the timber in front of them, toppling many a dashing warrior to earth and strewing the ground with slaughtered ponies. that charge failed, but they rallied in furious force. there were only forty soldiers: they had five hundred braves, so on they came again from three different points, and again did powell's sheltered blue coats scatter them like red autumn leaves before the storm. thrice and four times did they essay to stampede the soldiers and sweep off their own dead and wounded, and each time were they soundly thrashed, thanks to cool courage and the new breech-loaders. and red cloud, cursing his medicine men, drew off his baffled braves and the hills that night resounded to their vengeful war-whoops and echoed back the wailing of the indian women mourning over the slain. "all well enough so far, lads," cried folsom, when he heard the news. "machpealota is unmasked. it's war to the knife now, so for god's sake send all the troops you can muster to the aid of those already up there in the big horn. next time he hits he'll have all the northern sioux at his back, you mark my words!" but, who the devil is john folsom? said the bureau again. arrest red cloud. bring his band in prisoners, were the orders to the agents, and the agents called for troops to go and do their bidding. it's one thing, as i've had occasion to say before, to stand off with breech-loaders a thousand indians armed only with old percussion cap muskets, squirrel rifles, bows, clubs and lances; it's another thing for soldiers armed even with the best the market affords, to march into an indian position and arrest an indian chief. there were not soldiers enough north of the platte to do it, and the war department knew it if the bureau didn't. hence the mustering in force along the river, and the mounting in hot haste of perhaps ten more troops and companies, nowhere near enough for the work in hand, but all the nation had within a month's march that could possibly be spared from other work and work more important. and there was wrath at emory, where the colonel found himself ordered to send all his transportation to frayne forthwith, and all his remaining troops except one of foot. "damnation! i've only got two companies of foot," he screamed, in the shrill treble of piping senility. "and they mean to rob me of my cavalry, too! 'c' troop is ordered to be held in readiness for special service." the transportation, consisting of three wagons and two ambulances, with the somber company of infantry, started next day, however, and dean, with eager expectancy kept his men in camp, cooked rations ready, ammunition pouches filled, arms and equipments overhauled and in perfect order, horses examined and reshod, ready for the word that might come any minute and carry him--he knew not whither. folsom and the girls had to drive back to dinner without him. despite the permission sent by the colonel, he would not leave his troop and go in town. so back they came in the soft moonlight and spent a long, lovely summer evening with him, while the band played melodiously in the fort inclosure, and the stars twinkled over the peaks of the rockies in the southern skies. folsom spent the hours wiring to omaha and conferring with such officers as he could reach. they thought the lesson given red cloud would end the business. he knew it would only begin it. burleigh, saying that he must give personal attention to the selection of the teams and wagons, spent the early evening in his corral, but sent word to folsom that he hoped to see him in the morning on business of great importance. he had other hopes, too, one of them being that now the order to send that big sum in currency to the new stockade would be revoked. he had lost no time in suggesting to the chief quartermaster of the department the extreme hazard. he quoted folsom as saying that before we could send one hundred men to warrior gap red cloud could call five thousand, and the chief quartermaster, being a man of method and a stranger to the frontier said, as said the bureau "who the devil is john folsom? do as you are told." but that answer only came the following day. meantime there was respite and hope. long lived that beautiful evening in the memory of four young hearts. a sweet south wind had been gently playing all day and left the night warm and fragrant of the pines and cedars in the mountain parks. all fort emory seemed made up of women and children now, for such few soldiers as were left, barring the bandsmen, were packing or helping pack and store about the barracks. from soon after eight until nearly ten the musicians occupied their sheltered wooden kiosk on the parade, and filled the air with sweet strains of waltz or song or stirring martial melody. for an hour, with elinor folsom on his arm, young dean was strolling up and down the moonlit walk, marveling over the beauty of her dark, yet winsome face, and loomis and jessie, stanch friends already, sauntered after them. for a time the merry chat went on unbroken. they were talking of that never-to-be-forgotten visit to the point--pappoose's first--and of the hop to which the tall cadet captain took the timid schoolgirl, and of her hop card and the distinguished names it bore, as names ran in the old days of the battalion; of ray, who danced so beautifully and rode so well--he was with the --th cavalry now somewhere along the u. p., said dean--and of billings the cadet adjutant; he was with a light battery in louisiana. "where this captain newhall is stationed," interrupted pappoose, with quick, upward look. "i wonder if he knows him, mr. dean." "he doesn't like him, i'll venture to say," said dean, "if newhall doesn't suit you and jessie, and i'm sure i shan't." and then they went on to talk of the lovely dance music they had at the point that summer, and how bewitchingly elsen used to play that pretty galop--"puckwudjies"--the very thing for a moonlit night. one could almost see the indian fairies dancing about their tiny fires. "it was that galop--my first at west point--that i danced with cadet captain dean," said pappoose, looking blithely up into his steadfast eyes. "you've no idea what a proud girl i was!" they were at the upper end of the parade at the moment. the kiosk was only fifty yards away, its band lights sparkling under the canopy, the moonlight glinting on the smooth surface of the dancing floor that an indulgent post commander had had placed there. half a dozen young garrison girls, arm in arm and by twos, were strolling about its waxen face awaiting the next piece; and some of them had been importuning the leader, for at the moment, soft and rippling, sweet and thrilling, quick and witching, the exquisite opening strains of "puckwudjies" floated out upon the night. "oh, jess! listen!" cried elinor in ecstasy and surprise, as she turned back with quickly beating heart. "no, no, indeed!" replied her soldier escort, with a throb in his breast that echoed and overmastered that in her own. "no time to listen--come! it was your first galop at the point--let it be our first in wyoming." and in a moment more the tall, lithe, supple, slender forms were gliding about the dancing-floor in perfect time to the lovely music, but now her dark eyes could not meet the fire in the blue. following their lead, loomis and jessie joined the dance. other couples from along the row hastened to the scene. in five minutes a lively hop was on at emory, and when at last, breathing a little hurriedly and with heightened color, elinor folsom glanced up into his joyous and beaming face--"you had forgotten that galop, mr. dean," she archly said, but down went the dark eyes again at his fervent reply. "yes, i admit it; but so long as i live i'll never forget this." small wonder was it that when burleigh came driving out at tattoo for a brief conference with the colonel, his sallow face took on a darker shade as he suddenly caught sight of that couple standing at the moment apart from the dancers, seeing neither them nor him, hearing for the moment no music but that which trembled in the tones of his deep voice, for elinor was strangely silent. "marshall dean," whispered jessie that night, as she hugged him before being lifted to her seat, "tell me true, wasn't pappoose's picture in your heart pocket? didn't that bullet crease it?" "promise on your honor not to tell, jess," he whispered. she nodded delightedly. "yes, and what's more, it's there now!" early on the morrow came further news. troops from steele and bridger were on the move, but no word came for the cavalry at emory, and marshall dean, hitherto most eager for field service, learned with joy he felt ashamed to own that he had still another day to spend in the society of jessie and her friend. but how much of that elation jessie could have claimed as due to her every sister whose brother is in love can better tell than i. at eight they came driving out to hear the band at guard-mounting, though to old pecksniff's pathetic sorrow he could mount only twelve men all told. that ceremony over, they watched with kindling eyes the sharp drill of marshall's troop; that soldierly young commander, one may feel well assured, showing his men, his horses, and himself off to the best of his ability, as who would not have done under such scrutiny as that. loomis was with them, but elinor drove, for her father had urgent business, he said, and must remain at his office. major burleigh, he added, was to meet him, whereat the girls were silent. "if you could have beard the major pleading with that cantankerous old fool at the fort in marshall's behalf you would get over your wrath at burleigh just as i did," said folsom, to both, apparently, and still neither answered. burleigh was evidently _persona non grata_ in the eyes of both. "he tells me captain newhall is still here, waiting for a train to be made up to run back to cheyenne. i'm afraid i'll have to ask him to bring the captain to dinner to-day. do you think mr. dean will care to come?" he asked. "i think he would rather not leave camp," said jessie slowly. "orders may come any minute, he says." "yes, i suppose so," answered folsom, vaguely relieved. something told him there was antagonism between the young fellow and burleigh that would be apt to involve newhall, too. "i'll ask them both, if you don't very much mind," he went on, whispering to elinor. "and will you tell mrs. fletcher? how is she this morning?" "just as usual, papa. she says she has rather violent headaches once in a while, and she thinks it prudent to keep her room to-day. but i can attend to everything." indeed, thought the daughter, she wished she had it all to do. and so folsom had gone to meet burleigh, and the girls had planned, at least jessie had, that marshall after drill should ride beside them into town and have a chat in the parlor while she wrote to mother in the library. but a thing happened that no one could have foreseen. just before drill was over and while they were still watching it from their seats in the covered wagon, a buggy drove up alongside and major burleigh jumped out, gave the reins to his companion and bade him come to him as soon as he had finished what he wished to do at the sutler's. the major's face was perturbed, that of his companion looked black and ugly. it was captain newhall, and something was amiss. the latter barely tipped his hat in driving away, the former heaved a sigh of relief, then turned to greet the girls. ten minutes passed in constraint and awkwardness. burleigh felt that he was unwelcome, but his eyes were fixed in fascination on elinor folsom, and he could not go. presently drill was dismissed, and dean, all aglow, came galloping up, his orderly trumpeter following. not until he had joyously greeted both the girls did he see who was standing by the forward wheel on the opposite side. "good-morning, mr. dean," said burleigh affably. "i never saw that troop look so well." "good-morning, sir," said dean coldly. then turned to speak again to miss folsom when the buggy came whirring back. "he isn't here, burleigh," said the occupant petulantly. "he's in town, and you've got to find him right off. come on!" burleigh turned livid. "captain newhall," he said, "you fail to notice i am with friends." "they are friends who will be glad to get rid of you, then," replied the stranger thickly, and it was easy to see that he had been drinking. all the same burleigh went. chapter xiv. another day dean and troop "c" were held in camp awaiting orders for special service, and no orders came. "old pecksniff" had an eye for pretty girls, a trait by no means rare in soldiers old or young, and prettier girls than pappoose and jessie he had never met. mrs. stevens was accordingly bidden to invite them to luncheon that very day, and dean and loomis were of the party, as were other young people of the post, and, despite the rising war clouds in the north and the recent unpleasantness at emory and an odd manner indicative of suppressed excitement on part of both dean and loomis, a very joyous time they had until the damsels had to drive home to dress for dinner. folsom had named six as the hour. burleigh, newhall and the two boys were mentioned as his guests. burleigh accepted for self and partner, loomis for himself, with mental reservation. dean at once had begged to be excused. after the morning's disappearance of burleigh and "surly," as miss folsom promptly named the pair, marshall had ridden into gate city at the side of the folsom carriage, and was welcomed by the old trader himself, who looked pained when told he could not attend the dinner. "surely colonel stevens will let you off," said folsom, but that obviously was not the reason. "i'm the only officer with my troop," said dean, "and so cannot ask." but when folsom took his daughter in his arms a little later and inquired whether there were not some graver cause behind the one assigned, elinor calmly answered that she thought there was, and that the cause was major burleigh. "but, daughter dear," said he, "that's just one reason i wish to bring them together. then dean could see how pleasantly disposed the major is," and he was amazed when she replied: "major burleigh may be pleasantly disposed, but mr. dean is not, by any means, nor would i be were i in his place, papa." "my child," said he, "what do you know about it?" "everything that jessie knows, besides what we heard on the train. mar--mr. dean told her of several things major burleigh had said and done to his discredit, and no wonder he declines to dine with a man who has deliberately maligned him." "i wish i had thought of that," said folsom, his knotty hands deep in the pockets of his loose-fitting trousers. "i saw burleigh this morning on some business, and he seemed to want to help dean along. what took him out to the fort, do you suppose?" "i don't know," she answered gravely. "he had captain newhall with him, in quest of somebody who wasn't there." "ah, yes, griggs, the sutler. i heard of it," interposed folsom, fingering his watchchain. "very possibly. the captain was ugly and rude in manner and major burleigh very much embarrassed. indeed, daddy dear, i should not be greatly surprised if others of your party failed to come." "burleigh, do you mean, or his queer guest?" but pappoose did not reply. she seemed listening intently, and then with swift, sudden movement darted across to the heavy navajo blanket portière that hung at the doorway of a little room back of the library. her voice was far from cordial as she asked: "were you looking for any one, mrs. fletcher? i thought you were in your room." "for mr. folsom, please, when he is at leisure," was the answer, in unruffled tones. "i believe it easier to take active part in the preparations than to lie there thinking." at one the girls were to lunch at the fort, as has been said, and it was time for them to dress. there were other matters on which elinor much wished to talk with her father and, with more reluctance than she had yet experienced, she left him to hear what mrs. fletcher might have to say. the conference was brief enough, whatever its nature, for presently his voice was heard at the foot of the stairs. "i'm going over to the depot a few minutes, daught. i wish to see burleigh. don't wait for me. start whenever you are ready. where do the boys meet you?" "here, daddy, at half-past twelve." it was high noon now, and the ruddy-faced old fellow grew redder as the summer sun beat down on his gray head, but he strode sturdily down the broad avenue that led to the heart of the bustling new town, turned to the right at the first cross street beyond his own big block, and ten minutes' brisk tramp brought him to the gateway of burleigh's stockaded inclosure. two or three employees lounging about the gate were gazing curiously within. silently they let him pass them by, but a sound of angry voices rose upon the heated air. just within the gate stood the orderly trumpeter holding two horses by the reins, one of them marshall dean's, and a sudden idea occurred to folsom as he glanced at the open windows of the office building. there was no mistaking the speaker within. it was burleigh. "leave my office instantly, sir, or i'll prefer charges that will stick----" "not till i've said what i came to say, major burleigh. i've abundant evidence of what you've been saying at my expense. you asserted that i lost my nerve the day we met red cloud's band--you who never dared get out of the ambulance until the danger was over. it's common talk in the troop. at frayne, at reno, and here at emory you have maligned me just as you did in the cars to my friend here, mr. loomis, and in hearing of my sister. i will not accept your denial nor will i leave your office till you swallow your words." "then, by god, i'll have you thrown out, you young whipsnapper!" and then folsom, with fear at his heart, ran around to the doorway to interpose. he came too late. there was a sound of a furious scuffle within, a rattling of chairs, a crunching of feet on sanded floor, and as he sprang up the steps he saw dean easily squirming out from the grasp of some member of the clerical force, who, at his master's bidding, had thrown himself upon the young officer, who then deftly tripped his heels from under him and dropped him on the floor, while loomis confronted the others who would have made some show of obeying orders. and then there was the whirr of a whip-lash, a crack and snap and swish, and a red welt shot across burleigh's livid face as he himself staggered back to his desk. with raging tongue and frantic oath he leaped out again, a leveled pistol in his hand, but even before he could pull trigger, or folsom interpose, loomis's stick came down like a flash on the outstretched wrist, and the pistol clattered to the floor. "good god, boys! what are you doing?" cried the trader, as he hurled himself between them. "stop this instantly. sit down, burleigh. come out, dean--come out at once! and you, too, loomis." "i'm entirely ready--now," said the cavalry lieutenant, though his eyes were flaming and his lips were rigid. "but whenever major burleigh wants to finish this he can find me," and with these words he backed slowly to the door, face to the panting and disordered foe. "finish this! you young hound, i'll finish you!" screamed burleigh, as he shook his clinched fist at the retiring pair. "go, boys, go!" implored folsom. "i'll see you by and by. no--no--sit still, burleigh. don't you speak. this must stop right here." and so the old man's counsels prevailed, and the two friends, with grave, pallid, but determined faces, came out into the sunshine, and with much deliberation and somewhat ostentatious calm proceeded to where the orderly waited with the horses. "you will see--the ladies out to camp, loomis?" asked dean. "i must gallop on ahead." "ay, ay, go on, i reckon----" but on this scene there suddenly appeared a third party, in the partial guise of an officer and the grip of bacchus. lurching down the office steps, with flushed face and bloodshot eyes, came captain newhall. "gen'l'm'n," said he thickly, "le'm 'ntroduce m'self. haven't th' honor y'r 'quain's. i'm ca'm new(hic)'ll. cap'n n-n-(hic)oohaul (this cost prodigious effort and much balancing), an'--an' you sherv'd that f'ler per-per-flicky ri'. he's dam scoun'rl--gen'lemen--an' ole frien' mine." for an instant he stood swaying unsteadily, with half-extended hand. for an instant the two young officers gazed at him in contempt, then turned abruptly away. "good lord, marshall," said loomis, as they cleared the gate, "if that's the only approbation this day's work will bring us what will the results be? you served him right, no doubt, but--" and an ominous shake of the head wound up the sentence. "but or no but," said dean, "it's done now, and i'd do it again." there was no dinner party at folsom's that evening. at two a messenger trotted out to the post with a note for miss folsom to apprise her of the fact, and without a word or change of color she put it into her pocket. the garrison girls were bent on having them spend the afternoon, but presently miss folsom found a moment in which to signal to jess, and at three they were driving home. "you will surely come out this evening and hear the music and have a dance," were the parting salutations, as with skillful hands the young girl took up the reins. "we hope to," was her smiling answer. jess was clinging to her brother's hand as he stood by the wheel, and loomis had already clambered in beside her. "please come, marshall," pleaded jessie; but he shook his head. "i must be at camp this evening, sister mine. we go to stables in an hour. you will come back, loomis?" "as soon as i've seen--" and a significant nod supplied the ellipsis. something ominous was in the wind and both girls knew it. loomis, usually gay and chatty, was oddly silent, as the light, covered wagon sped swiftly homeward. beside the fair charioteer sat a young officer of the infantry who, vastly rejoicing that dean could not go, had laughingly possessed himself of the vacant place, and to him miss folsom had to talk. but they parted from their escorts at the gate and hastened within doors. just as elinor expected, papa had not come home. it was nearly six when she saw him striding slowly and thoughtfully up the road, and she met him at the gate. "tell me what has happened, daddy," was her quiet greeting, as she linked her hands over his burly arm, and looking into her uplifted, thoughtful eyes, so full of intelligence and deep affection, he bent and kissed her cheek. "by jove, daughter, i believe it's the best thing i can do. come into the library." that night the moon beamed brightly down on the wide-spreading valley, glinting on the peaks, still snow-tipped, far in the southern sky, and softening the rugged faces of the nearer range, black with their clustering beard of spruce and pine. the band played sweetly on the broad parade until after the tattoo drums had echoed over the plains and the garrison belles strolled aimlessly in the elfin light--all nature so lavishly inviting, yet so little valued now that nearly every man was gone. out in the camp of "c" troop men were flitting swiftly to and fro, horses were starting and stamping at the picket ropes, eager eyes and tilted ears inquiring the cause of all this stir and bustle among the tents. in front of the canvas home of the young commander a grave-faced group had gathered, two gentle girls among them, one with tear-dimmed eyes. old folsom stood apart in murmured conference with griggs, the sutler. the regimental quartermaster was deep in consultation with dean, the two officers pacing slowly up and down. one or two young people from the garrison had spent a few minutes earlier in the evening striving to be interesting to the girls; but jessie's tearful eyes and miss folsom's grave manner proved hint sufficient to induce them to withdraw, each bidding dean good night, safe journey and speedy return, and the hand-clasps were kind and cordial. the colonel himself had paid a brief visit to camp, his adjutant in attendance, and had given mr. dean ten minutes of talk concerning a country dean knew all about, but that "pecksniff" had never seen. "it is a responsibility i own i should have expected to see placed on older shoulders," said he, "but prudence and--and, let me suggest, cool-headedness--will probably carry you through. you will be ready to start----" "ready now, sir, so far as that's concerned; but we start at three." "oh, ah--yes, of course--well--ah--it leaves me practically with no command, but i'll hope to have you back, mr. dean. good-by." then as he passed folsom the colonel whispered: "that's ten thousand dollars as good as thrown away." "ten thousand dollars!" answered the trader in reply. "what do you mean?" "that's what those boys are to run the gauntlet with. my--ah--protests are entirely unavailing." for a moment folsom stood there dumb. "do you mean," he finally cried, "that--that it's beyond frayne that they're going--that it's money they're to take?" "hush! certainly, but it mustn't be known. every road agent in wyoming would be out, and every indian from the platte to hudson's bay would be on the watch. he's to take ten men and slip through. the money comes out from burleigh to-night." the colonel turned away, and, beckoning to his staff officer to join us, stumped onward to the garrison. the prolonged wail of the bugle, aided by the rising night wind, sent the solemn strains of taps sailing down the dimly-lighted valley, and with staring eyes old folsom stood gazing after the departing officers, then whirled about toward the tents. there in front of dean stood pappoose, her hands clasped lightly over the hilt of the saber the "striker" had leaned against the lid of the mess chest but a moment before, her lovely face smiling up into the owner's. "you'll come back by way of hal's, won't you?" she was blithely saying. "perhaps i can coax father to take us there to meet you." "by heaven, burleigh," muttered the old trader to himself, "are you the deepest man i ever met, or only the most infernal scoundrel?" chapter xv. a sleepless night had old john folsom, and with the sun he was up again and hurriedly dressing. noiseless as he strove to be he was discovered, for as he issued from his room into the dim light of the upper hall there stood pappoose. "poor jess has been awake an hour," said she. "we've been trying to see the troop through the glass. they must have started before daybreak, for there's nothing on the road to frayne." "it disappears over the divide three miles out," he answered vaguely, and conscious that her clear eyes were studying his face. "i didn't sleep well either. we shall be having news from hal to-day, and the mail rider comes down from frayne." she had thrown about her a long, loose wrapper, and her lustrous hair tumbled like a brown-black torrent down over her shoulders and back. steadfastly the brown eyes followed his every move. "it is hours to breakfast time, daddy dear; let me make you some coffee before you go out." "what? who said i was going out?" he asked, forcing a smile; then, more gravely: "i'll be back in thirty minutes, dear, but wait a moment i cannot. i want to catch a man before he can possibly ride away." he bent and kissed her hurriedly, and went briskly down the stairs. in the lower hall he suddenly struck a parlor match that flared up and illumined the winding staircase to the third story. some thought as sudden prompted her to glance aloft just in time to catch a glimpse of a woman's face withdrawing swiftly over the balcony rail. in her hatred of anything that savored of spying the girl could have called aloud a demand to know what mrs. fletcher wanted, but strange things were in the wind, as she was learning, and something whispered silence. slowly she returned to jessie's side, and together once more they searched with the glasses the distant trail that, distinctly visible now in the slant of the morning sun, twisted up the northward slopes on the winding way to frayne. not a whiff of dust could they see. meantime john folsom strode swiftly down the well-known path to the quartermaster's depot, a tumult of suspicion and conjecture whirling in his brain. as he walked he recalled the many hints and stories that had come to his ears of burleigh's antecedents elsewhere and his associations here. with all his reputation for enterprise and wealth, there were "shady" tales of gambling transactions and salted mines and watered stocks that attached perhaps more directly to the men with whom he foregathered than to him. "a man is known by the company he keeps," said folsom, and burleigh's cronies, until folsom came to settle in gate city, had been almost exclusively among the "sharps," gamblers, and their kindred, the projectors and prospectors ever preying on the unwary on the outer wave of progress. within the past six months he had seen much of him, for burleigh was full of business enterprises, had large investments everywhere, was lavish in invitation and suggestion, was profuse in offers of aid of any kind if aid were wanted. he had gone so far as to say that he knew from experience how with his wealth tied up in real estate and mines a man often found himself in need of a few thousands in spot cash, and as folsom was buying and building, if at any time he found himself a little short and needed ten or twenty thousand say, why, burleigh's bank account was at his service, etc. it all sounded large and liberal, and folsom, whose lot for years had been cast with a somewhat threadbare array of army people, content with little, impecunious but honest, he wondered what manner of martial man this was. burleigh did not loudly boast of his wealth and influence, but impressed in some ponderous way his hearers with a sense of both. yet, ever since that run to warrior gap, a change had come over burleigh. he talked more of mines and money and showed less, and now, only yesterday, when the old man's heart had mellowed to him because he had first held him wholly to blame for dean's arrest and later found him pleading for the young fellow's release, a strange thing had happened. burleigh confided to him that he had a simply fabulous opportunity--a chance to buy out a mine that experts secretly told him was what years later he would have called a "bonanza," but that in the late sixties was locally known as a "shanghai." twenty-five thousand dollars would do the trick, but his money was tied up. would folsom go in with him, put up twelve thousand five hundred, and burleigh would do the rest? folsom had been bitten by too many mines that yielded only rattlesnakes, and he couldn't be lured. then, said burleigh, wouldn't folsom go on his note, so that he could borrow at the bank? folsom seldom went on anybody's note. it was as bad as mining. he begged off, and left burleigh disappointed, but not disconcerted. "i can raise it without trouble," said he, "but it may take forty-eight hours to get the cash here, and i thought you would be glad to be let in on the ground floor." "i've been let in to too many floors, major," said he. "you'll have to excuse me." and so burleigh, with his louisiana captain, had driven off to the fort, where newhall asked for griggs and was importunate, nor did griggs's whisky, freely tendered to all comers of the commissioned class, tend to assuage his desire. back had they gone to town, and then came the cataclysm of noon. in broad daylight, at his official desk, in the presence and hearing of officers, civilians and enlisted men, as the soldier lawyers would have it, a staff official of high rank had been cowhided by a cavalry subaltern, and that subaltern, of all others, the only brother of folsom's fair guest, jessie dean--the boy who had saved the lives of folsom's son and his son's imperiled household, and had thereby endeared himself to him as had no other young soldier in the service. and now, what fate was staring him in the face? released from arrest but a day or so before upon the appeal of the officer whom he had so soon thereafter violently assaulted, marshall dean had committed one of the gravest crimes against the provisions of the mutiny act. without warrant or excuse he had struck, threatened, assaulted, etc., a superior officer, who was in the discharge of his duty at the time. no matter what the provocation--and in this case it would be held grossly inadequate--there could be only one sentence--summary dismissal from the army. just as sure as shooting, if burleigh preferred charges that boy was ruined. and for mortal hours that afternoon it looked as though nothing could hold burleigh's hand. the man was livid with wrath. first he would have the youngster's blood, and then he'd dismiss him. folsom pointed out that he couldn't well do both, and by two o'clock it simmered down to a demand for instant court-martial. burleigh wrote a furious telegram to omaha. he had been murderously assaulted in his office by lieutenant dean. he demanded his immediate arrest and trial. folsom pleaded with him to withhold it. every possible _amende_ would be made, but no! indeed, not until nearly four o'clock could folsom succeed in the last resort at his disposal. at that hour he had lent the quartermaster fifteen thousand dollars on his unindorsed note of hand, on condition that no proceedings whatever should be taken against mr. dean, folsom guaranteeing that every _amende_ should be made that fair arbitration could possibly dictate. he had even gone alone to the bank and brought the cash on burleigh's representation that it might hurt his credit to appear as a borrower. he had even pledged his word that the transaction should be kept between themselves. and then there had been a scene with that drunken wretch newhall. what possible hold had he on burleigh that he should be allowed to come reeling and storming into the office and demanding money and lots of money--this, too, in the presence of total strangers? and burleigh had actually paid him then and there some hundreds of dollars, to the stupefaction of the fellow--who had come for a row. they got him away somehow, glad to go, possibly, with his unexpected wealth, and burleigh had explained that that poor devil, when he could be persuaded to swear off, was one of the bravest and most efficient officers in the service, that he was well to do, only his money, too, was tied up in mines; but what was of more account than anything else, he had devotedly and at risk of his own life from infection nursed his brother officer burleigh through the awful epidemic of yellow fever in new orleans in ' . he had saved burleigh's life, "so how can i go back on him now," said he. all this was the old trader revolving in mind as he hastened to the depot, all this and more. for two days marshall dean and "c" troop had stood ready for special service. rumor had it that the old general himself had determined to take the field and was on his way to gate city. it was possibly to escort him and his staff the troop was ordered kept prepared to move at a moment's notice. on burleigh's desk was a batch of telegrams from department headquarters. two came in during their long conference in the afternoon, and the quartermaster had lowered his hand long enough from that lurid welt on his sallow cheek to hurriedly write two or three in reply. one folsom felt sure was sent in cipher. two days before, burleigh had urged him to protest as vehemently as he could against the sending of any money or any small detachment up to the big horn, and protested he had strenuously. two days before, burleigh said it was as bad as murder to order a paymaster or disbursing officer to the hills with anything less than a battalion to escort him, and yet within four hours after he was put in possession of nearly all the paper currency in the local bank a secret order was issued sending lieutenant dean with ten picked men to slip through the passes to the platte, away from the beaten road, and up to ten p.m. dean himself was kept in ignorance of his further destination or the purpose of his going. not until half-past ten was a sealed package placed in his hands by the post quartermaster, who had himself received it from major burleigh and then and there the young officer was bidden by colonel stevens, as the medium of the department commander, to ride with all haste commensurate with caution, to ford the sweetwater above its junction with the platte, to travel by night if need be and hide by day if he could, to let no man or woman know the purpose of his going or the destination of his journey, but to land that package safe at warrior gap before the moon should wane. and all this burleigh must have known when he, john folsom, shook his hand at parting after tea that evening, and had then gone hopefully to drive his girls to emory to see his soldier boy, and found him busy with the sudden orders, received not ten minutes before their coming. something in burleigh's almost tremulous anxiety to get that money in the morning, his ill-disguised chagrin at folsom's refusal, something in the eagerness with which, despite the furious denunciation of the moment before, he jumped at folsom's offer to put up the needed money if he would withhold the threatened charges--all came back to the veteran now and had continued to keep him thinking during the night. could it be that burleigh stood in need of all this money to cover other sums that he had misapplied? could it be that he had planned this sudden sending of young dean on a desperate mission in revenge that he could not take officially? there were troops at frayne going forward in strong force within the week. there were other officers within call, a dozen of them, who had done nowhere near the amount of field service performed by dean. he, a troop commander just in from long and toilsome marches and from perilous duty, had practically been relieved from the command of his troop, told to take ten men and run the gauntlet through the swarming sioux. the more folsom thought the more he believed that he had grave reason for his suspicion, and reason equally grave for calling on the quartermaster for explanation. he reached the corral gate. it was locked, but a little postern in the stockade let him through. one or two sleepy hands appeared about the stables, but the office was deserted. straight to burleigh's quarters he went and banged at the door. it took three bangs to bring a servant. "i wish to see your master at once. tell him i am here," and as the servant slowly shambled up the stairs, folsom entered the sitting-room. a desk near the window was open and its contents littered about. the drawers in a heavy bookcase were open and papers were strewn upon the floor. the folding doors to the dining-room were open. decanters, goblets, cigar stumps and heel taps were scattered over the table. guest or host, or both, had left things in riotous shape. then down came the servant, a scared look in his eyes. "the major isn't in, sir. his bed hasn't been occupied, an' the captain's gone, too. their uniforms are there, though." five minutes later, on a borrowed horse, john folsom was galloping like mad for home. a door in the high board fence at the rear of his house shot open just as he was darting through the lane that led to the stable. a woman's form appeared in the gap--the last thing that he saw for a dozen hours, for the horse shied violently, hurling the rider headlong to the ground. chapter xvi. at three o'clock in the morning, while the stars were still bright in the eastern sky, the little party of troopers, dean at the irhead, had ridden away from the twinkling lights of camp, and long before sunrise had crossed the first divide to the north, and alternating trot, lope and walk had put miles between them and fort emory before the drums of the infantry beat the call for guard mounting. at ten o'clock the party halted under some spreading willows, deep in a cleft of the bold, high hills that rolled away toward the sweetwater valley. horses were unsaddled and picketed out to graze. a little cook fire was started close to the spring that fed the tiny brook, trickling away down the narrow ravine, and in a few moments the aroma of coffee and of appetizing slices of bacon greeted the welcoming nostrils of the hungry men. the sun that had risen clear and dazzling was now obscured by heavy masses of clouds, and time and again dean cast anxious eyes aloft, for a storm seemed sweeping eastward from the distant wahsatch range, and long before the little command had dived downward from the heights into the depths of this wild, romantic and contracted valley, all the rolling upland toward green river, far to the west, lay under the pall of heavy and forbidding banks of hurrying vapor. coffee and breakfast finished, dean climbed the steep bluff overhanging the spring, a faithful sergeant following, and what he saw was sufficient to determine immediate action. "saddle up. we'll push ahead at once." for an instant the veteran trooper looked dissent, but discipline prevailed. "the lieutenant knows that carey's not in yet," he ventured to say, as he started back down the narrow game trail which they had climbed. "yes; but yonder he comes and so does the storm. we can't be caught in this cañon in case of a hard rain. let carey have some coffee and a bite, if he feels well enough. then we'll push on." ordinarily when making summer marches over the range, the first "water camp" on the sweetwater trail was here at cañon springs. on the road to frayne, which crossed the brook ten miles to the east, all wagon trains and troops not on forced march made similar camp. in the case of scouting detachments or little parties sent out from emory, it was always customary to spend the first night and make the first camp on the box elder at furthermost, then to push on, ready and refreshed, the following day. dean well knew that to get the best work out of his horses he should start easily, and up to nine o'clock he had fully intended to make the usual camp at the springs. but once before, within a few years, a big scouting party camping in the gorge of the box elder had been surprised by one of those sudden, sweeping storms, and before they could strike tents, pack up and move to higher ground, the stream took matters into its own hands and spared them all further trouble on that score, distributing camp and garrison equipage for long leagues away to the east. two miles back, trooper carey, who had been complaining of severe cramp and pain in the stomach, begged to be allowed to fall out and rest awhile. he was a reliable old soldier when whisky was not winning the upper hand, and this time whisky was not at fault. a dose of jamaica ginger was the only thing their field pharmacopoeia provided, and carey rolled out of his saddle and doubled up among the rocks with his hands on the pit of his stomach, grimacing. "go back if you think best, or come ahead and catch us at the springs if well enough," were the orders left him, while the men pushed on, and now, as the lieutenant said, carey was coming himself. some of the party were already dozing when the sergeant's sharp order "saddle up" was given, but a glance at the lowering sky explained it all, and every man was standing to horse and ready when the missing trooper came jogging in among them, white, peaked, but determined. a look of mingled disappointment and relief appeared on his face as he saw the preparations for the start, but his only comment was, "i can make it, sir," as he saluted his young commander. less than two hours from the time they unsaddled, therefore, the troopers once more mounted, and, following their leader, filed away down the winding gorge. presently there came the low rumble of thunder, and a sweep of the rising wind. "trot," said dean, and without other word the little column quickened the pace. the ravine grew wider soon and far less tortuous, but was still a narrow and dangerous spot. for a mile or two from the springs its course was nearly east of north, then it bore away to the northeast, and the sweetwater trail abruptly left it and went winding up a cleft in the hills to the west. just as they reached this point the heavens opened and the clouds descended in a deluge of rain. out came the ponchos, unstrapped from the saddle, and every man's head popped through the slit as the shiny black "shedwater" settled down on his shoulders. "that outfit behind us will get a soaking if it has been fool enough to follow down to the springs," said carey to the sergeant, as they began the pull up the slippery trail. "what outfit?" asked dean, turning in the saddle and looking back in surprise. a blinding flash of lightning, followed almost on the instant by the crack and roar of thunder, put summary stop to talk of any kind. men and horses bowed their heads before the deluge and the rain ran in streams from the manes and tails. the ascending path turned quickly into a running brook and the black forms of steeds and riders struggled sidewise up the grass-grown slopes in search of higher ground. the heavens had turned inky black. the gloomy ravine grew dark as night. flash after flash the lightning split the gloom. every second or two trooper faces gleamed ghastly in the dazzling glare, then as suddenly vanished. horses slipped or stumbled painfully and, man after man, the riders followed the example of the young soldier in the lead and, dismounting, led their dripping beasts farther up the steep incline. halfway to the summit, peering through the wind-swept sheets of rain, a palisaded clump of rocks jutted out from the heights and, after a hard climb, the little band found partial shelter from the driving storm, and huddled, awe-stricken, at their base. still the lightning played and the thunder cannonaded with awful resonance from crag to crag down the deep gorge from which they had clambered, evidently none too soon, for presently, far down the black depths, they could see the box elder, under a white wreath of foam, tearing in fury down its narrow bed. "beg pardon, lieutenant," shouted the veteran sergeant in the young commander's ear, even in that moment never forgetting the habitual salute, "but if i didn't see the reason for that sudden order to saddle i more than see it now. we would have been drowned like rats down there in the gulch." "i'm wondering if anybody _has_ drowned like rats," shouted dean, in reply. "carey says another party was just behind us. who could they be?" but for answer came another vivid, dazzling flash that for an instant blinded all eyes. "by god! but that's a stunner!" gasped a big trooper, and then followed the deafening bang and crash of the thunder, and its echoes went booming and reverberating from earth to heaven and rolling away, peal after peal, down the bluff-bound cañon. for a moment no other sound could be heard; then, as it died away and the rain came swashing down in fresh deluge, carey's voice overmastered the storm. "that's struck something, sir, right around yonder by the springs. god help that outfit that came a-gallopin' after me!" "what was it? which way were they coming?" dean managed to ask. "right along the bluff, sir, to the east. seemed like they was ridin' over from the old camp on the frayne road. there was twenty-five or thirty of 'em, i should say, coming at a lope." "cavalry?" asked dean, a queer look in his face. "no, sir. they rode dispersed like. they was a mile away when i sighted them, and it was gittin' so black then i don't think they saw me at all. they were 'bout off yonder, half a mile east of the springs when i dipped down into the ravine, and what seemed queer was that two of them galloped to the edge, dismounted, and were peering down into the gorge like so many indians, just as though they didn't want to be seen. i was goin' to tell the lieutenant 'bout it first thing if i had found our fellows off their guard, but you were all mounted and just starting." instinctively dean put forth his hand under the dripping poncho and tugged at the straps of his off saddle-bag. no need for dread on that score. the bulky package, wrapped, sealed and corded, was bulging out of the side of his field pouch till it looked as though he had crammed a cavalry boot into its maw. "thirty men--mounted?--no wagons or--anything?" he anxiously asked. "full thirty, sir, and every man armed with rifle as far as i could see," said carey, "and if it was us they was after, they'd have had us at their mercy down in that pocket at the springs." a shout from one of the men attracted the attention of the leaders. the storm had spent its force and gone rolling away eastward. the thunder was rumbling far over toward the now invisible crest of the black hills of wyoming. the rain sheets had given place to trickling downpour. a dim light was stealing into the blackness of the gorge. louder and fiercer roared the box elder, lashing its banks with foam. and then came the cry again. "i tell you it is, by god! for there goes another!" all eyes followed the direction of the pointing finger. all eyes saw, even though dimly, the saddled form of a horse plunging and struggling in the flood, making vain effort to clamber out, then whirling helplessly away--swept out of sight around the shoulder of bluff, and borne on down the tossing waves of the torrent. men mean no irreverence when they call upon their maker at such times, even in soldier oath. it is awe, not blasphemy. "by god, lieutenant, that's what we'd a been doing but for your order." it was the sergeant who spoke. and at that very hour there was excitement at fort emory. at eight o'clock the colonel was on his piazza looking with gloomy eyes over the distant rows of empty barracks. the drum-major with the band at his heels came stalking out over the grassy parade, and the post adjutant, girt with sash and sword-belt, stood in front of his office awaiting the sergeant-major, who was unaccountably delayed. reduced to a shadow, the garrison at fort emory might reasonably have been excused, by this time, from the ceremony of mounting a guard, consisting practically of ten privates, three of whom wore the cavalry jacket; but old "pecksniff" was determined to keep up some show of state. he could have no parade or review, but at least he could require his guard to be mounted with all the pomp and ceremony possible. he would have ordered his officers out in epaulets and the full dress "kossuth" hat of the period, but epaulets had been discarded during the war and not yet resumed on the far frontier. so the rank and file alone were called upon to appear in the black-feathered oddity a misguided staff had designed as the headgear of the array. "pecksniff's" half-dozen doughboys, therefore, with their attendant sergeants and corporals in the old fashioned frock and felt, and a still smaller squad of troopers in yellow-trimmed jackets and brass-mounted forage caps, were drawn up at the edge of the parade awaiting the further signal of adjutant's call, while the adjutant himself swore savagely and sent the orderly on the run for the sergeant-major. when that clock-governed functionary was missing something indeed must be going wrong. presently the orderly came running back. "sergeant dineen isn't home, sir, and his wife says he hasn't been back since the lieutenant sent him in town with the last dispatch." "tell the first sergeant of "b" company, then, to act as sergeant-major at once," said the adjutant, and hurried over to his colonel. "dineen's not back, sir," he reported at the gate. "can anything be wrong?" "i ordered him to bring with him the answer to my dispatch to the general, who wired to me from the railway depot at cheyenne. probably he's been waiting for that, and the general's away somewhere. we ought to have an operator here day and night," said pecksniff petulantly. but the irritation in his eyes gave way to anxiety when at that moment the sutler's buggy was seen dashing into the garrison at headlong speed, his smart trotter urged almost to a run. griggs reined up with no little hard pulling at the colonel's gate, and they could see a dozen yards off that his face was pale. "have you any idea, colonel," he began the moment the officers reached him, "where major burleigh can be? he left the depot somewhere about three o'clock this morning with that captain newhall. he hasn't returned and can't be found. your sergeant-major was waylaid and robbed some time after midnight, and john folsom was picked up senseless in the alley back of his house two hours ago. what does it all mean?" chapter xvii. that storm-burst along the range had turned for twenty-four hours every mountain stream into a foaming torrent for a hundred miles. not a bridge remained along the platte. not a ford was fordable within two days' march of either emory or frayne. not a courier crossed the box elder, going either way, until the flood went down, and then it transpired that a tide in the affairs of men had also turned, and that there was trouble ahead for some who had thought to find plain sailing. for two days watchers along the lower box elder dragged out upon the shallows the bodies of horses that once upon a time might have borne the "u. s." brand, but were not girthed with cavalry saddles now. nor were there lacking other bodies to prove that the victims of the sudden storm were not uncle sam's men, much as two, at least, of the drowned had been wanted by federal authorities but a week before. what the denizens of gate city and fort emory dreaded and expected to bear was that dean and his little party had been caught in the trap. but, living or dead, not a sign of them remained along the storm-swept ravine. what most people of gate city and fort emory could not understand was the evidence that a big gang of horse thieves, desperadoes and renegades had suddenly appeared about the new town, had spurred away northward in the night, had kept the frayne road till they reached the box elder, riding hard long after sun-up, and there, reinforced, they had gone westward to the sweetwater trail, and, old frontiersmen though they were, had been caught in the whirl of water at cañon springs, losing two of their number and at least a dozen of their horses. what could have lured them into that gloomy rift at such a time? what inspiration had led dean out of it? singly or in little squads, many of them afoot, bedraggled, silent, chagrined, the "outfit," described by trooper carey had slunk away from the neighborhood of the box elder as soon as the storm subsided. solemnly, as befitted soldiers, silent and and alert despite their dripping accoutrements, the little detachment of cavalry had pushed ahead, riding by compass over the drenched uplands, steering for the sweetwater. late in the afternoon the skies had cleared, the sun came out, and they camped in a bunch of cottonwoods on the old casper trail and slept the sleep of the just and the weary. early next day they hastened on, reaching the usually shallow stream, with devil's gate only a few miles away, before the setting of a second sun. here they feasted and rested well, and before the dawn was fairly red on the third day out from emory they were breasting the turbid waters and by noon had left the valley far to the south and were well out toward the big horn country, where it behooved them to look warily ahead, for from every ridge, though far to the west of their probable raiding ground, dean and his men could expect to encounter scouting parties of the indians at any moment, and one false step meant death. the third night passed without alarm, though every eye and ear was strained. the morning of the fourth day dawned and the sun soon tinged the misty mountain tops to the far north, and dean saw before him an open rolling country, over which it would be impossible to march without attracting indian eyes, if indian eyes there were within twenty miles. and with proper caution he ordered his men to keep in concealment, horses grazing under guard in a deep depression near a stream, men dozing soundly by turns until the twilight came, and then the stars--their night lights for a long, long march. dawn of the fifth day found them huddled in a deep ravine of the southern foothills, with warrior gap not thirty miles away, and now, indeed, was prudence necessary, for the faint light showed the fresh prints of innumerable pony hoofs on every side. they were close on machpealota's lurking braves. which would see the other first? it must have been somewhere toward five o'clock in the afternoon that dean, searching with his field glass the sunlit slopes far out to the east, heard the voice of his sergeant close at hand and turned to answer. up to this moment, beyond the pony tracks, not a sign had they seen of hostile indians, but the buffalo that had appeared in scattered herds along their line of march were shy and scary, and old hands said that that meant they had recently been hunted hard. moreover, this was not a section favored of the buffalo. there was much alkali and sage brush along their trail, and only here and there in scanty patches any of the rich, nutritious bunch grass which the roving animals so eagerly sought. the day had been hot and almost cloudless. the shimmer of heat along the lazy roll of the land to the south had often baffled their blinking eyes. but now the sun was well to the west, and the refraction seemed diminishing, and away over to the northeast a dull-colored cloud seemed slowly rising beyond the ridges. it was this that sergeant bruce was studying when he murmured to his young commander: "i think that means a big herd on the run, sir, and if so indians started them." one or two troopers, dozing close at hand, sprawled full length upon the ground, with their faces buried in, or hidden by, their blue-sleeved arms, slowly rolled over and came crouching up alongside. dean dropped his glasses and peered in the direction indicated by his comrade of humbler rank. dust cloud it was beyond a doubt, and a long peep through the binocular proved that it was slowly sailing across the horizon in a northerly direction. did that mean that the red hunters were driving the great quarry toward the village of the sioux, or that the young men were out in force, and with the full complement of squaws and ponies, were slaughtering on the run. if the former, then dean and his party would be wise to turn eastward and cross the trail of the chase. if the latter they would stand better chance of slipping through to the gap by pushing northward, deeper in among the pine-crested heights. behind the watchers, well down in the ravine, the horses were placidly nibbling at the scant herbage, or lazily sprawling in the sun, each animal securely hoppled, and all carefully guarded by the single trooper, whose own mount, ready saddled, circled within the limits of the stout lariat, looped about his master's wrist. all spoke of caution, of lively sense of danger and responsibility, for they of the little detachment were picked men, who had ridden the warpath too long not to realize that there was no such thing as trusting to luck in the heart of the indian country, especially when machpealota with his ogallalla braves was out for business. the cautious movements of the group along the bank had quickly been noted by the wakeful ones among the troopers, and presently the entire party, excepting only the herd guard, had crouched up alongside, and with the comradeship born of such perilous service, were now discussing the situation in low, confidential tones. for half an hour they lay there, studying the signs to the northeast. the dun colored cloud hung low over the earth for a distance of several miles. the herd was evidently one of unusual size even for those days when the buffalo swarmed in countless thousands, and finally the sergeant spoke again. "it's a big hunt, lieutenant. whatever may be going on about the gap they've found time to send out young men enough to round up most of the buffalo north of the platte and drive them in toward the mountains. it's combining pleasure with business. they don't feel strong enough in number, perhaps, to make another attempt on troops armed with breech-loaders, so while they're waiting until their reinforcements come, or their own breech-loaders, they are herding the buffalo where they can get them when they want them later on. we are in big luck that no stragglers are anywhere around us; if they were it wouldn't take such fellows long to spy us out." dean swept the ridge line with his glass. no sign of life nearer than that far-away, betraying dust cloud. no symptom of danger anywhere within their ken. he was thinking at the moment of that precious package in his saddle-bags and the colonel's words impressing him with the sense of responsibility the night they parted at fort emory. to-morrow, by sunrise, if fortune favored him, he could turn it over to the commanding officer at the new stockade, and then if the indians were not gathered in force about the post and actually hostile, he could slip out again at night and make swift dash for the platte and the homeward way, and then within the week rejoin his sister at fort emory--his sister and "pappoose." never before had the indian pet name carried such significance as now. night and day those soft, dark eyes--that beautiful face--haunted his thoughts and filled his young heart with new and passionate longing. it was hard to have to leave the spot her presence made enchanted ground. nothing but the spur of duty, the thrill of soldier achievement and stirring venture could have reconciled him to that unwelcome order. in one week now, if fortune favored and heaven spared, he could hope to look again into the eyes that had so enchained him, but if there should interpose the sterner lot of the frontier, if the sioux should learn of his presence, he who had thwarted burning star and the brothers of poor lizette in their schemes of vengeance, he at whose door the ogallallas must by this time have laid the death of one of their foremost braves, then indeed would there be no hope of getting back without a battle royal. there was only one chance of safety--that the indians should not discover their presence. if they did and realized who the intruders were, jessie dean might look in vain for her brother's return. pappoose would never hear the love words that, trembling on his lips the night he left her, had been poured out only to that unresponsive picture. two ways there were in which the indians could know of his presence. one by being informed through some half-breed spy, lurking about frayne; but then who would be dastard enough to send such word? the other by being seen and recognized by some of the ogallalla band, and thus far he believed they had come undetected, and it was now after five o'clock--after five o'clock and all was well. in a few hours they could again be on their starlit way. with the morrow they should be safely within the gates of the new stockade at warrior gap. turning with hope and relief in his face to speak to sergeant bruce, who lay there at his elbow, he saw the blue-sleeved arm stretching forth in warning to lie low, and with grave eyes the veteran was gazing straight at a little butte that rose from the rolling surface not more than half a mile away to the southeast. "lieutenant," he whispered, "there are indians back of that hill at this minute, and it isn't buffalo they're laying for." dean was brave. he had been tried and his mettle was assured, and yet he felt the sudden chill that coursed his veins. "how can they have seen us," he murmured. "may have struck our trail out to the southwest," said bruce slowly, "or they may have been told of our coming and are stalking us. they've got a heavy score to settle with this troop, you know." for a moment only the breathing of the little party could be heard. all eyes were fixed upon the distant mound. at last dean spoke again. "when did you see them first and how many are there?" "near ten minutes ago. i saw something fluttering swift along the sky line just beyond that divide to the south. it skimmed like a bird, all but the quick bobbing up and down that made me sure there was a galloping pony under it. then another skimmed along. it was the bunch of feathers and red flannel on their lances, and my belief is that they struck our trail back here somewhere, and that there's only a small party, and they don't know just who we are and they want to find out." "you're right. look!" was dean's sudden answer, for at the very instant there rode boldly, calmly into full view two young indians, who with cool deliberation came jogging on at gentle speed, straight toward the concealed bivouac of the troopers. instantly bruce reached for his carbine, and two or three of the men went sliding or crouching backward down the slope as though in quest of their arms. full eight hundred yards away were the riders at the moment, coming side by side in apparent unconcern. "don't," muttered dean, with hand outstretched. "they look anything but hostile." "that's when they're most likely to be full of hell, sir," was the prompt answer. "see! others are watching behind that knoll," and indeed as bruce declared, a feather-decked head or two could be detected through the glass, peering over the summit. "warn them to halt, then," cried dean. "but we cannot fire unless they provoke it." bruce was on his feet in a second. standing erect and facing straight toward the coming pair, he raised his right hand, palm to the front, to the full length of his arm, and slowly motioned "stand." every plainsman knows the signal. in well-acted surprise, the indians reined their ponies flat back, and, shading their eyes with their hands a moment, remained motionless. then, as with one accord, each tossed aside his rifle, and one of them further lifted high and displayed a revolver. this, too, he tossed out on the turf, and now with both arms bare and extended on high, with empty hands outspread, they slowly advanced as though saying "see, we are without arms. we come as brothers." but the sergeant never hesitated. almost on tiptoe he repeated the signal "halt," and half-turned imploringly to his officer. "it's all a bluff, sir. they want to crawl upon us, see who and how many we are. let some of us fire warning shots or come they will, and the moment they find out who we are, away they'll ride to bring red cloud and all his bucks about our ears." "i cannot fire," was the answer. "that's their flag of truce and we must not ignore it. let them come, sergeant; i'll meet them." chapter xviii. remonstrance on part of his men would have been a violation of their rules of order. obedient to the lieutenant's instructions, sergeant bruce, with evident reluctance, lowered his hand. whoever these indians were they well understood the principles that governed civilized warfare. they well knew that the white soldiers would respect a flag of truce, though in their own vernacular they referred to the sacred emblem only as a "fool flag," and sometimes used it, as did the modocs five years later, to lure officers into ambush and deliberately murder them. they knew the white soldiers would take no advantage of foemen gathered for a conference or parley, and thus far the sioux themselves had observed the custom which the modocs basely violated when in cold blood they slaughtered general canby and the peace commissioners sent to treat with them. confidently, therefore, came the two young warriors, but as dean raised himself from the ground and was about to step forward, the sergeant spoke: "beg pardon, sir, but these fellows know all our officers. they would recognize you at once. the word would go to red cloud faster than any pony could gallop. let me meet them, or let one of the men." the ponies were coming at the lope now, and not an instant was to be lost. the safety of his command might possibly depend on their not being recognized as of the troop before whose carbines chaska, brother to lizette, had met his death. "perhaps you're right," said dean. "halt them again. conroy, you go with sergeant bruce." eagerly a young trooper, carbine in hand, sprang up and stood by the sergeant's side as the latter repeated his warning signal. obediently, yet not too promptly, showing evident desire to get where they could peer over into the ravine and count the number of the white men and horses, the indians again drew rein, this time barely one hundred yards away. then bruce and conroy, holding up their emptied hands, strode forward along the grassy slope, making the further sign, "dismount." in those days few of our cavalry wore, when on indian campaign, the forage-cap with its crossed sabres and distinguishing letters. nothing in the dress or accoutrements of the two men thus advancing to meet the indian emissaries would give to the latter any clew as to the troop or regiment to which they belonged. could they see the horses, however, the matter would be settled at once. the u. s. brand, with that of the number of the regiment and letter of the troop showed on every cavalry mount in the service, and the ogallallas knew the earmarks of two, at least, of our cavalry regiments in ' as well as they did the cut of their own hair. but in the modesty of the non-commissioned officer bruce had underrated his own prominence in indian eyes. not only did these keen observers know every officer by sight, and have for him some distinguishing name of their own, but many a trooper, easily singled out from his fellows because of his stature, or the color of his hair, or some other physical peculiarity, was as well known as his captain or lieutenant, and bruce, ex-trooper of the scots greys, and now a model sergeant of yankee cavalry, was already a marked man in the eyes of the southern sioux. brulé, minneconjou and ogallalla knew him well--his aquiline beak, to which the men would sometimes slyly allude, having won him the indian appellative of posh kopee or big nose. before the two parties came within fifty yards of each other, therefore, watchers along the ravine saw the quick exchange of significant glances between the young braves. "twig that?" whispered trooper blaine, in low, emphatic tone. "those fellows know 'scotty' just as well as we do." all the same, leaving their trained ponies to nibble at the scanty bunch grass, the two came straight forward with extended hands and cordial "how, colah!" on their lips, one of them adding, in agency english, "want talk chief. indian poor. heap sick." (and here he clasped his stomach with both hands.) "want coffee, sugar, bread." "all right," said bruce promptly, noting the while how the roving black eyes searched the edge of the ravine. "stay here. don't come nearer. you got buffalo meat?" a grunt was the reply of one, a guttural "buffalo, yes," the answer of the other. "bring tongues, then," and bruce touched his own. "five," and he threw forward the outspread right hand, rapidly touching in succession the thumb and four fingers. "we give both hands full--coffee, sugar, hardtack," and bruce illustrated as he spoke. "that's all!" he finished abruptly, with the well-known indian sign that plainly tells "i have spoken--there is nothing more to say," then calmly turned his back and, bidding conroy follow, started to return to his comrades at the ravine. but indian diplomacy was unsatisfied. the sioux had found "big nose" to be one of the soldiers in the field. he, at least, was of the hated troop that fought and chased burning star and killed chaska. the trail told them there were nearly a dozen in the party, all on shod horses, with two in lead-spare mounts or pack-horses, doubtless--so they had extra rations and had come far; but why were they going this way, so far west of the usual road to the big horn posts? why were they so few in number? where were the rest? why were they hiding here in the ravine, instead of marching? answer to this last question was easy enough. it was to keep out of sight of indian eyes and needed no excuse. there was something behind this mysterious presence of ten or twelve soldiers in the southern foothills, and machpealota would expect of his scouts full information, hence the instant movement on the part of one of the two braves to follow. impressively, bruce turned again and waved him back. "go, get buffalo tongue," said he, "or no trade. keep away from our tepees," and he drew with his spurred boot-heel a jagged line across the turf. "your side," said he, indicating the slope to the southeast of the line. "this--ours. that's all!" and this time the indian knew he must come no nearer. "i've got 'em talking trade, lieutenant," reported bruce, the instant he reached dean's side. "we don't need the tongues, but we've got more coffee and sugar than we are apt to want, and at least we can keep them interested until dark, then we can slip away. of course, they've sent word to their main body that we're over here, but i believe they can't come in force before night." "they knew you, sergeant, and they know it is probably our troop," said he. "there must be only a small party near us. make your trade, but while you're doing it we'll saddle. i mean to get out of this and into the thick of the timber before they can surround us. stand 'em off, now, while we get ready." promises must be kept when made to an indian, even if they are otherwise sometimes broken. in ten minutes, with coffee, sugar and hardtack in their hands, the sergeant and his comrades were back at the front. one brave was still there, the other had vanished. five minutes, neither party saying a word, the troopers waited; then bruce turned to conroy. "i knew they had nothing to trade. take this sack with you and fall back. tell our fellows to keep me well covered till i follow." the instant the soldier started with the sack swung over his shoulder, the indian, who had been squatted on the turf, sprang up and began rapid expostulation in fluent ogallalla. "it's no use, young man," interposed bruce. "your chum there has no buffalo tongues, and he knew it. here's some hardtack for you," and he spread one liberally with sugar and handed it to the ever-receptive paw, outstretched to grasp it. a glance over the shoulder showed that conroy was nearly at the edge. then, quietly, bruce, too, began to retire. he had not got ten paces, still facing his unwelcome visitor, when the indian gave a shrill, sudden cry and tossed up his hands. not a second too soon bruce turned and darted for cover. the indian flung himself flat on the turf and rolled away into a depression where he could find partial shelter from bullets from the ravine, whence he evidently looked for them, and out from behind the knoll, bridles held high, "quirts" lashing at their ponies' flanks, darted half a dozen painted savages, tearing down upon the spot at the top speed of their agile mounts. only two men remained on watch at the moment, dean and one trooper. most of the others, already in saddle, were filing away up the game trail that threaded the windings of the ravine, the two lead horses with them, while a few yards behind the young officer and his comrade, halfway down the reverse slope, two others, afoot, handled the reins of their own horses and those of the lieutenant and men still held at the edge. it was an exciting moment. bruce had only a hundred yards to run before he could get under cover, and there was no chance of their hitting him at that range, yet a puff of smoke rose from the knoll, and a bullet, nearly spent, came tumbling and singing up the turf, and the dashing warriors, yelling wildly, applauded the shot. bruce took matters coolly. leaping behind the shelter of the ledge, he reached for his carbine, and in a moment more, as the pursuing indians came lashing within long range, four seasoned cavalry carbines, each with a keen eye at the sight and a steady finger at the trip, were leveled on the coming foe. dean's young heart beat hard, it must be owned, for hitherto the indians had been fighting in retreat or on the defensive, while now they came as though confident of success; but there was soldier exultation and something like savage joy mingling with the thrill of excitement. "there's more behind those beggars, sir," growled conroy, a veteran at indian work, "but they'll sheer off when they get within three hundred yards." on they came, shields and lances dangling, ponies on the keen jump, feathers and pennons streaming on the wind. but, just as conroy said, no sooner was bruce safely under cover and they felt themselves drawing within dangerous range than, fan-like, they opened out to right and left, and, yelling still like fiends, veered in wide circle from their line of attack, and ducking over their ponies' shoulders, clinging with one leg to the upright part of the cantle, they seemed to invite the fire of their white foe--and got it. a daring fellow in the lead came streaking slantwise across the front, as though aiming to pick up the comrade lurking in the dip of the prairie-like slope, and conroy's carbine was the first to bark, followed almost instantly by dean's. the scurrying pony threw up his wall-eyed head and lashed with his feathered tail, evidently hit, but not checked, for under the whip he rushed gamely on until another bullet, whistling within a foot of his neck, warned the red rider that he was far too close for safety, for with halting gait the pony turned and labored off the field, and presently was seen to be staggering. "score one for our side," laughed the irishman, in glee. "now's your time, sergeant." but bruce, reloading, was gazing sternly at the distant knoll. the other warriors, riding right and left, were now chasing crosswise over the billowy slopes, keeping up a fire of taunt and chaff and shrill war-cries, but never again venturing within three hundred yards--never wasting a shot. "i thought so," suddenly cried the sergeant. "they're signaling from the knoll. they never would have attacked with so few, unless there were dozens more within sight. now's our time, lieutenant. we can mount and ride like hell to the timber--i beg your pardon, sir," he broke off suddenly. "i didn't mean to say what the lieutenant should do." "no apologies," laughed dean, his eyes snapping with the vim of the fight. "glad you see the truth of what i said. come on. mount quickly, men." two minutes more and the entire party of blue-coats were spurring swiftly northward up the winding gorge, the pack-horses lumbering alongside. eagerly dean and bruce in the lead looked right and left for a game trail leading up the slope, for well they knew that the moment their reinforcements came the warriors would dash into the ravine and, finding their antagonists fled, would pursue along the banks. it would never do to be caught in such a trap. a gallop of a quarter of a mile and, off to the right, a branch ravine opened out to higher ground, and into this the leaders dove and, checking speed, rode at the trot until the ascent grew steep. five minutes more and they were well up toward the head of the gulch and presently found themselves nearly on a level with the hillsides about them. here, too, were scattered pine-trees and a few scrub-oak. the timber, then, was close at hand. signaling halt to the climbing column, dean and bruce, springing from saddle, scrambled up the bank to their right and peered cautiously back down over the tumbling waves of the foothills, and what they saw was enough to blanch the cheek of even veteran indian fighters. far over to the east, beyond an intervening ridge and under the dun cloud of dust, the earth was black for miles with herds of running buffalo. far down to the southeast, here, there and everywhere over the land, the slopes were dotted with little knots of indian braves--they could be nothing else--all riding like mad, coming straight toward them. machpealota probably had launched his whole force on the trail of the luckless troopers. chapter xix. that night there was rejoicing at the new stockade. for over a week not a courier had managed to slip through in either direction. alarmed for the safety of the little garrison, the commanding officer of the post away up at the gorge of the big horn river had sent two troops of cavalry to scout the slopes of the mountains and look into the state of affairs at warrior gap. they found countless fresh pony tracks all along the foothills east of the greasy grass and in the valleys of the many forks of the deje agie--the crow name for tongue river--but not an indian did they see. they marched in among the welcoming officers and men at the bustling post to find themselves hailed as heroes. "we've been cut off from the world for at least ten days," said the commandant. "our couriers have been killed, captured or driven back. even our half-breed scouts refuse to make further trial. they say red cloud's people cover the land in every direction. our woodchoppers only work under heavy guard. the contractors, freighters and workmen threaten to strike unless they get their money. the sutler refuses them further credit. the quartermaster has paid out every cent and says his requisition for ten thousand dollars was ordered filled, and the money ought to have been here a week ago. all will have to stop if the money doesn't come. we're safe enough. the sioux don't dare come within range of our breech-loaders. but we can't finish the barracks in time for winter at this rate." a stout-hearted soldier was the commanding officer at warrior gap. he had with him now four strong companies of infantry and a troop of horse. he had, he said, but one anxiety, so far as holding the fort was concerned--some few of the officers and quite a number of the soldiers, as has been told, were burdened with their wives and children. if these could only be moved under strong guard to frayne on the platte, he could snap his fingers in the face of red cloud and his whole gang until they too got breech-loaders. "it's only a question of time!" said he. "sooner or later the interior department will be fool enough to arm the redskins all over the land with magazine rifles, and then there will be lively work for the war office. any day," said he, further, "we may expect the coming of a whole regiment from the platte posts, and then mr. lo will have to light out. meantime, if we hadn't this trouble about the workmen, and could get rid of the women and children, we'd be all right." so back to the big horn rode the squadron to report all safe at warrior gap, barring the blockade, and almost on the same date out there started from laramie, on the long march up the platte and over across the sage-covered deserts, a strong force of foot and dragoons; and up from the sweetwater, far to the southwest, came this venturesome little party of ten, bringing the much-demanded money, and all the while, with his far-riding, far-seeing scouts in every direction, machpealota, perched in the mountains back of the building post, warily watched the dispositions and daily work, and laid his plans accordingly. not a warrior was permitted to show himself near the stockade, but in a sleepless cordon, five miles out, they surrounded the gap. not a messenger had managed to elude their vigilance by day, not one had succeeded in slipping into the little camp by night. yet, with every succeeding morn the choppers and fatigue parties pushed farther out from the stockade, in growing sense of security, and the indians let them come. full a week before the laramie column could possibly reach the mountains, however, red cloud was warned of their coming, their numbers, and composition--so many horse soldiers, so many "heap walks." unmolested, the squadron from fort c. f. smith, the big horn river post, was permitted to retrace its steps. in fancied safety, born of confidence in that wonderful new breech-loader, the little command at the gap was lulled to indifference to their surroundings. then, sending large numbers of his young men to round up the buffalo toward the platte, but keeping still his stern and vengeful eye upon the prey almost at his feet, the red chief made his final and fatal plans. * * * * * there came a cloudless morning when the cavalry troop escorted a young officer up the rocky heights to the west, finding everywhere indications of recent indian occupancy, but not a redskin barred their way. without opposition of any kind, without so much as a glimpse of the foe, were they permitted to climb to signal rock, and from that point, with powerful glasses, the officers swept the glorious range of foothills, the deep valley of the tongue, the banks of the piney and the crazy woman, the far-spreading upland prairie rolling away like some heaving ocean suddenly turned to earth, east and southeast to the dim horizon, and there they saw, or thought they saw, full explanation of their recent freedom from alarm of any kind. there to the south, full thirty miles away, the land was overlaid by a dull, heavy, dun-colored cloud, and traversed by black streaks or blotches that were recognized at once as running buffalo. red cloud and his braves then were drawn away in search of other game, and, light of heart and foot, the troopers trotted back to the waiting stockade, to meet there late that evening, as the weird tattoo of the drums and fifes was echoing back from the rocky heights, the first messenger through in nearly fifteen days-a half-breed sioux from the distant posts along the platte, bearing a written message from the commanding officer at frayne, which the veteran commandant at warrior gap read with infinite comfort: "seven companies of infantry and three more troops of cavalry are on the way and should reach you by saturday week. the general seems thoroughly alive to the situation, and we, too, are hoping for orders to move out and help you give that infernal old scoundrel the thrashing he deserves. all has been quiet hereabouts since that one party made its dash on hal folsom's ranch. of course you know the story of lizette, and of course red cloud must have known that burning star was head devil in that enterprise, though chaska was the victim. i take much comfort in the fact that it was i who sent young dean and his troop round by way of the laramie. folsom and his people would have been murdered to a man if i hadn't, and yet i hear that absurd old ass at emory put dean in arrest for not coming directly home. pecksniff should have been retired ten years ago--for imbecility. "we had a tremendous storm in the mountains to the south two days ago, and a courier has just galloped out from emory, inquiring for news of dean. it seems he was sent with a big sum in currency for your quartermaster, and ordered to slip through by way of the sweetwater, as red cloud was known to be covering the direct road. somehow it leaked out before he started, and a gang of desperadoes gathered to jump him at cañon springs. the storm jumped them, for two of their dead and a dozen horses were rolled out on the flats. dean must have got through all right, for bat saw their trail fifteen miles above us. of course, he'll have to make night marches; but, unless red cloud gets wind of his coming and corrals him, he should reach you almost as soon as this. michel, the bearer, has your dispatches and orders. retained copies are here. good luck, old man, and may we meet within the fortnight and wind up red cloud once and for all time." this was all, but more than enough. riding night and day in wide détour, michel had made his way to the lately beleaguered spot, and what he brought was joyous news, indeed. within the coming week the post would have no more to fear. within a day or two the contractors, then, would have their money, and that would tap the sutler's stores and joy would reign supreme. enviously the soldiers eyed the artisans. not for weeks could their paymaster be looked for, while the funds for the civilians might reach them on the morrow, provided red cloud did not interfere. he couldn't and wouldn't, said the commander, because he and his braves were all off to the southeast, hunting buffalo. he could and might, said michel that night at ten o'clock, after taps had sent the garrison to bed, for by the time he left frayne there were other riders up from gate city and all that garrison had learned that lieutenant dean was taking something like fifty thousand dollars in greenbacks up to the gap, with only ten men to guard it, and major burleigh was wild with anxiety lest he shouldn't get through, and had been nearly crazy since he heard of dean's narrow escape at cañon springs. the officer of the day who heard this story took it, with the teller, to the post commander, and that veteran sat up late and cross-questioned long. michel's english might be broken, but not his statement. the last arrival at frayne before he left was one of major burleigh's own men from gate city. he said the general and his staff were expected at emory the next day, investigating matters, for old stevens had got stampeded because his sergeant-major was assaulted and old mr. folsom knocked out and a drunken captain by the name of newhall had been making trouble, and it had all told on major burleigh, who had taken to his bed with nervous prostration. so, while the garrison went to rest happy, the commanding officer waked long, and finally slept soundly and might have slept late, but that just at dawn, full half an hour before the time for reveille, there came a sharp knocking at the door of his log-hut, and the imperative voice of the officer of the day. "colonel! colonel, i say! there's sharp firing out here in the hills to the south!" the peaks to the west were just tinging with purple and red, reflected from the eastward sky, and a faint light was beginning to steal down into the deep valley in which the cantonment lay sleeping, when the veteran commander came hurrying out, half-dressed, and hied him, with his attendant officer, to the southern angle of the stockade. there on the narrow ledge or platform built under the sharp tops of the upright logs, were grouped the silent, grave-faced guard, a dozen men intently listening. thither presently came running others of the officers or men, suddenly awakened by sense of something unusual going on. far away among the wooded heights to the south, echoing from the rocky palisades to the west, could be heard the pop, pop of distant musketry, punctuated sometimes with louder bang as of large caliber rifles closer at hand. little time was there in which to hazard opinion as to the cause. one or two men, faint-hearted at the thought of the peril of indian battle and hopeful of influencing the judgment of their superiors, began the murmur of "big hunt," "buffalo drive," etc., glancing furtively at the colonel the while as though to observe the effect. but an imperative "silence, you idiots!" from the officer of the day put sudden end to their conjectures. only a moment did the commander listen. then, quick and startling, came the order, "sound to arms!" and within the minute the stirring peal of the cavalry trumpet was answered by the hoarse thunder of the snare-drum, beating the long roll. out from their "dog tents" and half-finished log huts came the bewildered men. often as the alarm had sounded on the frontier there was a thrill and ring about it this time that told of action close at hand. out from the little huts, hurrying into their frock coats and belting on their swords as they glared about them for the cause of the uproar, came the officers, old and young, most of them veterans of many hard-fought fields of the war days--one or two, only, youngsters fresh from the point. at many a doorway and unglazed window appeared the pallid faces of women and children, some of them weeping in mingled fright and distress. in front of the log guardhouse the sergeant quickly formed the two reliefs not on post. on their designated parades the companies rapidly fell in, while stern-voiced non-commissioned officers rebuked the laggards and aided them into their belts, and each first sergeant took rapid note of his men. no need to call the roll, a skulker would have been detected and kicked into the ranks at the instant. over under the rough board shelter of the quartermaster's employees the workmen came tumbling out in shirt sleeves, many of them running to the nearest officer and begging for a gun and a place in the fight, for now the firing was loud and lively. down by the swift-flowing stream the tethered horses of the cavalry plunged and neighed in excitement, and the mules in the quartermaster's corral set up their irrepressible bray. for five minutes there was clamor, but no confusion. then disciplined silence reigned again, all but the nearing volleying at the south. presently, at rapid trot the cavalry, some fifty strong, came clattering up the stony trail from the stream, and with carbines advanced disappeared through the main gateway in a cloud of dust. two companies were told off to man the loopholes of the stockade. two others under the command of a senior captain faced by the right flank, and in double-quick time danced away in the wake of the cavalry. eagerly the watchers climbed the wooden walls or to the tower of the half-finished guardhouse, and, as the red light strengthened in the east and the mountain sides became revealed, studied with their glasses or with straining eyes the southward vista through the hills. they saw the troop form line to the front at the gallop as it swept out over the open ground four hundred yards away, saw its flankers scurry to the nearest shoulder of bluff, saw their excited signals and gesticulations, and presently a sheaf of skirmishers shot forward from the advancing line and breasted the low ridge eight hundred yards out from the fort, and then there came floating back the sound of ringing, tumultuous cheer as the skirmishers reached the crest and darted headlong at some unseen object beyond, and after them went the reserve, cheering too. and now the sound of firing became fierce and incessant, and messengers came galloping back to the commander of the steadily advancing infantry, and they, too, were seen to throw forward heavy skirmish lines and then resume the march. and then, down over the ridge came a little knot of horsemen, made up of three men riding close together, the outer ones supporting between them the comrade in the center. before they were within four hundred yards the young adjutant, gazing through his glasses at the colonel's side, exclaimed: "it's dean--dead or wounded!" and one of the surgeons rushed forward to meet the party. "he's weak, sir, almost gone from loss of blood," exclaimed trooper conroy, himself bleeding from a gash along the cheek. a faint smile drifted over the young fellow's pallid face, as the adjutant, too, galloped up. a feeble hand indicated the bulging saddle pocket. a faint voice faltered, "there's ten thousand dollars in that packet. we had to fight our way through," and then the brave blue eyes closed and strong arms lifted the almost lifeless form from the saddle as marshall swooned away. chapter xx. a day had dawned on the big horn never to be forgotten by those who watched the conflict from the stockade, never to be recalled by those who went forth to fight. broad daylight had come and the sun was peeping over the far horizon as strong arms bore the unconscious officer within the post, and the commander eagerly questioned the men who came with him. their story was quickly told. they had fled before overpowering numbers of the sioux the night before, had made their way through the timber in the darkness and come ahead all night, groping their way from ridge to ridge until at the peep of day they found themselves in sight of familiar landmarks, and could see the gleam of the waters of the fork dancing away under the dawn. and then, as they essayed to ride on they found the indians all around them. whichever way they turned the foe appeared, but only in scattered parties and small numbers. not once did more than half a dozen appear in sight, and then confident of speedy succor from the fort, they had decided to make a dash for it, and so rode boldly out into the open. but now a score of warriors popped up and barred the way, while others far out at flank or rear kept up long range fire. one man was shot through the body and fainted and had to be borne along. then the lieutenant was shot in the leg, but no one knew it until they saw his boot was running over with blood, and he was growing ghastly white, even though he kept encouraging and directing. but when at last the cavalry met them and brushed the indians away from the front, captain drum, who rode at their head, ordered mr. dean taken right into the post while he dashed on to punish the sioux, "and he is giving them hell, too," said the excited trooper, "for there couldn't have been more than a hundred indians all told." ah, not in sight, perhaps, poor lads!--not in sight of horse, foot or fort; for if there were only a hundred, how came it that the fire grew fiercer still, and that presently every musket in the infantry skirmish line, too, was blazing on the foe. by this time cavalry and infantry both had disappeared over the curtaining ridge, and the colonel's face grew grave and haggard as he listened. three-fifths of his little garrison were out there battling against unknown numbers. they had gone to rescue the detachment and bring it safely in. that rescue was accomplished. the precious package for which so much had been risked was here--but what detained the command? why did they not return? beyond doubt far more indians were out there now than when first the firing began. "gallop out, mr. adjutant, and tell the major to withdraw his line and fall back on the stockade," was the order--and with a lump in his throat the young officer mounted again and started. he was a pet in the garrison, only in his second year of commission. they saw him gallop through the gate, saw him ride gallantly straight for the curtaining ridge beyond which the smoke was rising heavily now, saw him breasting the slope, his orderly following, saw him almost reach it, and then suddenly the prairie seemed to jet fire. the foremost horse reared, plunged, and went rolling over and over. they saw--plainly saw through their glasses, and a shriek of agony and horror went up from among the women at the sight--half a dozen painted savages spring out from behind the ledge, some on pony back, some afoot, and bear down on the stricken form of the slender young rider now feebly striving to rise from the turf; saw the empty hand outstretched, imploring mercy; saw jabbing lances and brandished war-clubs pinning the helpless boy to earth and beating in the bared, defenseless head; saw the orderly dragged from under his struggling horse and butchered by his leader's side; saw the bloody knives at work tearing away the hot red scalps, then ripping off the blood-soaked clothing, and, to the music of savage shouts of glee and triumph, hacking, hewing, mutilating the poor remains, reckless of the bullets that came buzzing along the turf from the score of springfields turned loose at the instant among the loopholes of the stockade. it was eight hundred yards away in the dazzling light of the rising sun. old springfields did not carry as do the modern arms. soldiers of those days were not taught accurate shooting as they are now. it was too far for anything but chance, and all within a minute or two the direful tragedy was over, and the red warriors had darted back behind the ridge from which they came. "my god! sir," gasped the officer who stood at the side of the awe-stricken post commander, "i believe it's red cloud's entire band, and they've got our poor boys surrounded! can't we send help?" "send help! merciful heaven, man, who's to help us? who's to protect these poor women and children if we go? i have but two companies left. it's what those fiends are hoping--have been planning--that i'll send out my last man to the aid of those already gone, and then they'll dart in on the fort, and what will become of these?" great drops of sweat were pouring down the colonel's face as he turned and pointed to the huts where now, clinging to one another in terror, many poor wives and children were gathered, and the air was filled with the sobbing of the little ones. up from the stockade came two young officers, their faces set and rigid, their eyes blazing. "in god's name, colonel," cried the foremost, "let me take my men and clear that ridge so that our people can get back. one charge will do it, sir." but solemnly the commander uplifted his hand. "listen," said he, "the battle is receding. they are driving our poor fellows southward, away from us. they are massed between them and us. it would only be playing into their hands, my boy. it's too late to help. our duty now is here." "but good god, sir! i can't stay without raising a hand to help. i beg--i implore!" "go back to your post at once, sir. you may be needed any minute. look there! now!" and as he spoke the colonel pointed to the southeast. over the scene beyond the divide to the south hung the bank of pale-blue smoke. out on the slope lay the ghastly remains of the young adjutant and his faithful comrade who, not ten minutes before, had galloped forth in obedience to their orders and met their soldier fate. out to the southeast the ridge fell gradually away into the general level of the rolling prairie, and there, full a thousand yards distant, there suddenly darted into view three horsemen, troopers evidently, spurring madly for home. "they've cut their way through! thank god!" almost screamed the spectators at the parapet. but their exultation died an instant later. over the ridge, in swift pursuit came a dozen painted, feathered braves, their ponies racing at lightning speed, their arrows and bullets whizzing along the line of flight. the horse of the foremost trooper was staggering, and suddenly went plunging headlong, sending his rider sprawling far out on the turf. he was up in a second, dire peril nerving him to desperate effort. his comrades veered at his cry for help and glanced back over their shoulders. one, unnerved at sight of the dashing foemen in pursuit, clapped spurs again, and bending low, rode madly on. the other, gallant fellow! reined about in wide, sweeping circle, and turned back to meet his running comrade. they saw him bend to lend a helping hand, saw him bend still lower as three of the indians leaped from their ponies and, kneeling, loosed their rifles all at once; saw him topple out of saddle, and his stricken horse, with flapping rein, trot aimlessly about a moment before he, too, went floundering in his tracks; saw the other soldier turn to face his fate by his dying comrade's side, fighting to the last, overwhelmed and borne down by the rush of red warriors. strong men turned aside in agony, unable to look on and see the rest--the brutal, pitiless clubbing and stabbing, the fearful hacking of lance and knife--but others still, in the fascination of horror, gazed helplessly through the smoke drifting upward from the blazing loopholes, and once a feeble cheer broke forth as one shot took effect and a yelling indian stretched out dead upon the sward. then for a brief moment all eyes centered on the sole survivor who came sweeping down the slope, straight for the stockade. almost it seemed as though he might yet escape, despite the fact that his horse, too, was lurching and stumbling and his pursuers were gaining rapidly, defiant of the fire of the little fort. reckless of order and discipline, a dozen soldiers nearest the gate rushed out upon the open bench, shouting encouragement and sending long range, chance shots. but with every stride the fleeing steed grew weaker, stumbled painfully and slackened speed, and soon they saw him slowing down despite the frantic jabbing of the spurs, and with drooped head and bleeding nostrils giving up the fight. and then, at sound of the triumphant yells and jeers of his pursuers, the poor wretch in saddle threw one fearful glance behind him, one despairing look toward the comrades and the refuge still a quarter of a mile away, and with shaking hand he turned the brown revolver on his own temple and pulled trigger, and then went tumbling earthward, a corpse. there at least was one scalp the sioux could covet in vain, for with shouts of vengeance, the little squad of infantry, deaf to all orders or the clamor of the bugle recall, dashed out over the level bench, firing furiously as they ran, and, whether from the superstitious awe with which the indians view the suicide, or the dread of close combat with the gallant band of blue-coats, the mounted warriors turned and scurried away across the prairie, and were presently out of range beyond the ridge again. then, and not till they had reached and lifted and borne the lifeless form of the trooper, did the little party condescend to answer the repeated summons from the fort. then at last they slowly returned, unrebuked, for no man had the heart to chide their daring. only once more was there further sight of the one-sided battle. half a mile or more beyond the bare divide there rose against the southern sky a bold, oblong height or butte, studded with bowlders and stunted pine, and watchers at the fort became aware as the sun climbed higher that the smoke cloud, thinning gradually but perceptibly, was slowly drifting thither. the fire, too, grew faint and scattering. the war-whoops rang and re-echoed among the rocks, but all sound of cheering had long since died away. at last, an hour after the fury of the fight began, the colonel, gazing in speechless grief, through his field-glass, muttered to the officer at his side: "some of them are still left. they are fighting for their lives along that butte." only a few, though. one by one the dark dots among the bowlders ceased to stir and move about. little by little the fire slackened, and all but occasional scattered shots died utterly away. then other forms, feathered and bedizened, were seen rushing in numbers up the distant hillside, and that meant all was over, and the brutal knives were busily at work. little by little all sound of conflict, all sight of combatants, disappeared entirely, and the unclouded sunshine streamed down upon a scene on which the silence of death indeed had fallen. when at last, late that afternoon, the watchers reported a vast body of indians drifting away eastward toward the distant powder river, and venturesome scouts stole out to reconnoiter, backed by skirmish lines from the stricken post, they found the grassy slopes beyond that curtaining ridge one broad field of death, strewn with the stripped and hacked and mangled forms of those who had so gallantly dashed forth to the aid of comrade soldiery at the break of day, so torn and mutilated and disfigured that only a limited few were ever identified. officers and men, one after another, had died in their tracks, victims of red cloud and the ogallalla sioux. and all for what? late that night the quartermaster in wild agitation sought his colonel's door, a package in his hands. "for god's sake, sir, look at this!" he cried. the cords had just been cut, the seals just broken, the stout paper carefully opened and the contents of the precious packet exposed to view. it held no money at all, nothing but layer on layer of waste and worthless paper! chapter xxi. a week went by at fort emory, and not a word came back from dean. the furious storm that swept the hills and swelled the rivers was the talk of every army post within two hundred miles, while in the gambling halls and saloons of laramie, cheyenne and gate city men spoke of it in low tones and with bated breath. if ever the bolts of heaven were launched to defeat a foul crime it was right there at cañon springs, for the story was all over wyoming by this time how the worst gang of cutthroats that ever infested the wide west had galloped in strong force to that wild, sequestered nook to murder dean and his whole party of the hated "blue bellies," if need be, but at all hazards to get the precious package in his charge. fifty thousand dollars in government greenbacks it contained, if hank birdsall, their chosen leader, could be believed, and hitherto he had never led them astray. he swore that he had the "straight tip," and that every man who took honest part in the fight, that was sure to ensue, should have his square one thousand dollars. thirty to ten, surrounding the soldiers along the bluffs on every side, they counted on easy victory. but the warning thunder had been enough for the young troop leader, and prompted him to break camp and get out of the gorge. they were starting when birdsall's scouts peered over the bank and the outlaw ordered instant pursuit, just in time to meet the fury of the flood and to see some of his fellows drowned like rats in a sewer. but who betrayed the secret? what officer or government employé revealed the fact that dean was going with so much treasure?--and what could have been his object? birdsall had taken to the mountains and was beyond pursuit. "shorty," one of his men, rescued from drowning by the mail carrier and escort coming down from frayne, confessed the plot and the general was now at emory investigating. major burleigh had taken to his bed. captain newhall was reported gone to denver. old john folsom lay with bandaged head and blinded eyes in a darkened room, assiduously nursed by pappoose and jessie, who in turn were devotedly attended by mrs. fletcher. possessed of some strange nervous excitement, this energetic woman was tireless in her effort to be of use. minus ten of their very best, "c" troop still camped at emory, the general holding it for possible escort duty, and, to his huge delight, young loomis was assigned to command it until dean should return. there came a day when the news arrived from frayne that the laramie column had crossed the platte and marched on for the big horn, and then john folsom began to mend and was allowed to sit up, and told the doctor he had need to see major burleigh without delay, but burleigh could not leave his bed, said the physician in attendance--a very different practitioner from folsom's--and the old man began to fret and fume, and asked for writing materials. he wrote burleigh a note, and the doctor forbade his patient's reading anything. major burleigh, said he, was a very sick man, and in a wretchedly nervous condition. serious consequences were feared unless utter quiet could be assured. then folsom was pronounced well enough to be taken out for a drive, and he and pappoose had the back seat together, while jessie, with harry loomis to drive, sat in front, and jess was shy and happy, for loomis had plainly lost his heart to his comrade's pretty sister. marshall had now been gone nine days and could soon be expected home, said everybody, for with a big force going up there the indians would scatter and "the boys" would have no trouble coming back. and so this lovely summer afternoon every one seemed bright and joyous at the fort, listening to the band and wondering, some of the party at least, how much longer it would be before they could hope to hear from the absent, when there arose sudden sounds of suppressed commotion in the camp of "c" troop. a courier was coming like mad on the road from frayne--a courier whose panting horse reined up a minute, with heaving flanks, in the midst of the thronging men, and all the troop turned white and still at the news the rider briefly told:--three companies at warrior gap were massacred by the sioux, one hundred and seventy men in all, including sergeant bruce and all "c" troop's men but conroy and garret, who had cut their way through with lieutenant dean and were safe inside the stockade, though painfully wounded. this appalling story the girls heard with faces blanched with horror. passionate weeping came to jessie's relief, but pappoose shed never a tear. the courier's dispatches were taken in to the colonel, and folsom, trembling with mingled weakness and excitement, followed. it was an impressive scene as the old soldier read the sad details to the rapidly growing group of weeping women, for that was emory's garrison now, while the official reports were hurried on to catch the general on his way to cheyenne. some one warned the band leader, and the musicians marched away to quarters. some one bore the news to town where the flags over the hotel and the one newspaper office were at once lowered to half staff, although that at emory, true to official etiquette and tradition, remained until further orders at the peak, despite the fact that two of the annihilated companies were from that very post. some one bore the news to burleigh's quarters at the depot, and, despite assertions that the major could see no one and must not be agitated or disturbed, disturbed and agitated he was beyond per-adventure. excitedly the sick man sprang from his bed at the tidings of the massacre and began penning a letter. then he summoned a young clerk from his office and told him he had determined to get up at once, as now every energy of the government would doubtless be put forth to bring the sioux to terms. it was the young clerk who a few weeks back had remarked to a fellow employé how "rattled" the old man was getting. the major's doctor was not about. the major began dictating letters to various officials as he rapidly dressed, and what happened can best be told in the clerk's own words: "for a man too sick to see any one two hours before," said he, "the major had wonderful recuperative powers, but they didn't last. he was in the midst of a letter to the chief quartermaster and had got as far as to say, 'the deplorable and tragic fate of lieutenant dean points, of course, to the loss of the large sum intrusted to him,' when i looked up and said, 'why, lieutenant dean ain't dead, major; he got in all right,' and he stared at me a minute as if i had stabbed him. his face turned yellow-white and down he went like a log--had a fit i s'pose. then i ran for help, and then the doctor came and hustled everybody out." but not till late that night did these details reach "old pecksniff" at the post. a solemn time was that veteran having, for many of the women were almost in hysterics and all were in deep distress. two of their number, wives of officers, were widowed by the catastrophe, and one lay senseless for hours. it was almost dark when mr. folsom and the girls drove homeward, and his face was lined and haggard. pappoose nestled fondly, silently at his side, holding his hand and closely scanning his features, as though striving to read his thoughts. jessie, comforted now by the knowledge that marshall was rapidly recovering, and the words of praise bestowed upon him in the colonel's letters, was nevertheless in deep anxiety as to the future. the assurance that the sioux, even in their overwhelming numbers, would not attack a stockade, was not sufficient. marshall would be on duty again within a very few days, the colonel said. his wounds would heal within the week, and it was only loss of so much blood that had prostrated him. within a few days, then, her loved brother would be in saddle and in the field against the indians. who could assure her they would not have another pitched battle? who could say that the fate that befell the garrison at warrior gap might not await the troop when next it rode away? and poor jess had other anxieties, too, by this time. loomis was burning with eagerness for orders to lead it instantly to join the field column, and importuned colonel stevens, even in the midst of all the grief and shock of the early evening. almost angrily the veteran colonel bade him attend to his assigned duties and not demand others. "c" troop should not with his advice and consent be sent north of the platte. "first thing you know, sir, after they've got all the troops up along the big horn you'll see the sioux in force this side of the river, murdering right and left, and not a company to oppose them. no, sir, more than enough of that troop have already been sacrificed! the rest shall stay here." and well was it, for one and all, that "old pecksniff" held firm to his decision. it was one of his lucid intervals. late that evening, after ten o'clock, there came the sound of hoof-beats on the hard road and the crack of the long-lashed mule-whip, and the fort ambulance clattered up to folsom's gate, and the colonel himself, his adjutant by his side, came nervously up the gravel walk. folsom met them at his door. instinctively he felt that something new and startling was added to the catalogue of the day's disastrous tidings. pecksniff's face was eloquent of gravest concern, mingled with irrepressible excitement. "let me see you in private, quick," he said. "mr.--ah--mr. adjutant, will you kindly remain in the parlor," and, taking folsom by the elbow, pecksniff led impetuously into the library. the girls had gone aloft only a moment before, but, dreading news of further evil, pappoose came fluttering down. "go in and welcome the adjutant, dear," said folsom hurriedly. "the colonel and i have some matters to talk of." obediently she turned at once, and, glancing up the stairs, noted that mrs. fletcher's door must have been suddenly opened, for the light from her room was now streaming on the third-floor balusters. listening again! what could be the secret of that woman's intense watchfulness? in the parlor the young staff officer was pacing up and down, but his face lighted at sight of elinor. "do you know--is there anything new?--anything worse?" she quickly asked, as she gave her slim young hand. "not concerning our people," was the significant answer. "but i fear there's more excitement coming." barely waiting for elinor to withdraw, "pecksniff" had turned on folsom. "you know i opposed the sending of that party? you know it was all ordered on burleigh's urging and representations, do you not?" "yes, i heard so," said folsom. "what then?" "you know he planned the whole business--sent 'em around by cañon springs and the sweetwater?" "yes, i heard that, too," said folsom, still wondering. "you know some one must have put that birdsall gang on the scent, and that burleigh has had alleged nerve prostration ever since, and has been too ill to see any one or to leave his bed." "yes, so we were told." "well, he's well enough to be up and away--god knows where, and here is the reason--just in from the north," and, trembling with excitement, pecksniff pointed to the closing paragraph of the letter in his hand: "cords, seals and wrapping were intact when handed to the quartermaster, but the contents were nothing but worthless paper. it must have been so when given to lieutenant dean." folsom's eyes were popping from his head. he sank into a chair, gazing up in consternation. "don't you see, man!" said pecksniff, "some one in the depot is short ten thousand dollars or so. some one hoped to cover this shortage in just this way--to send a little squad with a bogus package, and then turn loose the biggest gang of ruffians in the country. they would have got it but for the storm at cañon springs, and no one would have been the wiser. they couldn't have got it without a murderous fight. no one would ever dare confess his complicity in it. no statement of theirs that there wasn't a cent in the sack could ever be believed. some one's shortage would be covered and his reputation saved. the plot failed, and god's mercy was over dean's young head. he'd 'a been murdered or ruined if the plan worked--and now burleigh's gone!" chapter xxii. yes, burleigh was gone, and there was confusion at the depot. at six the doctor had come forth from his room, saying he was better, but must not be disturbed. at seven the major, carrying a satchel, had appeared at his office, where two clerks were smoking their pipes, innocent of all thought of their employer's coming. it was after hours. they had no business there at the time. smoking was prohibited in the office, yet it was the major who seemed most embarrassed at the unexpected meeting. it was the major who hastily withdrew. he was traced to the railway, and it was speedily found that he had sent word to the division superintendent that the general had telegraphed for him to join him at once at cheyenne, and a special engine and caboose would be needed. at a quarter past seven this had started full speed. it was eleven when the discovery was made. meantime folsom and stevens had consulted together. folsom had told of the large sum he had loaned burleigh and the conditions attached, and between them a dispatch, concisely setting forth their suspicions, was sent the general at cheyenne, with orders to "rush," as they were determined if possible to head off the fugitive at that point. back came the wire ten minutes before midnight that the general had left cheyenne for laramie by stage that evening, and must now be near the chugwater and far from telegraphic communication. then stevens wired the sheriff at cheyenne and the commanding officer of the new post of fort russell to stop burleigh at all hazards, and at two in the morning the answer came that the major had reached cheyenne about midnight and they would search everywhere for him. that was the last until long after the rising of another sun. events and excitements, alarms and rumors followed each other with startling rapidity during the day. in glaring headlines the local paper published the details of the massacre at the gap, lauding the valor and devotion of the soldiers, but heaping abuse upon the commander of the post, who, with other troops at his disposal, had looked on and lifted no hand to aid them. later, of course, it was proved that the veteran had foiled old red cloud's villainous plan to lure the whole garrison into the open country and there surround and slowly annihilate it, while then, or at their leisure later, his chosen ones should set fire to the unprotected stockade and bear off those of the women or children whose years did not commend them to the mercy of the hatchet. soldiers and thinking men soon saw the colonel was right and that the only mistake he had made was in allowing any of the garrison to go forth at all. but this verdict was not published, except long after as unimportant news and in some obscure corner. the laramie column, so the news ran, was hastening down the powder river to strike red cloud. the indians would be severely punished, etc., etc. but old folsom's face grew whiter yet as he read that such orders had been sent and that the general himself was now at laramie directing matters. "in god's name," urged he, "if you have any influence with the general, tell him not to send a foot column chasing horsemen anywhere, and above all not to follow down the powder. next thing you know red cloud and all his young men will have slipped around their flank and come galloping back to the platte, leaving the old men and women and worn-out ponies to make tracks for the 'heap walks' to follow." and stevens listened dumbly. influence he had never had. folsom might be right, but it was a matter in which he was powerless. when a depot quartermaster, said he, could dictate the policy that should govern the command of a colonel of the fighting force, there was no use in remonstrance. noon came and no news from the cheyenne sheriff. the commanding officer at russell wired that he, too, was stripped of his troops and had not even a cavalry courier to send after the general with the startling news that major burleigh had vanished with large sums, it was believed, in his possession. at one o'clock came tidings of the fugitive. he, together with two other men, had spent the late hours of the night at the lodgings of one of the party in cheyenne, and at dawn had driven away in a "rig" hired at a local stable, ostensibly to follow the general to laramie. they had kept the road northwestward on leaving town--were seen passing along the prairie beyond fort russell, but deputies, sworn in at once and sent in pursuit, came back to say the rig had never gone as far as lodge pole. at six p. m. came further tidings. lieutenant loring, engineer officer of the department, had reached cheyenne and was in consultation with the commanding officer at russell. the rig had been found at sloan's ranch, far up crow creek, where the party had taken horses and ridden westward into the black hills. in anticipation of a big reward, the sheriff had deputies out in pursuit. from such information as they could gather it was learned that the name of one of the parties gone with burleigh was newhall, who claimed to be a captain in the army, "out there looking after investments"--a captain who was too busy, however, to go and see the few fellows of his cloth at the new post and who was not known to them by sight at all. the engineer, mr. loring, was making minute inquiries about this fellow, for the description given him had excited not a little of his interest. and so the sun of the second day went down on gate city and emory, and everybody knew burleigh was gone. the wildest rumors were afloat, and while all fort emory was in mourning over the tragedy at warrior gap, everybody in town seemed more vividly concerned in burleigh and the cause of his sudden flight. as yet only certain army officers and mr. folsom knew of the startling discovery at the stockade--that the package was a bogus affair throughout. but all gate city knew burleigh had drawn large sums from the local bank, many citizens had heard that john folsom was several thousand dollars the poorer for his sudden going, and all interest was centered in the coming from chicago of an expert, summoned by wire, to open the huge office safe at the quartermaster's depot the keys had gone with burleigh. at the last moment, after loading up with all the cash his own private safe contained, for that was found open and practically empty in its corner of his sitting-room, and when he had evidently gone to the office to get the funds there stored, he was confounded by the sight of the two employés. he could have ordered them to leave and then helped himself, but conscience had made a coward of him, even more than nature. he saw accusers in every face, and fled. burleigh had lost his nerve. two days went by and excitement was at its height. all manner of evil report of burleigh was now afloat. the story of the bogus package had been noised abroad through later messengers and dispatches from the gap. lieutenant loring had come to fort emory under the instructions of the department commander, and what those instructions were no man could find out from the reticent young officer. if ever a youth seemed capable of hearing everything and telling nothing it was this scientist of a distinguished corps that frontiersmen knew too little of. what puzzled folsom and old pecksniff was the persistence with which he followed up his inquiries about captain newhall. he even sought an interview with pappoose and asked her to describe the rakish traveler who had so unfavorably impressed her. she was looking her loveliest that evening. jessie was radiant once more. a long letter had come from marshall--sad because of the fate that had befallen his companions, stern because of the evidence of the deep-laid plot that so nearly made him a victim, but modestly glad of the official commendation he had received, and rejoicing over the surgeon's promise that he would be well enough to make the march with a command ordered back to frayne. red cloud's people had scattered far and wide, said he. "god grant they may not turn back to the south." he was coming home. he would soon be there. the papers had told their readers this very morning that the general had plainly said his force was too small to risk further assault upon the sioux. alarmed at the result of its policy, the bureau had recommended immediate abandonment of warrior gap and the withdrawal of the troops from the big horn country. the war department, therefore, had to hold its hand. the indians had had by long, long odds the best of the fight, and perhaps would be content to let well enough alone. all this had tended to bring hope to the hearts of most of the girls, and loring's welcome was the more cordial because of this and because of his now known championship of marshall's cause. from being a fellow under the ban of suspicion and the cloud of official censure, marshall dean was blossoming out as a hero. it was late in the evening when folsom brought the young engineer from the hotel and found elinor and jessie in the music-room, with pecksniff's adjutant and loomis in devoted attendance. it was nearly eleven when the officers left--two returning to the fort, loring lingering for a word with folsom at the gate. the night was still and breathless. the stars gleamed brilliantly aloft, but the moon was young and had early gone to bed. a window in the third story softly opened, as the two men stopped for their brief conference--the one so young-looking, sturdy and alert, despite the frost of so many winters; the other so calm and judicial, despite his youth. "up to this afternoon at five no trace of them has been found," said loring. "day after to-morrow that safe-opener should reach us. if you have influence with colonel stevens you should urge him to have a guard at the quartermaster's depot, even if he has to strip the fort. the general cannot be reached by wire." "why?" asked folsom, looking up in alarm. "you don't suppose he'd come back to rob his own office?" "he is not the man to take a risk, but there are those with him not so careful, and the hand that sent birdsall's gang in chase of dean could send them here, with the safe-key. those few clerks and employés would be no match for them." "by heaven, i believe you're right!" cried folsom. "which way are you going now?" "back to the hotel by way of the depot," was the answer. "will you go?" "one moment. i do not travel about just now without a gun," said folsom, stepping within doors, and even the low sound of their voices died away and all was still as a desert. the old trader did not return at once. something detained him--miss folsom, probably, reasoned the engineer, as he stood there leaning on the gate. aloft a blind creaked audibly, and, gazing upward, loring saw a dark, shadowy shutter at the third-story window swing slowly in. there was no wind to move it. why should human hands be so stealthy? then a dim light shone through the slats, and the shade was raised, and, while calmly watching the performance, loring became aware of a dim, faint, far-away click of horse's hoofs at the gallop, coming from the north. "if that were from the eastward, now," thought he, "it might bring stirring news." but the sound died away after a moment, as though the rider had dived into sandy soil. just then folsom reappeared, "i had to explain to my daughter. she is most reluctant to have me go out at night just now." "naturally," said loring calmly. "and have you been way up to the third story? i suppose miss folsom has gone to her room." "the girls have, both of them--but not to the third story. that's mrs. fletcher's room." "ah, yes. the woman, i believe, who accidentally scared your horse and threw you?" "the very one!" he answered. "i'm blessed if i know what should have taken her out at that hour. she says she needed air and a walk, but why should she have chosen the back-gate and the alley as a way to air and sunshine?" "would you mind taking me through that way?" asked the engineer suddenly. "it's the short cut to the depot, i understand." "why, certainly. i hadn't thought of that," said folsom. "come right on." and so, while the hoof-beats up the road grew louder, the two turned quickly back to the rear of the big frame house. "that coming horse brings news," muttered loring to himself, as he turned the corner. "we can head him off, but i want to see this situation first." looking away southeastward from the porch of folsom's homestead, one could see in the daytime a vista of shingled roofs and open yards, a broad valley, with a corral and inclosures on the southern edge of the town, but not a tree. to-night only dim black shadows told where roof and chimney stood, and not a sign could they see of the depot. loring curiously gazed aloft at the rear and side windows of the third story. "they command quite a view, i suppose," said he, and even as he spoke the sash of the southeast room was softly raised, the blind swung slightly outward. that woman watching and listening again! and it was she whose sudden and startling appearance at the rear gate had led to folsom's throw so early the morning burleigh and his mysterious friend were found missing from their quarters just after dawn--the very morning dean, with his treasure package and little escort, rode forth from emory on that perilous mission--the very morning that birdsall and his murderous gang set forth from gate city in pursuit. and now those hoof-beats up the road were coming closer, and folsom, too, could hear and was listening, even while studying loring's face. suddenly a faint gleam shot across the darkness overhead. glancing quickly upward, both men, deep in shadow, saw that the eastern window on the southern side was lighted up. out in the alleyway, low yet clear, a whistle sounded--twice. then came cautious footsteps down the back stairs. the bolt of the rear door was carefully drawn. a woman's form, tall and shrouded in a long cloak, came swiftly forth and sped down the garden walk to that rear gate. "come on, quick!" murmured the engineer, and on tiptoe, wondering, the two men followed. they saw her halt at the barred gate. low, yet distinct she spoke a single name: "george!" and without, in the alley, a voice answered: "i'm here! open, quick!" "swear that you are alone!" "oh, stop that damned nonsense! of course i'm alone!" was the sullen reply, and at the sound of the voice loring seemed fairly to quiver. the gate was unbarred. a man's form, slender and shadowy, squeezed in and seemed peering cautiously about. "you got my note?" he began. "you know what's happened?" but a woman's muffled scream was the answer. with a spring like a cat loring threw himself on the intruder and bore him down. in an instant folsom had barred the gate, and the woman, moaning, fell upon her knees. "mercy! mercy!" she cried. "it is all my fault. i sent for him." "take your hands off, damn you, or you'll pay for this!" cried the undermost man. "i'm captain newhall, of the army!" "you're a thief!" answered loring, through his set teeth. "hand over the key of that safe!" the sound of hoof-beats at the front had suddenly ceased. there was a sputter and scurry in the alley behind. full half a dozen horses must have gone tearing away to the east. other lights were popping in the windows now. folsom's household was alarmed. attracted by the scream and the sound of scuffle, a man came hurrying toward them from the front. "halt! who are you?" challenged folsom, covering him with his revolver. "don't shoot. i'm ned lannion--just in from the ranch. have you heard anything of hal, sir?" "of hal?" gasped folsom, dropping his pistol in dismay. "in god's name, what's wrong?" "god only knows, sir. mrs. hal's nigh crazy. he's been gone two days." chapter xxiii. five days later the women and children from warrior gap, most of them bereaved, all of them unnerved by the experiences of that awful day, arrived at old fort frayne, escorted by a strong command of infantry and all that was left of the cavalry troop at the stockade. a sad procession it was as it slowly forded the platte and ascended the winding road to the post, where sorrowing, sympathetic army women met and ministered to them. with them, too, came such of the wounded as could be moved, and at the head of the little squad of horse rode lieutenant dean, whom the post commander and several officers greeted almost effusively. yet almost the first question was, "did you see any indians?" "not one," answered dean. "they seem to have drawn away from the big horn road entirely. why do you ask?" he added anxiously. "there were signal fires out at eagle butte last night, and i've just had a letter from old folsom at the ranch on the laramie. he begs us to send a guard at once, and i haven't a horseman. there's been the devil to pay at young folsom's place." dean's face went a shade paler. "what's happened?" he asked. "a dozen of his best horses run off by birdsall's gang, probably to replace those they lost in the flood, and hal himself was shot and left for dead in the hills. he'd have died but for an ogallalla girl and a couple of half-breeds who had a hunting lodge out near the peak. there are letters for you at the office." there were two--one from loomis, at emory; one from jessie, of all places in the world, at folsom's ranch. this he read first. "we got here late night before last, after such an exciting journey, marshall dear," said she, "and i can't begin to tell you all the strange things that have happened, for mr. folsom says the messenger must start for fort frayne in twenty minutes. that villain, major burleigh, who dared to speak ill of you, turned out to be as bad as i ever said he was. they haven't caught him yet, but they've got captain newhall. mr. folsom and mr. loring did that--caught him in the backyard of our house, down by the gate, and in some way mrs. fletcher induced him to come there, for he had the key of the safe at the quartermaster's depot, and was going to get the money major burleigh dared not take when he fled. i can't understand it at all, and pappoose doesn't like to talk about it. but mr. folsom was robbed of lots of money by major burleigh. mrs. fletcher is mixed up in it in such a queer way, i can't explain how. she was nearly crazy when we came away, and mr. folsom was so good and kind to her, left a nurse with her, and made her stay at the house, although she wanted to pack her things and go to the hotel or the jail, she didn't care which; but he wouldn't let her. "and right in the midst of it all ned lannion, who came with news before, galloped in to tell how halbert folsom had been missing two days and mrs. folsom was crazy with fear, so mr. folsom left lieutenant loring to attend to all the matters about the robbery and started at once for the ranch, and pappoose, of course, insisted on going with him, and i would not be left behind. and here we are. now i can see the hills where you had the fight and wore elinor's picture, and it was right out there among them that halbert was found. horse thieves had run off his best horses--the same gang of murderers that, they say, planned to trap you and that you outwitted. oh! marshall, was ever a girl so proud of her brother!--and they shot hal and he was found and taken care of by some indian people, tame ones, and one was a girl, lizette, who had fallen in love with him four years ago. wasn't it romantic? and she's gone again, but hal is safe here, although mrs. folsom is more than half-crazy, and now old mr. folsom is worried to death, and says we must start back for home to-morrow. it's seventy-five miles and we don't want to go at all--only i'm so eager to see you, and i heard--at least mr. loomis told me you'd be back any day, and he has your troop till you come, and he's so fond of you--oh, here's pappoose to say this must go at once." the colonel sat watching the young fellow as he read. "bad news, dean?" he queried. "every kind of news, sir. it's all a whirl. the devil seems to have broken loose in wyoming. let me skim through loomis' note. "dear dean: in case the letter sent yesterday passes you on the way, i add a line to say that if ever i said a mean thing about loring when we were in the corps, i take it back. i thought him a prig when we wore the gray. he rather 'held us under' anyhow, being a class ahead, you know, but the way he has panned out here and wiped up wyoming with the only men i ever knew that tried to wrong you is simply wonderful. he's nabbed three of the birdsall gang and is away now after burleigh. the news from folsom's ranch is more reassuring. hal was shot by horsethieves who were running off stock, and was found and taken care of by friendly indians, but mrs. hal had an awful scare and sent for the old man, who went, of course--both young ladies going with him. they were miles away before we knew it at the fort. i tried to pursuade old pecksniff that he ought to let me go with twenty troopers to guard the ranch and scout the laramie, and he threatened to put me in arrest. of all the double-dashed, pig-headed old idiots he's the worst. i don't want people at the ranch to be scared, but if the sioux only would make some demonstration this way that would give me a chance. i'd try to earn a little of the reputation that you're winning, old boy, and no man knows better how much you deserve it than "your friend and classmate, hank l." "p. s.--loring took ten of the troop into the black hills to beat up burleigh, but he said if they struck indian sign he meant to make for folsom's ranch. now, if we could only meet there!" the sun was well down at the west. the day's march had been long and tedious, as only cavalry marches are when long wagon trains have to be escorted. dean had not yet fully recovered strength, but anxiety lent him energy. "if mr. folsom says there is need of cavalry guard at the laramie, it is because he dreads an other indian visit, colonel. i have nine men in good shape. our horses are fresh, or will be after a few hours' rest. may i push on to-night?" and to the young soldier's surprise the elder placed a trembling hand upon his shoulder and looked him earnestly in the eyes. "dean, my boy, it's my belief you cannot start too soon. do you know who lizette is?" "i've heard the story," said marshall briefly. "she must have been hovering about there for some time." "yes, and now her people know it, and it will rekindle their hatred. the moment i heard of this i sent old bat to watch the crossing at la bonté. not an hour ago this came in by the hand of his boy," and the colonel held out a scrap of paper. it a rude pictograph, a rough sketch, map-like, of a winding river--another and smaller one separated from the first by a chain of mountains. the larger one was decorated by a flag-pole with stars and stripes at the top and a figure with musket and bayonet at the bottom. the smaller one by a little house, with smoke issuing from the chimney, and a woman beside it. above all, its head over the mountains pointing toward the house, its tail extending north of the bigger stream, was a comet--the "totem" or sign of the ogallalla lover of lizette. the story was told at a glance. burning star was already south of the platte and lurking in the mountains near folsom's ranch. that night, toward ten o'clock, an anxious council was held. halbert folsom, fevered by his severe wound, was lying half-unconscious on his bed, his unhappy wife wandering aimlessly about at times, wringing her hands and weeping, evidently unbalanced by the terrors that had beset her of late and the tidings of that awful indian revenge along the big horn. silent, helpful, almost commanding, elinor spent the hours sometimes at her brother's bedside, then at that of her sister-in-law when the poor creature could be induced to lie still a moment. the burly little son and heir, long since sound asleep in his cradle, was watched over by jessie, whose heart fluttered in dread she dare not say of what. twice that afternoon she had seen whispered conferences between old folsom and lannion. she knew that for some better reason than that he was overpersuaded by pappoose, mr. folsom had not carried out his project of sending them back to gate city. she saw that he made frequent visits to the cellar and had changed the arrangement of the air ports. she noted that the few ranch hands hung about the premises all day, their rifles ever within reach, and that often mr. folsom took the glasses and searched the road to frayne. she saw that earth was being heaped up in places against the ranch where the walls were thin or made of boarding. she saw that water and provisions were being stored in the cellar, and she knew that it could all mean only one thing--that the indians were again in force in the neighborhood, and that an indian siege was imminent. and all this time pappoose, though very brave, was so still and so intent upon her duties. even when supper was served for the ranch people in the kitchen that evening, as the sun went down, jess noted that two of the men kept constantly in saddle, riding round the buildings and anxiously scanning the open prairie on every side. there were only six men, all told now, including folsom (of course not counting hal, who was defenseless), altogether too small a number to successfully protect so large a knot of buildings against an insidious and powerful foe, and even of these six there were two who seemed so unstrung by tidings of the massacre as to be nearly nerveless. darkness settled down upon the valley, and, though calm and collected, folsom seemed oppressed by the deepest anxiety. every now and then he would step forth into the night and make a circuit of the buildings, exchange a word in low tone with some invisible guardian, for, heavily armed, the employés were gathered at the main building, and the wife and children of the chief herdsman were assigned to a room under its roof. particularly did folsom pet and encourage the dogs, two of them splendid mastiffs in whom hal took unusual pride. then he would return to his son's bedside, bend anxiously over him and lay a loving hand on pappoose's lustrous hair. it must have been ten o'clock and a night wind was rising, making the occasional cry of the coyotes even more weird and querulous, when they heard the sudden, fierce challenge of trooper, the keenest, finest of the mastiffs, and instantly his bark was echoed by the rush and scurry of every canine on the place. the men on the porch sprang to their feet and folsom hastened out to join them. the dogs had charged in the darkness toward the northeast, and somewhere out in that direction were now all furiously barking. aloft the skies were heavily clouded. the moon was banked and not a glimmer of light shone on earth or heaven. suddenly, afar out over the prairie, beyond where the dogs were challenging, there was heard the sound of a pony's neigh, an eager appeal for welcome and shelter, and folsom sprang confidently forward, his powerful tones calling off the dogs. they came back, growling, sniffing, only half-satisfied, still bristling at the unseen visitor. "war ponies never neigh," said folsom. "who are you, brothers--friends?" he called, in the sioux tongue, and a faint voice answered from the darkness, a pony came loping dimly into view, almost running over him, and in another minute an indian girl, trembling with fear and exhaustion, had toppled from the saddle and clasped the old trader's hand. "good god! lizette," he cried, "you again? what is wrong?" for her head was drooping, her knees giving way beneath her, as the poor child whispered her answer: "sioux coming--plenty braves! hide--quick!" and folsom bore her in his arms within. chapter xxiv. never unless sure of its ground and the weakness of the adversary does the modern indian band attack at night. folsom and his people well knew that. yet not five minutes after the indian girl, faint with exhaustion and dread, was carried within doors, the big mastiff challenged again. the dogs charged furiously out to the northeast and would not be recalled. for nearly half an hour they kept up their angry clamor. time and again during the night, suspicious and excited, they dashed out again and again, and once one of them, venturing further than his fellows, broke suddenly into loud cries of mingled pain and rage, and when at last he came whining piteously back to the ranch it was found that he was bleeding from a gash along the flank, where an indian arrow had seared him. only by fits and starts did any man sleep. hour after hour folsom's little garrison was on the alert. the women had all been moved to the deep, dry cellar, mrs. hal moaning over her baby, utterly unnerved, jessie silent, but white and tremulous; the herdsman's wife, an amazon, demanded the right to have a gun and fight by her husband's side; lizette, the indian girl, faint and starved, asked nothing but to be allowed to crouch at the door of the room where halbert lay, fevered and unconscious, and pappoose, scorning danger, flitted from her brother's bedside to her father's log-barricade at the east porch. in dread anxiety the hours dragged by, and at last lannion reached forth his hand and pulled the shirt sleeve of his comrade jake, half-dozing at his side. in an instant the latter was kneeling at his post. "what is it?" he queried, and lannion, pointing to the first faint, pallid gleam in the eastern sky, whispered: "time to be up, man. it's coming." for half an hour, except for the rushing of the laramie, a silence almost unearthly had brooded over the prairie, and even the dogs seemed lulled to sleep. but now, as the cold light crept slowly over the distant range, and a soft flush began to overspread the pallor of the dawn, far out over the valley the yelp of a coyote began again and all men strained their ears and listened, while strong hands grabbed the growling dogs and pinned them to earth, for, beginning at the east, the cry was taken up on every side. folsom's ranch seemed beleaguered by the gaunt, half-famished wolves of the upland prairies. "look to your sights, now, men! down into the cellar, pappoose!" exclaimed folsom, kindling with fierce excitement. "i've been the friend of all that tribe for thirty years, but when they break faith with me and mine that ends it! look to your sights and make every shot count!" he cautioned, as he made the rounds of the little shelters thrown up during the past two days. "we can stand off a hundred of 'em if you only keep your grit." again the clamor as of coyotes ceased. it was only the indian signal "ready," and every ranchman knew that with the rising sun, if not before, the swoop would come. again as the light broadened the dogs were loosed and presently were challenging all four points of the compass. the unseen foe was on every hand. perched as it was on a little rise, the ranch stood forth conspicuous over the valley. at the foot of the slope to the south lay the corral and some of the buildings, about one hundred yards away, where the shallow laramie curled and lapped beneath their walls, and now the dogs seemed to concentrate their attention on that side. folsom, rifle in hand, was kneeling on the porch, listening intently. two of the hands were with him. jake and lannion, experienced and reliable, had been given independent posts on the other front, and just as objects could be dimly recognized along the flats, there burst upon the ears of the little garrison a sudden chorus of exultant yells. a tongue of flame leaped upward from beyond the huts lately occupied by the ranchmen. the half-used haystacks caught and held one moment the fiery messenger, and then in a broad glare that reddened the flood of the laramie for miles and lighted up the ranch like a sunburst, gave forth a huge column of blaze and smoke that could be seen far over the black hills of wyoming, and all the valley seemed to spring to instant life. on every side arose the stirring war-cry of the sioux, the swift beat of pony hoofs, the ring of rifle, and brave john folsom's heart sank within him as he realized that here was no mere marauding party, but a powerful band organized for deliberate vengeance. the laramie plains were alive with darting, yelling, painted horsemen, circling about the ranch, hemming it in, cutting it off from the world. the bullets came whistling through the morning air, biting fiercely into the solid logs, spattering the chinking, smashing pane after pane. some of the dogs came howling and whining back for shelter, though the mastiffs held their ground, fiercely barking and bounding about, despite the whistles and calls from the besieged who sought to save them to the last, but not once as yet had the ranch replied with a shot. down in the cellar women clung together or clasped their wailing children and listened fearfully to the clamor. in hal's room the fevered sufferer awoke from his stupor and, demanding his rifle, struggled to rise from the bed, and there john folsom found pappoose, pale and determined, bending over her weakened brother and holding him down almost as she could have overpowered a child. lifting his son in his strong arms, he bore him to the cellar and laid him upon a couch of buffalo robes. "watch him here, my child," he said, as he clasped her in his arms one moment. "but on no account let any one show above ground now. there are more of them than i thought, yet there is hope for us. somebody is vexing them down the laramie." bounding up the steps, the veteran was almost back at his post upon the porch when there came a sound that seemed to give the lie to his last words and that froze the hope that had risen in his breast--the sudden rumble and thunder of at least two hundred hoofs, the charging yell of an indian band, the sputter and bang of rifles close at hand, and then a rush of feet, as, with faces agonized by fear, three of the men came darting within. "it's all up! there's a million indians!" they cried. two of the demoralized fellows plunged into the passage that led to the cellar. one burst into childish wailing and clung to folsom's knees. "let go, you coward!" yelled the old man in fury, as he kicked himself loose, then went bounding out upon the porch. god, what a sight! sweeping up the gentle slope, brandishing rifles and lances and war-clubs, racing for their hapless prey, came fifty ogallallas, burning star among the leaders. bullets could not stop them now. the two men who had stood to their posts knelt grim and desperate, and lannion's last shot took effect. within fifty yards of the walls burning star's rushing pony went down on his nose, and in the fury of his pace, turned sudden and complete somersault, crushing his red rider under him, and stretching him senseless on the turf. an inspiration, almost god given, seemed to flash upon the old trader at the instant. bareheaded, in his shirt sleeves, throwing upward and forward his empty hands, he sprang out as though to meet and rebuke his assailants. "hold!" he cried, in the tongue he knew so well "are my brothers crazed? look! i am no enemy it is your friend! it is old john!" and even in the rage of their charge, many indians at sight of him veered to right and left; many reined up short within ten paces of the unarmed man; two sprang from their ponies and threw themselves between him and their brethren, shouting to be heard. and then in the midst of furious discussion, some indians crying out for the blood of all at the ranch in revenge for chaska, some demanding instant surrender of every woman there in expiation for lizette, some urging that old john be given respectful hearing, but held prisoner, there came lashing into their midst a young brave, crying aloud and pointing down the now well-lighted valley where, darting about a mile away, a few indians were evidently striving to head off the coming of some hostile force. leaving two or three of their number trying to restore consciousness to the stricken chief, and a dozen, folsom's advocates among them, to hold possession of the ranch, away scurried most of the warriors at top speed to the aid of their outlying scouts. meantime, under cover of the fierce argument, jake and lannion had managed to crawl back within the building. folsom himself, in such calm as he could command, stood silent while his captors wrangled. the warriors who pleaded for him were standing elk, a sub chief of note, whose long attachment to folsom was based on kindnesses shown him when a young man, the other was young-shows-the-road, son of a chief who had guided more than one party of whites through the lands of the sioux before the bitterness of war arose between the races. they had loved folsom for years and would not desert him now in the face of popular clamor. yet even their influence would have failed but for the sound that told of hotter conflict still among the foothills along the opposite side of the valley. with straining ears, folsom listened, hope and fear alternating in his breast. the mingling yells and volleying told that the issue was in doubt. man after man of his captors galloped away until not half a dozen were left. now, jake and lannion could have shot them down and borne him within, but to what good? escape from the ranch itself was impossible! such action would only intensify the indian hate and make more horrible the indian vengeance. for twenty minutes the clamor continued, then seemed to die gradually away, and, with fury in their faces, back at full gallop came a dozen of the braves. one glance was enough. they had penned their foe among the rocks, but not without the loss of several at least of their band, for the foremost rode with brandished war-club straight at folsom, and despite the leap of his two champions to save, felled the old trader with one stunning blow, then gave the savage order to burn the ranch. by this time the sun was just peering into the valley. the smoke and flame from the corral were dying or drifting away. eagerly half a dozen young braves rushed for faggots and kindling with which to do his bidding, and a cry of despair went up from within the walls. recklessly now lannion and his comrade opened fire from the loopholes and shot down two of the dancing furies without, sending every other indian to the nearest cover. but the arrows that came whistling speedily were firebrands. the besiegers gained in force with every moment. poor old folsom, slowly regaining senses as he lay bound and helpless down by the stream, whither his captors had borne him, heard the jeers and shouts of triumph with which the indians within the corral were rapidly making their fire darts, when suddenly there rose on the morning air a sound that stilled all others, a sound to which the indians listened in superstitious awe, a sound that stopped the hands that sought to burn out the besieged and paralyzed just long enough all inspiration of attack. some of the indians, indeed, dropped their arms, others sprang to the ponies as though to take to flight. it was the voice of lizette, chanting the death song of the sioux. an hour later, once more in force, the band was gathered for its rush upon the ranch. jake, gallant fellow, lay bleeding at his post. hope of every kind was well-nigh dead. the silence without was only portent of the storm so soon to burst. pappoose, grasping her brother's rifle, crouched facing the narrow entrance to the cellar. jessie clung to the baby, for mrs. hal, only dimly conscious, was moaning by her husband's side, while lizette in silence was kneeling, watching them with strange glitter in her eyes. suddenly she started, and with hand to ear, listened intently. then she sprang to an air port and crouched there, quivering. then again the ground began to tremble under the distant thunder of pony feet, louder and louder every second. again came the rush of the indian braves, but with it no exultant yell, only cries of warning, and as this sound swept over and beyond their walls, there followed another, the distant, deep-throated trooper cheer, the crack of carbine, the rising thunder of the cavalry gallop, and then the voice of ned lannion rang jubilantly over the dull clamor. "up! up, everybody! thank god, it's dean and the boys!" * * * * * long years after, in the camps and stockades and the growing towns of the far west that almost marvelous rescue was the theme of many an hour's talk. the number of men who took part in it, the number of hardy fellows who personally guided the troops or else stood shoulder to shoulder with ned lannion at the last triumphant moment, increased so rapidly with the growing moons that in time the only wonder was that anything was left of the sioux. official records, however, limited the number of officers and men engaged to a select few, consisting entirely of lieutenant loring, united states engineers, lieutenant loomis, --th infantry, a few men from scattered troops, "pickups" at frayne and emory, with lieutenant marshall dean and fifty rank and file of company "c." loring, it will be remembered, had taken a small detachment from emory and gone into the hills in search of burleigh. loomis, fretting at the fort, was later electrified by a most grudgingly given order to march to the laramie and render such aid as might be required by the engineer officer of the department. dean, with only fifteen men all told, had dashed from frayne straight for the ranch, and, marching all night, had come in sight of the valley just as it was lighted afar to the eastward by the glare of the burning buildings. "we thought it was all over," said he, as he lay there weak and languid, a few days later, for the wound reopened in the rush of the fight, "but we rode on to the laramie, and there, god be thanked! fell in with loomis here and "c" troop, heading for the fire. no words can tell you our joy when we found the ranch still standing and some forty sioux getting ready for the final dash. that running fight, past the old home, and down the valley where we stirred up loring's besiegers and sent them whirling too--why, i'd give a fortune, if i had it, to live it over again!" but loring, after all, had the most thrilling story to tell--of how he wormed a clew to burleigh's hiding place out of a captured outlaw and beat up the party in a nook of the hills, nabbed the major asleep, but was warned that all the birdsall "outfit" would rally to the rescue, and so sent a courier to emory for "c" troop, and, making wide _détour_ to avoid the gang, ran slap into the sioux in the act of firing folsom's ranch. then he had to take to the rocks in the fight that followed, and had a desperate siege of a few hours, even burleigh having to handle a gun and fight for his life. "i spotted him for a coward that day we stumbled on red cloud's band up by the big horn. you remember it, dean, i thought him a villain when i learned how he was trying to undermine you. time proved him a thief and a scoundrel, but, peace to his ashes, he died like a gentleman after all, with two indian bullets through him, and just as rescue came. he had time to make full confession, and it was all pretty much as i suspected. the note dean picked up at reno, that so stampeded him, told how a blackmailing scoundrel was on his way to emory to expose him unless headed off by further huge payments. it was the fellow who called himself newhall." "the fellow who gave the tip to birdsall's people?" said old folsom at this juncture, raising a bandaged head from his daughter's lap. "who was he, really?" "burleigh knew all the time and i suspected the moment i heard miss folsom's description, and was certain the instant i laid eyes on him. he was a rascally captain cashiered at yuma the year before, and i was judge advocate of the court." "and mrs. fletcher?" asked pappoose, extending one hand to jess, while the other smoothed the gray curls on her fathers forehead. "mrs. fletcher was his deserted wife, one of­ those women who have known better days." the ranch is still there, or was twenty years ago, but even then the sioux were said to raise more hair in the neighborhood than folsom did cattle. the old trader had been gathered to his fathers, and mrs. hal to hers, for she broke down utterly after the events of ' . neither pappoose nor jessie cared to revisit the spot for some time, yet, oddly enough, both have done so more than once. the first time its chronicler ever saw it was in company with a stalwart young captain of horse and his dark-eyed, beautiful wife nine years after the siege. hal met us, a shy, silent fellow, despite his inches. "among other things," said he, "lieutenant and mrs. loomis are coming next week. i wish you might all be here to meet them." "i know," said mrs. dean, "we are to meet at cheyenne. but, hal, where's your wife?" he looked shyer still. "she don't like to meet folks unless----" "there's no unless about it," said the lady with all her old decision as she sprang from the ambulance, and presently reappeared, leading by the hand, reluctant, yet not all unhappy, lizette. some people said hal folsom had no business to marry an indian girl before his wife was dead three years, but all who knew lizette said he did perfectly right, at least pappoose did, and that settled it. as for loring--but that's enough for one story. the end. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) wigwam evenings sioux folk tales retold by charles a. eastman (_ohiyesa_) and elaine goodale eastman illustrated by edwin willard deming boston little, brown, and company copyright, , by little, brown, and company all rights reserved printed in the united states of america [illustration: the stranger watches the laugh-maker and the bears. frontispiece. _see page _] _books by charles a. eastman_ indian boyhood from the deep woods to civilization old indian days indian scout talks indian heroes and great chieftains _in collaboration with elaine g. eastman_ wigwam evenings note _the authors wish to acknowledge the courtesy of the ladies' home journal, good housekeeping, and the woman's home companion, in giving permission to include in this volume several stories which first appeared in their pages._ preface these scattered leaves from the unwritten school-book of the wilderness have been gathered together for the children of to-day; both as a slight contribution to the treasures of aboriginal folk-lore, and with the special purpose of adapting them to the demands of the american school and fireside. that is to say, we have chosen from a mass of material the shorter and simpler stories and parts of stories, and have not always insisted upon a literal rendering, but taken such occasional liberties with the originals as seemed necessary to fit them to the exigencies of an unlike tongue and to the sympathies of an alien race. nevertheless, we hope and think that we have been able to preserve in the main the true spirit and feeling of these old tales--tales that have been handed down by oral tradition alone through many generations of simple and story-loving people. the "creation myths" and others rich in meaning have been treated very simply, as their symbolism is too complicated for very young readers; and much of the characteristic detail of the rambling native story-teller has been omitted. a story that to our thinking is most effectively told in a brief ten minutes is by him made to fill a long evening by dint of minute and realistic description of every stage of a journey, each camp made, every feature of a ceremony performed, and so on indefinitely. true, the attention of his unlettered listeners never flags; but our sophisticated youngsters would soon weary, we fear, of any such repetition. there are stories here of different types, each of which has its prototype or parallel in the nursery tales of other nations. the animal fables of the philosophic red man are almost as terse and satisfying as those of aesop, of whom they put us strongly in mind. a little further on we meet with brave and fortunate heroes, and beautiful princesses, and wicked old witches, and magical transformations, and all the other dear, familiar material of fairy lore, combined with a touch that is unfamiliar and fascinating. the "little boy man," the adam of the sioux, has a singular interest for us in that he is a sort of grown-up child, or a "peter pan" who never really grows up, and whose eve-less eden is a world where all the animals are his friends and killing for any purpose is unknown. surely the red man's secret ideal must have been not war, but peace! the elements, indeed, are shown to be at war, as in the battle between heat and frost, or that of the mighty thunder and the monstrous deep; but let it be noted here that these conflicts are far more poetic and less bloody than those of jack the giant-killer and other redoubtable heroes of the anglo-saxon nursery. the animal loves are strange--perhaps even repellent; yet our children have read of a prince who falls in love with a white cat; in the story of "the runaways" we come upon the old, old ruse of magic barriers interposed between pursuer and pursued; and andersen's charming fantasy of "the woodcutter's child" who disobeyed her guardian angel has scarcely a more delicate pathos than the "ghost wife." there are, to be sure, certain characters in this forest wonder-world that are purely and unmistakably indian; yet after all unk-to-mee, the sly one, whose adventures are endless, may be set beside quaint "brer fox" of negro folk-lore, and chan-o-te-dah is obviously an indian brownie or gnome, while monstrous e-ya and wicked double-face re-incarnate the cannibal giants of our nursery days. real children everywhere have lively imaginations that feed upon such robust marvels as these; and in many of us elders, i hope, enough of the child is left to find pleasure in a literature so vital, so human in its appeal, and one that, old as it is, has for the most part never until now put on the self-consciousness of type. the stories are more particularly intended to be read beside an open fire to children of five years old and upward, or in the school-room by the nine, ten, eleven-year-olds in the corresponding grades. e. g. e. contents evenings page first the buffalo and the field-mouse second the frogs and the crane third the eagle and the beaver fourth the war party fifth the falcon and the duck sixth the raccoon and the bee-tree seventh the badger and the bear eighth the good-luck token ninth unktomee and his bundle of songs tenth unktomee and the elk eleventh the festival of the little people twelfth eya the devourer thirteenth the wars of wa-kee-yan and unk-tay-hee fourteenth the little boy man fifteenth the return of the little boy man sixteenth the first battle seventeenth the beloved of the sun eighteenth wood-chopper and berry-picker nineteenth the son-in-law twentieth the comrades twenty-first the laugh-maker twenty-second the runaways twenty-third the girl who married the star twenty-fourth north wind and star boy twenty-fifth the ten virgins twenty-sixth the magic arrows twenty-seventh the ghost-wife illustrations page the stranger watches the laugh-maker and the bears _frontispiece_ smoky day telling tales of old days around his fire just then a fox crept up behind the crane the falcon chases the old drake "come down, friends!" called the raccoon so they ran and they ran out of the woods on to the shining white beach "i would not trouble you," said he, "but my little folks are starving" "oh, that is only a bundle of old songs," replied unktomee tanagela and her little brother with his long spear he stabbed each of the monsters he came to a little hut where lived an old bear "do not shoot a white deer when you see him coming toward you" they stood thus with their beaks touching over the stream star boy attacked by hinhan, the owl she took up handsful of ashes to throw into their faces he offered up the body as a sacrifice at the touch of his magic arrow, it fell at his feet he was once seen with several deer about him, petting and handling them first evening the buffalo and the field-mouse wigwam evenings first evening the cold december moon is just showing above the tree-tops, pointing a white finger here and there at the clustered teepees of the sioux, while opposite their winter camp on the lake shore a lonely, wooded island is spread like a black buffalo robe between the white, snow-covered ice and the dull gray sky. all by itself at the further end of the village stands the teepee of smoky day, the old story-teller, the school-master of the woods. the paths that lead to this low brown wigwam are well beaten; deep, narrow trails, like sheep paths, in the hard-frozen snow. to-night a generous fire of logs gives both warmth and light inside the teepee, and the old man is calmly filling his long, red pipe for the smoke of meditation, when the voices and foot-steps of several children are distinctly heard through the stillness of the winter night. the door-flap is raised, and the nine-year-old tanagela, the humming-bird, slips in first, with her roguish black eyes and her shy smile. "grandmother, we have come to hear a story," she murmurs. "i have brought you a sun-dried buffalo-tongue, grandmother!" [illustration: smoky day telling tales of old days around his fire. _page _] one by one the little people of the village follow her, and all seat themselves on the ground about the central fire until the circle is well filled. then the old man lays down his pipe, clears his throat once or twice and begins in a serious voice: "these old stories for which you ask teach us the way of life, my grandchildren. the great-grandfather of all made us all; therefore we are brothers. "in many of the stories the people have a common language, which now the great mystery has taken away from us, and has put a barrier between us and them, so that we can no longer converse together and understand the speech of the animal people. "observe, further, that silence is greater than speech. this is why we honor the animals, who are more silent than man, and we reverence the trees and rocks, where the great mystery lives undisturbed, in a peace that is never broken. "let no one ask a question until the story is finished." the buffalo and the field-mouse once upon a time, when the field-mouse was out gathering wild beans for the winter, his neighbor, the buffalo, came down to graze in the meadow. this the little mouse did not like, for he knew that the other would mow down all the long grass with his prickly tongue, and there would be no place in which to hide. he made up his mind to offer battle like a man. "ho, friend buffalo, i challenge you to a fight!" he exclaimed in a small, squeaking voice. the buffalo paid no attention, no doubt thinking it only a joke. the mouse angrily repeated the challenge, and still his enemy went on quietly grazing. then the little mouse laughed with contempt as he offered his defiance. the buffalo at last looked at him and replied carelessly: "you had better keep still, little one, or i shall come over there and step on you, and there will be nothing left!" "you can't do it!" replied the mouse. "i tell you to keep still," insisted the buffalo, who was getting angry. "if you speak to me again, i shall certainly come and put an end to you!" "i dare you to do it!" said the mouse, provoking him. thereupon the other rushed upon him. he trampled the grass clumsily and tore up the earth with his front hoofs. when he had ended, he looked for the mouse, but he could not see him anywhere. "i told you i would step on you, and there would be nothing left!" he muttered. just then he felt a scratching inside his right ear. he shook his head as hard as he could, and twitched his ears back and forth. the gnawing went deeper and deeper until he was half wild with the pain. he pawed with his hoofs and tore up the sod with his horns. bellowing madly, he ran as fast as he could, first straight forward and then in circles, but at last he stopped and stood trembling. then the mouse jumped out of his ear, and said: "will you own now that i am master?" "no!" bellowed the buffalo, and again he started toward the mouse, as if to trample him under his feet. the little fellow was nowhere to be seen, but in a minute the buffalo felt him in the other ear. once more he became wild with pain, and ran here and there over the prairie, at times leaping high in the air. at last he fell to the ground and lay quite still. the mouse came out of his ear, and stood proudly upon his dead body. "eho!" said he, "i have killed the greatest of all beasts. this will show to all that i am master!" standing upon the body of the dead buffalo, he called loudly for a knife with which to dress his game. in another part of the meadow, red fox, very hungry, was hunting mice for his breakfast. he saw one and jumped upon him with all four feet, but the little mouse got away, and he was dreadfully disappointed. all at once he thought he heard a distant call: "bring a knife! bring a knife!" when the second call came, red fox started in the direction of the sound. at the first knoll he stopped and listened, but hearing nothing more, he was about to go back. just then he heard the call plainly, but in a very thin voice, "bring a knife!" red fox immediately set out again and ran as fast as he could. by and by he came upon the huge body of the buffalo lying upon the ground. the little mouse still stood upon the body. "i want you to dress this buffalo for me and i will give you some of the meat," commanded the mouse. "thank you, my friend, i shall be glad to do this for you," he replied, politely. the fox dressed the buffalo, while the mouse sat upon a mound near by, looking on and giving his orders. "you must cut the meat into small pieces," he said to the fox. when the fox had finished his work, the mouse paid him with a small piece of liver. he swallowed it quickly and smacked his lips. "please, may i have another piece?" he asked quite humbly. "why, i gave you a very large piece! how greedy you are!" exclaimed the mouse. "you may have some of the blood clots," he sneered. so the poor fox took the blood clots and even licked off the grass. he was really very hungry. "please may i take home a piece of the meat?" he begged. "i have six little folks at home, and there is nothing for them to eat." "you can take the four feet of the buffalo. that ought to be enough for all of you!" "hi, hi! thank you, thank you!" said the fox. "but, mouse, i have a wife also, and we have had bad luck in hunting. we are almost starved. can't you spare me a little more?" "why," declared the mouse, "i have already overpaid you for the little work you have done. however, you can take the head, too!" thereupon the fox jumped upon the mouse, who gave one faint squeak and disappeared. _if you are proud and selfish you will lose all in the end._ second evening the frogs and the crane second evening again the story-hour is come, and the good old wife of the legend-teller has made her poor home as warm and pleasant as may be, in expectation of their guests. she is proud of her husband's honorable position as the village teacher, and makes all the children welcome, as they arrive, with her shrill-voiced, cheerful greeting: "han, han; sit down, sit down; that is right, that is very right, my grandchild!" to-night the humming-bird has come leading by the hand her small brother, who stumbles along in his fringed, leathern leggings and handsomely beaded moccasins, his chubby, solemn face finished off with two long, black braids tied with strips of otter-skin. as he is inclined to be restless and to talk out of season, she keeps him close beside her. "it is cold to-night!" he pipes up suddenly when all is quiet. "why do we not listen to these stories in the warm summer-time, elder sister?" "hush, my little brother!" tanagela reproves him with a frightened look. "have you never heard that if the old stories are told in summer, the snakes will creep into our beds?" she whispers fearfully. "that is true, my granddaughter," assents the old man. "yet we may tell a legend of summer days to comfort the heart of the small brother!" the frogs and the crane in the heart of the woods there lay a cool, green pond. the shores of the pond were set with ranks of tall bulrushes that waved crisply in the wind, and in the shallow bays there were fleets of broad water lily leaves. among the rushes and reeds and in the quiet water there dwelt a large tribe of frogs. on every warm night of spring, the voices of the frogs arose in a cheerful chorus. some voices were low and deep--these were the oldest and wisest of the frogs; at least, they were old enough to have learned wisdom. some were high and shrill, and these were the voices of the little frogs who did not like to be reminded of the days when they had tails and no legs. "kerrump! kerrump! i'm chief of this pond!" croaked a very large bullfrog, sitting in the shade of a water lily leaf. "kerrump! kerrump! i'm chief of this pond!" replied a hoarse voice from the opposite bank. "kerrump! kerrump! i'm chief of this pond!" boasted a third old frog from the furthest shore of the pond. now a long-legged white crane was standing near by, well hidden by the coarse grass that grew at the water's edge. he was very hungry that evening, and when he heard the deep voice of the first bullfrog he stepped briskly up to him and made a quick pass under the broad leaf with his long, cruel bill. the old frog gave a frightened croak, and kicked violently in his efforts to get away, while over the quiet pond, splash! splash! went the startled little frogs into deep water. the crane almost had him, when something cold and slimy wound itself about one of his legs. he drew back for a second, and the frog got safely away! but the crane did not lose his dinner after all, for about his leg was curled a large black water snake, and that made a fair meal. now he rested awhile on one leg, and listened. the first frog was silent, but from the opposite bank the second frog croaked boastfully: "kerrump! kerrump! i'm chief of this pond!" the crane began to be hungry again. he went round the pond without making any noise, and pounced upon the second frog, who was sitting up in plain sight, swelling his chest with pride, for he really thought now that he was the sole chief of the pond. the crane's head and most of his long neck disappeared under the water, and all over the pond the little frogs went splash! splash! into the deepest holes to be out of the way. just as he had the frog by one hind leg, the crane saw something that made him let go, flap his broad wings and fly awkwardly away to the furthest shore. it was a mink, with his slender brown body and wicked eyes, and he had crept very close to the crane, hoping to seize him at his meal! so the second frog got away too; but he was so dreadfully frightened that he never spoke again. after a long time the crane got over his fright and he became very hungry once more. the pond had been still so long that many of the frogs were singing their pleasant chorus, and above them all there boomed the deep voice of the third and last bullfrog, saying: "kerrump! kerrump! i'm chief of this pond!" the crane stood not far from the boaster, and he determined to silence him once for all. the next time he began to speak, he had barely said "kerrump!" when the crane had him by the leg. he croaked and struggled in vain, and in another moment he would have gone down the crane's long throat. [illustration] but just then a fox crept up behind the crane and seized _him_! the crane let go the frog and was carried off screaming into the woods for the fox's supper. so the third frog got away; but he was badly lamed by the crane's strong bill, and he never dared to open his mouth again. _it is not a wise thing to boast too loudly._ third evening the eagle and the beaver third evening "no, elder sister, it is not for a hunter and a brave to fetch wood for the lodge fire! that is woman's task, and it is not right that you should ask it of me." "but see, my younger brother, you are only a small boy and can neither hunt nor fight; surely, therefore, it is well for you to help our mother at home!" the two children, wasula and chatanna, as they draw near the old story-teller's wigwam, are carrying on a dispute that has arisen between them earlier in the evening, when dry sticks were to be gathered for cooking the supper, and chatanna, aged seven, refused to help his sister on the ground that it is not a warrior's duty to provide wood. both appeal to their teacher to settle the question. "hun, hun, hay!" good-naturedly exclaims the old man. "truly, there is much to be said on both sides; but perhaps you can agree more easily after you have heard my story." the eagle and the beaver out of the quiet blue sky there shot like an arrow the great war-eagle. beside the clear brown stream an old beaver-woman was busily chopping wood. yet she was not too busy to catch the whir of descending wings, and the eagle reached too late the spot where she had vanished in the midst of the shining pool. he perched sullenly upon a dead tree near by and kept his eyes steadily upon the smooth sheet of water above the dam. after a time the water was gently stirred and a sleek, brown head cautiously appeared above it. "what right have you," reproached the beaver-woman, "to disturb thus the mother of a peaceful and hard-working people?" "ugh, i am hungry," the eagle replied shortly. "then why not do as we do--let other folks alone and work for a living?" "that is all very well for you," the eagle retorted, "but not everybody can cut down trees with his teeth, or live upon bark and weeds in a mud-plastered wigwam. i am a warrior, not an old woman!" "it is true that some people are born trouble-makers," returned the beaver, quietly. "yet i see no good reason why you, as well as we, should not be content with plain fare and willing to toil for what you want. my work, moreover, is of use to others besides myself and family, for with my dam-building i deepen the stream for the use of all the dwellers therein, while you are a terror to all living creatures that are weaker than yourself. you would do well to profit by my example." so saying, she dove down again to the bottom of the pool. the eagle waited patiently for a long time, but he saw nothing more of her; and so, in spite of his contempt for the harmless industry of an old beaver-woman, it was he, not she, who was obliged to go hungry that morning. _pride alone will not fill the stomach._ fourth evening the war-party fourth evening there is no greater rudeness than to interrupt a story-teller, even by the slightest movement. all sioux children are drilled in this rule of behavior, as in many others, from their earliest babyhood, and old smoky day has seldom to complain of any lack of attention. even teona and waola, active boys of eleven and twelve, and already daring hunters, would be ashamed to draw upon themselves by word or motion the reproving looks of their mates. a disturbance so serious as to deserve the notice of the old teacher himself would disgrace them all! "although we shall hear again of the animal people," he begins pleasantly but with due gravity, "and even of some who are not animals at all, we must remember that each of these warriors of whom i shall tell you really represents a man, and the special weakness of each should remind us to inquire of our own weakness. in this life, it is often the slow one who wins in the end; and this we shall now see!" the war-party one day the turtle made ready to go upon the war-path. his comrades who wished to go with him were live coals, ashes, the bulrush, the grasshopper, the dragonfly and the pickerel. all seven warriors went on in good spirits to the first camp, where a strong wind arose in the early morning and blew the ashes away. "iho!" exclaimed the others, "this one was no warrior!" the six kept on their way, and the second day they came to a river. there live coals perished at the crossing. "s-s-s," he said, and was gone! "ah!" declared the five, "it is easy to see that he could not fight!" on the further side of the river they looked back, and saw that the bulrush had stayed behind. he stood still and waved his hand to the others, who grumbled among themselves, saying: "he was no true brave, that one!" the four who were left went on till they came to a swampy place, and there the grasshopper stuck fast. in his struggles to get out of the bog he pulled both legs off, and so there were only three to go upon the war-path! the dragonfly mourned for his friend. he cried bitterly, and finally blew his nose so hard that his slender neck broke in two. "ah!" declared the other two, "we are better off without those feeble ones!" the pickerel and the turtle, being left alone, advanced bravely into the country of the enemy. at the head of the lake they were met and quickly surrounded. the pickerel escaped by swimming, but the turtle, that slow one, was caught! they took him to the village, and there the head men held a council to decide what should be done with him. "we will build a fire and roast him alive in the midst of it," one proposed. "hi-i-i!" the turtle shrilled his war-cry. "that is the brave death i would choose! i shall trample the fire, and scatter live coals among the people!" "no," declared another, "we will boil water and throw him into the pot!" "hi-i-i!" again cried the turtle. "i shall dance in the boiling pot, and clouds of steam will arise to blind the eyes of the people!" the counsellors looked doubtfully at one another, and at last one said: "why not carry him out to the middle of the lake and drown him?" then the turtle drew in his head and became silent. "alas!" he groaned, "that is the only death i fear!" so the people took him in a canoe, and rowed out to the middle of the lake. there they dropped him in, and he sank like a stone! but the next minute he came up to the top of the water and again uttered his war-cry. "hi-i-i!" he cried. "now i am at home!" and he dived and swam wherever he would. this story teaches us that _patience and quick wit are better than speed_. fifth evening the falcon and the duck fifth evening the boaster is a well-known character in every indian village; and it is quite plain from the number of stories warning us against self-praise, that the wise men of the tribe have not been slow to discover and point out this weakness of their people. the stories told by smoky day are seldom without a moral, and we may be sure that the children are not sent to him only to be entertained, but also to learn and profit by the stored-up wisdom of the past. moreover, they are expected afterward to repeat the tales in the family circle, and there is much rivalry among the little folks as to who shall tell them best. teona has a good memory and ready wit, and his versions are commonly received with approval, but it happens that little tanagela, his cousin, has just won a triumph by her sprightly way of telling the fourth evening's tale of the seven warriors. the little maid listens to-night with burning cheeks and shining eyes, eager to repeat her success with the pretty story of the falcon and the duck the wintry winds had already begun to whistle and the waves to rise when the drake and his mate gathered their half-grown brood together on the shores of their far northern lake. "wife," said he, "it is now time to take the children southward, to the warm countries which they have never yet seen!" very early the next morning they set out on their long journey, forming a great v against the sky in their flight. the mother led her flock and the father brought up the rear, keeping a sharp lookout for stragglers. [illustration] all day they flew high in the keen air, over wide prairies and great forests of northern pine, until toward evening they saw below them a chain of lakes, glittering like a string of dark-blue stones. swinging round in a half circle, they dropped lower and lower, ready to alight and rest upon the smooth surface of the nearest lake. suddenly their leader heard a whizz sound like that of a bullet as it cuts the air, and she quickly gave the warning: "honk! honk! danger, danger!" all descended in dizzy spirals, but as the great falcon swooped toward them with upraised wing, the ducklings scattered wildly hither and thither. the old drake came last, and it was he who was struck! "honk, honk!" cried all the ducks in terror, and for a minute the air was full of soft downy feathers like flakes of snow. but the force of the blow was lost upon the well-cushioned body of the drake, he soon got over his fright and went on his way southward with his family, while the falcon dropped heavily to the water's edge with a broken wing. there he stayed and hunted mice as best he could from day to day, sleeping at night in a hollow log to be out of the way of the fox and the weasel. all the wit he had was not too much whereby to keep himself alive through the long, hard winter. toward spring, however, the falcon's wing had healed and he could fly a little, though feebly. the sun rose higher and higher in the blue heavens, and the ducks began to return to their cool northern home. every day a flock or two flew over the lake; but the falcon dared not charge upon the flocks, much as he wished to do so. he was weak with hunger, and afraid to trust to the strength of the broken wing. one fine day a chattering flock of mallards alighted quite near him, cooling their glossy breasts upon the gentle rippling wave. "here, children," boasted an old drake, "is the very spot where your father was charged upon last autumn by a cruel falcon! i can tell you that it took all my skill and quickness in dodging to save my life. best of all, our fierce enemy dropped to the ground with a broken wing! doubtless he is long since dead of starvation, or else a fox or a mink has made a meal of the wicked creature!" by these words the falcon knew his old enemy, and his courage returned. "nevertheless, i am still here!" he exclaimed, and darted like a flash upon the unsuspecting old drake, who was resting and telling of his exploit and narrow escape with the greatest pride and satisfaction. "honk! honk!" screamed all the ducks, and they scattered and whirled upward like the dead leaves in autumn; but the falcon with sure aim selected the old drake and gave swift chase. round and round in dizzy spirals they swung together, till with a quick spurt the falcon struck the shining, outstretched neck of the other, and snapped it with one powerful blow of his reunited wing. _do not exult too soon; nor is it wise to tell of your brave deeds within the hearing of your enemy._ sixth evening the raccoon and the bee-tree sixth evening "ho, chatanna," says the old story-teller, pleasantly, "i see that you have brought mato, the bear, with you to-night! i hope he will be good and not disturb the other scholars." "grandfather," says chatanna, earnestly, "he will be good. he obeys me, and is never troublesome like some pets. he will lie quietly here by me and listen to the story!" all the children range themselves around the brightly burning fire, the little boys sitting cross-legged, and the girls sideways, like demure little women. although they do not know it yet, there is a special treat in store for them all this evening. the story is one in which feasting plays a part, and whenever good things to eat come into a story, it is a pleasant custom of the sioux to offer some delicacy. the good old wife of the teacher has prepared a kettle full of her choicest wild rice, dark in color but of a flavor to be remembered, and a generous dish of boiled rice sprinkled with maple-sugar is passed to each child, (and doubtless shared with mato by his loving friend,) at the close of the story about the raccoon and the bee-tree the raccoon had been asleep all day in the snug hollow of a tree. the dusk was coming on when he awoke, stretched himself once or twice, and jumping down from the top of the tall, dead stump in which he made his home, set out to look for his supper. in the midst of the woods there was a lake, and all along the lake shore there rang out the alarm cries of the water people as the raccoon came nearer and nearer. first the swan gave a scream of warning. the crane repeated the cry, and from the very middle of the lake the loon, swimming low, took it up and echoed it back over the still water. the raccoon sped merrily on, and finding no unwary bird that he could seize he picked up a few mussel-shells from the beach, cracked them neatly and ate the sweet meat. a little further on, as he was leaping hither and thither through the long, tangled meadow grass, he landed with all four feet on a family of skunks--father, mother and twelve little ones, who were curled up sound asleep in a soft bed of broken dry grass. "huh!" exclaimed the father skunk. "what do you mean by this, eh?" and he stood looking at him defiantly. [illustration] "oh, excuse me, excuse me," begged the raccoon. "i am very sorry. i did not mean to do it! i was just running along and i did not see you at all." "better be careful where you step next time," grumbled the skunk, and the raccoon was glad to hurry on. running up a tall tree he came upon two red squirrels in one nest, but before he could get his paws upon one of them they were scolding angrily from the topmost bough. "come down, friends!" called the raccoon. "what are you doing up there? why, i wouldn't harm you for anything!" "ugh, you can't fool us," chattered the squirrels, and the raccoon went on. deep in the woods, at last, he found a great hollow tree which attracted him by a peculiar sweet smell. he sniffed and sniffed, and went round and round till he saw something trickling down a narrow crevice. he tasted it and it was deliciously sweet. he ran up the tree and down again, and at last found an opening into which he could thrust his paw. he brought it out covered with honey! now the raccoon was happy. he ate and scooped, and scooped and ate the golden, trickling honey with both forepaws till his pretty, pointed face was daubed all over. suddenly he tried to get a paw into his ear. something hurt him terribly just then, and the next minute his sensitive nose was frightfully stung. he rubbed his face with both sticky paws. the sharp stings came thicker and faster, and he wildly clawed the air. at last he forgot to hold on to the branch any longer, and with a screech he tumbled to the ground. there he rolled and rolled on the dead leaves till he was covered with leaves from head to foot, for they stuck to his fine, sticky fur, and most of all they covered his eyes and his striped face. mad with fright and pain he dashed through the forest calling to some one of his own kind to come to his aid. [illustration: so they ran and they ran out of the woods on to the shining white beach.] the moon was now bright, and many of the woods people were abroad. a second raccoon heard the call and went to meet it. but when he saw a frightful object plastered with dry leaves racing madly toward him he turned and ran for his life, for he did not know what this thing might be. the raccoon who had been stealing the honey ran after him as fast as he could, hoping to overtake and beg the other to help him get rid of his leaves. so they ran and they ran out of the woods on to the shining white beach around the lake. here a fox met them, but after one look at the queer object which was chasing the frightened raccoon he too turned and ran at his best speed. presently a young bear came loping out of the wood and sat up on his haunches to see them go by. but when he got a good look at the raccoon who was plastered with dead leaves, he scrambled up a tree to be out of the way. by this time the poor raccoon was so frantic that he scarcely knew what he was doing. he ran up the tree after the bear and got hold of his tail. "woo, woo!" snarled the bear, and the raccoon let go. he was tired out and dreadfully ashamed. he did now what he ought to have done at the very first--he jumped into the lake and washed off most of the leaves. then he got back to his hollow tree and curled himself up and licked and licked his soft fur till he had licked himself clean, and then he went to sleep. _the midnight hunter steals at his own risk._ seventh evening the badger and the bear seventh evening the night is cold and clear, with a full moon overhead, and soon after supper tanagela appears in her snug doeskin gown and warm robe of the same, tanned with the hair on, drawing her little brother in a great turtle-shell over the crusty snow. old smoky day laughs heartily at the sight, standing just outside his teepee door to watch for the coming of the children. nor is this all, for in the wake of this pair comes another dragging a rude sled made of a buffalo's ribs, well covered with soft furs, while still another has borrowed his mother's large raw-hide for the occasion. after their frolicsome ride through the brightly lighted village, they are all in a happy mood, ready to listen to the interesting story of the badger and the bear the badger lived in a little house under the hill and it was warm and snug. here, too, lived mother badger and the little badgers, and they were fat and merry, for the gray old badger was a famous hunter. folks said he must have a magic art in making arrows, since he never failed to bring in meat enough and to spare! one day, father badger stayed at home to make new arrows. his wife was busy slicing and drying the meat left over from the hunt of the day before, while the little ones played at hide-and-go-seek about the lodge. all at once, a big, clumsy shape darkened the low doorway. the children hid their faces in fear, but father badger got up and welcomed the stranger kindly. he was a large black bear. his shaggy skin hung loosely, and his little red eyes turned hungrily on the strips of good meat hung up to dry. "ho! be seated, friend!" said the old badger. he lighted and passed the long pipe, while his wife at once broiled a thick slice of savory venison over the coals and offered it to their guest in a wooden basin. the bear ate like a starving man, and soon after he had eaten he shuffled away. next day the bear came again, and on the day after, and for many days. at each visit he was invited to eat, according to the custom, and feasted well by the badger, skilful hunter and generous host. after many days the bear came one morning looking fat and sleek, and he had brought with him his whole family. growling savagely, he rudely turned the badger family out of their comfortable lodge, well stored with good food and soft robes. even the magic arrows of father badger were left behind. crying bitterly, the homeless badgers went off into the woods to seek another place of shelter. that night they slept cold under a great rock, and the children went supperless to bed, for the badger could not hunt without his arrows. all the next day and for several days after he wandered through the forest looking for game, but found none. one night, the children were so hungry and cried so hard, that the poor old father at last said: "well, then, i must beg for you!" so he crept back to his old home, where the bear family now lived and grew fat. standing in the doorway, he begged quite humbly for a small piece of meat. "i would not trouble you," said he, "but my little folks are starving!" [illustration] however, the bear got up and turned him angrily out-of-doors, while the ill-natured little bears chuckled and laughed to see how thin and hungry he looked! all laughed but one, and that one was the smallest and ugliest of the cubs, who had always been teased and abused by the others. he was sorry for the poor badger, and when no one was looking he slyly stole a piece of his mother's meat and threw it into their hut, and then ran home again. this happened several times, and now the family of badgers were only kept from starving by the gifts of the kind-hearted little bear. at last came the avenger, who sprang from a drop of innocent blood. he is very tall, strong and beautiful, and is feared by all wrong-doers. the bear saw him coming and began to tremble. he at once called to the badger, who was not far off, and invited him to come and eat. but the avenger came first! then the bear called upon his wife and children to follow him, and took to his heels. he ran as fast as he could, looking over his shoulder from time to time, for he was really terribly frightened. he never came back any more, and the badger family returned and joyfully possessed their old home. _there is no meanness like ingratitude._ eighth evening the good-luck token eighth evening "ah, teona, i saw you out to-day with your new bow and arrows! i hope you have not been hasty to display your skill with the new weapons to the injury of any harmless creature," says old smoky day, gravely, as the boy hunter arrives quite out of breath. "you have been told," he adds, "that the animals long ago agreed to sacrifice their lives for ours, when we are in need of food or of skins for garments, but that we are forbidden to kill for sport alone." "why, grandfather," the boy admits, "i followed a gray squirrel from tree to tree, and shot at him more than once, but he always dodged the arrow in time!" "and were you then hungry? did you have any use for the little fellow if you had killed him?" the old man persists. "there was once a squirrel who made a treaty of peace with a little boy like you. i will tell you his story to-night." the good-luck token there was once an old couple who lived quite alone with their little grandson in the midst of a great wood. they were wretchedly poor, for the old man was now growing too weak to hunt, and often came home at night empty-handed. the old woman dug roots and gathered berries for food; but alas! her eyesight was no longer good, and there were sometimes whole days when there was nothing in the lodge to eat. one day the boy became very hungry, and he said to his grandfather: "grandfather, only make me a bow and some arrows, and i will hunt for us all!" the first time he went out into the forest with his bow and arrows he met with a chickadee, who said to him: "shoot me! i am willing to give my life to satisfy your hunger." the boy shot and took home the tiny bird, and when he threw it down before his grandmother it was no longer a chickadee, but a fine, fat partridge, and the poor old folks were overcome with joy. "ah, ah, my grandson!" they cried. "you are indeed a hunter!" the next day, when he went out to hunt, the boy walked a long way without seeing any game. at last he thought he heard somebody laughing in the depths of the forest. the laughter sounded nearer and nearer as he walked on. by and by he was sure he heard some person talking to himself, and in the end he could actually make out the words, although he saw no one. "ha, ha," chirrupped the gay voice, "i am surely the luckiest creature alive! i leap and flit all day long from bough to bough. i am quick as a flash, so that i can easily escape my enemies. in my free and happy life there is but one thing i fear, and that is a boy's blunt-headed arrow!" when the boy heard this, he advanced boldly, and his quick eyes made out a snug wigwam in the hollow of a great tree. he peeped in, and saw that the house was warm and well stored with nuts of all kinds. its little owner sat flirting his bushy tail in the corner, upon a bed of dry leaves; but as soon as he spied the boy, he ran past him with a scream of fright and scampered off among the thick woods. the boy followed as fast as he could, and after a long chase he tired out and overtook the squirrel, who sat coughing and grunting upon the bough of a tree just above his head. "boy," he exclaimed, "only spare my life, and you shall have a charm that will make you a successful hunter as long as you live!" the boy agreed, and the squirrel took him back to his own wigwam, where he filled the little fellow's bag with nuts from his pile. "these," said he, "are all lucky nuts, and if you put one of them in your pouch when you go out to hunt, you will surely kill a bear!" this the boy did, and to the great joy of the poor old folks he became a famous hunter, so that from that time on they never wanted meat in their lodge. do not harm your weaker brothers, for even a little squirrel may be the bearer of good fortune! ninth evening unktomee and his bundle of songs ninth evening "now, my grandchildren," says smoky day, "i shall tell you of one who is well known in the wonder-world of our people. he is a great traveller, seems to know everybody, and is always good-natured, but he is also a shameless boaster and plays many tricks upon those he meets on the road. no one is so wise and cunning as unktomee, the spider; and yet he likes to appear as simple and innocent as a child! "his adventures are many. sometimes he gets the better of the animal people, and again they may succeed in outwitting him, so that he is well laughed at for his trouble! we may all learn from these stories of unktomee and his sly tricks how to be on our guard against those deceitful ones who come to us in the guise of friends." unktomee and his bundle of songs it was a bright, sunshiny day, and the flocks of ducks flying northward had all stopped to rest beside a little lake, and were splashing and paddling about in the cool water. they were happy and very noisy, but suddenly they ceased their cries and calls and became quite silent, for a queer figure was seen coming toward them along the curve of the beach. it was the figure of a strange little old man, bent nearly double under a huge load of something that looked like dry grass. "quack, quack!" said one of the boldest of the ducks, as the old man drew near with his burden. "what have you there?" "oh, that is only a bundle of old songs," replied unktomee with a smile; for it was that sly one, that maker of mischief! [illustration] thereupon the ducks took courage, and quacked and fluttered all about him, crying: "sing us an old song, unktomee!" willingly unktomee threw down his load upon the lake shore, and with the utmost good nature began to build a little teepee of sticks, thatching it with the dry grass. in a few minutes it was done, and he kindly invited the ducks to enter. with rustling wings and shining feathers they crowded into the little teepee until it could hold no more. unktomee was there, too. he stayed by the door, and began to sing: "ishtogmus wachee po! tuwa etowan kin ishtah ne sha kta! (dance with your eyes shut! whoever looks shall have red eyes!)" every one of the foolish ducks shut his eyes tight, and unktomee, as he sang, quietly seized one after another by the neck as they danced in a ring around the teepee, wrung their necks quickly and cast them behind them. not one had a chance to squawk, so cleverly was the work done, and there would soon have been none to listen to the old songs! but after a little a small duck slyly opened his eyes, and saw unktomee wringing the necks of his friends. "fly! fly!" he exclaimed in terror. "he is killing us all!" so all the ducks that were left alive rose up with a mighty rush of wings and a loud clamor of voices. the grass teepee fell to pieces, and the lucky ones flew away; but lying on the ground beside unktomee were enough fat ducks for a fine feast! and the little duck that peeped forever after had red eyes! * * * * * the children liked this story very much, but it was shorter than usual. "tell us about the feast!" they cried. "tell us about the feast of unktomee!" so old smoky day began again: now unktomee wished to make a feast. the first thing he did was to stand and cry aloud: "chagah aoo po-o-o! (somebody bring me a kettle!)" he called and called for a long time. at last somebody appeared with the kettle. it was the fox, who was carrying it in his mouth. unktomee thanked him carelessly, and after waiting awhile, the fox went sadly away again. then unktomee dressed the ducks whose necks he had wrung, built a fire, fetched water and put them on to boil. but he was tired as well as hungry, and while his dinner was cooking, he thought he might as well take a nap. so he lay down in the warm sand near by, first telling his face to be on the watch and to twitch if any one came, so as to awaken him. while unktomee slept, the fox returned with a friend. unktomee's face did not twitch as it had been told to do, for the foxes stroked it very gently, and told it to be quiet. having done this, they quietly ate every bit of the rich meat, and put the bones back into the pot. when at last unktomee yawned and awoke, he was very hungry indeed. he looked to see whether his dinner was ready, and found nothing in the kettle except bones! "ah! the ducks have boiled too long," he said to himself. "the meat will all be in the bottom of the pot." when he discovered that the bones had been picked clean, he was very angry, and scolded his face severely for not awakening him in time. _he who deceives others may himself be caught some day._ tenth evening unktomee and the elk [illustration: tanagela and her little brother.] tenth evening "tell us another story of unktomee, grandfather!" cry several of the children, as soon as they are inside the old story-teller's wigwam on the tenth evening. "ah, i thought you would ask for another!" remarks the old man with quiet satisfaction. "there are many stories of his dealings with the animal people. he loves to go among them and even to take their shape, that he may make fools of them the more easily. this may do very well for a time, but it is generally not long before he is ready to cry 'enough!'" unktomee and the elk it was midsummer, and the elk people were feasting in great numbers upon the slopes of the mountain. sleek, fat and handsome, they browsed hither and thither off the juicy saplings and rich grass, drank their fill from the clear mountain streams, and lay down to rest at their ease in the green shade through the heat of the day. unktomee, who had been travelling far and was hungry and foot-sore, looked upon them with envy. "ah," said he to himself, "that is the life for me! surely these are the happiest people on earth, for they have all things in abundance and are so fleet of foot that they need fear no danger!" accordingly, he hid his bow and quiver full of arrows in a hollow tree, with all of his clothing and other weapons, so that he might appear quite naked and harmless before the timid elk people. they saw that he was unarmed, and they stood still as he approached. "here comes unktomee," said they doubtfully to one another. "ah, brothers!" he pleaded with them, "you have enough; you are at peace with the tribes; you overlook the valley and all its dwellers are below you! none is so happy as you. will you not make me one of you?" "friend!" exclaimed their leader, "you do not know what you ask! to be sure, it is now midsummer; our clothing and our weapons are new, there is food in plenty, and we may seem to be happy. however, our antlers, our only weapons, are yet soft, and the wolf and the wild cat are ready and fearless to attack us. our only hope of escape is in our fleetness, since we are watched all day by the cruel eyes of those who live upon flesh, of whom the most dangerous of all is man!" "i know all this," replied unktomee. "others may have stronger weapons than you, but i see none with your beauty, your stately height, your freedom and ease of life. i beg of you to allow me to share it!" "if you can pass the test, we will admit you," they said at last. "notice our eyes--we must be ever watchful; our ears--they are constantly on guard! can you smell an enemy even against the wind? can you detect his footfall before he is near?" unktomee passed the test and was finally admitted to the company of the elks; in fact, he was made the chief of them all, for such he wanted to be. "now," said they, "we have made you our leader. you must guide us so that we shall be safe from the hunters!" proud of his long limbs and of his stately antlers, he led them all down the hill, running back now and then to urge the hindermost ones into line. when they stopped to rest, he lay down a little apart from the others, under a spreading oak. suddenly they all sprang up and fled, for unktomee had cried out to them: "fly! fly! i am struck by an arrow!" but when no hunter appeared, they were provoked, and grumbled among themselves: "unktomee is deceiving us; it was only a stick that fell from the tree!" then they all lay down a second time, and a second time the elks were aroused in vain. they were still more displeased, and said to one another: "it was only an acorn that fell upon him while he slept!" a third time they lay down, but this time the elks stole away from unktomee and left him sleeping, for they had scented the hunter. when the hunter came, therefore, he found only the chief elk still sleeping, and he let fly an arrow and wounded him severely. unktomee was now in great fear and pain, and he bitterly regretted that he had become an elk, for he had learned that their life is full of anxiety. the elks had taught him that it is well to be content with our own, for there is no life that is free from hardship and danger. eleventh evening the festival of the little people eleventh evening "you are late to-night, my grandchildren," grumbles the good old wife of smoky day, as she stands in front of her low doorway, peering under the folds of her dark blanket at the little toiling figures slowly coming nearer, and the many twinkling lights across the snow. "my mother gave a feast to-day," murmurs tanagela, in her soft voice. "there were so many people for us to serve--i could not come any sooner! but see, grandmother! i have brought you some boiled rice and venison," she ends, proudly bringing out the heavy kettle from under her skin robe as they enter the well-smoked lodge. "ah, ah!" exclaims the story-teller, whose old eyes brighten at the sight of the good food. "we are to feast to-night, it seems; therefore i shall tell you of a feast and what came after." the festival of the little people the big voice of the bumble-bee was heard in every nook and corner of the wood, and from end to end of the deep valley, for unktomee, the generous, was giving a feast, and the bee was his herald, the crier of the day. "ho, every creeper, every buzzer, all ye little people who fly without feathers, come this day to the festival!" boomed the bee. "all must prepare to exhibit their best skill; the toad, who can neither fly nor run, his brother the bullfrog, with his band of musicians, and even the flying-squirrel with the rest. tanagela, the humming-bird, will be the judge of beauty, and the bat will judge your skilful performance in the air. that wise medicine-man, the serpent, will also be there!" so unktomee's herald made the cedar-fringed gulches and pine-scented hilltops fairly hum with his call. it was in july, the moon of black cherries, and the little people gathered in great numbers at the place of the singing waterfall, which had been chosen for the meeting-place. the happy valley buzzed with their million voices. then unktomee, the prudent, saw fit to appoint certain warriors to keep order at the festival. for many were present, therefore mishap or injustice might be. the wolf was ordered to watch upon the surrounding hills, so that no enemy should come near; and the owl was appointed to keep order within the camp, and especially to see that neither the bat, the night-hawk nor the swallow tribe were permitted to disturb the little insect people. the day opened well, with a chorus of praise from the great orchestra--a sunrise song, opened by ta-she-ya-ka, the meadow-lark, in which even the crickets joined, with their slender instruments. then came the contest of beauty, in which the butterflies, in their gauzy dresses of every color, won the first prize. the bat, however, who was to judge of feats on the wing, had slyly made a meal of some of the lesser contestants. the owl swooped down upon him to punish him, and there was great confusion. unktomee could do nothing with his guests. the toad began to devour the smaller creepers, the snake attacked the toad, and even the wolf came down from his station on the hills to make a raid upon the helpless little people. thus began the warfare and preying among these feeble tribes that has lasted to this day. _it is not wise to put the strong in authority over the weak._ twelfth evening eya the devourer twelfth evening "we shall hear to-night of one good deed done by unktomee," begins the old teacher, when all are in their places. "in the old days, longer ago than any one can remember, no one was more feared and dreaded than eya, the glutton, the devouring spirit that went to and fro upon the earth, able to draw all living creatures into his hideous, open mouth! his form was monstrous and terrifying. no one seemed to know what he feared, or how he might be overcome. whole tribes of people were swallowed up by him, and there was no help! "at last came unktomee, and by his quick wit and genial ways got the better of this enemy of our race. he is very hard to kill, for he often comes to life again after he has been left for dead. perhaps by eya is meant the terrible hunger, or the sickness that runs like fire from lodge to lodge and sweeps away whole villages." eya the devourer once upon a time, an old woman who was gathering wood found a lost babe deep in the forest, and bringing him to the camp, gave him to the chief's pretty daughter. the girl, who was very tender-hearted, took the child and cared for him as her own. she fed him often, but he was never satisfied and continually cried for more. when he screamed, his mouth stretched from ear to ear, and far down his red throat she seemed to see a great company of people struggling in confusion. however, she told no one, but patiently tended the strange child and carried him about with her everywhere. at dead of night, when all in the lodge were asleep, the tender-hearted maiden was aroused by the crying of her babe. as she bent over him, there seemed to come from his wide-open mouth, as if from the depths of the earth, the far-off voices of many people in distress. then at last she went and awoke the chief, her father, and said to him: "father, come and listen to the voice of my babe!" he listened for a moment and exclaimed in horror: "my child, this is eya, he who devours all things, even whole villages! this that we hear is the crying of the people whom he has swallowed. now he has taken the form of an innocent babe and is come to destroy us! "we must steal away quietly while he sleeps, and travel fast and far before morning." in whispers they aroused the sleeping people, and all broke camp without disturbing the child, who once more slept in the chief's teepee, which they left still standing. all night they travelled at their best pace, and when morning came, they had come to a wide and deep river. here unktomee, the crafty one, came to meet them, smiling and rubbing his hands. when he had learned what caused the people of a whole village to flee in the night, he kindly offered to help them against their powerful enemy. terrified though they were, they were even then unwilling, for they feared lest he might play some trick upon them; but unktomee persisted, and went back upon their trail to meet the devourer. he had not gone far before he saw eya hastening after the fleeing ones, his ugly mouth gaping widely and his great, unwieldy body supported by a pair of feeble legs that tottered under its weight. "where are you going, younger brother?" asked unktomee, pleasantly. "how dare you call me younger brother?" angrily returned the other. "do you not know that i was the first one created upon the solid earth?" "if that is so, i must be older than you," replied unktomee, in his good-natured way, "for i was created upon the face of the water, before the dry land itself! i know whom you seek, younger brother, and am come out to help you. "those foolish ones whom you are following are encamped on the river close at hand, and i will lead you to them presently. they cannot escape you. why not rest a little now, and refresh yourself with the delicacy that i have prepared for you? see, these are human ears, nicely dried for your meal!" so saying, unktomee pointed to a great heap of mussel shells that lay upon the hill-top. the greedy monster was deceived, and hastily swallowed the shells, which caused him such distress that he was helpless, and was easily dispatched by the men of the village, who now came out to kill him. no sooner had they cut open his enormous body with their knives, than a large company of people issued forth upon the plain, and began dancing and singing songs of praise for their deliverance. thirteenth evening the wars of wa-kee-yan and unk-tay-hee thirteenth evening "were you not frightened last night, grandfather?" exclaims waola, the boldest of the boys, before the little circle has fairly settled into quiet. "thunder in the moon of sore eyes is not heard so often! my little sister cried bitterly, and uncle says that it is an omen of misfortune." "so it would have seemed to me once, my grandson," replies the old sage, with his pleasant smile. "but i am an old man, and i have heard the thunder-bird speak even more loudly, both in season and out of season, yet no evil came of it to our people. truly i think that the great mystery has set bounds to the terrors of these his warriors, so that we need not tremble before them as in the old days, when their laws were not fully known. "there is a very old story concerning these matters, which i will tell you to-night." the wars of wa-kee-yan and unk-tay-hee wa-kee-yan is the great bird of storm and tempest, who was appointed in the beginning of things to keep the earth and also the upper air pure and clean. although there is sometimes death and destruction in his path, yet he is a servant of the great mystery and his work is good. yet he rules only one half the year. the other half is ruled by wa-zee-yah, the spirit of cold, and he too purifies the air and the water. when wa-zee-yah, the north wind, the cold-maker, comes, the animals put on thicker robes and some even change their color to be like the white blanket that he lays over the earth. then the waters are imprisoned for a season, and all things sleep and rest. then comes he-yo-kah, the south-wind, also called the fool-wind, he who is the herald of the thunder-bird and causes all the trees and the plains to put on their garments of green. for ages there had been war between the thunder-bird, the ruler of the upper air, and the water monster, or unk-tay-hee, the ruler of the deep. whenever a black cloud appeared in the sky and cast its threatening shadow upon the water, all the fishes knew it for a warning to descend to the floor of their watery abode, the deep, dark realm, away from the power of his arrows. even the sea birds must seek their sheltered coves and hiding-places, pull tight their downy blankets and be still, for now wa-kee-yan would sweep sea and air with his mighty wing, and punish the disobedient. all was quiet before his approach. his breath was the tempest, the roll of the thunder his drum-beat, the lightning's flash his tomahawk. at his approach, the face of the deep was thrown into a mighty commotion. column after column of white warriors advanced boldly upon the land, and broke upon the rocky shores with a loud war-whoop. such was the combat of the spirits of air and water, at which all living creatures hid themselves and trembled. at last the great peace-maker, the sun, appeared, holding in his hand the rainbow, like a flag of many colors, a sign that the battle is over. he sent each of the warriors to his own place. gentle airs came down from above to meet and play with the little waves that danced upon the blue water. he who is our father, the father of our bodies, whose wife is our mother the earth, wishes safety and peace for all his children, therefore he still watches the unruly ones from the middle of the sky, and their battles are quickly ended. fourteenth evening the little boy man fourteenth evening "i shall now tell you of the first man, and how he came upon earth as an infant, yet without father or mother. listen well, my children, for you should never forget this story." the little boy man at the beginning of things, he-who-was-first-created found himself living alone. the earth was here before him, clothed in green grass and thick forests, and peopled with the animal tribes. then all these spoke one language, and the lonely one was heralded by them everywhere as he roamed to and fro over the world, both upon dry land and in the depths of the sea. one day, when he returned to his teepee from a long wandering, he felt a pain in his left foot, and lo! a splinter in the great toe! drawing out the splinter, he tossed it upward through the smoke-hole of the lodge. he could hear it roll and rattle down over the birch-bark covering, and in the instant that it touched the ground, there arose the cry of a new-born child! he-who-was-first-created at once came forth and took up the infant, who was the boy man, the father of the human race here upon earth. now the little boy man grew and flourished, and was perfectly happy under the wise guidance of his friend and elder brother. although he had neither father nor mother, and only animals for playmates, it is said that no child born of human parents has ever led so free and happy a life as he. in those days, there was peace between the animals and the boy man. sometimes they challenged him to friendly contests, whereupon he-who-was-first-created taught his little brother how to outwit them by clever tricks and devices. this he was often able to do; but not always; for sometimes the animals by their greater strength finally overcame him. one morning the boy man went out from his lodge as usual to the day's occupations, but did not return at night nor for many nights afterward. he-who-was-first-created mourned and wailed long for the lost one. at last he became angry, and set out to look for the bones of his brother. he travelled from east to west across the world, but found no trace of the one he sought, and all of the land creatures whom he questioned declared that they had not seen him pass by. next he followed the rivers, and the shores of the great lakes, and there one day he heard an old woman singing as she cut down a tree at the edge of the water. the traveller came closer to hear the words of the song; and lo! it was a song of the scalp-dance, and in it she spoke the name of the lost boy man. he-who-was-first-created now turned himself into a king-fisher, and so approached unsuspected and talked with the old beaver-woman. from her he learned that his younger brother had been enticed into the great water and destroyed by the monster of the deep, unk-tay-hee. thereupon he went down to the shore and changed himself into a tall pine overlooking the lake. for many moons he-who-was-first-created remained thus, until at last he beheld two huge forms rising up in the midst of the waves. the monsters glided gradually toward the shore and lay basking in the sun at his feet, rocking gently with the motion of the quiet water. it was old unk-tay-hee and his mate. [illustration] "husband!" exclaimed the wife of unk-tay-hee, "for ages this has been our resting-place, and yet i have never seen this tree before!" "woman, the tree has always been there!" returned the water monster. "but i am sure it was not here before," she insisted. then unk-tay-hee wound his immense scaly tail about the giant pine and tried to pull it out by the roots. the water foamed and boiled with his struggles, but he-who-was-first-created stood firm, and at last the monster gave up the attempt. "there," he declared, "i told you it had always been there!" his wife appeared satisfied, and presently the gentle waves rocked them both to sleep. then he-who-was-first-created returned to his own shape, and with his long spear he stabbed each of the monsters, so that with groans of pain they dove down to their homes at the bottom of the great lake, and the waters boiled above them, and the foam was red with their blood. fifteenth evening the return of the little boy man fifteenth evening grandfather has scarcely taken up his long pipe to-night before the children begin to gather, impatient for the end of the story. chatanna has been begging his father to tell him whether the little boy man was ever found, but he has been obliged to wait for the old man to go on with his tale. the return of the little boy man he-who-was-first-created now took the form of a swallow, and flew down from the high cliffs, skimming over the surface of the water. within a sheltered cove among the pines, the water-birds were holding a least. some were singing, some dancing, and that great medicine-man, the loon, was among them, blowing his sacred whistle. the lonely one in the form of a swallow dipped down to the water's edge and addressed the loon respectfully, asking for some of the secrets of his medicine. the loon was very kind. he taught him several mystery songs, and showed him how to treat the sick. "now," said the swallow, "if you will permit me to take your form for a short time, i will go down into the deep and try to cure unk-tay-hee and his wife of their dreadful wounds!" the loon made no objection, so the new-made conjurer balanced himself upon the crest of a wave and gave his loudest call before he dove down, down into the blue water! there in the watery world the people saw him as it were sailing down from the sky. his path led now through a great forest of sea weeds, now upon the broad plains, and finally he came into a deep valley of the under-world, where he found everybody anxiously waiting for him. he was met by the old turtle, who begged him to make haste, for the chief and his wife were in great agony. "let all the people retire, for i must be alone in order to work a cure," declared the supposed medicine-man, as he entered the teepee of the water monster. all went away unwillingly--the turtle last of all. he told the others that he had heard the great conjurer whisper as his hand touched the door-flap; "ah, my poor brother!" now this door-flap was made from the skin of the little boy man. he-who-was-first-created, when he was inside the lodge, paid no attention to the dreadful groans of the monsters, but at once took down the skin of his brother, and as he did so, he saw the little water-snake spying at him from behind the doorway. the others, who were suspicious, had sent him as a scout to see what the medicine-man was doing. he called the snake inside, and compelled him to tell where he should find the bones of his brother. then for a reward he painted the snake green, and declared that as he had served both sides, he should crawl upon his belly forever after. he-who-was-first-created gathered up all the bones and took them with him to dry land. there he immediately built a fire and heated stones for the first sweat lodge. he also picked a bunch of sage-brush, and fetched water in a large shell. having carefully wrapped the bones with the dry skin of his brother and built over them a low shelter of willow withes, he covered the lodge tightly with green boughs and then thrust in his right arm and began to sprinkle water with the bunch of sage upon the heated stones. the steam arose and filled the lodge, and with the steam there came a faint sighing sound. a second time he sprinkled water, and there were rustlings within as if the dry bones were gathering themselves together. when he put in his hand for the third time he could hear a sound like far-off singing. immediately after the little boy man spoke in his own voice, begging to be let out of the lodge. sixteenth evening the first battle sixteenth evening "this is a very long story that i am telling you," declares smoky day, "and many evenings will not see the end of it. there are some adventures of the little boy man that must wait for another winter. to-night i will tell you how it happened that the old friendship was broken between man and the animal people." the first battle now after some time it came about that the animals became jealous of the greater wit of the boy man, and as they feared that he would somehow gain the mastery over them, they began secretly to plot against him. at about the same time the boy man began to question his elder brother, and to ask him: "brother, why have all these people weapons, such as spears upon their heads and daggers in their mouths, while i am unarmed and naked?" then he-who-was-first-created replied sadly: "my younger brother, the time is now come to give you weapons and i am sorry for it. now at last there is war in the hearts of the animals and of man; but they are many and you are only one, therefore i shall help you!" then he gave him a strong bow and arrows with flint heads, also a spear with head of stone, and showed him how to use them. afterward he tossed a pebble into the air, and it came down as a wall of rock, enclosing their dwelling. he tossed up another and another, until they were defended by high cliffs on every side. upon the flat tops of the cliffs he spread out the new weapons, whose stone heads were destined to be scattered far and wide when the battle should be over, to be sought out and preserved by men as relics of the beginning of warfare. the first battle was announced by a single buffalo-bull, running at top speed over the prairie. this messenger assigned to each his part in the attack. the beaver was ordered to dam the streams, and the badger to dig trenches under the defences of the boy man, so that they might flood his dwelling. the rabbits, squirrels and other feeble folk were to gather food for the warriors, of whom the principal ones were the bear, wolf, wildcat and bison. the swallow served as messenger to the birds, and the swift trout carried the news to the finny tribes, for all were to join in this war. with the gray dawn came the wolf's long howl, the first war-whoop, breaking the silence and peace of the world. when the sun rose, dancing for an instant upon the sharp edge of the sky, one after another all of the animals joined in the great war-cry, with bellowings and screechings of the larger beasts, the barking of wolves, the hissing of snakes, and the shrill cries of the feathered ones, of whom the crane and the loon were loudest. the boy man stood erect on the top of the wall, and saw the warriors coming from all directions, as far as the eye could reach. on they came, with a mighty thunder of hoofs and a trampling of many feet! overhead that great war-chief of the air, the eagle, commanded his winged forces, while from below the creepers and crawlers began to scale the lofty defences of the boy man. there he stood alone, and fearlessly let fly hundreds of sharp arrows, of which every one found its mark, until the ground was choked with the fallen. presently there descended upon him great hosts of the smaller winged people, who also had been provided with sharp and poisonous weapons. against these his elder brother had forgotten to warn him; but now he was told in haste to strike two flints together and to catch the spark that should come in the dry fallen leaves. soon a great cloud of smoke and flames arose toward heaven, not only driving off the little winged warriors, but forcing the whole body of the enemy to retreat in confusion, for they had never seen fire before, and to this day it is feared by all and used by man only. thus the animals were convinced that man is their master. when they sued for peace, all agreed to give him of their flesh for food and their skins for clothing, while he on his side promised never to kill any wantonly. the boy man further agreed that they might keep their weapons to use in their own defence. this was the first treaty made upon earth. seventeenth evening the beloved of the sun seventeenth evening "grandfather, is not the night beautiful after the long storm?" whispers tanagela shyly. "the moon always seems to me like a beautiful woman, for she often hides her round, shining face with a blanket of cloud, and sometimes she even runs away from us altogether, as if she were tired or displeased. but to-night she smiles and uncovers her face, so that all the young men are out, each playing upon his flute near the home of the loved one!" the little maid does not often make so long a speech, and she too hides her face as she comes to the end. but grandfather smiles indulgently upon his favorite, as he answers: "and did you not know, then, that she is a woman, my granddaughter? truly it is time that i told you of these things!" the beloved of the sun there was once a man and his wife and two children who had gone away from the rest of the tribe and were living by themselves. one day the man went out hunting as usual, but evening came and he did not return. the next day his wife went to look for him, and neither did she come back to the lodge. thus it came about that the young brother and sister were left alone, but they were not unhappy. the boy was a strong and well-grown lad, and he brought home abundance of meat, while the girl cooked his food, tanned the skins and made all of their moccasins and clothing. they had been living thus for many moons, when very early one morning, soon after her brother had left her for the hunt, the girl's eyes were dazzled by a sudden flash of light, and at the same instant a tall and beautiful young man entered the lodge. she thought at first that her brother had come back, so great was the likeness; but he did not act like him, for his manner was that of a suitor. he remained for some time, but left before the brother returned. now the young man saw at once that his sister seemed to be troubled and embarrassed about something. he questioned her, and she hung her head in silence. three times this happened, and on the third day she told him all. "to-morrow," said he, "i will set out as usual early in the morning, but i shall not go far. if your visitor comes, keep him until i return." accordingly the next day the brother went a little way from home and hid himself in a hollow tree from which he could watch their dwelling. soon after the girl's lover appeared, he returned to the lodge and at once fell upon the stranger, for he was very angry. for some time they wrestled together in silence, and neither was able to gain the mastery over the other. finally, however, the brother felt that he was being overcome, and he cried out: "sister, help, help!" the girl did not know what to do, but she seized her axe and was about to strike one of the young men when he cried out: "take care, sister!" then she raised her axe against the other, but he too exclaimed: "take care, sister!" she became more and more bewildered, for the two looked so much alike that it was impossible to tell which one was really her brother. at last, however, she made up her mind to strike at the stranger, but like a flash of light he eluded her and spoke: "my friend, do not try to resist me any longer! i came not to harm you or this maiden, but to make her my wife! know that i am the sun, and she shall be the moon and rule over the night if she will come with me!" "upon this the maiden yielded and went with him," said grandfather; "but you see that she will not shine every night, for she was only a mortal maiden and is soon wearied. you know we call the sun our grandfather and the moon grandmother, and we also believe that the stars are their children. some time i shall tell you how a star, too, loved an earthly maid." eighteenth evening wood-chopper and berry-picker eighteenth evening "a long time ago," says the old story-teller, "man was nearer the animal people than he is to-day; they even spoke the same language and seemed to understand one another perfectly. sometimes he loved and married among them, but his children were not so good and noble as the first man. there was something of the animal in them. "there are many stories of this sort, but some of them are long and hard to understand. perhaps you have heard of tidoona and tankadoona, the indoor one and the outdoor one, in which the little boy is half-brother to a bear cub and they meet and play together in secret. to-night, however, i will tell you another story." wood-chopper and berry-picker in the old days, when men and animals spoke one language, a young man who had grown tired of living alone set out to look for a wife. he had not travelled far when he came to a stream of clear water which had been dammed to make a small, round pond. on the shore of the pond was a neat, dome-shaped lodge, and just outside the lodge a pretty woman was busily chopping wood. the young man stood for some time watching her from behind a tree. being pleased with her looks and especially with her industry, he presently showed himself, and the girl, whose name was beaver-woman, received him so kindly that in a short time they had decided to marry and go to house-keeping. when their little boy came, the proud father wished to take him back and show him to his own people, but to this his wife would not consent. "if you must return," said she, "very well; but we cannot go with you!" so the young man, who had a great longing to see again the faces of his kinsfolk, left them behind and journeyed to his father's village. he made them a short visit, and then hastened back to his own home. alas, there was no home there! the lodge was destroyed, the dam broken, the pond itself gone, the singing brook was only a thin trickle of water, and his wife and son were nowhere to be found! the unhappy young man lay upon the ground, mourning for his lost wife and little boy, until a handsome young woman dressed all in black came out of the woods. she supposed that he must be faint for want of food, so she brought him sweet roots and berries. when he had eaten, she kindly combed his hair and washed his face, and after he was refreshed, she comforted him with loving words and caresses, so that he soon forgot the beaver-woman and took her to be his wife. together they went to look for a home. the young man chose a beautiful open spot overlooking much country, but his wife, whose name was berry-picker, laughed at him, saying: "our people never live in such an open place as that!" she chose a sheltered spot at the foot of the hill, and there they began to hollow out a comfortable dwelling under the upturned roots of an old fallen tree. when berry-picker, the bear wife, sent her husband out to look for bedding, he brought in much dry grass; but the bear wife reproved him, saying: "why, husband! you expose our home to the eyes of all!" all about their lodge were bare spots where he had pulled the grass, so they had to find a new place in which to live. at last the pair were snug and warm for the winter, and as it was now time to go to sleep, they did so, and slept until they were aroused by the barking of a dog and the footsteps of a hunter on the crisp snow. the bear wife struck the roof of her house, and a partridge flew up out of the snow with a great whirring of wings. the dog followed the partridge and the hunter followed the dog. when the hunter came for the second time, she started a rabbit, which drew the dog away, and he drew away the hunter. but when he persisted, and came back for the third time, she left her home and ran for her life, leaving her husband to follow as best he could. [illustration] he ran on and on, following his wife's tracks in the deep snow, until he came to a little hut where lived an old bear. "where are you going, my son?" inquired the old man. "oh," he replied, "i am only travelling for pleasure!" "do not try to deceive me," said the old bear. "i know well whom you seek! berry-picker passed this way only yesterday, on her way to rejoin her people." "and where do her people live?" asked the young husband. "they live not far away, my son; but be on your guard; they are a deceitful people and will give you much trouble!" thanking the old man, he hurried on, and soon came to the village of the bears. it was a large village, and the people seemed to have plenty to eat and to be very merry, for they were singing and dancing. as the stranger drew near, every young woman in the great camp came running to meet him. they all looked alike, for every one was dressed in glossy black and all were plump and handsome, and they all crowded about him as if to embrace him, crying: "welcome home, my husband!" now the young man became very angry, for he knew that the bears were trying to deceive him, and that if he did not know his own wife, they would take his life. he took no notice of any of the young women, but turned his back on the village and went home to his own country. this story is told for a warning to those who wish to marry among strangers. nineteenth evening the son-in-law nineteenth evening "tell us, grandfather, who is chanotedah?" bursts out waola even before the children are fairly seated. "uncle told me to-day when i was hunting to beware of the little man of the woods, for if i should meet him i might lose my way and never smell the camp fire again! but when i asked where he was to be found, and how i should know him, he only laughed at me and went on making arrows." "this chanotedah is indeed a mischievous fellow," explains the good old man. "he is no larger than a three-year-old child, and is covered with hair. his home is in a hollow tree, and his weapons are the brilliantly colored feathers of gay birds. he delights in confusing the lone hunter who is so unlucky as to come upon him in the depths of the forest. that you may know why this little man has a grudge against our race, i will tell you a story." the son-in-law once upon a time there was a young girl whose parents had been taken by the enemy, and who lived alone with her elder brother in the forest, without kinsfolk or neighbors. the young man was a clever hunter who provided more than enough for their needs, and the sister kept his lodge in order and his moccasins well mended, so that for a long time they lived happily together without other company. a day came, however, when the young man wished to go upon a journey and to see something of the world. he therefore called upon the little man of the woods, chanotedah, and begged him to look after his sister during his absence. he then took his bow and quiver full of arrows, and set out to discover strange countries. the traveller met with no adventures until the third day, when he saw several boys playing outside the entrance to their dwelling, which appeared to be merely a cave in the side of a hill. "here comes our brother-in-law!" they cried, and all ran back into the cave. the young man was curious to know what this meant, and he went boldly in. opposite the door of the cave there sat a handsome young woman, while her father and mother were seated upon either side of the fire. the old man at once arose and greeted the stranger. "ho, my son-in-law!" he exclaimed; whereupon the old wife served him with food and waited upon him hospitably. it appeared, however, that the young woman was kindly disposed toward this good-looking youth, for she soon contrived to warn him secretly of her father's intentions toward him. "when my father takes you hunting with him," she said, "you must take care always to keep behind him. if he tells you to follow any animal, do not do so, but shoot it from where you stand!" next day the old man invited his guest to hunt, and by and by they saw a white marten in the wood. "chase it, chase it, son-in-law!" exclaimed the old man, but the youth stood still and killed the creature with an arrow from his quiver. alas, it was no marten, but one of the boys whom he had seen playing outside the cave! [illustration: do not shoot a white deer when you see him coming toward you] the next day a white magpie flew across the path, and the old man again called on his guest to follow. he stopped and aimed an arrow instead, which pierced the second boy to the heart. "do not shoot a white deer when you see him coming toward you," begged the girl of her lover on the third morning, for she wished to save her youngest brother's life. the young man spared the deer, and the last of the boys came home unhurt; but he himself remembered her warning and took care to keep behind, so that the old man had no chance to kill him. "ah, my son-in-law, you have beaten me! take my daughter; she is now your wife," he said to the young man, who thereupon took his wife home to his own lodge, and his brother-in-law whose life he had spared he took with them to be husband to his sister. the little man of the woods had guarded the girl safely, but meanwhile he had fallen in love with her and desired to marry her. being refused, he went away angry and hid in a hollow tree, where he still lives, and all who walk alone in the forest fear to meet him, for he wishes nothing so much as to do a mischief to the descendants of the sister and brother. twentieth evening the comrades twentieth evening "there is another bad character of whom we have all heard, and some of us have met him," begins the teacher. "his name tells you what he is. he has two faces; one he shows at first when he wishes to be agreeable and has some object to gain; but as soon as he is found out he turns the ugly, scowling face upon you. "remember, children, you should not keep two faces--a pleasant one for strangers and a cross face to show when you are at home! try to imitate the heroes of old, the great and good and helpful, such as the stone boy, the star boy, the avenger, he who wears the white plume, and he who shot the red eagle! if i should be spared to live another winter, i will tell you of them all. to-night we will hear the pleasant story of mashtinna and his brother-friend." the comrades mashtinna, the rabbit, was a handsome young man, and, moreover, of a kind disposition. one day, when he was hunting, he heard a child crying bitterly, and made all haste in the direction of the sound. on the further side of the wood he found one tormenting a baby boy with whips and pinches, laughing heartily meanwhile and humming a mother's lullaby. "what do you mean by abusing this innocent child?" demanded the rabbit; but the other showed a smiling face and replied pleasantly: "you do not know what you are talking about! the child is fretful, and i am merely trying to quiet him." mashtinna was not deceived, for he had guessed that this was double-face, who delights in teasing the helpless ones. "give the boy to me!" he insisted; so that double-face became angry, and showed the other side of his face, which was black and scowling. "the boy is mine," he declared, "and if you say another word i shall treat you as i have treated him!" upon this, mashtinna fitted an arrow to the string, and shot the wicked one through the heart. he then took the child on his arm and followed the trail to a small and poor teepee. there lived an old man and his wife, both of them blind and nearly helpless, for all of their children and grandchildren, even to the smallest and last, had been lured away by wicked double-face. "ho, grandfather, grandmother! i have brought you back the child!" exclaimed the rabbit, as he stood in the doorway. but the poor, blind old people had so often been deceived by that heartless double-face that they no longer believed anything; therefore they both cried out: "ugh, you liar! we don't believe a word you say! get away with you, do!" since they refused to take the child, and it was now almost night, the kind-hearted young man wrapped the boy in his own blanket and lay down with him to sleep. the next morning, when he awoke, he found to his surprise that the child had grown up during the night and was now a handsome young man, so much like him that they might have been twin brothers. "my friend, we are now comrades for life!" exclaimed the strange youth. "we shall each go different ways in the world, doing all the good we can; but if either is ever in need of help let him call upon the other and he will come instantly to his aid!" the other agreed, and they set out in opposite directions. not long after, the rabbit heard a loud groaning and crying as of some person in great pain. when he reached the spot, he found a man with his body wedged tightly in the forks of a tree, which the wind swayed to and fro. he could not by any means get away, and was in great misery. "i will take your place, brother!" exclaimed the generous young man, upon which the tree immediately parted, and the tree-bound was free. mashtinna took his place and the tree closed upon him like a vise and pinched him severely. the pain was worse than he had supposed, but he bore it as long as he could without crying out. sweat beaded his forehead and his veins swelled to bursting; at last he could endure it no longer, and called loudly upon his comrade to help him. at once the young man appeared and struck the tree so that it parted and mashtinna was free. he kept on his journey until he spied a small wigwam quite by itself on the edge of a wood. lifting the door-flap, he saw no one but an old blind man, who greeted him thankfully. "ho, my grandson! you see me, i am old and poor. all the day i see no one. when i wish to drink, this raw-hide lariat leads me to the stream near by. when i need dry sticks for my fire, i follow this other rope and feel my way among the trees. i have food enough, for these bags are packed with dried meat for my use. but alas, my grandson, i am all alone here, and i am blind!" "take my eyes, grandfather!" at once exclaimed the kind-hearted young man. "you shall go where you will, and i will remain here in your place." "ho, ho, my grandson, you are very good!" replied the old man, and he gladly took the eyes of the rabbit and went out into the world. the youth stayed behind, and as he was hungry, he ate of the dried meat in the bags. this made him very thirsty, so he took hold of the raw-hide rope and followed it to the stream; but as he stooped to the brink, the rope broke and mashtinna fell in. the water was cold and the bank slippery, but after a hard struggle he got out again and made his way back to the teepee, dripping wet and very miserable. wishing to make a fire and dry his clothes, he seized the other rope and went to the wood for sticks. however, when he began to gather the sticks he lost the rope, and being quite blind he did nothing but stumble over fallen logs, and bruise himself against the trunks of trees, and scratch his face among the briers and brambles, until at last he could bear it no longer, and cried out to his comrade to come to his aid. instantly the youth appeared and gave him back his eyes, saying at the same time: "friend, be not so rash in future! it is right to help those who are in trouble, but one must also consider whether he himself is able to hold out to the end." twenty-first evening the laugh-maker twenty-first evening "you remember the young man who married among the bear people," begins grandfather. "now to us the bear seems at times almost human; he can stand and even walk erect; he will cry and groan very like a man when hurt, and there are those who say that he laughs. in the old stories the bears are a powerful nation; and there is a young man, perhaps the same one i told you of before, who is said to have been living among them at one time with his wife, woshpee, and their little son." the laugh-maker the village of the bears was a large one, and the people were well-fed and prosperous. upon certain days, a herald went the round of the lodges, announcing in a loud voice that the time had come to "go a-laughing." not a bear was left in the village at such times, for every one went, old and young, sick and well, the active and the lame. only the stranger remained at home, although his wife, woshpee, always went with her kinsfolk, for somehow he did not feel inclined to "go a-laughing;" and he kept with him his little son, who was half bear and half human. one day, however, a curiosity seized him to know what this laughing business might be. he took his boy and followed the bears at a distance, not choosing to be seen. their trail led to the shore of the great water, and when he had come as near as he could without exposing himself, he climbed a tall pine from whose bushy top he could observe all that took place. the gathering of the bears was on a deep bay that jutted inland. its rocky shores were quite black with them, and as soon as all had become quiet, an old bear advanced to the water's edge and called in a loud voice: "e-ha-we-cha-ye-la, e-ha-un-he-pee lo! (laugh-maker, we are come to laugh!)" when he had called four times, a small object appeared in the midst of the water and began to swim toward the shore. by and by the strange creature sprawled and clambered out upon a solitary rock that stood partly above the water. the laugh-maker was hairless and wrinkled like a new-born child; it had the funniest feet, or hands, or flippers, with which it tried to walk, but only tumbled and flopped about. in the water it was graceful enough, but on dry land so ungainly and ridiculous that the vast concourse of bears was thrown into fits of hysterical laughter. "ha, ha, ha! waugh, waugh!" they roared, lifting their ugly long muzzles and opening their gaping jaws. some of them could no longer hold on to the boughs of the trees, or the rocks on which they had perched, and came tumbling down on the heads of the crowd, adding much to the fun. every motion of the little "laugh-maker" produced fresh roars of immoderate laughter. at last the bears grew weak and helpless with laughing. hundreds of them sprawled out upon the sand, quite unable to rise. then the old man again advanced and cried out: "e-ha-we-cha-ye-la, wan-na e-ha un-ta-pe ktay do! (laugh-maker, we are almost dead with laughing!)" upon this the little creature swam back into deep water and disappeared. now the stranger was not at all amused and in fact could see nothing to laugh at. when all the bears had got up and dispersed to their homes he came down from the tree with his little son, and the child wished to imitate his great-grandfather bear. he went out alone on the sandy beach and began to call in his piping voice: "laugh-maker, we are come to laugh!" when he had called four times, the little creature again showed its smooth black head above the water. "ha, ha, ha! why don't you laugh, papa? it is so funny!" the boy cried out breathlessly. but his father looked on soberly while the thing went through all its usual antics, and the little boy laughed harder and harder, until at last he rolled and rolled on the sandy beach, almost dead with laughter. "papa," he gasped, "if you do not stop this funny thing i shall die!" then the father picked up his bow and strung it. he gave one more look at his boy, who was gasping for breath; then he fitted a sharp arrow to the bow and pierced the little laugh-maker to the heart. he went out and took the skin, and they returned in silence to the camp of the bears. now the next time that the herald called upon the bears to "go a-laughing," the skin of the laugh-maker was almost dry, but they knew nothing of it. they went away as usual, and left the young man alone with his son. but he, knowing that his wife's kinsfolk would kill him when they discovered what he had done, took the skin for a quiver and went homeward with his child. twenty-second evening the runaways twenty-second evening "some say," remarks grandfather, "that the hero of the story i am about to tell you is the same as the kind-hearted young man of whom you heard not long ago--mashtinna, the rabbit. you will remember that he was uncommonly handsome as well as generous. this time he falls in love, and there is a wicked old woman in the way; but you will learn some day that true love is able to defy and to outwit all its enemies!" the runaways there was once a young man who had journeyed a long way from home in search of adventure. one day he came to a strange village on the border of a great wood, but while yet some distance from the lodges, he happened to glance upward. in the boughs of a tree just above his head he saw a light scaffold, and on the scaffold a maiden sitting at her needle-work. instead of boldly entering the village, as he had intended, the youth walked on a little way, then turned and again passed under the tree. he did this several times, and each time he looked up, for the girl was the prettiest that he had ever seen. he did not show himself to the people, but for several days he lingered on the borders of the wood, and at last he ventured to speak with the maiden and to ask her to be his wife. she did not seem to be at all unwilling; however, she said to him: "you must be very careful, for my grandmother does not wish me to marry. she is a very wicked old woman, and has thus far succeeded in killing every one of my suitors." "in that case, we must run away," the young man replied. "to-night, when your grandmother is asleep, pull up some of the tent-pins and come out. i shall be waiting for you!" the girl did as he had said, and that same night they fled together and by morning were far from the village. however, the maiden kept looking over her shoulder as if fearing pursuit, and at last her lover said to her: "why do you continue to look behind you? they will not have missed you until daylight, and it is quite certain now that no one can overtake us!" "ah," she replied, "my grandmother has powerful magic! she can cover a whole day's journey at one step, and i am convinced that she is upon our trail." "in that case, you shall see that i too know something of magic," returned the young man. forthwith he threw down one of his mittens, and lo! their trail was changed to the trail of a buffalo. he threw down the other mitten, and it became the carcass of a buffalo lying at the end of the trail. "she will follow thus far and no farther," he declared; but the maiden shook her head, and ceased not from time to time to glance over her shoulder as they hastened onward. in truth it was not long till she perceived the old woman in the distance, coming on with great strides and shaking her cane and her gray head at the runaways. "now it is my turn!" the girl exclaimed, and threw down her comb, which became a thick forest behind the fleeing ones, so that the angry old woman was held back by the dense underbrush. when she had come out of the forest at last and was again gaining upon them, the girl threw her awl over her shoulder and it became a chain of mountains with high peaks and sharp precipices, so that the grandmother was kept back longer than before. nevertheless, her magic was strong, and she still struggled on after the lovers. in the meantime, they had come to the bank of a river both wide and deep, and here they stood for a while doubting how they should cross, for there was neither boat nor ford. however, there were two cranes near by, and to these the young man addressed himself. "my friends," said he, "i beg of you to stand on the opposite banks of this river and stretch your necks across, so that we may cross in safety! only do this, and i will give to each of you a fine ornament for your breast, and long fringes on your leggings, so that you will hereafter be called the handsomest of birds!" [illustration] the cranes were willing to oblige, and they stood thus with their beaks touching over the stream, so that the lovers crossed on their long necks in safety. "now," exclaimed the young man, "i must ask of you one more favor! if an old woman should come down to the river and seek your help, place your heads together once more as if to allow her to cross, but when she is half way over you must draw back and let her fall in mid-stream. do this, and i promise you that you shall never be in want!" in a little while the old woman came down to the river, quite out of breath, and more angry than before. as soon as she noticed the two cranes, she began to scold and order them about. "come here, you long-necks, you ungainly creatures, come and help me over this river!" she cried. the two cranes again stood beak to beak, but when the wicked grandmother had crossed half way they pulled in their necks and into the water she went, screaming out threats and abuse as she whirled through the air. the current swept her quickly away and she was drowned, for there is no magic so strong that it will prevail against true love. twenty-third evening the girl who married the star twenty-third evening "ah, here is our little humming-bird, always the first to raise the door-flap!" is the old teacher's pleasant greeting. "that is because i do not want to lose one word of your good stories, grandfather," murmurs the little maiden, with her pretty, upward glance and bashful smile. "i have one for you to-night that ought to please you," he answers thoughtfully. "you know the shining star people in the heavens above us--you have gazed upon them and doubtless dreamed that you were among them. we believe them to be a higher race than ours. listen, then, to my story." the girl who married the star there were once two sisters who lived alone in an uninhabited place. this was a long time ago, when the tribes upon earth were few, and the animal people were friendly to man. the name of one of the girls was earth, and the other was called water. all their food was brought to them by their animal friends. the bears supplied them with nuts, berries and wild turnips, and the bees brought combs dripping with honey. they ate no flesh, for that would be to take life. they dwelt in a lodge made of birch-bark, and their beds were mats woven of rushes. one clear, summer night the girls lay awake upon their beds, looking up through the smoke-hole of their wigwam and telling one another all their thoughts. "sister," said the earth, "i have seen a handsome young man in my dreams, and it seemed to me that he came from up yonder!" "i too have seen a man in my dreams," replied her sister, "and he was a great brave." "do you not think these bright stars above us are the sky men of whom we have dreamed?" suggested the earth. "if that is true, sister, and it may be true," said the water, "i choose that brightest star for my husband!" "and i," declared her sister, "choose for my husband that little twinkling star!" by and by the sisters slept; and when they awoke, they found themselves in the sky! the husband of the elder sister who had chosen the bright star was an old warrior with a shining name, but the husband of the younger girl was a fine-looking young man, who had as yet no great reputation. the star men were kind to their wives, who lived very happily in their new home. one day they went out to dig wild turnips, and the old warrior said to his wife: "when you are digging, you must not hit the ground too hard!" the younger man also warned his wife, saying: "do not hit the ground too hard!" however, the earth forgot, and in her haste she struck the ground so hard with the sharp-pointed stick with which she dug turnips, that the floor of the sky was broken and she fell through. two very old people found the poor girl lying in the meadow. they kindly made for her a little wigwam of pine boughs, and brought ferns for her bed. the old woman nursed her as well as she could, but she did nothing but wail and cry. "let me go to him!" she begged. "i cannot live without my husband!" night came, and the stars appeared in the sky as usual. only the little twinkling star did not appear, for he was now a widower and had painted his face quite black. the poor wife waited for him a long time, but he did not come, because he could not. at last she slept, and dreamed she saw a tiny red star in the sky that had not been there before. "ah!" said she, "that is red star, my son!" in the morning she found at her side a pretty little boy, a star boy, who afterward grew to be a handsome young man and had many adventures. his guides by night through the pathless woods were the star children of his mother's sister, his cousins in the sky. twenty-fourth evening north wind and star boy twenty-fourth evening "hun, hun, hay! old man wazeya, the north wind, is again on the war-path! you are brave children to come out to-night! see, he shakes his downy feather robe, and the little snow-flakes fly fast and faster! he gives his war-whoop, and cowards seek the safe shelter of their own wigwams. you are no cowards, i am sure of that, so i shall tell you of the battle between wazeya and one of our great heroes, the son of a mortal maiden and a star." north wind and star boy in the very old days at the beginning of things, star boy went about the world as a champion, defending all feeble folk against the attacks of their enemies. the champion was so strong that he could not bend his bow of wood without breaking it, therefore he armed himself with a bone bow, a bone knife and a stone war-club. one day, he came to the village of the frogs, who poured out of their lodges to meet him and set before him food, but no water. "he who goes to the water," said they, "never returns. a great warrior lies there who has swallowed many of us alive, and now we are perishing of thirst!" star boy himself was so thirsty that after he had eaten, he went down to the water, and was instantly swallowed by tamahay, the pickerel. but with his bone knife he slashed the pickerel in the gills and escaped; after which he warned the big fish, saying: "be careful how you wantonly destroy this people, for some day they will be used to destroy you!" [illustration: star boy attacked by hinhan, the owl. _page _] he then went on his way, as far as another village of little people, who complained that they had no fire-wood. "we dare not go to the wood any more," they said, "for there a fierce warrior lives who swoops down from above and devours us!" star boy at once went to the wood, where he was attacked by hinhan, the owl. him he easily conquered with his stone war-club. "because of your cruelty," he said to the owl, "the sun shall blind you hereafter, so that you can hunt only in the dark, when the mouse people are advised to take to their holes and hiding-places." now star boy travelled northward, until he had reached the very northernmost country, and in that far land he found a people in great distress. that was because they feared wazeya, the north wind, who drove away the buffalo herds so that they had no meat. "and when he points his finger at one of us," said they, "that man dies!" "come, let us hunt the buffalo!" said star boy to them; and although they were starving, they were afraid and unwilling to go. however, he made some of the men go out with him, and upon the open plain they met with north wind, who at once challenged the champion to do battle. the two rushed upon one another with great fury, and in the first onset star boy broke the bow of north wind; but in the second, star boy was overthrown and lay as one dead. however, after a time he got up again, and they met for the third bout, when lo! neither could prevail against the other, so that in the midst of the fight they were obliged to sit upon a snowbank to rest. star boy sat upon his calf-skin and fanned himself with an eagle-wing, and immediately the snow began to melt and the north wind was forced to retreat. before he went away, he made a treaty of peace with star boy, promising to come to earth for half the year only, and to give timely warning of his approach, so that the people might prepare for his coming and lay up food against the day of scarcity. by this means the winter and summer were established among us. twenty-fifth evening the ten virgins twenty-fifth evening the strong sun of march still hovers over the deep blue lake, and last night's snow flurry has quite vanished from the pleasant, brown face of our grandmother earth, when the children arrive at smoky day's wide-open doorway. there is a tang in the air and a stir in the blood to-night that moves the old man to tell a tale of youth and adventure. and this is the tale: the ten virgins there were once two brothers who loved one maiden, and it appeared that the younger brother was the favorite. one day, the jealous elder invited his brother to go hunting with him upon an island in the great lake, a day's journey in canoes from their village. no sooner had they touched shore than the elder said: "do you go to the other end of the island, and i will drive the deer toward you!" the other obeyed; but although he waited a long time on the further side, no deer appeared, nor did he see anything of his brother. at last he returned through the woods to the spot where they had landed; and behold! the canoe with his brother was almost out of sight on the blue waters of the lake. the young man, thus abandoned, wandered about the island for many days, living upon the game which he found there in abundance. he had grown very lonely and tired of his solitary life, when one day a strange old man with long, white hair appeared on the shore. "my son," said he, "you look unhappy! tell me if there is anything you wish for." "i want nothing except to cross the water to the mainland," replied the young man, "but i have no boat nor the means of making one." "get upon my back, and i will take you over in safety," returned the patriarch. accordingly he took him upon his back and swam across the lake with his burden. now the young man was grateful to his rescuer and he no longer cared to return to his own people and to the brother who had betrayed him, therefore he went with the old man to his wigwam to hunt for him. one day, when he was out hunting as usual, he thought he heard the far-off, musical sound of girls' laughter from the depths of the forest. he turned in the direction of the sound and soon came upon a broad trail, which he followed until he was overtaken by nine young men, all running eagerly along the same trail. they at once made him join their company, saying that they had needed just one more to complete their number. the ten hastened on, and presently they overtook ten beautiful young damsels. night fell, and they all went into camp together on the shore of the great lake. the girls were very friendly and chatted pleasantly with the young men during the evening, until each party retired to sleep under a hurriedly made arbor of green boughs. very early in the morning the youths awoke; but lo! their companions had vanished, and they could see only the flash of a distant paddle where lake met sky at the far-off horizon line. [illustration: she took up handsful of ashes to throw into their faces. _page _] there was no boat, and they were about to go back in despair, when the young man who had last joined the party spied a little mussel shell at the edge of the water, and invited them to step in. at first they were doubtful and hung back; but in the end one ventured and stepped into the shell, which bore up his weight. then another and another followed, until the ten men stood upon the shell, which had become a fine large canoe, and carried them all in safety to the opposite shore. there they beheld the great white wigwam in which dwelt the ten virgins with their grandmother, who was a wicked old witch. as soon as she saw the young men she took up handfuls of ashes to throw into their faces, and one after another fell senseless at her feet. last of all came the fortunate younger brother. he had borrowed the weapons of the old man with whom he lived, and it chanced that this man was a greater wonder-worker even than the witch. therefore he had merely turned toward her his magic shield to keep off the shower of ashes, when the old woman lost all her power to hurt, and at once each lusty young man sprang quickly up to claim his bride. twenty-sixth evening the magic arrows twenty-sixth evening the wise and old heads among the indians love children's company, and none is more sorry than smoky day when the village breaks up for the spring hunt, and story-telling is over for the season. "i hope," he says kindly, "that you have listened so well to these tales of our people, and repeated them so often that you will never forget them!" "we have, grandfather, we have!" they reply in chorus. "we must not only remember and repeat," he continues, "but we must consider and follow their teachings, for it is so that these legends that have come down to us from the old time are kept alive by each new generation. there is much to learn from the story of one who was so modest that he took the form of a ragged and homeless little boy, and did his good deeds in secret." the magic arrows there was once a young man who wanted to go on a journey. his mother provided him with sacks of dried meat and pairs of moccasins, but his father said to him: "here, my son, are four magic arrows. when you are in need, shoot one of them!" the young man went forth alone, and hunted in the forest for many days. usually he was successful, but a day came when he was hungry and could not find meat. then he sent forth one of the magic arrows, and at the end of the day there lay a fat bear with the arrow in his side. the hunter cut out the tongue for his meal, and of the body of the bear he made a thank-offering to the great mystery. [illustration] again he was in need, and again in the morning he shot a magic arrow, and at nightfall beside his camp-fire he found an elk lying with the arrow in his heart. once more he ate the tongue and offered up the body as a sacrifice. the third time he killed a moose with his arrow, and the fourth time a buffalo. after the fourth arrow had been spent, the young man came one day out of the forest, and before him there lay a great circular village of skin lodges. at one side, and some little way from the rest of the people, he noticed a small and poor tent where an old couple lived all alone. at the edge of the wood he took off his clothes and hid them in a hollow tree. then, touching the top of his head with his staff, he turned himself into a little ragged boy and went toward the poor tent. the old woman saw him coming, and said to her old man: "old man, let us keep this little boy for our own! he seems to be a fine, bright-eyed little fellow, and we are all alone." "what are you thinking of, old woman?" grumbled the old man. "we can hardly keep ourselves, and yet you talk of taking in a ragged little scamp from nobody knows where!" in the meantime the boy had come quite near, and the old wife beckoned to him to enter the lodge. "sit down, my grandson, sit down!" she said, kindly; and, in spite of the old man's black looks, she handed him a small dish of parched corn, which was all the food they had. the boy ate and stayed on. by and by he said to the old woman: "grandmother, i should like to have grandfather make me some arrows!" "you hear, my old man?" said she. "it will be very well for you to make some little arrows for the boy." "and why should i make arrows for a strange little ragged boy?" grumbled the old man. however, he made two or three, and the boy went hunting. in a short time he returned with several small birds. the old woman took them and pulled off the feathers, thanking him and praising him as she did so. she quickly made the little birds into soup, of which the old man ate gladly, and with the soft feathers she stuffed a small pillow. "you have done well, my grandson!" he said; for they were really very poor. not long after, the boy said to his adopted grandmother: "grandmother, when you see me at the edge of the wood yonder, you must call out: 'a bear! there goes a bear!'" this she did, and the boy again sent forth one of the magic arrows, which he had taken from the body of his game and kept by him. no sooner had he shot, than he saw the same bear that he had offered up, lying before him with the arrow in his side! now there was great rejoicing in the lodge of the poor old couple. while they were out skinning the bear and cutting the meat in thin strips to dry, the boy sat alone in the lodge. in the pot on the fire was the bear's tongue, which he wanted for himself. all at once a young girl stood in the doorway. she drew her robe modestly before her face as she said in a low voice: "i come to borrow the mortar of your grandmother!" the boy gave her the mortar, and also a piece of the tongue which he had cooked, and she went away. when all of the bear meat was gone, the boy sent forth a second arrow and killed an elk, and with the third and fourth he shot the moose and the buffalo as before, each time recovering his arrow. [illustration] soon after, he heard that the people of the large village were in trouble. a great red eagle, it was said, flew over the village every day at dawn, and the people believed that it was a bird of evil omen, for they no longer had any success in hunting. none of their braves had been able to shoot the eagle, and the chief had offered his only daughter in marriage to the man who should kill it. when the boy heard this, he went out early the next morning and lay in wait for the red eagle. at the touch of his magic arrow, it fell at his feet, and the boy pulled out his arrow and went home without speaking to any one. but the thankful people followed him to the poor little lodge, and when they had found him, they brought the chief's beautiful daughter to be his wife. lo, she was the girl who had come to borrow his grandmother's mortar! then he went back to the hollow tree where his clothes were hidden, and came back a handsome young man, richly dressed for his wedding. twenty-seventh evening the ghost wife twenty-seventh evening on this last evening, the children are told to be especially quiet, and to listen reverently and earnestly, "for these are the greater things of which i am about to tell you," says their old teacher. "you have heard that the great mystery is everywhere. he is in the earth and the water, heat and cold, rocks and trees, sun and sky; and he is also in us. when the spirit departs, that too is a mystery, and therefore we do not speak aloud the name of the dead. there are wonders all about us, and within, but if we are quiet and obedient to the voice of the spirit, sometime we may understand these mysteries!" it is thus the old sage concludes his lessons, and over all the circle there is a hush of loving reverence. the ghost wife there was once a young man who loved to be alone, and who often stayed away from the camp for days at a time, when it was said that wolves, bears and other wild creatures joined him in his rovings. he was once seen with several deer about him, petting and handling them; but when the deer discovered the presence of a stranger, they snorted with fear and quickly vanished. it was supposed that he had learned their language. all the birds answered his call, and even those fairy-like creatures of the air, the butterflies, would come to him freely and alight upon his body. [illustration: he was once seen with several deer about him, petting and handling them. _page _] one day, as he was lying in the meadow among the wild flowers, completely covered with butterflies of the most brilliant hues, as if it were a gorgeous cloak that he was wearing, there suddenly appeared before him a beautiful young girl. the youth was startled, for he knew her face. he had seen her often; it was the chiefs daughter, the prettiest maiden in the village, who had died ten days before! the truth was that she had loved this young man in secret, but he had given no thought to her, for he cared only for the wild creatures and had no mind for human ways. now, as she stood silently before him with downcast eyes, he looked upon her pure face and graceful form, and there awoke in his heart the love that he had never felt before. "but she is a spirit now!" he said to himself sorrowfully, and dared not speak to her. however, she smiled archly upon him, in his strange and beautiful garment, for she read his thoughts. toward sunset, the butterflies flew away, and with them the ghost maiden departed. after this the young man was absent more than ever, and no one knew that the spirit of the maiden came to him in the deep woods. he built for her a lodge of pine boughs, and there she would come to cook his venison and to mend his moccasins, and sit with him beside his lonely camp-fire. but at last he was not content with this and begged her to go with him to the village, for his mother and kinsfolk would not allow him to remain always away from them. "ah, my spirit wife," he begged, "can you not return with me to my people, so that i may have a home in their sight?" "it may be so," she replied thoughtfully, "if you will carefully observe my conditions. first, we must pitch our tent a little apart from the rest of the people. second, you must patiently bear with my absences and the strangeness of my behavior, for i can only visit them and they me in the night time. third, you must never raise your voice in our teepee, and above all, let me never hear you speak roughly to a child in my presence!" "all these i will observe faithfully," replied the young husband. now it happened that after a longer absence than usual, he was seen to come home with a wife. they pitched their tent some way from the village, and the people saw at a distance the figure of a graceful young woman moving about the solitary white teepee. but whenever any of his relatives approached to congratulate him and to bid her welcome, she would take up her axe and go forth into the forest as if to cut wood for her fire, or with her bucket for water. at night, however, they came to see the young couple and found her at home, but it appeared very strange that she did not speak to any of them, not even by signs, though she smiled so graciously and sweetly that they all loved her. her husband explained that the girl was of another race who have these strange ways, and by and by the people became used to them, and even ceased to wonder why they could never find her at home in the day time. so they lived happily together, and in due time children came to them; first a boy, and a little girl afterward. but one night the father came home tired and hungry from the hunt, and the little one cried loudly and would not be quieted. then for the first time he forgot his promise and spoke angrily to the mother and child. instantly the fire went out and the tent was dark. when he had kindled the fire again, he saw that he was alone, nor did tears and searchings avail to find his wife and children. alas, they were gone from him forever! the young ranchers or _fighting the sioux_ "forest and prairie series," no. . by edward s. ellis author of "boy pioneer series," "deerfoot series," "wildwood series," etc. philadelphia henry t. coates & co. copyright, , by porter & coates. [illustration: the death of the faithful messenger.] contents. i. danger ahead ii. the voiceless friend iii. companions in peril iv. tim brophy's discovery v. leaving the ranch vi. "timothy brophy, esq., at your service" vii. stirring times viii. starcus ix. on the bank of a stream x. bent arm and his band xi. at bay xii. facing westward xiii. in the fringe of the woods xiv. turned back xv. missing xvi. a thief of the night xvii. through the wood xviii. night and morning xix. a startling surprise xx. a run for life xxi. away we go! xxii. on foot xxiii. down! xxiv. the friend in need xxv. the prairie duel xxvi. on the ground xxvii. a good samaritan xxviii. the lone horseman xxix. a break for freedom xxx. comrades again xxxi. the last hope xxxii. away! away! xxxiii. bread cast upon the waters list of illustrations the death of the faithful messenger. a hot pursuit. tim's fortunate shot. the death of the indian. the young ranchers; or, fighting the sioux. chapter i. danger ahead. there was snow in the air. warren starr had felt it ever since meridian, though not a flake had fallen, and the storm might be delayed for hours yet to come. there was no mistaking the dull leaden sky, the chill in the atmosphere, and that dark, increasing gloom which overspreads the heavens at such times. young warren was a fine specimen of the young hunter, though he had not yet passed his nineteenth year. his home was in south dakota, and he was now on his return from fort meade, at the eastern foot of the black hills, and had fully twenty miles to travel, though the sun was low in the horizon, as he well knew, even if it was veiled by the snow vapor. his father's ranch lay to the north of the big cheyenne, and the son was familiar with every foot of the ground, having traversed it many a time, not only on his visits to the fort, but in the numerous hunting excursions of which he was so fond. he could have made the journey by night, when no moon was in the sky, had there been need of doing so, but he decided that it was better to give his pony the rest he required, and to push on at an early hour the next morning. he had eaten nothing since the noon halt, and his youth and vigor gave him a powerful appetite, but he had learned long before that one of the first requisites of the hunter is to learn to endure cold, heat, hunger, and hardship unmurmuringly. but the youth was in so uneasy a mental state that he rode slowly for nearly an hour, debating with himself whether to draw rein or push on. the rumors of trouble among the sioux were confirmed by his visit to fort meade. a spirit of unrest had prevailed for a long time, caused by the machinations of that marplot, sitting bull, the harangues of medicine men who proclaimed the coming messiah, the ghost dances, the eagerness of the young bucks to take the warpath, and the universal belief that the last opportunity for the red men to turn back the advance of the caucasian race was to be made soon or never. the fact that our government had its military posts scattered through the disaffected country, that the indian reservations were comparatively well governed, that the officers were men whose valor and skill had been proven times without number, and that these authorities were keeping close watch on the growing disaffection produced a quieting effect in many quarters, though the best informed men foresaw the impending storm. that which troubled warren starr on his lonely ride northward was the fact that on that ranch, twenty miles away, dwelt his father, mother, and little sister, known by the pet name of dot. his father had two assistants in the care of the ranch, jared plummer, a man in middle life, and tim brophy, a lusty young irishman, about the same age as warren. but the ranch was not fitted to withstand an attack from any of the bands through the country. those turbulent bucks were the very ones to assail his home with the fury of a cyclone, and if they did, heaven help the loved ones there, even though the three men were well provided with arms and ammunition. the commandant of fort meade suggested to warren that he urge his people to come into the fort without delay. such a suggestion, coming from the officer, meant a good deal. that which caused the youth to decide to wait until morning was the fatigue of his animal, and the more important fact that it was best not only to arrive at the ranch in the daytime, but to ride through several miles of the surrounding country when the chance to use his eyes was at the best. if hostiles were in the section, he might pass within a hundred yards of them in the darkness without discovering it, but it was impossible to do so when the sun was in the sky. he was now riding across an open plain directly toward a small branch of the big cheyenne, beyond which lay his home. he could already detect the fringe of timber that lined both sides of the winding stream, while to the right rose a rocky ridge several hundred feet in height, and a mile or two distant appeared a similar range on the left. the well-marked trail which the lad was following passed between these elevations; that on the right first presenting itself and diverging so far to the east, just before the other ridge was reached, that it may be said it disappeared, leaving the other to succeed it. despite the long ride and the fatigue of himself as well as his animal, young starr was on the alert. he was in a dangerous country, and a little negligence on his part was liable to prove fatal. "if there is a lot of sioux watching this trail for parties going either way, this is the spot," he reflected, grasping his winchester, lying across his saddle, a little more firmly. "i have met them here more than once, and, though they claimed to be friendly, i was always uneasy, for it is hard for an indian to resist the temptation to hurt a white man when it looks safe to do so." nothing could have exceeded the caution of the youth. the trail showed so plainly that his pony kept to it without any guidance on his part, and the reins lay loose on his neck. every minute or two the rider glanced furtively behind him to make sure no treacherous enemy was stealing upon him unawares; and then, after a hasty look to the right and left, he scanned the rocky ridge on his right, peering forward the next moment at the one farther off on his left. he was searching for that which he did not want to find--signs of red men. he knew a good deal of their system of telegraphy, and half suspected that some keen-eyed sioux was crouching behind the rocks of the ridge, awaiting the moment to signal his approach to his confederate farther away. it might have seemed possible to some to flank the danger by turning far to the right or left, but that would have involved a long detour and delay in arriving home. at the same time, if any warriors were on the watch, they could easily checkmate him by accommodating their movements to his, and continually heading him off, whichever direction he took. he had considered all these contingencies, and felt no hesitation in pressing straight forward, despite the apparent peril involved in doing so. suddenly jack pricked his ears and raised his head, emitting at the same time a slight whiff through his nostrils. no words could have said more plainly: "beware, master! i have discovered something." the rider's natural supposition was that the danger, whatever it might be, was on the crest of the ridge he was approaching; but, when he shaded his eyes and peered forward, he was unable to detect anything at all. enough light remained in the sky for him to use his excellent eyes to the best advantage, but nothing rewarded the scrutiny. jack continued advancing, though his gait was now a slow walk, as if he expected his master to halt altogether; but the latter acted like the skilful railway engineer, who, seeing the danger signal ahead, continues creeping slowly toward it, ready to check his train on the instant it becomes necessary to do so. he allowed the pony to step tardily forward, while he strove to locate the point whence peril threatened. "what the mischief do you see, jack?" he asked, in a half-impatient tone; "if i didn't know you never joked, i would believe you were trying some trick on me to get me to camp for the night." once the horseman fancied he caught the faint outlines of a thin column of smoke climbing into the sky from the crest of the ridge, but closer study convinced him that he was wrong. if such a signal were kindled, it must be clear enough to be recognized from the farther elevation, which was more distant than the horseman. "i shall observe the vapor as soon as they," he thought, "for my eyes are as sharp--helloa! that beats the mischief!" at last warren starr learned what it was that had alarmed his pony. chapter ii. the voiceless friend. the keen eyes, instead of looking at the crest of the rocky ridge on his right, were now centred on the ground, where they detected a small dark speck swiftly approaching the horseman. at the first glance, the object suggested a cannon-ball rolling with great speed toward the pony, that was now standing still, with head erect, ears thrown forward, and the appearance of perplexed interest in the thing, whatever it might be. for a minute warren starr was unable to guess the meaning of the singular sight. whatever its nature, it was evident that it was aiming to reach the rider with the least possible delay. the latter drew his winchester around in front, so as to be ready to receive it, his first thought being that it was some sioux stratagem designed to do him ill. but while he gazed, he discovered its identity; it was a dog, running as if its very life were at stake. the next instant young starr perceived something protruding from the front part of its body, resembling the ornamental feather in an indian's head-dress. "it is an arrow!" he exclaimed. "the poor creature is badly wounded, and is striving to reach me before he dies. by gracious, it's bruno!" he added, as a closer approach enabled him to identify the creature. "he brings me some message." bruno was his favorite hound, that had accompanied him on many a hunting excursion, and whom he loved scarcely less than jack, his pony. it was indeed a race with death on the part of the faithful animal. while yet a number of rods distant, he staggered, faltered, then gathering his energies pressed on with the last strength he could summon, and with a low moan rolled languidly on his side, and looking upward with a human expression to his young master, said by his action: "i have done the best i could for you, and i am content." young starr was out of the saddle like a flash, and ran forward to him. stooping down, he placed one arm under the head of the noble dog, and, leaning over, touched his lips to the velvety forehead. "my poor bruno, they have killed you!" he murmured, with tears in his eyes. "i would give an arm to save you, but it is too late." he saw that the head of the arrow was sunken deep into the neck, and the dark coat was splashed with crimson. to attempt to withdraw the missile was useless. it could only deepen the agony of the animal without relieving him in the least. he was doomed and dying before he sank to the ground. bruno turned his beautiful eyes upward to his master, emitted a low moan, gave a slight quiver and gasp, and was dead. no martyr ever did his duty more heroically. for a few moments warren starr yielded to his grief. he remained with the exquisitely formed head resting on his arm, while the tears fell from his eyes on the form that could never respond again to his caresses. then he gently withdrew his arm and suffered the head to rest on the ground. "your last act was for those you love," he murmured; "you gave your life for us, and no man could do more. no one shall take from me the faith that we shall be happy together beyond the grave. good-by, my true and faithful friend." young starr was too experienced a scout, despite his youth, to forget in his grief the full significance of the sad incident. the hound had travelled the long distance from the ranch to this point for the purpose of bringing him a message. he had been discovered while on the road, and fired upon by the indians, who were so near that they used bows and arrows to prevent the young master taking the alarm. many missiles were doubtless sent after the animal, and one was fated to bring him down, though not until he had accomplished his errand. warren knew where to look for the message. he unstrapped the collar, with its silver plate--which he would have done under any circumstance to keep as a remembrance of his voiceless friend--and there, carefully folded and secure under the band, was a piece of paper, containing considerable writing in lead-pencil: dear warren: don't come to the ranch. it is sure death to undertake it. a party of twenty and more bucks are near us. they have killed or stampeded our cattle, and will attack us this evening if we remain, which we shall not do. tim discovered them this afternoon, and learned enough to make sure of their intention. we shall mount our horses and start for fort meade. we dare not use the regular trail, along which i suppose you are making your way, but must be guided by circumstances. i think we shall move to the westward, taking the most direct route to the post, but are likely to be forced into a long detour, which renders it impossible for me to give you any direction by which we can meet each other. i know that your impulse will be to try to join us before we reach the fort, but it is my earnest wish that you shall not attempt it. turn about at once, while you have time, and retrace your steps. if a day or two shall pass without our coming in, perhaps it may be well to ask the colonel to send out a squad of cavalry to help us, for it is idle to fancy we are not in great peril. it is my prayer that bruno shall intercept you in time to prevent any mishap. i have instructed him precisely what he is expected to do, and he not only fully understands, but, as you well know, will do it if it be possible. your father. "you were right," said the youth gently, looking down once more on the inanimate form. "bruno did his duty, and he deserves a monument for having done it so well." all this time the pony stood some feet away, motionless, and apparently a deeply interested witness of the singular scene. he was too well trained to leave his master, who never resorted to the precaution of securing him by his halter. meanwhile night was closing in. the gloom was overspreading the prairie so that the ridge, which had been such a cause for solicitude to the youth, was now dimly discernible. in a few minutes it would be swallowed up in the coming darkness. resolutely forcing his sadness aside, warren knelt down and pressed his ear to the ground. if horsemen were approaching he could detect it through the sense of hearing. then he climbed once more into the saddle and faced the ridge, debating with himself what was the right course to pursue. his father had said in unmistakable language that he wished him to return to fort meade. warren was a dutiful son, but he could not persuade himself that that was the best thing to do. to follow his parent's wishes would require him to look after his own safety, and to forget those whose lives were dearer to him than his own. to return to the fort, and secure the aid that he knew would be cheerfully given, would take a day or two, during which the crisis must come and pass with his people. two days at the most would settle the question whether they were to escape or fall victims to the ferocity of the sioux. "i can't do it," he said, compressing his lips and shaking his head. "i have never played the coward, and i'm not going to begin when my folks are concerned. my first duty is to find out where father, mother, and dot are, and then do all i can for their safety." it was not difficult to reach this conclusion, for which no one will deny him credit; but it was altogether a difficult and formidable task for him to decide what next to do. had his friends been following the regular trail to the fort his course would have been simple, since he had only to continue on until he met them; but his father had notified him that not only would he not take that route, but he could not say which one he would adopt. he inclined to think he would turn to the westward, leaving the path on his left, but the question, as he said, must be settled by circumstances. something cold touched his hand. it was a snowflake, and he knew that in a short time the ground would be wrapped in a mantle of white. once more he glanced in the direction of the elevation, now invisible in the gathering darkness. on the utmost height a point of light appeared, shining for a moment with the steady radiance of a fixed star. "the bucks are there," concluded warren; "they saw me from a long way, and must wonder why i am delayed--ah, sure enough!" all at once the gleaming light began circling about, faster and faster, until it looked like a wheel of fire. then it reversed, whirling as swiftly in the opposite direction, then up and down, then from side to side, and finally, whiff! it vanished. a grim smile lit the face of the youth, who turned his gaze toward the more distant ridge on his left for the answer, but if it was made, the state of the atmosphere prevented his seeing it. once he fancied he caught the glimpse of something resembling a fire-fly, but it was only for an instant, and was not observed again. it was easy to read the meaning of that which first showed itself. a party of indians that had evidently been watching his coming, while yet a long way off, now telegraphed his arrival to their confederates on the more distant elevation, together with the fact that the white man had ceased his approach and might not come any nearer. it was reasonable to believe that these same red men would not remain idle while the object of their wrath turned quietly about and retraced his steps. only a few minutes were used in considering the question, but the time had not yet expired, when, to warren's astonishment, he heard the sound of firing ahead. probably eight or ten shots were discharged at quick but irregular intervals, and then all once more became still. a pang of apprehension passed through him at the fear that his friends, after all, might have attempted to reach the fort by the trail, and had become involved in a fight with the sioux. be that as it may, the fact was impressed on him that he was doing an imprudent thing by remaining in the path along which the warriors were liable to burst at any moment. he turned jack to the left and rode fully a hundred yards before again drawing rein. it was not necessary to go this far to place himself beyond sight of the path, but he wished to take no unnecessary chances. by this time the snowflakes were falling fast, and it was impossible to see objects more than twenty feet distant. warren checked his pony, holding him with his nose toward the trail, and listened. again the intelligent animal elevated his head, pricked his ears, and emitted an almost noiseless neigh, as was his habit when he discovered the approach of strangers. his rider could discern nothing through the gloom, and resorted to the resource tried before, which is a common one among hunters and warriors. descending from the saddle, he brushed aside the snow from a small spot on the ground and pressed his ear against the earth. this time he _did_ hear something. a horse was approaching over the trail on a swift gallop, and it took but a brief while for the youth to learn that he was coming from the direction of the ridge. furthermore, there was but the single horseman; or, if there were others, they were so far off that no thought need be given to them. remounting his pony, warren held him facing the path, and prepared for any emergency likely to arise. he was well aware that if the stranger kept to the trail he would be invisible in the gloom, but he was now so near that from his seat young starr plainly caught the sound of his horse's hoofs, growing more distinct every moment. whoever it was that was advancing, it was evident he was doing so at what might be called a leisurely pace, though it was quite rapid. the horse was on an easy canter, such as his species can maintain for hours without fatigue. the youth was sitting in this posture, with never a thought of what was coming, when to his amazement he caught the outlines of the man and his steed passing at right angles to the course he had been following himself. "he is off the trail!" was the alarming fact which caused warren to make ready to fire, for the truth was apparent that if he saw the stranger, the latter had the same opportunity of seeing him. to his surprise jack uttered a neigh at the critical moment when the other was directly opposite. a collision now seemed certain, but the other kept straight on, and quickly passed from sight. not until he had been several minutes beyond hearing did the startling thought come to warren starr: "that was a white man, and not an indian." chapter iii. companions in peril. warren starr was impatient with himself that he had not thought of the stranger being a white man until it was too late to make use of the important fact. the sounds of firing ahead ought to have raised the suspicion in his mind, and the act of his pony should have confirmed it, for he never would have betrayed himself to one of his own species had he not known that he belonged to a friend. but it was a waste of time to bewail what could not be helped, and nothing was to be gained by staying where he was. there was no longer any call to push onward toward the ranch, for that was not his destination. he was seeking his folks. once more the nose of jack was turned about, and this time he was headed toward the northwest, his course being such that it would take him considerably to the west of the second rocky ridge to which allusion has been made. in short, warren had now set out to do that which he would not have attempted but for the receipt of the message from his father. he was about to flank both elevations by swerving far from the direct course to his home. the small tributary of the big cheyenne, which it was necessary to ford in order to reach the ranch, made a sweeping curve southward, so that the marked change in the course he was following would take him to it, though at a point far removed from the regular ford. the youth was not riding blindly forward. it has been stated that he was familiar with the country for many miles around his home, and he was making for a definite point. it was on the bank of the small stream, and was not only deeply wooded, but abounded with rocks, bowlders, depressions, ravines, and wild, dangerous places, where it was certain death for a person to try to make his way in the darkness, unless he knew every foot of the locality. this was the locality for which young starr was aiming. here he was confident of finding security against the sioux, though they might be near at hand. he knew just where to go, for he had hunted through it many times with his friend tim brophy, for whose company he longed more than ever before. jack wanted food, but it could not be had. he did not need it, however, to the extent of suffering. at the noon halt, when his master sat on the ground by a spring of cold water to eat his lunch, the pony had cropped the succulent grass that grew around, and he could stand it quite well until the morrow. the animal needed rest and shelter more than anything else, and it was that which his young master meant he should have. as if he understood it all, the horse of his own accord struck into a brisk gallop, which rendered unnecessary any other protection from the cold. the snow was still falling, but the temperature was not low, and there was not enough on the ground to interfere with the travelling of the animal, who maintained his pace until the abrupt appearance of the rocky section, with its trees and bowlders, compelled him to drop to a slow walk, with his nose thrust forward, as if to scent every step of the way, like an elephant crossing a doubtful bridge. "here we are, my boy!" called out warren, "and you couldn't have come more truly if the sun had been shining." it certainly was a marvellous piece of woodcraft, if such it may be called, on the part of the pony, that he should have struck the spot so accurately, and yet it is scarcely less marvellous that, had he needed direction, his master was competent to give it, despite the darkness and the snow. warren left the saddle for the last time. with no stars or moon in the sky, and with the snow falling faster than ever, it would seem that one's eyes were of little use, but they served their purpose well in the present instance. paying no heed to the animal, he bent over, groping his way among the rocks, which began abruptly on the edge of the prairie, and had not spent five minutes thus when he came upon that for which he was looking--an opening between a mass of bowlders, along which a person or animal could make his way with little difficulty. "here we are, jack, my boy! come on; we'll soon reach our house." with more thrusting forward of the head, and sniffing of the air, the pony obeyed, though it is hardly to be supposed that he understood all that was said to him. on the previous winter, when warren starr and tim brophy were hunting in this section, they found game so abundant that they decided to spend two or three days in the neighborhood. accordingly they put up a shelter which afforded good protection at night, and would do the same against any storm not too violent. a rock a dozen feet in length formed a half-circle, the upper edge projecting over to the extent of a yard or more. all that was required was to lean a number of branches against this, the upper parts supported by the ledge, while the lower rested on the ground, some eight or ten feet away from the base. these branches being numerous and thickly placed, constituted what might be considered a tepee, with only the broad opening in front. it was in this rude shelter that warren starr and tim brophy had spent a couple of nights in comparative comfort. the second one was bitterly cold, and they kindled a fire near the entrance. the smoke caused some trouble, but wrapped in their thick blankets, and stretched out back to back, they slept as soundly as if in their beds at home. this was the structure which the youth had in mind when he turned his back on the regular trail and made for the wild solitude through which he now began threading his way, and it was a striking tribute to his woodcraft and knowledge that within fifteen minutes he reached the very spot, with his pony at his heels. "this is the place," he remarked to his animal, "but there don't seem to be any lamps lighted, and it's best to look around a little before retiring for the night." drawing a rubber match-safe from his pocket, he ignited one of the tiny bits of wood, shading the twist of flame from the snowflakes, though there was no wind stirring. it was months since he had visited the place, and the elements were likely to have played havoc with the structure during that period, for in that part of our union the blizzard and tempest raise the mischief at certain seasons. he was gratified, however, to note the slight change effected. one or two of the long branches had fallen to the ground and several others were askew. he was obliged to fling aside the match while he devoted some minutes to straightening them. this was effected so well that when he stepped inside and struck another match he saw not a flake of snow filtering through the crevices, though there was likely to be considerable before morning. "come in!" was the astonishing command the youth gave to his pony, who stood looking at him, as if wondering what the next move was to be. the situation was amusing, and not without its ludicrous side, with warren holding a match in one hand, his rifle in the other, and his heavy blanket wrapped about his shoulders, beckoning and addressing the pony, which hesitated for a minute at this unexpected invitation to share the couch of his master. but he was an obedient animal, and with some more sniffing and poking forward of his nose, he stepped slowly forward until he was entirely within the rude structure. "now lie down," added warren, lighting another match, and jack obeyed with more promptness than before. then the youth flung the broad, heavy blanket over the pony so as to envelop as much of him as possible, lay down close to the front of his body, adjusting the hoofs as best he could, drew the rest of the covering over himself, and was excusable for chuckling: "now, jack, old fellow, what's to prevent us from sleeping as snug as a bug in a rug! hey, my boy?" everything promised well, but before either could fall asleep, they were startled beyond measure by hearing someone moving outside. whispering to the horse to keep still, warren slipped out from under the blanket and moved softly to the opening, revolver in hand. as he did so, he ran squarely against another person who was in the act of entering the place of shelter. chapter iv. tim brophy's discovery. the letter which was delivered to warren starr by his mortally wounded hound not only gave that young man definite news of the alarming events in the neighborhood of his home, but has conveyed to the reader the cause of the abrupt change in his plans and of the stirring incidents which led to the hasty flight of the starr family from their ranch on the north of the big cheyenne river. as stated in the note, it was tim brophy, the young irishman, who made the discovery in time to prevent the family being overwhelmed and massacred. while jared plummer, the lank new englander, rode to the westward to look after some strays, tim galloped north to attend to the main herd, which was supposed to be cropping the abundant grass in the neighborhood of several small streams and tributaries of the main river. tim had been in the employ of mr. starr for three years, and had spent most of his life in the west, so that he had fully learned the lesson which such an experience should teach everyone. he knew of the impending trouble among the indian tribes, and was always on the alert. it was not long, therefore, before he came upon signs which told him something was amiss. in the corner of a natural clearing, near one of the small streams, he discovered a dozen of the cattle lying dead. it was not necessary for him to dismount and examine the ground to learn the cause of such slaughter. the footprints of ponies near by, the bullet wounds, and other indications answered the question that came to his lips at the first glimpse of the cruel butchery. "the spalpeens!" he exclaimed wrath-fully. "they niver had a better friend than mr. starr, and that's the shtyle in which they pays him for the same. worrah, worrah, but it's too bad!" riding cautiously to the top of the next elevation, the young rancher saw other sights which filled him with greater indignation and resentment. a half mile to the northward the entire herd of cattle, numbering several hundreds, were scurrying over the plain in a wild panic. the figures of several sioux bucks galloping at their heels, swinging their arms and shouting, so as to keep up and add to the affright, left no doubt that mr. starr's fine drove of cattle was gone beyond recovery. the result of months of toil, expense, and trouble were vanishing as they sometimes do before the resistless sweep of the cyclone. the blue eyes of the celt flashed, as he sat in the saddle and contemplated the exasperating raid. nothing would have pleased him better than to dash with several companions after the marauders and force them to a reckoning for the outrage. but eager as he was for such an affray, he was too wise to try it alone. there were five or six of the horsemen, and he was no match for them. besides this, a more alarming discovery broke upon him within a minute after observing the stampede. from the clump of wood on his right, along the edge of the stream, only a few hundred yards away, he detected the faint smoke of a camp-fire. the sioux were there. the sight so startled tim that he wheeled his pony short around and withdrew behind the elevation he had just ascended, fearing he had already been observed by the red men. such undoubtedly would have been the fact had any of the turbulent sioux been on guard, but the occasion was one of those rare ones in which the warriors acted upon the theory that no such precaution was needed, since no possible danger could threaten them. suspecting the truth, tim dropped hastily from his pony and stole along the edge of the stream, until he reached a point which gave him a sight of the miscreants, and at the same time afforded him tolerably fair protection. the scene was calculated to inspire anything but pleasant feelings in a spectator. fully a score of young warriors were squatted in a circle, listening to the harangue of one of their number, who had wrought himself into a furious passion. he was swinging his arms, shouting and leaping about like a lunatic, and rising to a pitch which not only threatened to throw him into a paroxysm, but was imparting itself to his listeners. some of them were smoking, but showing at the same time an excitement which is generally believed to be foreign to the american race. they were all bucks, and eager to be led upon the warpath. there was not an old or middle-aged man among them. the eavesdropper was not able to understand their words, but the gestures left no doubt of their fearful meaning. the speaker pointed in the direction of the home of the starrs so often, and indulged in so much action to which the others signified full assent, that it was beyond dispute that they meant to attack the house and slay the inmates. knowing all about these, and the resistance they were likely to meet, they would wait until night before bursting upon them. tim brophy was sagacious enough to grasp almost on the instant the full nature of the awful peril. he saw that accident, or rather providence, had given to him the secret which revealed that only by prompt action could the lives of his friends be saved. there was no saying how long the council, if such it may be called, would last, and he did not care to know. nothing could show the intense absorption of the fierce sioux in the outrage they had determined to commit more than the fact that a white man rose up in full view only a few hundred yards away, without his presence being detected. such being the case, it was easy for tim to withdraw from the immediate vicinity of the gathering, steal round to where his pony was cropping the grass, and mount again. he rode carefully forward, keeping the elevation between him and the camp of the hostiles, until convinced it was safe, when he struck his horse into a run and sped away as if for life. a few minutes sufficed to take him to the house, where the unsuspicious folk looked up in wonder at his haste and agitation. mr. starr was sitting near the window reading a newspaper, his little girl dot was playing with her doll on the floor, and the wife was busy with her household duties. it took but a few minutes for tim to tell the news. jared plummer had not yet come in, and there could be no guessing as to what additional facts he would give them. like his employé, the rancher was quick to grasp the situation. the only possible safety was in flight, and no time was to be lost. the building, with its broad, flat roof, its many windows and insecure portions, was in no condition for successful defence, where the small garrison could not guard one-half the weak points. the assailants could readily fire it, and it would burn like so much touchwood. flight, therefore, was the one and only thing to be thought of. it was yet comparatively early in the afternoon, and those on the ranch had noted the signs of the approaching snowstorm. the husband directed his wife to make her preparations few and simple, and to waste no time. it was idle to bewail the necessity which compelled them to leave so many precious articles behind. life was dearer than all, and the courageous helpmate proved herself equal to the occasion. she gathered the articles of clothing they were likely to need, filled several bags with the provisions in the house, and announced that she was ready. there was a horse each for the father, mother, and tim brophy, while a fourth, a small, tough pony, was laden with the bag of provisions, extra clothing, and a few articles deemed indispensable. these were brought round to the front, and in much less time than would be supposed the little cavalcade was ready to move. despite the belief of brophy that no attack would be made until after darkness had closed,--a belief shared by mr. starr,--the rancher was fearful that his home would be placed under surveillance while daylight lasted, and that the intended flight would be discovered before it began. in such an event, the family could only fight it out to the desperate end, and that they would do so admits of no doubt. chapter v. leaving the ranch. now that everything was ready, mr. starr felt anxious about the absent jared plummer. he ought to have learned of the danger before this, and should have been almost, if not quite, as prompt as tim brophy in hastening to the house. his continued absence gave ground for fear that harm had befallen him, but his friends were powerless to give him help. "it won't do to wait," remarked the rancher gravely, "and he will be as able to do without as with us." "why not lave a missage for him?" asked tim. "the idea is a good one," replied mr. starr, who, sitting down, hurriedly penned the following upon a slip of paper, and pinned it on the front door of the dwelling, where it was sure to catch the eye of the absent one in the event of his return: to jared plummer: the presence of the sioux, and the certainty that they will attack the ranch before long, leave no choice for us but to flee at once. i have waited as long as i dare. we shall take a south-west course and will aim to reach fort meade. follow as soon as you can, and we will look out for each other; but give your thoughts and energies to taking care of yourself. more than likely we shall not see each other until we meet at the post, if it be god's will that we shall safely arrive there. george starr. little dot watched her father with great interest while he was fastening this piece of paper to the door of their home. "what's that for, papa?" she asked. "it is something for mr. plummer to read when he comes back." "don't you want anyone else to read it?" "of course not," replied the parent with a smile, lovingly patting the chubby cheek. "but if the bad indians you and mamma have been talking about come here, they will read it too." the father started. he had not thought of that. the next moment, however, he laughed. "the indians don't know how to read writing or print, so it won't do them any good." "but starcus can read as well as anybody." "he has been to school and learned, and then he is a good indian, too, and i wouldn't care if he did read it." "but maybe he will become bad like the other indians," persisted the child. the husband looked significantly at his wife, who was also watching his actions and listening to the conversation. she replied with a motion of the head, which said there might be something in the words of the little one. starcus was a young indian that had been attending the carlisle school for a couple of years, and had acquired a fair english education, being able to read, write, and talk intelligently. he had called at the house several times, and interested the family by his pleasing ways and kind words. he remarked on his last visit, some weeks before, that he was likely to remain some time with his people, and possibly would not return again to the east. many things were more unlikely than that he would be carried away by the craze that was affecting his tribe, and become one of the most ferocious foes of the caucasian race. "tim," said mr. starr, turning to the irishman, "did you notice whether he was among the group you saw?" "i didn't observe him, but they were fixed out in war-paint and toggery so that i wouldn't have knowed the gintleman onless i was inthrodooced to the same. thin, too, he might have been one of the spalpeens who were stampeding the cattle." "well, there's no use in thinking of that; we must take the chances; the sioux will find out what course we follow without asking anyone to translate this message for them." mrs. starr caught the arm of her husband, and as he turned he noticed that her face was pale with emotion. "what is it, wife?" he asked in alarm. "warren," she replied in a whisper. "what about him?" "this is the day he said he would leave the fort for home; he must be on the way now; unless he is warned he will ride to his death without suspecting it." the father forgot their own danger for the moment in his alarm for his son. it took but a few minutes to act upon the plan of which the reader has learned long since. another letter was pencilled and secured to the collar of bruno, whose instructions were so minute that they would have been ludicrous, but for their warrant in the wonderful intelligence of the animal. the hound sped away like an arrow from the bow, and the faithfulness with which he did his work need not be retold. there was no call for further delay. mr. starr mounted his fine animal, armed with winchester and revolver, after he had assisted his wife upon another horse and placed dot in front of her. the mother was a superior horsewoman, and this arrangement was intended to leave the husband free to act without hinderance, in the event of an emergency. tim brophy was equally at liberty, and with the pack animal well laden the party left the home, each oppressed by a great fear that they would not only never look upon it again, but would probably be struck down before reaching the nearest point of safety, many miles away, at the base of the black hills. more than one eye anxiously turned toward the elevation, beyond which tim brophy had seen the bucks listening to the impassioned harangue of their leader, and the relief was not great when they rode over another swell in the plain, which shut them out from the sight of any of the serpent-eyed sioux concealed there; for there could be no certainty that the fugitives had not been observed by them. it was not the custom of their people to attack openly; more likely they would set some ambush into which the whites might ride with no thought of danger. but in one sense the rubicon was crossed. they had turned their backs on the ranch, and it was to be dismissed from their thoughts until they should reach some place of safety. there was little said by any member of the party, for the occasion was not one to induce conversation. even little dot was oppressed by the general gloom, and nestled close to her mother, whose arm lovingly encircled and held her close to her breast, which would gladly receive any blow intended for that precious one. tim brophy remained a brief distance at the rear, with the pack animal, on the alert for the first sign of danger, while mr. starr gave his attention to the front, selecting the course, and doing all in his power to avoid leading his companions into danger. when, however, a half mile had been passed, during which several ridges were crossed, a feeling of hope arose that after all they might elude their vengeful enemies. with the coming of night, it would be impossible for the sioux to trail them. they must wait until the following morning, and before that time the fugitives ought to be so near fort meade that the pursuit would be in vain. it was a striking proof of parental affection that now, when the cloud was partly lifted from the father and mother, their anxiety should be transferred to the absent son on his way to join them. he was in the minds of both, and despite his exceptional skill in woodcraft, the conviction grew upon the parents that he was in greater peril than they. finally, the mother uttered the thoughts in her mind. "i agree with you, molly," the husband replied. "bruno will do his best, but i believe the chances are a hundred to one that he will fail, and warren will ride straight to his death." "can't we do something, george?" the husband turned his head, and beckoned to his employé to ride up between them. "tim, you know the regular trail to the fort as well as the way to your own bedroom. i want you to set out to meet warren, and prevent his running into the hands of the sioux." "whin would ye like me to start?" "now." "i'm riddy and waiting to ride to me death for the boy, if nade be." chapter vi. "timothy brophy, esq., at your service." at first thought, the abrupt departure of tim brophy may seem an imprudent thing, since it left only one man to look after the safety of mrs. starr and their little one; but it will be remembered that the hope of safety lay not in fighting, but in flight; and the presence or absence of the young irishman could not affect that one way or the other. accordingly, with a pause only long enough to draw a substantial lunch from the provision bag and to bid his friends good-by, tim wheeled his horse and was off like a shot. he took good care to avoid the neighborhood of the bucks, and soon left the ranch far behind, speeding along the trail over which warren starr was at that moment galloping toward him. the youth drove his task through with all the impetuosity of his nature. he was devotedly attached to the son of his employer, and was ready at any time, as he had always been, to risk his life for him. believing as he did that he was in more imminent peril than anyone else, he bent every energy toward reaching and turning him aside before it was too late. in this essay, tim committed a mistake which warren starr narrowly avoided. he acted on the theory that the only real danger was in the immediate neighborhood of the ranch, and that none existed near the ridges between which the trail led. the consequence was that, when he was not dreaming of any such thing, he suddenly became the target for a fusillade from sioux rifles that were waiting to receive young starr, and therefore were not fully prepared for him. by desperate work and good fortune he and his pony ran the gauntlet unscathed, and continued their flight southward. the whinny of his friend's pony, he supposed, came from one of the horses of his enemies, and therefore he galloped on without paying any heed to it. meanwhile, as will be remembered, young starr had pushed through the falling snow and gathering darkness until he and his horse reached the primitive shelter among the rocks, bowlders, and trees which he had used when on previous hunting expeditions. after he and jack had disposed themselves for the night they were disturbed by the approach of someone. rising to his feet, warren hurried stealthily to the door, where he ran directly against the intruder, whom he was unable to recognize in the gloom. "who are you?" he asked, holding his revolver ready for instant use, but unwilling to fire until sure he was facing an enemy. "timothy brophy, esq., at your service," replied his friend, identifying the other by his voice. "why, tim, i can't tell you how glad i am to see you," exclaimed the delighted warren: "i have thought a score of times, when on the way, how pleasant it would be to meet you. what brought you here?" "my horse, and i presume that yours did the same for yersilf." "where is he?" "outside, near by, wid the bist shelter i could give him: i didn't saa your own." "he's inside, sharing my couch with me, or, rather, was doing so when you disturbed us." tim broke into laughter. "that's a good idaa; i niver heerd of anything like it before. is there room for billy, too?" "i'm afraid we would be crowded; but come inside till i strike a match and show you how things are fixed." the two entered, and warren ignited another lucifer. jack was evidently puzzled, raising his head and looking at them in a way which suggested that he would like to come to his feet. "lie down, old fellow!" commanded his master; "there's nothing to be disturbed about; you couldn't have better quarters, and you will be wise to stay where you are; you're better off than billy." now that tim had arrived with his blanket, it was decided that the pony should be left where he was, while the youths lay down on the other covering, which was wrapped about them. then they curled up and made themselves as comfortable as on their previous stay in the rude shelter. lying thus, they naturally talked over what had taken place since their last meeting. warren's voice trembled when he told the story of bruno, who gave his life for him and his friends, and tim related what had befallen the others during the day. young starr was filled with alarm for his parents and little sister, but tim was hopeful that everything would come out right, and that, by the time the sun rose, they would be so far advanced on their way to fort meade that the danger would be virtually over. "ye knows," he continued, "that yer fayther is acquainted wid the way as well as yerself; the horses are frish and strong, and he'll not spare thim; the road, too, is not as long as by the rig'lar route that we've follyed so often." "that is true, but it must be all of thirty miles, and is really much greater because of the ridges, hills, streams, and difficult places in the path, which will compel many detours." "and the same will have to be observed by the spalpeens that may be thrying to overtake thim." "but they understand the business better." "i'm not so sartin of that," sturdily replied tim; "yer fayther is no green hand." "that isn't what i mean; i'm thinking of mother and dot; he will have to accommodate himself to them, and in case the indians do come up with them----" "arrah, now, what are ye thinking of?" demanded tim impatiently; "if ye want to go to specylatin' and 'ifing,' ye may refar to oursilves and say that if the spalpeens come down here wid sitting bull laading the same, and they sit fire to this ilegant risidence, what will become of us?" "that is very well, tim, and you mean right, but i shall not rest a minute until i know they have reached the fort. it's strange, too, about plummer." "it's my opinion," remarked the irishman, lowering his voice, as though afraid of being overheard, "that he's in throuble." "why do you think so?" "because he did not show up before we lift; he hadn't any farther to go than mesilf, and it was nearly an hour after i got back before we come away, but there was no sign of him." "did you hear no firing?" "not that i remimber; which reminds me that it was also quaar that the sioux could have shot down the cattle as they did, so near the house, widout any of us noting the noise of their guns." "it was singular, but perhaps you were all inside at the time, busy at something. at any rate, instead of our hurrying back to the fort, we will do our best to find father and mother, and stick by them to the end." "i'm wid ye there," was the hearty response of tim; "i'd like to give plummer a helping hand, but see no way to do the same, and it is likely that he can get along better widout us than wid us." the two talked a long time, for their hearts were full. it was not until midnight that a feeling of drowsiness began creeping over them. tim's remarks began to grow slower and more disconnected, until finally he failed to answer at all. finding that he was asleep, warren composed himself as comfortably as he could, and soon joined him in the land of dreams. the snow continued sifting softly downward, and rattled against the branches and leaves which composed a portion of their house. the temperature sank as the night progressed, and the situation of the couple, no less than that of their friends, became anything but hopeful. they were still a long way from the post, where they could feel secure, and the indians were certain to press them hard. they were so much more numerous than the little band of fugitives that the advantage lay wholly with them. but the night passed without disturbance. then the pony and the two youths awoke simultaneously, for they were aroused by one of the most startling causes that can be conceived: it was the screaming whinny of tim brophy's horse--a cry rarely heard from the animal, and only when in the very extremity of mortal terror. chapter vii. stirring times. warren starr and tim brophy sprang up at the same instant. the gray light of the early wintry morning was stealing through the rocky solitude, the snow had ceased falling, and the weather was colder than on the preceding evening. the pony also began struggling to his feet, but the youths in their excitement paid no heed to him. "it's billy," whispered tim. "yes; let's see what is the matter." the young irishman had formed the decision a moment before, for he was as ready to defend his horse as a friend. he bounded out from the rude shelter, with his companion at his heels. it was but a short distance to the spot where he had left the animal to spend the night. the boys dropped their blankets, but each grasped his winchester, confident that there was call for its use. it was on a small natural clearing, where, after grazing a few minutes in the dark, the pony had lain down to sleep, his instinct leading him to select the side of a towering rock, where he was well protected from the falling snow. this bare place was less than a quarter of an acre in extent, and narrowed to what might be called a point, where the horse had found refuge from the storm. surrounded by bowlders, varying in height from eight or more feet to twice that extent, his only means of entering or leaving was through the opening at the extreme end, which was not less than a rod in width. the pony had probably risen to his feet with the first coming of daylight, when he was confronted by the most terrifying sight conceivable; a colossal grizzly bear stood in the middle of the "door," calmly surveying him, and evidently of the belief that he had come upon the most palatable kind of breakfast, which was already secured to him beyond possibility of loss. when it is borne in mind that the pony was caught in a trap as secure as an iron cage, it will be understood why the intelligent animal, in the agony of helplessness, emitted that astounding cry which rang like the wail of doom through the snowy solitude. thousands of his species live for years and die without giving expression to that horrible outcry, for it requires the agony of fear to call it forth. the horse has five times the intelligence of the bear, but the latter was not stupid enough to fail to see his advantage, or to allow it to slip from him. the enormous trail which he had made in the snow was noticed by tim brophy before seeing the brute, and he identified it at a glance, his only fear being that he might arrive too late to save his pony. the latter cowered against the rock, his fright so pitiable that, in the stirring moments, both youths were touched with sympathy for him. "begorra, but isn't he a bouncer?" whispered tim, coming to a halt. "i niver looked upon as big a one." "has he hurt billy?" asked warren, who, as will be remembered, was a few paces behind him while making the brief run. "he has scared him out of ten years' growth, and it's mesilf that's going to pay the same compliment to the spalpeen." "be careful, tim! you know how hard it is to kill one of those creatures, and when they are roused----" further utterance was cut short by the report of tim's gun. the young irishman's failing was his impetuosity. when he saw his services needed, he was so eager to give them that he frequently threw caution to the winds, and plunged into the fray like a diver going off the rocks. halting less than fifty feet away, he brought his rifle to a level and let fly. it was as impossible for him to miss as it was to inflict a mortal wound, and the ball meant for the skull of the brute found lodgment elsewhere. the bear appeared to be in the act of rising partly on his haunches, when the report, and probably a sharp twinge in his shoulder, apprised him of what was going on at the rear. the contemplated feast was not to be without its unpleasant interruption. he uttered a low growl and came straight for the two youths. their rifles being of the magazine kind, they were prepared to open a bombardment, which they did without delay; but after a number of shots had been fired, and the mountainous animal continued to sweep down upon them, warren called out: "let's run, tim! we need a cannon to stop him; we must find some place to shelter us." not doubting that his comrade would instantly follow, warren wheeled about and dashed off without paying heed to the direction; he had no time to make any calculations. despite the fall of snow, there were only two or three inches on the ground, just enough to interfere with rapid travelling. young starr had not taken a dozen steps, when his foot turned on a smooth stone and he pitched headlong, with his gun flying from his grasp. he was not hurt, and he bounded up again as if made of rubber. he supposed the animal, which can lumber along at a speedy gait despite its awkwardness, was on his heels, but the furtive glance over his shoulder showed nothing of him, and the youth plunged forward and caught up his weapon as may be said on the fly. with its recovery came something like confidence again, and he turned about to learn how tim brophy was making out. it was just like the plucky fellow not to dash after his comrade, but to stand his ground, when the most experienced and the bravest hunter in the world would have lost no time in increasing the distance between him and the brute. the latter had scared billy half to death, and his master meant to punish him therefor, so he held his ground, and managed to send in another shot while the grizzly was approaching, but which did no more to check his charge than a wad from a pop-gun. this reckless daring on the part of tim would have brought disaster, but for an unexpected interference. billy, the pony, no sooner saw the terrible brute turn his back upon him and lumber off, than he understood that the way of escape for him had opened. his panic departed like a flash, and he plunged through the opening with a snort of triumph; but his line of flight took him of necessity along that followed by the grizzly himself, who was advancing to the assault of the brave young irishman. there may have been a feeling of wrathful resentment thrilling the nerves of the gallant pony, or it is not beyond belief that he understood the danger of his master. be that as it may, he was no sooner beside the huge brute, who slightly turned his head on hearing the clatter of the hoofs, than he let drive with both hind feet, landing them with such terrific force against the iron ribs of the monster that he fell half upon his side, after being driven several feet beyond the path. "good for you!" called the delighted tim, "let him have another broadside, billy, and we'll finish him----" the assault of the pony diverted the attention of the grizzly for a moment from the youth to the assailant. he was thoroughly roused, and made for the horse, who showed more sense than his master by dashing off at full speed. this being beyond the attainment of the bear, it may be said that billy's escape was absolute. the sudden check in tim's words was caused by bruin, who had passed but a few paces beyond the youth, when, seeing how useless it was to pursue the pony, he wheeled and once more charged upon the master. the moment had arrived for the young rancher to call his legs into service. he was willing to run when the necessity was apparent, and none could excel him as a sprinter--that is, none of his kind. he assuredly would have been overtaken before he could climb any of the bowlders or rocks, or get out of the path, had not a bullet bored its way directly through the brain of the grizzly, and brought him to earth at the moment when the life of the fugitive hung on a thread. chapter viii. starcus. warren starr was terrified for the moment by the peril of his companion. while running toward him he saw the grizzly rise partly on his haunches to seize tim, who was within his grasp, but at that instant the brute toppled over, and with one or two struggles was dead. it was an exciting moment, but a singular discovery came to young starr--the shot that slew the bear was fired neither by himself nor tim! without waiting to investigate, he dashed to where his panting friend was looking down at the fallen monster, as if uncertain what to do. "gracious, tim!" called warren, as he came up, "that was the closest call you ever had." "it's qu'ar," replied the other, "that after we had pumped about a ton of lead into him without hurting the spalpeen, he should dhrop down from a single shot." "that's because it was aimed right." "but ye had no bitter chance than meself, nor what ye also was given a few minutes ago." "but it was not i, tim, who fired the last shot." "what are ye talking about?" demanded the other. "i had no chance to shoot me rifle, and who ilse could have done the same?" "but i tell you i did not fire; i was about to do so, when someone else saved me the trouble; i am sure i couldn't have done any better than i did before." "thin who was the mon?" the question naturally caused the couple to look around in quest of the unknown friend. they saw him at the first glance. "there he is! look at him!" whispered tim brophy. less than a hundred yards away stood an indian warrior, calmly watching them. he had mounted a bowlder, so that his figure was brought out in clear relief. he was in indian costume, most of it being hidden by a heavy blanket gathered around the shoulders, but the leggings and moccasons showed beneath, and the head was ornamented with stained eagle-feathers. the noticeable fact about him, however, was that his black hair was short, and the feathers were fixed in a sort of band, which clasped the forehead. the rather pleasing face was fantastically daubed with paint, and he held a fine rifle in his right hand, the other being concealed under his blanket. his action, or rather want of action, was striking. the bowlder which supported him was no more stationary than he. he gazed fixedly at the youths, but made no signs and uttered no word. "begorra, but he's a shtrange gintleman," muttered tim. "i wonder if he's posin' for his picter." "his firing of the gun proves that he is a friend," said warren; "so we have nothing to fear from him." "if that's the case why doesn't he come forward and interdooce himself? whisht now!" what did the irishman do but pucker up his mouth, whistle, and beckon to the indian to approach. the latter, however, did not move a muscle. "helloa!" called warren; "we thank you for your kindness; won't you come forward and join us?" this appeal was as fruitless as the other. "if the copper gintleman won't come to us i'm going to him." it was just like tim to start forward to carry out his intention, though a sense of delicacy restrained his companion from joining him. the indian, however, nipped the little scheme in the bud. the irishman had taken only two or three steps, when the sioux, as he evidently was, turned about, leaped lightly down from the bowlder, and vanished. "well, i'll be hanged!" exclaimed the disappointed tim, stopping short; "ye may be a good rifle shot, but be the same token ye are not fond of selict company," and with a laugh he walked back to his friend, whose face was so grave as to attract the notice of the irishman. "what's the matter, warren?" "do you know who that indian is?" "i niver have saan him before." "yes, you have, many a time; he's been at our house within the past few weeks." "who is he?" "starcus." "git out!" "i'm not mistaken," insisted young starr, compressing his lips and shaking his head. "he's painted and dressed like his people, but his short hair made me suspicious, and when he turned to jump down from the bowlder, he made a movement that fixed his identity beyond all doubt." "wal, ye're so sartin about it that i can't help belaving ye; but if it was starcus, why did he act that way? why didn't he spake, and why didn't he coom forward and shake hands wid us?" "that's what troubles me; it wasn't like him. it makes me believe he has joined the hostiles." "but if that is the case why did he interfere whin the grizzly was about to chaw me up?" "his whole action was strange, but i explain it this way: he was prowling through this place, probably to help the bucks that are now on the warpath, when he heard our guns, made his way forward, and seeing the bear about to pounce upon you, he fired with the wish to save you. your danger caused him to feel friendly toward us; for otherwise, instead of killing the bear he would have shot you and me." "maybe he fired at me instead of the bear," suggested tim, "and it was a chance shot that saved meself." "that cannot be, for he is too good a marksman to make such a miss. i have fired at a target with him and never saw a better shot than he. then, too, when he found he missed, he could have turned his winchester on us in turn and brought us both down." "and ye think after his doing us that kindness, he became an inimy agin?" "he has caught the craze that is setting his people wild, and though you didn't recognize him yesterday among that party of bucks near the house, i believe he was either there or was one of the horsemen that stampeded the cattle. he is with them body and soul. his last shot was given through impulse. of course he knew us both, and acted from a generous motive. he may have stood there debating with himself whether to continue that friendship, when your advance scattered all his good resolutions to the winds. he has gone off to join the others, and when we meet again he will be our bitter foe, eager to serve us both as he served the grizzly. let us not deceive ourselves about that." "there's one thing that looks well," remarked tim a moment later; "if starcus is wid the ither spalpeens, they haven't found your fayther and mither, for they're not in this part of the counthry." "that gives me relief," said warren, with a glowing face; "the folks must be many miles away, and these people are off their track altogether. father will waste no time, but push on. this snow is not deep enough to bother them, and they ought to be safely within fort meade by nightfall." "but what about us?" asked tim significantly. "this isn't our right latitude. we must pull out as quickly as we can. our ponies are fresh, and can travel as fast as any of the indian ones. we haven't far to go to reach the open country, and then we'll head for the fort, unless we conclude to hunt for the folks before reaching there. in the meantime, tim, i'm hungry enough to eat my shoes." "i'm wid ye there." "we shall have to wait here long enough to cook a steak from that bear. he seems to be in fine condition, and will give us a good meal." "there!" laughed the irishman; "i knowed i had forgot something. your mither give me a good, big lunch for us both whin i was laving yesterday, and it is in the residence beyant, onless yer pony ate up the same whin we warn't watching him." "little fear of that," replied the pleased warren. "it is hardly the sort of food that he fancies. come on; let's have a good meal, and then we'll be off." chapter ix. on the bank of a stream. it need not be said that george starr wasted no time. halting only long enough to say a few words to tim brophy before he set out to warn the son of his danger, he resumed his journey toward fort meade, some thirty miles away, at the base of the black hills. he drew up beside the pony on which his wife sat with dot in front. the pack-horse did not require leading, but as his load was lighter than either of the others, he kept his head at the haunch of the others, and plodded along as contentedly as they. though the route to the post by means of the regular trail was longer, it was always used when safe, because it was easy travelling throughout its whole extent. the country before the husband and wife was varied. there were miles of open plain, over which they could ride at a gallop, while in other places, the rocky ridges, broken timber, and gullies compelled detours that were likely to render a two days' journey necessary. in addition to all this several streams must be crossed, and these were held in great dread, for if swimming became necessary, the plight of the little company, with the thermometer striking steadily below freezing point, would be pitiful indeed. the ranchman was resolved to save his wife and child from such an affliction, by constructing some kind of a raft, though the delay involved in such a work might solve the question of life and death. "i have never been over this route--that is, to any extent," he remarked, after they had ridden a short time on a brisk walk; "i have followed the cattle for some miles among the hills yonder, but, as you know, we always used the regular trail when going to the fort." "this is shorter," replied the wife, "because it is the most direct, and though there may be difficulties in the way, i am hopeful that we shall have no serious trouble." "i hope so, too, but if i am not mistaken, we must cross more than one stream, and if they happen to be deep, it will be no trifling matter. how do you feel, dot?" he asked, looking fondly at the little one, whose head was about the only portion visible beneath the folds of the blanket wrapped about her. "i'm all right," replied the sweet voice, while the bright eyes twinkled happily, as though no thought of danger or sorrow had ever dimmed them. "how long do you think you can ride on the back of sally?" "just as long as she can carry me." "that's good," laughed the parent, who could not help reaching across from the saddle and pinching the chubby cheek; "i want to give you a good long ride, and we may keep it up after dark." "that don't make any difference to me, for i can sleep here as well as in my bed at home. mamma will take care of me, won't you?" she asked, twisting her head about and looking up in the face of her parent. the latter leaned down and kissed her, murmuring: "yes, with my life, precious one; but we are in the keeping of god, and he is always merciful and kind." "i know that," said the child thoughtfully, "for hasn't he given me the best parents in the world? oh, look! papa and mamma!" she added, forcing her head farther out of its environments, and pointing to the top of the elevation they were approaching. the sight was a pretty one indeed. a noble buck had arrived first, from the other side of the ridge, and paused on the highest point. with his head erect, he looked down in wonderment at the party approaching him. he made a fine picture, with his antlers high in air and his whole form thrown in relief against the leaden sky beyond. "what a fine mark," said the rancher admiringly; "i never saw a larger buck." "you don't intend to shoot him?" "no; we have all the food we are likely to want, and the sound of the gun might be dangerous to us, when there's no saying that other of the sioux are not in the neighborhood." "isn't that too bad!" the regretful exclamation of dot was caused by the disappearance of the animal. the steady advance of the party was more than the timid creature could face. he whirled about and was off like a flash, to the keen regret of dot, who was hoping for a closer acquaintance. the parents smiled at the innocence of the little one, and assured her it would have to be caught and tamed before allowing any companionship from anyone. a few minutes later the friends rode to the top of the elevation, halting at the very spot where the buck had stood but a few minutes before. "just what i feared!" exclaimed the rancher regretfully. as he spoke he pointed to the westward, where the gleam of water was seen, revealing a winding stream, which it was necessary to cross before continuing their journey. "it is not broad and may not be deep," remarked the wife. "that can be ascertained only by investigation." he halted long enough to take a sweeping survey of the country behind them. there might have been indians watching, but, if so, he detected no signs of them. the little party were conspicuous objects, but it was an easy matter for anyone to keep out of sight of the keenest vision on the crest of the elevation. the stream that had caught his eye was about half a mile away, the intervening ground being a comparatively level and grassy plain, but beyond the water stretched a hilly and wooded section, which was likely to offer serious obstacles to their progress. "we shall have snow before night," remarked mr. starr, glancing up and around at the sky, "and if it amounts to much it will make more trouble." "let us ride faster, then, while we may," said his wife, urging her pony into a gallop, which was instantly imitated by the other, though the gait was so distasteful to the pack-horse that he held back until sharply spoken to by his master. finally all three struck a pace which speedily carried them to the stream that crossed their path. it seemed odd that while there was plenty of timber on the other side, even to the water's edge, not a stick was on the bank where the fugitives halted. if it should be found necessary to make a raft with which to cross, mr. starr might well ask himself where the material was to be procured, since he saw none within reach. the stream was less than a hundred yards wide and the current not swift. the water was roiled to that extent that the bottom could be seen only a few paces from shore, but the slope was so gradual that the rancher was hopeful that the horse would be able to wade it. he scanned the water and finally turned to his wife with a smile: "where do you think we had better try it, molly?" "i know of no way of learning the depth of water except by test," she replied; "if it were clearer, we could make use of our eyes." "i wonder if it is clearer up yonder," he remarked, looking at a clump of bushes above them and some rods in extent. "it strikes me that it may be; anyway, i will find out." instead of riding to the spot he dismounted, and, rifle in hand, walked the short distance necessary. as he did so, naturally he gave more heed to the stream than to his footsteps, for it was the former in which his interest lay. dot laughed merrily when he stumbled, and he looked about and shook his head in mock anger at her. the bushes he approached were no more than three or four feet in height, not very dense, and continued with straggling interruptions as far as the eye could trace the winding stream. mrs. starr, who was attentively watching her husband, saw him pause on reaching the stunted growth. he looked at the water and then at the bushes. then he suddenly leaped back with an exclamation and came hastening to his wife, his white face and staring eyes showing that he had made a horrifying discovery. chapter x. bent arm and his band. george starr was so agitated that, forgetting the presence of his little child, he impulsively spoke the truth, while yet a few paces away: "plummer is in those bushes." "is he----" mrs. starr hesitated with the dreadful word unuttered. "yes; he is dead; killed by the indians!" the wife gave a gasp, and the husband added: "the poor fellow lies stretched out, stark and stiff, where he was shot down by the sioux. he must have been killed shortly after leaving the house." "where is his horse?" "i suppose it has been stolen. it is a sad thing, but poor plummer is with his maker; it won't do for us to wait any longer; i don't understand how we have escaped thus far, for we are in greater danger than i had supposed. we must cross the stream without delay, even if we have to swim our horses." "i am ready," said mrs. starr calmly; "lead the way." "i hope it will not be necessary to subject you and dot to the trial, but there is not a minute to spare." with his lips compressed, the rancher hastily remounted his pony and turned his head toward the water. "let me keep in advance," he said, "and you can tell what to do." the obedient horse sniffed the water, but, without hesitation, stepped in, sinking to his knees within a yard of the bank. a rod farther the depth had not materially increased, and, turning his head, he signified to his wife to follow. she clasped dot a little closer to her breast, spoke quietly to her animal, and he obeyed without faltering. the water steadily but slowly deepened, and when the middle of the stream was reached it was at the stirrups of the leader. he withdrew his feet and pushed on, the pony cautiously advancing, and the hope growing that the stream would be forded without trouble. a rod farther, and mrs. starr uttered a slight exclamation. she saw the steed of her husband suddenly sink, and thought he was going entirely under. but he did not, and, by a quick raising of his feet, the rider saved them from wetting. his animal still retained a firm foothold, and, quickly recovering, kept forward. now the water began shallowing, and, with a relief beyond words, the rancher reached dry land without having suffered any inconvenience. "thank heaven!" he exclaimed, turning about and watching his wife, who guided her animal over the invisible trail until she was beside him on the hard earth. it required no little skill on her part, for when she withdrew her foot from her stirrup, and was obliged not only to hold her own poise, but to take care of dot, her task became delicate and difficult. but the little one behaved like a heroine. she did not speak or stir, through fear of disturbing her parent, and was as relieved as both when the current was safely forded. "are there any more like this?" asked the wife. "there are other streams, but whether they can be forded or not remains to be learned." the bank sloped upward to a height of a dozen feet, and beyond it declined nearly as much, and then stretched away in an open plain for more than a mile, before breaking into rough, rocky country, where they were quite sure to find greater obstructions confronting them than any yet encountered. "oh, see there!" called out dot. flakes of scurrying snow were in the air, and her father supposed she referred to them. "yes," he replied, "we shall have to ride for a while through a snow storm." "i know that, but it isn't what i mean; yonder is someone following us." her position in the arms of her mother gave her opportunity to look back over the stream they had just crossed, while the attention of her parents was directed elsewhere. her words caused both to glance behind them, where they witnessed a startling scene. a sioux indian, astride of a pony, had halted with the fore feet of the animal in the margin of the water. directly behind him was a second horseman, advancing slowly, and immediately to the rear of him appeared a third, while the head and shoulders of a fourth were rising to view over the bank in the path of the others. and there was no saying how many others made up the procession, streaming toward the ford in the footsteps of the fugitives. "molly," said mr. starr, in a low voice, "ride over the top of the hill as quickly as you can." "but what will you do?" "never mind; obey me at once or we are lost." [illustration: a hot pursuit.] she obeyed without remonstrance, though her fear at that moment was more for her husband than for herself and child. she was quick-witted enough to jerk the reins sharply, so that her pony passed out of sight before the pursuers could suspect her purpose. but the moment she was behind the sheltering swell, she checked her horse and waited for her husband. the latter decided on his course of action the moment the peril broke upon him. he calmly confronted the advancing bucks and held himself ready to dispute their crossing. unless he kept them in check and delayed the pursuit, nothing could save his family and himself. the foremost sioux evidently was the leader. starr recognized him, despite his paint, as a fellow who had visited his home on several occasions, and who was known as bent arm, because of a peculiar rigidity of the left arm, made by some wound received years before. while the white and red men sat on their ponies facing each other the remaining warriors continued coming into view until five of them were grouped behind the leader. there they sat--grim, silent, and watchful--leaving matters wholly in the hands of the one in front. the latter, observing the rancher at bay, called to him in fair english: "wait dere--surrender--won't hurt." "why do you ask me to surrender? we are not enemies," called back the white man. "wait dere," repeated bent arm; "want to talk wid you." "we are talking now; stay where you are, and let me hear what you have to say." "we go over--we talk better dere." it was plain that the sioux was not satisfied with the action of the rancher's wife. she and her child were beyond sight, and it looked as if the parley of her husband was meant to give her a chance to get beyond reach. valuable time was passing, and unless they acted promptly, they would throw away an opportunity that would never come to them again. george starr read their purpose as plainly as if they had announced it in so many words. further talk was useless; the sioux were bent on making him and his family prisoners, and little mercy would be shown them. he knew the dear ones were but a few paces away, and his wife would never leave the spot so long as he was in danger. the words had hardly fallen from the lips of bent arm when his pony began stepping farther into the water, while his companions closed in behind him. striking his heels sharply against the sides of his horse as the rancher drew his head about, he sent the animal over the swell in a couple of bounds beyond reach of any shots that might be sent after him. he wondered a little that the indians had not announced their presence by a volley that would have brought him from the saddle, but rightly judged the reason to be that they preferred to make the little party prisoners, considering them as good as already secured. "stay where you are!" he called to his wondering wife. "i am going to make a fight with them. our only hope is in keeping them back until it is dark." he was out of the saddle while speaking, and, dropping on his hands and knees, crawled up the swell and looked over. chapter xi. at bay. george starr's pony, left to himself, wandered off to the side of the other one, on which sat mrs. starr, with dot. the latter reached out her chubby hand and patted the silken nose of the intelligent horse, who liked the caress. the mother was too agitated to notice this by-play, but kept watch for her husband. the latter crept to within a foot or two of the top of the swell, when he quickly but cautiously raised his head and peered over at the sioux. but a minute or two had passed since exchanging words with bent arm, but that brief period was improved as much by one party as the other. the sioux leader's horse was in the stream to the depth of his knees, and the second indian was in the act of entering, with the others close behind him. it was no time for hesitation, for that meant death. starr shoved his winchester in front, so that the muzzle projected over the swell, took deliberate aim at bent arm, and let fly. the distance was short, the rancher was an excellent marksman, and the bullet bored its way through the breast of the painted miscreant, who hardly knew what hurt him. with a screech, he threw up his arms, one grasping his gun, and toppled from the back of his pony, falling with a loud splash into the water, where for the moment he disappeared under the surface. george starr was never cooler in his life. he was fighting not only for his own existence, but for those who were dearer to him than that existence. he knew the mercilessness of the red men near at hand, and he was equally merciless to them. this proceeding, as may be supposed, caused consternation for a moment among the advancing sioux. the warrior immediately behind the leader stopped his pony abruptly, stared at the tuft of grass above which the faint puff of smoke was curling; and then, fearful of a second shot aimed at himself, whirled his animal about and sent him at one bound up the bank of the stream, where his companions, no less dismayed than he, threw themselves forward on the backs of their horses, to shield themselves from the aim of the rancher. it was at this crisis that george starr committed two blunders which threatened the very doom he was trying to escape. one of those errors, however, did credit to his heart, if not to his head. having opened the ball, he should have pushed things unmercifully. he was well aware of the venom of those red men, and, with his magazine rifle at command, he ought to have kept up an unremitting fire until he had tumbled several more to the ground, and driven the survivors beyond sight and the power of harm. it was his reluctance to perpetrate such slaughter, and the weak hope that he had already accomplished that result, that stayed his hand, at the moment when he should have steeled his feelings against sympathy. the other equally serious mistake was in staying where he was, prone on the ground, with a watchful eye on the marauders. he saw, when it was too late, that he should have dashed back to his pony, and leaped into the saddle and ridden with his wife, in all haste, for the refuge a mile away. whether that would have proven a refuge or not was uncertain, but with the check given the sioux he would have secured a start that promised everything. night was approaching, and, in the gathering gloom, it ought not to have been difficult, with the advantage named, to throw his pursuers off the trail. but he tarried until the chance was irrevocably gone. the sioux proved on more than one occasion, during their recent troubles in the west, that they were capable of daring, coolness, and heroism, and are quick to recover from a panic. when driven to bay they will fight like wild-cats, and the bleaching bones of many a brave soldier and officer bear eloquent witness to these qualities on their part. instead of breaking into a wild flight beyond the sheltering bank on the other side of the stream, as the rancher expected them to do, they held their places on the backs of their ponies, and, leaning over so as to protect themselves, returned the fire of the white man. looking across the narrow stream, they saw the slouch hat rising in the short grass, just behind the projecting muzzle of the winchester, and a couple of them aimed and fired. but the rancher was too alert to be caught in that fashion. the moment he observed the action of the red men, he dropped his head behind the swell of earth, and the bullets clipped the grass and scattered the dirt harmlessly within a few inches of his crown. "be careful!" called the anxious wife, who read the meaning of the flying soil; "they will hit you." "have no fear of me," replied the husband, without looking around; "i am all right; keep back where you are and hold yourself ready to ride as fast as you can when i give the word." the rancher now did that which he should have done in the first place: he doffed his hat and laid it on the ground beside him. it was too conspicuous under the circumstances, and the sioux were on the watch for it. waiting several minutes after the firing of the two shots, he stealthily raised his head high enough to look through the grass in front. an astonishing sight rewarded him. in the brief interval that had passed after firing his rifle, the five indians had dashed over the swell with their ponies where the latter were out of sight, and, flinging themselves on the ground, took precisely the same position as his own. they were now as safe from harm as himself. the duel was one of vigilance, caution, skill, and watchfulness, with the chances against the white man. the keen gaze of the latter, wandering over the surface of the stream, detected a dark object some distance to the right, as it showed indistinctly on the surface, disappearing, and then slowly coming to view again farther down. he required no one to tell him that it was the victim of his marksmanship, drifting out of sight, as many a one had done before, when trying to stay the advancing tide of the hated caucasian. it struck the rancher that it would be well to let the sioux know that he was still on guard. he caught glimpses here and there of the upper part of a repulsive face, with its long black hair and serpent-like eyes, on the alert to catch him unawares, and he fired at the nearest. the aim was good, but there was no reason to believe that he had inflicted harm, though he must have come nigh it. strange it is that in the most trying moments, when it would seem that a trifling thought should be impossible on the part of a person, he sometimes gives way to a fancy that is of that nature. recalling the story which he had read when a boy, and which is familiar to all our readers, the rancher now picked up his hat at his side and gently raised it to view, taking care to lower his own head beyond reach of harm. instantly a couple of rifles cracked from the other side of the stream, and he smiled grimly when he saw the marks of the bullets in the crown. "they shoot well," he said, turning his face toward his wife and holding up the hat, "but they made a slight mistake that time." if the sioux supposed that the last shots were fatal, they were likely to repeat their attempt to cross. that would never do, and, more with a view of letting them know no harm had resulted, than in the hope of inflicting injury, the rancher took aim at what seemed to be the forehead of one of the warriors, a short distance up stream, and fired. to his amazement, the wild screech left no doubt that the shot was fatal. the bullet had bored its way through the bronzed skull of the miscreant, and the force of assaulting sioux was now reduced by one-third. chapter xii. facing westward. the rancher was astonished beyond measure at the success of his shot. he had looked for nothing of the kind, but there could be no mistake as to the result; there was nothing to be gained by any pretence on the part of the sioux. he certainly was as dead as dead could be. how he longed, like a certain famous general, for the coming of night! a little more darkness and he would flee with his wife and child under its friendly cover, and place a safe distance between them and their enemies, before the latter could learn of their flight. several minutes passed without a demonstration on either side, but while matters stood thus, a new danger presented itself to the rancher. why should the sioux stay where they were? what was to prevent them moving farther up or down the bank, under the screen it afforded, and crossing unobserved? the winding course of the current gave every chance of doing this, and surely they were not likely to forget such an obvious course. the thought had hardly presented itself to the watcher when that very thing was attempted. the one who essayed it, however, forgot the caution he should have remembered. the slowly settling night and the falling snow may have misled him, but when the warrior rode his pony into the stream at a point considerably above, starr observed him at the moment he began descending the bank. this was something that must be nipped in the bud. he shifted his position to where the grass gave slightly better protection, and sighted with the utmost care and deliberation. the shot was successful, but not precisely as he counted upon. the bullet, instead of striking the rider, pierced the brain of the pony, who reared frantically, plunged forward on his knees, and rolled upon his side, the sioux dexterously saving himself by leaping away and scurrying behind the swell before the white man could fire a second time. "if they try it at that point, they will do so at some other," was the conclusion of the rancher, turning his gaze down stream. but the current made such a sharp bend near at hand, that his view was shortened, and the effort could be successfully made without detection on his part. an unexpected diversion occurred at this moment. the pack-horse, that had been contentedly cropping the grass near at hand and paying no heed to what was going on about him, wandered toward the bank, and was in imminent peril of being shot by the vigilant sioux before he could be turned away. mrs. starr called sharply to him, and her voice caused the prostrate husband to look around. the pony at that moment was ascending the swell, to go down on the other side to the water, where he would have been in plain sight of the red men. fearful that words would not check him, the rancher sprang up and, bending his head to save himself from his foes, ran the few steps necessary to reach the animal. catching hold of his bridle, he jerked his head in the opposite direction, and, to teach him prudence, delivered a vigorous kick. the startled animal headed toward the west and broke into a gallop straight across the plain. "let him go," said the impatient owner, looking after him: "he is too lazy to travel far, and we'll follow him soon." "why not do so now?" asked his wife. "i fear that they are looking for such a move, and will be across before we can gain sufficient start." "but they may do so now." "am i not watching them?" asked the husband, beginning to creep up the swell again, but pausing before he was high enough to discern the other side. "they may cross above or below, where you cannot see them," remarked the wife, giving utterance to the very fear that had troubled him some minutes before. "they may do so, but i have just defeated such an attempt, and they will probably wait a while before repeating it." "then we can have no more favorable time to leave them than now." "such would be the fact, if i only knew of a surety that they would wait a while." "i am afraid you are making a mistake, george." "it may be, but my judgment is against what you propose. suppose that, at the moment of starting, they should appear on this side; they would run us down within a few hundred yards." "are not our ponies as fleet as theirs?" "probably; but with dot to look after, you would have more than your hands full, and nothing could save us." "i could manage her very well; but do as you think best. we can only pray to heaven to protect us all." looking to the westward, the rancher saw the pack-pony just vanishing from sight in the gloom. brief as was the time that he had left the sioux without watching, he felt that it had been too long, and he now made his way up the swell until he could peer over at the other bank, where the red men were awaiting the very chance he gave them that moment. the narrowest escape of his life followed. providentially, his first glance was directed at the precise spot where a crouching sioux made a slight movement with his rifle, which gave the white man an instant's warning of his peril. he ducked his head, and had he not instinctively closed his eyes, would have been blinded by the dust and snow thrown against his face, as the leaden ball whizzed through the air, falling on the prairie a long distance away. in its flight it passed directly over the heads of the wife and child, who noticed the peculiar whistling sound a few feet above them. but they were as safe from such danger as if a mile away. the swell of the bank would not allow any missile to come nigh enough to harm them. "don't be frightened," he said, with a reassuring smile, "they can't touch you as long as they are on the other side." "but how long will they stay there?" asked the wife, unable to repress her uneasiness over the tardiness of her husband. "molly," said he, stirred by a sudden thought, "why not ride after the pack-horse?" "and leave you here?" was the astonished question. "only for a few minutes; you will gain a good start, and it won't take me long to come up with you. i can put my pony on a run, and we shall gain invaluable time." but this was asking more than the obedient wife was willing to grant. no possible circumstances could justify her in deserting her husband. if he fell, she had no wish to escape. dot, who had held her peace so long, now spoke: "papa, don't ask us to leave you, 'cause we don't want to. i asked mamma to let me go to you, but she says no." tears filled the eyes of the father, and his voice trembled as he said: "very well, little one; stay with your mamma, and when the time comes for us to start we will go together." "but why don't you go now?" persisted the child, taking her cue, perhaps, from the words her mother had spoken. "i will not keep you waiting long," he assured her, more affected by the question of the child than by the arguments of her mother. shifting the point of observation, the rancher raised his head just enough, cautiously parting the grass in front, to permit him to see the other bank, becoming more dimly visible in the falling snow and gathering gloom. he scanned the points whence had come the shots, but could discover nothing of his enemies. they might be there, but if so they were invisible, as could readily be the case; but, somehow or other, the conviction grew upon him that they were moving, and that to postpone his departure longer was to invite the worst fate imaginable for himself and dear ones. "we cannot leave too soon," he exclaimed, hastening to carry out the purpose that never ought to have been delayed so long. chapter xiii. in the fringe of the woods. fully realizing the mistake he had made in waiting, the rancher now did his best to improve the precious time at his disposal. his own pony had remained obediently near his companion, while the brush was going on between his master and the sioux on the other side of the stream. the former hastily climbed into the saddle, and taking the reins in hand, looked at his wife. "are you ready, molly?" "i have been for a long time." "come on; keep close to me." he spoke briskly to his horse, who broke into a swift gallop, which was imitated so promptly by the other that the couple advanced abreast toward the wooded section. it was no time for conversation, and the progress continued in silence. the snow was now falling thick and fast, and the gloom had deepened to that extent that they could not see objects more than a hundred feet away. both wife and husband continually glanced behind them, for they were almost certain that the red men were in the act of crossing the stream at the moment the start was made, and could not be far to the rear. true, the fugitives had much in their favor. the keen eyes of the pursuers could detect their trail in the snowy ground, but not for long. by and by they might trace it only by dropping down from their ponies and using the sense of feeling. this would compel them to proceed carefully, and hold them well to the rear while the whites were using the occasion to the utmost, and continually gaining ground. had the route to fort meade been level and unobstructed, they could have asked nothing more favorable. they would have forced their ponies to the utmost, and by the time the sun rose the vengeful red men would be placed hopelessly behind. the straining vision saw nothing but the darkness and snow in the direction of the stream already crossed, but they could never feel relieved of the dreadful fear until safely within the military post of the black hills. "oh, papa, i see a horse!" was the startling exclamation of dot, whom her mother had supposed, because of her stillness and immobility, to be asleep. "where?" demanded her father, grasping his winchester and looking affrightedly around. "not there," replied the child with a laugh, working her arm out of its environments, and pointing ahead. a solitary animal was observed standing as motionless as a statue a short distance in advance. apprehensive of some trap by the indians, the father brought his pony to a sudden stop, his wife instantly imitating him, and both peered ahead at the strange form. they could see no rider, though there was something on the animal's back, which might have been a warrior lying flat, so as to protect his body from the rifle of the white man, or, what was equally probable, the owner was standing on the ground hidden by the horse, and awaiting his chance to send in a fatal shot. "what's the matter?" asked dot, puzzled by the action of her parents. "s-h! we are afraid a bad indian is there." "why, can't you see that's jerry?" jerry was the name of the pack pony. "of course it is. why didn't we think of it?" asked the father the next moment, relieved beyond measure by the discovery. jerry seemed to be of the opinion that it was the place of his friends to make the advances, for he did not stir until they rode up beside him. the lazy fellow was found with his load intact. he had been given all the time he could ask for his journey to this point, and evidently was a little sulky over the treatment received at the hands, or rather the foot, of his master, for his head had to be jerked several times before he faced about, and then it required more vigorous treatment to force him into a lazy gallop. luckily, the greater part of the plain had been crossed before this reunion took place, and the party had not gone far when the rancher allowed the animals to drop to a walk. in front loomed a dark mass, which he recognized as the fringe of the wood observed from the bank of the stream behind them. through this it was necessary to thread their way with extreme care, owing to the darkness and their unfamiliarity with the ground. upon reaching the edge of the wood the fugitives came to a stand-still. slipping from his saddle, the rancher brushed away the snow at his feet and pressed his ear against the ground. "i can hear nothing of them," he remarked, resuming the upright posture; "i am quite hopeful that that party will molest us no more." "it won't do to count on it," were the wise words of his wife. "i think you had better dismount and lead your pony," said the rancher; "we can mount again when through the wood; there will be less danger from the trees and limbs, and you and dot must be cramped from sitting so long." he helped them to the ground. it was a relief indeed to both, for they had kept their places on the back of the horse for a number of hours. dot yawned, stretched her limbs, and felt as though nothing would delight her so much as a frolic in the snow. the thoughtful mother had provided her not only with thick, strong shoes, but with heavy stockings, leggings, and warm clothing, with which she was well protected against the storm that was impending when they left their home. nothing could have better shown the childish innocence of her nature than her action in slyly removing her mittens, stooping down, packing a wad of snow with her hands and flinging it against her father's face, with a merry laugh. "gracious, dot! how you startled me!" he said, looking around at her. "did i hurt you?" "no; but don't speak or laugh so loud, for some of the bad indians may be near." "i forgot about that, but i'm going to hit jerry, for he is so lazy he needs it." and the indolent animal received a tiny whack from the snowy missile projected by the chubby hand of the child. he seemed to think, however, that it was no more than a snowflake, for he did not give even an extra wink of the eye. the delay was only momentary, when the rancher, with one hand grasping the bridle-rein and the other parting the limbs and bushes in front, began groping his way through the growth of timber, where it was so dark that everyone's eyes were practically useless. directly behind the horse walked dot, with her mother next, leading her pony, and the pack-horse bringing up the rear. ten minutes of this cautious progress and the leader checked himself with an impatient expression. "what is it?" called the wife, in a guarded voice. "another stream of water." "do you know anything about it?" "nothing; i came near tumbling into it, with dick on top of me; if he hadn't scented it first i would have done so." "what is to be done?" asked mrs. starr, as grievously disappointed as her husband. "i'm blessed if i know; it may be half a mile deep and ten miles across, with a perpendicular bluff a thousand feet high on the other side." leaving her pony, the wife took the hand of dot and joined him where he had halted on the edge of the unknown stream. "i've made up my mind that we shall do one thing right away," he remarked decisively. "what's that?" "eat supper while we have the chance; jerry is on hand with the provisions, and he may be somewhere else in the morning." "i'm glad of that," said the happy dot, "for i'm awfuller hungry than i ever was in all my life." "then supper it is." chapter xiv. turned back. it was a wise proceeding on the part of the rancher. the opportunity to make a substantial repast was theirs, and as he had remarked, there was no certainty when it would come again. the bag in which the provisions were placed was taken from the back of jerry, and the father helped his child and wife, who ate until they were fully satisfied. he dipped up water with dot's small tin cup from the stream in front, and with it their thirst was slaked. "molly," he suggested, "you can carry one or two of the sandwiches without inconvenience." "yes." "let us both do so; we may lose jerry, and if so, they will come in handy." "i have a couple, too," said dot. "it isn't best that you should burden yourself with them." "but i can't help it, papa." "how is that?" "they're inside of me," and the parents, even in their great dread, smiled at the odd conceit of the little one, who chuckled softly to think how she had "fooled" her papa. the delay was brief. the rancher knew that it was impossible to reach fort meade without crossing the stream before them, with the probability that still others awaited them at no great distance. it can be understood with what depth of dread he contemplated swimming the animals over, with the certainty of the saturation of all their garments, on this winter night, and the cold steadily increasing. in short, it meant perishing, unless a fire was kindled, in which case, a delay would be necessitated that would throw away all the advantage secured by flight. he was determined not to do it, unless actually driven to it as a last resource. he did not forget that he was now where there was an abundance of material with which a raft could be constructed that would obviate this exposure, but the building of such a rude craft, under the circumstances, was next to impossible. he had no implement except his pocket knife, and might grope about in the darkness for hours without getting together enough timber to float them to the other side. obviously one of two things must be done--try to cross where they were or follow the bank down until a fording place could be found, and repeated trials were likely to be necessary before success was obtainable. singular it is that so often out of the mouths of babes are heard the words of wisdom. the rancher had risen to his feet, and was in the act of mounting his pony to enter the water, when dot spoke: "why don't you let dick go ahead and you ride behind on sally?" "well, i declare!" exclaimed the father admiringly; "i begin to believe that if we reach the fort, it will be through your guidance, my precious little one," and, stooping over, he kissed her cheek. "strange that we did not think of that," remarked the mother. "dot is wise beyond her years." the plan was adopted at once. the mare ridden by the mother and child, and the horse of the father, were so intelligent that no risk was involved in the essay, which insured against the immersion held in such natural dread. the saddle and trappings were removed from dick, while the rancher mounted upon the side-saddle belonging to his wife. then the horse was ordered to enter the water, and, with some hesitation, he obeyed, his owner being but a step or two behind on the mare. the gloom was so deep that the hearing, and not the sight, must be depended upon. that, however, was reliable when nothing was likely to occur to divert it from its duty. the stream was no more than fairly entered when the rancher made two unwelcome discoveries: the current was much stronger than he had anticipated, and the water deepened rapidly. ten feet from shore it touched the body of the mare. inasmuch, however, as dick was still walking, there was hope that the depth might increase no more, or, at most, not to a dangerous extent. mr. starr could not see his own horse, but he plainly heard him as he advanced cautiously, feeling his way, and showing by his sniffing that the task was anything but pleasant to him. not knowing the width of the stream, it was impossible to tell in what portion of it they were: but he was already listening for the sounds which would show that his animal was climbing out on the other side, when the very thing he feared took place. a loud splash, followed by a peculiar rustling noise, showed that dick was swimming. at the same moment the mare sank so deeply that, had not the rider thrown his feet backward along her spine, with his body extended over the saddle and her neck, he would have been saturated to the knees. as it was, sally was within a hair of being carried off her feet by the force of the current. the rancher drew her head around, and, after a sharp struggle, she held her own, and began laboring back to the shore she had left; putting forth such vigor that it was plain the task was far more agreeable than the one upon which she first ventured. meanwhile, dick was swimming powerfully for the farther bank, and before his owner could think of calling to him, owing to his own flurry, he heard his hoofs stamp the hard earth. true, he had landed, but that brief space of deep water was as bad as if its width were ten times as great; it could not be passed without the saturation of the garments of all, and that, as has been said, was not to be endured. before the mare could return mr. starr called to his pony, and the animal promptly obeyed, emerging only a minute after the mare from the point where he had entered. "it's no use," he said to his waiting wife and little one; "there is one place where the horses must swim." "did you get wet, papa?" enquired dot, solicitous for his welfare. "no; but i came mighty near it." "then i suppose we must follow down the stream, and try it elsewhere," said the wife. "yes, with the discouraging fact that we are likely to pass a dozen fordable points, and strike a place that is deeper than anywhere else." the saddles were readjusted, and the move made without delay. since it was hard to thread their way through the wood, which lined the stream only a short distance from the water, they withdrew from it to the prairie, where travelling was easier. reaching the open plain, but keeping close to the margin of the timber, from which, fortunately, they had emerged at a point considerably removed from that of the entrance, the rancher repeated the precaution he had used before. "wait a moment," he said, in a low voice. once more the snow was brushed aside at his feet and the ear pressed against the ground. to his dismay he heard the tramp of horses' hoofs on the hard earth. "they are near at hand!" he said, in a startled whisper; "we must get away as quickly as we can." he hastily helped his wife and little one on the back of the mare, mounted his own animal, and, with the pack-horse at the rear, moved along the timber on a rapid walk, continually peering off in the gloom, as though it was possible for him to see the sioux, who certainly were at no great distance. one fear troubled him: suppose they should resort to the same artifice as he, and one of them appeal to the earth for evidence. he would be equally quick to discover the proximity of the fugitives, and with his sense of hearing trained to the finest point by many years' exercise, would locate the whites with unerring precision. chapter xv. missing. but there was no avoiding the risk. in silence the little party threaded their way along the margin of the prairie, listening for the sounds they dreaded to hear, and peering through the gloom for the forms they held in unspeakable fear. not until they had progressed several hundred yards can it be said that the rancher breathed freely. then he checked his pony, and those behind him did the same. the next instant he was out of the saddle, with his ear once more against the cold earth. not the slightest sound reached him through this better conductor. if the sioux horsemen were moving, they were too far off for the fact to be known. when first heard, they must have been close to the wood, on reaching which they undoubtedly dismounted and advanced on foot. in that event, they must detect the footprints of the ponies in advance, and with their skill in trailing were certain to learn of the course taken by the whites. then the pursuit would be resumed in earnest, and the perils would increase. one possible remedy suggested itself, though there was no certainty of its success. the snow was now falling so fast that it promised to obliterate the footprints to that extent that they could not be followed in the dark. as it was, even the lynx eyes of the sioux could avail them nothing. one of their number must be continually dismounting and using his hands to make sure they were not off the track. a half hour or more interval, and this resource would be taken from them by the descending snow. it was this belief which caused the rancher to ride dick among the trees, where he and the rest dismounted. then they groped forward with no little difficulty for some rods and halted. "be careful," he said, speaking particularly to dot, "and do not make any noise, for i believe those bad indians are not far off, and they are looking for us." dot showed her obedience by not venturing to whisper. it was not mr. starr's purpose to lose time by staying where they were. accordingly, after threading their way for some distance farther, he emerged once more on the plain, and, as they remounted, rode straight away from the timber. the object of this stratagem can be readily understood. the pursuing sioux, after discovering that the trail of the fugitives led along the margin of the wood, were likely to override it for some way, before learning the fact. then they would turn about and hunt until they found it again. the fact that at that point it entered the timber must cause another delay, where the difficulty of tracing the whites would be greatly increased. by the time they came back again to the open plain, the fall of snow was likely to render further pursuit almost, if not quite, impossible. this was the theory which guided the rancher's actions, though he was too wise to lose sight of the probability of serious miscalculations on his part. there was another danger, however, of which he failed to think, but which was not long in manifesting itself. by shifting his course so often, and leaving the stream altogether, he was sure to lose his bearings in the darkness. instead of following the most direct route to fort meade, he was liable to turn back on his old trail, with the result that when the sun rose in the morning he would be in the vicinity of his home, with the environing perils more threatening than ever. beyond all question this would have been the result had not nature come to his help. he was on the point of turning his pony's head around, to re-enter the timber he had left, when he discovered to his astonishment that he had already reached it. there were the trees directly in front, with the nose of dick almost touching a projecting limb. he was at a loss to understand it until his wife suggested that the winding course of the stream was responsible for the situation. even then he hardly believed until investigation convinced him that it was the same swift current flowing in front. "we unconsciously strayed from a direct course, and must have been going at right angles to the correct one." "there is no saying, george; only i advise you not to make too many experiments in the darkness. several hours have passed since night came, and we are not making much progress toward the fort." "you are quite right," was the nervous response, "but safety seemed to demand it. how are you standing it, dot?" the child made no answer. "she is asleep," whispered the mother. "i hope that it may last until morning. if you are tired of holding her in your arms i will take her." "when i grow weary of that," was the significant reply of the wife, "i will let you know." inasmuch as the continually obtruding stream must be crossed, and the precious hours were fast passing, the rancher gave every energy to surmounting the difficulty. as he led the way once more to the edge of the water, he asked himself whether the wisest course was not to construct a raft. the work promised to be so difficult, however, that he would have abandoned the thought had he not come upon a heavy log, lying half submerged at the very spot where he struck the water. "this will be of great help," he said to his wife. leaning his winchester against the nearest tree, he drew out his rubber safe and struck a match. the appearance of the log was encouraging, and after some lifting and tugging he succeeded in rolling it into the stream. that ended the matter. to his chagrin, the water-soaked wood sank like so much mud. "we won't experiment any longer," concluded the disappointed rancher; "but try the same thing as before." dick was stripped again and put in the lead, with his master following on the back of the mare. mrs. starr, being helped to the ground, stood with the sleeping dot in her arms, awaiting the return of her husband from his disagreeable experiment. "heaven grant that this maybe the right place," was his prayer, as he entered upon the second essay; "if we are turned back again i shall be in despair." his interest was intensified, for he was impressed with the belief that this was to be the decisive and final test. as if dick, too, felt the seriousness of the situation, he stepped resolutely forward, bracing himself against the strong current which was heard washing about his limbs. it seemed to the anxious rancher that he could discern the figure of his pony as he led the way through the gloom, only a short distance in advance of the mare. when certain that they were fully half-way across, his heart began to beat with hope at finding that the water did not touch the stirrup in which one foot rested. it was plain also that the leading horse was still firmly wading. with a relief which possibly may be imagined, the horseman heard dick step out on the bank a few minutes later. he had waded the whole distance, thus proving that the stream was easily fordable at that point. the delighted rancher could hardly repress a cheer. but for his fear that the sioux might be in the vicinity, he would have announced the joyous fact to his wife. "perhaps, however, her sharp ears have told her the truth," was his thought, as he wheeled the mare about and started to return, leaving dick to follow him, as he would be needed to help the party over. with never a thought of danger, the animal was forced hastily through the water, coming out a few paces below where she had entered it. "we are all right," he called; "we will be over in a jiffy." to his astonishment there was no response. he pronounced his wife's name, but still no reply came. then he moved up and down the bank, stirred by an awful fear, but heard and found her not. chapter xvi. a thief of the night. when the rancher entered the current with the two ponies, the interest of the wife, who remained behind with little dot, was centred wholly in his effort to ford the stream. she stood on the very margin of the water, where, though unable to see the form of the rider or either of the animals, she could hear the sound made by them in passing through the current. in this position, the pack-pony remained a few steps behind her and about half-way to the open plain. the child, who had been somewhat disturbed by the shifting about of herself, had fallen asleep again and rested motionless in her arms, with her form nestling in the protecting blanket. everything was silent except the slight noise caused by the animals in the water. in this position, with her nerves strung to the highest point, and her faculties absorbed in the single one of hearing, she caught a suspicious sound immediately behind her. it was as if jerry was moving from the spot where he had been left. fearful of his going astray, her lips parted to speak, when, fortunately, she held her peace. it might be that some person was the cause of his action. with the purpose of learning the truth, she stole through the timber toward the spot where he was standing a few minutes before. she was so close behind him, and moved so much faster, that she reached the open plain almost on his heels. despite the gloom, she could make out his figure; and her feelings may be imagined when she distinguished the form of a sioux warrior leading him. not only that, but the thief paused as soon as the open prairie was reached and lightly vaulted upon his back, beside the load already resting there. then he hammered his heels against his ribs and the lazy beast rose to a jogging trot, immediately disappearing in the snow and darkness. the wife, as may be supposed, was dumfounded and uncertain what to do, if indeed she could do anything. at the moment when it looked as if all danger was past, one of their enemies had unexpectedly stolen their pack-pony. where were the rest? why did they content themselves with this simple act, when they might have done a thousandfold worse? how soon would the rest be on the spot? was there no hope now of escape for the miserable fugitives? these and similar thoughts were passing through her mind, when she heard her husband calling to her in a cautious voice. not daring to reply, through fear of attracting the attention of their enemies, she threaded her way through the timber, and reached his side at the moment his heart was filled with despair at the belief that something frightful had taken place. the joy of the rancher, on clasping his beloved wife once more in his arms, caused him to forget everything else for the moment, but she quickly made known the startling incident that had occurred. "heavens!" he muttered, "they have traced us after all, but where are the rest?" "they must be near," she replied, laying her hand on his arm. "listen!" they did so, but heard nothing more. "we must cross at once," he whispered. no time was lost in following the prudent suggestion. the wife was helped upon the back of the mare, dot still remaining asleep, and the husband, mounted on dick, placed himself in front. "there is only one place, and that lasts but for a few steps, where you will have to raise your foot to protect it from the water," he said, as they were about to enter the stream. "i will remember," she nervously replied; "don't wait." once again the faithful pony entered the water, the mare so close behind that husband and wife could have touched each other, and the fording of the current began. the rancher did not forget that it was impossible in the darkness to follow precisely his own course. having emerged at a different point from where he entered, he was in reality following a different course, which might be the same as if it were a half mile farther up or down stream. this proved to be the case, though the disappointment was of an agreeable nature, for the ponies struck a shallower part than that which was first forded. at no portion did the water do more than barely touch the bodies of the animals, and then only for a few steps. once the mare slipped on a smooth stone, and came within a hair of unseating her rider, but the latter's skill enabled her to retain her seat, and a few minutes later the two came out on the other side, without a drop of moisture on their garments. "thank heaven!" was the fervent ejaculation of the husband as the fact was accomplished. "it is better than i expected." "but don't forget that they may have done the same thing, and perhaps are awaiting us near at hand." "you may be right, molly, and we cannot be too careful." the words were barely uttered when the splashing of water behind them left no doubt that the sioux were again on their trail. "quick!" whispered the husband; "dismount; you can't ride the mare among the trees; she will follow, and don't fail to keep close behind dick." it was important, above all things, to leave the spot before the red men landed. otherwise, they would hear the horses and locate them without difficulty. a disappointment awaited our friends. it will be remembered that the fringe of timber on the other side was quite narrow, and they naturally supposed it corresponded on the farther shore. but after threading their way for double the distance, they were surprised to find no evidence of the open plain beyond. the rancher dared not continue farther while there was reason to fear their pursuers were near. the brushing of the branches against the bodies of the animals and the noise of their hoofs could be detected in the silence, and was sure to betray the fugitives to any sioux within a hundred yards. the wife understood why the halt was made. her husband stole back and placed himself by her side. "you must be wearied with carrying dot so long," he said sympathizingly. "it is quite a trial," she replied, in the same guarded voice, "but there is no help for it, and i beg you to give the matter no thought." "let me take her a while." "no, that will not do; you must hold your gun ready for instant use, and you could not do so with her in your arms. it is not so hard when we are sitting on the mare, for it is easy to arrange it so that she supports most of her weight." "you are a good, brave woman, molly, and deserve to be saved." "sh!" she admonished; "i hear something." he knew she was right, for he caught the sound at the same moment. someone was stealing through the wood near them. it was a person, beyond question, for a horse would have made more noise, and the sounds of his hoofs would have been more distinct than anything else. that which, fell upon their ears was the occasional crackling of a twig, and the brushing aside of the obtruding limbs. no matter with what care an indian warrior threaded his way through the timber in this dense gloom, he could not avoid such slight evidences of his movements--so slight, indeed, that but for the oppressive stillness and the strained hearing of the husband and wife they would not have detected them. confident that the red man could not trace them in the gloom, even though so dangerously near, the dread now was that the ponies would betray them. those watchful animals often prove the most valuable allies of the fleeing fugitive, for they possess the power of discovering impending danger before it can become known to their masters. but when they make such discovery they are apt to announce it by a stamp of the hoof or with a sniffing of the nostrils, which, while serving the master well, has the disadvantage also of apprising the enemy that his approach has become known. stealing from his position beside his wife, the rancher stepped to the mare and passed his hand reassuringly over her mouth, doing the same with his own pony. this action was meant as a command for them to hold their peace, though whether it was understood to the extent that it would be obeyed, remains to be seen. chapter xvii. through the wood. even in that trying moment, starr could not help reflecting upon the peculiar turn matters had taken. he failed to understand the action of the solitary sioux on the other side, who had contented himself with the simple theft of the pack-pony, when he might have done tenfold more injury to the fugitives. and now, judging from the slight sounds that reached him, there was another single warrior prowling through the wood, instead of several. it might be, however, that his companions were near, awaiting the result of his reconnoissance, and would descend upon the whites the instant the way opened. but these speculations were cut short by the alarming discovery that some strange fatality was bringing the scout fearfully close to where the husband and wife were standing beside their animals, hardly daring to speak in the most guarded whispers. it must have been that the ponies understood what was expected from them, for they gave not the least sound. there was not a stamp of a hoof, and their breathing was as gentle as an infant's. so long as they remained mute it would seem that the peril must pass by. and so it ought to have done, for assuredly the indian could have gained no clew to the whereabouts of the fugitives from them or their animals. but all the same, george starr was not long in making the uncomfortable discovery that the red man was at his elbow, and the crisis was upon him. the rancher knew where the miscreant was, and he determined to chance it. he silently clubbed his winchester, brought it back over his left shoulder, and, concentrating his utmost strength in his arms, brought down the butt of this weapon with resistless force. it could not have been better aimed had the sun been shining. it crashed on the crown of the unsuspecting sioux, who sank silently to the earth, and it is enough to say that the "subsequent proceedings interested him no more." "sh!" whispered the husband; "there may be others near us; do you hear anything?" neither could catch any suspicious noise, and he concluded it was best to move on. if they should remain where they were when daylight came, all hope would be gone. the situation would be hardly improved if they stayed any longer in the gloom, after what had taken place. making known his purpose to his wife, he placed himself at the head of dick, and holding his bit, started forward. the mare followed the moment she heard what was going on, and the mother with her child walked between. but less than twenty steps were taken, when the leader paused abruptly, alarmed by an altogether unexpected discovery. the twinkle of a light appeared among the trees in front, so directly in their path that, had they continued straight forward, they would have stepped into the blaze. this was cause for astonishment, and suggested that the fugitives had struck a place where other sioux had gathered, probably a number who knew nothing of what had taken place a short time before. if this were true, there ought not to be much difficulty in working past them. still, critical as was the situation, he felt that the chance to learn something ought not to be thrown away. whispering to his wife to remain where she was, he left her and stole forward until he could gain sight of the blaze and those surrounding it. there was the fire made by a number of sticks heaped against the trunk of a tree, and burning vigorously, but to his surprise, not an indian was in sight. how many had been gathered there, how long since they had left, whether they would return, and if so, how soon? all these were questions that must be left to some other time before even attempting to guess the answers. he waited some minutes, thinking possibly the missing warriors would return, but not one showed up, and he felt it would not do to tarry longer. a goodly portion of the night had already passed, and fort meade was still a long distance away, with a dangerous stretch of country to pass. it seemed to the husband and wife that they hardly breathed, as they moved through the wood. he held his pony by the rein with his left hand, while he used the right, grasping the winchester, to open the way in front. they could do nothing more, listening meanwhile for the sounds of danger which they expected to hear every moment. but lo! while they were advancing in this guarded manner, they suddenly came out of the wood and into the open country again. the husband uttered another exclamation of thankfulness, and checked the animals. "now it looks as if we had a chance to accomplish something," he said, "and i am sure you are in need of rest." "i am somewhat weary, but i can stand a great deal more, george; give no thought to me, but think only of the peril from which we must escape this night or never." he gently took the little dot, swathed as she was in the heavy blanket, and held her while his wife remounted the mare, without help. we have said she was an excellent horsewoman, as she had proved before this eventful night. "now," said he, when she was firmly seated and extended her arms to take the child, "i am going to use my authority as a husband over you." "have i not always been an obedient wife?" she asked, with mock humility. "no man was ever blessed with a better helpmate," was the reply. "i await your commands, my lord." instead of passing the child to her, he reached up his rifle. "what is the meaning of that?" she asked wonderingly. "lay it across the saddle in front, where its weight will not discommode you. i shall carry dot." "but think, george, of the risk it involves. i assure you that it will be no task for me to take care of her now that i am in the saddle again." "all discussion is ended," he replied, with a severity which she well knew was assumed, though she did not dispute him. she accepted the weapon and placed it in position as he directed. then supporting the precious child with one arm, he mounted his pony and placed himself by her side. "we will ride abreast; if any emergency calls for the use of my gun, i can pass dot to you in an instant; you must remember too, that i have a revolver, which may serve me better in any sudden peril." "i obey," she replied, "but you will not deny me the right to think you are committing a mistake; since, however, it is actuated by love, i appreciate it." "i assure you," he said with deep feeling, "that aside from the consideration due you, i am acting for the best. i wish you, as long as possible, to remain at my side. we have made so many turnings and changes in our course that i have lost all idea of the points of the compass; i do not know whether we are going toward fort meade or straying off to the right or left, with the probability that in the morning we may be far out of the way. help me to keep our bearings." and husband and wife rode out on the prairie in the darkness and falling snow. chapter xviii. night and morning. by this time the snow lay to the depth of several inches on the earth. it was still falling, and the cold was increasing. the flakes were slighter, and there were fewer of them. his knowledge of the weather told the rancher that the fall would cease after a while, with a still further lowering of the temperature. thanks, however, to the thoughtfulness of his wife more than himself, they were so plentifully provided with blankets and extra garments that they were not likely to suffer any inconvenience from that cause. fortunately for them and greatly to their relief, the stretch of prairie which they had struck continued comparatively level. occasionally they ascended a slight elevation or rode down a declivity, but in no case for more than two hours was either so steep that the ponies changed their gait from the easy swinging canter to a walk. once, after riding down a slight decline, they struck another stream, but it was little more than a brook, so strait that a dozen steps brought them out on the other side with little more than the wetting of their animals' hoofs. they rode side by side, for the mare was as fleet and enduring as the horse. now and then they glanced back, but saw nothing to cause alarm, and hope became stronger than before. "we are doing remarkably well," said the husband, breaking the silence for the first time in a half hour. "yes," was the thoughtful reply; "we must have travelled a good many miles since the last start, and there is only one danger that troubles me." "what is that?" "the probability--nay, the almost certainty--that we are not journeying toward the fort." "i have thought much of that," replied the husband, giving voice to a misgiving that had disturbed him more than he was willing to admit; "it is as you say, that the chances are against our proceeding in a direct line, but it is equally true that the general course is right." "how can you know that?" "because we have crossed two streams that were in our path, and they remain behind us." "but," reminded the thoughtful wife, "you forget that those same streams are very winding in their course. if they followed a direct line, we could ask no more proof that we are on the right track." "true, but it cannot be that they take such a course that we are travelling toward the ranch again." "hardly as bad as that, but if we are riding at right angles in either direction, we shall be in a sad plight when the morning comes. the sun will take from us all chance of dodging the sioux so narrowly as we have done more than once since leaving home." "we must not forget the peril of which you speak; at such times i trust much to the instinct of the animals." "and would not that, in the present case, lead them to go toward rather than from home?" "i'm blessed if i thought of that!" the rancher was filled with dismay for the moment, and brought dick down to a walk. "no," he added the next moment, striking him into a gallop again, "if they were left to themselves they would try to make their way to the ranch, but they have been under too much guidance, and have been forced to do too many disagreeable things, for them to attempt that. i am sure we are nearing fort meade." "i trust so," was the response of the wife; which remark did anything but add to the hopefulness of her husband. the animals now began to show signs of fatigue. the snow balled under their hoofs, causing a peculiar jolting to the riders, when it became so big that the weight broke it or made their feet slip off, when new gatherings commenced immediately to form. after being forced to a canter the horses would drop of their own accord to a walk, and soon they were left to continue at their own gait. "how far, molly, do you think we have come?" asked the rancher. "it must be fifteen miles, and possibly more; if it were in a direct line, adding what we made before crossing the last stream, it would be safe to wait until morning." again the wife gave expression to the thought that was in her husband's mind. he had been asking himself for the last half hour whether it would not be wise to come to a halt for daylight. the rest thus secured to the animals would enable them to do much better, when the right course could be determined with absolute certainty, and a few hours' brisk riding ought to take them beyond all fear of their harassing enemies. there remained the haunting fear of their being on the wrong course. if daylight found them little nearer the fort than when at the ranch, their situation would be most critical. but all speculation on that important matter must remain such until the truth could be learned. one reason why the rancher did not propose a halt before it was hinted at by his wife, was that no suitable place presented itself. it would not do to camp in the open plain, where there was no shelter for them or their animals; they must keep on until the ground changed. that change came sooner than they anticipated. the ponies were plodding forward with their loads, when, before either of the riders suspected it, they were on the edge of another growth of timber, which promised the very thing they sought. "here we are!" said mr. starr, "and i think we can say that the journey will be suspended until daylight." "if there is another stream, george, i shall feel safer if we place ourselves on the other side before we halt for the rest of the night." "i don't view another fording with much pleasure, but we can soon find out how it is." the character of this timber differed from that which they had already passed, in that it abounded with so many bowlders and rocks that, after penetrating it a short way, it became too dangerous for the ponies to persevere. they were liable at any moment to break a limb. "remain here a few minutes while i investigate," said the rancher, passing the sleeping dot to his wife. he penetrated more than a hundred yards, without coming upon any water. he did not go farther, for he was satisfied there was none near them. the ground not only grew more rocky and precipitous as he advanced, but steadily rose, so as to show that he was at the base of a ridge over which it was a difficult matter to make their way. it would have been folly to try it in the darkness, and on his return he sought some spot favorable for going into camp. he was more successful than he expected. a mass of rocks was found, whose tops projected sufficiently to afford a fair shelter. the snow, slanting from the other direction, left a comparatively large surface bare. here the ponies were drawn to one side and their trappings removed. there were not enough spare blankets to cover them as the fugitives wished to do, but they were too tough to suffer much. then the blankets were distributed, and so placed that when the husband and wife huddled together against the base of the rocks, they, as well as dot, were quite comfortable. the rancher might have gathered wood and started a fire, but it was not needed, and they feared the consequences of such a proceeding. they were so worn out with the trials and toil of the night, that they soon sank into a deep slumber which lasted till morning. then, upon awaking, the first act of the rancher was to ascertain his bearings, so far as it was possible to do so. the result was the disheartening conviction that they were no nearer fort meade than when they forded the last stream early on the preceding night. chapter xix. a startling surprise. we must not forget that young warren starr and tim brophy have an important part to play in the incidents we have set out to relate. we left them in the wooded rocky section, where they had spent the night together in the rude shelter erected a year before when on their hunting excursions. they were awakened by the frenzied cry of the young irishman's horse, and appeared on the scene just in time to save the pony from a grizzly bear, who made things exceedingly lively for the young gentlemen themselves. but relieved of their peril, they sat down like sensible persons to make their morning meal from the lunch brought thither by tim. they ate heartily, never pausing until the last particle of food was gone. then they rose like giants refreshed with new wine. "now," said warren, "we will mount the ponies, and instead of making for the fort will try to find the folks." "i'm wid ye there, as i remarked previously," was the response of the brave young rancher, who was ever ready to risk his life for those whom he loved. "it will be an almost hopeless hunt, for father could give me only a general idea of the course he meant to take, and we are likely to go miles astray." "we shall have to depind on providence to hilp us, though it may be the folks are in no naad of our assistance." "i pray that such may be the case," was the fervent response of warren, accompanied by a sigh of misgiving. "i think we shall be able to take care of ourselves, but father is in a bad fix with mother and dot on his hands. i hope plummer has joined them." "he niver will do the same," remarked tim gravely. "why do you say that?" "he has been killed by the spalpeens, for if he hadn't, he would have showed himsilf before we lift the ranch." "it looks that way, but you cannot be certain." "i wish i couldn't, but he must have larned of thim being so near the house as soon as mesilf, or very nearly so, and he would have been back before me. that he didn't come is proof to my mind that he niver will--ye may depind on the same." this brief conversation took place while the youths were saddling and mounting their horses. they made certain that everything was secure, and then, carefully guiding their animals among bowlders to the open prairie, paused a moment to decide upon the best course to take. to the northwest stretched the white plain in gentle undulations, and in the clear sunlight, miles away in the horizon, rose the dark line of a wooded ridge, similar to the others described, and which are so common in that section of the country. they agreed that the best course was to head toward it, for it seemed to them that the rancher had probably crossed the same at some point, or if he had not already done so, would ride in that direction. possibly, too, the father, despite the wishes he had expressed, would suspect such a movement on the part of his son. if so, the probability of their meeting was increased. the air was clear, sharp, and bracing, with the sun shining from an unclouded sky. it was a time to stir the blood, and had not the young ranchers been oppressed by anxiety for their friends, they would have bounded across the plain in the highest possible spirits. the ponies, having no such fear, struck into a swinging gallop of their own accord, which continued without interruption until more than half the intervening distance was passed. all this time the youths were carefully scanning the wooded ridge, as it rose more distinctly to view; for they could not forget that they were more likely to meet hostiles than friends in that section, and approaching it across an open plain, must continue conspicuous objects to whatever sioux were there. "tim," said warren, as they rode easily beside each other, "unless i am much mistaken, a fire is burning on the ridge." "where?" "almost directly ahead, but a little to the left; tell me whether you can make it out." the irishman shaded his eyes with one hand, for the glare of the sun on the snow was almost blinding, and after a moment's scrutiny, said: "ye are right; there is a fire up there; not much smoke does the same give out, but it is climbing up the clear sky as straight as a mon's finger." "i take it that it means indians; it seems to me they are all around us." "i agraas wid ye, but s'pose it is a fire that yer fayther has started himsilf." warren shook his head. "he would not do so imprudent a thing as that." "but he moight have in his eye that we'd be looking for something of the same." still his friend was unconvinced. "he could not be certain that it would be noted by us, while he must have known that it was sure to attract the attention of the sioux. no; i cannot be mistaken." "do ye want to pass it by widout finding out its maaning?" "if it is father who has kindled the blaze, and he is looking for us, he will find some way of telling us more plainly----" "do ye obsarve?" asked tim, in some excitement. beyond question the approach of the two young horsemen had produced an effect. the faint column of smoke which, until that moment, had climbed perpendicularly up the sky, now showed a wavy appearance, vibrating from side to side in graceful undulations, as though it were a ribbon swayed by human hands. but warren, instead of accepting this as did his companion, regarded it as more indicative of danger. the sioux that were responsible for the ascending vapor were aware of the approach of the couple, and were signalling the fact to others whose whereabouts was unknown to the whites. "do ye moind," said tim, "that two months since, whin we were hunting along the big cheyenne and got separated from him and plummer, he let us know where they were in jist that way?" it was a fact. precisely the same signal had been used by the parent to apprise his son and companion where he and plummer were, though in that instance it was the employé who adopted the method. he was inclined for a few seconds to agree with his companion; but there was something in the prominence of the artifice, and the certainty that it would be noted by unfriendly eyes, that caused him to dismiss the belief. enough doubt, however, had been injected into his mind to bring the desire for further investigation. "we will ride straight toward it, as though we intended to go to the camp or signal fire as it may be, but will turn aside before reaching the ridge, so as to avoid the trap that may be set for us. i had an experience yesterday afternoon something like that before you joined me." strange it was that the couple, who, despite their youth, had learned so much of border life, forgot to keep watch of the rear, while giving so much attention to the front. singular as it may seem, they had not looked behind them for the preceding half hour. the sight of the signal fire ahead so absorbed their interest that they neglected this obvious precaution; nor did it once occur to them that if the smoke was sent into the sky by hostiles, who meant it for the guidance of confederates, those same confederates were likely to be to the rear of them. such was the fact, and the knowledge came to the friends in the most startling manner conceivable, being in the shape of several rifle bullets which whistled about their ears. then, when they glanced affrightedly around, they saw fully a dozen sioux bucks, all well mounted, bearing down upon them at full speed. they had issued from the rocky section behind them, and ridden to this perilous position without the youths once dreaming of the fact until, as may be said, the hostiles were literally upon them. chapter xx. a run for life. but one thing could be done: that was to run, and warren starr and tim brophy did it in the highest style of the art. they put their ponies to their utmost pace without an instant's delay. the animals, as if conscious of their peril, bounded across the snowy plain on a dead run, with their riders stretching forward over their necks to escape the bullets expected every moment. it must have been that the sioux were sure the fugitives would look around the next moment, else they would have stolen nearer before announcing their presence in such a startling fashion. the only hope for the young ranchers lay in the speed of their horses, since there was no other possible chance against the bucks who were as fierce after their lives as so many ravening wolves. the boys shouted to their animals, who flew across the plain as though the snow did not discommode them in the least. they did not separate, for the instinctive resolve thrilled them that they would fall or escape together. each was provided with a repeating winchester, and enough has been told to prove they knew how to use the weapons effectively, but the opportunity was hardly the present, since to turn and fire while their ponies were on the run, offered little chance of success, and was liable to interfere with their speed, so important above everything else. the flight was so sudden that, without thought, they headed toward the wooded ridge, where they had seen the suspicious signal fire, but they had not gone far before discovering that that would never do. the flight must end at the ridge, where they would find themselves at fearful disadvantage. "we must have the open plain or we are lost!" called warren. "ay, ay; i'm wid ye," replied tim, who pulled sharply on the right rein of his animal. at the same moment his friend turned the head of his horse to the left, and, before the comrades were aware, they were diverging with several rods between them. warren was the first to perceive the mistake, and believing he had adopted the right line of flight, shouted for his friend to do the same. tim had already noticed the turn and now thundered across the prairie toward him. but the devious course, as will be readily seen, threw him slightly to the rear, seeing which, warren drew in his animal to allow him to come up. "none of that!" called the irishman; "ye've no advantage to throw away! ye can't hilp me by that nonsense." but warren gave him no heed. the next minute tim was almost at his side. "i belave we're riding faster than the spalpeens," he added, glancing for the twentieth time to the rear, where the sioux were forcing their horses to the utmost. they did not fire for some time after the opening volley, giving their whole attention to this run for life. that the capacities of the pursuing ponies varied was quickly apparent. several began dropping to the rear, but more than half maintained their places near each other. it was hard to tell whether they were holding their own or gradually drifting back from the fugitives. the one hopeful fact was that as yet they were not gaining. whether they would do so or lose ground must quickly appear. tim brophy now performed a deed as reckless as it was daring. he watched the rear more than did warren, and was in the act of drawing up beside the latter, when he discovered that one of the sioux was leading all the rest. he was fully a rod in advance, and what was more alarming than everything else, he was gaining, beyond question, on the fugitives. his horse had developed a burst of speed that no one anticipated. rising to the sitting posture in the saddle, tim brought his gun to his shoulder. "don't do that!" admonished warren. "you have no chance to hit him, and will cause billy to lose ground." the irishman made no reply; he was too much occupied with the act he had in mind. furthermore, he noted that the buck whom he held in such fear was making ready to fire. but tim was ahead of him, and, by one of those strange accidents which sometimes happen, he hit him so fair and hard that, with the invariable cry of his race when mortally hurt, he reeled sideways and fell to the ground, his horse, with a snort of alarm, circling off over the prairie far from his companions. [illustration: tim's fortunate shot.] warren glanced around at the moment the gun was discharged and could hardly believe his own eyes. he knew the success was accidental, and hoped it would not encourage tim to repeat the attempt. it was expected that the shot would serve as a check to the rest, and ordinarily it would have done so, but it produced not the slightest effect in that direction. back of the fallen warrior, whose body rolled over and over in the snow, as it struck with a rebound, were more than half a dozen, with the others streaming after them. they gave no heed to their fallen leader, neither uttering any outcry nor firing in return, but pressing their ponies to the highest possible point. they were resolved upon capturing those fugitives and subjecting them to a punishment beside which shooting would be a mercy. it would not do to forget the country in front. while their chief interest lay to the rear, they were liable to run into some peril that would undo all the good gained by outrunning their pursuers. warren saw that while they had swerved to the left, yet the course of the ridge would carry them to its base, unless they diverged still more from the direct path. and yet this divergence must be made as gradual as circumstances would permit, since otherwise great advantage would be given their enemies by the chance to "cut across lots," or in other words to follow a straight line, while offsetting the curved course of the fugitives. directing the attention of tim to the situation, he begged him to give no further thought to firing upon their foes. "i'll let the spalpeens alone if they'll do the same wid me," was his reply, spoken in a low voice, for the two were separated by only a few feet. "you can't have as good luck a second time." "but," persisted tim, "if i hadn't dropped that felly, he would have tumbled you or mesilf out of the saddle, as he was about to do whin i jumped on him wid both feet." but warren begged him to desist, confident as he was that any further attempt would result in ill to them. tim held his peace, but leaving his friend to watch where they went he gave his chief attention to the sioux, whose leaders, if they were not gaining ground, seemed to be holding their own. suddenly, to warren's disgust, his companion again brought his gun to his shoulder. before he could aim and fire, however, one of the bucks discharged his weapon and the bullet nipped the leg of young starr, who continued leaning forward, so as to offer as little of his body as possible for a target. tim fired, but more than likely the ball went wide of the mark. his companion hoped that the act of their pursuers in shooting was caused by their fear of losing the fugitives through the speed of their ponies. but a short distance was necessary before the boys were riding in a line parallel with the ridge that had loomed up in their path. this gave them an open country for an unknown distance, over which to continue their flight, but it was hardly to be supposed that it would continue long. the section was too broken to warrant such a hope. it may have been the perception of the fugitives' object that brought the shot from the sioux. at any rate, if it should become manifest that the young ranchers were drawing away, the rifles of the pursuers were certain to be brought into effective use, and the distance between the parties was fearfully brief. chapter xxi. away we go! one recourse was before the pursuing sioux from the start: that was to shoot the horses of the fugitives. the wonder was that they had not aimed to do so from the first. with the couple dismounted, they would be at their mercy. it was the fear of this that caused warren to ask his friend to draw up as near to him as he could. it was not likely that both ponies would fall at once, and the survivor might be able to carry the couple to safety. "i tell ye we are gaining," said the irishman, with far more hope in his manner than warren thought was warranted. "we must gain a good deal before getting out of the woods," was the reply of the other, who devoted every energy to forcing his animal to his best pace. "look out! they're going to shoot again," said tim. throwing himself forward, warren hugged his pony closer than ever, his companion doing the same, instead of trying to use his gun. the volley came while the words were in course of utterance, but neither of the youths was touched. the sioux must have found it equally hard to fire with their animals on a full run. "why don't the spalpeens save their powder?" was the disgusted question of tim, but his feelings changed a minute later, when his own pony showed by his actions that he had been hit hard. he uttered a low, moaning cry, and staggered as if about to fall. warren was the first to notice it. "tim, billy is going to drop; ride closer and mount jack behind me." "not a bit of it! i'll see you hanged first," was the characteristic reply of the brave fellow, who sturdily refused to heed the urgent appeal of his friend. "why not?" "jack can't carry us both." "he can until we reach the ridge." "but we're not going toward it," insisted tim, too observant to be deceived. "turn billy's head that way," said warren, growing desperate in the imminence of the peril, and swerving his pony to the right; "jack can carry us both as well as one." still the irishman hesitated. it might be as his companion said, but he was unwilling to imperil warren, and destroy the chances of both, when everything looked so favorable for one. meanwhile, the stricken billy was fast giving out. he struggled gamely, but it was evident that he must quickly succumb. at the most, he could go but a short distance farther. the sioux fired again, but nothing was accomplished. if jack was hit, he did not show it during the few seconds that his rider held his breath. still tim held back in the face of the pleadings of his friend. two discoveries, however, led him to yield. they were now heading straight for the ridge, which was barely half a mile distant. it must soon be attained, unless something happened to jack. the foremost sioux had fallen so perceptibly behind that there was reason to believe the horse could carry both riders to safety, or rather to the refuge which they hoped to find at the base of the ridge. "i'll do the same, being it's yerself that asks it----" "quick! billy is falling!" called warren, far more excited than his companion. the crisis had come. the poor animal could go no farther, and was swaying from side to side like a drunken person, certain to fall with the next minute. tim released his foot from the stirrup on his right, swung his leg over the saddle, as only a skilful horseman can do, and, holding his gun with one hand, grasped the outstretched one of warren and made a slight leap, which landed him behind him. it was a delicate and difficult task, and despite the skill with which it was executed, both came within a hair of tumbling headlong to the ground. quickly as it was done, it was not a moment too soon. the mortally wounded billy suddenly went forward, his nose ploughing up the snow and earth, and after a few struggles all was over. the action had not only increased the danger of both of the fugitives, but it rendered the situation of the irishman doubly perilous. although both leaned forward, they could not do so as effectually as when each was on his own horse, and tim of necessity was the more exposed of the two. leaving warren to guide and urge jack, he gave his attention to the sioux, who did not relax their efforts, but whose relative situations, owing to the varying speed of their horses, underwent a curious change of position. two were riding abreast, and so far as tim could see there was not the least difference in the speed of their ponies. behind them at a distance of several rods came two others, holding precisely the same relative positions, while the rest were strung along over the prairie, until it looked as if the hindmost was a third of a mile distant. nothing was to be feared from them, but what of those that were so much nearer? that was the vital question that must soon be answered. while the position of the irishman was anything but pleasant, and with the horse on a jump he was required to take the utmost care to maintain his seat, he decided to try his gun once more. this proved harder than he supposed. he could make no use of the saddle in which young starr sat, and when he sought to turn he would have fallen, had he not kept one arm about the waist of his friend. and yet, in the face of all this, he managed to get his winchester in position with the muzzle toward the leading sioux. anything like aiming the weapon was out of the question, and it would have been folly to expect that a second chance shot would favor him. nevertheless, the demonstration accomplished something unexpected. he had done execution with one shot, and when the bucks saw the muzzle pointing backward, they were scared. the leaders naturally supposed they were the ones intended to serve as targets, and they ducked their heads with such suddenness that the irishman grinned. not only that, but one of them caused his pony--probably through some inadvertent act on the part of the rider--to swerve from his course, thereby interfering with those immediately in the rear. even the companion at his side was thrown somewhat out of "plumb," and lost a few paces, much to the delight of tim, who gleefully told warren of what had taken place. the advantage to the fugitives will be understood when it is remembered that they were rapidly drawing near the ridge, now at no great distance in front. true, there was no certainty that it would prove a refuge to them, if attained; but it would be more of a shelter than the open prairie, where, if driven to bay, there was not the slightest protection against the bullets of the sioux, unless the body of jack should be used as a breastwork. the confusion of the bucks was only temporary. they needed no one to tell them what the aim of the youths was when they changed the line of their flight, nor could they fail to see that the ridge would be attained quite soon, unless they were checked. tim brophy suspected that such thoughts were passing through their minds, and despite the hopelessness of the effort, he discharged his rifle toward them; and when it is stated that it was discharged "toward them," no more can be said. there is no reason to believe that he came within twenty feet of hitting any one of the sioux. it may be doubted, therefore, whether this essay on his part was beneficial to himself and companion, inasmuch as it must have lowered their opinion of his marksmanship and convinced the red men that they were altogether mistaken in giving heed to any more shots fired by him from the back of the pony, which was not only going at full speed, but was carrying a double burden. chapter xxii. on foot. the fugitives were now so close to the ridge that warren starr, from his position on his pony, turned his attention to their immediate front. he saw that the race must end, so far as his steed was concerned, within the next second. the trees stood close together, the ascent was steep, and the bowlders and rocks, plainly discernible, since all leafage was gone, showed that the horse must halt of necessity at the moment of striking the base of the elevation. the sioux had ceased firing. they were so certain of capturing the youths that they saved their ammunition. the struggle could not last much longer. "be ready to jump off!" said warren to his companion; "i am going to stop!" even as he spoke, he threw jack on his haunches with a suddenness that would have pitched the couple over his head, had they not braced themselves. both took a flying leap from his back and dashed for the cover now directly before them. the purpose was still to keep together, but circumstances beyond their control prevented. they had no time to form any plan. young starr darted to the right, aiming for some rocks which he fancied might afford partial shelter. tim had his eye on a somewhat similar refuge to the left, and made for that. he would have joined his friend had he known his intention, but the seconds were too precious to allow it, after a few steps were taken. so he kept on without once glancing behind him. still there was no firing. the indians must have felt more certain than ever of their prey, thus to hold their shots. they emitted several whoops of exultation, and the foremost bounded from their ponies and sped after the fugitives like so many bloodhounds. but the separation of the latter compelled a division of the former, who, it will be remembered, were scattered at varying distances, only a couple being at the heels of the young ranchers. thus it came about that each was pursued by a single warrior, and through a whim which cannot be fully understood, the sioux next to the leaders turned to the left on the trail of the young irishman, who had thus the honor, if it may be so considered, of attracting the greater attention. for a few moments warren devoted his energies to running. he bounded like a hare over the first bowlder that interposed, swerved slightly to the right, to pass an obstructing rock, and went up the slope with the same headlong speed with which he had dashed from the level ground to the bottom of the slope. it was not until he had sped fully a hundred yards in this furious fashion that he ventured to throw a glance over his shoulder. then he learned that there was but a single sioux in sight. the fugitive had held his own so well against this miscreant, that the latter must have felt a quick fear of his escaping him altogether. young starr was an unusually swift sprinter, and it may be doubted whether the fleet-footed indian could have run him down in a fair contest. the fear of losing the young man caused the sioux to check himself abruptly, bring his gun to a level, and let fly. an extraordinary accident, or rather providence, saved the fugitive. at the very instant of his enemy firing, warren's foot slipped in the snow, and he stumbled on his hands and knees. certain that his fall was due to the bullet just sent after him, the sioux, with a whoop of triumph, bounded forward over the bowlders and around the rocks to finish him. warren saw, with lightning-like quickness, that his fall might be his salvation. it had deceived his foe into the belief that he was either killed or mortally hurt, and he was, therefore, unprepared for that which followed. the youth did not attempt to rise. he had slipped down in such a position that he was hidden from the sight of his pursuer. he quickly shifted around so as to face him, and, rising on one knee, held his winchester pointed and ready for use. he had not long to wait. the sioux was so close that the next minute his head and shoulders appeared above the rock, as he took his tremendous strides toward the lad, whom he expected to see stretched helpless on the snowy earth. the sight of him kneeling on one knee, with his rifle aimed, his eye ranging along the barrel, and his finger on the trigger, was the first startling apprisal of the real state of affairs. the warrior instantly perceived his fearful mistake, and made a desperate attempt to dodge to one side, but though the loon may elude the bullet of the hunter's rifle, no man has ever yet been equal to the task. no screeching indian was ever hit more fairly, surprised more suddenly, or extinguished more utterly. [illustration: the death of the indian.] and so it came about that in the twinkling of an eye warren starr was left without a pursuer. not a solitary sioux was in sight. but he was too wise to think he was safe. he was simply relieved for the time being of his harassing foes. they must have heard the discharge of his rifle, and some of them would soon investigate when their comrade failed to return to them. this would be after a few minutes. naturally they would suppose that the fugitive had been brought down, and not until a brief period had elapsed would they suspect the truth. it was this interval which must be utilized to the utmost, if the youth hoped to escape. while the snow would reveal his trail so plainly that it could be followed without the least difficulty, yet his own fleetness ought to enable him to keep so far in advance of the sioux that they could not gain another shot at him. true, he was deprived of his matchless pony, but the red men were also on foot, and therefore they stood on equal terms, with the opening in favor of the fugitive. warren would have been full of hope and resolution, but for tim brophy. his concern for his devoted friend forbade him turning the situation solely to his own account. he made a hasty examination of his rifle, and found nothing the matter with it. it was ready for use whenever needed. not a solitary warrior was in sight, and the profound stillness which reigned caused the incidents of the last few minutes to seem like some wild dream. with that peculiar doubt that sometimes comes over one in such crises, warren gently pinched one hand with the other. the result convinced him that everything was real--imagination had nothing to do with it. the reports of his own winchester and the sioux's rifle were all that had broken the stillness since the headlong leap of the young ranchers from the back of the pony. there could have been no other report without its being heard by warren, who was sorely perplexed over the fact. could it be that equally good fortune had befallen tim brophy? had he been able to throw his pursuers off the track for the time? it seemed impossible that two such providences should come simultaneously to the fugitives. the irishman was by no means as fleet of foot as warren, and with the majority of the pursuers dashing after him, only the worst result was to be feared. "some of them will soon be here," was the conclusion of the youth, as he stood sorely perplexed as to what he should do; "if i remain, i shall have half a dozen of them around me, and then it will be all up; but what about tim?" in his chivalrous devotion to his comrade, he now began withdrawing from his dangerous position, but trended to the right as he faced his enemies, with the object of getting near tim, and with the hope that he might be of help to him in his desperate strait. he shuddered as he glanced down at the ground and observed the prints he made in the snow. there could be no delay in tracing him, no matter what direction he might take. it must be the same with his friend, who, despite any advantage gained at the beginning of his last flight, could be readily run down, if the sioux preferred that to "winging" him while in full flight. chapter xxiii. down! meanwhile tim brophy found himself in the hottest quarters of his life. inspired by the same desperate thought of his friend, he strove, with all the energy he possessed, to widen the space between himself and his pursuers. less fleet of foot than they, it took but a few seconds to show him the hopelessness of the task. none of the trees was large enough to give protection to his body, but seeing no rocks that could serve him, he dodged behind the first trunk that presented itself. this was barely six inches in diameter, and was no better than nothing at all. pausing but a moment, he leaped away again, with that wild, aimless impulse which comes over one when panic-stricken. the halt, brief though it was, proved fatal. his pursuer was on his heels, and the brave youth turned at bay. as if fate was against him, when he attempted to bring his rifle to a level, he made a slip and it dropped from his grasp. he had no time to pick it up. "s'render! s'render!" called his foe in good english, waving his right hand aloft with his gun grasped in it. "i'll surrender, ye spalpeen!" resorting like a flash to nature's weapons, the irishman delivered a blow straight from the shoulder, which sent the sioux spinning backward with his feet pointing toward the sky. had he been the only foe to contend with, tim might have saved himself, for the savage was utterly "knocked out," and the opportunity to finish him could not have been better. tim had his revolver, but in his excitement he forgot the important fact. he was about to leap upon his prostrate enemy, with the intention of snatching his gun from him and using it, when the other two sioux burst to view. without waiting for them to assail him, the youth dashed forward like a panther at bay. before the foremost could elude the assault, he struck him as fairly as he had hit the other, and he sprawled on his back, with the breath driven from his body. but the impetus of his blow carried tim forward, and, half tripping in his headlong rush, he fell on his hands and knees. he strove frantically to save himself, but, before he could struggle to his feet, the other sioux dealt him a stroke with the butt of his gun which laid the fellow helpless on his face. the skull of the irishman, however, was tough, and he quickly recovered, but not before several other warriors appeared on the scene. for one moment the young rancher meditated a rush upon them, and had actually doubled his fists for that purpose, but even in his fury he perceived the folly of such a course. if he assailed the sioux, they would quickly finish him then and there, while the fact of their having spared his life thus far proved that they did not intend to put him to instant death. it was with singular emotions that he recognized among the last arrivals the carlisle student starcus, who had saved his life the preceding morning by his timely shot when the grizzly bear was upon him. the presence of the "civilized" youth among the hostiles told its own story. "ye've got me foul," said tim, looking straight at starcus as he spoke; "and now ye may do wid me what ye loikes." starcus, knowing the words and look were meant for him, made no answer, but kept in the background. he was grim and silent. who shall say what thoughts were stirring his heart at that trying moment! he had sat with this youth at the table of george starr and his family. he had partaken of their hospitality, and had claimed to possess the civilization which he was anxious his own race should adopt, but here he was, taking part in the pursuit and attack of two youths who not only had never done him harm, but had always acted the part of friends toward him. there was one curious fact (and yet, perhaps it was not so curious after all) which was evident to the captured youth. the sioux admired the brave fight he had made for himself. trained for ages to regard physical prowess as above all virtues, the american race cannot fail to revere it, even when they are the sufferers therefrom. the warrior who had first felt the weight of tim's fist now began clambering to his feet. he was dazed and bewildered, for the blow was a terrific one. landing squarely in his face, it had brought considerable crimson, which, mingling with the daubs of paint already there, gave him a frightful appearance. he assumed the upright posture, and standing uncertainly for a few seconds, fixed his eyes on the prisoner. then grasping the situation, and recognizing him as the individual that had treated him so harshly, he suddenly emitted a shout, whipped out his hunting-knife, and rushed at him like a fury. tim instantly threw himself into a pugilistic attitude, and no doubt would have given a good account of himself had he been permitted, for he was skilled in the art of self-defence, and such a person always has the advantage over a foe, no matter what his weapon, provided it is not a firearm. but the collision did not take place. three indians interposed, restraining the fierce red man; among the foremost being starcus, who roughly seized the upraised arm and forced the warrior back several steps, using some strong words in his own language. the savage strove to free himself that he might attack the youth, but he was not permitted, and finally gave up the effort and withdrew sullenly into the background. this incident was hardly over, when the second warrior that had gone down before the young irishman's prowess also gained his feet. he looked as if he would very much like to try conclusions again, with the aid of one of his weapons, but he seemed to think he could bide his time, and have it out on a more fitting occasion. the captive was too wise to place a favorable construction on the interference of starcus, despite the additional fact of his kindly offices of the morning. the rest of the sioux had shown a wish to take him prisoner, for certainly the chance to bring him down had been theirs more than once. actuated by their intense hatred of the white race, they looked upon sudden death as too merciful to a foe that had done them so much ill. he had slain one of their best men, and knocked prostrate two others; no punishment, therefore, was too cruel to be visited upon him. while the group stood about the helpless captive they talked in their own language, without tim being able to guess the meaning of a word uttered. he watched the countenances closely, and was surprised a minute or two later by the appearance of the last member of the party. he came straggling up as though he felt no concern in the proceedings. that which interested tim the most was the sight of his valued winchester in the fellow's hand. for one moment the youth thought he meant to hand it over to him, but that would have been a stretch of hospitality of which none of his race could ever be guilty. he did a rare thing for an indian--indulged in a grin of pleasure at the prize which his companions had passed by to allow it to fall into his possession. in his trying situation, tim brophy could not avoid a feeling of curiosity concerning starcus. to him the fellow's conduct was inexplicable. while his presence among the sioux was proof that he was "with them" in thought, intention, and feeling, yet there was the friendly act of the morning during the struggle with the grizzly, and his late interference to prevent the warrior from injuring him, which united to puzzle the captive. as has been said, he was too wise to build much hope on these facts, but nevertheless they raised doubts and questions relating wholly to the future. would starcus continue to hold his present enmity to the people that had been friendly to him? while he had been carried away by the frenzy that had driven so many of his people out of their senses, was not an awakening likely to take place, when his better nature would resume control? could he forget that he had eaten salt with this hapless fellow, and stand by, without raising hand or voice, when his extremity should come, as come it must, in a very brief while? but these were questions that tim brophy could not answer; they must be left for the immediate future. chapter xxiv. the friend in need. while these lively scenes were taking place, warren starr was not idle. the report of his gun was plainly heard by the other sioux and the captive, but the former took it for granted that it was fired by their comrade, and calmly awaited his return with the news of the death of the fugitive. but as the reader has learned the boot was on the other leg. the youth was unharmed, and his enemy was of no further account. actuated by the chivalrous wish to help tim, he began cautiously picking his way along the slope, at a considerable distance from the base, peering forward and listening intently for sights and sounds that could tell him how his companion had fared. he had better fortune than he dared expect. the flickering of something among the trees warned him that he was in a delicate position, and his farther advance was with the utmost care, accompanied by glances on every hand, to guard against walking into a trap. very soon he reached a point from which he saw all that was going on. tim was standing defiantly among the sioux, who appeared to be discussing the question of what to do with him. he identified starcus, and recognized also the hapless state of affairs. much as he regretted the conclusion, warren starr was forced, in spite of himself, to see that it was out of his power to raise a finger to help his friend. for one moment he meditated bringing his winchester to his shoulder and opening fire, but at the best he could not hope to bring down more than two or three before the others would be upon him. with no possible way of escape open, the situation of tim would be worse than before, for one of the first things done by the sioux would be to slay him on the spot, whereas they were now likely to spare him for a time, and so long as he had life, so long did hope remain. warren would have been as eager to befriend the brave fellow as the latter would have been to aid him; but, as we have said, there was no dodging the fact that it was out of his power. what, therefore, should he do for himself and the other loved ones for whom all this danger had been incurred? where were that father, mother, and little sister? they might be in equally sore distress, and longer delay on his part perhaps would decide the question of life or death. stealthily withdrawing again, until well beyond sight of the group, he began carefully descending the side of the ridge toward the open prairie. in doing so, he avoided doubling on his own trail, for at any moment some of the sioux were liable to start out on a tour of investigation, which would bring them face to face with him. with all his senses on the alert, he threaded his way among the trees and around the rocks and bowlders, until he stood on the base of the elevation, with the broad plain, across which he and his friend had fled in such desperate haste, stretching out before him for many miles. but another sight interested him. along the foot of the ridge were scattered nearly a dozen indian ponies, cropping as best they could the grass, whose tops faintly showed above the thin coating of snow. their owners had abandoned them in their haste, without thought of securing them to any of the limbs, confident that they would be found within reach when wanted. they were tough little animals, without saddle or bridle. the majority had a blanket roughly secured over the back, with a thong about the upper part of the neck, which was all that was needed to guide them wherever their masters willed. but there was one animal worth all the rest for whom the eyes of the youth eagerly searched among the group, scattered at varying distances. he would have given anything for a sight of his own jack at that moment. to his astonishment, he saw nothing of him. through some unaccountable cause, he had vanished as utterly as if he had never existed. in the vain hope of discovering him, warren glanced from one to the other, until he had surveyed each one several times over. but there was no mistake; jack was invisible. the fact caused him keen regret, but it would not do to tarry, with the certainty that the sioux would soon learn the truth and be after him like a whirlwind. one or two of their ponies were almost as fleet as jack, and warren was a good enough horseman to ride them as well as their masters could without saddle. fixing his attention on the best looking animal, which happened also to be the nearest, he moved briskly toward him, with the purpose of bounding upon his back and dashing away; but his abruptness defeated his intention. it frightened the pony, who with a snort threw up his head, trotted several rods out on the prairie, and then turned and looked at him. the alarm of this animal communicated itself to the others, who also hurriedly trotted beyond his reach. the situation was critical. the action of the ponies was almost certain to be heard by their owners a short distance off, and they would be quickly on the spot. if they caught sight of the youth on foot trying to steal one, his position would be far more hopeless than when among the rocks and trees. seeing his mistake, warren tried to right matters by a less abrupt approach. he dropped to a slow walk, holding out his hand and uttering soothing words. had he done this at the beginning, he would have had no trouble in capturing any horse he desired, but the animals identified him as a stranger, and continued shy. the finest, which he had sought first to catch, closely watched him as he slowly approached, but at the very moment the heart of the youth was beating high with hope, he swung his head around and trotted beyond reach. warren turned his attention to the one that was nearest, and by a sudden dash aimed to catch his halter, one end of which was dangling in the snow. as he stooped to grasp the thong, it was whisked from under his hand, and the pony galloped beyond his reach. the bitter disappointment made warren desperate. he had undertaken an impossible task. he might succeed had more time been at his command, but the sioux were liable to appear any minute. it would not do for him to be caught in this situation. he must abandon the attempt and get back among the trees and rocks, where there remained the bare possibility of eluding the red men. "what the mischief has become of jack?" he muttered, facing about and breaking into a lope for the ridge. "if he were only in sight, he would come to me at once. hello! just what i feared!" at that juncture he detected something moving among the trees. it was not clearly seen, but not doubting that the sioux were coming, he broke into a run for cover, not daring to risk a shot until partial shelter was secured. in his affright he did not dare glance to the left even, and held his breath in thrilling expectancy, certain that with every leap he took he would be greeted by a volley, or that the sioux would throw themselves across his track to shut off all chance of escape. that they did not do so was not only unaccountable to him, but gave him the hope that possibly he might still elude them. bending his head, he ran with might and main. the distance was not great, but it seemed tenfold greater than it was, and a slip of the foot, which came near bringing him to his knees, filled his heart with despair and made him certain that he would soon join tim brophy. he heard his pursuers at his heels. despite his own fleetness, they were outspeeding him. nothing could save him from being overtaken before reaching the ridge. suddenly a peculiarity in the sound made by those at his rear caused him abruptly to halt and look around. then, to his unbounded delight and amazement, he recognized his own pony, jack, striving hard to keep him company. chapter xxv. the prairie duel. warren starr could have hugged his pony in his transport of delight. until a moment before he was sure several of the sioux were upon him; when, wheeling about, he was confronted by jack, whom he had been desirous of meeting above every other person or animal in the world. the action of the horse he understood. on the sudden flight of his master he had attempted to follow him among the rocks and trees of the ridge; the indians, in the flurry of the occasion, paying no attention to him. failing, he was making his way back to the open prairie, when the sight of his master sent him galloping after him; warren being too panic-stricken to suspect the truth until he was well-nigh run down by the faithful animal. "heaven bless you, jack!" he exclaimed, with glowing face and joyous heart; "you are in the nick of time." saddle and trappings were unharmed, though the tapering limbs of the creature had been scratched and cut by his attempt to follow his master. the youth was in the saddle in a twinkling, and, but for the sad situation of tim brophy, he would have uttered a shout of triumph. for in truth he felt safe, even though the hostiles were dangerously near. remembering this, he rode farther out from the ridge, and whooped and swung his arms at the indian ponies, who dashed still farther out on the plain. it was inevitable that this tumult should become known to the captors of tim brophy. young starr expected it, and therefore was not surprised when he saw the figures of several warriors at the base of the ridge. he could not forbear swinging his winchester over his head and taunting them. they replied with several shots, but the distance was too great for warren to feel any alarm. he, too, discharged his gun at the group, and acted as if he meant to challenge them to come out and attack him. if such were his intentions, the challenge was accepted. several warriors ran out on the prairie, calling to their ponies, in order that they might mount and take up the pursuit. their action caused the youth no alarm, for the test of speed had already been made, and he feared none of the indian animals. the latter may have been under good discipline when their masters were astride of them, but they showed anything but obedience now that they were free from their control. they kept trotting about in circles, and avoided the warriors with a persistency that must have been exasperating to them. only one displayed consideration for his master. he was among the fleetest, and after some coy dallying he stood still until the athletic sioux came beside him. he vaulted upon his back, and then accepted the seeming challenge of the youth. the latter had checked his steed at a safe distance on the snowy plain, and confronted the indian party. looking beyond the warrior nearest him, he strove to catch sight of tim brophy; but he was too far off, and the trees interfered with his vision. before he could continue the scrutiny long, the mounted sioux demanded his attention. prudence would have suggested that now, since young starr was well mounted, he should take no chances, but scurry away at the top of his speed, leaving the discomfited warrior to nurse his chagrin over the clever trick played upon him. but the young rancher saw no reason why he should flee from a single buck, no better mounted or armed than himself. he had had enough experience in the northwest to understand those people well, and thought he knew how to take care of himself. no, he would fight him; and now opened a most extraordinary prairie duel between warren starr and his dusky enemy. the youth glanced at his winchester, and saw that it was all right, as was the case with his revolver. his saddle was firmly cinched in place, jack was at his best, and what cared he for a single indian, even though he was a warrior that had taken the scalp of more than one unoffending pioneer! jack stood as motionless as a statue, with his nose toward his enemy. a gentle wind blowing across the prairie lifted his luxuriant mane slightly from his neck and swung his heavy tail to one side. his head was high, and the nostrils seemed to breathe defiance to the dusky foe, who approached at a swinging gallop, as though he meant to ride down the animal and rider. but he held no such intention. the sioux required no one to tell him that that stationary figure, sitting so firmly in his saddle, meant to fight. while more than a hundred yards still separated the combatants the sioux horseman wheeled to the right, and, without checking his speed, started to describe a long circle around the youth. the latter spoke softly to jack, who slowly turned, so as to keep his head continually pointed toward the enemy. evidently the animal understood the situation, and was competent to do his part. the sioux at the base of the ridge had given over their effort for the time to capture their ponies. all their attention was centred on the two horsemen out on the prairie. as yet the indian made no move to fire. warren was looking for him to throw himself over the side of his animal, and aim from under his neck, screening his own body meanwhile from the bullet of the young rancher. instead of doing so, however, he described a complete circle about warren, coming back to his starting point, while jack continued to move around, as if on a pivot, keeping his head always facing his foe. the warrior was starting on his second round, when, without any perceptible movement, he discharged his gun. warren saw the blue puff of smoke, the report sounding dull and far away in the wintry air. the bullet did not pass nigh enough for him to be aware how close it was. it would seem that the indian ought to have done better, for it was noticeable from where warren sat that in completing his circle he had shortened it, and was now several rods nearer than when he set out to circumnavigate him. "it is no more than fair to return the compliment," thought warren, raising his winchester, taking careful aim, and pulling the trigger. truth compels us to say, however, that his shot went as wide of the mark as the one aimed at him. thus far honors were equal between them. the sioux continued his trip around the central object, though what he expected or hoped to accomplish by this curious proceeding was more than his antagonist could conjecture. the advantage during the performance possibly was with young starr; for, by keeping the nose of jack pointed toward the other he offered the least possible target to the foe, while the course of the indian compelled him to hold his pony broadside, himself remaining a conspicuous object on his back. "i think i can shorten this business," reflected starr, "by another shot or two. i am standing still, and if i can't bring that fellow off his horse i'm of little account." but the sioux was more watchful than he suspected. hardly was the winchester raised when, presto! the warrior disappeared. he had flung himself far on the other side of his pony, and was capable of maintaining that situation while making the circuit of the youth. the latter held his fire. he was confident of being able to hit the other animal, but to his mind that would be taking a dishonorable advantage, though none knew better than he that he was dealing with an enemy to whom treachery was a cardinal virtue. the horse showed no decrease of his speed, but continued galloping forward with the easy swing shown by the trained circus animal when an equestrian is giving an exhibition. that the rider, from his position on the other side of his body, with his moccason extended over the spine of the animal, was keeping close watch of the youth the latter did not need to be told. he must have seen warren, after holding his weapon levelled for a moment, lower it again, disappointed at the vanishing target. the next moment the sioux discharged his weapon. chapter xxvi. on the ground. the aim of the warrior was better than before, and though it was not fatal, it came startlingly near being so. the bullet nipped the ear of the pony, and cut through the coat of warren starr; grazing his shoulder in the passage. there could be no question that the red man was in dead earnest, and that when he discharged his rifle he meant to kill. it must not be supposed there was any holding back on the part of the youth; he was equally resolved that, if the chance were given, he would do his best to bring his antagonist from the back of his horse. the sioux resumed his circling course, gradually drawing nearer the young man, who continued as alert as at the first; ready to take advantage of any opening that presented itself. suddenly the red man wheeled his pony in the opposite direction, doubling on his own course. this compelled him to swing over to the other side in order to continue his use of the animal as a shield. he executed the movement with wonderful deftness, but a singular condition was against him. young starr had just formed the decision that the best, if indeed not the only thing he could do, was to shoot the steed of his foe. this was easy, and with the indian dismounted he would be at a great disadvantage, though likely still to use the body of his animal as a guard against the marksmanship of his enemy; but the latter counted on the flurry giving him his opportunity. thus it happened that at the moment the winchester was at warren's shoulder, and his eye was ranging along the barrel, he caught a glimpse of the dusky body in the act of whisking over that of the pony. the glimpse was only momentary, but under the peculiar conditions it was just what was needed. the youth fired, and with such accuracy that the warrior lunged over his steed, and sprawled in the snow on the other side. the released animal threw up his head with a snort, and trotted toward the ridge as if he, too, had felt the sting of the bullet and was hastening away from a possible repetition. the sight of the indian on the ground told the youth of the success of his shot, but it did not lead him to do anything rash, as would have been natural in the flush of triumph. the sioux was not yet killed, and was still capable of mischief. warren rode rapidly a few yards toward him, and then brought jack to an abrupt halt. he had seen something suspicious in the actions of his enemy. "is he shamming?" was the question he asked himself, as he leaned forward, carefully keeping the head and neck of jack in front of his body, and on the alert against a treacherous shot. the sioux seemed to have fallen on his side, with his face turned partly away from the youth. with surprising quickness he shifted his position so as to confront the horseman, and still lay prostrate in the snow, as if unable to rise. there might be a sinister meaning to this. the pretence of being mortally disabled was an old one with his people, as many a white man has learned when too late. if he were trying the artifice in the present instance, he did it skilfully. under the belief that he was powerless to inflict further harm, nothing was more natural than that the youth should ride forward with the purpose of giving him his quietus, disregarding his own safety until a bullet through the body should apprise him of his fatal oversight. it was this fear that checked warren in the very nick of time. the one great obstacle in the way of the sioux successfully playing this ruse was that he was in open view, where no movement on his part could be concealed. were it in the wood, with rocks and trees at his command, the chances would have been far better for him. warren starr kept his eye fixed on him. it would have been easy, while seated on his own pony, to drive a ball through the miscreant, who was fully exposed to his fire, but it might be after all that he was badly wounded and unable to defend himself. if such were the case he could not commit the cruelty of firing at him again, even though the sioux would have eagerly seized such a chance against a foe. it was for the purpose of learning the truth in the matter that warren watched him with the utmost closeness, holding his own weapon ready to use the instant the other made a hostile demonstration. the action or rather inaction of the other sioux at the base of the ridge was suggestive, and increased the suspicion of the young rancher. they were in a direct line with the one on the ground, so that warren readily saw them without withdrawing his attention from his immediate antagonist. instead of rushing out to the help of the latter they remained where they were, and continued the role of spectators. this looked as if they did not believe the fellow was in need of assistance, and they were simply waiting with confidence in the result of the piece of treacherous cunning. the warrior with his left hand drew his rifle round to the front. the weapon was a magazine one like warren's, and it was one, therefore, of which it would not do to lose sight. the gun being in position for use, the owner, apparently with difficulty, raised the upper part of his body, so that it was supported on the left elbow. then he essayed to call the right hand into play, but appeared to find a difficulty in doing so. up to this moment warren starr had been trying to learn in what manner the fellow was wounded. the motion of his lower limbs showed no weakness, though it might have been there without appearing, so long as he held his prone position and did not call them into use. the action now indicated that his right arm was the one that had suffered, since it fumbled awkwardly and refused to give the needed help when called upon. still all this might be pretence, intended to deceive the youth into uncovering himself. warren did not lose sight of that probability. the action of the sioux was precisely what it would have been had he, knowing that he was confronted by a merciless enemy, done his utmost, while badly wounded in the right arm, to bring his weapon to bear upon him. there was no hesitation or trouble with the left arm, but it was the other which, from appearances, refused to answer the call upon it. it was seen to move aimlessly about, but still was unable to help in aiming, and the hand could not manipulate the trigger--an impotence which, if actual, was fatal. but who can trust an indian? knowing that his slightest action could not escape the keen eyes of the youthful horseman a short distance away, was he not likely to direct every movement with the purpose of deceiving him? the truth must show itself soon; but be it what it might, warren starr had the comforting belief that he was master of the situation. he was unharmed, with his ready winchester in such position that he could use it like a flash. as yet the sioux had not brought himself to the point of aiming, and warren was watching him so closely that he could anticipate his firing. he was resolved that the instant he attempted to shoot he would let fly, and end the singular prairie duel. it has taken considerable time to make all this clear, but the incidents from the fall of the sioux to the close occupied but a few minutes. young starr spoke in a low voice to his pony, who began moving slowly toward the prostrate indian, the rider holding his weapon ready as before. jack took short and very deliberate steps, for he did not like the appearance of things. a man lying on the ground is always a disquieting object to a horse, and this one had already felt the sting of the indian's anger when the bullet clipped a tiny speck out of his ear. warren starr was resolved to learn the truth, and he did so before jack had advanced a dozen steps. chapter xxvii. a good samaritan. the young rancher was yet some distance from the prostrate foe, when his quick eye discovered something. it was a crimson stain on the snow near the stock of the indian's rifle. the miscreant was wounded; he was not shamming. it was remarkable that with this discovery came an utter revulsion of feeling on the part of the youth. while he had been ready up to that moment to drive his bullet through the bronzed skull, an emotion of pity now took possession of him. he forgot that the fellow had tried with desperate endeavor to take his life, and he knew he expected no mercy at his hands. nevertheless, as a christian, he could not withhold his sympathy, nor could he forget that simple but sublime role of the good samaritan. touching his heels against the ribs of jack, the pony increased his pace, but had not yet reached the prostrate figure when warren experienced the greatest surprise of all. the indian on the ground was starcus! the next moment young starr dropped from his saddle, and was bending over him. "i hardly expected this, starcus," he said, with a gentle reproof in his voice. "you seem to have changed your mind since this morning, when you shot the grizzly." indian though he was the fellow's painted face was darkened by an expression of deep pain, whether the result of his hurt or of his mental disquietude no one can say. "i am not your friend; i am the enemy of all white men." "you have proven that since you turned against those who would do you no harm. but i have no wish to reproach you; your arm is badly hurt; let me give you what help i can." "i want no help," replied the sioux, resolutely compressing his thin lips; "go away and leave me alone." "i shall not; i am your master, and shall do as i please with you." "i tell you to leave me alone; i do not want your help," added starcus fiercely. "you shan't hinder me, old fellow; this is for old times." and paying no heed to the sufferer, who struggled with pitiful awkwardness to keep him off, starr ripped a piece from the lining of his coat, and began bandaging the bleeding arm. the sioux still resisted, but while doing so showed a weakness rare in one of his race by fainting dead away. the youth made no effort to revive him until he had completed his hasty but rude swathing of the arm, which was badly shattered by a bullet. then he flung some snow in the face of the fellow, who had already shown signs of coming to. starcus looked around for a moment in a bewildered way, and then fixed his gaze on the wounded member, now bound so that the flow of blood was stopped. then he turned his dark eyes on the face of the youth bending over him, with an indescribable expression, and said in a low voice: "i tried my best to kill you, warren." "but you didn't; and i am unharmed, and am your friend." "and why are you my friend? i do not deserve it," continued the sioux, with his black eyes still centred on the face of the athletic youth. "if you and i had what we deserved where would we be? give it no further thought." starcus now held his peace for a full minute, during which he never once removed his gaze from the countenance of the good samaritan. strange thoughts must have passed through his brain. when he spoke it was in a voice as gentle as a girl's. "can you forgive me for what i have done?" "with my whole heart." "but i tried my best to kill you." "are you sorry?" "yes, sorry as i can be." "then i repeat, i forgive you; but are you able to rise to your feet?" "yes; i pretended i was not, so as to bring you closer to me. had not my arm been hurt i would have shot you." "i am not sure of that," replied warren, with a curious smile; "i suspected it, and was on my guard. at the first move on your part i would have fired. i was not sure even that you were hurt at all until i saw blood on the snow. but it will not do for you to stay here. let me help you to your feet." starcus proved that the rest of his limbs were uninjured by coming as nimbly as an acrobat to an upright posture. "you have done all you can for me, and i thank you; now do not wait any longer." "why not?" asked warren, suspecting his meaning, but desirous of testing him a little further. "look toward the ridge," was the significant reply. the inaction of the other sioux, as has been intimated, was due to their belief that starcus was master of the situation. even when they saw him pitch from the back of his pony they must have thought it a part of the strategy designed to lure the young man to his death. but the sight of the youth bending over the prostrate figure of their comrade told the truth. starcus had been wounded, and was at the mercy of his conqueror. much as the warriors were disappointed, they were not the ones to allow the brave fellow to be killed without an effort on their part to save him. warren had suspected the truth, and, while seeming to be unaware of it, he observed several of the warriors running at full speed from the ridge out on the snowy prairie. they were still a goodly distance away, and he calculated just how far it was prudent to allow them to approach before appealing to jack, standing within a few paces and awaiting his pleasure. he was hoping for just such a warning from starcus as he had received. he wanted it as a "guarantee of good faith," and when it came all doubts of the sincerity of his repentance were gone. still, although this particular sioux might feel gratitude for the undeserved mercy shown to him, there was no hope of anything of that nature from his companions. had warren counted upon that, he would have made the mistake of his life. he and his friend had done the bucks too much ill to be forgiven for an act of kindness to one of their number, even though it was actuated by a motive whose nobility they could not fail to understand. "that is kind of you, to warn me of my danger," remarked the youth. "i shall not forget it. but they are so far off that i need not hurry to mount my horse." "do not wait too long; they will soon be here." "i have my pony, and they are on foot." "but they can run fast." "i will leave in time; but, starcus, if you are really a friend of mine, you have the chance to prove it by being a friend of tim; he is a prisoner with your people, and in need of your good offices." "i cannot help him," was the reply, accompanied by a shake of the head. "i only ask that you shall do what you can; i am sure you will, whether it results in good to him or not." "give yourself no hope of that; it will be hard for me to explain why i was spared by you." "but that was my own affair; surely they cannot suspect us of any collusion." "you do not know my people as i do." "but i am not the first white man that has shown mercy to a helpless foe; they know that as well as you and i." "you are waiting too long, warren; they will soon be here," added the warrior, with an apprehensive glance toward the ridge, from which his people were approaching with alarming swiftness. "well, good-by, starcus." he grasped the left hand of the sioux, who warmly returned the pressure with the words, "good-by, warren." then warren starr, not a moment too soon, sprang into the saddle and galloped away. chapter xxviii. the lone horseman. the young rancher had calculated matters closely, for hardly was he in the saddle when the foremost of the running sioux halted, raised his gun, and fired. he was nigh enough to make his shot dangerous, though providentially it did no ill. it was an inviting chance for warren to return the fire with the best prospect of doing so effectively. but he had no disposition to slay any one of the hostiles. his singular experience with starcus had a softening effect, and he was resolved to attempt no injury against the men unless compelled to do it in actual self-defence. jack, being put to his best paces, quickly carried him beyond any further peril, and when far enough to feel safe he checked the pony and looked back. he saw half a dozen sioux gathered around the wounded starcus, evidently in conversation. being strong in his lower limbs, and with his wounded arm bandaged as well as it could be, he required no attention or help from them. after all, knowing the buck had been a close friend of the young rancher, they must have seen nothing remarkable in the mercy that had been shown to him. white men are as capable of meanness and cruelty as the indians, but few of them disregard the laws of honorable warfare, and still fewer are deaf to the cry of a hapless foe. a few minutes later the group moved slowly back in the direction of the ridge. a couple, however, drew off, and began a more systematic hunt of the ponies that had shown such a fondness for their freedom. they managed matters with such skill that they soon coaxed a couple of the fleetest back to captivity. with the aid of these they soon corralled the others, and the party gathered with their animals at the base of the ridge. warren starr remained at a safe distance for the greater part of an hour, in the hope of learning something of the intentions of the sioux. but they gave no sign that he could understand. the ponies were in plain sight near the trees, and he caught glimpses of their owners moving back and forth, but nothing could be learned as to what it all meant. he now debated what he should next do. he was free, well mounted, and at liberty to follow his own judgment. his immediate anxiety was concerning tim brophy. he knew he was in the most perilous strait of his life; warren's parents might be as badly situated, but he had no knowledge of the fact. he therefore hoped for the best concerning them. but if there was any way of helping his friend it was beyond his power to discover it. he was a prisoner in the hands of a dozen watchful and treacherous sioux, who were not likely to give him the least chance of escape, and any attempt on the part of warren to befriend him would not only be utterly useless, but would imperil his own life. he had appealed to starcus to make the effort, but warren saw the force of the indian's declaration that it was beyond his power. he was wounded himself, and at the first move to interfere in behalf of the captive, who had killed one of their best warriors and badly bruised a couple, would be likely to bring down their vengeance upon his own head. distressing as was the conclusion, there was no escaping it--he must turn his back on his devoted comrade. warren accepted the situation like a martyr, and had decided to continue his search for his folks, of whose whereabouts he had only the vaguest idea. two lines of action presented themselves, and there was much to be said in favor of and against both. by sharp riding he could reach fort meade before sunset, and there whatever help he might need would be cheerfully given by the commandant. under the guidance of the friendly indian scouts, they could search for the rancher and his family; and their knowledge of the people, as well as the country, would render such search far more effective than any by the youth, without taking into account the force that would insure safety instantly on such discovery. but this plan involved considerable time, with the certainty that his folks must spend another night in imminent peril--a night that he could not help believing was to prove the decisive one. knowing nothing of the death of jared plummer, warren hoped that he was with his father, despite the gloomy prophecy of tim brophy. if the young rancher could join them, the party would be considerable, and ought to hold its own against any band of indians such as were roaming through the country. besides, all would be well mounted and prepared for flight whenever advisable. these and other considerations, which it is not necessary to name, decided the youth to make further search for his folks before riding to fort meade. one fact caused him no little speculation. it will be remembered that the approach of himself and tim to the ridge was caused by the discovery of a thin column of smoke climbing into the sky from a more elevated portion than that attained by themselves or the sioux with whom they had had the stirring encounter. he did not forget, either, that the red men with whom they had exchanged shots, and from whom he had escaped by the narrowest chance conceivable, appeared from the opposite direction. neither then, nor at any time since, had anything occurred to explain the meaning of the vapor that had arrested their attention when miles away. if it had been kindled by sioux or brother hostiles, why had they not appeared and taken a hand in the lively proceedings? abundant time was given, and if they were there they ought to have met the fugitives at the close of their desperate chase, when they sprang from the back of jack and dashed among the trees on foot. it was these questions which caused the youth to suspect that the fire might have been started by his father. true, he had expressed a disbelief in this view when given by tim, but that was before the later phase had dawned upon him. it looked like a rash act on the part of the rancher, if he had performed it, but there might be excuse for his appealing to the signal that he had employed in a former instance to apprise his son of his location. speculation and guessing, however, could go on forever without result. there was but one way of learning the truth, and that was to investigate for himself. prudence demanded that the sioux at the base of the ridge should be given no inkling of his intention; and, in order to prevent it, a long detour was necessary to take him out of their field of vision. accordingly he turned so as to follow a course parallel to the ridge, and breaking into a swift canter kept it up until, when he turned in the saddle and looked back, not the first sign of the hostiles was visible. he was now miles distant, too far to return on foot, even had he felt inclined to abandon jack and try it alone. he rode close to the base of the ridge, whose curving course was favorable, and facing about started back toward the point he had left after his survey of the party that held tim brophy a prisoner. he did not believe there was any special danger in this, for he had only to maintain a sharp lookout to detect the sioux, if they happened to be journeying in that direction. the broad stretch of open plain gave him every chance he could ask to turn the fleetness of jack to the best account: and he feared no pursuit that could be made, where he was granted anything like a chance. his purpose was to approach as near the spot as was prudent, provided they remained where he last saw them, and then, dismounting, penetrate nigh enough to learn the meaning of the smoke which was such an interesting fact to him. the task was a difficult one, for it was more than probable that by the time he reached the neighborhood of the signal fire it would be extinguished; for certainly his father would not continue the display after it had failed in its purpose, and the appearance of the hostiles showed him that it was liable to do more harm than good. chapter xxix. a break for freedom. accustomed as are the sioux to scenes of violence, it is not probable that any members of the party to whom we have been referring ever looked upon a sight so remarkable as the prairie duel between starcus and the young rancher. this indian, who had come among his native people in the hope of staying the tide of frenzy sweeping through the tribe, was himself carried away by the craze, and from a peaceable, well-educated youth became among the most violent of those that arrayed themselves against the white man. it was one of the better impulses of his nature that led him to fire the shot when tim brophy was in such danger from the grizzly bear; but, as he afterward confessed, it was no sooner done than he reproached himself for not having turned his weapon against the two youths for whom he had once entertained a strong friendship. when the headlong irishman started toward him, starcus hurried away, and not only joined a band of prowling hostiles, but told them of the lads, and joined in a scheme to capture and hold them as hostages for several turbulent sioux then in the hands of the government authorities. knowing them as well as he did, he formed the plan of stealing up behind them, while they were riding across the snowy prairie, and the partial success of the plan has been shown. his comrades watched the opening and progress of the strange duel with no misgiving as to the results. they saw how a run of wonderful fortune had helped the young rancher, but now, when something like equality existed between the combatants, the superiority of the american over the caucasian race must manifest itself. as events progressed the interest of the spectators deepened. they descended to the edge of the plain, where the view was unobstructed, leaving but a solitary warrior guarding the prisoner. the solicitude of the latter for his friend was as intense as it could be, for he could not be sure of the result until the end. he feared that warren starr was committing the same rashness for which he had often chided him. the view from the rocks through the intervening trees was so imperfect that it grew to be exasperating, but there seemed to be no help for it. the warrior in charge of tim brophy was expected to give his full attention to him, but as events progressed there was danger of his forgetting this duty. he began to look more to the singular contest than to his captive. this indian was standing on his feet, leaning forward, and peering as best he could between the trees and the obstructing limbs. tim was seated on a bowlder at his side, and until this moment was the target of a pair of eyes that would have detected the slightest movement on his part. the irishman was quick to observe that by the strange trend of events a golden opportunity had or was about to come to him. the warrior seemed to forget him entirely, though, like all his people, he would be recalled with lightning quickness on hearing or seeing anything amiss. surely no such chance could come again. convinced of this, tim seized it with the rush of a hurricane. rising quickly and noiselessly to his feet he delivered a blow as quick as a flash under the ear of the sioux, which stretched him like a dead man on his face. there had been no noise, and in the excitement of the occasion the indians at the base of the ridge were not likely to learn what had taken place until the revival of the senseless warrior, who was not likely to become of any account for several minutes. tim needed no urging to improve his opportunity. facing the top of the ridge, he started off with a single desire of getting over the rough ground as fast as possible. he had taken but a few steps, however, when he abruptly stopped. "begorra!" he muttered, "but what a forgitful spalpeen is tim brophy!" he had no rifle. that would never do, when pursuit was inevitable in a short time. accordingly, he turned about, ran to the prostrate figure, and took the gun from his grasp. it was not as good as his own, but inasmuch as that was in the possession of one of the others it was beyond recovery. it seemed cruel, but to make matters safe the irishman gave the prostrate fellow a second vigorous blow, from which he was certain not to recover for a considerable while. "i hate to hit a man whin he is down," he reflected. "if i meets him ag'in i'll ax his pardon." it was no time to indulge in sentiment, and he was off once more. some strange fate directed his steps, without his noticing the fact, along the trail made by warren starr in his first hurried flight. thus it was that he came upon the other warrior that had been outwitted by the youth whom he was so confident of capturing. urgent as was his hurry, the fugitive paused a moment to contemplate the sight. then with a sigh he hurried forward, for not a moment was to be lost. it was remarkable that, after having captured the young man with so much difficulty, they should have invited him to escape, as they virtually did by their action, but the circumstances themselves were exceptional. the like could not happen again. it was the same curious turn of events that extended his opportunity. it is rare, indeed, that, after a captive does make a break for freedom, he is allowed such a period in which to secure it; but here again the unparalleled series of incidents favored him. there had been no outcry on the part of the third victim to tim brophy's good right arm. but for the forgetfulness of the youth in starting off without his gun, the fellow would have recovered speedily and made an outcry that must have brought several of his confederates to the spot. but events were interesting beyond compare out on the prairie. all the sioux but the one named were watching them, and when they saw the plight of starcus there was a general rush to his assistance. the return was slow, being retarded by the efforts of several to capture their wandering ponies. when they succeeded in doing this and coming back to the edge of the plains, the better part of half an hour had passed. the first startling recollection that came to the party after this return was the fact that the warrior who had pursued the young rancher up the side of the ridge had not put in an appearance. they would have awakened to this fact long before but for the affair between warren starr and starcus. now that it was impressed upon them, and they recalled the report of the gun that reached them long ago, together with the reappearance of the young rancher on the back of his pony, they could not fail to see the suspicious aspect of things. there was a hasty consultation at the base of the ridge, and then the man who was really the leader ordered a couple of his warriors to lose no time in learning the truth. as eager as he to investigate, they set out without delay, but had not gone far when one of them uttered a cry which brought the whole party to the spot. a striking scene greeted them. the white prisoner was gone, and the indian left in charge lay on his face like one dead. his gun was missing. strange proceedings had taken place during the absence of the party. it took but a few minutes to learn the truth. it was easy to see that the interest of the guard in the incidents on the plain had caused him to forget his duty for the time. the irishman had suddenly assailed him with that terrible right arm of his, and felled him senseless to the ground. the recipient of this attention was not dead, but he felt as though he wished he was, when he was helped to a sitting position, and was compelled not only to suffer the pain of the terrific blows received, but had to face the jeering looks of his companions, who could forgive anything sooner than the outwitting of a full-grown warrior by a trick which ought not to have deceived a child. chapter xxx. comrades again. actuated by his resolution to learn the real meaning of the signal fire seen on the crest of the ridge, warren starr pushed on in the face of the fact that every rod in the way of advance increased his own peril. studying the contour of the country, and carefully making his calculations, he was able to tell when he drew near the scene of his stirring encounter with the war party of sioux. deeming it unsafe to ride farther, he drew his pony aside, and, dismounting, led him among the rocks and trees, until he was beyond sight of anyone passing over the open country. he did not forget that a plain trail was left, which would serve as an unerring guide to those hostiles who might come upon it, but that was one of the risks of the undertaking which could not be avoided. "now, jack, my boy, i want you to stay right here till i come back again," he said, in parting from the animal. "you have been faithful and have served me well, and i can depend upon you, for you are sure to do the best you can." there could be no doubt on that point, and without any more delay he left the creature and began toiling up the ascent, his winchester firmly in his grasp, and as alert as ever for the sudden appearance of his enemies. an astounding surprise was at hand. he had penetrated but a short distance from his starting point when he became aware that someone else was in the vicinity. he caught only a flitting glimpse of a person, who, descrying him at the same instant, whisked behind a bowlder for protection. warren was equally prompt, and the two dodged out of each other's sight in a twinkling. "if there is only one indian," reflected the young rancher, "i ought to be able to take care of myself--great heavens!" the exclamation was caused by the sight of tim brophy, who stepped from behind the shelter and walked toward him. young starr was astounded, and believed for a minute that his friend had been put forward as a decoy, and that his captors were immediately behind him. but that dread was removed the next moment by the appearance of the young irishman, who, advancing jauntily, called out in his cheery voice: "it's all roight, me boy! none of the spalpeens are here, and it's mesilf that would like to shake ye by the hand." that the two warmly grasped hands and greeted each other need not be stated. even then warren could only murmur: "why, tim, this is the greatest surprise of my life! where in the name of the seven wonders did you come from? and how came you to give them the slip?" "it was that which helped me out," replied the other, holding up his clenched fist; "it b'ats all other wippons whin ye git into a tight corner." not until the fellow had told his story could the other comprehend the amazing truth. then he saw how a marvellous combination of circumstances had helped him, and how cleverly the quick-witted youth had turned them to account. "i must shake hands with you again," responded the delighted warren. "i never knew of anything more remarkable." "ye didn't think ye could give me any hilp," chuckled tim, "but ye did it all the same." "how?" "haven't i told ye that the little circus ye opened out on the plain drew away all the spalpeens but the single one lift to look after me? and don't ye understand that ye made things so interesting that he forgot me until i reminded him i was there by giving him a welt under the ear that he won't forgit in a dog's age?" "i see; but i never dreamed of any such result as that." "nor did i, but it came all the same, and sarved me as will as if ye had fixed up the whole business." noticing the strange weapon in his hand warren referred to it, and then received the whole story. "well, it beats anything i ever heard of. jack isn't far off, and we can use him as we did before." "and may i ask what ye are doing here so close to the spalpeens, whin ye ought to be miles away?" "i set out to learn whether that fire whose smoke we saw was started by father or not. i didn't think so when you and i were talking it over, but can't rid myself of the suspicion till i find out for myself." tim nodded his head, and said: "yis; it was mr. starr that did it." "how can you know that?" "i've been there, and found out," was the surprising reply. "where are he and mother now?" "can't say; i'm looking for them. whin i give the spalpeens the slip i did the best travelling i knew how, and without thinking of anything but getting away as quick as i could i coom right onto the spot where the fire had been burning. it hadn't gone out yit, but it was so nearly so that it give no smoke. looking around it did not take me long to l'arn that two horses had been there----" "they had three with them, as you told me." "but they have only two now. i wouldn't have been sartin of the matter if i hadn't seen the print of yer mother's small shoe in the snow, and while i was looking i obsarved that of dot, no bigger than cinderella hersilf might have made." warren was profoundly interested, and tears dimmed his eyes. "was there no man with father?" "i couldn't see any footprints except his." "then it has been as you said: plummer was killed by the sioux. but surely you noticed the direction they took?" "i did that same, and was following their trail whin i cotched sight of yersilf among the trees, and coom nigh shooting ye before asking for an inthrodooction." "then they have passed nigh this spot?" asked the startled son. tim partly turned and pointed behind him. "right beyant is the thracks made by thimsilves and their animals, for the ground won't admit of their riding." "i wish it were otherwise," remarked warren thoughtfully, "for i have had the hope that they might be so near the fort as to be safe. they are not, but we ought to join them quite soon. but, tim," added his friend, as if alarmed by a new fear, "the sioux must have learned of your flight long ago, and are now on your trail." "i must say that i'm forced to agree wid ye," was the reply of the irishman, spoken as though the question was of trifling import. "it won't do for us to stay here. they are liable to appear at any moment," and the alarmed youth glanced apprehensively around, as if he expected to see the whole party of hostiles burst through upon them. "jack is strong enough to carry us a long way," he added, "and since he is close at hand i can lead him out on the open plain, where we shall gain such a good start that there will be little chance of their overtaking us." "no doubt ye are corrict." "then let's do it without throwing away another moment." he turned hurriedly to carry out his own purpose, when his comrade laid his hand on his arm and detained him. "i think, warry," he said, in a low voice, "that ye've forgot one matter--yer fayther, mither, and dot." "gracious! how came i to do that? here i set out to hunt for them, and when they were as good as found i turn my back upon them, and think only of my own safety." "ye are excoosable, since ye have been upsit by the thrifling occurrences that have been going on this day." "take me to the spot where you left their trail," added warren, with unusual excitement, "and we'll never leave it until we join them; we shall escape or die together." the youths moved like those who knew that the question of life and death must be settled within a few minutes. chapter xxxi. the last hope. the young ranchers had to go but a short distance, when they struck the trail left by their friends. the snow rendered it so distinct that the first glance told the story. warren saw the track made by the feet of his father, mother, and little dot. the consciousness that he was so near them profoundly affected the son. "there are several strange things about this," he remarked to tim, halting for a minute before taking up the search in earnest; "we found it almost impossible for a horse to clamber up the ridge, and yet their two ponies have been to the very crest." "that's because they found an easy way to do it from the ither side," was the sensible comment of tim brophy. "of course, but father is away off the track. more than half a day has passed since he left home, and he is hardly a quarter of the way to fort meade." "he is just as near as we are, and he didn't start any sooner," was the significant remark of tim brophy. "but that was his destination when he set out, while our business has been to find him." "with no moon or stars to guide him last night, what means had he of keeping to the right coorse?" the question gave its own answer. the cause of this wandering was so self-evident that warren starr would not have asked it had he not been in such a state of mental agitation as a person feels when certain he is on the eve of some critical event. reasoning with something like his usual coolness, the young rancher thought he saw the explanation of other matters which had puzzled him, but he bestowed little thought upon them, for his whole ambition for the time was to reach his parents. the trail which they were following led toward the open prairie, left by warren but a short time before. it was evident that mr. starr was making for that, for their animals could not serve them so long as they continued in this rough section. "if i had been a little later," reflected the son, "i would have met them. that i did not proves that they cannot be far off." he was tempted to call or whistle, but that would have been rash, for if there was any one point on which he was certain, it was that the hostiles were hot on the trail of tim brophy. the real peril was from that direction, and several times he reminded the irishman of the fact, though he needed not the warnings. a short distance farther and both stopped with an exclamation of dismay. the report of a weapon sounded from a point only a little way ahead. "that was not a rifle," said warren, turning his white face on his companion; "it was a pistol." "ye are corrict." "and it was fired by father." "i'm sure ye are right." "they have been attacked! come on! they need our help!" the youth dashed ahead, clambering over bowlders, darting around rocks, ducking his head to avoid the limbs, stumbling, but instantly regaining his feet, only intent on getting forward with the utmost possible speed. his companion found it hard work to keep up with him, but fortunately they had not far to run. without the least warning of what was coming warren starr burst upon his astonished parents and little dot, the rush being so impetuous that the rancher had his winchester half raised to fire before he understood. at the feet of mr. starr lay the mare dead, killed by her master. while struggling over the rugged places she had slipped and broken her leg. the rancher mercifully put her out of her misery by placing the muzzle of his revolver to her forehead and sending a bullet through her brain. mrs. starr and dot had turned away that they might not witness the painful sight, for they loved the creature. the arrival of the youths caused the mother to face quickly about, and the next moment she and her son were clasped in each other's arms, with dot tugging at the coat of her big brother. "warren, warren, i guess you forgot me," she pleaded, when she thought the embrace had lasted long enough. "forget you, my darling!" he repeated, catching her up and hugging the breath from her body; "never! we are together again, and only death shall separate us." the rancher had shaken the hand of tim brophy during this little by-play, and they exchanged a few words before father and son closed palms. then the questions and answers came fast. tim brophy drew a little aside to where mother and child stood, and holding the tiny hand of dot explained matters, while warren did the same with his father. "did you see us approaching when you started the fire?" asked warren, after hurriedly telling his own story. "no, but i was quite sure, when your mother and i came to talk it over, that you would disregard my wishes about hurrying to the fort. we went astray in the darkness, and after a number of narrow escapes, as i have just related, found ourselves at the base of this ridge on the other side." "did you recognize where you were?" "no; the points of the compass were all askew, and to save my life i couldn't get my bearings. but i was convinced that you were at no great distance, and decided to try the signal which plummer and i had used before. poor plummer!" "do you know anything about him?" mr. starr related what he had discovered, adding that the body was shockingly mutilated and stripped of its belongings. "the ascent of the ridge on the other side was quite easy, and we found no difficulty in leading the horses to the crest. there the fire was kindled. knowing of the long stretch of level ground on this side, we set out without waiting to learn the result of the signal smoke. i knew that if you made your way to the spot where it was burning you would understand the situation, and the snow would show you how to follow us as fast as you desired." "did you hear or see nothing of the indians?" "we saw nothing of them, and were confident that the party with whom we had repeated encounters were thrown so far behind that we had good reason to believe they need be feared no longer. but all our hopes were scattered when we heard firing from the direction of the open plain. while fleeing from one party of hostiles we had almost run into another. i confess," added the father, "that for a minute i was in despair. your mother, however, retained her courage, as she has from the first. she urged me to make for the level country, aiming for a point so far removed from the sounds of the guns that we would not be seen, unless some ill fortune overtook us. my haste in striving to do so caused the mare to fall and break her leg. i could not bear the sight of her suffering, and though i knew the danger of the act, i put her out of her misery with a pistol-ball through her brain." "you little dreamed that tim and i had a part in the firing of those guns which so alarmed you." "no; it did not occur to me; but we must not make the mistake of supposing we are yet out of danger." the experiences that had been hastily exchanged awakened the ranchers to the fact that they were still in imminent peril, for the sioux were certain to follow tim brophy vigorously, and at that moment could not be far off. mr. starr beckoned to his wife and tim to approach. "you understand matters," he said, "and the question is, what is best to do?" "why not continue our flight?" asked the wife. "i would not hesitate a second were we not so fearfully handicapped. there are four of us, not counting dot, and we have but two animals, provided warren's pony can be found, which i very much doubt. true, we men can walk or take turns in riding, but if we continue our flight, speed is indispensable, and we would make a sorry show in our crippled condition. we would be absolutely helpless on the open prairie against the sioux, all of whom, warren tells me, have excellent horses." the rancher had a scheme in his mind, but before making it known he wished the views of the others. "it's mesilf that thinks this," said tim brophy; "let us go wid yees to the ridge of the prairie, and there mount mr. starr on jack, while mrs. starr and dot can take the ither. thin, what is to hinder yees from going like a house afire for the foort?" "but what of you and warren?" was the natural question of the rancher. "we'll cover yer retr'at." "the proposal does more credit to your heart than your head, but i cannot entertain it." "nor will i listen to anything which compels us to separate again," added the son decisively. "i do not believe you can reach fort meade without another fight, and the absence of tim and me would destroy hope from the first." "but my idea," persisted the irishman, "was to keep the fight away from the folks and have all the fun oursilves." "that would do if it were possible to arrange the business that way," said warren, "but the sioux are the ones who have the decision in their hands, and while we were doing our best others would slip off and attack father and mother. if we remain together it must be otherwise. if there ever was a situation where union is strength this is one of them." "i've exhausted me resoorces," said tim, withdrawing a step, as though he had nothing more to say. leaving the others to decide, he took warren's winchester from his unresisting hand, and began watching for the approach of the sioux, who he was certain were following the trail through the snow. one fact was apparent to him, and he considered it no unimportant advantage. the pursuers would advance at a speed that must bring them into sight before they could surprise the fugitives. a glance around showed that the rancher could not have selected a better place for defence. the bowlders were on all sides, there being a natural amphitheatre several rods in extent. kneeling behind these the whites had a secure protection against their enemies, unless they should make an overwhelming rush--a course of action which is never popular with the american indian, inasmuch as it involves much personal risk to the assailants. it was at his suggestion that the others seated themselves on the ground while holding their conference. when the sioux should appear it would be on the trail made by the party, so that the irishman knew where to look for them. he, too, crouched down, with the muzzle of the winchester pointed between two of the bowlders, ready to fire on the first glimpse of a target. even the pony was forced to lie down near the lifeless body of his comrade. so it was that anyone might have passed near the irregular circle of bowlders without a suspicion of who were within it. "i have but the one proposition to make," said warren, seeing that his father was waiting for him to speak, "and that is to stay here and fight it out. we are strong enough to hold the sioux at bay for a good while, perhaps long enough to discourage them." "and what have you to say, molly?" "i cannot feel as hopeful as warren, but it really seems to me that that is the only recourse left to us." "i do not agree with either of you," remarked the rancher, feeling that the time had come to announce his decision. "i formed my plan some minutes ago. it is the only one that offers the slightest hope, and i shall insist on its fulfilment to the letter. it is that warren shall leave at once, find his pony if he can, mount him, and ride with all haste to the fort for assistance. tim will stay behind with us to help fight. the time for discussion is past; we must act. warren, make ready to leave this minute." chapter xxxii. away! away! when george starr announced his decision to any member of his family no one presumed to question it. had the son been disposed to do so in this instance he would have refrained, for he believed, with his parent, that he had made known their last and only hope. "i will go, father!" he was in the act of rising to his feet, when tim brophy discharged his rifle. "i plugged him," was his comment, as he peered through between the bowlders; "the spalpeen wasn't ixpicting the same, but that one won't bother us any more." being in the act of rising at this moment, warren shrank back again, undecided for the moment what to do, but hesitation was fatal, as his father saw. "go," he said; "don't lose an instant; they are not on that side; you can slip off without being seen." the youth saw the force of the words. crouching as low as possible, with the sioux rifle in his hand, he passed between the bowlders opposite to the point at which tim had fired, and which, therefore, was in the direction of the open prairie. the move was one of those in which success depends wholly upon promptness. the sioux would speedily dispose themselves so as to prevent anyone leaving, as soon as they found that the parties whom they were seeking were at bay among the bowlders. fortunate, therefore, was it that no delay took place in the flight of young starr, even though, when he started, the enemy was at the gate. it required no very skilful woodcraft for him to get away, since it was not anticipated by the sioux, and he had the best means for concealing himself. there had been one idea in the mind of the rancher, which he would have carried out but for the sudden appearance of the indians; that was for his son to take the remaining pony with him. the fugitives could make no use of him, and should it prove that jack was gone, his owner would not be without the means of pushing to fort meade for help. circumstances, however, prevented that precaution. it never would have done to attempt to take the remaining pony. warren quickly vanished among the trees and bowlders, and the rubicon was crossed. but jack was found just where he had been left, patiently awaiting the return of his master. the pursuit of tim brophy by the sioux had led them in a different direction, though, had the flight of warren been postponed for a short time, the steed must have fallen into the hands of the enemy. the heart of the youth gave a bound of delight when he came upon the animal. "follow me, jack," he said cheerily; "if you ever did your best, now is the time. the lives of us all depend upon you. have a care, my boy, or you will slip." in his eagerness the youth descended the slope faster than was prudent. jack did slip, but quickly recovered himself, and no harm seemed to have been done. it was but a short way to the edge of the prairie, where the pause was long enough to see that the trappings were right, when the young rancher swung himself into the saddle, twitched the rein, and said: "come!" the gallant fellow, with a sniff of delight, sprang away, and sped with a swiftness which few of his kind could surpass. the snowy plain stretched in front, and he darted over it as though his hoofs scorned the earth. the still air became a gale, which whistled about the ears of the youth, who felt the thrill that comes to one when coursing on the back of a noble horse to whom the rapid flight is as pleasant as to the rider. it was now near meridian. a long distance remained to be passed, and since a goodly portion of it was rough and precipitous, the young rancher felt little hope of reaching fort meade before nightfall. "if we could have such travelling as this," he reflected, "we would be there in a few hours, but there are places where you will have to walk, and others where it will be hard work to travel at all." it was a discomforting thought, but it was the fact; since the youth was not following the regular trail leading from the ranch to the fort at the foot of the black hills. but his familiarity with the country and the daylight ensured him against going astray; he was certain to do the best possible thing under the circumstances. two miles had been passed at this brilliant pace, and warren was as hopeful as ever, when he became aware of an alarming truth, and one which caused a feeling of consternation--jack was falling lame. that slip made in descending the lower part of the ridge, just before his owner mounted him, was more serious than he had suspected. it had injured the ankle of the horse so that, despite the gallantry with which he struggled, it not only troubled him, but with every leap he made over the plain it grew worse. it was a condition of things enough to cause consternation on the part of the rider, for it put an end to his hope of reaching the fort that day. true, he could continue the advance on foot, but, doing his utmost, he could not arrive before late at night--so late, indeed, that no help would be sent out before the morning, and they could not reach the beleaguered fugitives until late on the following day. "can they hold out until then?" that was the question which was ever in the young rancher's mind and which he dare not answer as he believed the probabilities required. there was no getting away from the fearful truth. the vigilance of his father and tim might enable them to stand off the sioux as long as daylight lasted. each had an excellent magazine rifle, for it will be remembered that he had exchanged weapons with his young friend, but there was not only a formidable party of bucks surrounding them, shutting off all possibility of their slipping off during the darkness, but other sioux were in the neighborhood who could be readily summoned to the spot. darkness is the favorite time with the red men when moving against an enemy, and they would probably make no determined demonstration until the night was well advanced. then, when they should rush over the bowlders, nothing could save the fugitives. should this emergency arise, warren starr felt that everything was lost, and he was right. he weakly hoped that jack would recover from his lameness, but all know how vain is such an expectation. the injury rapidly grew worse, so that when the animal dropped his gait to a trot and then to a walk, warren had not the heart to urge him farther. slipping from the saddle he examined the hurt. it was near the fetlock of the left hind leg. the skin was abraded; the ankle evidently had been wrenched. it was swollen, and when the youth passed his hand gently over it, the start and shrinking of the creature showed that it was excessively painful to him. "it's no use, jack," said the lad; "i know you would give your life for me, but you can't travel on three legs, and i'm not going to make you suffer when it can do us no good." manifestly there was but one course open--that was to abandon the pony and press on as fast as he could on foot. jack could get along for a day or two, and his master would not forget to look after him on the first opportunity. there was no call to burden himself with the saddle and bridle, but they would prove an incumbrance to the animal if left upon him, and his owner was too considerate to commit the oversight. in riding so fast the young rancher had followed the general course of the ridge, so that on halting he was quite near it. he now turned to his right, calling upon jack to follow. the action of the pony was pitiful. when he bore a part of his weight on the limb, after the brief halt, it had become so painful as to be almost useless. nevertheless he hobbled forward until the foot of the slope was reached. here warren removed the trappings. his blanket being rolled behind the saddle, he spread it over the back of the horse and secured it in place. "it is all i can do for you, jack," he said tenderly, "and it will give you protection against the cold. you will be able to find a few blades of grass here and there where the snow has not covered them, and the buds of the trees will give some help. the snow will prevent your suffering much from want of water. perhaps a good long rest will improve your ankle so that you can use it. if it does," and here the young rancher spoke impressively, as though he expected his steed to understand his words, "i want you to start for the fort; don't forget that!" he touched his lips to the forehead of his faithful ally, who looked after his young master, as he walked away, with an expression almost human in its affection. but there was no help for it, and with a sad heart, but the determination to do his utmost, warren starr resumed his journey toward fort meade. not long after parting with his pony he came upon something which caused him surprise. in the snow directly in front appeared the footprints of a single horse that had passed over the ground on a run, taking the same direction that the youth was following. his experience with horses told the youth at a first glance that the animal was travelling at his utmost speed. the trail swerved inward from the open plain, as though the rider had sought the base of the ridge for his protection. had there been several ponies coursing ahead of him, he would not have found it so hard to understand matters, for he would have concluded that they were an independent party, making all haste to reach some point, but he could not read the meaning of a single warrior speeding in this fashion. "whoever he was he lost no time," mused warren, breaking into a loping trot, for his own haste was great. had he not known that poor jared plummer was no longer among the living, he would have thought it possible that he was making for fort meade. he wondered whether it could not be a white man engaged on a similar errand. the probabilities were against this supposition. he knew of no rancher in the neighborhood of his old home, and it would seem that no white man would ride with such desperation unless pursued by a relentless enemy, and he saw no evidence of such a contest of speed. true, the pursuers might have been farther out on the prairie, but their trail would have joined that of the fugitive ere long, so as to make the line more direct; but though the young rancher trotted a full half mile before checking himself and looking around, he discovered no signs of others. the last advance of warren brought him close to the precipitous section which, knowing well, he had feared would prove too difficult for his pony. raising his eyes to survey it and fix upon the best line to follow, he caught sight of the horseman he had been following. his animal was on a deliberate walk, and coming directly toward him. the youth stopped short. as he did so he perceived that he was an indian warrior. warren brought his rifle round in front, with no intention of running from him or taking advantage of the cover near at hand. the indian raised his hand, and oscillated it as a signal of comity. as he did so the two were so near that the youth perceived that the arm was bandaged. something familiar in the appearance of the horseman struck him at the same moment, and the young rancher lowered his weapon with the exclamation: "starcus!" it was he, and as he rode forward he had a strange story to tell warren starr. chapter xxxiii. bread cast upon the waters. when the sioux who had rushed out on the open plain to the help of the wounded starcus gathered around him they were quick to perceive that his life was due to the mercy of his conqueror, but their hostility toward the latter was not diminished one whit by the discovery; they were as eager for his life as ever, and proved it by firing several shots after him as he rode away. the wounded arm was bandaged in a piece of the lining of warren starr's coat. the crimson stain showed through the cloth, though the flow of blood was checked. sound and unhurt as was starcus in all other respects, he was unable to use the injured limb, and was therefore as useless in any impending hostilities as if out of existence. as the party moved back toward the base of the ridge there was a consultation among them as to what was best to do. starcus expressed a more venomous rancor than ever against the white people, and especially against the one that had brought him low. he regretted that he was to be helpless for weeks to come, with a permanent injury for life. when the leader of the band suggested that he should return to the nearest village and remain until able to take the warpath again, he vehemently opposed it. he was not willing to retire in such a humiliating manner, but the leader insisted, and after sulking a while the "civilized" indian consented. being a capital horseman, he leaped unassisted upon his pony, and unwilling in his anger so much as to bid the warriors good-by, he struck the animal into a swift gallop, heading toward the village, where he was expected to stay until fully recovered. the action of the warrior was singular. after riding some distance he glanced behind him at the ridge he had left. he seemed to be in an irritable mood, for he uttered an impatient exclamation and urged his beast to a faster gait. his wound pained him, but the agitation of his mind and his own stoical nature caused him to pay no heed to it. indeed nothing more could be done for the hurt. when he looked back the second time he had reached a point for which he had been making since his departure. he was out of sight of any of his people who might be watching him. an abrupt change in the course of his pony was instantly made, and he sent him flying at the height of his speed. strange as it may seem, he was aiming for the same point toward which warren starr started some time later. he did not spare his animal. he went like a whirlwind, and as though his life depended upon reaching his destination without delay. warren starr read the trail aright when he interpreted it as meaning that the pony before him was going as fast as he could. starcus was picking his way, still mounted, over the rough section where the youth had expected to meet great difficulty with his animal, when he suddenly discovered that white people were immediately in his front. he drew up, and was in doubt for a minute whether to flee or hold his ground. a squad of cavalry from fort meade confronted him. they numbered nearly twenty, under the command of a young lieutenant, a recent graduate of west point. they were accompanied by a couple of indian scouts familiar with the country. starcus was quick to make a signal of friendship, and then rode forward to meet the soldiers, who had halted upon seeing him. the sioux was well known to the two indians, the officer, and several of the cavalry. they knew he had joined the hostiles, and were therefore suspicious of him. this fact rendered his self-imposed task one of considerable difficulty. but after a while he convinced them of his honesty. the lieutenant had been sent out by the commandant at fort meade to bring in the rancher and his family, their scouts having reported them in imminent danger. starcus explained that the parties for whom they were looking were at no great distance, having left the ranch the night before to hasten to the fort. one of the ranchmen had been killed, and the rest were in great peril. starcus said he had started to ride to the fort for help, and it was most fortunate that he encountered it so near, when the passing moments were beyond importance. the young officer was sagacious. he could have asked some very embarrassing questions relating to the wound of the messenger, but he wisely forbore. it is not best at all times to let a person know how much is plain to you and how much you suspect. evidently starcus was earnest in his desire to befriend the imperilled ones; the fact that he was journeying alone in the direction of the fort constituting the strongest evidence. he explained that the ridge where he believed the whites were doing their best to escape the sioux was much more approachable from the other side. he described the ground minutely, and the two scouts present confirmed the accuracy of his statements. when the lieutenant proposed that starcus should act as their guide the truth could no longer be kept back. he made a clean breast of everything. he had been with the hostiles. he was among the fiercest. he had tried to shoot young starr, who, more fortunate than he, brought him wounded from his horse. when he lay on the ground, at his mercy, the young man rode up, spoke words of kindness, and bandaged his wound. and in doing this the youth proved more of a conqueror than he had done by his excellent marksmanship. he won the heart of the indian, who was now eager to prove his gratitude by any act in his power. he unhesitatingly answered that he would serve as the guide to the cavalry. but once again the officer displayed rare tact. if starcus was sincere in his newly awakened friendship for the whites, it might be in his power to accomplish a great deal of good by going among his people and using persuasion and argument; but if he should appear as an active ally of the whites such power would be gone, and it would be unsafe at any time in the future to trust himself among them. "no," replied the lieutenant; "return to your own people; do what you can to show them the mistake they are making in taking the warpath; you may effect much good. my guides will do as well as you to direct us to the spot where the whites are in urgent need of our help. you say it is not far, and i am hopeful that we shall be in time to save them." accordingly starcus parted from the cavalry, and was on his return to join his people and to attempt to carry out the wise suggestion of the officer, when he encountered the young rancher making all haste on foot to secure the help which was much nearer than he had dared to hope. after exchanging friendly greetings, starcus told the story which the reader has just learned. warren listened with amazement and delight. he had, indeed, heaped coals of fire upon his enemy's head by his forbearance, and the bread cast upon the waters had returned before many days. "you have acted nobly," was the comment of the youth. "can it undo the harm of the last few days?" asked the indian, with a troubled expression. "far more, for i am sure the timely news given to the lieutenant will save my people." "and yet i was their enemy." "and are now their friend. you lost your head in the frenzy that is spreading like a prairie fire among your people; your footsteps were guided by providence, otherwise you would have missed the cavalry; they would have ridden to the ranch, and my folks would have been left as much without their help as though the soldiers had stayed at the fort. besides," added the young rancher, "you can do as the officer suggested--show your own people the right course for them to follow." "i will try," replied starcus firmly; "i cannot understand how it was my senses forsook me, but they have come back, and," he said, with a meaning smile, "i think they will stay." "i am sure of that, and you will do much good." "well, good-by," said starcus, reaching down his unwounded arm. "i hope we shall meet again under pleasanter conditions." warren warmly pressed the hand and stood for a minute gazing after the strange fellow, who rode toward the nearest indian village with the determination to carry out his new intentions. it may as well be said that he honestly did so, and there is little doubt that his work was effective in more than one respect, and did much to ameliorate many phases of the sad incidents that speedily followed. left alone once more, the young rancher stood for some minutes in doubt as to his right course. it was idle to push on to the fort on foot, and he was at much disadvantage, now that he had no animal at command. he decided to follow the cavalry. he had forgotten to ask starcus how far off they were, but judged the distance was not great. the trail of the indian's horse gave him the necessary guidance, and he broke once more into his loping trot, despite the rough nature of the ground. a half-hour sufficed to take him to the scene of meeting, when he turned and began following the footprints of the horses at a faster gait than before. inasmuch as he was now a goodly number of miles from the bowlders where his friends were at bay before the attacking sioux, he hardly expected to reach the place in time to take a hand in the decisive scenes or even to witness them. starcus had left such accurate directions, and the indian guides were so familiar with everything, that little delay was probable. the distant sound of firing spurred him to still greater speed, and he ran so fast and hard that ere long he was compelled to drop to a walk to regain his breath. great as was his hope, he felt much misgiving. the cavalry might arrive in time, but in the flurry sad mishaps were probable. it might be that his father or mother or dot or tim had fallen before the vigilance of the assailants. he could not feel any real happiness until he learned beyond peradventure that all was well. the shot fired by tim brophy the instant he caught sight of the warrior hurrying along the trail, with no thought that he was so close to the whites, was the best thing in every way that could have happened, for it not only wiped out the rash miscreant, but told those immediately behind him that the fugitives were at bay and ready to fight to the bitter end. there was an instant withdrawal beyond reach of the rifles, of whose effectiveness they had received more than one striking example that night. it took a considerable while for the sioux to learn the whole truth. the fugitives had intrenched themselves in what was undoubtedly the most secure position near, and were on the watch. gradually working round so as to enclose them against flight, the trail of the young rancher was discovered. a little investigation made known that he had mounted his pony and started off for assistance. but help was no nearer than fort meade, and, as the indians naturally thought, it could not possibly arrive before the morrow. if this were so, abundant time remained in which to encompass the destruction of the defenders. the sioux decided to maintain watch, but to defer the decisive assault until late at night. and it was this decision that saved the little party. within the following two hours the friendly scouts reported the situation to the lieutenant of cavalry, who began his arrangements for an immediate attack upon the hostiles. the latter, however, were as watchful as their enemies, and were quick to learn their new danger. they withdrew and disappeared after the exchange of a few shots, fired under such circumstances that no harm was done on either side. the rescued whites were conducted to the foot of the ridge on the other side, where they were so disposed among their friends that all were furnished with transportation, and the journey to fort meade was begun, or rather resumed so far as they were concerned. not far away they met the young rancher, breathless and in an agony of distress. his joy may be imagined upon learning the happy truth. all were saved without so much as a hair of their heads being harmed. the next day warren returned for his pony, and found him so much better that he was able to walk with little trouble. the youth was too considerate to ask him to carry any load, and the two made the journey with the rider on foot. and so it came about that providence mercifully extricated our friends from the danger which threatened more than once the ruin of all. the end. among the sioux _a story of the twin cities and the two dakotas_ _by_ the rev. r. j. creswell _author of_ "who slew all these," etc. _introduction by_ the rev. david r. breed, d.d. the university press minneapolis, minn. _our platform_. for indians we want american education, american homes, american rights,--the result of which is american citizenship. and the gospel is the power of god for their salvation! _dedication_. to nellie, (my wife) who, for forty years has been my faithful companion in the toils and triumphs of missionary service for the freedmen of the old southwest and the heroic pioneers of the new northwest, this volume is affectionately inscribed. by the author, r. j. creswell. _introduction_ by the rev. david r. breed, d.d. the sketches which make up this little volume are of absorbing interest, and are prepared by one who is abundantly qualified to do so. mr. creswell has had large personal acquaintance with many of those of whom he writes and has for years been a diligent student of missionary effort among the sioux. his frequent contributions to the periodicals on this subject have received marked attention. several of them he gathers together and reprints in this volume, so that while it is not a consecutive history of the sioux missions it furnishes an admirable survey of the labors of the heroic men and women who have spent their lives in this cause, and furnishes even more interesting reading in their biographies that might have been given upon the other plan. during my own ministry in minnesota, from to , i became very intimate with the great leaders of whom mr. creswell writes. some of them were often in my home, and i, in turn, have visited them. i am familiar with many of the scenes described in this book. i have heard from the missionaries' own lips the stories of their hardships, trials and successes. i have listened to their account of the great massacre, while with the tears flowing down their cheeks they told of the desperate cruelty of the savages, their defeat, their conversion, and their subsequent fidelity to the men and the cause they once opposed. i am grateful to mr. creswell for putting these facts into permanent shape and bespeak for his volume a cordial reception, a wide circulation, and above all, the abundant blessing of god. david r. breed. allegheny, pa., january, . _preface_. this volume is not sent forth as a full history of the sioux missions. that volume has not yet been written, and probably never will be. the pioneer missionaries were too busily engaged in the formation of the dakota dictionary and grammar, in the translation of the bible into that wild, barbaric tongue; in the preparation of hymn books and text books:--in the creation of a literature for the sioux nation, to spend time in ordinary literary work. the present missionaries are overwhelmed with the great work of ingathering and upbuilding that has come to them so rapidly all over the widely extended dakota plains. these sioux missionaries were and are men of deeds rather than of words,--more intent on the _making_ of history than the _recording_ of it. they are the noblest body of men and women that ever yet went forth to do service, for our great king, on american soil. for twenty years it has been the writer's privilege to mingle intimately with these missionaries and with the christian sioux; to sit with them at their great council fires; to talk with them in their teepees; to visit them in their homes; to meet with them in their church courts; to inspect their schools; to worship with them in their churches; and to gather with them on the greensward under the matchless dakota sky and celebrate together with them the sweet, sacramental service of our lord and savior, jesus the christ. he was so filled and impressed by what he there saw and heard, that he felt impelled to impart to others somewhat of the knowledge thus gained; in order that they may be stimulated to a deeper interest in, and devotion to the cause of missions on american soil. in the compilation of this work the author has drawn freely from these publications, viz.: the gospel of the dakotas, mary and i, _by stephen r. riggs, d.d., ll.d._ two volunteer missionaries, _by s. w. pond, jr._ indian boyhood, _by charles eastman_ the past made present, _by rev. william fiske brown_ the word carrier, _by editor a. l. riggs, d.d._ the martyrs of walhalla, _by charlotte o. van cleve_ the long ago, _by charles h. lee_ the dakota mission, _by dr. l. p. williamson and others_ dr. t. s. williamson, _by rev. r. mcquesten_ he makes this general acknowledgment, in lieu of repeated references, which would otherwise be necessary throughout the book. for valuable assistance in its preparation he is very grateful to many missionaries, especially to john p. williamson, d.d., of grenwood, south dakota; a. l. riggs, d.d. of santee, nebraska; samuel w. pond, jr., of minneapolis, and mrs. gideon h. pond, of oak grove, minnesota. all these were sharers in the stirring scenes recorded in these pages. the names dakota and sioux are used as synonyms and the english significance instead of the indian cognomens. may the blessing of him who dwelt in the burning bush, rest upon all these toilers on the prairies of the new northwest. r. j. creswell. minneapolis, minnesota, january, . part i. _contents_ chapter i. the pond brothers.--great revival.--conversions.--galena.--rum-seller decision.--westward.--fort snelling.--man of-the-sky.--log cabin.--dr. williamson.--ripley.--lane seminary.--st. peters church.--dr. riggs.--new england mary.--lac-qui-parle. chapter ii. the lake-that-speaks.--indian church.--adobe edifice.--first school.--mission home.--encouragements.--discouragements.--kaposia.--new treaty.--yellow medicine.--bitter winter.--hazlewood.--traverse des sioux.--robert hopkins.--marriage.--death.--m. n. adams, oak grove.-- j. p. williamson, d.d. chapter iii. isolation.--strenuous life.--formation of dakota language dictionary. --grammar.--literature.--bible translation.--massacre.--fleeing missionaries.--blood.--anglo saxons triumph.--loyal indians.--monument. chapter iv. prisoners in chains.--executions.--pentecost in prison.--three hundred baptisms.--church organized.--sacramental supper.--prison camp.--john p. williamson.--one hundred converts.--davenport.--release.--niobrara. --pilgrim church. chapter v. --iyakaptapte.--council.--discussions.--anniversaries.--sabbath.-- communion.--the native missionary society. chapter vi. --sisseton.--john baptiste renville.--presbytery of dakota. among the sioux. part one. sowing and reaping. [illustration: fort snelling.] they that sow in tears shall reap in joy. he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves. _psalm ._ chapter i. _now appear the flow'rets fair_ _beautiful beyond compare_ _and all nature seems to say,_ "_welcome, welcome, blooming may._" it was . a lovely day--the opening of the merry month of may! the warrior, a mississippi steamer, glided out of fever river, at galena, illinois, and turned its prow up the mississippi. its destination was the mouth of the st. peters--now minnesota river--five hundred miles to the north--the port of entry to the then unknown land of the upper mississippi. the passengers formed a motley group; officers, soldiers, fur-traders, adventurers, and two young men from new england. these latter were two brothers, samuel william and gideon hollister pond, from washington, connecticut. at this time, samuel the elder of the two, was twenty-six years of age and in form, tall and very slender as he continued through life. gideon, the younger and more robust brother was not quite twenty-four, more than six feet in height, strong and active, a specimen of well developed manhood. with their clear blue eyes, and their tall, fully developed forms, they must have attracted marked attention even among that band of brawny frontiersmen. in a gracious revival had occurred in their native village of washington. it was so marked in its character, and permanent in its results, that it formed an epoch in the history of that region and is still spoken of as "the great revival". for months, during the busiest season of the year, crowded sunrise prayer-meetings were held daily and were well attended by an agricultural population, busily engaged every day in the pressing toil of the harvest and the hayfields. scores were converted and enrolled themselves as soldiers of the cross. among these were the two pond brothers. this was, in reality with them, the beginning of a new life. from this point in their lives, the inspiring motive, with both these brothers, was a spirit of intense loyalty to their new master and a burning love for the souls of their fellowmen. picked by the holy spirit out of more than one hundred converts for special service for the lord jesus christ, the pond brothers resolutely determined to choose a field of very hard service, one to which no others desired to go. in the search for such a field, samuel the elder brother, journeyed from new haven to galena, illinois, and spent the autumn and winter of - in his explorations. he visited chicago, then a struggling village of a few hundred inhabitants and other embryo towns and cities. he also saw the winnebago indians and the pottawatomies, but he was not led to choose a field of labor amongst any of these. a strange providence finally pointed the way to mr. pond. in his efforts to reform a rumseller at galena, he gained much information concerning the sioux indians, whose territory the rumseller had traversed on his way from the red river country from which he had come quite recently. he represented the sioux indians as vile, degraded, ignorant, superstitious and wholly given up to evil. "there," said the rumseller, "is a people for whose souls nobody cares. they are utterly destitute of moral and religious teachings. no efforts have ever been made by protestants for their salvation. if you fellows are looking, in earnest, for a _hard job_, there is one ready for you to tackle on those bleak prairies." this man's description of the terrible condition of the sioux indians in those times was fairly accurate. those wild, roving and utterly neglected indians were proper subjects for christian effort and promised to furnish the opportunities for self-denying and self-sacrificing labors for which the brothers were seeking. mr. pond at once recognized this peculiar call as from god. after prayerful deliberation, samuel determined to write to his brother gideon, inviting the latter to join him early the following spring, and undertake with him an independent mission to the sioux. he wrote to gideon:--"i have finally found the field of service for which we have long been seeking. it lies in the regions round about fort snelling. it is among the savage sioux of those far northern plains. they are an ignorant, savage and degraded people. it is said to be a very cold, dreary, storm-swept region. but we are not seeking a soft spot to rest in or easy service. so come on." despite strong, almost bitter opposition from friends and kinsmen, gideon accepted and began his preparations for life among the indians, and in march, , he bade farewell to his friends and kindred and began his journey westward. early in april, he arrived at galena, equipped for their strange, heaven-inspired mission. he found his brother firmly fixed in his resolution to carry out the plans already decided upon. in a few days we find them on the steamer's deck, moving steadily up the mighty father of waters, towards their destination. "this _is_ a serious undertaking," remarked the younger brother as they steamed northward. and such it was. there was in it no element of attractiveness from a human view-point. they expected to go among roving tribes, to have no permanent abiding place and to subsist as those wild and savage tribes subsisted. their plan was a simple and feasible one, as they proved by experience, but one which required large stores of faith and fortitude every step of the way. they knew, also, that outside of a narrow circle of personal friends, none knew anything of this mission to the sioux, or felt the slightest interest in its success or failure. but undismayed they pressed on. the scenery of the upper mississippi is still pleasing to those eyes, which behold it, clothed in its springtime robes of beauty. in , this scenery shone forth in all the primeval glory of "nature unmarred by the hand of man." [illustration: samuel w. pond, years a missionary to the sioux.] [illustration: gideon h. pond, for twenty years missionary to the dakotas.] as the steamer warrior moved steadily on its way up the mississippi, the rich may verdure, through which they passed, appeared strikingly beautiful to the two brothers, who then beheld it for the first time. it was a most delightful journey and ended on the sixth day of may, at the dock at old fort snelling. this was then our extreme outpost of frontier civilization. it had been established in , as our front-guard against the british and indians of the northwest. it was located on the high plateau, lying between the mississippi and the minnesota (st. peters) rivers, and it was then the only important place within the limits of the present state of minnesota. while still on board the warrior, the brothers received a visit and a warm welcome from the rev. william t. boutell, a missionary of the american board to the ojibways at leach lake, minnesota. he was greatly rejoiced to meet "these dear brethren, who, from love to christ and for the poor red man, had come alone to this long-neglected field." a little later they stepped ashore, found themselves in savage environments and face to face with the grave problems they had come so far to solve. they were men extremely well fitted, mentally and physically, naturally and by training for the toils and privations of the life upon which they had now entered. sent, not by man but by the lord; appointed, not by any human authority but by the great jehovah; without salary or any prospects of worldly emoluments, unknown, unheralded, those humble but heroic men began, in dead earnest, their grand life-work. their mission and commission was to conquer that savage tribe of fierce, prairie warriors, by the two-edged sword of the spirit of the living god and to mold them aright, by the power of the gospel of his son. and god was with them as they took up their weapons (not carnal but spiritual) in this glorious warfare. they speedily found favor with the military authorities, and with one of the most prominent chieftains of that time and region--cloudman or man-of-the-sky. the former gave them full authority to prosecute their mission among the indians; the latter cordially invited them to establish their residence at his village on the shore of lake calhoun. the present site of minneapolis was then simply a vast, wind-swept prairie, uninhabited by white men. a single soldier on guard at the old government sawmill at st. anthony falls was the only representative of the anglo-saxons, where now dwell hundreds of thousands of white men of various nationalities. busy, bustling, beautiful minneapolis, with its elegant homes; its commodious churches; its great university--with its four thousand students--; its well-equipped schools--with their forty-two thousand pupils--; its great business blocks; its massive mills; its humming factories; its broad avenues; its pleasant parks; its population of a quarter of a million of souls; all this had not then even been as much as dreamed of. four miles west of st. anthony falls, lies lake calhoun, and a short distance to the south is lake harriet, (two most beautiful sheets of water, both within the present limits of minneapolis). the intervening space was covered by a grove of majestic oaks. here, in , was an indian village of five hundred sioux. their habitations were teepees, made of tamarack bark or of skins of wild beasts. their burial ground covered a part of lovely lakewood, the favorite cemetery of the city of minneapolis. this band recognized cloudman or man-of-the-sky as their chief, whom they both respected and loved. he was then about forty years of age. he was an intelligent man, of an amiable disposition and friendly to the approach of civilization. here, under the auspices of this famous chieftain, they erected for themselves a snug, little home, near the junction of thirty-fifth street and irving avenue south, minneapolis. it was built of large oak logs. the dimensions were twelve feet by sixteen and eight feet high. straight tamarack poles formed the timbers of the roof. the roof itself was the bark of trees, fastened with strings of the inner bark of the basswood. a partition of small logs divided the house into two rooms. the ceiling was of slabs from the old government sawmill at st. anthony falls. the door was made of boards, split from a tree with an axe, and had wooden hinges and fastenings and was locked by pulling in the latch-string. the single window was the gift of the kind-hearted major taliaferro, the united states indian agent at fort snelling. the cash cost of the whole was one shilling, new york currency, for nails, used about the door. the formal opening was the reading of a portion of scripture and prayer. the banquet consisted of mussels from the lake, flour and water. this cabin was the first house erected within the present limits of minneapolis; it was the home of the first citizen settlers of minnesota and was the first house used as a school-room and for divine worship in the state. it was a noble testimony to the faith, zeal and courage of its builders. here these consecrated brothers inaugurated their great work. in it was torn down for materials with which to construct breastworks for the defense of the sioux, after the bloody battle of rum river, against their feudal foes, the ojibways. here amid such lovely natural surroundings were the very beginnings of this mighty enterprise. the first lesson was given early in may, by samuel pond to big thunder chieftain of the kaposia band, whose teepees were scattered over the bluffs, where now stands the city of st. paul. his chief soldier was big iron. his son was little crow, who became famous or rather infamous, as the leader against the whites in the terrible tragedy of ' . later in may the second lesson was taught by gideon pond to members of the lake calhoun band. both lessons were in the useful and civilizing art of plowing and were the first in that grand series of lessons, covering more than seventy years, and by which the sioux nation have been lifted from savagery to civilization. while god was preparing the pond brothers in the hill country of connecticut for their peculiar life-work, and opening up the way for them to engage in it, he also had in training in the school of his providences, in massachusetts and ohio, fitting helpers for them in this great enterprise. in the early 's, at ripley, ohio, dr. thomas s. williamson and mrs. margaret poage williamson, a young husband and wife, were most happily located, in the practice of his profession and in the upbuilding of a happy christian home. to this young couple the future seemed full of promise and permanent prosperity. children were born to them; they were prosperous and an honorable name was being secured through the faithful discharge of the duties of his most noble profession and of christian citizenship. they regarded themselves as happily located for life. the mission call to dr. and mrs. williamson was emphasized by the messenger of death. when the missionary call first came to them, they excused themselves on account of their children. god removed the seeming obstacles, one by one. the little ones were called to the arms of jesus. "a great trial!" a great blessing also. the way was thus cleared from a life of luxury and ease in ohio to one of great denial and self sacrifice on mission fields. the bereaved parents recognized this call as from god, and by faith, both father and mother were enabled to say, "here are we; send us." "this decision," says an intimate friend, "neither of them after for one moment regretted; neither did they doubt that they were called of god to this great work, nor did they fear that their life-work would prove a failure." with characteristic devotion and energy, dr. williamson put aside a lucrative practice, and at once, entered on a course of preparation for his new work for which his previous life and training had already given him great fitness. in , he put himself under the care of the presbytery of chillicothe, removed with his family to walnut hills, cincinnati, and entered lane seminary. while the pond brothers in their log cabin at lake calhoun were studying the sioux language, dr. williamson was completing his theological course on the banks of the beautiful river. he was ordained to the office of the gospel ministry in . and in may, , he landed at fort snelling with another band of missionaries. he was accompanied by his quiet, lovely, faithful wife, margaret, and one child, his wife's sister, sarah poage, afterwards mrs. gideon h. pond, mr. and mrs. alexander g. huggins and two children. mr. huggins came as a teacher and farmer. during a stay of a few weeks here, dr. williamson presided at the organization of the first protestant congregation in minnesota, which was called the presbyterian church of st. peters. it consisted of officers, soldiers, fur-traders, and members of the mission families--twenty-one in all; seven of whom were received on confession of faith. it was organized at fort snelling, june , , and still exists as the first presbyterian church of minneapolis, with more than five hundred members. [illustration: the old fort snelling church developed.] [illustration: at lake minnetonka.] early in july, dr. williamson pushed on in the face of grave difficulties, two hundred miles to the west, to the shores of lac-qui-parle, the lake-that-speaks. here they were cordially welcomed by joseph renville, that famous brois brule trader, the half-breed chief who ruled that region for many years, by force of his superior education and native abilities, and who ever was a strong and faithful friend of the missionaries. he gave them a temporary home and was helpful in many ways. well did the lord repay him for his kindness to his servants. his wife became the first full-blood sioux convert to the christian faith, and his youngest son, john baptiste renville, then a little lad, became the first native presbyterian minister, one of the acknowledged leaders of his people. june, , another pair of noble ones joined the ranks of the workers by the lakeside. these were the rev. stephen return riggs and his sweet new england mary, he was a native of the beautiful valley of the ohio; she was born amid the green hills of massachusetts. his father was a presbyterian elder of steubenville, ohio; her mother was a daughter of new england. she herself was a pupil of the cultured and sainted mary lyon of mount holyoke. they were indeed choice spirits, well-fitted by nature and by training for a place in that heroic band, which god was then gathering together on the shores of lakes calhoun and harriet and lac-qui-parle, for the conquest of the fiercest tribe of prairie warriors that ever roamed over the beautiful plains of the new northwest. he was a scholar and a linguist; courageous, energetic, firm, diplomatic; she was cultured, gentle, tactful, and withal, both were intensely spiritual and deeply devoted to the glorious work of soul-winning. both had been trained as missionaries, with china as a prospective field of service. step by step in the providence of god, they were drawn together as life companions and then turned from the orient to the western plains. during these years of beginnings, dr. williamson formed the acquaintance of stephen r. riggs, then a young man, which culminated in a life-long alliance of love and service. during his seminary course, mr. riggs received a letter from his missionary friend, to which he afterwards referred thus: "it seems to me now, strange that he should have indicated in that letter the possible line of work open to me, which has been so closely followed. i remember especially the prominence he gave to the thought that the bible should be translated into the language of the dakotas. men do sometimes yet write as they were moved by the holy ghost. that letter decided my going westward rather than to china." it was a lovely day, the first of june, when this young bride and groom arrived at fort snelling. though it was their honeymoon, they did not linger long in the romantic haunts of minnehaha and the lakes; but pressed on to lac-qui-parle and joined hands with the toilers there in their mighty work of laying foundations broad and deep in the wilderness, like the coral workers in the ocean depths, out of sight of man. what a glorious trio of mission family bands were then gathered on minnesota's lovely plains, on the shores of those beautiful lakes! pond, williamson, riggs. names that will never be forgotten while a sioux christian exists in earth or glory. [illustration: a park drive, lake calhoun.] [illustration: soldiers' home.] when the american mission hall of fame shall be erected these three names will shine out high upon the dome like "apples of gold in pictures of silver," pond, williamson, riggs. "and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the lord and that thought upon his name. * * * and they shall be mine, saith the lord of hosts, in that day when i make up my jewels." chapter ii. in , within one year from the arrival of dr. williamson and his missionary party at lac-qui-parle, a church was organized, with six native members, which in , consisted of seven dakotas, besides half-breeds and whites, and, within five years, had enrolled forty-nine native communicants. of this congregation alexander g. huggins and joseph renville were the ruling elders. an adobe church edifice was erected in , which for eighteen years met the wants of this people. in its belfry was hung the first church bell that ever rang out over the prairies of minnesota, the sweet call to the worship of the savior of the human race. the services of the church were usually held in the native language. the hymns were sung to french tunes, which were then the most popular. at the beginning, translations from the french of a portion of scripture were read and some explanatory remarks were made by joseph renville. the first school for teaching indians to read and write in the dakota language, was opened in december, , at lac-qui-parle, in a conical dakota tent, twenty feet in height and the same in diameter. at first the men objected to being taught for various frivolous reasons, but they were persuaded to make the effort. the school apparatus was primitive and mainly extemporized on the spot. progress was slow; the attendance small and irregular, but in the course of three months, they were able to write to each other on birch bark. those who learned to read and write the language properly, soon became interested in the gospel. the first five men, who were gathered into the church, were pupils of this first school. of the next twenty, three were pupils and fourteen were the kindred of its pupils. among their descendants were three dakota pastors and many of the most faithful and fruitful communicants. [illustration: minneapolis in .] one large log-house of five rooms, within the renville stockade, furnished a home for the three mission families of dr. williamson, rev. stephen r. riggs and gideon h. pond. one room was both church and school room for years. under this roof the missionaries met frequently for conference, study and translation of the word of god. here, september , , the original dakota presbytery was organized. for several years most of the members of this congregation were women. once in the new and then unfinished church edifice, more than one hundred indian men were gathered. when urged to accept christ and become members of this church, they replied that the church was made up of squaws. did the missionaries suppose the braves would follow the lead of squaws? ugh! ugh!! for the first seven years, at lac-qui-parle, mission work was prosecuted, with marked success in spite of many grave hindrances. but for the four years following-- - --the work was seriously retarded. the crops failed and the savages charged their misfortunes to the missionaries. they became very ugly, and began a series of petty yet bitter persecutions against the christian indians and the missionaries. the children were forbidden to attend school; the women who favored the church had their blankets cut to pieces and were shut away from contact with the mission. the cattle and horses of the mission were killed, and for a season the lord's work was stayed at lac-qui-parle. discouraged, but not dismayed his servants were watchful for other opportunities of helpful service. in , the site of the present, prosperous city of st. paul, was occupied by a few shanties, owned by "certain lewd fellows of the baser sort," sellers of rum to the soldiers and the indians. nearby, scattered over the bluffs, were the teepees of little crow's band, forming the sioux village of kaposia. in , little crow, their belligerent chieftain, was shot by his own brother, in a drunken revel. he survived the wound, but apparently alarmed at the influence of these modern harpies over himself and his people, he visited fort snelling and begged a missionary for his village. the united states agent stationed there forwarded this petition to lac-qui-parle with the suggestion that dr. williamson be transferred to kaposia. the invitation was accepted by the doctor, so in november, , he became a resident of kaposia (now south st. paul). to this new station, he carried the same energy, hopefulness and devotion, he had shown at the beginning. here he remained six years, serving not only the indians of little crow's band, but also doing great good to the white settlers, who were then gathering around the future capital city of minnesota. here in , he organized an indian church of eight members. it increased to fifteen members, in , when the indians were removed. then followed the treaty of , which was of great import, both to the white man and to the red man. by this treaty, the fertile valley of the minnesota was thrown open for settlement to the whites. this took away from the sioux their hunting-grounds, their cranberry marshes, their deer-parks and the graves of their ancestors. so the dakotas of the mississippi and lower minnesota packed up their teepees, their household goods and gods, some in canoes, some on ponies, some on dogs, some on the women, and slowly and sadly took up their line of march towards the setting of the sun. no sooner did the indians move than dr. williamson followed them and established a new station at yellow medicine, on the west bank of the minnesota river and three miles above the mouth of the yellow medicine river. the first winter there, was a fight for life. the house was unfinished; a very severe winter set in unusually early, the snows were deep and the drifts terrible; the supply-teams were snowed in; the horses perished, the provisions were abandoned to the wolves and the drivers reached home in a half-frozen condition. but god cared for his servants. in this emergency, the rev. m. n. adams, of lac-qui-parle, performed a most heroic act. in mid-winter, with the thermometer many degrees below zero, he hauled flour and other provisions for the missionaries, on a hand sled, from lac-qui-parle to yellow medicine, a distance of thirty-two miles. the fish gathered in shoals, an unusual occurrence, near the mission and both the indians and the missionaries lived through that terrible winter. here, an indian church of seventeen members was organized by dr. williamson. it increased to a membership of thirty in the next decade. in march, , the mission houses at lac-qui-parle were destroyed by fire. a consolidation of the mission forces was soon after effected. dr. riggs and other helpers were transferred from lac-qui-parle to a point two miles distant from yellow medicine and called omehoo (hazelwood). a comfortable mission home was erected. the native christians removed from lac-qui-parle and re-established their homes at hazelwood. a boarding school was soon opened at this point by rev. m. n. adams. a neat chapel was also erected. a church of thirty members was organized by mr. riggs. it grew to a membership of forty-five before the massacre. these were mainly from the the lac-qui-parle church which might be called the mother of all the dakota churches. there were now gathered around the mission stations, quite a community of young men, who had to a great extent, become civilized. with civilization came new wants--pantaloons and coats and hats. there was power also in oxen and wagons and brick-houses. the white man's axe and plow and hoe had been introduced and the red man was learning to use them. so the external civilization went on. but the great and prominent force was in the underlying education and especially in the vitalizing and renewing power of christian truth. so far as the inner life was changed, civilized habits became permanent; otherwise they were shadows. evangelization was working out civilization. it is doing its permanently blessed work even yet. about this time occurred the formation of the hazelwood republic. this was a band of indians somewhat advanced in civilization, who were organized chiefly by the efforts of dr. riggs, under a written constitution and by-laws. their officers were a president, secretary and three judges, who were elected by a vote of the membership for a term of two years each. paul maza-koo-ta-mane was the first president and served for two terms. this was an interesting experiment, in the series of efforts, by the missionaries, to change this tribe of nomads from their roving teepee life to that of permanent dwellers in fixed habitations. the rude shock of savage warfare, which soon after revolutionized the whole sioux nation, swept it away before its efficiency could be properly tested. surely it was a novelty--an indian band, regulated by written laws and governed by officers, elected by themselves for a term of years. it now exists only in the memory of the oldest of the tribesmen or the missionaries. in , a new station was established at traverse des sioux (near st. peter, minnesota,) by the rev. stephen r. riggs. this station was doomed to a tragic history. july , , thomas longley, the favorite brother of mrs. mary riggs, was suddenly swallowed up in the treacherous waters of the minnesota and laid to rest under what his sister was wont to call the "oaks of weeping"--three dwarf oaks on a small knoll. in , robert hopkins and his young bride joined the workers here. in , july , mr. hopkins was suddenly swept away to death by the fatal waves of the minnesota and his recovered body was laid to rest under the oaks where thomas longley had slept all alone for seven years. thus the mission at traverse des sioux was closed by the messenger of death. it was continued, however, in the nearby frontier town of st. peter, whose white settlers requested the rev. m. n. adams, one of the missionaries to the sioux, to devote his time to their spiritual needs. he complied and founded a white presbyterian church and it is one of the strong protestant organizations of southern minnesota. in , also the pond brothers established a station at oak grove, twelve miles west of the falls of st. anthony. it was never abandoned. for many years it was the center of beneficent influences to both races for miles around. it developed into the white presbyterian church of oak grove, which still stands as a monument to the many noble qualities of its founder, rev. gideon hollister pond. on the sabbath scores of his descendants worship within its walls. the surrounding community is composed largely of ponds and their kindred. in , a mission was established at red wing by the reverends j. f. aiton and j. w. hancock, and another in , at red wood by rev. john p. williamson. in , a church was organized at red wing with twelve members. this was swept away by the outbreak in . dr. john p. williamson, who was born in , in one of the mission cabins on the shores of lac-qui-parle, who has spent his whole life among the sioux indians, and who with a singleness of purpose, worthy of the apostle paul, has devoted his whole life to their temporal and spiritual uplift, thus vividly sketches missionary life among the sioux in his boyhood days: "my first serious impression of life was that i was living under a great weight of something, and as i began to discern more clearly, i found this weight to be the all-surrounding overwhelming presence of heathenism, and all the instincts of my birth and culture of a christian home set me at antagonism to it at every point. "this feeling of disgust was often accompanied with fear. at times, violence stalked abroad unchallenged and dark lowering faces skulked about. even when we felt no personal danger this incubus of savage life all around weighed on our hearts. thus it was day and night. even those hours of twilight, which brood with sweet influences over so many lives, bore to us, on the evening air, the weird cadences of the heathen dance or the chill thrill of the war-whoop. ours was a serious life. the earnestness of our parents in the pursuit of their work could not fail to impress in some degree the children. the main purpose of christianizing that people was felt in everything. it was like garrison life in time of war. but this seriousness was not ascetical or moroseful. far from it. those missionary heroes were full of gladness. with all the disadvantages of such a childhood was the rich privilege of understanding the meaning of cheerful earnestness in christian life." [illustration: rev. stephen r. riggs, d.d., ll.d., forty-five years a missionary to the dakotas.] chapter iii. thus for more than a quarter of a century, the glorious work of conquering the sioux nation for christ went on. it was pushed vigorously at every mission station from lac-qui-parle to red wing and from kaposia to hazelwood. great progress was made in these years. and such a work! the workers were buried out of sight of their fellow-white men. lac-qui-parle was more remote from boston than manilla is today. it took stephen r. riggs three months to pass with his new england bride from the green hills of her native state to fort snelling. it was a further journey of thirteen days over a trackless trail, through the wilderness, to their mission home on the shores of the lake-that-speaks. even as late as , it required a full month's travel for the first bridal tour of agnes carson johnson as mrs. robert hopkins from the plains of ohio to the prairies of minnesota. it was no pleasure tour in pullman palace cars, on palatial limited trains, swiftly speeding over highly polished rails from the far east to the falls of st. anthony, in those days. it was a weary, weary pilgrimage of weeks by boat and stage, by private conveyance and oft-times on foot. one can make a tour of europe today with greater ease and in less time than those isolated workers at lac-qui-parle could revisit their old homes in ohio and new england. within their reach was no smithy and no mill until they built one; there was no post office within one hundred miles, and all supplies were carried from boston to new orleans by sloops; then by steamboats almost the whole length of the mississippi; then the flatboat-men sweated and swore as they poled them up the minnesota to the nearest landing-place; then they had to be hauled overland one hundred and twenty-five miles. these trips were ever attended with heavy toil, often with great suffering and sometimes with loss of life. small was the support received from the board. the entire income of the mission, including government aid to the schools, was less than one thousand dollars a year. upon this meager sum, three ordained missionaries, two teachers and farmers, and six women, with eight or ten children were maintained. this also, covered travelling expenses, books and printing. the rude and varied dialects of the different bands of the savage sioux had been reduced to a written language. this was truly a giant task. it required men who were fine linguists, very studious, patient, persistent, and capable of utilizing their knowledge under grave difficulties. such _were_ the ponds, dr. williamson, mr. riggs and joseph renville by whom the great task was accomplished. it took months and years of patient, persistent, painstaking efforts; but it was finally accomplished. in , the dakota dictionary and grammar were published by the smithsonian institute at its expense. the dictionary contained sixteen thousand words and received the warm commendation of philologists generally. the language itself is still growing and valuable additions are being made to it year by year. within a few years, a revised and greatly enlarged edition should be, and probably will be published for the benefit of the sioux nation. the word of god too, had been translated into this wild, barbaric tongue. this was in truth a mighty undertaking. it involved on the part of the translators a knowledge of the french, latin, greek, hebrew and sioux tongues and required many years of unremitting toil on the part of those, who wrought out its accomplishment in their humble log cabins on the shores of lakes calhoun and lac-qui-parle, and at kaposia and traverse des sioux, yellow medicine and hazelwood. but it, too, was completed and published in , by the american bible society. hymn-books and textbooks had also been prepared and published in the new language. books like the pilgrims progress had been issued in it--a literature for a great nation had been created. comfortable churches and mission homes had been erected at the various mission stations. out of the eight thousand sioux indians in minnesota, more than one hundred converts had been gathered into the church. the faithful missionaries, who had toiled so long, with but little encouragement, now looked forward hopefully into the future. apparently the time to favor their work had come. but suddenly all their pleasant anticipations vanished--all their high hopes were blasted. it was august , , a lovely sabbath of the lord. it was sacramental sabbath at hazelwood. as their custom was, that congregation of believers and yellow medicine came together to commemorate their lord's death. the house was well-filled and the missionaries have ever remembered that sabbath as one of precious interest, for it was the last time they ever assembled in that beautiful little chapel. a great trial of their faith and patience was before them and they knew it not. but the loving saviour knew that both the missionaries and the native christians required just such a rest with him before the terrible trials came upon them. as the sun sank that day into the bosom of the prairies, a fearful storm of fire and blood burst upon the defenseless settlers and missionaries. like the dread cyclone, it came, unheralded, and like that much-to-be-dreaded monster of the prairies, it left desolation and death in its pathway. the sioux arose against the whites and in their savage wrath swept the prairies of western minnesota as with a besom of destruction. one thousand settlers perished and hundreds of happy homes were made desolate. the churches, school-houses and homes of the missionaries were laid in ashes. however, all the missionaries and their households escaped safely out of this fiery furnace of barbaric fury to st. paul and minneapolis. all else seemed lost beyond the possibility of recovery. in dismay, the missionaries fled from the wreck of their churches and homes. there were forty persons in that band of fugitives, missionaries and their friends, who spent a week of horrors--never-to-be-forgotten--in their passage over the prairies to st. paul and minneapolis. by day they were horrified by the marks of bloody cruelties along their pathway--dead and mangled bodies, wrecked and abandoned homes. at night, they were terrified by the flames of burning homes and fears of the tomahawks and the scalping knives of their cruel foes. the nights were full of fear and dread. every voice was hushed except to give necessary orders; every eye swept the hills and valleys around; every ear was intensely strained to catch the faintest noise, in momentary expectation of the unearthly war-whoop and of seeing dusky forms with gleaming tomahawks uplifted. in the moonlight mirage of the prairies, every taller clump of grass, every blacker hillock grew into a blood thirsty indian, just ready to leap upon them. but, by faith, they were able to sing in holy confidence: "god is our refuge and our strength; in straits a present aid; therefore although the hills remove we will not be afraid." and the god, in whom they trusted, fulfilled his promises to them and brought them all, in safety, to the twin cities. and as they passed the boundary line of safety, every heart joined in the glad-song of praise and thanksgiving, which went up to heaven. "jehovah has triumphed, his people are free," seemed to ring through the air. little crow, the chieftain of the kaposia band was the acknowledged leader of the indian forces in this uprising. he was forty years of age, possessed of considerable military ability; wise in council and brave on the field of battle. he had wrought, in secret, with his fellow-tribesmen, until he had succeeded in the formation of the greatest combination of the indians against the whites since the days of tecumseh and the prophet in the ohio country, fifty years before. he had under his control a large force of indian warriors armed with winchesters; and on the morning of the battle, he mustered on the hills around new ulm, the largest body of indian cavalry ever gathered together in america. [illustration: minnehaha falls.] [illustration: perils by the heathen missionaries fleeing from indian massacre in . thursday morning of that terrible week, after an all-night's rain, found them all cold, wet through and utterly destitute of cooked food and fuel. that noon they came to a clump of trees and camped down on the wet prairies for the rest of the day. they killed a stray cow and made some bread out of flour, salt and water. an artist, one of the company, took the pictures here given.] the whites arose in their might and, under the leadership of that gallant general, henry h. sibley, gave battle to their savage foes. then followed weeks of fierce and bloody warfare. it was no child's play. on the one side were arrayed the fierce warriors of the sioux nation, fighting for their ancestral homes, their ancient hunting grounds, their deer-parks and the graves of their ancestors. "we _must_ drive the white man east of the mississippi," was the declaration of little crow, and he added the savage boast; "we will establish our winter-quarters in st. paul and minneapolis." over against them, were the brave pioneers of minnesota, battling for the existence of their beloved state, for their homes, and for the lives and honor of their wives and daughters. the thrilling history of the siege of new ulm, of the battle of birch coullie, of fort ridgely and fort abercrombie, and of other scenes of conflict is written in the mingled blood of the white man, and of the red man on the beautiful plains of western minnesota. the inevitable result ensued. the sioux were defeated, large numbers were slain in battle or captured, and in despair, the others fled to the then uninhabited regions beyond the red river of the north. many of these found refuge under the british flag in prince rupert's land (now manitoba). one of the redeeming features in this terrible tragedy of ' , was the unflinching loyalty of the christian sioux to the cause of peace. they stood firmly together against the war-party and for the whites. they abandoned their homes and pitched their teepees closely together. this became the rallying point for all who were opposed to the outbreak. they called it camp hope, which was changed after the flight of little crow's savage band to camp lookout. two days later, when general sibley's victorious troops arrived, it was named camp release. then it was that the captives, more than three hundred in number were released, chiefly through the efforts of the christianized indians. in , at the celebration of the fortieth anniversary of the battle of new ulm, by invitation of the citizens, a band of sioux indians pitched their teepees in the public square and participated in the exercises of the occasion. this was a striking illustration of the amity now existing between the two races upon the very ground, where their immediate ancestors so eagerly sought each other's life-blood, in the recent past. here on the morn of battle, on the surrounding hills, in the long ago, little crow had marshalled his fierce warriors, who rushed eagerly in savage glee, again and again, to the determined assault, only to be driven back, by the brave anglo-saxon defenders. tablets, scattered here and there over the plains, in the valley of the minnesota river, tell the story of the sioux nation, in the new northwest. john baptiste renville, a licentiate of the presbyterian church, and who later was a famous preacher of great power among his own people, remained inside of the indian lines, and was a powerful factor in causing the counter revolution which hastened the overthrow of the rebellion, and the deliverance of the white captives. elder peter big fire turned the war party from the trail of the fleeing missionaries and their friends, thus saving two-score lives. one indian alone, john other-day, saved the lives of sixty-two whites. one elder of the church, simon anakwangnanne, restored a captive white woman and three children. and still another, paul mintakutemanne, rescued a white woman and several children and a whole family of half-breeds. these truly "good indians" saved the lives of more than their own number of whites,--probably two hundred souls in all. in token of her appreciation of these invaluable services, minnesota has caused a monument to be erected in honor of these real braves, on the very plains, then swept by the sioux with fire and blood, in their savage wrath. it is located on the battlefield of birch coullie, near morton in renville county. the cenotaph is built entirely of native stone of different varieties. it rises to the height of fifty-eight feet above the beautiful prairies by which it is surrounded. it bears this appropriate inscription humanity. erected a.d. , by the minnesota valley historical society to commemorate the brave, faithful and humane conduct of the loyal indians who saved the lives of white people and were true to their obligations throughout the sioux war in minnesota in , and especially to honor the services of those here named: other day--ampatutoricna. paul--mintakutemanne. lorenzo lawrence--towanctaton. simon--anakwangnanne. mary crooks--mankahta heita-win. chapter iv. "who are these that fly as a cloud, and as the doves to their windows?"--_isaiah : ._ but now occurred the strangest phase of this wondrously strange story. in november, , four hundred defeated indian warriors, many of them leaders of their people, were confined in prison-pens at mankato, minnesota. while free on the prairies, these wild warriors had bitterly hated the missionaries with all the intensity of their savage natures. they had vigorously opposed every effort of the missionaries in their behalf. they had scornfully rejected the invitations of the gospel. but now in their claims, they earnestly desired to hear the glad tidings they had formerly scorned. they sent for the missionaries to visit them in prison and the missionaries responded with eager joy. and the holy spirit accompanied them. thirty-eight of the prisoners were under the death-sentence and were executed in december. "i remember," said dr. williamson, "feeling a great desire to preach to them, mingled with a kind of terror partly from a sense of grave responsibility in speaking to so many whose probation was so nearly closed, and partly from a sense of fear of hearing them say to me "go home; when we were free we would not hear you preach to us; why do you come here to torment us when we are in chains and cannot go away." it was a great relief to find them listening intently to all i had to say." the prisoners were supplied with bibles and other books, and for a time, the prison became a school. they were all eager to learn. the more their minds were directed to god and his word, the more they became interested in secular studies. very soon the indians of their own accord began holding meetings every morning and evening in which they sang and spoke and prayed. in a short time, there were ninety converts that would lead in public prayer. of those who were executed, thirty were baptized. standing in a foot of snow, manacled two and two, they frequently gathered to sing and pray and listen to the words of eternal life. of this work, the rev. gideon h. pond wrote at the time; "there is a degree of religious interest manifested by them, which is incredible. they huddle themselves together every morning and evening, read the scriptures, sing hymns, confess one to another and pray together. they declare they have left their superstitions forever, and that they do and will embrace the religion of jesus." in march, mr. pond visited mankato again and spent two sabbaths with the men in prison, establishing them in their new faith. before his departure, he administered the lord's supper, to these new converts. and again the mankato prison-pens witnessed a strange and wondrous scene. three hundred embittered, defeated indian warriors, manacled, fettered with balls and chains,--but clothed and in their right minds,--were sitting in groups upon the wintry grounds reverently observing the lord's supper. elders robert hopkins, peter big-fire and david grey cloud officiated with reverence and dignity. the whole movement was marvelous! it was like a "nation born in a day." and after many years of severe testing, all who know the facts, testify that it was a genuine work of god's holy spirit. the massacre and the subsequent events destroyed the power of the priests of devils, which had previously ruled and ruined these wretches' tribes. they themselves, exploded the dynamite under the throne of paganism and shattered it to fragments forever. in , these indians were transferred to davenport, iowa, where they were confined in prison for three years. in they were released by the government and returned to their native prairies, where they then became the nuclei of other churches, other sabbath schools and other church organizations; and so these formerly savage sioux became a benediction rather than a terror to their neighbors on the plains of the dakotas. the church of the prison-pen became the prolific mother of churches. while these events were transpiring in the prison-pen at mankato, a similar work of grace was also in progress in the prison camp at fort snelling, where fifteen hundred men, women and children, mainly the families of the mankato prisoners, were confined under guard. the conditions, in both places, were very similar. in the camp as well as in the prison, they were in grave troubles and great anxieties. in their distresses they called mightily upon the lord. here john, the beloved (john p. williamson d.d.) ministered to their temporal and spiritual wants. the lord heard and answered their burning and agonizing cries. by gradual steps, but with overwhelming power came the heavenly visitation. many were convicted; confessions and professions were made; idols reverenced for many generations were thrown away by the score. more than one hundred and twenty were baptized and organized into a presbyterian church, which, after years of bitter wandering, was united with the church of the prison pen and formed the large congregation of the pilgrim church. thus all that winter long, ' - , there was in progress within the rude walls of those terrible prison-pens at mankato, one of the most wonderful revivals since the day of pentecost. and in february, ' , dr. williamson and rev. gideon h. pond spent a week in special services amongst them. the most careful examinations possible were made into their individual spiritual condition and the most faithful instruction given them as to their christian duties; then those indian warriors were all baptized, received into the communion of the church and organized into a presbyterian church within the walls of the stockade; _three hundred in a day_! truly impressive was the baptismal scene. the conditions of baptism were made very plain to the prisoners and it was offered to only such as were willing to comply fully with those conditions. all were forbidden to receive the rite, who did not do it heartily to the god of heaven, whose eye penetrated each of their hearts. all, by an apparently hearty response, indicated their desire to receive the rite on the proffered conditions. as soon as the arrangements were completed, they came forward one by one, as their names were called and were baptized into the name of the father, son and holy spirit, while each subject stood with the right hand raised and head bowed and many of them with their eyes closed with an appearance of profound reverence. as each came forward to be baptized one of the ministers addressed to him in a low voice a few appropriate words. this was the substance of these personal addresses. "my brother, this is a mark of god, which is placed upon you. you will carry it with you while you live. it introduces you into the great family of god who looks down from heaven, not upon your head but into your heart. this ends your superstition, and from this time you are to call god your father. remember to honor him. be resolved to do his will." each one responded heartily, "yes, i will." gideon h. pond then addressed them collectively. "hitherto i have addressed you as friends; now i call you brethren. for years we have contended together on this subject of religion; now our contentions cease. we have one father, we are one family. i shall soon leave you and shall probably see your faces no more in this world. your adherence to the medicine sack and the natawe (consecrated war weapons) have brought you to your ruin. the lord jesus christ can save you. seek him with all your heart. he looks not upon your heads nor on your lips but into your bosoms. brothers, i will make use of a term of brotherly salutation, to which you have been accustomed to your medicine dances and say to you: "'brethren i spread my hands over you and bless you.'"" three hundred voices responded heartily, "'amen, yea and amen.'" chapter v. it was . fifty years since the coming of the pond brothers to fort snelling--twenty-one years since the organization of the church in the prison-pen at mankato. one bright september day, from the heights of sisseton, south dakota, a strangely beautiful scene was spread out before the eye. in the distance the waters of lake traverse (source of the red river of the north), and big stone lake (head waters of the minnesota), glistened in the bright sunshine, their waters almost commingling ere they began their diverse journeyings--the former to hudson's bay, the latter to the gulf of mexico. at our feet were prairies rich as the garden of the lord. the spot was iyakaptapte, that is the ascension. half-way up was a large wooden building, nestling in a grassy cove. round about on the hillsides were white teepees. dusky forms were passing to and fro and pressing round the doors and windows. we descended and found ourselves in the midst of a throng of sioux indians. instinctively we asked ourselves, why are they here? is this one of their old pagan festivals? or is it a council of war? we entered. the spacious house was densely packed; we pressed our way to the front. hark! they are singing. we could not understand the words, but the air was familiar. it was bishop heber's hymn (in the indian tongue): "from greenlands icy mountains, from india's coral strand. * * * salvation! o salvation! the joyful sound proclaim, till each remotest nation has learned messiah's name. waft, waft, ye winds, his story, and you, ye waters, roll, till like a sea of glory it spreads from pole to pole." with what joyful emphasis, this strange congregation sang these words. we breathed easier. this was no pagan festival, no savage council of war. it was the fifteenth grand annual council of the dakota christian indians of the northwest. the singing was no weaklunged performance--not altogether harmonious, but vastly sweeter than a war-whoop; certainly hearty and sincere and doubtless an acceptable offering of praise. the rev. john baptiste renville was the preacher. his theme was ezekiel's vision of the valley of dry bones. we did not knew how he handled his subject. but the ready utterance, the sweet flow of words, the simple earnestness of the speaker and the fixed attention of the audience marked it as a complete success. when the sermon was finished, there was another loud-voiced hymn and then the council of days was declared duly opened. thus they gather themselves together, year by year to take counsel in reference to the things of the kingdom. the indian moderator, artemas ehnamane, the santee pastor, was a famous paddle-man, a mighty hunter and the son of a great conjuror and war-prophet, but withal a tender, faithful, spiritual pastor of his people. rev. alfred l. riggs, d.d., the white moderator, who talked so glibly alternately in sioux and english and smiled so sweetly in both languages at once, was "good bird," one of the first white babes born at lac-qui-parle. john, the beloved, one of the chief white workers, as a boy had the site of minneapolis and st. paul for a play-ground, and the little indian lads for his playmates. that week we spent at iyakaptapte was a series of rich, rare treats. we listened to the theological class of young men, students of santee and sisseton. we watched the smiling faces of the women as they bowed in prayer, and brought their offerings to the missionary meetings. such wondrous liberality those dark-faced sisters displayed. we marked with wonder the intense interest manifested hour by hour by all classes in the sermons, addresses, and especially in the discussion: "how shall we build up the church?" elder david grey cloud said, "we must care for the church if we would make it effective. we must care for all we gather into the church." the rev. james red-wing added, "the work of the church is heavy. when a red river cart sticks in the mud we call all the help we can and together we lift it out; we must all lift the heavy load of the church." the rev. david grey cloud closed with: "we must cast out all enmity, have love for one another and then we shall be strong." "does the keeping of dakota customs benefit or injure the dakota people?" deacon boy-that-walks-on-the-water responded emphatically. "the ancient dakota customs are all bad. there is no good in them. they are all sin, all sorrow. all medicine men are frauds. jesus is the only one to hold to." rev. little-iron-thunder said "when i was a boy i was taught the sacred dances and all the mysteries; to shoot with the bag; to hold the sacred shell. to gain a name, the dakotas will suffer hunger, cold, even death. but all this is a cheat. it will not give life to the people. only one name will give life,--even jesus." rev. daniel renville declared: "faith is the thing our people need; not faith in everything, but faith in christ; not for hope of reward." there were evening gatherings in the interest of the young men's christian associations and the young people's christian endeavor societies. these are two of the most hopeful features of the work. with the young men and maidens of the tribe in careful training in christian knowledge and for christian service, there must be far-reaching and permanent beneficent results. sabbath came! a glorious day! a fitting crown of glory for a week of such rare surprises. a strange chanting voice, like that of a herald mingled with our day-break dreams. had we been among the moslems, we should have thought it the muezzin's cry. it was all indian to us, but it was indeed a call to prayer with this translation in english:-- "morning is coming! morning is coming! wake up! wake up! come to sing! come to pray." very soon, the sweet music of prayer and praise from the white teepees on the hillside, rose sweetly on the air, telling us that the day of their glad solemnities had begun. the great congregation assembled in the open air. pastor renville, who as a little lad played at the feet of the translators of the bible into the sioux language, and who as a young man organized a counter revolution among the christian indians in favor of the government in the terrible days of ' , presided with dignity, baptizing a little babe and receiving several recent converts into the church. a man of rare powers and sweet temperament is the rev. john baptiste renville, youngest son of the famous joseph renville. a wonderfully strange gathering is this. hundreds of indians seated in semi-circles on the grass, reverently observing the lord's supper. probably one-third of the males in that assemblage were participants in the bloody wars of the sioux nation. the sermon was delivered by solomon his-own-grandfather, who had taken an active part in the war of , but was now a missionary among his own people in manitoba. the bread was broken by artemas ehnamane ("walking along"), who was condemned and pardoned, and then converted after that appalling tragedy in . the wine was poured by the man whom all the sioux lovingly call john (dr. john p. williamson) who led them in the burning revival scenes in the prison-camp at fort snelling in . and as he referred to those thrilling times, their tears flowed like rain. it is said that indians cannot weep, but scores of them wept that day at ascension. one of the officiating elders was a son of the notorious chieftain little crow, who was so prominent against the anglo-saxons in those days of carnage. as we partook of those visible symbols of our saviour's broken body, and shed blood, with this peculiar congregation, so recently accustomed to the war-whoop and the scalp-dance, we freely mingled our tears with theirs. and as our minds ranged over the vast dakota field and as we remembered the thousands of christian sioux, their presbytery and their association, their scores of churches and their many sabbath schools, their y.m.c.a. and their y.p.s.c.e. associations, their missionary societies and other beneficent organizations, their farms and homes, their present pure, happy condition, and contrasted it with their former superstition, nakedness and filthy teepee life, we sang joyfully; behold! what wondrous works have, by the lord, been wrought; behold! what precious souls have, by his blood, been bought. as the shades of evening drew on, the different bands held their farewell meetings in their teepees. there were sounds of sweet music--joyous ones--echoing and re-echoing over the prairies--"he leadeth me, oh precious thought," "nearer, my god to thee," "blessed assurance, jesus hath given"--until the whole was blended in one grand refrain:-- "blest be the tie that binds our hearts in christian love; the fellowship of christian minds is like to that above." the council tent was in darkness! the lights were out in the teepees. the whole camp was wrapped in solid slumber. and as we sunk to rest in our bed of new-mown hay, we breathed a prayer for the slumbering sioux around us; may the cloud, by day, and the pillar of fire, by night, guide the sioux nation through the red sea of savagery, superstition and sin to the promised land of christian civilization. the native missionary society. it is well worth a journey to the land of the dakotas to witness an anniversary gathering of their woman's missionary society. you enter the great council tent. it is thronged with these nut-brown women of the plains. a matronly woman welcomes you, and presides with grace and dignity. a bright and beautiful young maiden--a graduate of santee or good will--controls the organ and sweetly leads the service of song. and oh how they do sing! you cannot understand the words, but the airs are familiar. now it is bishop coxe's "latter day" sung with vim in the indian tongue; "we are living, we are dwelling, in a grand and awful time; in an age on ages telling, to be living is sublime." and now some sedate matron rises and reads a carefully written paper, contrasting their past, vile teepee life of ignoble servitude to satan, with their present, pure life of glorious liberty in the lord jesus christ. and then they sing, so earnestly for they are thinking of their pagan sisters of the wild tribes, sitting in darkness and the shadow of death, in the regions beyond. the hymn is draper's "missionary chant." "ye christian heralds, go proclaim salvation through emmanuel's name; to distant lands the tidings bear and plant the rose of sharon there." and now a lively young lass, neatly attired, comes forward and with a fine, clear accent, recites a poem of hope, touching the bright future of their tribe, when the present generation of young men and maidens, nourished in christian homes, educated in christian schools and trained in the young people's societies for efficient service, shall control their tribe, and move the great masses of their people upward and god-ward, and elevate the sioux nation to a lofty plane of christian civilization and culture; and enable them to display to the world the rich fruition of christian service. and, by request, their voices ring out in song these thrilling words; "watchman, tell us of the night, for the morning seems to dawn; traveller, darkness takes its flight, doubt and terror are withdrawn. watchman, let thy wanderings cease; hie thee, to thy quiet home; traveller, lo, the prince of peace, lo, the son of god is come!" fervent prayers are frequently interspersed in these exercises. and oh, what wondrous liberality these dark-skinned sisters of the dakota plains display! how full their hands are with rich gifts, gleaned out of their poverty for the treasury of their saviour-king. for many years, the average annual contributions per capita to missions, by these sioux sisters, have fully measured up to the standard of their more highly favored anglo-saxon sisters of the wealthy presbyterian and congregational denominations, of which they form a humble part. chapter vi. it was . from the heights of sisseton, south dakota, another striking scene met the eye. the great triangular sisseton reserve of one million acres no longer exists. three hundred thousand of its choicest acres are now held in severalty by the fifteen hundred members of the sisseton and wahpeton band of the dakotas--the "leaf dwellers" of the plains. their homes, their schools, their churches cover the prairies. that spire pointing heavenward rises from good will church, a commodious, well-furnished edifice, with windows of stained glass. within its walls, there worship on the sabbath, scores of dusky presbyterian christians. the pastor, the rev. charles crawford, in whose veins there flows the mingled blood of the shrewd scotch fur trader and the savage sioux, lives in that comfortable farm house a few rods distant. he has a pastorate that many a white minister might covet. miles to the west, still stands in its grassy cove on the coteaux of the prairie, the church of the ascension, referring not to the ascension of our lord, but to "the going up" of the prairies. on the hill above it, is the cozy home of the pastor emeritus, the rev. john baptiste renville, whose pastorate, in point of continuous service, has been the longest in the two dakotas. after a long lifetime of faithful ministrations to the people of his own charge, enfeebled by age and disease, he sweetly fell asleep in jesus, dec. , . doubtless his is a starry crown, richly gemmed, in token of the multitude of the souls of his fellow tribesmen, led to the savior by his tender, faithful ministry of a life-time in their midst. round about these two churches cluster half a dozen other congregations, worshipping in comfortable church homes. these form only a part of the presbytery of dakota. the original presbytery of dakota was organized september , , at the mission home of dr. williamson, at lac-qui-parle, minnesota. it was organized, by the missionaries, among the dakotas, for the furtherance of their peculiar work. the charter members were three ministers, the rev. samuel w. pond, rev. thomas s. williamson, m.d., and rev. stephen r. riggs and one elder alexander g. huggins. it was an independent presbytery, and, for fourteen years, was not connected with any synod. it was a lone presbytery, in a vast region, now covered by a dozen synods and scores of presbyteries. for many years, the white and indian churches that were organized in minnesota, were united in this presbytery and wrought harmoniously together. in , the general assembly of presbyterian churches (n.s.) invited this independent presbytery to unite with her two minnesota presbyteries and form the synod of minnesota which was accomplished. solely on account of the barrier of the language, the missionaries and churches among the dakotas, petitioned the synod of minnesota to organize them into a separate presbytery. and the synod so ordered and it was so done, september , , just twenty-three years after the first organization at lac-qui-parle. by this order, the limits of the presbytery of dakota became the churches and ministers among the dakota indians. it is the only presbytery in existence, without any geographical boundaries. at present, there are seventeen ordained indian ministers upon the roll of this presbytery--workmen of whom neither they themselves nor any others have any cause to be ashamed. there are, also, under its care, twenty-eight well-organized churches, aggregating more than fifteen hundred communicants, and eight hundred sabbath-school members. the contributions of these fifteen hundred dakota presbyterians in , exceeded the sum of six thousand dollars for all religious purposes. among the "dispersed" of the sioux nation, in manitoba, there is one organized presbyterian church of twenty-five communicant members. it is the church of beulah and is in connection with the presbyterian church of canada. in all, twenty-one sioux indians have been ordained to the presbyterian ministry, by the presbytery of dakota. of these, artemas ehnamane, titus icaduze, joseph iron door, and john baptiste renville have all passed on, from the beautiful prairies of the dakotas, to the celestial plains of glory. and how warm must have been their greeting as they passed through the pearly gates of the city, whose builder and maker is god. gideon pond, dr. williamson, samuel w. pond, stephen r. riggs and robert hopkins, margaret williamson, mary riggs and aunt jane and other faithful missionaries and thousands of redeemed dakotas, welcomed them, with glad hozannas, and sweet are the songs they sing as they walk together, under the trees, on the banks of the river of life. the dakota congregational association has under its care thirteen organized churches, with more than one thousand communicants and one thousand sabbath school members. the prominent leaders of its work are alfred l. riggs d.d., of santee, nebraska, and rev. thomas l. riggs of oahe, south dakota. they are the worthy sons of their famous father, stephen r. riggs, d.d., one of the heroic pioneers in the dakota work. the native ministers are francis frazier, edwin phelps, james garvie, james wakutamani and elias gilbert. this association is a mighty factor in god's plan, for the upbuilding of the dakotas, in the things that are noble and of good report. the presbyterian and congregationalists have wrought together, side by side, for seventy years, in this glorious enterprise. under their auspices, forty-four churches, many schools and other beneficent organizations are in efficient operation among these former savage dwellers on these plains. seven other natives have, also, been ordained to the priesthood in the episcopal church, making thirty-three in all, who have served their fellow-tribesmen in the high and holy office of the christian ministry. there is not a single ordained romish priest among the sioux indians. "watchman, tell us of the night, what its signs of promise are." seventy years ago, among the twenty-five thousand sioux indians in the united states, there was not a single church, not even one professing christian. they were all polytheistic pagans. there were signs of pagan worship about every teepee. it might be the medicine sack tied behind the conical wigwam, or a yard of broadcloth, floating from the top of a flagpole as a sacrifice to some deity. there was more or less idol-worship in all their gatherings. one of the simplest forms was the holding of a well-filled pipe at arm's length, with the mouth-piece upward, while the performers said, "o lord, take a smoke and have mercy on me." in the feasts and dances, the forms were more elaborate. the sun-dance continued for days of fasting and sacrificial work by the participants. now these signs of pagan worship have almost entirely disappeared among the dakotas. these facts speak volumes--one in eight of the dakotas is a presbyterian. there are two-thirds as many congregationalists, twice as many episcopalians and twice as many catholics. more than one-half of the dakotas have been baptized in the name of the triune god and thousands of them are professed followers of the lord jesus christ. now what has wrought this great change among the dakotas? it was the power of the holy spirit of the lord, working through the means of grace as employed and applied by these faithful missionaries. they renounced heathenism, not because the government so ordered, but because they found that there was no god like jehovah and jehovah said, "thou shalt have no other gods before me." even those who have not accepted christ have generally cast away their idols. now do missions pay? do indian missions pay? let the grand work among the dakotas and its glorious results be an all sufficient answer. it does pay a thousand fold. hear the christian tribesmen sing the hymn of the sioux. lift aloft the starry banner, let it wave o'er land and sea; shout aloud and sing hosanna! praise the lord, who set us free! here we stand amazed and wonder such a happy change to see; the bonds of sin are burst asunder! praise the lord who set us free. long we lay in darkness pining, not a ray of hope had we! now the gospel sun is shining: praise the lord who set us free. in one loud and joyful chorus, heart and soul now join will we; salvation's sun is shining o'er us! praise the lord who set us free. _part ii._ some sioux storiettes _part ii_ _contents_ some sioux storiettes. i. the dead papoose.--the maiden's feast. ii. grand mother pond.--oak grove mission. iii. anpetuzapawin.--a legend of st anthony falls. iv. aunt jane--the red song woman. v. artemas--the warrior-preacher. vi. two famous missions--lake harriet and prairieville. vii. the prince of indian preachers. viii. an indian patriarch. ix. john--the beloved of the sioux nation. x. the martyrs of old st. joe. the dead papoose the indian mother, when her child dies, does not believe that swift angels bear it into the glorious sunshine of the spirit-land; but she has a beautiful dream to solace her bereavement. the cruel empty places, which everywhere meet the eye of the weeping white mother, are unknown to her, for to her tender fancy a little spirit-child fills them. it is not a rare sight to see a pair of elaborate tiny moccasins above a little indian grave. a mother's fingers have embroidered them, a mother's hand has hung them there, to help the baby's feet over the long rough road that stretches between his father's wigwam and the great chief's happy hunting grounds. indians believe that a baby's spirit cannot reach the spirit-land until the child, if living, would have been old enough and strong enough to walk. until that time the little spirit hovers about its mother. and often it grows tired--oh so very tired! so the tender mother carries a papoose's cradle on her back that the baby spirit may ride and rest when it will. the cradle is filled with the softest feathers, for the spirit rests more comfortably upon soft things--hard things bruise it--and all the papoose's old toys dangle from the crib, for the dead papoose may love to play even as the living papoose did. the maidens' feast of the many peculiar customs of the indians in the long ago, perhaps the most unique was the annual "feast of maidens." one was given at fort ellis, manitoba, some thirty years ago, in a natural amphitheatre, surrounded by groves, fully one thousand feet above the assiniboine river. it was observed at a reunion of the sioux, and of the assiniboines and the crees, three friendly tribes. in his "indian boyhood," that brilliant sioux author, dr. charles alexander eastman, great-grandson of cloudman or man-of-the-sky, that potential friend of the missionaries in pioneer days at lake calhoun, graphically describes it thus:-- "one bright summer morning, while we were still at our meal of jerked buffalo meat, we heard the herald of the wahpeton band upon his calico pony as he rode round our circle. "white eagle's daughter, the maiden red star, invites all the maidens of all the tribes to come and partake of her feast. it will be in the wahpeton camp, before the sun reaches the middle of the sky. all pure maidens are invited. red star, also, invites the young men to be present, to see that no unworthy maiden should join in the feast." the herald soon completed the rounds of the different camps, and it was not long before the girls began to gather. it was regarded as a semi-sacred feast. it would be desecration for any to attend, who was not perfectly virtuous. hence it was regarded as an opportune time for the young men to satisfy themselves as to who were the virtuous maids of the tribe. there were apt to be surprises before the end of the day. any young man was permitted to challenge any maiden, whom he knew to be untrue. but woe to him, who could not prove his case. it meant little short of death to the man, who endeavored to disgrace a woman without cause. from the various camps, the girls came singly or in groups, dressed in bright colored calicoes or in heavily fringed and beaded buckskin. their smooth cheeks and the center of their glossy hair was touched with vermillion. all brought with them wooden basins to eat from. some who came from a considerable distance were mounted upon ponies; a few for company or novelty's sake rode double. the maidens' circle was formed about a cone-shaped rock, which stood upon its base. this was painted red. beside it, two new arrows were lightly stuck into the ground. this is a sort of altar, to which each maiden comes before taking her assigned place in the circle, and lightly touches first the stone and then the arrows. by this oath, she declares her purity. whenever a girl approaches the altar there is a stir among the spectators and sometimes a rude youth would call out; "take care! you will overturn the rock or pull out the arrows!" immediately behind the maidens' circle is the chaperons' circle. this second circle is almost as interesting to look at as the inner one. the old women watched every movement of their respective charges with the utmost concern. there was never a more gorgeous assembly of its kind than this one. the day was perfect. the crees, displaying their characteristic horsemanship, came in groups; the assiniboines with their curious pompadour well covered with red paint. the various bands of sioux all carefully observed the traditional peculiarities of dress and behavior. the whole population of the region had assembled and the maidens came shyly into the circle. during the simple preparatory rites, there was a stir of excitement among a group of wahpeton sioux young men. all the maidens glanced nervously toward the scene of the disturbance. soon a tall youth emerged from the throng of spectators and advanced toward the circle. with a steady step, he passed by the chaperons, and approached the maidens' circle. at last, he stopped behind a pretty assiniboine maiden of good family and said: "i am sorry, but according to custom, you should not be here." the girl arose in confusion, but she soon recovered her control. "what do you mean?" she demanded indignantly. "three times you have come to court me, but each time i have refused to listen to you. i have turned my back upon you. twice i was with washtinna. she can tell the people that this is true. the third time i had gone for water when you intercepted me and begged me to stop and listen. i refused because i did not know you. my chaperon makatopawee knows i was gone but a few minutes. i never saw you anywhere else." the young man was unable to answer this unmistakable statement of facts and it became apparent that he had sought to revenge himself for her repulse. "woo! woo! carry him out!" was the order of the chief of the indian police, and the audacious youth was hurried away into the nearest ravine to be chastised. the young woman who had thus established her good name returned to the circle and the feast was served. the "maidens' song" was sung, and four times they danced in a ring around the altar. each maid, as she departed, took her oath to remain pure until she should meet her husband. ii grandmother pond. grandmother pond is one of the rarest spirits, one of the loveliest characters in minnesota. she is the last living link between the past and the present--between that heroic band of pioneer missionaries who came to minnesota prior to , and those who joined the ranks of this glorious missionary service in more recent years. her life reads like a romance. agnes carson johnson pond is a native of ohio--born at greenfield in . she was the daughter of william johnson, a physician and surgeon of chillicothe, ohio. by the death of her father she was left an orphan at five years of age. her mother married a worthy minister of the associate reformed presbyterian church, rev. john mcdill. she had superior educational and social advantages and made good use of all her opportunities. she was educated at a seminary at south hanover, indiana. there she met her future husband, robert hopkins. he, as well as she, was in training for service on mission fields. they were married in . he had already been appointed as a missionary teacher for the sioux indians. the young wife was compelled to make her bridal tour in the company of strangers, by boat and stage and private conveyance from ohio to the then unknown land of the upper mississippi. it required thirty days then, instead of thirty hours, as now, to pass from ohio to the falls of st. anthony. the bride-groom drove his own team from galena, illinois, to fort snelling. [illustration: grandmother pond, the last living member of the heroic band of pioneer missionaries to the dakotas, in the st year of her age.] her husband drowned. mr. and mrs. hopkins were first stationed at lac-qui-parle. after one year they were transferred to traverse des sioux, near the present site of st. peter, minnesota. here they gave seven years of the most faithful, devoted, self-sacrificing toil for the lost and degraded savages around them. they built a humble home and established and maintained a mission school. five children were born to them there. two of these were early called to the celestial home on high. their life at traverse des sioux was a strenuous, isolated, but a fruitful and happy one. it was destined, however, to a speedy and tragic end. early in the morning of july , , mr. hopkins entered the river for a bath. he was never seen alive again. a treacherous swirl in the water at that point suddenly carried him to his death. his wife waited long the carefully prepared morning meal, but her beloved came not again. he went up through the great flood of waters from arduous service on the banks of the beautiful minnesota to his glorious rewards on the banks of the still more beautiful river of life. broken-hearted, the young wife, only twenty-six years of age, laid him to rest on the banks of the river whose treacherous waves had robbed her of her life companion. sadly she closed her home in minnesota and, with her three little fatherless children, returned to her old home in far-distant ohio. rev. robert hopkins enjoyed the full confidence of his colleagues and was greatly beloved by the indians. his untimely death was an irreparable loss to the mission work among the sioux. second bridal tour to the west. shortly after the tragedy at traverse des sioux, mrs. sarah poage pond, wife of rev. gideon h. pond, died at oak grove mission of consumption. in mr. pond visited ohio, where he and mrs. hopkins were united in marriage. she made a second bridal tour from ohio to minnesota, and toiled by his side till his death in . in every relation in life in which she has been placed, mrs. pond has excelled. while she long ago ceased from active service in mission fields, she ever has been, and still is untiring in her efforts to do good to all as she has opportunity. she is strong and vigorous at the age of eighty. she still resides at the oak grove mission house, her home since , universally beloved and regarded as the best woman in the world by about one hundred descendants. [illustration: john p. williamson, d.d., superintendent of presbyterian sioux missions. forty-five years a missionary to the sioux.] [illustration: st. anthony falls.] oak grove mission house. this old land mark is located in hennepin county, minnesota, twelve miles southwest of minneapolis. here in , gilbert h. pond established his headquarters as a missionary to the sioux indians. he erected a large log building in which he resided, taught school and preached the gospel. here, in , the presbytery of dakota convened, and ordained mr. pond and robert hopkins to the presbyterian ministry. for many years it was the sole source of social, moral, and spiritual light for a wide region for both races. it was also the favorite gathering place of the indians for sport. in , a great game of ball was played here. good road and grey iron joined their followers with cloudman's band of lake calhoun in opposition to little six and his band from shakopay. two hundred and fifty men and boys participated in the game, while two hundred and fifty others were deeply interested spectators. the game lasted for three days and was won by cloudman and his allies. forty-six hundred dollars in ponies, blankets and other such property changed hands on the results. in , the present commodious residence was erected of brick manufactured on the premises. for twenty-one years it was the residence of rev. gideon hollister pond. he was for twenty years, also, pastor of the white presbyterian church of oak grove. he was a member of the first territorial legislature; the editor of the "the dakota friend" the first religious journal published in the state, and he was also the first preacher of the gospel in the city of minneapolis. in whatever position he was placed in life, he ever proved himself to be a wise, conscientious, consecrated christian gentleman. none knew him, but to love him; none knew him, but to praise. he was born in connecticut, june thirtieth, , and on the twentieth of january, , he passed from his oak grove mission home through the gates of the celestial city, to go no more out. they laid him to rest in the midst of the people, whom he had loved and served so well for four and forty years and by whom he was universally beloved and admired. none were more sincere in their demonstrations of sorrow than the little company of dakotas to whom he had been a more than father. iii anpetusapawin _a legend of st. anthony falls_ long ere the white man's bark had seen these flower-decked prairies, fair and wide, long ere the white man's bark had been borne on the mississippi's tide, so long ago, dakotas say, anpetusapawin was born, her eyes beheld these scenes so gay first opening on life's rosy morn. --s. w. pond. in the long ago, a young indian brave espoused as his wife this indian maiden of whom the poet sings. with her he lived happily for a few years, in the enjoyment of every comfort of which a savage life is capable. to crown their happiness, they were blessed with two lovely children on whom they doted. during this time, by a dint of activity and perseverance in the chase, he became signalized in an eminent degree as a hunter, having met with unrivaled success in the pursuit and capture of the wild denizens of the forest. this circumstance contributed to raise him high in the estimation of his fellow savages and drew a crowd of admiring friends around. this operated as a spur to his ambitions. at length some of his newly acquired friends suggested to him the propriety of taking another wife, as it would be impossible for one woman to manage the affairs of his household and properly wait upon the many guests his rising importance would call to visit him. they intimated to him that in all probability he would soon be elevated to the chieftainship. his vanity was fired by the suggestion. he yielded readily and accepted a wife they had already selected for him. after his second marriage, he sought to take his new wife home and reconcile his first wife to the match in the most delicate manner possible. to this end he returned to his first wife, as yet ignorant of what had occurred, and endeavored, by dissimulation, to secure her approval. "you know," said he, "i can love no one as i love you; yet i see your labors are too great for your powers of endurance. your duties are daily becoming more and more numerous and burdensome. this grieves me sorely. but i know of only one remedy by which you can be relieved. these considerations constrain me to take another wife. this wife shall be under your control in every respect and ever second to you in my affections." she listened to his narrative in painful anxiety and endeavored to reclaim him from his wicked purpose, refuting all his sophistry by expressions of her unaffected conjugal affection. he left her to meditate. she became more industrious and treated him more tenderly than before. she tried every means in her power to dissuade him from the execution of his vile purpose. she pleaded all the endearments of their former happy life, the regard he had for her happiness and that of the offspring of their mutual love to prevail on him to relinquish the idea of marrying another wife. he then informed her of the fact of his marriage and stated that compliance on her part would be actually necessary. she must receive the new wife into their home. she was determined, however, not to be the passive dupe of his duplicity. with her two children she returned to her parental teepee. in the autumn she joined her friends and kinsmen in an expedition up the mississippi and spent the winter in hunting. in the springtime, as they were returning, laden with peltries, she and her children occupied a canoe by themselves. on nearing the falls of st. anthony she lingered in the rear till the others had landed a little above the falls. she then painted herself and children, paddled her canoe into the swift current of the rapids and began chanting her death song, in which she recounted her former happy life, with her husband, when she enjoyed his undivided affection, and the wretchedness in which she was now involved by his infidelity. her friends, alarmed at her imminent peril, ran to the shore and begged her to paddle out of the current before it was too late, while her parents, rending their clothing and tearing their hair, besought her to come to their arms of love; but all in vain. her wretchedness was complete and must terminate with her existence! she continued her course till her canoe was borne headlong down the roaring cataract, and it and the deserted, heartbroken wife and the beautiful and innocent children, were dashed to pieces on the rocks below. no traces of the canoe or its occupants were found. her brothers avenged her death by slaying the treacherous husband of the deserted wife. they say that still that song is heard above the mighty torrent's roar, when trees are by the night-wind stirred and darkness broods on stream and shore. iv aunt jane _the red song woman_ miss jane smith williamson, the subject of this sketch, was one of the famous missionary women in our land in the nineteenth century. she was widely known among both whites and indians as "aunt jane." the dakotas also called her "red song woman." she was born at fair forest, south carolina, march , . through her father she was a lineal descendant of the rev. john newton and sir isaac newton. her father was a revolutionary soldier. her mother was jane (smith) williamson. they believed that negroes had souls and therefore treated the twenty-seven slaves they had inherited like human beings. her mother was fined in south carolina, for teaching her slaves to read the bible. consequently, in , in her early infancy, her parents emigrated to adams county, ohio, in order to be able to free their slaves and teach them to read the word of god and write legibly. the story of aunt jane's life naturally falls into three divisions. i--preparation for her great life work. this covered forty years. she grew up in an atmosphere of sincere and deep piety and of devotion to christian principles. her early educational advantages were necessarily limited, but she made the most of them. she became very accurate in the use of language, wrote a clear round hand and was very thorough in everything she studied. she was a great reader of good and useful books, possessed an excellent memory and a lively imagination and very early acquired a most interesting style of composition. [illustration: aunt jane, or, the red song woman.] from her ancestors she inherited that strong sympathy for the colored race, which was a marked characteristic of her whole life. in her young womanhood, she taught private schools in adams county, ohio. the progress made by her pupils was very rapid and her instruction was of a high order. she sought out the children of the poor and taught them without charge. she admitted colored pupils as well as whites. for this cause, many threats of violence were made against her school. but she was such an excellent teacher that her white pupils remained with her; and a guard of volunteer riflemen frequently surrounded her school house. she calmly pursued the even tenor of her way. in , when she was only years of age, she and her brother rode on horseback all the way from manchester, ohio, to south carolina and back again, and brought with them two slaves they had inherited. they could have sold them in the south for $ each, and stood in great need of the money; but instead, they gave to these two poor colored persons the priceless boon of liberty. miss williamson's slave was a young woman of her own age, called jemima. she was married to another slave named logan. she was the mother of two children. logan was a daring man, and rendered desperate by the loss of his young wife, he determined to be free and follow her. he fled from south carolina, and after passing through many adventures of the most thrilling character, he found his wife in ohio, and lived and died a free man. he was fully determined to die rather than return to slavery. jemima lived to a great age, surviving her husband, who was killed accidently in the fifties. they left a family highly respected. during all these years "aunt jane" was a very active worker in sabbath schools, prayer meetings and missionary societies. in her own day schools, she made religious worship and bible study a prominent feature of the exercises. in , when her brother, dr. williamson, went as a missionary to the dakotas, she strongly desired to accompany him. but her duty required her to remain at home and care for her aged father, who died in , at the age of . she did not join her brother, however, until , at the age of forty. ii--her work among the dakotas. this covers one-third of a century. the missionary spirit was a part of her life,--born with her,--a heritage of several generations. the blood of the newtons flowed in her veins. when she arrived in minnesota, she went to work without delay and with great energy and with untiring industry greatly beyond her strength. she was very familiar with the bible. she taught hundreds of indians, perhaps fully one thousand, to read the word of god, and the greater part of them to write a legible letter. she visited all the sick within her reach, and devoted much of her time to instructing the dakota women in domestic duties. she conducted prayer meetings and conversed with them in reference to the salvation of their souls. many of them, saved by the holy spirit's benediction upon her self-denying efforts, are now shining like bright gems in her crown of glory on high. lac-qui-parle,--the lake-that-speaks,--two hundred miles west of st. paul, was her first missionary home. there she gathered the young indians together and taught them as opportunity offered. the instruction of the youth--especially the children, of whom she was ever a devoted lover, was her great delight. it was more than a year before any mail reached her at this remote outpost. she was absent in the indian village when she heard of the arrival of her first mail. she, in her eagerness to hear from her friends in ohio, ran like a young woman to her brother's house. she found the mail in the stove-oven. the carrier had brought it through the ice, and it had to be thawed out. that mail contained more than fifty letters for her and the postage on them was over five dollars. in , she removed with her brother to kaposia, little crow's village (now south st. paul), and in to yellow medicine, thirty-two miles south of lac-qui-parle. the privations of the missionaries were very great. white bread was more of a luxury to them then, than rich cake ordinarily is now. their houses and furnishings were of the rudest kind. their environments were all of a savage character. their trials were many and sore, extreme scarcity of food in mid-winter, savage threats and bitter insults. they were "in journeyings often, in perils of waters, of robbers, by the heathen and in the wilderness." all this she endured contentedly for christ's sake and the souls of the poor ignorant savages around for the evangelization and salvation of the degraded dakotas,--lost in sin. she possessed great tact and was absolutely fearless. in , during the inkpadoota trouble, the father of a young-indian, who had been wounded by the soldiers of sherman's battery, came with his gun to the mission house to kill her brother. aunt jane met him with a plate of food for himself and an offer to send some nice dishes to the wounded young man. this was effectual. the savage was tamed. he ate the food and afterwards came with his son to give them thanks. scarcely was the prison-camp, with nearly four hundred dakota prisoners, three-fourths of them condemned to be hanged, established at mankato, when aunt jane and her brother came to distribute paper and pencils and some books among them. when their lives were imperilled, by their savage pursuers, during the terrible massacre, aunt jane calmly said; "well if they kill me, my home is in heaven." the churches were scattered, the work apparently destroyed, but nothing could discourage aunt jane. she had, in the midst of this great tragedy, the satisfactory knowledge that all the christian sioux had continued at the risk of their own lives, steadfast in their loyalty, and had been instrumental in saving the lives of many whites. they had, also, influenced for good many of their own race. iii--the closing years of her life. after that terrible massacre the way never opened for her to resume her residence among the dakotas; but she was given health and strength for nineteen years more toil for the master and her beloved indians. her home was with her brother, dr. williamson, near st. peter, until his death in , and she remained, in his old home several years after his death. during this period, she accomplished much for the education of the indians around her and she kept up an extensive and helpful correspondence with native christian workers. all the time she kept up the work of self-sacrifice for the good of others. in she met a poor indian woman, suffering extremely from intense cold. she slipped off her own warm skirt and gave it to the woman. the result was a severe illness, which caused her partial paralysis and total blindness from which she never recovered. in she handed the writer a $ gold coin for the work among the freedmen with this remark: "first the freedman; then the indian." out of a narrow income she constantly gave generously to the boards of the church and to the poor around her. she spent most of her patrimony in giving and lending to needy ones. the closing years of her life were spent with her nephew the great indian missionary the rev. john p. williamson d.d. at greenwood, south dakota. there at noon of march , , the light of eternity dawned upon her and she entered into that sabbatic rest, which remains for the people of god. such is the story of aunt jane, modest and unassuming--a real heroine, who travelled sixteen hundred miles all the way on horseback and spent several months that she might rescue two poor colored persons whom she had never seen or even known. without husband or children, alone in the world, she did not repine, but made herself useful, wherever she was, in teaching secular learning and religious truth, and in ministering to the sick and afflicted, the down-trodden and oppressed. she never sought to do any wonderful things,--but whatever her hand found to do, she did it with her might and with an eye to the honor and glory of god. hers was a very long and most complete christian life. should it ever be forgotten? certainly not, while our christian religion endures. "blessed are the dead which die in the lord from henceforth; yea, saith the spirit, that they may rest from their labors and their works do follow them." --rev. : . v artemas, the warrior preacher he was one of the fiercest of the sioux warriors. he fought the ojibways in his youth; danced the scalp-dance on the present site of minneapolis, and waged war against the whites in ' . he was converted at mankato, minnesota, in the prison-pen, and for thirty-two years, he was pastor of the pilgrim congregational church at santee, nebraska. artemas ehnamane was born in , at red wing, minnesota, by the mountain that stands sentinel at the head of lake pepin. "walking along" is the english translation of his jaw-breaking surname. as a lad, he played on the banks of the mighty mississippi. as a youth, he hunted the red deer in the lovely glades of minnesota and wisconsin. he soon grew tall and strong and became a famous hunter. the war-path, also, opened to him in the pursuit of his hereditary foes, the chippewas. he danced the scalp-dance on the present site of minneapolis, when it was only a wind-swept prairie. while in his youth, his tribe ceded their ancestral lands along the mississippi and removed to the sioux reservation on the minnesota river. but not for long, for the terrible outbreak of , scattered everything and landed all the leading men of that tribe in prison. artemas was one of them. he was convicted, condemned to death, and pardoned by abraham lincoln. while in the prison-pen at mankato, he came into a new life "that thinketh no evil of his neighbor." the words of the faithful missionaries, pond and williamson and riggs, sank deep into his heart. his whole nature underwent a change. artemas once explained his conversion thus: "we had planned that uprising wisely and secretly. we had able leaders. we were well organized and thoroughly armed. the whites were weakened by the southern war. everything was in our favor. we had prayed to our gods. but when the conflict came, we were beaten so rapidly and completely, i felt that the white man's god must be greater than all the indians' gods; and i determined to look him up, and i found him, all-powerful and precious to my soul." faithfully he studied his letters and learned his dakota bible, which became more precious to him than any record of traditions and shadows handed down from mouth to mouth by his people. he soon became possessed of a great longing to let his tribe know his great secret of the god above. so when the prisoners were restored to their families in the missouri vally in nebraska, artemas was soon chosen one of the preachers of the reorganized tribe. his first pastorate was that of the pilgrim congregational church at santee, nebraska, in . it was also his last, for he was ever so beloved and honored by his people, that they would not consider any proposal for separation. no such proposition ever met with favor in the pilgrim church for artemas firmly held first place in the affections of the people among whom he labored so earnestly. he served this church for thirty-two years and passed on to take his place among the shining ones, on the eve of easter sabbath, . artemas seldom took a vacation. in fact there is only one on record. in , his church voted a vacation of six weeks. true to his indian nature, he planned a deer hunt. he turned his footsteps to the wilds of the running water (niobrara river), where his heart grew young and his rifle cracked the death-knell of the deer and antelope. one evening, in the track of the hostile sioux and pawnees, he found himself near a camp of the savage sicaugu. he was weak and alone. they were strong and hostile. he had tact as well as courage. he invited those savage warriors to a feast. his kettle was brimming, and as the indians filled their mouths with the savory meat, he filled their ears with the story of the gospel, and gave them their first view of that eternal life, purchased by the blood of christ. the deer-hunt became a soul-hunt. the wild sicaugu grunted their amicable "hao" as they left his teepee, their mouths filled with venison and their hearts planted with the seeds of eternal truth. again he went on a deer-hunt, when he crossed another trail, that of hunters from another hostile tribe. in the camp he found a sick child, the son of samuel heart, a yankton sioux. but let heart tell the story himself in his simple way: "i was many days travel away in the wilderness. my child was very sick. i felt much troubled. a man of god came to my tent. i remember all he said. he told me not to be troubled, but to trust in god, and all would be well. he prayed; he asked god to strengthen the child so i could bring him home. god heard him. my child lived to get home. once my heart would have been very sad, and i would have done something very wicked. i look forward and trust jesus." this is how rev. artemas ehnamane spent his vacations, hunting for wild souls instead of wild deer. he was a scriptural, personal and powerful preacher. faith in a risen saviour, was the keynote of his ministry. as he said: "who of all the saviours of the indian people has risen from the dead? not one." "our fathers told us many things and gave us many customs, but they were not true." "i grew up believing in what my father taught me, but when i knew of jesus christ, the son of god, i believed in him and put aside all my ways." it was to him in truth, the coming out of darkness into light. "sins are like wolves," he said. "they abound in the darkness and destroy men. when we enter the way, jesus watches over us. be awake and follow him. all over the world men are beginning to follow christ. the day is here." "repent, believe, obey." he loved to sing: "saved, by grace, alone; that is all my plea; jesus died for all mankind; jesus died for me." the twenty grand-children of the old sioux--all of school age--are diligently prosecuting their studies in order to be prepared to meet the changed conditions which civilization has made possible for the indians. one of his grand-sons is a physician now, in a fair practice among his own people. this man president lincoln wisely pardoned, knowing full well what a great influence for good such a man could wield over his turbulent people. and the president was not disappointed. one of his sons has been a missionary among the swift bear tribe at the rose bud agency for twenty years; another son has been a missionary at standing rock, on the grand river, and is now pastor of an indian congregation on basile creek, nebraska, and is also an important leader of his tribe. the rev. francis frazier, one of his sons, was installed september , , as his father's successor in the pastorate of pilgrim church at santee. his married daughter is also very earnest in the woman's work in the church. seventy-seven years of age at his death, rev. artemas ehnamane had filled to overflowing with good deeds to offset the first half, when he fought against the encroachments of the whites and the advance of civilization with as much zeal as later he evinced in his religious and beneficent life. abraham lincoln pardoned ehnamane and the old warrior never forgot it. but it was another pardon he prized more highly than that. it was this pardon he preached and died believing. vi two famous missions. _lake harriet and prairieville_ in the spring of , the rev. jedediah dwight stevens, of the presbyterian church, arrived at fort snelling under the auspices of the american board of missions. he established a station on the northwestern shore of lake harriet. it was a most beautiful spot, west of the indian village, presided over by that friendly and influential chieftain cloudman or man-of-the-sky. he erected two buildings--the mission-home, first residence for white settlers, and the school house--the first building erected exclusively for school purposes within the present boundaries of the state of minnesota. within a few rods of the pavilion, where on the sabbath, multitudes gather for recreation, and desecration of god's holy day, is the site, where, in , the first systematic effort was made to educate and christianize dakota indians. it is near the present junction of forty-second street, and queen avenue (linden hills). in july, mr. stevens, and his interesting family, took possession of the mission house. with the co-operation of the pond brothers, this mission was prosecuted with a fair measure of success till the removal of the indians farther west, in , when it was abandoned, and the connection of mr. stevens with the work of the dakota mission ceased. here on the evening of november , , a romantic wedding was solemnized by rev. j. d. stevens. the groom was samuel pond of the dakota mission. the groomsman was henry h. sibley, destined in after years to be minnesota's first delegate to congress, her first state executive, and in the trying times of ' , the victorious general sibley. the bride was miss cordelia eggleston; the bridesmaid, miss cornelia stevens; both amiable, lovely and remarkably handsome. it was a brilliant, starry evening, one of minnesota's brightest and most invigorating. the sleighing was fine, and among the guests, were many officers, from fort snelling, with their wives. dr. emerson and wife, the owners of dred scott, the subject of judge taney's infamous decision, were present. the doctor was, then, post-surgeon at the fort, and the slave dred, was his body-servant. the tall bridegroom and groomsman, in the vigor and strength of their young manhood; the bride and bridesmaid, just emerging from girlhood, with all their dazzling beauty, the officers in the brilliant uniforms, and their wives, in their gay attire, must have formed an attractive picture in the long ago. after the wedding festivities, the guests from the fort were imprisoned at the mission for the night, by a blizzard, which swept over the icy face of lake harriet. in the previous november, at lac-qui-parle, the younger brother was united in marriage to miss sarah poage, by the rev. stephen r. riggs. it was a unique gathering. the guests were all the dark-faced dwellers of the indian village, making a novel group of whites, half-breeds and savage indians. many of the latter were poor, maimed, halt and blind, who thoroughly enjoyed the feast of potatoes, turnips, and bacon so generously provided by the happy bridegroom. prairieville. in , shakpe or little six, extended an urgent invitation to samuel pond to establish a mission at tintonwan--"the village on the prairies"--for the benefit of his people. he was chief of one of the most turbulent bands of indians in the valley of the minnesota. he was a man of marked ability and one of the ablest and most effective orators in the whole dakota nation. yet withal, shakpe was a petty thief, had a "forked tongue," a violent temper, was excitable, and vindictive in his revenge. these characteristics led him to the scaffold. he was hanged at fort snelling, in for participation in the bloody massacre of ' . he and his followers were so noted for their deception and treachery, that mr. pond doubted their sincerity and the wisdom of accepting their invitation. but after weeks of prayerful deliberation, he accepted and began preparations for a permanent establishment at that point. he erected a commodious and substantial residence into which he removed, with his household, in november . this station, which mr. pond called prairieville, was fourteen miles southeast of oak grove mission, on the present site of shakopee. the mission home was pleasantly located on gently rising ground, half a mile south of the minnesota river. it was surrounded by the teepees of six hundred noisy savages. here, for several years they toiled unceasingly for the welfare of the wild men, by whom they were surrounded. in , mr. and mrs. pond were compelled, by her rapidly failing health, to spend a year in the east. she never returned. she died february , , at washington, connecticut. thus after fourteen years of arduous missionary toil, cordelia eggleston pond, the beautiful bride of the lake harriet mission house, was called from service to reward at the early age of thirty-six. mr. pond returned to prairieville and toiled on for the indians until their removal by the government, in . he himself, remained and continued his labors for the benefit of the white community of shakopee, which had grown up around him. in , a white presbyterian church was organized and, in , a comfortable church edifice was erected, wholly at the expense of the pastor and his people. the congregation still exists and the mission house still stands as monuments of the wisdom, faith and fortitude of the heroic builder. after thirteen years of faithful service, he laid the heavy burdens down for younger hands, but for a quarter of a century longer he remained in his old home. during these last years, his chief delight was in his books, which lost none of their power to interest him in advancing age; especially was this true of the book of books. he was never idle. the active energy, which distinguished his youth, no less marked his advancing years. his mind was as clear, his judgment as sound, and his mental vision as keen at eighty-three, as they were at thirty-three. his was a long and happy old age. he lingered in the house his own hands had builded, content to go or stay, till he was transferred, december twelfth, , to the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. vii the prince of indian preachers. without disparagement to any of his brethren in the ministry, this title can be properly applied to the rev. john baptiste renville, of iyakaptapte, (ascension) south dakota, who recently passed on to join the shining ranks of the saved sioux in glory. timid as a little child, yet bold as a lion, when aroused; shy of conversation in private, yet eloquent in the pulpit and in the council-chamber; yielding yet firm as a rock, when duty demanded it; a loving husband, a kind father, a loyal citizen, a faithful presbyter--a pungent preacher of the gospel, a soul-winner--a courteous, cultured christian gentleman; such a man was this indian son of a sioux mother, herself the first fullblood sioux convert to the christian faith. he was the youngest son of joseph renville, a mixed blood sioux and french, who was a captain in the british army in the war of and the most famous sioux indian in his day. after the war, he became a trader and established his headquarters at lac-qui-parle, where he induced dr. thomas s. williamson to locate his first mission station in . john baptiste was one of the first indian children baptized by dr. williamson and he enjoyed the benefits of the first school among the sioux. he was rather delicate, which hindered his being sent east to school as much as he otherwise would have been. however, he spent several years in excellent white schools, and he acquired a fair knowledge of the elementary branches of the english language. the last year he spent at knox college, galesburgh, illinois, where he wooed and won miss mary butler, an educated christian white woman, whom he married and who became his great helper in his educational and evangelistic work. [illustration: john b. renville[ ] john p. williamson, d.d. daniel renville john eastman charles r. crawford all indian ministers except dr. williamson] [ ] died dec. , [illustration: the rev. thomas s. williamson, m.d., forty-five years a missionary to the sioux.] he was the first sioux indian to enter the ministry. in the spring of , he was licensed to preach, by the presbytery of dakota, at mankato, minnesota, and ordained in the following autumn. when he entered the ministry, the sioux indians were in a very unsettled state, and his labors were very much scattered; now with the indian scouts on some campaign; again with a few families of indians gathered about some military post, and anon with a little class of indians, who were trying to settle down to civilized life. in , he became the pastor of iyakaptapte, (ascension) a little church in what subsequently became the sisseton reservation. both physically and in mental and spiritual qualities, he was best adapted to a settled pastorate. his quiet and unobtrusive character required long intercourse to be appreciated. however, in the pulpit, his earnestness and apt presentation of the truth ever commanded the attention even of strangers. under his ministry, the church increased to one hundred and forty members. more than half a dozen of them became ministers and ascension was generally the leading church in every good work among the dakota indians. no one among the christian sioux was more widely known and loved than mr. renville. in the councils of the church, though there were seventeen other ministers in the presbytery before his death, he was ever given the first place both for counsel and honor. he twice represented his presbytery in the general assembly, and he was ever faithful in his attendance at synod and presbytery and active in the discharge of the duties devolving upon him. mary butler, the white wife of his youth, died several years ago. their daughter ella, a fine christian young lady passed away at twenty years of age. she was active in organizing bands of hope among the children of the tribe. she sleeps, with her parents on the brow of iyakaptapte overlooking the church to which all their lives were devoted. josephine, the indian wife of his old age, survives him and remains in the white farm house on the prairie in which john baptiste renville spent so many years of his long, happy useful life. he died december , , in the seventy-third year of his age. viii an indian patriarch. chief cloudman or man-of-the-sky, was one of the strongest characters among the natives on the headwaters of the mississippi in the earlier half of the nineteenth century. he was one of the leading chiefs of the santee band of sioux indians. he was born about . he was brave in battle, wise in council, and possessed many other noble qualities, which caused him to rise far above his fellow chieftains. he possessed a large fund of common sense. years prior to the advent of the white man in this region, he regarded hunting and fishing as a too precarious means to a livelihood, and attempted to teach his people agriculture and succeeded to a limited extent. it was a strange circumstance that prompted the chief to this wise action. on a hunting tour in the red river country, with a part of his band, they were overtaken by a drifting storm and remained, for several days, under the snow, without any food whatsoever. while buried in those drifts, he resolved to rely, in part, upon agriculture, for subsistence, if he escaped alive, and he carried out his resolution, after the immediate peril was passed. his band cultivated small fields of quickly maturing corn, which had been introduced by their chief in the early 's. he was respected and loved by his people and quite well obeyed. [illustration: rev. john eastman.] before the coming of the missionaries he taught and enforced, by his example, this principle, namely, that it as wrong to kill non-combatants, or to kill under any circumstances in time of peace. he favored peace rather than war. he was twenty-five years of age, and had six notches on the handle of his tomahawk, indicating that he had slain half a dozen of his ojibway foes before he adopted this human policy. his own band lived on the shores of lakes calhoun and harriet, within the present limits of minneapolis. on the present site of lovely lakewood--minneapolis' most fashionable cemetery--was his village of several hundred savages, and also an indian burial place. this village was the front guard against the war parties of the ojibways--feudal enemies of the sioux--but finally as their young men were killed off in battle, they were compelled to remove and join their people on the banks of the minnesota and farther west. he located his greatly reduced band at bloomington, directly west of his original village. this removal occurred prior to . he was never hostile to the approach of civilization, or blind to the blessings it might confer on his people. he was one of the first of his tribe to accept the white man's ways and to urge his band to follow his example. this fact is confirmed by the great progress his descendants have made. he was the first sioux indian of any note to welcome those first pioneer missionaries, the pond brothers. as early as he encouraged them to erect their home and inaugurate their work in his village. in all the treaties formed between the government and the sioux, he was ever the ready and able advocate of the white man's cause. he threw all the weight of his powerful influence in favor of cession to the united states government of the military reservation on which fort snelling now stands. he died at fort snelling in , and was buried on the banks of the minnesota in view of the fort. he was the father of seven children, all of whom are dead, except his son david weston, his successor in the chieftainship, who still lives at flandreau, south dakota, at the age of seventy-eight years. he was for many years a catechist of the episcopal church. his two daughters were called hushes-the-night and stands-like-a-spirit. they were once the belles of lake harriet, to whom the officers and fur traders paid homage. hushes-the-night married a white man named lamont and became the mother of a child called jane. she had one sister, who died childless, in st. paul, in . jane lamont married star titus, a nephew of the pond brothers. they became the parents of three sons and two daughters. two of these sons are bankers and rank among the best business men of north dakota. they are recognized as leaders among the whites. the other son is a farmer near tracy, minnesota. stands-like-a-spirit was the mother of one daughter, mary nancy eastman, whose father, captain seth eastman, was stationed at fort snelling-- - . mary nancy married many lightnings, a fullblood, one of the leaders of the wahpeton-sioux. they became the parents of four sons and one daughter. after many lightnings became a christian, he took his wife's name, eastman, instead of his own, and gave all his children english names. john the eldest, and charles alexander, the youngest son, have made this branch of the cloudman family widely and favorably known. john eastman, at twenty-six years of age, became a presbyterian minister, and for more than a quarter of a century has been the successful pastor of the first presbyterian church of flandreau, south dakota. he was for many years a trusty indian agent at that place. he is a strong factor in indian policy and politics. he has had a scanty english education in books, but he has secured an excellent training, chiefly by mingling with cultured white people. his proud statement once was; "every adult member of the flandreau band is a professing christian, and every child of school age is in school." during the "ghost dance war," in , his band remained quietly at home, busy about their affairs. in the spring of , they divided $ , among themselves. charles alexander eastman was born in , in minnesota, the ancestral home of the sioux, and passed the first fifteen years of his life in the heart of the wilds of british america, enjoying to the full, the free, nomadic existence of his race. during all this time, he lived in a teepee of buffalo skins, subsisted upon wild rice and the fruits of the chase, never entered a house nor heard the english language spoken, and was taught to distrust and hate the white man. the second period (third) of his life was spent in school and college, where after a short apprenticeship in a mission school, he stood shoulder to shoulder, with our own youth, at beloit, knox, dartmouth and the boston university. he is an alumnus of dartmouth of ' and of boston university, department of medicine, of ' . during the last fifteen years, he has been a man of varied interests and occupations, a physician, missionary, writer and speaker of wide experience and, for the greater part of the time, has held an appointment under the government. at his birth he was called "hakadah" or "the pitiful last," as his mother died shortly after his birth. he bore this sad name till years afterwards he was called ohiyesa, "the winner," to commemorate a great victory of la crosse, the indian's favorite game, won by his band, "the leaf dwellers," over their foes, the ojibways. when he received this new name, the leading medicine man thus exhorted him: "be brave, be patient and thou shalt always win. thy name is "ohiyesa the winner."" the spirit of his benediction seems to follow and rest upon him in his life-service. his grandmother was "stands-like-a-spirit," the second daughter of the old chief cloudman. his full-blooded sioux father was a remarkable man in many ways and his mother, a half-blood woman, was the daughter of a well-known army officer. she was the most beautiful woman of the "leaf dwellers" band. by reason of her great beauty, she was called "demi-goddess of the sioux." save for her luxuriant, black hair, and her deep black eyes, she had every characteristic of caucasian descent. the motherless lad was reared by his grandmother and an uncle in the wilds of manitoba, where he learned thoroughly, the best of the ancient folk lore, religion and woodcraft of his people. thirty years of civilization have not dimmed his joy in the life of the wilderness nor caused him to forget his love and sympathy for the primitive people and the animal friends, who were the intimates of his boyhood. [illustration: dr. charles a. eastman, famous sioux author, orator and physician.] he is very popular as a writer for the leading magazines. "his recollections of wild life" in st. nicholas, and his stories of "wild animals" in harper, have entertained thousands of juvenile as well as adult readers. his first book, "indian boyhood," which appeared in , has passed through several editions, and met with hearty appreciation. "red hunters and the animal people," published in , bids fair to be, at least, equally popular. during the last two years, he has lectured in many towns from maine to california and he is welcomed everywhere. his specialty is the customs, laws, religion, etc., of the sioux. witty, fluent, intellectual, trained in both methods of education, he is eminently fitted to explain, in an inimitable and attractive manner, the customs, beliefs and superstitions of the indian. he describes not only the life and training of the boy, but the real indian as no white man could possibly do. he brings out strongly the red man's wit, music, poetry and eloquence. he also explains graphically from facts gained from his own people, the great mystery of the battle of the little big horn in which the gallant custer and brave men went to their bloody death. he was married in at new york city, to miss elaine goodale, a finely cultured young lady from massachusetts, herself a poetess and prose writer of more than ordinary ability. they have lived very happily together ever since and are the parents of five lovely children. they have lived in washington and st. paul and are now residents of amherst, massachusetts. whether in his physician's office, in his study, on the lecture platform, in the press or in his own home, dr. charles alexander eastman is a most attractive personality. ix john _the beloved of the sioux nation_ rev. john p. williamson, d.d., of greenwood, south dakota, was born in the month of october, , in one of joseph renville's log cabins, with dirt roof and no floor; and was the first white child born in minnesota, outside of the soldier's families at fort snelling. his father, the rev. thomas s. williamson. m.d., was the first ordained missionary appointed to labor among the sioux indians. he came out to the new northwest on an exploring expedition in , visiting the indian camps at wabawsha, red wing, kaposia, and others. he returned in the spring of , with his family and others who were appointed. after the arrival of this missionary party, dr. williamson and his colleagues, lived and labored continuously among the indians the remainder of their lives. their work for the master has not suffered any interruption, but is still carried on successfully and vigorously by their successors. john p. williamson grew up in the midst of the indians. he mastered the sioux language in early boyhood. as a lad, he had the present sites of minneapolis and st. paul for his playgrounds and little indian lads for his playmates. among these, was little crow, who afterwards became infamous in his savage warfare, against the defenseless settlers in western minnesota, in . he was early dedicated to the work of the gospel ministry. in his young manhood he was sent to ohio, for his education. in , he graduated at marietta college, and in , at lane seminary, cincinnati. in he was licensed by dakota (indian) presbytery, and ordained, by the same body, in . the degree of d.d. was conferred upon him by yankton, (s.d.) college in . he recognized no call to preach the gospel save to the sioux indians, and for forty-six years, he has given his whole life zealously to this great work. he has thrown his whole life unreservedly into it. and he has accomplished great things for the master and the tribe to which he has ministered. in he established a mission and organized a presbyterian church of twelve members at red wood agency on the minnesota. these were both destroyed in the outbreak two years later. he spent the winter of - , in evangelistic work, among the sioux, in the prison-camp at fort snelling, where , were gathered under military guard. an intense religious interest sprung up amongst them and continued for months. young dr. williamson so ministered unto them, that the whole camp was reached and roused, and the major part of the adults were led to christ. many, including scores of the children of the believers, were baptized. a presbyterian congregation of more than one hundred communicants was organized. this church was afterwards united with the church of the prison-pen, at crow creek, nebraska. in , he was appointed superintendent of presbyterian missions among the sioux indians. he has ever abounded in self-sacrificing and successful labors among this tribe. he has organized nineteen ( ) congregations and erected twenty-three ( ) church edifices. in twenty-three years he has traveled two hundred thousand miles in the prosecution of these arduous labors. the number of converts cannot be reckoned up. in , he was married to miss sarah a. vannice. to them there have been born four sons and three daughters, who are still living. in he established the yankton mission, which has ever since been a great center, moral and spiritual, to a vast region. at the same time he established his home at greenwood, south dakota, and from that, as his mission headquarters, he has gone to and from in his great missionary tours throughout the dakota land. he has, also, abounded in literary labors. for sixteen years he was the chief editor of "iapi oayi," an indian weekly. in , he published "powa wow-spi," an indian spelling book, and in , a collection of dakota hymns. his greatest literary work, however, was an edition of the "dakota dictionary," in , and other later editions. he has won the affections of the whole sioux nation. they bow willingly to his decisions, and follow gladly his counsels. to them, he is a much greater man than president roosevelt. while he has passed the limit of his three-score years and ten--forty-six of them in frontier service--his bow still abides in strength, and he still abounds in manifold labors. he is still bringing forth rich fruitage in his old age. every white dweller among the indians is known by some special cognomen. his is simply "john." and when it is pronounced, by a sioux indian as a member of the tribe always does it so lovingly, all who hear it know he refers to "john, the beloved of the sioux nation." x the martyrs of old st. joe. one of the most touching tragedies recorded in the annals of the new northwest, was enacted in the sixth decade of the nineteenth century, on the borders of prince rupert's land and the louisiana purchase (now manitoba and north dakota). it is a picturesque spot, where the pembina river cuts the international boundary line in its course to the southeast to join the red river of the north in its course to hudson's bay. sixty years ago, in this place, encircled by the wood-crowned mountain and the forest-lined river and prairies, rich as the gardens of the gods, there stood a village and trading post of considerable importance, named after the patron saint of the roman catholic church, in its midst--st. joseph--commonly called st. joe. it was a busy, bustling town, with a mixed population of , . most of these dwelt in tents of skin. there were, also, two or three large trading posts and thirty houses, built of large, hewn timbers mudded smoothly within and without and roofed with shingles. some of these were neat and pretty; one had window-shutters. it was the center of an extensive fur trade with the indian tribes of the missouri river. many thousands of buffalo and other skins were shipped annually to st. paul in carts. sometimes a train of four hundred of these wooden carts started together for st. paul, a distance of four hundred miles. but old things have passed away. the village of old st. joe is now marked only by some cellar excavations. it possesses, however, a sad interest as the scene of the martyrdom of protestant missionaries on this once wild frontier, then so far removed from the abodes of civilization. james tanner was a converted half-breed, who with his wife labored, in , as a missionary at lake winnibogosh, minnesota. his father had been stolen, when a lad, from his kentucky home, by the indians. near the close of he visited a brother in the pembina region. he became so deeply interested in the ignorant condition of the people there, that he made a tour of the east in their behalf. he visited new york, washington and other cities, and awakened considerable interest in behalf of the natives of this region. while east he became a member of the baptist church. he returned to st. joe, in , accompanied by a young man named benjamin terry, of st. paul, to open a mission among the pembina chippewas and half breeds under the auspices of the baptist missionary society. terry was very slight and youthful in appearance, quiet and retiring in disposition and was long spoken of, by the half-breeds, as "tanner's boy." they visited the red river (selkirk) settlement (now winnipeg). while there, terry wooed and won one of the daughters of the selkirk settlers, a dark-eyed handsome scotch lass, to whom he expected to be married in a few months. but, alas, ere the close of summer, he was waylaid, by a savage sioux, shot full of arrows, his arm broken and his entire scalp carried away. mr. tanner secured permission to bury him in the roman catholic cemetery in the corner reserved for suicides, heretics and unbaptized infants. thus ended in blood, the first effort to establish a protestant mission in the pembina country. june , , a band of presbyterian missionaries arrived at st. joe. it was composed of the reverends alonzo barnard and david brainard spencer, their wives and children. they came in canoes and in carts from red and cass lakes, minnesota, where for ten years, they had labored as missionaries among the chippewas. they removed to st. joe, at the earnest request of governor alexander ramsey, of minnesota, and others familiar with their labors and the needs of the pembina natives. mrs. barnard's health soon gave way. her husband removed her to the selkirk settlement, one hundred miles to the north, for medical aid. her health continued to fail so rapidly that by her strong desire they attempted to return to st. joe. the first night they encamped in a little tent on the bleak northern plain in the midst of a fierce windstorm. the chilling winds penetrated the folds of the tent. all night long the poor sufferer lay in her husband's arms, moaning constantly: "hold me close; oh, hold me close." they were compelled to return to the settlement, where after a few days more of intense suffering, she died, oct. , , of quick consumption, caused by ten years exposure and suffering for the welfare of the indians. mrs. barnard was first interred at the selkirk settlement, in prince rupert's land (now manitoba). in the absence of other clergymen, mr. barnard was compelled to officiate at his wife's funeral himself. in obedience to her dying request, mrs. barnard's remains were removed to st. joe and re-interred in the yard of the humble mission cabin, dec. , . in , mr. barnard visited ohio to provide a home for his children. on his return, at belle prairie, minnesota, midway between st. paul and st. joe, he met mr. spencer and his three motherless children, journeying four hundred miles by ox-cart to st. paul. there in the rude hovel in which they spent the night, mr. barnard baptized mr. spencer's infant son, now an honored minister of the congregational church in wisconsin. on his arrival at st. joe mr. barnard found another mound close by the grave of his beloved wife. the story of this third grave is, also, written in blood. it was aug. , . the hostile sioux were infesting the pembina region. only the previous month, had mrs. spencer written to a far distant friend in india: "last december the lord gave us a little son, whose smiling face cheers many a lonely hour." on this fatal night, she arose to care for this darling boy. a noise at the window attracted her attention. she withdrew the curtain to ascertain the cause. three indians stood there with loaded rifles and fired. three bullets struck her, two in her throat and one in her breast. she neither cried out nor spoke, but reeling to her bed, with her babe in her arms, knelt down, where she was soon discovered by her husband, when he returned from barricading the door. she suffered intensely for several hours and then died. and till daybreak mr. spencer sat in a horrid dream, holding his dead wife in his arms. the baby lay in the rude cradle near by, bathed in his mother's blood. the two elder children stood by terrified and weeping. such was the distressing scene which the neighbors beheld in the morning, when they came with their proffers of sympathy and help. the friendly half-breeds came in, cared for the poor children and prepared the dead mother for burial. a half-breed dug the grave and nailed a rude box together for a coffin. then with a bleeding heart, the sore bereaved man consigned to the bosom of the friendly earth the remains of his murdered wife. within the past thirty years civilization has rapidly taken possession of this lovely region. christian homes and christian churches cover these rich prairies. the prosperous and rapidly growing village of walhalla (paradise) nestles in the bosom of this lovely vale and occupies contentedly the former site of old st. joe. june , , one of the most interesting events in the history of north dakota occurred at the presbyterian cemetery, which crowns the brow of the mountain, overlooking walhalla. it was the unveiling of the monument erected by the woman's synodical missionary society of north dakota, which they had previously erected to the memory of sarah philena barnard and cornelia spencer, two of the three "martyrs of st. joe." the monument is a beautiful and appropriate one of white marble. the broken pieces of old stone formerly placed on mrs. barnard's grave, long scattered and lost, were discovered, cemented together and placed upon her new grave. the rev. alonzo barnard, seventy-one years of age, accompanied by his daughter, was present. standing upon the graves of the martyrs, with tremulous voice and moistened eyes, he gave to the assembled multitude a history of their early missionary toil in the abodes of savagery. it was a thrilling story, the interest intensified by the surroundings. the half-breed women who prepared mrs. spencer's body for the burial and who washed and dressed the little babe after his baptism in his mother's blood, were present. the same half-breed who dug mrs. spencer's grave in dug the new grave in . several pioneers familiar with the facts of the tragedy at the time of its occurrence were also present. "the martyr's plot," the last resting place of these devoted servants of our lord jesus christ, is a beautiful spot, on the hillside, in the presbyterian cemetery at walhalla. it is enclosed by a neat fence, and each of these three martyr's graves is marked by a white stone, with an appropriate inscription. the rev. alonzo barnard retired to michigan, where he gave five years of missionary toil to the chippewas at omene and many other years of helpful service to the white settlers at other points in that state. in he retired from the work of the active ministry and spent the remainder of his days with his children. he died april , , at pomona, michigan, at the home of his son, dr. james barnard, in the eighty-eighth year of his age. there is a large and flourishing episcopal indian church at leech lake, minnesota, the scene of mr. barnard's labors from - . the rector is the rev. charles t. wright, a full-blood chippewa. he is the eldest son of that famous chieftain, gray cloud and is now himself, chief of all the chippewas. "thus one soweth and another reapeth." the great sioux trail _a story of mountain and plain_ by joseph a. altsheler author of "the rulers of the lakes," "the shadow of the north," etc. [illustration] illustrated by charles l. wrenn d. appleton and company new york london copyright, , by d. appleton and company printed in the united states of america the great sioux trail by joseph a. altsheler the civil war series the guns of bull run the guns of shiloh the scouts of stonewall the sword of antietam the star of gettysburg the rock of chickamaugua the shades of the wilderness the tree of appomattox the world war series the guns of europe the forest of swords the hosts of the air the young trailers series the young trailers the forest runners the keepers of the trail the eyes of the woods the free rangers the riflemen of the ohio the scouts of the valley the border watch the texan series the texan star the texan scouts the texan triumph the french and indian war series the hunters of the hills the shadow of the north the rulers of the lakes books not in series the great sioux trail apache gold the quest of the four the last of the chiefs in circling camps a soldier of manhattan the sun of saratoga a herald of the west the wilderness road my captive ---------- d. appleton and company, new york [illustration: a stroke of a great paw and the rifle was dashed from the hands of the old chief. [page .]] foreword "the great sioux trail" is the first of a group of romances concerned with the opening of the great west just after the civil war, and having a solid historical basis. they will be connected by the presence of leading characters in all the volumes, but every one will be in itself a complete story. contents chapter page i the sioux warning ii the narrow escape iii the little giant iv the flight v the white dome vi the outlaw vii the beaver hunter viii the mountain ram ix the buffalo march x the war club's fall xi the young slave xii the captive's rise xiii the reward of merit xiv the dreadful night list of illustrations a stroke of a great paw and the rifle was dashed from the hands of the old chief _frontispiece_ facing page the rifle sprang to his shoulder, a jet of flame leaped from the muzzle the body of a warrior shot downward, striking on the ledges "if he ever looks upon a white face again it will be the face of one who is a friend of the sioux" the great sioux trail chapter i the sioux warning the scene cast a singular spell, uncanny and exciting, over young clarke. the sweep of plains on one side, and on the other the dim outline of mountains behind which a blood-red sun was sinking, gave it a setting at once majestic and full of menace. the horizon, as the twilight spread over its whole surface, suggested the wilderness, the unknown and many dangers. the drama passing before his eyes deepened and intensified his feeling that he was surrounded by the unusual. the fire burned low, the creeping dusk reached the edge of the thin forest to the right, and soon, with the dying of the flames, it would envelop the figures of both sioux and soldiers. will's gaze had roved from one to another, but now it remained fixed upon the chief, who was speaking with all the fire, passion and eloquence so often characteristic of the great indian leaders. he was too far away to hear the words, as only the officers of the troop were allowed at the conference, but he knew they were heavy with import, and the pulses in his temples beat hard and fast. "who is the indian chief?" he said to boyd, the scout and hunter, who stood by his side. "he seems to be a man." "he is," replied boyd with emphasis. "he's a man, and a great man, too. that's red cloud, the war chief of the ogalala sioux, mahpeyalute, they call him in their language, one of the bravest warriors that ever lived, and a thinker, as well. if he'd been born white he'd be governor of a big state by this time, and later on he might become president of 'em all." "i've heard of him. he's one of our most dangerous enemies." "so he is, will. it's because he thinks we're going to spread over the sioux country--in which he's right--and not because he hates us as men. i've known him in more peaceful times, and we've done each other good turns, but under that black hair of his beats a brain that can look far ahead and plan. he means to close to us the main trail through the sioux country, and the sioux range running halfway across the continent, and halfway from canada to mexico. mountain and plain alike are theirs." "i can't keep from having a certain sympathy with him, jim. it's but natural that they should want to keep the forests and the great buffalo ranges." "i share their feelings, too, though white i am, and to the white people i belong. i hate to think of the continent ploughed into fields everywhere, and with a house always in sight. anyhow, it won't happen in my time, because in the west here there are so many mountains and the sioux and cheyennes are so warlike that the plough will have a hard time getting in." "and the country is so vast, too. but watch red cloud. he points to the west! now he drops his hand, doubles his fist and stretches his arm across the way. what does it mean, jim?" "it's a gesture telling captain kenyon that the road is barred to soldiers, settlers, hunters, all of us. far to the south we may still follow the gold trails to california, but here at the edge of this mighty wilderness we must turn back. the nations of the dakota, whom we call the sioux, have said so." mahpeyalute lowered his arm, which he had thrust as a barrier across the way, but his fist remained clenched, and raising it he shook it again. the sun had sunk over the dim mountains in the north and the burning red there was fading. all the thin forest was clothed now in dusk, and the figure of the chief himself grew dimmer. yet the twilight enlarged him and lent to him new aspects of power and menace. as he made his gesture of defiance, young clarke, despite his courage, felt the blood grow chill in his veins. it seemed at the moment in this dark wilderness that the great indian leader had the power to make good his threats and close the way forever to the white race. the other indians, ten in number, stood with their arms folded, and they neither stirred nor spoke. but they listened with supreme attention to every word of their redoubtable champion, the great mahpeyalute. will knew that the sioux were subdivided into nations or tribes, and he surmised that the silent ones were their leaders, although he knew well enough that red cloud was an ogalala, and that the ogalalas were merely one of the tetons who, federated with the others, made up the mighty sioux nation. but the chief, by the force of courage and intellect, had raised himself from a minor place to the very headship. red cloud was about fifty years old, and, while at times he wore the white man's apparel, at least in part, he was now clothed wholly in indian attire. a blanket of dark red was looped about his shoulders, and he carried it with as much grace as a roman patrician ever wore the toga. his leggings and moccasins of fine tanned deerskin were decorated beautifully with beads, and a magnificent war bonnet of feathers, colored brilliantly, surmounted his thick, black hair. he was truly a leader of wild and barbaric splendor in surroundings that fitted him. but it was not his tall, powerful figure nor his dress that held will's gaze. it was his strong face, fierce, proud and menacing, like the sculptured relief of some old assyrian king, and in very truth, with high cheek bones and broad brow, he might have been the reincarnation of some old asiatic conqueror. the young officer seemed nervous and doubtful. he switched the tops of his riding boots with a small whip, and then looked into the fierce eyes of the chief, as if to see that he really meant what he said. kenyon was fresh from the battlefields of the great civil war, where he had been mentioned specially in orders more than once for courage and intelligence, but here he felt himself in the presence of an alarming puzzle. his mission was to be both diplomat and warrior. he was not sure where the duties of diplomat ceased and those of warrior began. meanwhile his protagonist, the indian chief, had no doubt at all about his own intentions and was stating them with a clearness that could not be mistaken. captain kenyon continued to switch his boot uneasily and to take a nervous step back and forth, his figure outlined against the fire. young clarke felt a certain sympathy for him, placed without experience in a situation so delicate and so full of peril. the ogalala stopped talking and looked straight at the officer, standing erect and waiting, as if he expected a quick answer, and only the kind of answer, too, that he wished. meanwhile there was silence, save for an occasional crackle of burning wood. both young clarke and the hunter, boyd, felt with all the intensity of conviction that it was a moment charged with fate. the white people had come from the atlantic to the great plains, but the mighty sioux nation now barred the way to the whole northwest, it was not a barrier to be passed easily. will, as he said, understood, too, the feelings of mahpeyalute. had he been an ogalala like the chief he would have felt as the ogalala felt. yet, whatever happened, he and boyd meant to go on, because they had a mission that was calling them all the time. the captain at last said a few words, and red cloud, who had been motionless while he waited, took from under his blanket a pipe with a long curved stem. will was surprised. he knew something of indian custom, but he had not thought that the fierce ogalala chief would propose to smoke a pipe of peace at a time like the present. nor was any such thought in the mind of red cloud. instead, he suddenly struck the stem of the pipe across the trunk of a sapling, breaking it in two, and as the bowl fell upon the ground he put his foot upon it, shattering it. then, raising his hand in a salute to captain kenyon, he turned upon his heel and walked away, all the other indians following him without a word. at the edge of the thin forest they mounted their ponies and rode out of sight in the darkness. captain kenyon stood by the fire, gazing thoughtfully into the dying coals, while the troopers, directed by the sergeants, were spreading the blankets for the night. toward the north, where the foothills showed dimly, a wolf howled. the lone, sinister note seemed to arouse the officer, who gave some orders to the men and then turned to meet the hunter and the lad. "i've no doubt you surmised what the indian meant," he said to boyd. "i fancy he was telling you all the trails through the northwest were closed to the white people," said the hunter. "yes, that was it, and his warning applied to hunters, scouts and gold-seekers as well as settlers. he told me that the sioux would not have their hunting grounds invaded, and the buffalo herds on which they live destroyed." "what he told you, captain, is in the heart of every warrior of their nation. the northern cheyennes, a numerous and warlike tribe, feel the same way, also. the army detachments are too few and too scattered to hold back the white people, and a great and terrible war is coming." "at least," said captain kenyon, "i must do my duty as far as i may. i can't permit you and your young friend, mr. clarke, to go into the sioux country. the indian chief, red cloud, showed himself to be a fierce and resolute man and you would soon lose your lives." will's face fell, but the hunter merely shrugged his great shoulders. "but you'll permit us to pass the night in your camp, captain?" he said. "of course. gladly. you're welcome to what we have. i'd not drive anybody away from company and fire." "we thank you, captain kenyon," said will warmly. "it's a genuine pleasure to us to be the guests of the army when we're surrounded by such a wilderness." their horses were tethered nearby with those of the troop, and securing their blankets from their packs they spread them on dead leaves near the fire. "you'll take breakfast with us in the morning," said captain kenyon hospitably, "and then i'll decide which way to go, and what task we're to undertake. i wish you'd join us as scout, hunter and guide, mr. boyd. we need wisdom like yours, and mr. clarke could help us, too." "i've been independent too long," replied the hunter lightly. "i've wandered mountain and plain so many years at my own free will that i couldn't let myself be bound now by military rules. but i thank you for the compliment, just the same, captain kenyon." he and will clarke lay down side by side with their feet to the fire, their blankets folded about them rather closely, as the air, when the night advanced and the coals died completely, was sure to grow cold. will was troubled, as he was extremely anxious to go on at once, but he reflected that jim boyd was one of the greatest of all frontiersmen and he would be almost sure to find a way. summoning his will, he dismissed anxiety from his mind and lay quite still, seeking sleep. the camp was now quiet and the fire was sinking rapidly. sentinels walked on every side, but will could not see them from where he lay. a light wind blowing down from the mountains moaned through the thin forest. clouds came up from the west, blotting out the horizon and making the sky a curving dome of blackness. young william clarke felt that it was good to have comrades in the immense desolation, and it strengthened his spirit to see the soldiers rolled in their blankets, their feet to the dying coals. yet his trouble about the future came back. he and boyd were in truth and reality prisoners. captain kenyon was friendly and kind, but he would not let them go on, because the sioux and cheyennes had barred all the trails and the formidable red cloud had given a warning that could not be ignored. making another effort, he dismissed the thought a second time and just as the last coals were fading into the common blackness he fell asleep. he was awakened late in the night by a hand pushing gently but insistently against his shoulder. he was about to sit up abruptly, but the voice of boyd whispered in his ear: "be very careful! make no noise! release yourself from your blanket and then do what i say!" the hand fell away from his shoulder, and, moving his head a little, clarke looked carefully over the camp. the coals where the fire had been were cold and dead, and no light shone there. the figures of the sleeping soldiers were dim in the dusk, but evidently they slept soundly, as not one of them stirred. he heard the regular breathing of those nearest to him, and the light step of the sentinel just beyond a clump of dwarf pines. "sit up now," whispered boyd, "and when the sentinel passes a little farther away we'll creep from the camp. be sure you don't step on a stick or trip over anything. keep close behind me. the night's as black as pitch, and it's our one chance to escape from friends who are too hospitable." will saw the hunter slowly rise to a stooping position, and he did likewise. then when the sound of the sentinel's step was lost at the far end of his beat, boyd walked swiftly away from the camp and will followed on his trail. the lad glanced back once, and saw that the dim figures by the dead fire did not stir. weary and with the soothing wind blowing over them, they slept heavily. it was evident that the two who would go their own way had nothing to fear from them. there was now no bar to their departure, save the unhappy chance of being seen by the sentinel. a rod from the camp and boyd lay flat upon the ground, will, without the need of instruction, imitating him at once. the sentinel was coming back, but like his commander he was a soldier of the civil war, used to open battlefields, and he did not see the two shadows in the dusk. he reached the end of his beat and turning went back again, disappearing once more beyond the stunted pines. "now's our time," whispered boyd, and rising he walked away swiftly but silently, will close behind him. three hundred yards, and they stopped by the trunk of a mountain oak. "we're clear of the soldiers now," said the hunter, "but we must have our horses. without 'em and the supplies they carry we'd be lost. i don't mean anything against you, will. you're a likely lad and you learn as fast as the best of 'em, but it's for me to cut out the horses and bring 'em here. do you think you can wait patiently at this place till i come with 'em?" "no, jim, i can't wait patiently, but i can wait impatiently. i'll make myself keep still." "that's good enough. on occasion i can be as good a horse thief as the best sioux or crow or cheyenne that ever lived, only it's our own horses that i'm going to steal. they've a guard, of course, but i'll slip past him. now use all your patience, will." "i will," said the lad, as he leaned against the trunk of the oak. then he became suddenly aware that he no longer either saw or heard boyd. the hunter had vanished as completely and as silently as if he had melted into the air, but will knew that he was going toward the thin forest, where the horses grazed or rested at the end of their lariats. all at once he felt terribly alone. he heard nothing now but the moaning of the wind that came down from the far mountains. the camp was gone, boyd was gone, the horses were invisible, and he was the only human being in the gigantic and unknown northwest. the air felt distinctly colder and he shivered a little. it was not fear, it was merely the feeling that he was cut off from the race like a shipwrecked sailor on a desert island. he took himself metaphorically by the shoulders and gave his body a good shake. boyd would be coming back soon with the horses, and then he would have the best of comradeship. but the hunter was a long time in returning, a half hour that seemed to will a full two hours, but at last, when he had almost given him up, he heard a tread approaching. he had experience enough to know that the sound was made by hoofs, and that boyd was successful. he realized now, so great was his confidence in the hunter's skill, that failure had not entered his mind. the sound came nearer, and it was made by more than one horse. then the figure of the hunter appeared in the darkness and behind him came four horses, the two that they rode, and the extra animals for the packs. "splendidly done!" exclaimed the lad. "but i knew you could do it!" "it was about as delicate a job as i ever handled," said boyd, with a certain amount of pride in his tone, "but by waiting until i had a good chance i was able to cut 'em out. it was patience that did it. i tell you, lad, patience is about the greatest quality a man can have. it's the best of all winners." "i suppose that's the reason, jim, it's so hard to exercise it at times. although i had nothing to do and took none of the risk, it seemed to me you were gone several hours." boyd laughed a little. "it proves what i told you," he said, "but we want to get away from here as quick as we can now. you lead two of the horses, i'll lead the other two, and we won't mount for a while yet. i don't think they can hear us at the camp, but we won't give 'em a chance to do so if we can help it." he trod a course straight into the west, the ground, fortunately, being soft and the hoofs of the horses making but little sound. although the darkness hung as thick and close as ever, the skillful woodsman found the way instinctively, and neither stumbled nor trod upon the fallen brushwood. young clarke, just behind him, followed in his tracks, also stepping lightly and he knew enough not to ask any questions, confident that boyd would take them wherever they wished to go. it was a full two hours before the hunter stopped and then they stood on a low hill covered but thinly with the dwarfed trees of that region. the night was lightening a little, a pallid moon and sparse stars creeping out in the heavens. by the faint light young clarke saw only a wild and rugged country, low hills about them and in the north the blur that he knew to be mountains. "we can stand up straight now and talk in our natural voices," said boyd, in a clear, full tone, "and right glad i am, too. i hate to steal away from friends, as if you were running from the law. that captain kenyon is a fine fellow, though he and his men don't know much about this wild country." "isn't this about the same direction that red cloud and his warriors took?" asked will. "not far from it, but we won't run into 'em. they're miles and miles ahead. there's a big sioux village two or three days' journey farther on, and it's a certainty that their ponies are headed straight for it." "and we won't keep going for the same village?" the big hunter laughed infectiously. "not if we know what is good for us," he replied, "and we think we do. our trail leads far to the north of the sioux town, and, when we start again, we'll make an abrupt change in our course. there's enough moonlight now for you to see the face of your watch, and tell me the time, will." "half-past one, jim." "and four or five hours until morning. we'll move on again. there's a chance that some pursuing soldier might find us here, one chance in a thousand, so to speak, but slim as it is it is well to guard against it. mount your horse. there's no reason now why we shouldn't ride." will sprang gladly into the saddle, leading his pack-animal by the lariat, and once more followed boyd, who rode down the hill into a wide and shallow valley, containing a scattered forest of good growth. boyd's horse raised his head suddenly and neighed. "what does that mean?" asked will, startled. "sioux?" "no," replied the hunter. "i know this good and faithful brute so well that he and i can almost talk together. i've learned the meaning of every neigh he utters and the one you have just heard indicates that he has smelled water. in this part of the world water is something that you must have on your mind most of the time, and his announcement is welcome." "if there's a stream, do we camp by it?" "we certainly do. we won't turn aside from the luck that fortune puts in our way. we're absolutely safe from the soldiers now. they can't trail us in the night, and we've come many miles." they descended a long slope and came into the valley, finding the grass there abundant, and, flowing down the centre, a fine brook of clear cold water, from which horses and horsemen drank eagerly. then they unsaddled and prepared for rest and food. "is there no danger here from the sioux?" asked will. "i think not," replied the hunter. "i've failed to find a pony track, and i'm quite sure i saw a buck among the trees over there. if the indians had passed this way there would have been no deer to meet our eyes, and you and i, will, my lad, will take without fear the rest we need so much." "i see that the brook widens and deepens into a pool a little farther on, and as i'm caked with dust and dirt i think i'll take a bath." "go ahead. i've never heard that a man was less brave or less enduring because he liked to keep clean. you'll feel a lot better when it's done." will took off his clothes and sprang into the pool which had a fine, sandy bottom. the chill at once struck into his marrow. he had not dreamed that it was so cold. the hunter laughed when he saw him shivering. "that water comes down from the high mountains," he said, "and a few degrees more of cold would turn it into ice. but splash, will! splash! and you'll feel fine!" young clarke obeyed and leaped and splashed with great energy, until his circulation grew vigorous and warm. when he emerged upon the bank his whole body was glowing and he felt a wonderful exhilaration, both physical and mental. he ran up and down the bank until he was dry, and then resumed his clothing. "you look so happy now that i'll try it myself," said boyd, and he was soon in the water, puffing and blowing like a big boy. when he had resumed his deerskins it was almost day. a faint line of silver showed in the east, and above them the sky was gray with the coming dawn. "i'll light a little fire and make coffee," said boyd, "but the rest of the breakfast must be cold. still, a cup of coffee on a chill morning puts life into a man." will, with the zeal characteristic of him, was already gathering dead brushwood, and boyd soon boiled the grateful brown liquid, of which they drank not one cup but two each, helping out the breakfast with crackers and strips of dried beef. then the pot and the cups were returned to the packs and the hunter carefully put out the fire. "it's a good thing we loaded those horses well," he said, "because we'll need everything we have. now you roll up in your blanket, will, and get the rest of your sleep." "and you feel sure there is no danger? i don't want to leave all the responsibility to you. i'd like to do what i can." "don't bother yourself about it. the range of the sioux is farther west mostly, and it's not likely we could find a better place than this for our own little private camp." the coming of a bright, crisp day removed from will the feeling of desolation that the wilderness had created in his mind. apprehension and loneliness disappeared with the blackness of the night. he was with one of the best scouts and hunters in the west, and the sun was rising upon a valley of uncommon beauty. all about him the trees grew tall and large, without undergrowth, the effect being that of a great park, with grass thick and green, upon which the horses were grazing in deep content. the waters of the brook sang a little song as they hurried over the gravel, and the note of everything was so strongly of peace that the lad, wearied by their flight and mental strain, fell asleep in a few minutes. it was full noon when he awoke, and, somewhat ashamed of himself, he sprang up, ready to apologize, but the hunter waved a deprecatory hand. "you didn't rest too long," said boyd. "you needed it. as for me, i'm seasoned and hard, adapted by years of practice to the life i lead. it's nothing to me to pass a night without sleep, and to catch up later on. while you were lying there in your blanket i scouted the valley thoroughly, leaving the horses to watch over you. it's about two miles long and a mile broad. at the lower end the brook flows into a narrow chasm." "what did you find in the valley itself, jim?" "track of bear, deer, wolf and panther, but no sign of human being, white or red. it's certain that we're the only people in it, but if we need game we can find it. it's a good sign, showing that this part of the country has not been hunted over by the indians." "before long we'll have to replenish our food supply with game." "yes, that's certain. we want to draw as little on our flour and coffee as we can. we can do without 'em, but when you don't have 'em you miss 'em terribly." the stores had been heaped at the foot of a tree, while the pack horses, selected for their size and strength, nibbled at the rich grass. will contemplated the little mound of supplies with much satisfaction. they had not started upon the path of peril without due preparation. each carried a breech-loading, repeating rifle of the very latest make, a weapon yet but little known on the border. in the packs were two more rifles of the same kind, two double-barreled, breech-loading shotguns, thousands of cartridges, several revolvers, two strong axes, medicines, extra blankets, and, in truth, everything needed by a little army of two on the march. boyd, a man of vast experience in the wilderness, had selected the outfit and he was proud of its completeness. "don't you think, jim," said young clarke, "that you might take a little sleep this afternoon? you've just said that we've nothing to dread in the valley, and i can watch while you build yourself up." boyd gave him a quick but keen glance. he saw that the lad's pride was at stake, and that he was anxious to be trusted with an important task. looking at his alert face, and knowing his active intellect, the hunter knew that he would learn swiftly the ways of the wilderness. "a good idea," he said in tones seemingly careless. "i'll change my mind and take a nap. wake me up if you see strange signs or think anything is going to happen." without further word he spread his blanket on the leaves and in a minute or two was off to slumberland. will, full of pride, put his fine breech-loader over his shoulder and began his watch. the horses, having eaten their fill, were lying down in the grass, and his own nuzzled his hand as he stroked their noses. he walked some distance among the trees, and he was impressed more and more by the resemblance of the valley to a great park, a park hitherto untrodden by man. although he was not lonely or depressed now he felt very remote from civilization. the cities of the east, so far as his mind was concerned, were now on the other side of the world. the unknown, vast and interminable, had closed about him. yet he felt a momentary exultation. boyd and he would find a path through every peril. his walk brought him back to the edge of the brook, where for a little space thick bushes grew, and he heard a snarling growl, followed by a rush that could be made only by a heavy body. he started violently, the pulses beat hard in his temples and he promptly presented his rifle. then he laughed at himself. he caught a glimpse of a long, yellowish body and he knew it was a mountain lion, much more alarmed than he, and fleeing with all speed to the hills. he must be steadier of nerve and he gave himself a stern rebuke. farther down the valley the brook widened again into a deep pool, and in the water, as clear as silver, he saw fine mountain trout, darting here and there. if they stayed a day or two in the valley he would come and catch several of the big fellows, as they were well provided with fishing tackle, which boyd said would be a great resource, saving much ammunition. he went farther, and then climbed the hill which enclosed the valley on that side, obtaining from its crest a northern view of rolling plains, with the dim blue outline of the high mountains far beyond. he surmised that the group of hills in which they now lay was of limited area, and that when they continued their journey they must take once more to the plains, where they would be exposed to the view of roving sioux. his heart throbbed as he looked over that great open expanse, and realized anew the danger. the pocket in the hills in which they lay was surely a safe and comfortable place, and one need be in no hurry to abandon it. when he went back to the camp boyd was just awakening, and as he looked at will his eyes twinkled. "well, what did you find?" he asked. "anything besides tracks of animals?" "i found an animal himself," replied the lad. "i scared him up in the bushes at the brook's edge. it was a mountain lion and he ran away, just as i felt like doing at first." the hunter laughed with genuine pleasure. "i'm glad you kept down the feeling and didn't run," he said. "you'll get over such tremors in time. everybody feels 'em, no matter how brave, unless he has a lot of experience. now, since you've been scouting about, what do you think we ought to do?" "i looked from a hill and saw open plains, extending maybe forty or fifty miles. red cloud and his men may have gone that way and i'm in favor of giving 'em a good start. suppose we stay here another night and day and let 'em reach the mountains." "seems a good plan to me." "besides, there's some fish in a pool farther down that i want to catch." "that settles it. we stay. everything else must stand aside when a real fisherman wants to show what he can do." will took the fishing tackle from his pack, and returned in a short time with three splendid trout. it was now nearly sunset and boyd thought it safe to build a fire after dark and cook the catch. "i think there's no doubt that red cloud and his warriors are now a full day's journey ahead," he said, "but, as a wandering indian might come into the valley, we'll take no more chances than we can help." a low fire of dead sticks was lighted in a gulch, well screened by bushes, and the fish were broiled, proving very welcome, as they were the first warm food will and boyd had tasted since their flight from the troops. the hunter made coffee again, and they were well satisfied with their supper. "it's a good idea to help ourselves out with as much fish and game as we can," he said, "and it's likely that we can find plenty of it up here. the horses, too, have had all the grass they want and we'll tether 'em for the night, though there's not one chance in a thousand that they'll wander from the valley. animals have instinct, and if there's no powerful enemy near they always stay where food and water are to be had. i tell you what, will, if a man could only have all his own senses coupled with those of a deer or a wolf, what a mighty scout and hunter he could be. suppose you could smell a trail like a wolf, and then think about it like a man! maybe men did have those powers a hundred thousand years ago." "maybe they did, jim, but they didn't have rifles and all the modern weapons and tools that help us so much." "you're right, will. you can't have everything, all at the same time, and just now you and me are not so bad off, lying here comfortable and easy in our own particular valley, having just finished some fine trout that would have cost us four or five dollars in a fine new york restaurant, but for which we paid nothing." "you don't have any fear that the troops will come after us and make us go back?" "you can clear your mind of that trouble and keep it cleared. we're in the indian country, and captain kenyon has orders to make no invasion. so he can't pursue. missing us he'll just have to give us up as a bad job." "then we'll have only the indians to guard against, and your opinion, jim, that they're far ahead, seems mighty good to me. perhaps we ought to stay three or four days here." the hunter laughed. "i see you're falling in love with the valley," he said, "but maybe you're right. it will depend on circumstances. to-morrow we'll get out those big field glasses of yours, go to the highest hill, and examine all the country." "suppose it should rain, jim. then we wouldn't think so much of our fine valley." "right you are, will. but lucky for us, it doesn't rain much up here at this time of the year, and we can call ourselves safe on that score. full night is at hand, and there isn't a cloud in the heavens. we'll both sleep, and build up our nerves and strength." "don't we need to keep a watch?" "not now, i think, at least not either of our two selves. that horse of mine, that i ride, selim, is a sentinel of the first class. he's been with me so much and i've trained him so long that he's sure to give an alarm if anything alarming comes, though he'll pay no attention to small game, or even to a deer." selim was at the end of a long lariat about fifty feet away, and having eaten for a long time and having rested fully he had taken position as if he realized thoroughly his duties as watcher of the little camp. he was a powerful bay with brilliant, alert eyes that young clarke saw shining through the dusk, and he walked slowly back and forth within the range allowed by his tether. "didn't i tell you?" said boyd, with delight. "look at him now, taking up his duties as a man. that horse can do everything but talk, and for that reason, while he does many wise things, he never says a foolish one. doesn't he fill you chock full of confidence, will?" "he certainly does, jim. i know he'll be a much better sentinel than i could make of myself. i'll go to sleep, sure that we'll be well protected." although the hunter found sleep soon, will, who did not need it so badly, lay awake long and he was interested in watching selim, who was justifying his master's praise. the horse, for all the world like a vigilant sentinel, walked back and forth, and whenever his head was turned toward the little camp the lad saw the great eyes shining. "good selim!" he said to himself. "good and watchful selim!" in all the immensity and loneliness of the wilderness he felt himself drawn to the animals, at least to those that were not beasts of prey. it was true not only of selim but of the other horses that they could do everything but talk, and they were the best friends of boyd and himself. his trust in the sentinel now absolute, he followed boyd into peaceful oblivion, and he did not come out of it until dawn. chapter ii the narrow escape when he awoke a sun of great brilliancy was shining, and over him arched the high skies of the great west. the air was thin and cool, easy to breathe and uplifting, and in the bracing morning he did not feel the loneliness and immensity of the wilderness. boyd had already built a little fire among the bushes, and was warming some strips of dried beef over the flames. "here's your breakfast, will," he said. "beef, a few crackers, and water. coffee would taste mighty good, but we can't afford to be taking it every morning, or we'd soon use up all we have. this is one of the mornings we skip it." "i can stand it if you can," said will cheerfully, "and it seems to me we ought to be saving our other stores, too. you'll have to kill a deer or a buffalo soon, jim." "not until we leave the valley. now fall on, and when we finish the beef we'll take another look at that map of yours." they ate quickly and when they were done will produced from an inside pocket of his waistcoat, where he always carried it, the map which was his most precious possession. it was on parchment, with all the lines very distinct, and the two bent over it and studied it, as they had done so often before. it showed the mississippi, flowing almost due south from minnesota, and the missouri, which was in reality the upper mississippi, thrusting its mighty arm far out into the unknown wilderness of the northwest. it showed its formation by the meeting of the jefferson, the madison and the gallatin, but these three rivers themselves were indicated by vague and faint traces. extensive dark spaces meant high mountains. "my father served in the northwest before the great civil war," said will, telling it for the fiftieth time, "and he was a man of inquiring mind. if he was in a country he always wished to know all about it that was to be known, particularly if it happened to be a wild region. he had the mind of a geographer and explorer, and the vast plains and huge mountains up here fascinated him. if there was a chance to make a great journey to treat with the indians or to fight them he always took it." "and he'd been in california in ' ," said boyd, saying, like will, what he had said fifty times before. "it was there i first met him, and a fine, upstanding young officer he was." the lad sighed, and for a moment or two his sorrow was so deep that it gave him an actual thrill of physical pain. "that's so, jim. i've often heard him speak of the first time he saw you," he resumed. "he was tempted to resign and hunt gold in california with the crowd, and he did have some experience in the mines and workings there, but he concluded, at last, to remain in the army, and was finally sent into the northwest with his command to deal with the indians." "and it was on the longest of his journeys into the mountains that he found it!" "yes. he noticed in a wild place among the ridges that the earth and rock formations were like those of california where the richest gold finds were made. he was alone at the time, though the rest of his command was only a few miles away, but he picked among the rocks and saw enough to prove that it was a mother lode, a great gold seam that would make many men millionaires. it was his intention to resign from the army, get permission from the sioux to come in, organize a company, and work what he meant to be the clarke mine. but you know what happened, jim." "aye, will, i do. by the time he got back to civilization the civil war broke like a storm, and he went east to fight for his country." "he could do no less, and he never thought of doing anything else. bearing in mind the risks of war, he drew this map which he carried on his person and which when he was dying he sent by you to me." "aye, will, he died in my arms at the wilderness before the bloody angle. it was a glorious death. he was one of the bravest men i ever saw. he gave me the map, told me to be sure to reach you when the war was over, and then help you to find the great mine." water came again into will's eyes. though the wounds of youth heal fast, the hurt made by the death of his heroic father had not yet healed. the hunter respected his emotion and was silent while he waited. "if we find the great mother lode and take out the treasure, part of it is to be yours, of course," said the boy. "you can pay me for my work and let it go at that. your father found the lode and the map telling the way to it, drawn by him, is yours now." "but we are partners. i could never get through these mountains and past the indian tribes without you. we're partners and there'll be plenty for all, if we ever get it. say right now, jim, that you share and share alike with me, or i won't be easy in my mind." "well, then, if you will have it that way. i suppose from all your brave father, the captain, said, there's so much of it we needn't trouble ourselves about the shares if we ever get there. it would be better if we had another trusty friend or two." "maybe we'll pick 'em up before we're through with this job, which is going to last a long time. i think we're still on the right trail, jim. this line leads straight west by north from the mississippi river far into western montana, where it strikes a narrow but deep mountain stream, which it crosses. then it goes over a ridge, leads by a lake which must be several miles long, goes over another ridge, crosses another stream, and then winding many ways, as if penetrating a maze, comes to a creek, with high mountains rising on either side of it. but the mine is there, jim, and we've got to follow all these lines, if we ever reach it." "we'll follow 'em, will, don't you worry about that. gold draws men anywhere. through blizzards, over mountains, across deserts, right into the face of the warlike indian tribes, and the danger of death can't break the spell. haven't i seen 'em going to california, men, women and children pressing on in the face of every peril that any army ever faced, and it's not likely, will, that you and me will turn back, when women and children wouldn't." "no, jim, we couldn't do that. we're in this hunt to stay, and i for one have the best of reasons for risking everything to carry it to a successful end." "and i'm with you because the northwest is my natural stamping ground, because i wouldn't mind being rich either, and because i like you, will. you're a good and brave boy, and if you can have the advantage of my teaching and training for about fifty years you'll make a first rate man." "thanks for the endorsement," laughed will, "and so we stick together 'till everything is over." "that's it." the boy continued to look at the map. "we've got a long journey over plains," he said, "but it seems to me that when we pass 'em we'll enter mountains without ending. all the west side of the map is covered with the black outlines that mean ridges and peaks." "it's right, too. i've been in that region. there are mountains, mountains everywhere, and then more mountains, not the puny mountains they have east of the missip, a mile, or at best, a mile and a half high, but crests shooting up so far that they hit right against the stars, and dozens and dozens of 'em, with snow fields and glaciers, and ice cold lakes here and there in the valleys. it's a grand country, a wonderful country, will, and there's no end to it. the old fur hunters knew about it, but they've always kept it as secret as they could, because they didn't want other people to learn about the beaver in there." "but we're going to visit it," exclaimed young clarke with enthusiasm, "and we're going to find something the fur hunters have never found. i feel, jim, that we're going to stand where my father stood and get out the gold." "i've feelings of that kind, too, but we've got to prop up feeling with a power of work and patience and danger, and it's likely too, will, that it will be a long time before we reach the end of the line on that map." young clarke folded up the parchment again and put it back in the inside pocket of his waistcoat, the hunter watching him and remarking: "be sure it's in your pocket tight and fast, will. we couldn't afford to lose it. maybe it would be a good idea to make a copy of it." "i could draw every line on it from memory." "that being the case we don't exactly need a duplicate, and, as you're a young fellow, will, and ought to work, you can take the horses down to the brook and let 'em drink." the lad was willing enough to do the task and the horses drank eagerly and long of the pure stream that had its source in melting snows. all four had been selected for size, power and endurance, and they were in splendid condition, the rich and abundant grass of the valley restoring promptly the waste of travel. boyd's great horse, selim, rubbed his nose in the most friendly manner against will's arm, and the lad returned his advances by stroking it. "i've heard the truth about you," he said. "you can do everything but talk, and you'll be a most valuable ally of ours on this expedition." the horse whinnied gently as if he understood and will, leading the four back to the rich grass, tethered them at the ends of their long lariats. "now, suppose you get out your big glasses," said the hunter, "and we'll go to the top of the hill for a look. the day is well advanced, the sky is brilliant and in the thin, clear atmosphere of the great plateau we'll be able to see a tremendous distance." will was proud of his glasses, an unusually fine and powerful pair, and from the loftiest crest they obtained a splendid view over the rolling plain. the hunter at his request took the first look. will watched him as he slowly moved the glasses from side to side, until they finally rested on a point at the right edge of the plain. "your gaze is fixed at last," the boy said. "what do you see?" "i wasn't sure at first, but i've made 'em out now." "something living then?" "buffaloes. they're miles and miles away, but they've been lying down and rolling and scratching themselves until they make the wallows you see all over the plains. it's not a big band, two or three hundred, perhaps. well, they don't mean anything to us, except a possible supply of provisions later on. no wonder the indians hate to see the buffaloes driven back, because the big beasts are breakfast, dinner and supper on the hoof to them." "and maybe to us, too, jim. i've an idea that we'll live a lot on the buffalo." "more'n likely. well, we could do worse." "what are you looking at now, jim? i see that you've shifted your objective." "yes, i've caught some moving black dots to the left of the herd. they're obscured a little by a swell, but they look to me like horsemen, sioux probably." "if so then they must be hunters, taking advantage of the swell to attack the buffalo herd." "good, sound reasoning. you're learning to think as a scout and hunter. yes, they're sioux, and they're aiming for the herd. now they've thrown out flankers, and they're galloping their ponies to the attack. there'll be plenty of good buffalo meat in some sioux village before long." "that means little to us, because after the hunt the warriors will pass on. what do you see elsewhere on the plain, jim?" "i can make out a trace of water. it's one of the little, shallow, sandy rivers, a long distance from here, but the presence of water is probably the reason why game is grazing in the neighborhood." "you don't see any more indians?" "no, will. to the west the horizon comes plumb in that direction are a long way off, which agrees with your map. but in the north the glasses have brought the ridges and peaks a sight nearer. they're all covered with forest, except the crests of some of the higher peaks, which are white with snow. i'm thinking, too, that in the woods at the bottom of one of the slopes i can see a trace of smoke rising. here you, will, you've uncommon keen eyes of your own. take the glasses and look! there, where the mountains seem to part and make a pass! is that smoke or is it just mist?" young clarke looked a long time. he had already learned from boyd not to advance an opinion until he had something with which to buttress it, and he kept his glasses glued upon the great cleft in the mountains, where the trees grew so thick and high. at last he saw a column of grayish vapor rising against the green leaves, and, following it with the glasses to its base, he thought he was able to trace the outlines of tepees. another and longer look and, being quite sure, he said: "there's an indian village in the pass, jim." "that's what i thought, but i wanted you to say so, too. now my last doubt is taken away. they're mountain sioux, of course. i had an idea that we could go through that way and then curve to the west, but since the village is there, maybe it will be better to strike out straight across the plains." "perhaps those buffalo hunters will come in here to jerk their meat. they know of the valley, of course. have you thought of that, jim?" "yes, i have, and it troubles me. it seems to me that dangers we didn't expect are gathering, and that we're about to be surrounded. maybe we'd better put the packs on the horses, and be ready to start to-night. what do you think?" "you know what's best, jim." "not always. we're full partners, now, and in all councils of war, though there are but two of us, both must speak." "then i'm for getting ready to leave to-night, as soon as it's dark. i suppose it's just chance, but enemies are converging on us. it's a fine valley, one that i could stay in a long time, but we'd better leave it." "as the two who make up the council are agreed that settles it. when the full dark comes we'll go." boyd, who resumed the glasses, turned them back on the buffalo hunters, saw them chase the game toward the valley, and then bring down a half-dozen. "they're nearer now to us than they are to the mountains," he said, "and they're sure to bring the meat in here, where they can hang it on the trees, or find plenty of firewood. if we had any doubts before, will, we've got an order now to go and not be slow about our going." they watched the indians a long time, and saw them cleaning and cutting up the slain buffaloes. then they retreated to the depths of the valley, put the packs on the horses, and made ready for flight at the first coming of dusk. luckily the night gave promise of being dark, and, when the sun had set and its last afterglow was gone they mounted, and, each followed by his packhorse, rode for the western edge of the rim. there they halted and took a last glance at a retreat in which their stay had been so brief but so welcome. "a fine little valley," said boyd. "it must have been hunted out years ago, but if it's left alone a few years longer the beaver will return and build along that brook. those pools will just suit 'em. if we don't find the gold we may turn to looking for beaver skins. there are worse trades." "at least it provides a lot of fresh air," said will. "and you see heaps and heaps of splendid country, all kinds, mountains, rivers, lakes, valleys, plains. fur hunters can't complain of the lack of scenery." "which course will we take, jim?" "i think we'd better ride due west. that indian village shuts us off from the mountains. it's true we may meet 'em on the plains, but likely we can escape 'em, and then when we've gone far enough we'll turn north and seek the ranges, where the cover is good. now, hark to that, will you!" from a point to the northward rose a long, quavering shout, shrill in its texture, and piercing the night like a call. a quiver ran along the lad's spine. "a sioux made that cry!" he exclaimed. "beyond a doubt," replied boyd, "but why he did so i can't tell. wait." they sat, silent, on their horses, and in a minute or two the cry was repeated, but farther toward the east. will could have mistaken the note for the howl of a wolf, it contained so much animal quality, but since the nature of the first had been told to him he knew that the second was a reply to it. "it's signals," said boyd with conviction. "they're talking to one another, though i don't know what they're saying. but it means the sooner we get out of the valley the better for this white army of two." "there's nothing to keep us from starting now." "that's true. because, if they find us here, all knowledge of the mine for which we are looking is likely to perish with us. i don't suppose the sioux have made any formal declaration of war, but the warning of red cloud is enough. they wouldn't hesitate to put out of the way two wandering fellows like ourselves." as they talked they rode slowly toward the west, the sound of their horses' hoofs deadened on the turf, and both watching among the trees for any hostile appearance. young clarke was rapidly learning the ways of the wilderness, from experience, and also because he had in boyd a teacher not excelled anywhere in the west. the calls, the long, dying cries, came again and again, showing the sioux were steadily approaching the valley, but the two were leaving it at an equal pace. will clutched the reins in his left hand and held the splendid repeating rifle across the saddle bow with the other. the pack horse, unled, but obedient to his training, followed close after. boyd, just ahead of him, proceeded in the same manner, and now they began to descend the slope that ended in the open plain. in ten more minutes they would leave the cover of the last tree. before them rolled the bare country, swell on swell, touched but faintly by the moon, yet keen eyes such as those of the sioux could trace the figures of horses and men on it for a considerable distance. will felt little shivers as they were about to leave the final row of trees. he could not help it, knowing that they were going to give up shelter for those open spaces which, dusky though they were, were yet revealing. "it's likely, in any event, that we'll be followed, isn't it?" he said. "if the sioux search the valley, and they will, they're sure to find our traces. then they'll come over the rim of the hills on our tracks." "well reasoned, will," said the hunter. "you'll learn to be a great scout and trailer, if you live long enough. that's just what they'll do, and they'll hang on to our trail with a patience that a white man seldom shows, because time means little to the indian. as i said before, when we're far out on the plains we must make an abrupt turn toward the north, and lose ourselves among the ranges. for a long time to come the mountains will be our best friends. i love mountains anyway, will. they mean shelter in a wild country. they mean trees, for which the eyes often ache. they mean grass on the slopes, and cool running water. the great plains are fine, and they lift you up, but you can have too much of 'em." they rode now into the open country and in its dusky moonlight will could not at first restrain the feeling that in reality it was as bright as day. a few hundred yards and both gazed back at the circle of hills enclosing the valley, hills and forest alike looking like a great black blur upon the face of the earth. but from the depths of that circling island came a long, piercing note, instinct with anger and menace. "now that was plain talk," said boyd. "it said that they had found our trail, that they knew we were white, that they wanted our scalps, and that they meant to follow us until they got 'em." "which being the case," said will defiantly, "we have to say to them in reply, though our syllables are unuttered, that we're not afraid, that they may follow, but they will not take us, that our scalps are the only scalps we have and we like 'em, that we mean to keep 'em squarely on top of our heads, where they belong, and, numerous and powerful though the sioux nation may be, and brave and skillful though its warriors are, they won't be able to keep us from finding our mine." "that's the talk, will, my boy. it sounds like red cloud, the great ogalala, mahpeyalute himself. fling 'em your glove, as the knights did in the old time, but while you're flinging it we'll have to do something besides talking. we must act. trailers like the sioux can follow us even in the night over the plains, and the more ground we gain in the beginning the better." he urged his horses into a long, easy gallop and will promptly followed at the same gait. the night darkened somewhat, at which they rejoiced, and then lightened again, at which they were sad, but they continued the long, swinging pace, which the horses could maintain for hours. "try your glasses again, will," said the hunter. "they will cut through the dark a long way, and maybe they can tell if the sioux are now in the plain." young clarke slowed his pace, and bending in the saddle took a long look. "i see nothing," he said. "do you want to try 'em too, jim?" "no. your eyes are of the best, and your news is good. it's likely that we've got a lead of seven or eight miles at least. two or three miles more and we'd better turn for the mountains. our horses are a lot bigger than those of the sioux, but their ponies, though not much to look at, are made out of steel. they'd follow for days, and if we stuck to the plains they'd be sure to run us down at last." "and we'd have little chance against a big sioux band?" "that's the ugly truth, and it's bound to be the mountains for us. i see a line on the prairie, will. what do your glasses tell us about it?" young clarke turned his gaze to the front, and after a single glance said: "water. it's one of those shallow prairie streams, i suppose, a foot of sand, and an inch of water on top." "if there's not too much alkali in it it'll be mighty welcome to the horses. ah, selim smells it now!" his great mount raised his head and neighed. boyd smoothed his long, silky mane. "yes, old friend," he said, as if he were talking to a man, "i'm quite sure it won't have much alkali, you're going to have a nice, big drink, so are your friends, and then, ho! for the mountains!" the stream was just what will predicted it would be, a foot of sand and an inch of water, but it was only slightly brackish, and both horses and horsemen drank freely from it, took a rest and then drank as freely again. another half hour and the two remounted. "now, will," said boyd, "the ridges are our target, and we'll shoot as straight at 'em as our horses can go, though we'll make the pace slow for the present. nothing to be gained by tiring out our mounts before the race begins." "and so you look for a real chase?" "surely. those sioux on their ponies will hang on like grim death and mighty glad i'll be when the trees on the first slopes reach out their boughs to hide us. about midnight now, isn't it, will?" the lad was able to see the face of his watch and announced that it was midnight and a half hour more. "that's good," said boyd, "because the darkest part of the night is now coming, and maybe some clouds floating up from the south will help us. yes, i think i notice a change already. three stars that i counted a little while ago have gone away." "and about five million are left." "still, every little counts. maybe in an hour or so two or three more will go away." "you're certainly an optimist, jim. you draw hope from very little things." "it pays. hope not only makes you stronger, it also makes you happier. there, didn't i tell you? i said that two or three stars might go away, but it's far better than two or three. all the skirmishers have left and now troops and battalions are departing, too. maybe whole armies will leave before long, and give us an entirely black sky." it grew visibly darker, although many of the stars remained twinkling in their places, but they were much encouraged, nevertheless, and trusting in the aid of the night, still saved the strength of their horses. "it will make it a little harder for the sioux to trail us," said boyd, "and if, by any chance they should get near enough for a shot, the odds are about twenty to one they can't hit us. suppose we stop here, give the horses another short rest, and you search the blackness back there with your glasses again." will was able to discern nothing but the sombre crests of the swells, and boyd, dismounting, put his ear to the ground. "i hear something moving," he said at last, and then, after a short pause, "it's the beat of hoofs." "can they be so near as that?" asked will in alarm. "at first i thought it was the sioux, but now i'm sure it's running buffalo. i wonder why they're stampeding at this time of the night. maybe a hunting party of northern cheyennes has wandered in here and knows nothing about the presence of the sioux." "that won't help us, since the sioux and northern cheyennes are allies." "no, it won't. if the cheyennes meet the sioux they'll join 'em in the pursuit of us. it's a new danger and i don't like it." boyd remounted and they rode on slowly. presently he stopped, and will, of course, stopped too. "listen, boy," he said, "and you'll hear the thunder of the buffalo. it's a big herd and they're running our way. i'm as sure as i sit here in this saddle that they're being driven by hunters." will heard a low, rolling sound like that of distant thunder. it was approaching rapidly, too, and it seemed to his heightened imagination that it was bearing straight down upon them. "if they are cheyennes we may be in the middle of 'em soon," he said. "if we sit still here," said boyd, "but that's just what we won't do. we'll gallop ahead until we come to a deep dip between the swells." "and then?" "dismount, keep low, and let the storm drive by." they did not have much time to spare, as the rumbling sound was growing fast beneath the tread of the flying herd, and they urged their horses into a gallop until they came to a dip, which they thought was deep enough to hide them. here they dismounted and holding the lariats, watched as the thunder of the running herd increased, until they saw its van of lowered heads, short, curved horns and great, shaggy manes, and then the dark mass stretching back out of sight. "there are tens of thousands of 'em," said the hunter. "they'll be some time in going by, and then, i think, we'll see the indians hanging on the rear." the multitude drove on for a period somewhat longer than boyd had predicted, and then will saw naked horsemen crouched low on ponies, some firing with rifles and others with bows and arrows. "they're cheyennes, as i thought," said boyd, "and they're enjoying a mighty killing. there'll be huge feasts for days and days in their lodges. they're so intent on it, too, that there isn't one chance in a thousand they'll see us." "but i'm glad i see them," said will. "it's a wonderful sight. i never thought i'd look upon its like, the chase of the buffalo herd under a midnight moon. it makes my blood leap." "and mine, too, though i've seen it before. this wild country with its vast plains and its high mountains takes hold of you, will. it grips you with fetters of steel. maybe, when you find the gold you won't want to go back to civilization." "if we find it, it will be easy enough to decide what we wish to do. but the whole herd is disappearing in the moonlight in the west, and i can barely make out the last of the indian hunters who are following 'em. i can see, though, a lot of beasts running low." "the wolves. they're always hanging on the rear of a herd, hoping to cut out calves or buffaloes weak from old age. now they're expecting to reap a little from the harvest made by the hunters. there, they've gone too, though for a long time you'll hear the herd thundering away to the west. but we don't mind the sound of a danger when the danger itself has passed. we'll mount and start again on our particular little excursion to the mountains, where we hope the fresh, cool air will help two fellows like ourselves, in failing health, no strength, no appetite, no anything." the big hunter laughed aloud in pleasure. "that herd was a help to us," he said. "it passed to the south of us, and so cut across our trail. if the sioux are pursuing, as we think they are, it'll take 'em a long time to find our traces again. we'll take advantage of it, as our horses are thoroughly rested, and make some speed." they swung into an easy gallop, and went on without further talk for a long time. when two or three hours had passed will raised his glasses and gazed into the north. "i think i see there a blur which is not of the night itself," he announced. "it may be the loom of the mountains that we're so anxious to reach." "but a long way off yet," said the hunter. "day will come hours before we can strike the first slopes, and we may have the sioux hanging on our trail." as a faint, gray light in the east told of the coming dawn, they came to another of the shallow streams of the plains and both horses and horsemen drank again. will and boyd also ate a little food. "now turn your glasses to the south and tell me what you see," said the hunter. will gazed and then lowered the glasses, a look of alarm on his face. "i know from your eyes what you've seen without your telling me," said boyd. "the sioux are there. in some way they've picked up our trail and are coming. it's a mighty good thing that we've saved our horses. they're in splendid trim now for a long run, and we'll need every ounce of their speed and courage." he did not seek to disguise the full measure of the danger from will, who, he knew, would summon his utmost courage to meet it. the lad looked again through the glasses, and was able now to see a full score of men coming on their ponies. the dawn had just spread to the south and against its red and gold they were shown sharply, a long line of black figures on the crest of a swell. "take a look, jim," said young clarke, handing him the glasses. "you'll be able to tell more about 'em than i can." boyd studied the picture carefully--it was in reality a picture to him--and after due deliberation, said: "they are thirty-two, because i've counted 'em. they're comparatively fresh, because their ponies are running straight and true. they're sioux, as i know from the style of their war bonnets, and they're after us, as i know from the way they're riding." "but look the other way, jim, and see how much nearer the mountains have come!" "aye, lad! they stand up like a fort, and if we reach 'em in time we may stave off our pursuers. they're coming fast, and they're spreading out in a long line now. that helps 'em, because it's impossible for fugitives to run exactly straight, and every time we deviate from the true course some part of their line gains on us." "i see a huge, rocky outcrop on the mountain side. suppose we always ride for that." "something to steer by, so to speak. a good idea. we won't push the horses hard at first, because it will be a long time before they come within rifle shot of us. then maybe we'll show 'em a spurt that'll count." but it was hard for will not to use the utmost speed at once, as every time he looked back he saw that the sioux were gaining, their figures and those of their horses, horse and rider seemingly one, always standing out black and clear against the rosy dawn. but he knew that boyd was right, and he tried hard to calm the heavy beating of his pulses. the whole horizon was now lighted by a brilliant sun and the earth was bathed in its beams. flight and pursuit went on, unabated, and the hunter and the boy began to increase the speed of their horses, as they saw that the sioux were gaining. they had been riding straight as they could toward the stony outcrop, but in spite of everything they curved a little now and then, and some portion of the following line drew closer. but they were yet a full two miles away, and the mountains were drawing much nearer. trees on the slopes detached themselves from the general mass, and became separate and individual. once will thought he caught a flash of water from a mountain torrent, and it increased the desirability of those slopes and ridges. how sheltered and protecting they looked! surely boyd and he could evade the sioux in there! "we'll make it easily," said boyd, and then he added with sudden violence. "no, we won't! look, there on your right, will!" four warriors on swift ponies suddenly emerged from a swell scarcely a quarter of a mile away, and uttered a shout of triumph. perhaps they were stray hunters drawn by the spectacle of the pursuit, but it was obvious that, in any event, they meant to co-operate with the pursuers. "they're sioux, too," said boyd. "now, steady, will. it's a new and pressing danger, of course, but it may help us, too." "how so?" "i think i can give 'em a healthy lesson. we all learn by experience, and they'll take notice, if i make a good example. they're bearing down on our flank. you lead, will, and keep straight for our rock. the four will soon be within range, as this repeating rifle of mine is a beauty, and it carries mighty far. the old muzzle loader is just a pistol by the side of it. come on, my fine fellows! the nearer you are the better! i learned long ago to shoot from a running horse, and that's more than many sioux can do." the four sioux on the right, bent low, were urging their ponies forward at their utmost speed. from the band behind came a tremendous yell, which, despite the distance, reached boyd and young clarke, and, apparently, they had full warrant in thus giving utterance to their feeling of triumph. the sudden appearance of the warriors coming down the dip was like the closing of a trap and it seemed that all chance of escape was cut off from the two who rode so desperately for the mountains. the hunter shut his teeth tightly and smiled in ironic fashion. whenever he was highly pleased he grew rather talkative, and now he had much to say for a man whose life was about to turn on a hair. "if the four on the ponies off there knew the peril into which they were riding they wouldn't ride so hard," he said. "but the sioux are not yet acquainted with the full merits of a long range repeating rifle, nor do they understand how well i can shoot. i'm as good a marksman as there is in the west, if i do say it myself, and lest you may think me a boaster, will, i'll soon prove it." he dropped the reins on the neck of selim, who, though unguided, ran on straight and true, and grasped the splendid rifle with both hands. will ceased to think of the band behind them and began to watch the hunter, who, though still smiling, had become one of the most dangerous of human beings. "yes, my four friends, you're overhauling us fast," murmured the hunter, "and i'm glad of it, because then i don't have to do so much waiting, and, when there's ugly work at hand, one likes to get it over. ah, i think they're near enough now!" the rifle sprang to his shoulder, a jet of flame leaped from the muzzle, and, with the sharp crack, the foremost sioux rolled to the ground and lay still, his frightened pony galloping off at an angle. the hunter quickly pulled the trigger again and the second sioux also was smitten by sudden death. the other two turned, but one of them was wounded by the terrible marksman, and the pony of the fourth was slain, his rider hiding behind the body. a dismal wail came from the sioux far back. the hunter lowered his great weapon, and one hand resumed the bridle rein. [illustration: the rifle sprang to his shoulder, a jet of flame leaped from the muzzle.] "a rifle like mine is worth more than its weight in gold," he said. "it's worth its weight in diamonds, rubies, emeralds and all the other precious jewels at a time like this. i can say, too, that's about the best shooting i ever did, and i think it'll save us. even the band behind, thirty or so in number, won't want to ride full tilt into rifles like ours." "the first slopes are not more than three or four miles away now," said young clarke, "and no matter how hard they push they can't overtake us before we reach the trees. but jim, how are we to ride through those high mountains, and, if we abandon the horses, we might as well give up our quest." "i chose these horses myself, will," said boyd, "and i knew what i was about. i trained selim, and, of course, he's the best, but the others are real prize packages, too. why, they can walk up the side of a cliff. they can climb trees, and they can jump chasms fifty feet wide." "come down to earth, jim. stay somewhere in the neighborhood of truth." "well, maybe i do draw a rather long bow, but horses learn to be mountain climbers, and ours are the very best of that kind. they'll take us up through the ridges, never fear. the sioux will follow, for a while, at least, but in the deep forest you see up there we'll shake 'em off." "hear 'em shouting now! what are they up to?" "making a last rush to overtake us, while we're yet in the plain. but it is too late, my gay scalp hunters!" the mountains were now drawing near very fast, and with the heavy forest along their slopes they seemed to will to come forward of themselves to welcome them. he became suddenly aware that his body ached from the long gallop, and that the dust raised by the beating hoofs was caked thickly on his face. his lips were dry and burning, and he longed for water. "in five more minutes we'll be on the first slope," said boyd, "and as we'll soon be hidden in the forest i think i'll say farewell to our pursuers." "i don't understand you, jim." "i'm going to say only one word, and it'll be short and sharp." he turned suddenly in his saddle, raised the repeating rifle and fired once at the band. he had elevated the sight for a very long shot, regarding it as a mere chance, but the bullet struck a pony and a few moments of confusion in the band followed. now boyd and young clarke made their horses use the reserves of strength they had saved so prudently, and with a fine spurt soon gained the shelter of the woods, in which they disappeared from the sight of the pursuing horde. they found themselves among oaks, aspens, pines, cedars, and birch, and they rode on a turf that was thick, soft and springy. but selim neighed his approval and boyd pulled down to a walk. a little farther on both dismounted at his suggestion. "it'll limber us up and at the same time help the horses," he said. "knowing what kind of rifles we carry and how we can shoot, the sioux won't be in any hurry to ride into the forest directly after us. we've a big advantage now in being able to see without being seen. as we needn't hurry, suppose we stop and take another look with those glasses of yours, will. i never thought they'd prove so useful when you insisted on bringing 'em." will obeyed at once. "they're a mile or so away," he said, "and they've stopped. they're gathered in a semi-circle around one man who seems to be a chief, and i suppose he's talking to 'em." "likely! most likely. i can read their minds. they're a little bit bashful about riding on our trail, when we have the cover of the forest. repeating rifles don't encourage you to get acquainted with those who don't want to know you. i can tell you what they'll do." "what, jim?" "the band will split into about two equal parts. one will ride to the right and the other to the left. then, knowing that we can't meet both with the rifles, they'll cautiously enter the mountains and try to pick up our trail. am i right or am i wrong?" "right, o, true prophet! they've divided and already they're riding off in opposite directions. and what's the best thing for us to do?" "we'll lead the horses up this valley. i see through leaves a little mountain stream, and we'll drink there all the water we want. then we'll push on deeper and deeper into the mountains, and when we think we're clear out of their reach we'll push on." they drank plentifully at the brook, and even took the time to bathe their hands and faces. then they mounted and rode up the slopes, the pack horses following. "didn't i tell you they were first class mountain climbers?" said boyd with pride. "why, mules themselves couldn't beat 'em at it." when twilight came they were high on the slopes under the cover of the forest, pushing forward with unabated zeal. chapter iii the little giant boyd rode in front, will was just behind, and then came the two heavily laden pack horses, following their masters with a faith that nothing could shake. the hunter seemed to have an instinct for choosing the right way, or else his eyes, like those of an owl, were able to pierce the dark. he avoided chasms and cliffs, chose the best places on the slopes, and wherever he wound he always led deeper and deeper into the vast maze of high mountains. will looked back toward the plains, but he could see no trace of them now, and he did not believe that the sioux, however skilled they might be, could follow their trail up the ridges in the dark. meanwhile the stars came out, and a half moon rode in a medium sky. the boy's eyes, grown used to the night, were now able to see quite clearly, and he noticed that the region into which they were riding was steadily growing wilder. now and then they passed so close to the edge of chasms that he shivered a little, as he looked down into the dark wells. then they passed up ravines where the lofty cliffs, clothed in stunted pine and cedar, rose high above them, and far in the north he caught the occasional glimpses of white crests on which the snow lay deep. boyd became quite cheerful, and, for a while, hummed a little air under his breath. when he ceased singing he said: "i don't know where we're going, will, but i do know that we're going away from the sioux. they'll try to trail us tomorrow when the light comes, and they may be able to do it, but we'll be moving on again, and, however patient trailers may be, a trail that lengthens forever will wear out the most patient trailer of them all." "isn't that a creek down there?" asked will, pointing to a silver flash in the dusk. "so it is, and while these mountain streams usually have rough beds, scattered with boulders, we'll ride up it as far as we can. it may be a great help in hiding our trail." they rode down the slope and urged the horses into the water, although the good beasts showed reluctance, fearful of the bowlders and the rough footing, but, when they were in, the two riders allowed them to pick the way, and thus they advanced slowly and with extreme caution a distance of five full miles. they heard a roaring and approached a fine fall of about thirty feet, over which the creek tumbled, sending up much white foam. "this watery road is now blocked, that's quite sure," said boyd. "but we've been able to use it a much greater distance than i thought, and it may throw off the sioux entirely." they emerged from the water and the horses climbed a steep slope to the crest of a ridge, where they stood panting. boyd and young clarke slipped from the saddles and stood by. the half moon and clusters of stars still made in the sky a partial light, enabling them to see that they stood upon a sort of broad shelf, sprinkled with large trees without undergrowth, but well covered with long grass. the only way of approach from the south was the rocky brook, along the bed of which they had come. what lay to the north they did not know, but the shelf seemed to narrow there. "a large part of the night is spent," said boyd, "and as it's not possible for the sioux to overtake us before dawn i vote we camp here, because we're pretty well worn out, and the horses are dead tired. what does the other half of the army say?" "it says this place was just made for us," replied will, "and we shouldn't go forward another inch tonight." "then we'll unsaddle, tether the horses and take to our blankets, though, if you say so, we will first draw a little on the commissariat." "no. i'm too tired to eat. i'd rather go to sleep." "the two halves of the army are in agreement. so will i." the horses fell to cropping the rich grass, but their riders, seeking the softest place they could find, folded themselves in their blankets and soon slumbered as soundly as if they were in the softest beds civilization could furnish. will awoke before dawn, and instantly remembered where he was. but while all had been strife and strain and anxiety before he slept, he felt now an immense peace, the great peace of the mountains. the horses having eaten their fill were lying down. the murmurs of the swift brook below came up to his ears, and with it the sound of a faint breeze playing in just a whisper among the leaves. far above him soared peaks and ridges, so many and high that they seemed to prop up the eternal blue. will realized that he loved the mountains. why shouldn't he? they had given him refuge when he needed it most, saving him and boyd from dreadful torture and certain death. somewhere in the heart of them lay the great treasure that he meant to find, and they possessed a majesty that appealed not merely to his sense of beauty, but to a spiritual feeling that was in truth an uplift to the soul. he was awake scarcely a minute, but all the events of the last few days passed in a swift panorama before his mind--the warning of red cloud, the silent departure by night from the camp of the troops, the pursuit by the sioux, and the escape into the high ranges. rapidly as it passed it was almost as vivid as if it were happening again, and then he was asleep once more. when he awoke the dawn was an hour old, and boyd was kindling a low fire down by the edge of the stream. "we'll draw on the coffee once more this morning," he said. "after all that we've passed through we're entitled to two cups of it apiece. i'll make bread and warm some of the dried beef, too. suppose, while i'm doing it you climb to the crest over there, and use those glasses of yours for all they're worth." it was a stiff climb to the summit, but once there will had a tremendous view in all directions. far to the south he was able to catch through the powerful lenses the dim line of the plains, but on all other sides were mountains, and yet more mountains. in the north they seemed very high, but far to the west was a mighty rounded peak, robed at the top in white, towering over every other. the narrow valley and the ridges were heavy with forest, but the glasses could find no sign of human life. he descended with his report, and found the coffee, the bread and the meat ready, and while he had been too tired to eat the night before he had a tremendous appetite now. when breakfast was over they sat by the stream and considered the future. boyd was quite sure the sioux were still following, and that they would eventually strike the trail, though they might be two or three days in doing so. he was of the opinion that they should go farther into the high ranges. "and what becomes of our quest?" asked will. "you know, lad," responded the hunter, whimsically, "that the longest way round is sometimes the shortest way through, and those that are in too great a hurry often fall over their own feet. if you are careful about your health and don't get shot you ought to live sixty or seventy years yet, because you are surely a robust youngster, and so you're richer in time than in anything else. i am, too, and for these reasons we can afford to go into the very heart of the high mountains, where we'll be well hidden, and bide until the danger of the sioux pursuit has passed." "a long speech, jim, but probably a true one. do we start right away?" "aye, lad, the sooner the better. both the horses and ourselves are fed and refreshed. we don't know what this shelf leads to, but we can soon find out." they resaddled, but did not mount, letting the well-trained horses follow, and proceeded along the shelf, until they entered a narrow pass, where they were compelled to go in single file, the hunter leading the way. far below him will heard the creek roaring as it foamed forward in rapids, and he was glad that the horses were, what boyd had declared them to be, trained mountain climbers, walking on with even step, although he felt an instinctive desire to keep as far as he could from the cliff's edge, and lean against the slope on the other side. but boyd, made familiar with such trails by his years of experience in the mountains, whistled gaily. "everything comes our way," he said. "if we were at the head of a trail like this we could hold it against the entire sioux nation, if we had cartridges enough." "i hope it won't go on forever," said will. "it makes me feel a little dizzy." "it won't. it's opening out now. the level land is widening on either side of the creek and that means another valley not much farther on." but it was a good four miles before they emerged into a dip, covering perhaps two square miles, covered heavily with forest and with a beautiful little blue lake at the corner. will uttered a cry of pleasure at the sight of the level land, the great trees green with foliage, and the gem of a lake. "we couldn't have found a finer place for a camp," he said. "we're the children of luck." but the wise hunter shook his head. "when the morning's cold we hate to pull ourselves out of comfortable beds," he said, "and for mountaineers such as we've become i'll admit that this valley looks like the garden of eden, but here we do not bide." "why not?" "because it's too good for us to live in. the sioux, of course, know of it, and what draws us draws them, too. for a long time the finer a spot becomes the more dangerous it is for us. no, we'll ride on past this happy valley straight into the mountains." "but at least let me take a little swim in that blue lake." "well, there's no harm in that, provided you're quick about it. when you come out i'll take one myself." will undressed in a couple of minutes and sprang into the water, which he found extremely cold, but he swam joyously for five minutes or so, when he emerged and was followed by boyd. when they were in the saddle again both felt that their strength had been renewed and will waved one hand in farewell to the little blue lake. "good-bye, friend lake," he said. "you're not large, but you're very beautiful, and some day i hope to come back and bathe in you again." "the great ranges of mountains which run all about over the western part of the continent are full of such pleasant valleys and cool little lakes," said the hunter. "often the lakes are far up the slopes, many thousands of feet above the sea, and sometimes you don't see 'em until you break right through the trees and bushes and come square up against the water. if we keep on, as i intend we shall, it's likely that we'll see a lot of 'em." the lad's eyes kindled. "that being so," he said, "i don't mind turning aside a while from our real hunt, because then we'll be explorers. it will be glorious to find new lakes and streams." "yes, it'll make the waiting easier, provided, of course, that we don't have rain and storms. rain can turn a wilderness paradise in fifteen minutes into a regular place for the condemned. we've almost as much to fear now from the sky as we have from the indians on the ground. when you see a little cloud up there you can begin to worry." "but i don't see any, and so i refuse to worry yet." they reached the farther edge of the valley and began to climb a slope, which, easier at first, soon became rather stiff. but the horses once more justified the hunter's praise and pressed forward nobly. he and will dismounted again, and they let selim lead where he would. "all horses have wilderness sense," said boyd, "and selim, having both an educated sense and a wild sense, is sure to pick out the best way." his confidence was not misplaced, as the horse instinctively chose the easiest path, and, before the twilight came, they reached the crest of a lofty ridge, from which they saw a sea of mountains in all directions, a scene so majestic that it made will draw a sharp breath. "i think we'd better go down the slope until it becomes too dark for us to see a way," said boyd, "because we're up so high now that the night is sure to be biting cold here on the very top of the ridge." in an hour they found a glen sheltered well by high trees all about and with a pool of icy cold water at the edge. it was a replica on a small scale of the valley and lake they had left behind, and glad enough they were to find it. they drank of the pool, and the horses followed them there with eagerness. then, eating only cold food, they made ready for the night. "get an extra pair of blankets from your pack, will," said boyd. "you don't yet know how cold the night can be on these mountains, at any time of the year." the hunter's advice was good, as will the next morning, despite two blankets beneath him and two above him, felt cold, and when he sprang up he pounded his chest vigorously to make the circulation brisk. boyd laughed. "i'm about as cold as you are," he said, "and, in view of the winter into which we've suddenly dropped, we'll have hot coffee and hot food for breakfast. i don't think we risk anything by building a fire here. what's the matter with our horses?" they had tethered the horses in the night, and all four of them suddenly began to rear and stamp in terror. "there's a scout watching us!" exclaimed will. "a scout?" said boyd, startled. "yes! see him standing on the big rock, far off there to the right." the hunter looked and then drew a breath of relief. "old ephraim!" he said. a gigantic grizzly bear was upreared on a great rocky outcrop about three hundred yards away, and the opalescent light of the morning magnified him in the boy's eyes, until he was the largest beast in the world. monstrous and sinister he stood there, unmoving, gazing at the strange creatures in the little camp. he seemed to will a symbol of this vast and primeval new world into which he had come. remembering his glasses he took them and brought the great grizzly almost before his eyes. "he appears to be showing anger and a certain curiosity because we're here," he said. "i don't think he understands us, but he resents our invasion of his territory." "well, we're not going to explain who we are. if he don't meddle with us we won't meddle with him." the grizzly did not stay long, retreating from the rock, then disappearing in the underbrush. will had qualms now and then lest he should break through the bushes and appear in their little glen, but boyd knew him better. he was content to leave alone those who left him alone. the breakfast with its hot coffee and hot food was very grateful, and continuing the descent of the slope they passed through other narrow passes and over other ridges, but all the while ascending gradually, the world about them growing in majesty and beauty. four days and a large part of four nights they traveled thus after leaving the little valley with the blue lake, and the bright air was growing steadily colder as they rose. boyd talked a little now of stopping, but he did not yet see a place that fulfilled all his ideas of a good and safe camp, though he said they would soon find it. "how far do you think we've come into the mountains?" asked will. "about a hundred miles, more or less," replied the hunter. "seems to me more like a thousand, chiefly more. if the sioux find us here they'll have to be the finest mountain climbers and ravine crossers the world has ever seen. just what are you looking for, jim?" "four things, wood, water, grass and shelter. we've got to have 'em, both for ourselves and the horses, and we've got to find 'em soon, because, d'you see, will, we've been wonderfully favored by providence. the rains and storms have held off longer than they usually do in the high mountains, but we can't expect 'em to hold off forever just for our sakes. besides, the hoofs of the horses are getting sore, and it's time to give 'em a long rest." they were now far up the high slopes, but not beyond the timber range. the air was thin and cold, and at night they always used two pairs of blankets, spreading the under pair on thick beds of dry leaves. in the morning the pools would be frozen over, but toward noon the ice under the slanting rays of the sun would melt. the march itself, and the air laden with odors of pine and spruce, and cedar and balsam, was healthful and invigorating. will felt his chest expand. he knew that his lung power, already good, was increasing remarkably and that his muscles were both growing and hardening. another day and crossing a ridge so sharp that they were barely able to pull the horses over it, they came to a valley set close around by high mountains, a valley about three miles long and a mile wide, one-third of its surface covered by a lake, usually silver in color, but varying with the sky above it. another third of the valley was open and heavy in grass, the remainder being in forest with little undergrowth. "here," said boyd, "we'll find the four things we need, wood, water, grass and shelter, and since it's practically impossible for the original band of sioux to trail us into this cleft, here we will stay until such time as we wish to resume our great hunt. what say you?" "seems to me, jim, that we're coming home. this valley has been waiting for us a great many years, but the true tenants have arrived at last." "that's the right spirit. hark to selim, now! he, too, approves." the great horse, probably moved by the sight of grass and water, raised his head and neighed. "if we had felt any doubts the horses would have settled it for us," said will. "i understand their language and they say in the most correct english that here we are to bide and rest, as long as we wish. the presence of the lake indicates a running stream, an entrance and exit, so to speak. i think, jim, it's about the most beautiful valley i ever saw." they descended the last slope, and came to the creek that drained the lake, a fine, clear, cold current, flowing swiftly over a rocky bottom. after letting the horses drink they forded it, and rode on into the valley. will noticed something white on the opposite slope, and examining it through his glasses saw that it was a foaming cascade. "it's the stream that feeds the lake," he said. "it rushes down from the higher mountains, and here we have a beautiful waterfall. nature has neglected nothing in preparing our happy valley, providing not only comfort and security but scenic beauty as well." the hunter looked a moment or two at the waterfall, and the tremendous mountains about them with a careful eye. "what is it, jim?" asked will. "i'm looking for tracks." "what tracks? you said we wouldn't find any sioux in here." "not the footprints of the sioux." "it's not in the range of the crows, blackfeet or assiniboines. surely you don't expect them." "i don't expect crows, blackfeet or assiniboines." "then what do you expect?" "wild animals." "why bother about wild animals? armed as we are we've nothing to fear from them." "nothing to fear, but a lot to hope. i think we're likely to stay here quite a spell, and we'll need 'em in our business. remember that for the present, will, we're wild men, and we'll have to live as wild men have lived since the world began. we want their meat and their skins." "the meat i understand, because i'd like to bite into a juicy piece of it now, but we're not fur hunters." "no, but we need the skins of big animals, and we need 'em right away. this weather can't last forever. we're bound to have a storm sometime soon. we must first make a wickiup. it's quite simple. the sioux always do it. a sioux warrior never sleeps in the open if he can help it, and as they've lived this sort of life for more hundreds of years than anybody knows they ought to know something about it." "but i don't see that cloud you told me several days ago to watch for." "it will come. it's bound to come. now here's the lake ahead of us. isn't it a beauty? i told you we'd find a lot of these fine little lakes all along the slopes of the ridges, but this seems to be the gem of them all. see how the water breaks into waves and looks like melted silver! and the banks sloping and firm, covered with thick green turf, run right down to the water's edge, like a gentleman's park." "it's all that you claim for it," said will, making a wide, sweeping gesture, "and, bright new lake, i christen thee lake boyd!" "the lake accepts the name," said the hunter with a pleased smile, and then he added, also making a wide, sweeping gesture: "green and sheltered valley, i christen thee clarke valley." "i, too, accept the compliment," said will. "the far side of the valley is much the steeper," said the hunter, "and i think it would be a good idea for us to build the wickiup over there. it would be sheltered thoroughly on one side at least by the lofty cliffs." "going back a moment to the search you were making a little while ago, have you noticed the footprints of any wild animals?" "aye, will, my lad, so i have. i've seen tracks of elk, buffalo and bear, and of many smaller beasts." "then, that burden off your mind, we might as well locate the site of our house." "correct. i think i see it now in an open space under the shelter of the cliff." they had ridden across the valley, and both marked a slight elevation under the shadow of the cliff, a glen forty or fifty yards across, protected by thick forest both to east and west, and by thin forest on the south, from which point they were approaching. "it's the building site that's been reserved for us five hundred years, maybe," said the hunter. "the mountain and the trees will shelter us from most of the big winds, and if any of the trees should blow down their falling bodies would not reach us here in the center of the open space. there is grass everywhere for the horses, and water, both lake and running, for all of us." they unsaddled the riding horses, took the packs off the others and turned them loose. all four neighed gratefully, and set to work on the grass. "they've done a tremendous lot of mountain climbing, and they've carried heavy burdens," said boyd, "and they're entitled to a long rest, long enough to heal up their sore feet and fill out their sides again. now, will, you'll make a great hunter some day, but suppose, for the present, you guard the packs while i look for an elk and maybe a bear. two of them would furnish more meat than we could use in a long time, but we need their skins." "i'm content to wait," said will, who was saddle-tired. he sat down on the thick, soft grass by the side of the packs, and his physical system, keyed up so long, suffered a collapse, complete but not unpleasant. every nerve relaxed and he sank back against his pack, content to be idle as long as boyd was away. but while his body was weak then, his mind was content. clarke valley, which had been named after him, was surely wonderful. it was green and fresh everywhere and boyd lake was molten silver. not far away the cataract showed white against the mountainside, and its roar came in a pleasant murmur to his ears. he heard a distant shot, but it did not disturb him. he knew it was boyd, shooting something, probably the elk he wished. after a while he heard another report, and he put that down as the bear. his surmise was correct in both instances. boyd, with his help, skinned both the bear and the elk, and they hung great quantities of the flesh of both in the trees to dry. boyd carefully scraped the skins with his hunting knife, and they, too, were hung out to dry. while they were hanging there will also shot a bear, and his hairy covering was added to the others. a few days later boyd built the wickiup, called by the sioux tipiowinja. taking one of the sharp axes he quickly cut a number of slender, green poles, the larger ends of which he sharpened well and thrust deep into the ground, until he had made with them a complete circle. the smaller ends were bent toward a common center and fastened tightly with withes of skin. the space between was thatched with brush, and the whole was covered with the skins of elk and bear, which boyd stitched together closely and firmly. then they cut out a small doorway, which they could enter by stooping. the floor was of poles, made smooth and soft with a covering of dead leaves. it was rude and primitive, but will saw at once that in need it would protect both their stores and themselves. "i learned that from the sioux long ago," said boyd, not without some admiration of his handiwork. "it's close and hot, and after we've put the stores in we'll have to tuck ourselves away in the last space left. but it will feel mighty good in a storm." the second night after the wickiup was finished his words came true. a great storm gathered in the southwest, the first that will had seen in the high mountains, and it was a tremendous and terrifying manifestation of nature. the mountains fairly shook with the explosions of thunder, and the play of lightning was dazzling on the ridges. when thunder and lightning subsided somewhat, the hunter and the lad crept into the wickiup and listened to the roaring of the rain as it came. will, curled against the side upon his pack, heard the fierce wind moaning as if the gods themselves were in pain, and the rain beating in gust after gust. the stout poles bent a little before both wind and rain, but their elasticity merely added to their power of resistance, as the wickiup, so simple in its structure and yet so serviceable, stood fast, and boyd had put on its skin covering so well that not a single drop of water entered. in civilization he might have found the wickiup too close to be supportable, but in that raging wilderness, raging then at least, it was snug beyond compare. he had a thought or two for the horses, but he knew they would find shelter in the forest. boyd, who was curled on the other side of the wickiup, was already asleep, but the lad's sense of safety and shelter was so great that he lay awake, and listened to the shrieking of the elements, separated from him only by poles and a bearskin. the power of contrast was so great that he had never felt more comfortable in his life, and after listening awhile he, too, fell asleep, sleeping soundly until day, when the storm had passed, leaving the air crisper and fresher, and the earth washed afresh and clean. they found the horses already grazing, and their bear and elk steaks, which they had fastened securely, safe on the boughs. the valley itself, so keen and penetrating was the odor of balsam and pine, seemed redolent with perfume, and the lake itself had taken on a new and brighter tint of silver. "boyd lake and clarke valley are putting on their best in our honor," said will. then they ate a huge breakfast, mostly of elk and bear meat, and afterward considered the situation. will had the natural impatience of youth, but boyd was all for staying on a couple of weeks at least. they might not find another such secure place, one that furnished its own food, and nothing would be lost while much could be gained by waiting. it was easy enough to persuade the lad, who was, on the whole, rather glad to be convinced, and then they turned their thoughts toward the improvement of a camp which had some of the elements of permanency. "we could, of course, build a good, strong cabin," said boyd, "and with our stout axes it would not take long to do it, but i don't think we'll need the protection of logs. the wickiup ought to serve. we may not have another storm while we're here, but showers are pretty sure to come." to provide against contingencies they strengthened the wickiup with another layer of poles, and boyd spread over the leaves on the floor the skin of a huge grizzly bear that he killed on one of the slopes. they felt now that it was secure against any blizzard that might sweep through the mountains, and that within its shelter they could keep warm and dry in the very worst of times. but they did not sleep in it again for a full week, no rain falling at night during that period. instead they spread their blankets under the trees. "it's odd, and i don't pretend to account for it," said boyd, "but it's only progressive white men who understand the value of fresh air. as i told you, the sioux never sleep outside, when they can help it. neither do the other indians. in the day they live outdoors, but at night they like to seal themselves up in a box, so to speak." "rushing from extreme to extreme." "maybe, but as for me, i want no better bed than the soft boughs of balsam, with blankets and the unlimited blue sky, provided, of course, that it isn't raining or hailing or sleeting or snowing. it's powerful healthy. since we've come into clarke valley i can see, will, that you've grown about two inches in height and that you're at least six inches bigger around the chest." "you're a pretty big exaggerator!" laughed will, "but i certainly do feel bigger and stronger than i was when i arrived here. if the sioux will only let us bide in peace awhile i think i may keep on growing. tell me more about the sioux, jim. they're a tremendous league, and i suppose you know as much about 'em as any white man in this part of the world." "i've been in their country long enough to learn a lot, and there's a lot to learn. the sioux are to the west what the iroquois were to the east, that is, so far as their power is concerned, though their range of territory is far larger than that of the iroquois ever was. they roam over an extent of mountain and plain, hundreds and hundreds of miles either way. i've heard that they can put thirty thousand warriors in the field, though i don't know whether it's true or not, but i do know that they are more numerous and warlike than any other indian nation in the west, and that they have leaders who are really big men, men who think as well as fight. there's mahpeyalute, whom you saw and whom we call red cloud, and tatanka yotanka, whom we call sitting bull, and gray wolf and war eagle and lots of others. "besides, the sioux, or, in their own language, the dakotas, are a great nation made up of smaller nations, all of the same warlike stock. there is the tribe of the mendewakaton, which means spirit lake village, then you have the wahpekute or leaf shooters; the wahpeton, the leaf village; the sisseton, the swamp village; the yankton, the end village, the yanktonnais, the upper end village, and the teton, the prairie village. the teton tribe, which is very formidable, is subdivided into the ogalala, the brule, and the hunkpapa. red cloud, as i've told you before, is an ogalala. and that's a long enough lesson for you for one day. now, like a good boy, go catch some fish." will had discovered very early that lake boyd, which was quite deep, contained fine lake trout and also other fish almost as good to the taste. as their packs included strong fishing tackle it was not difficult to obtain all the fish they wanted, and the task generally fell to the lad. now, at boyd's suggestion, he fulfilled it once more with the usual success. game of all kinds, large and small, was abundant, the valley being fairly overrun with it. boyd said that it had come in through the narrow passes, and its numbers indicated that no hunters had been there in a long time. will even found a small herd of about a dozen buffaloes grazing at the south end of the valley, but the next day they disappeared, evidently alarmed by the invasion of human beings. but the deer continued numerous and there were both bears and mountain lions along the slopes. will, who had a certain turn for solitude, being of a thoughtful, serious nature, ceased to find the waiting in the valley irksome. he began to think less of the treasure for which he had come so far and through such dangers. they _had_ found a happy valley, and he did not care how long they stayed in it, all nature being so propitious. he had never before breathed an air so fine, and always it was redolent with the odor of pine and balsam. he began to feel that boyd had not exaggerated much when he talked about his increase in height and chest expansion. both he and the hunter bathed every morning in lake boyd. at first will could not endure its cold water more than five minutes, but at the end of ten days he was able to splash and swim in it as long as he liked. their days were not all passed in idleness, as they replenished their stores by jerking the meat of both bear and deer. at the end of two weeks the hunter began to talk of departure, and he and will walked toward the western end of the valley, where the creek issued in a narrow pass, the only road by which they could leave. "it's likely to be a mighty rough path," said boyd, "but our horses are still mountain climbers and we'll be sure to make it." they went a little nearer and listened to the music of the singing waters, as the creek rushed through the cleft. it was a fine, soothing note, but presently another rose above it, clear and melodious. it was a whistle, and it had such a penetrating quality that will, at first, thought it was a bird. then he knew it sprang from the throat of a man, hidden by the bushes and coming up the pass. nearer and nearer it came and mellower and mellower it grew. he had never before heard anyone whistle so beautifully. it was like a song, but it was evident that someone was entering their happy valley, and in that wilderness who could come but an enemy? nearer and nearer the whistler drew and the musical note of the whistling and its echoes filled all the pass. "wouldn't it be better for us to draw back a little where we can remain hidden among the brakes?" said will. "yes, do it," replied the hunter, "just for precaution against any possible mistake, but i don't think we really need to do so. in all the world there's not another such whistler! it's bound to be giant tom, giant tom his very self, and none other!" "giant tom! giant tom! whom do you mean?" exclaimed will. "just wait a minute and you'll see." the whistler was now very near, though hidden from sight by the bushes, and he was trilling forth old airs of home that made the pulses in the lad's throat beat hard. "it's giant tom. there's no other such in the world," repeated boyd more to himself than to will. "in another minute you'll see him. you can hear him now brushing past the bushes. ah, there he is! god bless him!" the figure of an extraordinary man now came into view. he was not more than five feet tall, nor was he particularly broad for his height. he was just the opposite of a giant in size, but there was something about him that suggested the power of a giant. he had a wonderfully quick and light step, and it was will's first impression that he was made of steel, instead of flesh and blood. his face, shaven smoothly, told little of his age. he was dressed in weather-beaten brown, rifle on shoulder, and two mules, loaded with the usual packs and miner's tools, followed him in single file and with sure step. will's heart warmed at once to the little man who continued to whistle forth a volume of clear song, and whose face was perhaps the happiest he had ever seen. boyd stepped suddenly from the shielding brushwood and extended his hand. "tom bent," he said, "put 'er there!" "thar she is," said giant tom, placing his palm squarely in boyd's. "my young friend, mr. william clarke," said the hunter, nodding at the lad, "and this is mr. thomas bent, better known to me and others as giant tom." "glad to meet you, william," said the little man, and ever afterward he called the boy william. "anybody that i find with jim, here, has got on 'im the stamp an' seal o' high approval. i don't ask your name, whar you come from or why you're here, or whar you're goin', but i take you fur a frien' o' jim's, an' so just 'bout all right. now put 'er thar." he grinned a wide grin and extended a wide palm, into which will put his to have it enclosed at once in a grasp so mighty that he was convinced his first impression about the man being made of steel was correct. he uttered an exclamation and giant tom dropped his hand at once. "i never do that to a feller more than once," he said, "an' it's always the first time i meet him. even then i don't do it 'less i'm sure he's all right, an' i'm goin' to like 'im. it's jest my way o' puttin' a stamp on 'im to show that he's passed tom bent's ordeal, an' is good fur the best the world has to offer. now, william, you're one o' us." he smiled so engagingly that will was compelled to laugh, and he felt, too, that he had a new and powerful friend. "that's right, laugh," said giant tom. "you take it the way a feller orter, an' you an' me are goin' to be mighty good pards. an' that bein' settled i want to know from you, jim boyd, what are you doin' in my valley." "your valley, giant! why, you never saw it before," said the hunter. "what's that got to do with it? i wuz comin' here an' any place that i'm goin' to come to out here in the wilderness is mine, o' course." "coming here, i suppose, to hunt for gold! and you've been hunting for it for fifteen years, you've trod along thousands and thousands of miles and never found a speck of it yet." the little man laughed joyously. "that's true," he said. "i've worked years an' years an' i never yet had a particle o' luck. but a dry spell, no matter how long, is always broke some time or other by a rain, an' when my luck does come, it's goin' to bust all over my face. gold will just rain on me. i'll stand in it knee-deep an' then shoulder deep, an' then right up to my mouth." "you haven't changed a bit," said boyd, grinning also. "you're the same giant tom, a real giant in strength and courage, that i've met off and on through the years. it's been a long time since i first saw you." "it was in californy in ' . i was only fourteen then, but i went out with my uncle in the first rush. seventeen years i've hunted the yellow stuff, in the streams, in the mountains, all up an' down the coast, in the british territories, an' way back in the rockies, but i've yet to see its color. uncle pete found some, and when he died he left what money he had to me. 'jest you take it an' keep on huntin', tom, my boy,' he said. 'now an' then i think i've seen traces o' impatience in you. when you'd been lookin' only six or seven years, an' found nothin', i heard you speak in a tone of disapp'intment, once. don't you do it ag'in. that ain't the way things are won. it takes sperrit an' patience to be victor'us. hang on to the job you've set fur yourse'f, an' thirty or forty years from now you'll be shore to reap a full reward, though it might come sooner.' an' here i am, fresh, strong, only a little past thirty, and i kin afford to hunt an' wait for my pay 'bout thirty years more. i've never forgot what uncle pete told me just afore he died. a mighty smart man was uncle pete, an' he had my future in mind. don't you think so, young william?" "of course," replied will, looking at him in wonder and admiration. "i don't think a man of your cheerful and patient temperament could possibly fail." "and maybe his reward will come much sooner than he thinks," said the hunter, glancing at the lad. will understood what boyd meant, and he was much taken with the idea. the little giant seemed to be sent by providence, but he said nothing, waiting until such time as the hunter thought fit to broach the subject. "how long have you been here?" asked the little giant, looking at the valley with approving eyes. "quite a little while," replied boyd. "it belonged to us two until a few minutes ago, but now it belongs to us three. we've been needing a third man badly, and while i didn't know it, you must have been in my mind all the time." "an' what do you happen to need me fur, jim boyd?" "we'll let that wait awhile, at least, until we introduce you to our home." "all right. patience is my strong suit. do you mean to say you've got a home here?" "certainly." "then i'll be your guest until you take me into the pardnership you're talkin' 'bout. do you know that you two are the first faces o' human bein's that i've seen in two months, an' it gives me a kind o' pleasure to look at you, jim boyd, an' young william." "come on then to our camp." he whistled to his two mules, strong, patient animals, and then he whistled on his own account the gayest and most extraordinary variation that will had ever heard, a medley of airs, clear, pure and birdlike, that would have made the feet of any young man dance to the music. it expressed cheerfulness, hope and the sheer joy of living. "you could go on the stage and earn fine pay with that whistling of yours," said will, when he finished. "others have told me so, too," said the little giant, "but i'll never do it. do you think i'd forget what uncle pete said to me on his dyin' bed, an' get out o' patience? what's a matter o' twenty or thirty years? i'll keep on lookin' an' in the end i'll find plenty o' gold as a matter o' course. then i won't have to whistle fur a livin'. i'll hire others to whistle fur me." "he's got another accomplishment, will, one that he never brags about," said the hunter. "what is it?" "i told you once that i was as good a rifle shot as there was in the west, over a range of a million and a half square miles of mountain and plain, but i forgot, for a moment, about one exception. that exception is giant tom, here. he has one of the fine repeating rifles like ours, and whether with that or a muzzle loader he's quicker and surer than any other." the face of giant tom turned red through his tan. "see here, jim boyd, i'm a modest man, i'm no boaster, don't be telling wild tales about me to young william. i don't know him yet so well as i do you, an' i vally his good opinion." "what i say is true every word of it. if his bullet would only carry that far he'd pick off a deer at five miles every time, and you needn't deny it, giant tom." "well, mebbe thar is some truth in what you say. when the lord sawed me off a foot, so i'd hev to look up in the faces o' men whenever i talked to 'em, he looked at me an' he felt sorry fur the little feller he'd created. i'll have to make it up to him somehow, he said to hisself, an' to he'p me along he give me muscles o' steel, not your cast steel, but your wrought steel that never breaks, then he put a mockin' bird in my throat, an' give me eyes like an eagle's an' nerves o' the steadiest. last, he give me patience, the knowin' how to wait years an' years fur what i want, an' lookin' back to it now i think he more than made up fur the foot he sawed off. leastways i ain't seen yet the man i want to change with, not even with you, jim boyd, tall as you think you are, nor with you, young william, for all your red cheeks an' your youth an' your heart full o' hope, though it ain't any fuller than mine." "long but mighty interesting," said boyd. "now, you can see our wickiup, over there in the open. we use it only when it rains. we'll help you take the packs off your mules and they can go grazing for themselves with our horses. you are not saying much about it, but i imagine that you and the mules, too, are pretty nearly worn out." "them's good mules, mighty good mules, but them an' me, i don't mind tellin' it to you, jim boyd, won't fight ag'inst restin' an' eatin' awhile." "i'll light the fire and warm food for you," said will. "it's a pleasure for me to do it. sit down on the log and before you know it i'll have ready for you the finest lake trout into which you ever put your teeth." "young william, i accept your invite." will quickly had his fire going, and he served not only trout, but bear steaks and hot coffee to the little giant, who ate with a tremendous appetite. "i've got provisions of my own in my packs," he said, "but sometimes the other feller's feed tastes a heap better than your own, an' this that you're offerin' me is, i take it, the cream o' the mountains, young william. a couple more o' them trout, if you don't mind, four or five more pounds o' that bear meat, an' a gallon o' coffee, if you've got it to spare. with them i think i kin make out. how are my mules gettin' on, jim?" "first rate. they've already introduced themselves to the horses, which have given their names, pedigrees and the stories of their lives. the mules also have furnished their histories, and, everybody being satisfied with everybody else's social station and past, they're now grazing together in perfect friendship, all six of 'em, just beyond that belt of woodland. and that being the case, i'll now give you the history of will and myself, and i'll tell you about the biggest thing that we expect from the future." "go ahead," said the little giant, settling himself into a comfortable position. chapter iv the flight boyd had no mean powers as a narrator. he did not speak at first of their own immediate search, but alluded to the great belief that gold was scattered all through the west, although it seldom had a trace or trail leading to it. then he spoke of clarke's father, and what he had discovered, returning soon afterward to the civil war, in which he had fallen. the little giant's eyes brightened with the flame of pursuit as the hunter talked. he who had sought gold for so many years without finding a particle of it was seeing it now, in pockets, and in almost solid ledges, beyond anything he had ever dreamed. but when boyd told of the officer's death on the battlefield he sighed deeply and his face clouded. "that's always the way," he said. "jest when you've got it, it slips through your fingers, though i will say to you, young william, that it's not the lost gold only i'm mournin' 'bout. i'm sorry, too, for the death of your brave father." "but, knowing the uncertainties of war, he took thought for the future," said boyd. "he drew a map showing where his great mine is, and it's now in the possession of his son, will, who sits before you." the shadow left the face of the little giant, and his eyes glistened as will produced the precious map, spreading it before him. after examining it carefully, he said: "ef you fight off many thousand sioux, run through fifty or a hundred mountain blizzards, starve a dozen times, freeze twenty times an' stick to it three or four years you'll git that thar gold." then the little giant sighed, and his face clouded again--it had perhaps been years since his face had clouded twice in one day. "you fellers are in great luck. i wish you well." "we wish ourselves well," said boyd, watching him closely. a sudden thought seemed to occur to the little giant and his face brightened greatly. "do you two fellers want a hired man?" he asked. "what kind of a hired man?" said boyd. "a likely feller, not very tall, but strong an' with a willin' heart, handy with spade an' shovel, understandin' hosses an' mules, an' able to whistle fur you gay an' lively tunes in the evenin', when you're all tired out from the day's work in the richest mine in the world." "no, we don't want any hired man." "not even the kind i'm tellin' you 'bout?" "not even that, nor any other." "an' both o' you hev got your minds plum' made up 'bout it?" "plumb made up." the little giant's face fell for the third time in one day, an absolute record for him. "i reckon thar ain't no more to say," he said. boyd was still watching him closely, but now his look was one of sympathy. "we don't want any hired man," he said. "we've no use for hired men, but we do want something." "what's that, jim boyd?" "we want a partner." "why, each of you has got one. you hev young william and young william hez you." "well, young william and me have talked about this some, not much, but we came straight to the point. for such a big hunt as ours, through dangers piled on dangers, we need a third man, one that's got a strong heart and a cheerful soul, one that can shoot straighter than anybody else in the world, one whose picture, if i could take it, would be the exact picture of you, tom bent." "but i ain't done nothin' to come in as a pardner." "neither did i, but will took me in as a guide, hunter and fighting man. don't you understand, giant, that to get the clarke gold we'll have to pay the price? we'll have to fight and fight, and we'll have to risk our lives a thousand times apiece. why, in a case like this, you're worth a cool hundred thousand dollars." "then i come in fur a tenth--ef we git it." "you come in for the same share as the rest, share and share alike, but i will say this to you, little giant, that we expect you to do the most tremendous fighting the world has ever seen, we expect you to wipe out whole bands of sioux and blackfeet by yourself while will and me stand by and rest, and, after it's all over, we expect you to sit down and whistle an hour or two, until you soothe us to sleep." "then, on them conditions i come in as a full pardner," said giant tom, and he grinned with pleasure, the most amazing grin that will had ever seen. it spread slowly across his face, until the great crack seemed to reach almost to each ear, revealing a splendid set of powerful white teeth, without a flaw. above the chasm two large blue eyes glistened and glowed with delight. it was all so infectious, so contagious that both will and boyd grinned in return. they were not only securing for a perilous quest a man who was beyond compare, but they were also giving the most exquisite mental pleasure to a likable human being. "it shorely does look," said the little giant, "ez ef my luck wuz goin' to hev a turn. at any rate, i'll be with you boys, in the best company i've had fur years." "you and the mules rest a day," said boyd, "and then we'll be off. we'll keep to the mountains for a while, and then we'll curve back to the plains, where we'll take up the line laid down on the map, and where the going is easier. maybe we can dodge the sioux." the little giant made his bed under one of the trees, and he slept very soundly that night, eating prodigiously in the morning. the three were discussing the advisability of leaving at once or of waiting until the dusk for departure, when will, happening to look toward the east, saw what he took at first to be a tiny cloud in the clear blue sky. he carried his glasses over his shoulders, and he raised them at once. the hunter and the little giant had noticed his act. "what is it, will?" asked boyd anxiously. "smoke! a big puff of it!" "and it came from the top of that mountain to the east of the valley." "it rose straight and fast, as if it had been sent up by some human agency." "and so it was. it's a signal!" "indians!" "yes, will." "what does it mean?" "it means 'attention, watch!' they've got a code almost as complete as that of our armies when they use the signal flags. look at that other crest off to the north. maybe an answer will come from it." "there _is_ an answer. i can see it rising now from the very place you indicate, jim. what does the answer signify?" "i can see it now with the naked eye. it merely says to the first, 'i've seen you, i'm waiting. go ahead.' look back to the other crest." "two smokes are now going up there." "they say 'come.' it's two bands wanting to meet. now, the other place." "three smokes there." "three means, 'we come.'" "now back to the other." "four smokes." "which says in good, plain english, 'we are following the enemy.' that settles it. they've found out, some way or other, that we're here, and the two bands mean to meet and capture or destroy us. they never suspected that we could read their writing against the sky. we don't wait until tonight. we leave as soon as we can get our packs on our horses and mules." "i'd like to make a suggestion first," said the little giant with some diffidence. "what is it?" asked boyd. "suppose we stay an' have a crack at 'em before we go, jest kinder to temper their zeal a little. i'd like to show young william that i kin really shoot, an' sorter live up to the braggin' you've been doin'." "no, you ferocious little man-killer. we can't think of it. we'd have a hundred sioux warriors on our heels in no time. now hustle, you two! pack faster than you ever packed before, and we'll start inside of two hours. do you see any more smokes, will?" "no, the sky is now without a blemish." "which means they've talked enough and now they're traveling straight toward our valley. it's lucky they've got such rough country to cross before they reach us." inside the two hours they were headed for the western end of the valley, the little giant riding one of his mules, the other following. the wickiup was abandoned, but they brought much of the jerked meat with them, thinking wisely of their commissariat. it was with genuine regret that will looked back from his saddle upon clarke valley and boyd lake, shimmering and beautiful now in the opalescent sunshine. they had found peace and plenty there. it was a good place in which to live, if wild men would let one alone, and, loving solitude at times, he could have stayed there several weeks longer in perfect content. he caught the last gleam of the lake as they entered the pass. it had the deep sheen of melted silver, as the waters moved before the slow wind, and he sighed a little when a curve of the cliff cut it wholly from view. "never mind, young william," said the little giant, "you'll see other lakes and other valleys as fine, an' this wouldn't look so beautiful, after all, tomorrow, filled with ragin' sioux huntin' our ha'r right whar it grows, squar' on top o' our heads." young clarke laughed and threw off his melancholy. "you're right," he said briskly. "the lake wouldn't look very beautiful if a half dozen sioux were shooting at me. you came through this pass, now tell us what kind of a place it is." "we ride along by the creek, an' sometimes the ledge is jest wide enough fur the horses an' mules. we go on that way four or five miles, provided we don't fall down the cliff into the creek an' bust ourselves apart. then, ag'in, purvided we're still livin', we come out into a valley, narrow but steep, the water rushin' down it in rapids like somethin' mad. then we keep on down the valley with our hosses lookin' ez ef they wuz walkin' on their heads, an' in four or five miles more, purvided, o' course, once more that we ain't been busted apart by falls, we come out into some woods. these woods are cut by gulleys an' ravines an' they have stony outcrops, but they'll look good by the side o' what you hev passed through." "encouraging, giant!" laughed will. "but hard as all this will be for us to pass over, it will be just as hard for the sioux, our pursuers." "young william," said the little giant approvingly, "i like to hear you talk that way. it shows that you hev all the makin's o' them opty-mists, the bunch o' people to which i belong. i never heard that word till three or four years ago, when i wuz listenin' to a preacher in a minin' camp, an' it kinder appealed to me. so i reckoned i would try to live up to it an' make o' myself a real opty-mist. i been workin' hard at it ever sence, an' i think i'm qualifyin'." "you're right at the head of the class, that's where you are, giant," said boyd heartily. "you've already earned a thousand dollars out of the mine that we're going to find, you with your whistling and cheerfulness bracing us up so that we're ready to meet anything." "what's the use o' bein' an opty-mist ef you don't optymize?" asked the little giant, coining a word for himself. "now, ain't this a nice, narrow pass? you kin see the water in the creek down thar, 'bout two hundred feet below, a-rushin' an' a-roarin' over the stones, an' then you look up an' see the cliff risin' five or six hundred feet over your head, an' here you are betwixt an' between, on a shelf less'n three feet broad, jest givin' room enough fur the horses an' mules an' ourselves, all so trim an' cosy, everythin' fittin' close an' tight in its place." "it's a lot too close and tight for me, giant!" exclaimed will. "i've a terrible fear that i'll go tumbling off the path and into the creek two hundred feet below." "oh, no, you won't, young william. the people who fall off cliffs are mighty few compared with them that git skeered 'bout it. ef you feel a-tall dizzy, jest ketch holt o' the tail o' that rear mule o' mine. he won't kick, an' he won't mind it, a-tall, a-tall. instead o' that it'll give him a kind o' home-like feelin', bein' ez i've hung on to his tail myself so many times when we wuz goin' along paths not more'n three inches wide in the mountain side. you won't bother or upset him. the biggest cannon that wuz ever forged couldn't blast him out o' the path." thus encouraged, young clarke seized the tail of the mule, which plodded unconcernedly on, and for the rest of the distance along the dizzying heights he felt secure. nevertheless his relief was great when they emerged into the rough valley of which the little giant had spoken, and yet more when, still pressing on, they came to the rocky and hilly forest. here they were all exhausted, animals and human beings alike, and they stopped a long time in the shade of the trees. at that point there was no sign of the valley from which they had fled, unless one could infer its existence from the creek that flowed by. looking back, will saw nothing but a mass of forest and mountain, and then looking back a second time he saw rings of smoke rising from points which he knew must be in their valley. he examined and counted them through his glasses and described them to the hunter and the little giant. "the sioux have come down and invaded our pleasant home," said boyd. "there's no doubt about it, and i can make a good guess that they're mad clean through, because they found us gone. they may be signaling now to another band to come up, and then they'll give chase. you've got to know, will, that nothing will make the sioux pursue like the prospect of scalps, white scalps. a sioux warrior would be perfectly willing to go on a month's trail if he found a white scalp at the end of it." "they'll naturally think that we'll turn off toward the south so as to hit the plains ez soon ez we kin," said the little giant. "and for that reason, you think we should turn to the north instead, and go deeper into the mountains?" said boyd. "'pears sound reasonin' to me." "then we'll do it." "but we don't go fur, leastways not today. it wouldn't be more'n two or three hours till night anyhow, an' see them clouds in thar to the south, all thickenin' up. we're going to hev rain on the mountains, an' i think we'd better make another wickiup, ez one o' them terrible sleets may come on." boyd and will agreed with him and a mile farther they found a place that they considered suitable, an opening in which they would not be exposed to any tree blown down by a blizzard, but with a heavy growth of short pines near by, among which the horses and mules might find shelter. then the three worked with amazing speed, and by the time the full dark had come the wickiup was done, the skins that they had brought with them being stretched tightly over the poles. then, munching their cold food, they crawled in and coiled themselves about the walls, wrapped deep in their blankets. contrary to the indian custom, they left the low door open for air, and just when will felt himself well disposed for the night he heard the first patter of the sleet. it was almost pitch dark in the wickiup, but, through the opening, he could see the hail beating upon the earth in streams of white. the old feeling of comfort and security in face of the wildest that the wilderness had to offer returned to him. when they reached clarke valley and built their wickiup he had one powerful friend, but now when the sioux were once more in pursuit, he had two. the little giant had made upon him an ineffaceable impression of courage, skill and loyalty that would stand any test. "the hail's goin' to drive all through the night," giant tom called out in the darkness. "right you are," said the hunter, "and the sioux won't think of trying that pass on such a night. they're back in the valley, in wickiups of their own." "might it not stop them entirely?" asked will. "no, young william, it won't," said the little giant. "they'll come through the pass tomorrow, knowin' thar's only one way by which we kin go, an' then try to pick up our trail when the sleet melts. but tonight, at least, nobody's goin' to find us." they slept late the next morning, and when they crawled out of the wickiup they found the sleet packed about an inch deep on the ground. the horses and mules, protected by the pines, had not suffered much, and, in order that their trail might be hidden by the melting sleet, they packed and departed before breakfast, choosing a northwesterly direction. they picked the best ground, but it was all rough. nevertheless the three were cheerful, and the little giant whistled like a nightingale. "ef i remember right," he said, "we'll soon be descendin', droppin' down fast so to speak, an' then the weather will grow a heap warmer. the sun's out now, though, an' by noon anyway all the sleet will be gone, which will help us a lot." they had been walking most of the time, allowing their animals to follow, which both horses and mules did, not only through long training but because they had become used to the companionship of men. the three might have abandoned them, escaping pursuit in the almost inaccessible mazes of the mountains, but no such thought entered their minds. the horses and mules not only carried their supplies, chief among which being the ammunition, but also the tools with which to work the mine, and then, in will's mind at least, they and more of them would be needed to bring back to civilization the tons of gold. they were now in a fairly level, though narrow, valley, and all three of them were riding. once more they saw far behind them smoke signals rising, and boyd felt sure that the sioux somehow had blundered upon the trail anew. then he and the little giant spoke together earnestly. "the longest way 'roun' is sometimes the shortest way through," said giant tom. "it's no plains for us, not fur many days to come. i'm thinkin' that what we've got to do is to keep on goin' deeper an' deeper into the mountains, an' higher an' higher, too, plum' up among them glaciers, whar the sioux won't keer to foller. then, when we winter a while thar we kin turn back toward the plains an' our search." "looks like good reasoning to me," said boyd. "as i told the boy here, once, we're richer in time than anything else. we must make for the heights. what say you, will?" "i'm learning patience," replied the lad. "it's better to wait than to spill all the beans at once. let's head straight for the glaciers." will felt that there was something terrible about the sioux pursuit. he was beginning to realize to the full the power of indian tenacity, and he was anxious to shake off the warriors, no matter how high they had to go. he knew nothing of the region about them, but he had heard that mountains in many portions of the west rose to a height of nearly three miles. he could well believe it, as he looked north and south to tremendous peaks with white domes, standing like vast, silent sentinels in the sky. they were majestic to him, but not terrifying, because they held out the promise of safety. "if the worst came to the worst, could we live up there on one of those slopes, a while?" he asked. "do you mean by that could we find game enough?" said boyd. "game and shelter both." "we could. like as not the mountain deer are plentiful. and there's a kind of buffalo called the wood bison, even bigger than the regular buffalo of the plains, not often found south of canada, but to be met with now and then in our country. we might run across one of them, and he'd supply meat enough to feed an army. besides, there are bears and deer and smaller game. oh, we'd make out, wouldn't we, tom?" "we shorely would," replied the little giant, "but between you an' me an' the gate post, jim, i think i see somethin' movin' on the slope acrost thar to the right. young william, take your glasses an' study that spot whar the bushes are so thick." "i can just barely make out the figures of men among the bushes," announced will, after a good look. "then they're indians," said boyd with emphasis. "you wouldn't find white men lurking here in the undergrowth. it's a fresh band, hunters maybe, but dangerous just the same. we'd better push on for all we're worth." they urged forward the horses and mules, seeking cover in the deep forest along the slope, but without success, as a faint yell soon told them. at the suggestion of boyd, they stopped and examined the ground. the way was steadily growing steeper and more difficult, and the warriors, who were on foot could make greater speed than the fugitives. "lend me your glasses a minute, young william," said the little giant. but he did not turn the lenses upon the indians. instead, he looked upward. "thar's a narrow pass not fur ahead," he said. "i think we'd better draw into it an' make a stand. the pass is deep, an' they can't assail us on either flank. it will have to be a straight-away attack." "that's lucky, mighty lucky," said boyd with heartfelt thankfulness. "will, you push on with the animals, and maybe if you look back you'll see that what i told you about giant tom's sharpshooting is true." will hurried the horses and mules ahead, following a shallow dip that was the outlet of the deep pass they were seeking. behind them he heard again the yells of the indian warriors, hopeful now of an unexpected triumph. he saw their figures emerging from cover and he judged that they were at least twenty in number. he saw also that the little giant had stopped and was looking at the pursuers with a speculative eye, while his repeating rifle lay easily in the hollow of his arm. then he urged the animals on and presently he looked back a second time. he was just in time to see the breech of the rifle leap to the little giant's shoulder. "leap" was the only word to describe it, his action was so swift and so little time did he waste in taking aim. it all passed in an instant, as he pulled the trigger, and the foremost indian far down the slope threw up his arms, falling backward without a cry. in another instant he pulled the trigger again and another indian fell beside the first. the whole band stopped, uttered a tremendous cry of rage, and then darted into the undergrowth for cover. "two," said boyd. "didn't i tell you, will, that he was a wonder with the rifle?" "i had to do it. i call you both to witness that i had to do it," said the little giant in a melancholy voice. "i'm a hunter o' gold an' not properly a killer o' men, even o' savage men. an' yet i find no gold, but i do kill. sometimes i'm sorry that i happened to be born jest a natcherly good shot. i reckon we'd better whoop up our speed ez much ez we kin now, 'cause after that lesson they'll hang back a while afore follerin'." "that's good generalship," said boyd. will was already urging forward the animals, which, frightened by the shots, were making speed of their own accord toward the pass. the hunter and the little giant followed at a more leisurely gait, with their rifles ready to beat off pursuit. some shots were fired from the bushes, but they fell short, and the two laughed in disdain. "they'll have to do a lot better than that, won't they, giant?" said the hunter. "a powerful sight better, but they'll hope to slip up on us in the dark. it hurts my feelin's to hev to shoot any more of 'em, or to shoot anybody, but i'm afeard i'll hev to do it, jim boyd, afore we git through with this here piece o' business." "in that case, giant, just let your feelings go and shoot your best." will still led on, and, though his heart beat as hard as ever, it was more from the exertion of climbing than from apprehension. he had seen the two wonderful shots of the little giant, he knew what a wonderful marksman boyd was also, and he felt since they were within the shelter of the pass, their three rifles might keep off any number of sioux. the shallow gully up which they were travelling now narrowed rapidly, and soon they were deep in the looming shadow of the pass, which seemed to end blindly farther on. but for the present it was a heaven-sent refuge. at one point, where it widened somewhat, the horses and mules could stand, and there was even a little grass for them. a rill of water from the high rocks was a protection against what they had to fear most of all, thirst, and the three human beings in turn drank freely from it, letting the animals follow. boyd deftly tethered the horses and mules to bushes that grew at the foot of the cliff in the wide space, and then he joined the other two, who, lying almost flat, were watching at the entrance to the pass. the rocks there also gave them fine protection, and they felt they had reached a fort which would test all the ingenuity, patience and courage of the sioux. will drew back behind a stony upthrust, sat up and used his glasses, searching everywhere among the rocks and bushes down the pass. "what do you see, young william?" asked the little giant. "nothing yet, tom, except the bushes, the stones and the slopes of the mountains far across the valley." "nor you won't see nothin' fur some time. took to cover, they hev. an' i don't blame 'em, either. we wouldn't be anxious ourselves to walk up ag'inst the mouths o' rifles that don't miss, an' indians, bein' smart people, don't risk their lives when thar's nothin' to be gained." "then how are they going to get at us?" "not straight-away, but by means o' tricks." "what tricks?" "i don't know. ef they wuz so plain ez all that they wouldn't be tricks. we'll hev to be patient." all three of them drew back into the mouth of the pass, where they found abundant shelter behind the stony outcrops, while the sioux, who lay hidden in the undergrowth farther down the slope, would be compelled to advance over open ground, if they made a rush. young clarke's confidence grew. that wonderful sharpshooting feat of the little giant was still in his mind. in such a position and with such marksmen as boyd and bent, they could not be overwhelmed. "take them glasses o' yourn, young william," said the little giant, "an' see ef you can pick out any o' the sioux down the slope." will was able to trace three or four warriors lying down among the short cedars, apparently waiting with illimitable patience for any good idea that might suggest itself. the others, though out of sight, were certainly near and he was wondering what plan might occur to them. "do you think it likely that they know the pass?" he asked boyd. "hardly," replied the hunter. "they are mountain sioux, but on the whole they prefer the plains." "maybe they think then that they can wait, or at least hold us until we are overcome by thirst!" "no, the little stream of water breaks a way down the slope somewhere, and when they find it they'll know that it comes from the pass. i think they'll attack, but just how and when is more'n i can say. now, will, will you go back where the animals are and cook us a good supper, including coffee? when you're besieged it's best to keep yourself well fed and strong. i saw plenty of dead wood there, tumbled from the cliffs above." young clarke, knowing that he was not needed now at the mouth of the pass, was more than glad to undertake the task, since waiting was hard work. he found the horses and mules lying down, and they regarded him with large, contemplative eyes as he lighted the fire and began to cook supper. the animals were on the best of terms, constituting a happy family, and the eyes with which they regarded will seemed to him to be the eyes of wisdom. "shall we get safely out of this?" he asked, addressing himself to the animal circle. either it was fact, or his imagination was uncommonly lively, as he saw six large heads nod slowly and with dignity, but with emphasis. "all of us?" the six heads again moved slowly and with dignity. "and with you, our faithful four-footed friends, and with the packs that are so needful to us?" the six heads nodded a little faster, but with the same dignity. will was just putting the coffee on to boil when he asked the last question and received the last answer, and he stopped for a moment to stare at the six animals, which were still regarding him with their large, contemplative eyes. could he refuse to believe what he thought he saw? if fancy were not fact it often became fact a little later. those were certainly honest beasts and he knew by experience that they were truthful, too, because he had never yet caught them in a lie. animals did not know how to lie, wherein they were different from human beings, and while human beings were not prophets, at least in modern times, animals, for all he knew, might be, and he certainly intended to believe that the six, for the present, enjoyed the prophetic afflatus. "i accept the omens as you give them," he said aloud. "from this moment i dismiss from my mind all doubt concerning the present affair." then he found himself believing his own words. the omens continued to be favorable. the coffee boiled with uncommon readiness and the strips of venison that he fried over the coals gave forth an aroma of unparalleled richness. filling two large tin cups with the brown fluid he carried them to the watchers at the mouth of the pass, who drained them, each at a single draught. "best you ever made, will," said boyd. "ez good ez anybody ever made, young william," said the little giant. "now i'll bring you strips of venison and crackers," said will, much pleased, "and after you've eaten them you can have another cup of coffee apiece." his little task, his success at it, and the praise of his comrades cheered him wonderfully. when he had taken them the second cups of coffee and had also served himself, he put out the coals, picked up his rifle and rejoined the others. the first faint breath of the twilight was appearing over the mountains. the great ridges and peaks were growing dim and afar the wind of night was moaning. "it'll be dark soon," said the little giant, "an' then we'll hev to watch with all our eyes an' all our ears. onless the sioux attack under kiver o' the night they won't attack at all." "they'll come. don't you worry about that, tom," said boyd. "the sioux are as brave fighters as any that tread the earth, and they want our scalps bad, particularly yours. if i was an indian and loved scalps as they do, i'd never rest until i got yours. the hair is so thick and it stands up so much, i'd give it a place of honor in my tepee, and whenever my warrior friends came in for a sociable evening's talk i'd tell 'em how i defeated you in battle and took your scalp, which is the king scalp." "it's a comply-ment you make me to call my scalp the king scalp, but no indian will ever take it. do you see something stirring down thar 'mong the little cedars? young william, them glasses o' yourn a minute or two." he made a careful study with the glasses, and, when he handed them back, he announced: "they're movin' 'mong the cedars. i made out at least a half dozen thar. ez soon ez it's good an' dark they're goin' to try to creep up on us. well, let 'em. we kin see pretty nigh ez good in the dark ez in the light, can't we, jim boyd?" "i reckon we can see good enough, giant, to draw a bead on anything that comes creeping, creeping after our hair." again will felt pride that he was associated with two such formidable champions of the wild, but he did not let pride keep him from selecting a good high stony outcrop behind which he lay with his rifle ready and his revolver loose in his belt. now and then, however, he held his rifle in only one hand and used the glasses so valuable to him, and which he was beginning to prize so highly. much time passed, however, and it passed slowly. young clarke realized that the other name for the sioux was patience, but it was hard on his nerves, nevertheless. he wanted to talk, he longed to ask questions of the two borderers, but his will kept him from doing so. he was resolved not to appear nervous or garrulous at such a time. the night deepened. the twilight had passed long since. many of the stars did not come out and heavy waves of dusk rolled up the valley. the slopes of the opposite mountain became invisible, nor did will see the dwarf cedars in which his glasses told him a portion of the sioux band had lain hidden. the time was so long that his muscles felt stiff and sore, and he stretched arms and legs vigorously to restore the circulation. moreover the elevation was so great that it was growing quite cold in the pass, and he became eager for the warriors to attack if they were going to attack at all. but he remembered the saying that patience was only another name for sioux and steeled his heart to endure. the three were lying close together, all behind rocky upthrusts, and after a space that seemed a thousand years or so to will the little giant edged toward him and whispered: "young william, you wouldn't mind lendin' me them glasses o' yourn once more?" "as often as you like, giant." "hand 'em over, then. even ef it's night they've got a way o' cuttin' through the dark, an' i feel it's 'bout time now fur the sioux to be comin'. they like to jump on an unsuspectin' foe 'bout midnight." he took an unusually long look and handed the glasses back to will. then he whispered to both the lad and the hunter: "i could make 'em out snakin' theirselves up the pass nigh flat on the rock." "they hope to get so near in the dark that they can spring up and rush us." "i reckon that's jest 'bout thar game, but them glasses o' young william's hev done give them away already. the sioux hev fixed everythin' mighty careful, an' jest one thing that chance hez give us, young william's glasses, is goin' to upset 'em. take a look, jim." "i can see 'em, so many dark spots moving, always moving up the pass and making no noise at all. now, will, you look, and after that we'll make ready with the rifles." will through the glasses saw them quite plainly now, more than a score of dark figures, advancing slowly but quite steadily. he threw the glasses over his shoulder and took up his rifle with both hands. "not yet, young william," said the little giant. "we don't want to waste any bullets, and so we'll wait until jim gives the word. ev'ry army needs a leader. thar ain't but three in this army, but it hez to hev a leader jest the same and jim boyd is the man." will waited motionless, but he could not keep his heart from beating hard, as the sioux, ruthless and bold, came forward silently to the attack. he did not have the infinite wilderness experience of the older two which had hardened them to every form of danger, and his imagination was alive and leaping. the dusky forms which he could now faintly see with the naked eye were increased by fancy threefold and four, and his eager finger slipped to the trigger of his rifle. he was sure they ought to fire now. the sioux were certainly near enough! if they came any closer before meeting the bullets of the defense they would have a good chance to spring up and make a victorious rush. but the word to fire did not come. he glanced at their leader, and boyd was still calmly watching. the three lay very close together, and will heard the hunter whisper to the little giant: "how much nearer do you think i ought to let 'em come, tom?" "'bout ten feet more, i reckon, jim. then though it's night, thar would be no chance fur a feller to miss, onless he shet his eyes, an' we want all our bullets to hit. indians, even the bravest, don't like to rush riflemen that are ez good ez a batt'ry. ef we strike 'em mighty hard the first time they'll fall back on tricks an' waitin'." "good sound reasoning, tom. you hear, will. be sure you don't miss." "i won't," replied the lad. nevertheless those ten minutes, every one of them, had a way of spinning themselves out in such an extraordinary manner that his nerves began to jump again, and it required a great effort of the will to keep them quiet. the black shadows were approaching. they had passed over a stretch of rough ground that he had marked four or five minutes before, and the outlines of the figures were growing more distinct. he chose one on the extreme right for his aim. he could not yet see his features, of course, but he was quite certain that they were ugly and that the man was a warrior wicked beyond belief. before he could fire upon anyone from ambush it was necessary for him to believe the man at whom he aimed to be utterly depraved, and the situation created at once such a belief in his mind. he kept his eye steadily upon the ugly and wicked warrior, and as he watched for his chance and awaited the word from boyd all scruples about firing disappeared from his mind. it was that warrior's life or his, and the law of self-preservation controlled. nearer and yet nearer they came and the time had grown interminable when the hunter suddenly said in a low voice: "fire!" young clarke pulled the trigger with a sure aim. he saw the hideous warrior draw himself into a bunch that sprang convulsively upward, but which, when it fell, lay back, outspread and quiet. then he fired at a second figure, but he was not sure that he hit. the hunter and the little giant were already sending in their third and fourth bullets, with deadly aim, will was sure, and the sioux, after one mighty yell, wrenched from them by rage, surprise and fear, were fleeing down the pass under the fierce hail from the repeating rifles. in a half minute all the shadows, save those outlined darkly on the ground, were gone, and there was complete and utter silence, while the light smoke from the rifles drifted about aimlessly, there being no wind. the three did not speak, but slipping in fresh cartridges continued to gaze down the pass. then will heard a wild, shrill scream behind him that made him leap a foot from the ground, and that set all his nerves trembling. the next moment he was laughing at himself. one of the horses had neighed in terror at the firing, and there are few things more terrifying than the terrified shriek of a horse. "maybe you'd better go back and see 'em, will," said boyd. "they may need quieting. i've noticed that you've a gentle hand with horses, and that they like you." "and mules too," said the little giant. "mine hev already taken a fancy for young william. but mules are much abused critters. you treat 'em well an' they'll treat you well, which is true of all tame animals." young clarke suspected that they were sending him back to steady his own nerves as well as those of the animals after such a fierce encounter, but if so he was glad they had the thought. he was willing enough to go. "nothing will happen while you're gone," said boyd cheerfully. "the sioux, of course, would try to rush us again if they knew you were away, but they won't know it." will crawled until he came to a curve of the cliff that would hide him from any hidden indian marksman, and then he rose to his feet, glad that he was able to stand upright. he found the horses and mules walking about uneasily at the ends of their lariats, but a few consoling strokes from him upon their manes quieted all of them, and, if they found comfort in his presence, he also found comfort in theirs. then he kneeled and drank at the rill, as if he had been parching in a desert for days. chapter v the white dome the tide of cool water restored will's nerves. after drinking he bathed his face in it, and then poured it over his neck. good as he knew water to be he had never known that it could be so very good. it was in truth the wine of life. he shook out his thick hair, wet from the rill, and said triumphantly and aloud to the animals: "we beat 'em back, jim boyd, the little giant and me, and we can do it again. we beat back a whole band of the sioux nation, and we defy 'em to come on again. and you predicted it, all six of you! and you predict that we'll do it a second time, don't you?" he was in a state of great spiritual exaltation, seeing things that others might not have seen, and he distinctly saw the six wise heads of the brutes, dumb but knowing so much, nod in affirmation. "i accept the omen!" he said, some old scrap of latin translation coming into his mind, "and await the future with absolute confidence!" the horses and mules, stirred at first by the shots, and then not caring, perhaps, to rest, began to graze. all sign of alarm was gone from them and will's heart resumed its normal beat. he listened attentively, but no sound came from the pass where his comrades, those deadly sharpshooters, watched. far overhead the cliffs towered, and over them a sky darkly blue. he looked at it a little while, and then went back to the pass. he had left his glasses with them, and they had not been able to discover anything suspicious. "they won't come again into the mouth of the pass," said boyd with confidence. "that rush cost 'em too much. they'll spend a long time thinking up some sort of trick, and that being the case you go now, giant, and have a drink at the stream, and pour water over your head and face as will has done." "so i will, jim. i'm noticing that young william has a lot o' sense, an' after i've 'tended to myself fine i'll come back, an' you kin do ez much fur yourself. a good bathin' o' your face won't hurt your beauty, jim." he was gone a half hour, not hurrying back, because he felt there was no need to do so. meanwhile will lay behind his rock and watched the dusky pass. wisps of vapor and thin clouds were floating across the heavens, hiding some of the stars, and the light was not as good as it had been earlier in the night, but constant use and habit enable one to see through the shadows, and he also had the glasses to fall back upon. but even with their aid he could discern nothing save the stony steep. "they won't come again, not that way, as i told you before," said boyd, when young clarke put down his glasses after the tenth searching look. "when they made the rush they expected to have a warrior or two hit, but they didn't know the greatest marksman in all the world, the little giant, was here waiting for 'em, and if i do say it myself, i'm as good with the rifle as anybody in the west, except tom, and you're 'way above the average too, will. no, they've had enough of charging, but i wish to heaven i knew what wicked trick they're thinking out now." the little giant returned, bathed, refreshed and joyous. "your turn now, jim," he said, "an' you soak your head an' face good in the water. don't dodge it because you think thar ain't plenty o' water, 'cause thar is. it keeps on a-runnin' an' a-runnin', an' it never runs out. stay ez long ez you want to, 'cause young william an' me kin hold the pass ag'inst all the confederated tribes o' the sioux nation, an' the crows an' the cheyennes an' the blackfeet throwed in." boyd departed and presently he too returned, strengthened anew for any task. "now, will," he said, "you being the youngest, and it's only because you're the youngest, you'd better go back there where the horses and mules are. they've got over their fright and are taking their rest again. they appear to like you, to look upon you as a kind of comrade, and i think it's about time you took a bit of rest with them." "but don't hev a nightmare an' kick one o' my mules," said the little giant, "'cause the best tempered mule in the world is likely to kick back ag'in." will smiled. he knew their raillery was meant to cheer him up, because of his inexperience, and their desperate situation. he recognized, too, that it would be better for him to sleep if he could, as they were more than sufficient to guard the pass. "all right," he said. "i obey orders." "good night to you," said the hunter. "good night," said the little giant, "an' remember not to kick one o' my mules in your sleep." "i won't," replied will, cheerfully, as he went around the curve of the wall. he found the horses and mules at rest, and everything very quiet and peaceful in the alcove. the rill murmured a little in its stony bed, and, far overhead, he heard the wind sighing among the trees on the mountain. he chose a place close to the wall, spread two blankets there, on which he expected to lie, and prepared to cover himself with two more. he realized now that he was tired to the bone, but it was not a nervous weariness and sleep would cure it almost at once. he was arranging the two blankets that were to cover him, when he heard a rumbling noise far over his head. at first he thought it was distant thunder echoing along the ridges, but the wisps of cloud were too light and thin to indicate any storm. he saw the horses and mules rise in alarm, and then not one but several of them gave out shrill and terrible neighs of terror, a volume of frightened sound that made young clarke's heart stand still for a moment. the sound which was not that of thunder, but of something rolling and crashing, increased with terrific rapidity, stopped abruptly for a moment or two and then a huge dark object shooting down in front of his eyes, struck the ground with mighty impact. it seemed to him that the earth trembled. he sprang back several feet and all the horses and mules, rearing in alarm, crouched against the cliff. a great bowlder lay partly buried. it had rolled from the edge of the cliff high above, and he divined at once that the sioux had made it roll. they had climbed the stony mountains enclosing the defile, and were opening a bombardment, necessarily at random, but nevertheless terrible in its nature. while he hesitated, not knowing what to do, a second bowlder thundered, bounded and crashed into the chasm. but it struck much farther away. the little giant came running at the sound, leaving boyd on guard at the mouth of the pass, and as he arrived a third rock struck, though, like the second, at a distance, and he knew without any words from will, what the sioux were now trying to do. as he looked up, a fourth crashed down, and it fell very near. "so that's thar trick?" exclaimed the little giant. "simple ez you please, but ez dang'rous ez a batt'ry o' cannon. look out, young william, thar's another." it struck so close to will that he felt the shock and ran back to the shelter of the overhanging cliff, where, driven by instinct, the horses and mules were already crowding. nor did the little giant, brave as he was, hesitate to follow him. "when you're shot at out o' the sky," he said, "the best thing to do is to go into hidin'. one ain't wholly under cover here, but it ud be a long chance ef any o' them rocks got us." "what about jim, watching at the mouth of the pass?" "he won't stir until he hears from me. he'll set thar, unmoved, with his rifle ready, waitin' fur the sioux jest ez ef he expected them to come. i'll slip back an' tell him to keep on waitin', also what's goin' on in here." "skip fast then! look out! that barely missed you! they're sending the rocks down in showers now." the little giant, as agile as a greyhound, vanished around the curve, and will instinctively crowded himself closely and more closely against the stone wall while the dangerous bombardment went on. the animals, their instinct still guiding them, were doing the same, and boyd's brave selim, which was next to him, reached out his head and nuzzled will's hand, as if he found strength and protection in the presence of the human being, who knew so much more about some things than he or his comrades did. will responded at once. "i don't think they can get us here, selim, old boy," he said. "the projection of the wall is slight, but it sends every rock out toward the center. now, if you and your comrades will only be intelligent you'll keep safe." he arranged them in a row along the wall, where none would interfere with the protection of another, and standing with selim's nose in his hand, watched the great rocks strike. luckily at that particular point the bottom of the defile was soft earth and they sank into it, but farther up they fell with a crash on a stony floor, and when they did not split to pieces they bounded and rebounded like ricochetting cannon balls. the little giant returned presently, but as yet no damage had been done, although the bombardment was going on as furiously as ever. "they'll keep it up awhile," he said, as he huddled against the wall by the side of will. "i knowed they would be up to some trick, but i didn't think 'bout them bowlders that lay thick on the mounting. they hev got 'nuff ammunition o' that kind to last a year, but arter a while thar arms will grow tired, an' then they'll grow tired too, o' not knowin' whether they hit or not. it wears out the best man in the world to keep on workin' forever an' forever without knowin' whether he's accomplishin' anything or not. all we've got to do is to hug the wall an' set tight." "wouldn't it be well, giant, when the bombardment lets up, to gather together our own little army and take to flight up the pass?" "an' whar would we fetch up?" "it's not likely to be a box canyon. i've read that they abound more in the southern mountains, and are not met with very often here. and even if the pass itself didn't take us out we might find a cross canyon or a slope that we could climb." "sounds good, young william. we'll git the hosses an' mules ready, packs on 'em, and bridles in thar mouths, an' ez soon ez the arms an' sperrits o' the sioux git tired, i'll hot foot after jim, an' then we'll gallop up the pass." the little giant's psychology was correct. in a half hour the bombardment began to decrease in violence, and in ten more minutes it ceased entirely. then, according to plan, he ran to the mouth of the pass and returned with the hunter, who had promptly accepted their plan. coaxing forth the reluctant animals, which were still in fear, they set off up the great defile, passing among the bowlders, some of great size, which had been tumbled down in search of their heads. "thar's one consolation," said the little giant, philosophically, "ef any o' them big rocks had hit our heads we wouldn't hev been troubled with wounds. my skull's hard, but it would hev been shattered like an eggshell." "they may begin again," said boyd, "but by then we ought to be far away." it was a venture largely at random, but the three were agreed that it must be made. the sioux undoubtedly would resume the bombardment later on, and they might also receive reinforcements sufficient to resume the attack at the mouth of the pass, or at least to keep up there a distant fire that would prove troublesome. every motive prompted to farther flight, and they pushed on as fast as they could, although the bottom of the defile became rough, sown with bowlders and dangerous to the fugitives. they made no attempt to ride, but led the horses and mules at the ends of their lariats, all the animals becoming exceedingly wary at the bad footing. "it's a blind canyon after all!" suddenly exclaimed the little giant in deep disgust. "the stream comes down that mountain wall thar, droppin' from ledge to ledge, an' here we are headed off." "then there's nothing to do," said the hunter, "but choose a good place among the rocks and fight for our lives when they come." will looked up at the steep and lofty slopes on either side. the one on the right seemed less steep and lofty than the other, and upon it hung a short growth of pine and cedar, characteristic of the region. his spirit, which danger had made bold and venturesome, seized upon an idea. "why not go up the slope on the right?" he asked. "it's like the side of a house, only many times as high," said boyd in amazement. "but it isn't," said the lad. "it merely looks so in the dark. we can climb it." "of course we could, but we'd have to abandon the horses and mules and all our packs and stores, and then where would we be?" "but we won't have to leave 'em. they can climb too. you know how you boasted of our horses, and the giant's horses are mules which can go anywhere." "i believe the boy's right," said the little giant. "by our pullin' on the lariats an' thar takin' advantage o' ev'ry footgrip, they might do it. leastways we kin try it." "it's a desperate chance," said the hunter, "but i think with you, tom, that it's worth trying. now, boys, make fast the packs to the last strap, and up we go." "bein' as my hosses are mules," said the little giant, "i'll lead the way, an' you foller, each feller pullin' on two lariats." he started up the slope, whistling gayly but low to his mules, and, after some hesitation, they attacked the ascent, tom still whistling to them in his most cheerful and engaging manner. there was a sound of scrambling feet, and small stones rolled down, but not the mules, which disappeared from sight among the cedars. "thunderation! i wouldn't have thought it!" exclaimed the hunter, "but i believe you're right, will! the mules are climbing the wall. now, we'll see if the horses can do it!" "let me start with 'em!" "all right! but pull hard on the lariat, whenever you feel one of 'em slipping." will attacked the steep wall with vigor, but he had to pull very hard indeed on the lariats before he could make the horses try it. finally they made the effort, and, though slipping and sliding at times, they crept up the slope. behind him he heard boyd, coming with the last two and speaking in encouraging tones to selim. the lariats were a great help, and if will had not hung on to them so hard his horses would have fallen. but he was right in his judgment that the face of the wall was not so steep as it looked. moreover there were little shelves and gullies, and the tough clumps of cedar were a wonderful aid. the horses justified their reputation as climbers, and, although will's heart was in his mouth more than once, and his hands and wrists were cut and bleeding by the pull on the lariats, they did not fall. always he heard in front of him the low and cheerful whistling of the little giant, to his mules, which, sure-footed, went on almost without a slip. at last they drew out upon the crest of the slope and the three human beings and the six animals stood there trembling violently from exertion, the perspiration pouring from them. "my legs are shaking under me," said the hunter. "i'd never have believed that it could have been done, and i know it couldn't, but here we are, anyhow." "it wuz young william who thought of it, and who dared to speak of it," said the little giant, "an' so it's his win." "right you are, giant," said the hunter heartily. "when i looked at that cliff it stood up straight as a wall to me. it was like most other things, it wasn't as hard when you attacked it as you thought it was, but i still don't see how we ever got the animals up, and if i didn't see 'em standing here i wouldn't believe it." will, holding to a cedar, looked into the gulf from which they had climbed. as more of the stars had gone away he could not now see the bottom. the great defile had all the aspects of a vast and bottomless abyss, and he felt that their emergence from it was a marvel, a miracle in which they had been assisted by some greater power. he was assailed by a weakness and, trembling, he drew back from the ledge. but neither the hunter nor the little giant had seen his momentary collapse and he was glad, pardonable though it was. "the ground back o' the cliff seems to be pretty well covered with forest," said the little giant, "an' i reckon we'd better stay here a spell 'til everybody, men an' animals, git rested up a bit." "you never spoke truer words, tom bent," said boyd. "i can make out a fairly level stretch of ground just ahead, and i'll lead the way to it." they crouched there. "crouch" is the only word that describes it, as the horses and mules themselves sank down through weariness, and their masters, too, were glad enough to lie on the earth and wait for their strength to come back. will's senses, despite his exhaustion, were nevertheless acute. he heard a heavy, lumbering form shuffling through a thicket, and he knew that it was an alarmed bear moving from the vicinity of the intruders. he heard also the light tread of small animals. "i judge from these sounds," said boyd, "that we must be on a sort of plateau of some extent. if it was just a knife edge ridge between two chasms you wouldn't find so many animals here. maybe we'd better lay by until day, or until it's light enough to see. in the dark we might tumble into some place a thousand feet deep." "what about the sioux who were on the heights throwing down the rocks?" asked will. "mightn't they come along the cliff and find us here?" "no. the way may be so cut by dips and ravines that it's all but impassable. the chances are a thousand to one in favor of it, as this is one of the roughest countries in the world." "a thousand to one is good enough for me," said will, stretching himself luxuriously on the ground. presently he saw boyd and bent wrapping themselves in the blankets and he promptly imitated them, as a cold wind was beginning to blow down from the northwest, a wind that cut, and, at such a time, a lack of protection from the weather might be fatal. the warmth from the blankets pervaded his frame, and with the heat came the restoration of his nerves. there was also a buoyancy caused by the escape from the sioux, and, for the time being at least, he felt a certain freedom from care. his comrades and the animals did not stir, and, while not thinking of sleep, he fell asleep just the same. he was awakened by a long, fierce shout, much like the howl of hungry wolves, and full of rage and disappointment. he sat up on his blankets, and was amazed to hear the two men laughing softly. "it's them thar sioux, will," said the little giant. "they've found out at last that thar was no outlet at the end o' the pass, an' they've come up it to the end, jest to run ag'inst a blank wall, an' to find that we've plum' vanished, flew away, hosses an' mules an' all." "but won't they find our trail up the cliff?" "no, they won't dream o' sech a thing, but in case they do dream o' it we'll all three creep to the edge an' set thar with our repeatin' rifles. a fine time they'd hev climbin' up thar in the face o' three sharpshooters armed with sech weapons ez ours." will saw at once that their position was well nigh impregnable, at least against foes in the defile, and he crept with the others to the edge, not forgetting his invaluable glasses. a lot of the stars had come back and with the aid of the powerful lenses, he was able to penetrate the depths of the pass, seeing there at least a score of sioux in a group, apparently taking counsel with one another. he could not discern their faces, and, of course, their words were inaudible at the distance, but their gestures expressed perplexity. their savage minds might well believe that witchcraft had been at work, and he hoped that they had some such idea. the climbing of the cliff by the animals was an achievement bordering so closely upon the impossible that even if they saw traces of the hoofs on the lower slopes they would think the spirits of the air had come down to help the fugitives. "what are they doing, young william?" asked the little giant. "nothing that i can see except to talk as if puzzled." "i almost wish they would strike our trail and start up the cliff. we could pick off every one of 'em before they reached the top." "i'd rather they went back." "that's what they're likely to do, young william. even if they saw our trail going up the cliff, they won't follow it. they've had a taste of our marksmanship, an' they know it would be certain death. it looks to me ez if they wuz goin' to drift back down the trail." "you judge right, tom. there they go. i wish i could read the expression on their faces. they must be wild with rage. they're moving a little faster now, and the sooner they disappear from my sight the better." he handed the glasses to the little giant, who, after taking a look, passed them to boyd. the hunter had the last glimpse of them as they turned a curve and were hidden by the rocky wall. "that settles 'em, for the time, anyway," he said, "and now i think we'd better see what kind of a country we've come into. you stay here with the animals, will, they like you and it's easy for you to keep 'em quiet, while giant and me scout about and see the lay of the land." will promptly accepted his part of the task. the horses and mules, alarmed perhaps by such a wild and lonely situation, and tremulous, too, from memories of that frightful climb up the cliff, crowded close about him, while he stroked their noses and manes, and felt himself their protector. the hunter and the little giant vanished without noise, and will waited a full hour before either returned. but he was not lonesome. the horses and mules rubbed their noses against him, and in the dark and the wilderness they made evident their feeling that he was the one who would guard them. the noise of a light footstep sounded and the hunter, who had gone south, stood before him. "it's good news i bring," said boyd. "we're cut off to the south by a cliff that no one can climb, and it seems to run away toward the west for countless miles. the sioux can't reach us from that direction. ah, here is tom! what has he to say?" "what i hev to say is always important," replied the little giant, "but this time its importance is speshul. a couple o' miles to the north a great transverse pass runs out o' the main one, an' cuts off toward the west. it's deep an' steep an' i reckon it bars the way thar." "that being the case, we're on a peninsula," said boyd, "and this peninsula rises in the west toward very high mountains. i can see a white dome off in that direction." "all these facts now bein' diskivered," said the little giant, "i think we've shook off them sioux fur good, though thar ain't no tellin' when we'll run afoul another bunch. but we'll take the good things the moment hez give us, an' look fur what we need, wood, water an' grass." "wood we have all about us," said will. "water is bound to be plentiful in these forested mountains, and we may strike grass by daylight." they began an advance, making it very cautious, owing to the extremely rough nature of the country, and all their caution was needed, as they had to cross several ravines, and the ground was so broken that a misstep at any time might have proved serious. in this manner they made several miles and the general trend of the ground was a rapid ascent. toward dawn they came to a brook flowing very fast, and they found its waters almost as cold as ice. will judged it to be a glacial stream issuing from the great white dome, now plainly visible, though far ahead. a short distance beyond the stream they found an open space with grass for the animals, and very glad, too, they were to reach it, as they were shaken by their immense exertions and the hard trail in the dark. "this valley jest had to be here," said the little giant, "'cause we couldn't hev stood goin' on any more. the hosses an' mules theirselves are too tired to eat, but they will begin croppin' afore long." "and it's so cold up here i think we'd better light a fire and have warm food," said boyd. "we can smother the smoke, and anyway it will pay us to run the risk." it was a task soon done, and long before breakfast was finished the horses and mules were peacefully grazing. will then took his rifle and examined the country himself in some detail, going as far as the great precipice on the south. it was not a gulch or ravine, but the ground dropped down suddenly three or four hundred feet. beyond that the forest extended as before. the view to the west was magnificent and majestic beyond description. up, up rose the slope, cliff on cliff and the imperial white dome beyond! that way, too, apparently, they had to go, as they were cut off by the precipices on all other sides, and at the moment will felt no particular sorrow because of it. the gold had taken a second place in his mind, and with these two wise and brave comrades of his he would penetrate the great mysteries of the west. the southward turn into the plains, following the diagram of the map, could wait. when he returned to the camp he found the animals still grazing and his comrades sitting by the fire, which had now burned down to a bed of coals. "i don't see anything for us to do except to go straight on toward the great snow mountain," he said. "that's about the same conclusion that tom and i have come to," said boyd. "we're likely to get up pretty high, where it's winter all the year 'round, but it's better than running into the hands of the sioux, or any of the mountain tribes. i vote, though, that this army of three spend the rest of the day here, and since storms gather at any time on these uplands, we'd better build another wickiup." "an' make brush shelters for the animals, too," said the little giant. the wickiup was built and they arranged crude, but nevertheless excellent, protection for the horses, a precaution that was soon justified, as it began to rain the following night, and they had alternating rain, snow and sleet for two days and two nights. the animals were able to dig enough grass from under the snow for sustenance, but most of the time they spent in the shelter devised for them. when the fair weather returned and the snow melted, they left the second wickiup, resuming the ascent of the mighty slopes. they were all restored by their rest, and despite the elevation and the wildness they were able to find plenty of forage for the animals. "we've got to be mighty partic'ler with them hosses an' mules," said the little giant, "'cause even ef we should reach the mine without 'em we're bound to hev 'em to pack out the gold fur us. i expect we'll hev to ketch an' train 'bout twenty wild hosses, too, ez we'll need 'em fur all the gold that i'm countin' on findin'. didn't you say thar was that much, young william?" "i didn't give the exact amount," replied the lad, "nor do i suppose anyone can tell from surface indications how much gold there is in a mine, but from the word my father brought we'll need the twenty wild horses and more." "o' course we will. i knowed it afore you said it. i've hunted gold fifteen to twenty years without findin' a speck, an' so it stands to reason that when i do find it i'll find a mountain of it." although the slope rose steadily, the ground, for the present, was not much cut up, and they were able to ride in comfort. much of the country was beautiful and parklike. while far below there were endless brown plains, here were great forests, without much undergrowth, and cold, clear streams, running down from the vast snowy dome that always loomed ahead, and that never seemed to come any nearer. "how high would you say that peak wuz, young william?" asked the little giant. "you're an eddicated lad, an' i reckon you know 'bout these things." "you give me too much credit," laughed will in reply. "one has to have instruments with which to calculate the height of mountains, and i couldn't do it even if i had the instruments, but i should say from what i've heard about the country and the tales of explorers that the peak we're looking at is about , feet high." "i've seen it once before, though from the south," said boyd, "and i've also met an exploring geographer kind of fellow who had seen it and who told me it rose close on to three miles above the sea. different indian tribes have different names for it, but i don't remember any of 'em." "i think i'll call it the white dome," said will, examining it for the hundredth time through his glasses. "from here it looks like a round mountain, though it may have another shape, of course, on the other three sides. it's a fine mountain and as it's the first time i ever saw it i'm going to call it my peak. the forest is heavy and green clear up to the snow line, and beyond that i think i see a vast glacier." two days later they made another stop in a sheltered valley through which ran a mountain torrent. the hunter and the little giant shot two mule deer and a mountain sheep, and they considered the addition to their larder very welcome, as they had been making large inroads on their stores. the weather, too, had grown so cold that they kept a fire burning both day and night. far over their heads they heard a bitter wind of the mountains blowing, and when will climbed out of the valley and turned his glasses toward the white dome he could not see the peak, it was wrapped around so thoroughly by mists and vapors and falling snow. they built the fire large and high on the second night, and as they sat around it they held a serious consultation. they feared incessant storms and blizzards if they rose to still higher levels, and attempted to pass around on the lofty slopes of the peak. it would, perhaps, be wiser to follow the torrent, and enter the plains below, braving the dangers of the sioux. "what good will the gold be to us if we're all froze to death under fifty feet o' snow?" asked the little giant. "none at all," replied the hunter, "and it wouldn't be any good to us, either, if we was to slip down a precipice a thousand feet and fall on the rocks below." will shivered. "i believe i'd rather be frozen to death in tom's way," he said. "then i vote that in the morning, if the wind dies, we turn down the gorge and hunt the plains. what say you, will?" "it seems the wise thing to do." "and you, giant?" "me votin' last, the vote is unany-mous, an' i reckon ef we wuz to put it to the four hosses an' two mules they'd vote jest ez we're votin'. tomorrow mornin', bright an' early, we start on our farewell journey from the mountings." they had saved and tanned the skins of three black bears they had slain, and with big needles and pack thread they had turned them into crude overcoats with the hair inside. now when they put them on they found them serviceable but heavy. at any rate, wrapped in furs they ceased to shiver, though the wind of the mountains was still exceedingly bitter. fortunately the gorge down which the stream flowed was wide, and, the descent not being too rapid, they were able to follow it a long time, though the pace was very slow. at points where the gorge narrowed, they took to the water, and were compelled to lead the animals with great care, lest they slip on the bowlders that were thick in the bed of the stream. when night came they were far down the mountain and there had been no accident, but they were wet to the waist, and as quickly as they could they kindled a big and roaring fire in the lee of a cliff, careless whether or not it was seen by enemies. then they roasted themselves before it, until every thread of clothing they wore was dry, ate heavily of their food and drank two or three cups of coffee apiece. only then did will feel warmed thoroughly. the older men found a fairly level place with sparse grass for the horses, and then they put out their fire. they told the lad there was no need to keep a watch, and, wrapped in his bear overcoat and blankets, he slept in the shadow of the cliff. but the hunter had seen a trace which he believed to be a human footprint. when the little giant knelt in the dusk and looked at it he was of the same opinion. "it's too faint, jim," he said, "fur us to tell whether it wuz made by a white man or a red man." "we don't care to meet either. if it's a white man it may be an outlaw, horse thief or murderer, and that's not the kind of people we want to join us on this gold hunt. if it's indians, they're enemies, no matter to what tribe they belong." "an' then, whichever it is, our repeatin' rifles are our best friends." chapter vi the outlaw when will awoke the next morning he did not open his eyes at once. the air was very cold, but he felt so snug in his bearskin and blankets that he had an immense temptation to turn on his other side and sleep a little more. then, hearing the hum of voices he opened his eyes wide and sat up, seeing, to his great surprise, that the little party in the camp now numbered four instead of three. he stared at the addition, who proved to be a man about thirty, tall and well built, with dark hair and dark eyes. he, too, carried a fine repeating rifle, but his dress was incongruous and striking. he wore a felt hat, broad of brim, with a heavy gilt cord around the crown. a jacket of dark red velvet with broad brass buttons enclosed his strong shoulders and body, but his costume was finished off with trousers, leggings and moccasins of tanned deerskin. will saw the butt of a pistol and the hilt of a knife peeping from under the velvet jacket. a strange costume, he thought, and, when he looked at the man more closely, his face also looked strange. it was that of a civilized human being, of a man who had come from the old, settled eastern regions, and yet it was not. the eyes, set rather close together, now and then showed green in the early dawn. will judged that he was one who had become habituated to the wilderness, and, as he sat in a graceful attitude on a great stone, he certainly showed no signs that his surroundings oppressed him. "mr. martin felton, will," said the hunter. "mr. felton, this is mr. william clarke, who is traveling with us." will stood up, the last trace of sleep gone from his eyes, and gazed at felton. perhaps this was a new comrade, turning their band to four, and strengthening it greatly. but when he glanced at the hunter and the little giant he did not see any great warmth of welcome in their eyes. "traveling, young sir!" said felton in a lightly ironic tone. "you seem to prefer paths of peril. i would not say that this is exactly a safe region for tourists." now will was quite sure he would be no addition to their party. he liked neither his tone nor his manner. "it's true there is plenty of danger," he replied. "but, as i take it, there is no more for me than there is for you." "the lad has put it very well, mr. felton," said the hunter. "however much we may be seeing the sights in these regions, our risks are no greater than yours are." felton, seeming not to notice him, continued, looking directly at will: "you're right to ask the question, but i can say in answer that your dangers are greater than mine. i have no trouble with the sioux. i don't think any indian warrior within a thousand miles of us wants my scalp." "it was our information that they had declared war upon all white people who entered this country. how does it happen that you're immune?" felton smiled, and, in the lad's opinion, it was not a pleasant smile. "i've been among the sioux when they were not at war with us," he replied. "i've done them some good deeds. i've set a broken bone or two for them--i've a little surgical skill--and mahpeyalute, whom we call red cloud, has assured me that no harm will ever be done to me. for that reason i'm wandering among these mountains and on the plains. i noticed on one of your horses picks, shovels and other mining implements, and i thought you might combine gold hunting with sight seeing. i'm something of a gold hunter myself and it occurred to me that we could combine forces. i've heard vaguely about a huge gold lead much farther west, and we four might make a strong party, able to reach it despite the indian troubles." the lad's heart beat the note of alarm and of hostility. was it possible that this man knew anything of his father's great mine? he had to exchange only a few sentences with him to understand that he was not wanted as a fourth partner in the venture. "mr. bent looks for gold casually," he replied, "but our main object is hunting and exploration. i doubt whether we'd want to take on anything else, though we thank you for your offer, mr. felton." felton did not seem at all disconcerted. he made upon will the impression of persistency and of great strength, although the strength might be for evil. "and so you don't think four are better than three," he said. "that was not what i implied," replied will. "what i meant to say was that our party was made up. isn't that the way you feel about it, mr. boyd?" "my feelings to a t," replied the hunter. "and yours, mr. bent?" "you express my state o' mind to perfection, young william. mr. felton is the finest gentleman we hev met in the mountings since we met that band o' sioux, but when a band is made up it's made up." "very well, gentlemen," said felton, no anger showing in his tone. "i will not force myself upon anybody, but i'm no egotist, even if i do say you're the losers. my knowledge of the region and my friendship with the sioux would be of great advantage to you, would be of so much advantage, in fact, that it would make me worth more than a fourth share in all the gold we might find. but, as i said, i will not stay where i'm not wanted. good day!" he strode away among the bushes, and for some distance they saw him descending the side of the mountain, to disappear at last in a forest of ash. then the hunter and the little giant looked at each other significantly. "we saw a footprint of his last night, will," said boyd, "but he came himself this morning, just at dawn. we can't quite make him out. why does he talk of a great mine for which we're looking? do you think your father ever mentioned it to anyone else?" "not that i ever heard. it must be only a guess, based on the sight of the little giant's tools. did you ever see or hear of this man before?" "no, but i know he's no friend of ours. there are renegades and desperadoes in these mountains, who make friends with the indians, and i judge he's one of that kind. i'm mighty sorry we've run across him. he may have a band of his own somewhere, or he may go straight to the sioux with news of us." "he suspects us of a great gold hunt, so great that we are ready to risk anything for it. he showed it." "so he did, and in my opinion the band, that he almost certainly has, will undertake to follow us." "i didn't like him the first minute i saw him," said the little giant. "the reason why i cannot tell, but i do not like thee, mr. felton. haven't i heard a rhyme like that somewhere, young william?" "almost like it, giant, and just like you, the first moment i laid eyes on him, i disliked him. i think he's a danger, a big danger, and so do both of you. i can tell it by the way you act. now, what do you think we ought to do?" "we're not to go down into the plains, that's sure," replied boyd, "because then we'd run into felton and his gang and maybe a band of sioux also. there's only one thing open to us." "go back up the mountain?" "that and nothing else. felton will expect us to come on down, but we'll fool him by going the other way. there's always hiding in rough country and under the cover of great forests. in my opinion, we've both indians and white men now to fight. we must meet their cunning united, and the nearer we get to will's white dome the safer we'll be." "an' it's not so bad, after all!" exclaimed the little giant. "we'll go back and climb and climb till neither reds nor whites kin foller us." "we'll have to go well above the snow line, and camp there awhile," said boyd. "and if we were snowed in for a few weeks it wouldn't hurt, provided we find a well protected hollow. then we'd be sure to shake off all pursuit." "come on, then," said will, with enthusiasm. "it's the white dome that offers us safety." "the white dome it is!" said the little giant, with energy. they put back the packs and saddles and turned once more into the depths of the mountains, riding whenever it was possible, but when the way grew steep, leading the animals at the ends of the lariats. will was rather glad, for many reasons, that they had abandoned the journey into the plains, as the gold mine, for the present at least, seemed scarcely a reality, and the vast peaks and ridges were far more interesting than the brown swells below, besides being safer. moreover, the great white dome loomed before him continually, and he had a certain pride in the thought that they would pass over its towering shoulder. "i've been thinkin' mighty hard," said the little giant. "does it make your head ache much?" asked the hunter. "not in this case. it hurts sometimes, when i try to think forward, but not when i try to think back an' remember things. then i've got somethin' to go on. i'm tryin' to rec'lect whether i ever met a feller who wuz ez unpleasant to my feelin's ez that thar felton." "i know i never did," said will, with emphasis. "me neither," said the hunter. "i don't like men who wear velvet jackets with big brass buttons on 'em. now i think the way is going to be pretty steep for a long distance, and i guess we'll have to walk. lucky these horses and mules of ours are having so much experience in climbing mountains. they go up 'em like goats now." despite the skill of men and beasts as climbers they could not ascend at any great rate, although will noticed that both his comrades were eager to get on. he fancied that the image of felton was in their minds, just as it was in his, and the farther they advanced the more sinister became the memory of the velvet-coated intruder. they passed out upon a great projecting, bald rock, where they paused for many long breaths, and will, through his glasses, was able to see the brown plains far below, sweeping away in swell on swell until they died under a dim horizon. but the distance was so great that he could make out nothing on their surface. night found them on a ridge, where there was enough grass for the horses, and trees still grew, though much dwarfed and stunted. they kept close in the lee of the trees and did not build any fire, although it was very cold, so cold that the bearskin coats again formed a welcome addition to the blankets. boyd said it would be best for them to keep watch, although little danger was anticipated. still, they could not be too cautious, and will, who insisted on mounting guard in his turn, was permitted to do so. the little giant kept the first watch and will the second, beginning about midnight. giant tom, who awakened him for it, went almost instantly to sleep himself, and the lad was left alone. he lay upon a rather wide shelf, with his two comrades only a few feet away, while the horses and mules were back of them, having withdrawn as much as they could into the stubbly pines and cedars in order to protect themselves from the cold wind. will heard one of them stir now and then, or draw a deep breath like a sigh, but it merely formed an under note in the steady whistling of the wind, which at that height seemed to have an edge of ice, making him shiver in all his wrappings. nevertheless, he watched as well as one might under such circumstances, feeling himself but a mote on the side of a great mountain in all the immensity of the wilderness. surely the hunter was right when he said there was little danger. he did not know from what point in so much blackness and loneliness could danger be apprehended, but he believed, nevertheless, that danger was near. the whistling of the bitter wind seemed to him sinister and threatening, and yet a wind was only a wind. it must be circumstances going before that had given it that threat. he knew the mind could be so prepared by events that it became a sensitive plate, receiving upon its surface impressions that were, in reality, warnings. stronger and shriller grew the wind, and stronger and shriller was its warning. he had been lying upon his side with his rifle thrust forward, and now he sat up. some unknown sense within him had taken cognizance of a threatening note. listening intently he heard only the wind, but the wind itself seemed always to bear a menace on its front. he rose to his knees, and used all his powers of eye and ear. the animals did not stir, and the hunter and the little giant slept in deep peace. yet will's own pulses were beating hard. he began to denounce himself as one who took alarm because of the darkness and desolation, but it did not make his pulses grow quiet. still keeping his rifle ready for instant use, he crawled noiselessly toward the edge of the ledge, which was not more than twenty feet away. half the distance, and he stopped suddenly, because his ears had distinctly brought to him a light sound, as if a pebble had fallen. will was not a son of the wilderness by birth, but he was fast becoming one of its adopted children, making its ways second nature, and, when the light note of the falling pebble was registered upon his ear, he flattened himself upon the ground, thrusting forward a little the muzzle of his rifle. it is doubtful if the keen eyes of a trailing indian could have seen him there in the dark as he waited patiently until such time as a second pebble might fall. the second sound did not come, but the sensitive plate that was his mind registered an impression. something new and strange appeared upon its surface, and he felt that it was a hostile figure. at last it detached itself from the general dusk, darker and almost formless, and resolved itself into a head, that is a part of a head, from the eyes up. the eyes, set a little near together, were staring intently at the camp, trying to separate it into details, and will, unseen himself, was able to recognize the eyes and forehead of felton. he could also trace the glittering gold band around the crown of the wide-brimmed hat that surmounted the head, and, if he had felt any doubts before, the yellow cord would have convinced him that it was the sinister intruder of the morning. he saw one hand steal up over the ledge. the other, holding a revolver, followed in an instant, and then the lad, knowing in his heart that treacherous and black murder was intended, threw up his own rifle and pulled the trigger. he fired practically at random, doubting that the bullet would hit, but there was the sound of an oath, of scraping feet and a thud, while the gorges and ravines of the mountain sent back the crack of the rifle in many echoes. the hunter and the little giant were awake in a flash, but they did not spring to their feet. they were far too alert and experienced to expose themselves in such a manner, but they crawled forward, fully armed, and lay beside will. "what was it?" whispered boyd. "it was the man of the morning, felton. he was about to pull himself up on the cliff. he had a pistol in one hand and he meant to murder us." "i didn't see him, but i haven't the slightest doubt you are right. and of course he had men as black-hearted as himself with him. he wouldn't have dared such a thing alone. don't you see it that way, giant?" "thar's no other way to see it, jim. felton is the leader of a band, a heap wuss than the sioux, but young william, here, has been smart 'nough to block his game." "that is, it's blocked for the time. he's down there with his band, waiting for another chance at us. now, will, you slip back and see that the horses and mules are secure, that they can't break their lariats, when they get scared at the shooting that's going to happen mighty soon. keep down on your hands and knees. don't give 'em a chance to send a bullet at you in the dark." the lad obeyed orders and found the animals now fairly quiet. they had stamped and reared somewhat at the sound of his shot, but their alarm had soon subsided. he went among them, stroking their noses and manes, showing all the power over animals that the hunter and the little giant had soon detected in him, and they signified their gladness at his presence. while he stroked them he whispered to them gently, speaking words of courage in their ears, but at the same time, he did not neglect to see that the lariats were fastened securely. then, confident that the animals would not fall into a panic no matter what happened, he went back and found that boyd and bent were creeping toward the edge of the cliff. lying almost flat, he joined them, and the hunter explained their plan of battle. "i take it that they're all on foot," he said, "and even so they can come only by the path we followed. it's too steep everywhere else for them to make a rush upon men armed as we are." "an' we, hid here on the ledge, may get a chance to pick 'em off," said the little giant. "look, the night's beginnin' to favor us. more stars are comin' out, an' it's lighter all along the mountain. lend me them glasses o' yourn, young william." will passed them to him, and the man, who was now at the edge of the ledge, made a very minute examination of the slopes. then he handed the glasses back to the lad, and pushed his rifle a little farther forward. will, in the increasing light, caught a glimpse of his face, and he was startled by its look of deadly hate. "you've seen one of them?" he said. "yes," replied the little giant. "he's a-layin' among the rocks on the other side o' that deep ravine, too fur away fur any ordinary bullet, but ef thar's one thing i'm proud of it's my rifle shootin'. i hate to do it, but they've come here to murder us an' we've got to teach 'em it's dang'rous business." will, putting the glasses to his own eyes, was able to pick out the man whom the little giant had seen. it was not felton, but a fellow in deerskins who crouched in fancied security in a sort of shallow alcove of the cliff. will regarded him as one already dead, and his opinion was only a moment or two before fact, as the little giant pulled the trigger of his great repeating rifle, the mountain burst into many echoes, and the brigand, rolling from his alcove, fell like a stone into the depths of the chasm. will, listening in awe, heard his body strike far below. then came a terrible silence, in which his heart beat heavily. "it was a great shot, giant," whispered boyd, at length, "but you make no other kind. it wasn't felton, was it?" "no." "i didn't think it would be. after will gave the alarm i knew he'd keep well out of sight. his kind when they're leaders always do. you've given 'em a hint, giant, that they can't pass this way, the kind of hint that means most with brigands." "but two hints will be better than one, jim," said tom. "i'm thinkin' they're still down thar 'mong the rocks, hopin' to pick us off when we ain't watchin'. but we'll be watchin' all the time. in an hour mebbe we'll get a chance to tell 'em a second time they can't pass, an' then i think we'd better light out afore day." "so do i. will, take your glasses and keep searching among the rocks." the lad, who saw that he could now serve best as the eyes of the little army of three, picked out every crag and hollow with the glasses, but he did not find any human beings. a half hour later several shots were fired from distant points by concealed marksmen, and will heard the bullets chipping on the stones, although none of them struck near. evidently the rifles had been discharged almost at random. meanwhile, the number of stars in the heavens increased and new peaks and ridges swam into the light. will began another minute examination with the glasses, and he finally became convinced that he saw a human figure outstretched on a small shelf. as he looked longer the details became more clear. it was undoubtedly a man seeking a shot at them. he called the attention of the little giant, who took the glasses himself, gazed a while and then resumed his rifle. will saw that look of menace come over his face again and he also regarded the man on the shelf as already dead. the little giant pulled the trigger and will, watching through the glasses, saw the outlaw quiver convulsively and then lie quite still. the shelf had become his grave. the lad shivered a little. his lot truly was cast among wild and terrible scenes. "i'm thinking the double hint will be enough," said boyd. "if felton is the man i took him to be when i saw him in the morning, he won't care to risk his skin too much. nor can any leader of desperadoes keep on bringing up his men against shooting like yours, giant. and i want to say again, tom, that you're certainly the greatest marksman in the world. you're so great that there's no occasion to be modest about it. it's evident to anybody that you're the best on all this round globe." the little giant said nothing, but in the dim light will saw his face flush with gratification. "the stars are still gathering," said the lad, "and every minute there is more light on the mountains. suppose we take advantage of tom's double hint and make at once for the higher ridges." "we can do so," said boyd. "it's not so dark now that we can't see the way, and if they still have any notion of besieging us we may be hours ahead before they discover our absence. will, you talk a little to the animals and loose the lariats, while giant and i watch here. then we'll join you and make the start." will was among the horses and mules in an instant, stroking them, whispering to them, and soothing them. he was also half through with the task of replacing the packs when boyd and bent came. the rest done, they started up the steep natural trail, fortunately hidden at that point from any watchers below. boyd led, picking the way, will was among the animals and the little giant, with the rifle that never missed, covered the rear. higher and higher they went, and, when day broke, they were once more in the scrub pines and cedars, with a cold wind blowing and nipping at their ears and noses. but boyd, who went far back on the trail, could discover no sign of felton's band, and they concluded to make camp. "we've all been tried enough for one night," said boyd. "men, horses and mules alike need fresh breath and new nerves." but before they could find a suitable place it began to rain, not a sweeping storm, but the cold, penetrating drizzle of great heights. now their bearskin coats protected them in part, but the animals shivered, and the way became so slippery that they had to advance on those heights with exceeding caution and slowness. the rain soon turned to snow, and then back to rain again, but the happy temperament of the little giant was able to extract consolation from it. "snow and rain together will hide what trace of a trail we may leave," he said. "ef this keeps up, felton and his gang will never be able to find us again." despite the great dangers of the advance they pushed on upward until they came to a region that will believed must be above the clouds. at least, it was free there from both rain and snow, and below him he saw such vast areas of mists and vapors that the top of the ridge seemed to swim in the air. it was now about noon, and, at last, finding a nearly level place, they sank down upon it, exhausted. nevertheless, the little giant was cheerful. "i'm clean furgittin' all 'bout that gold," he said, "my time now bein' devoted mostly to foot races, tryin' to beat out indians, outlaws an' all sorts o' desprit characters, in which i hev been successful so fur. my real trade jest now is that o' runner an' mounting climber, an' i expect to git a gold medal fur the same." he began to whistle in the most wonderful, birdlike fashion, a clear, sweet volume of sound, one popular air of the time following another, every one delivered in such perfect fashion that will forgot the wet and the cold in the pleasure of listening. "now," said boyd, "there's nothing for it but to start a fire, even though it may show where we are. but we have an advantage in being above the clouds and mists. then, if the outlaws come we can see 'em coming, though i think our trail is wholly lost to 'em." skilled as the two men were in building fires, they had a hard task now, as the wood, besides being scarce, was thoroughly soaked with wet, but they persisted, using flint and steel in order to save their matches. just when a little blaze began to show signs of living and growing, will, in his search for fallen and dead wood, turned into a narrow way that led among lofty rocks. it was wet and slippery and he followed it a full hundred yards, but seeing that it was going to end in a deep recess or cavern he turned back. he had just started the other way when he heard a fierce growling sound behind him and the beat of heavy feet. whirling about he saw an enormous beast charging down upon him. it would scarcely be correct to say that he saw, instead he had a blurred vision of a huge, shaggy form, red eyes, a vast red mouth, armed with teeth of amazing length and thickness, and claws of glistening steel, huge and formidable. everything was magnified, exaggerated and infinitely terrible. the lad knew that it was a grizzly bear, roused from its lair, and charging directly upon him. he shouted an alarm, fired once, twice and thrice with the repeating rifle, but the bear came on as fiercely as ever. he felt, or imagined he felt, its hot breath upon him, and leaping aside he scrambled up the rocks for dear life. the bear ran on, and settling himself in place he fired at it twice more. the hunter and the little giant, who appeared at the head of the pass, also gave it two bullets apiece, and then the monster toppled over not far from their fire, and after panting a little, lay still. the little giant surveyed the great beast with wonder. "the biggest i ever saw," he said, "an' it took nine bullets to bring him down, provided you hit him ev'ry time you fired, young william. ef this is what you're goin' to bring on us whenever you leave the camp i 'low you'd better stick close to the fire." "he came out of a cavern at the end of the little ravine," said the lad. "of course, when i went visiting up that way i didn't know he had a home there." "it 'pears that he did have a home thar, an' that he was at home, too. now, i 'low you'd better talk a little to your friends, the hosses and mules. they're pow-ful stirred up over the stranger you've brought 'mong us. hear 'em neighin' an' chargin'." will went among the animals, but it took him a long time to soothe them. to them the grizzly bear smell was so strong and it was so strongly suffused with danger that they still panted and moved uneasily after he left them. "now, what are you goin' to do with him?" asked the little giant, looking at the huge form. "we ain't b'ar huntin' on this trip, but it 'pears a shame to leave a skin like that fur the wolves to t'ar to pieces. we may need it later." "we don't have to leave it," said boyd. "a big bearskin weighs a lot, but one of the horses will be able to carry it." he and the little giant, using their strong hunting knives, took off the great skin with amazing dexterity, and then hung it on a stout bough to dry. as they turned away from their task and left the body of the bear, they heard the rush of feet and long, slinking forms appeared in the narrow pass where the denuded body of the monster lay. "the mountain wolves," said the little giant. "it's not likely that they've had such a feast in a long time. i'd like to send a bullet among 'em, but it's no use. besides, they're actin' 'cordin' to their lights. the lord made 'em eaters o' other creeturs, an' eat they must to live." will heard the fierce snarling and growling as the wolves fought for places at the body of the bear, and, although he knew as the little giant had said, that they were only obeying the call of nature, he could not repress a shudder at the eagerness and ferocity in their voices. once, he climbed a high rock and looked down at them. they were mountain wolves of the largest and most dangerous kind, some reaching a length of seven feet. he watched them with a sort of fascinated awe, and long after he left the rock he still heard the growling. when it ceased he went back to his perch again and saw only the great skeleton of the bear, picked clean, and the last wolf gone. that afternoon the two men took down the vast skin of the grizzly and scraped it with their hunting knives, working on it a long time, and also admiring the length and luxuriance of the hair. "it shows that this big fellow lived high upon the mountains where there's lots of cold," said boyd. "why, this is really fur, not hair. maybe he never saw a human being before, and being king of all his range he couldn't have dreamed that he would have been killed by something flying through the air, and that his body would find a scattered grave in the stomachs of wolves." "ef the worst comes to the worst, an' it grows too awful cold," said the little giant, "this will make a splendid sleeping robe, big enough fur all three of us at the same time." they kept their fire going all day and all night, and they also maintained a continuous watch, the three taking turns. more snow fell and then melted, and they were glad that it was so, as they felt that the trail was now hidden completely. they also kept down the blaze from their fire, a great bed of coals now having formed, and, as they were in a bowl, the glow from it could not be seen more than ten or fifteen yards away. at dawn they set out again under cloudy skies with a raw, cold wind always blowing, and advanced slowly, owing to the steep and dangerous nature of the way. once more they replenished their larder with mountain sheep and mule deer, and packed upon the horses all they could carry. the hunter and the little giant agreed now that the sky was ominous, and they had more to fear from it than from pursuit by either indians or felton's outlaws. "i tell you, jim, an' you too, young william," said the little giant, "that we'd better do what would have been done by the big grizzly that's now runnin' in the stomachs o' mounting wolves." "what's that?" asked will. "hole up! when you can't do anythin' else hole up an' wait 'til the skies clear." "that would be simple," said boyd, "if only we three human beings had to hole up, but while we might drive the horses and mules into a cave shelter they'd have nothing to eat." "what you want to do, jim boyd, is to cultivate hope. i won't say you're a grouchy man, 'cause you ain't, but mighty few men are hopeful enough. now, i want you to hope that we'll not only find a cave shelter for the beasts, but water an' grass fur 'em." "well, i hope it." "that bein' the case, i want to tell you that i've been ahead a little, an' the ground begins to slope off fast. i think we'll soon strike a canyon or valley a few miles deep, more or less. that canyon or valley will hev water in it, an' bein' so sheltered it's bound to hev grass, too. what more could you ask? thar we'll stay till times grow better." "you've arranged it all mighty well in your mind." "an' that bein' the case, let's go on, an' see ef i hevn't arranged it right." the little giant soon proved that he had read the mountain signs aright, as they came to a great descent, the steep walls enclosing a valley of vast depth. far down will was able to see the glimmer of a little lake and the green of grass. "it's our home for a spell," said boyd. "you were right, giant. you're the only prophet i've ever known." "you'd do a heap better, jim boyd, ef you'd pay more attention. i told you awhile ago to cheer up an' you cheered, then i told you we'd find a nice home-like valley, an' here it is, a couple o' thousan' feet deep, an' with water an' grass, ez young william's glasses tell us, an' with cave shelter, too, ez my feelin's ez a prophet tell me." the hunter laughed, and the little giant burst into a flood of cheerful, whistling song. in his optimistic mind all affairs were already arranged to the satisfaction of everybody. nevertheless, it took them a long time to find a way by which the horses could descend, and it required their utmost skill to prevent falls. when they finally stood upon the floor of the valley, animals and human beings alike were weak from nervous strain, and the little giant, wiping his perspiring brow, said: "we're here, but lookin' back i kin hardly see how we ever got here." "but being here," said boyd, "we'll now scout around and find the fine house that you as a prophet have promised to us." the three, agreeing, began at once the task. chapter vii the beaver hunter it was perhaps fortunate for the explorers and fur hunters that the great mountains of northwestern america abounded in swift, clear streams and little lakes, many of the lakes being set at a great height in tiny valleys, enclosed by forests and lofty cliffs. there was no dying of thirst, and about the water they always found the beaver. wood, too, was sure to be plentiful and, in the fierce cold of the northwestern winters they needed much of it. if the valleys were not visited for a long period, and often the indians themselves did not come to them in years, elk and other game, large and small, made a home there. it was into one of these most striking nooks that the three had now come. they had been in a valley of the same type before, but this was far deeper and far bolder. there were several acres of good grass, on which the horses and mules might find forage, even under the snow, and the lake, two or three acres in extent, was sure to contain fish good for eating. but the two men examined with the most care the rocky, western cliff, weathered and honeycombed by the storms of a thousand centuries. as they had expected, they found great cave-like openings at its base, and after much hunting they decided upon one running back about fifty feet, with a width half as great, and a roof varying from seven to twenty feet in height. the floor, fairly level, sloped rather sharply toward the doorway, which would protect them against floods from melting snows. the interior could be fitted up in a considerable degree of comfort with the material from their packs and furs they might take. they found about fifty yards away another, though shallower, cavern which will, with his gift for dealing with animals, could induce the horses and mules to use in bad weather. he proved his competency for the task a few hours after their arrival by leading them into it, tolling them on with wisps of fresh grass. "that settles it so far as they are concerned," said boyd, "and we had to think of them first. if we're snowed in here it's of the last importance to us to save our animals." "an' we're goin' to be snowed in, i think," said the little giant, looking at the sombre heavens. "how high up did you say we wuz here, young william, ten miles above the level o' the sea?" "not ten miles, but we're certainly high, high enough for it to be winter here any time it feels like it. now i'm going to rake and scrape as many old dead leaves as i can find into the new stone stable. the floor is pretty rough in places, and we don't want any of our beasts to break a leg there." "all right, you set to work on it," said boyd, "and giant and me will labor on our own house." will toiled all the day on the new stable, and he enjoyed the homely work. sometimes he filled in the deeper places in the floor with chunks of dead wood and then heaped the leaves on top. when it was finished it was all in such condition that the animals could occupy it without danger, and he also set up a thick hedge of boughs about the entrance, allowing only four or five feet for the doorway. even if the snow should be driving hard in that direction the animals would yet be protected. then he led them inside and barred them there for the night. he was so much absorbed in his own task that he paid small heed to that of the men, but he was enthusiastic when he took a little rest. they had unpacked everything, and had put all the extra weapons and ammunition on shelves in the stone. they had made three wooden stools and they had smoothed a good place for cooking near the entrance, whence the smoke could pass out. they had also cut great quantities of firewood which they had stored along the sides of the cavern. about nightfall the hunter shot an elk on the northern slope, and all three worked far into the night at the task of cleaning and cutting up the body, resolving to save every edible part for needs which might be long. all of it was stored in the cavern or on the boughs of trees, and leaving the horses to graze at their leisure on the grassy acres they lay down on their blankets in the cavern and slept the sleep of the little death, that is the sleep of exhaustion, without a dream or a waking moment. will did not awake until the sun of dawn was shining in the cavern, although it was at its best a somewhat obscure sun, and the dawn itself was full of chill. when he went outside he found that heavy clouds were floating above the mountains and masses of vapor hung low over the valley, almost hiding the forest, which was thickest at the northern end and the lake which cuddled against the western side. "i look for a mighty storm, maybe a great snow," said boyd. "all the signs are here, but it may hang about for several days before coming, and the more time is left before it hits the better for us. it was big luck for us to find so deep a valley just when we did. now, will, suppose you take the beasts out to pasture and by the time you get back giant and me will have breakfast ready." will found the horses and mules quite comfortable in the new stable and they welcomed him with neighs and whinnies and other sounds, the best of which their vocal cords were capable. the friendship that he had established with them was wonderful. as the little giant truly said, he could have been a brilliant success as an animal trainer. perhaps they divined the great sympathy and kindness he felt for them, or he had a way of showing it given to only a few mortals. whatever it may have been, they began to rub their noses against him, the big horse, selim, finally thrusting his head under his arm, while the mules proudly marched on either side of him as he led the way down to the pasture. "ain't it wonderful," said the little giant, who saw them from the mouth of the cavern where he and boyd were cooking, "the way the boy has with animals? my mules like me, but i know they'd leave me any minute at a whistle from young william, an' follow him wherever he went." "same way with that horse of mine, selim. he'd throw me over right away for will. he's a good lad, with a clean soul and a pure heart, and maybe the animals, having gifts that we don't have, to make up for gifts that we have and they haven't, can look straight into 'em. do you think, giant, that felton could have had a line on our mine?" "what's your drift, jim?" "could he have been out here somewhere when the captain, will's father, found it, and have got some hint about its discovery? maybe he guesses that will's got a map, and that's what he's after. he wouldn't have followed us at such terrible risks, unless he had a mighty big motive." "that's good reasonin', jim, an' i think thar's somethin' in your notion. ef it's so, felton will hang on to the chase o' us ez long ez he's livin', an' fur the present, with sioux on one side o' us an' outlaws on the other, i'm mighty glad we're hid away here in so deep a cut in the mountings." "so am i, giant. i think that coffee is boiling now. call the lad." "young william! young william!" cried the little giant. "don't you dare to keep breakfus' waitin' the fust mornin' we've moved into our new home." after breakfast will and bent worked on the cavern, while boyd went hunting on the slopes. they cut many poles and made a palisade at the entrance to the great hollow, leaving a doorway only about two feet wide, over which they could hang the big bearskin in case heavy wind, rain or snow came. then they packed the whole floor of the cavern with dry leaves, making a kind of matting, over which they intended to spread furs or skins as they obtained them. "caves are cold when left to theirselves," said the little giant, "an' it's lucky thar's a good nateral place fur our fire jest beside the door. we'll have lots o' meat in here, too, 'cause jim's a fine hunter an' the valley is full o' game. thar must be a lot o' grizzly bears roun' in these mountings, too, young william. wouldn't it be funny ef we went out some day an' come back to find our new house occupied by a whole family o' fightin' grizzlies, every one o' them with iron claws, ten inches long?" "no, it wouldn't be funny, giant, it would be tragic." "ef you jest knew it, young william, we're mighty well off. many a trappin' outfit hez been froze in in the mountings, in quarters not half so good ez ours." boyd shot another elk and smaller deer, and on the next day secured more game, which they cured, concluding now that they had enough to last them indefinitely. will and the little giant, meanwhile, had been working on the house, and boyd, his hunting over, joined them. the cured skins of the animals were put over the leaf thatch of the floor as they had planned, and as they procured them they intended to hang more on the walls, for the sake of dryness and warmth. although the clouds threatened continuously the storm still held off. they expected every morning to wake up and find the snow drifting, but the sun always showed, although dim and obscured by vapors. will still led the horses and mules down to the grass every morning, and, every night, led them back to the new stone stable. the valley began to wear the aspect of home, of a home by no means uncomfortable, but on the sixth night there will was awakened by something cold and wet striking upon his face. he went to the door, looked out and saw that the snow they had been expecting so long had come at last. it was thick, driving hard, and for the first time he hung in place the great bearskin, securing it tightly with the fastenings they had arranged and then went back to sleep. he was the first to awake the next morning, and pushing aside the bearskin, he looked out to see snow still falling and apparently a good six inches in depth already. "wake up, jim, and you, too, giant!" he called. "here's our storm at last, and lucky it is that we're holed up so well." boyd joined him. the snow was so dense that they could not see across the valley, but it was not driving now, merely floating down lazily and persistently. "that means it will come for a long time," said boyd. "snow clouds are like men. if they begin to pour out their energy in vast quantities they're soon exhausted, but if they work in deliberate fashion they do much more. i take it that this snow won't stop today, nor maybe tonight, nor the next day either." "we can stand it," said will. "we're well housed up and we're safe from invasion. if you and tom will get breakfast i'll feed the horses and mules." they had employed a large part of the time cutting the thick grass with their hunting knives, and it was now stored in the stable in a considerable quantity, out of the reach of the longest neck among the horses and mules. they were responsive as usual when he came among them, and nuzzled him, because they liked him and because they knew he was the provider of food, that is, he was in effect a god to them. will talked to the animals and gave to every one his portion of hay, watching them with pleasure as they ate it, and returned thanks in their own way. when he made his way back through the snow, breakfast was ready and, although they were sparing with the coffee and bread, every one could have all the meat he wished. "now, there'll be nothing for us to do but sit around the house," said boyd, the breakfast over. "which means that i kin put in a lot o' my spare time readin'," said the little giant. "young william, bring me my shakespeare! what, you say i furgot to put it in my pack! well, then bring me my copy o' the declaration o' independence. i always like them words in it, 'give me lib'ty or give me death!' '_sic semper tyrannis!_'" "'give me liberty or give me death' is not in the declaration of independence, giant. those words were used by patrick henry in an address." "well, they ought to hev been thar, an' ef patrick henry hadn't been so fresh an' used 'em first they would a-been. but you can't go back on '_sic semper tyrannis!_'" "they couldn't possibly be in the declaration, giant, because they're latin." "i reckon the signers o' the declaration wuz good enough to write latin an' talk it, too, ef they wanted to." "they were used eighteen or nineteen hundred years ago by a roman." "i guess that's one advantage o' livin' early. you kin git the fust chance at what's best. anyway, they did say a lot o' rousin' things in the declaration, though i don't remember exactly what they wuz. but i see i won't hev no chance to git on with my lit'ry pursuits, so i think i'll jest do chores about the house inside." he went to work in the best of spirits. will had seldom seen a happier man. he fixed shelves in the stone, arranged the materials from their packs, and all the time he whistled airs, until the cavern seemed to be filled with the singing of nightingales, mocking birds and skylarks. will and boyd began to help him, though will stopped at times to look out. on every occasion he reported that the snow was still drifting down in a steady, thick, white stream, and that he could not see more than thirty or forty yards from the door. about eleven o'clock in the morning, when he pulled the bearskin aside for perhaps the sixth time, he heard a sound which at first he took to be the distant moan of the wind through a gorge. but he had not heard it on his previous visits, although the wind had been blowing all the morning, and he stood there a little while, listening. as he did not hear it again just yet, he thought his fancy had deceived him, but in a minute or so the sound came once more. it was a weird note, carrying far, but he seemed to detect a human quality in it. and yet what human being could be out there in that lone mountain valley in the wild snow storm? it seemed impossible, but when he heard it a third time the human quality seemed stronger. he beckoned to the hunter and little giant. "come here," he said, "and tell me if my imagination is playing tricks with me. it seems to me that i've heard a human voice in the storm." the two came to the doorway and, standing beside him, listened. once more will discerned that note and he turned an inquiring face to them. "there!" he exclaimed. "did you hear it? it sounded to me like a man's voice!" neither boyd nor bent replied until the call came once more and then boyd said: "it's not your imagination, will. it's a man out there in the snow, and he's shouting for help. why he should expect anybody to come to his aid in a place like this is more'n i can understand." "he's drawin' nearer," said the little giant. "i kin make out the word 'hello' said over an' over ag'in. maybe felton's band has wandered on a long chase into our valley, an' it's some o' them lost from the others in the storm, callin' to em." "like as not," said the hunter. "the snow has covered up most of the traces and trails we've left, and anyway they couldn't rush this cavern in the face of our rifles." "it's no member of felton's gang," said will, with great emphasis. "how do you know that?" asked boyd in surprise. "i can scarcely tell. instinct, i suppose. it doesn't sound like the voice of an outlaw, though i don't know how i know that, either. hark, he's coming much nearer! i've an idea the man's alone." "in the storm," said the little giant, "he's likely to pass by the cavern, same ez ef it wuzn't here." "but we mustn't let him do that," exclaimed will. "i tell you it's a friend coming! a man we want! besides, it's no indian! it's a white man's voice, and we couldn't let him wander around and perish in a wilderness storm!" the hunter and the little giant glanced at each other. "a feller that kin talk with hosses an' mules, an' hev the toughest mule eat out o' his hand the fust time he ever saw him may be able to tell more about a voice in the wilderness than we kin," said the little giant. "i don't believe you're wrong," said the hunter with equal conviction. will threw aside the bearskin and dashed out. the two men followed, their rifles under their fur coats, where they were protected from the storm. the voice could now be heard very plainly calling, and boyd and bent were quite sure also that it was not one of felton's band. it truly sounded like the voice of an honest man crying aloud in the wilderness. will still led the way and, as he approached, he gave a long, clear shout, to which the owner of the voice replied instantly, not a hundred yards away. then the three pressed forward and they saw the figure of a man, exaggerated and gigantic in the falling snow. behind him stood three horses, loaded heavily but drooping and apparently almost frozen. he gave a cry of joy when the three drew near, and said: "i called upon the lord when all seemed lost, but i did not call in vain." he was tall, clothed wholly in deerskin, and with a fur cap upon his head. his figure was one of great strength, but it was bent somewhat now with weariness. the little giant uttered an exclamation. "by all that's wonderful, it's steve brady!" he said. "steve brady, the seeker after the lost beaver horde!" the man extended a hand, clothed in a deerskin gauntlet. "and it's you, tom bent, the little giant," he said. "i surely did not dream that when you and i met again it would be in such a place as this. providence moves in a mysterious way its wonders to perform, and it's a good thing for us it does, or i'd have frozen or starved to death in this valley. that quotation may not be strictly correct, but i mean well." the little giant seized his hand and shook it violently. it was evident that the stranger was one whom he admired and liked. "ef we'd knowed it wuz you callin', steve brady," he said, "we'd hev come sooner. but hev you found that huge beaver colony you say is somewhar in the northwestern mountings, the biggest colony the world hez ever knowed?" "i have not, tom bent. 'search and ye shall find' says the book, and i have searched years and years, but i have never found. if i had found, you would not see me here in this valley, a frozen man with three frozen horses, and i ask you, tom bent, if you have ever yet discovered a particle of the gold for which you've been looking all the years since you were a boy." "not a speck, steve, not a speck of it. if i had i wouldn't be here. i'd be in old st. looey, the grandest city in the world, stoppin' in the finest room at the planters' house, an' tilted back in a rockin' chair pickin' my teeth with a gold tooth pick, after hevin' et a dinner that cost a hull five dollars. but you come into our house, steve, an' warm up an' eat hot food, while young william, here, takes your hosses to the stable, an' quite a good hoss boy is young william, too." "house! fire! food! stable! what do you mean?" "jest what i say. these are my friends, thomas boyd and william clarke, young william. boys, this is stephen brady, who has been a fur hunter all his life but who hasn't been findin' much o' late. come on, steve." will took the three horses and led them to the stable, into which he pushed them without much trouble, and where they received a fair welcome. he also threw them a quantity of the hay, and then he ran back to the house, where boyd and bent were rapidly fanning the coals into a blaze and were warming food. brady's outer garments were steaming before the fire, and he was sitting on a stone outcrop, a look of solemn satisfaction on his face. "it is truly a habitation in the wilderness," he said, "and friends the best and bravest in the world. it is more, far more, than i, a lone fur hunter, had a right to expect. truly it is more than any humble mortal such as i had a right to hope for. but as the sun stood still over gibeon, and as the moon stood still over the vale of ajalon at the command of joshua, so the wilderness and the storm opened at the command of the lord, and disclosed to me those who would save me." there was nothing of the unctuously pious about his tone and manner, instead it was sternly enthusiastic, full of courage and devotion. he made to will a mental picture of one of cromwell's ironsides, or of the early new england puritans, and his biblical language and allusions heightened the impression. the lad felt instinctively that he was a strong man, great in the strength of body, mind and spirit. "take another slice o' the elk steak, steve," said the hospitable little giant, who was broiling them over coals. "you've et only six, an' a man o' your build an' hunger ought to eat at least twelve. we've got plenty of it, you won't exhaust the supply, never fear. an' take another cup o' coffee; it will warm your insides right down to your toes. i'm mighty glad to see you, an' young william's mighty glad to see you." "you couldn't have been as glad to see me as i was to see you," said brady with a solemn smile. "truly it seems that one may be saved when apparently his last hour has come, if he will only hope and persist. it may be that you will yet find your gold, thomas bent, that you, james boyd and william clarke, will find whatever you seek, though i know not what it is, nor ask to know, and that i, too, will find some day the great beaver colony of which i have dreamed, a colony ten times as large as any other ever seen even in these mountains." boyd and bent exchanged glances, but said nothing. it was evident that they had the same thought and will's quick and active mind leaped up too. in their great quest they needed at least another man, a man honest, brave and resourceful, and such a man in the emergency was beyond price. but for the present they said nothing. "thar's one thing i'd like fur you to explain to me, steve," said the little giant, who was enjoying the hospitality he gave, "why wuz you callin' so much through the storm? wuz it jest a faint hope, one chance in a million that trappers might be here in the valley?" "no, thomas, it was not a hope. a sign was vouchsafed to me. when i knew the storm was coming i started for this valley, which i visited once, years ago, and, although the snow caught me before i could reach it, i managed, owing to my former knowledge, to get down the slope without losing any of my horses. then in the valley i saw saplings cut freshly by the axe, cut so recently in truth that i knew the wielders of the steel must still be here, and in all likelihood were white men. strong in that faith i called aloud and you answered, but i did not dream that one whom i knew long ago, and one, moreover, whom i knew to be honest and true, was here. it is a lesson to us that hope should never be wholly lost." all were silent for a little space, feeling deeply the truth of the man's words and manner, and then, when brady finished his last elk steak and his last cup of coffee, boyd said: "i think, mr. brady, that you've had a terrible time and that you need sleep. you can roll in dry blankets in the corner there, and we'll arrange your packs for you. will reports that your animals have made friends with ours, as you and we have surely made friends, and there's nothing left for you now but to take a big sleep." "that i'll surely do," said brady, smiling a solemn smile, "but first promise me one thing." "what is that?" "don't call me mr. brady. it doesn't sound right coming from men of my own age. to you i'm steve, just as i am to our friend thomas." "all right, steve, but into the blankets with you. even a fur hunter can catch pneumonia, if he's just bent on doing it." brady rolled himself in the blankets and soon slept. the hunter, the little giant and will drew to the other side of the cavern, and before a word was spoken every one of the three was conscious of what was in the minds of the others. will was the first to speak. "he's the man," he said. "we shorely need him," said the little giant. "i don't think we could do better," said boyd. "it's luck, big luck, that we found him or he found us," continued the little giant. "when these solemn, prayin' men are real, they're real all over. he's as brave as a lion, he'll hang on like a grizzly bear, an' he's as honest as they ever make 'em. he's a fightin' man from start to finish. from what you say thar must be more'n a million in that mine, an' in huntin' fur it an' keepin' it after we find it, steve brady is wuth at least a quarter o' a million to us." "all of that," said the hunter. "but the mine really belongs to will, here, and it's for him to bring in a new partner." "it belongs to us all now," said the lad, "though i'll admit i was the original owner. i think mr. brady will just round out our band. i'm for offering him a full partnership." "then you do the talkin'," said the little giant. "it's right that it should come from you." when brady awoke many hours later three very serious faces confronted him, and his acute mind saw at once that he was about to receive a communication of weight. "it looks like a committee," he said with solemn importance. "who is the spokesman?" "i am," replied will, "and what we have to say to you is really of importance, of vast importance. mr. bent has been looking many years for gold, but has never yet found a grain of it. now he has given up his independent search, and is joining with mr. boyd and me in a far bigger hunt. you've been looking eight or ten years, you say, for the gigantic beaver colony, but have never found it. now we want you to give up that hunt for the time, and join us, because we need you much." "your words have an earnest sound, young man, and i know that you and your comrades are honest, but i do not take your full meaning." "it is this," said will, and he produced from his secret pocket the precious map. "my father, who was a captain in the army, found a great mine of gold, but before he could work it, or even make any preparations to do so, he was called for the civil war, in which he fell. but he left this map that tells me how to reach it somewhere in the vast northwestern mountains. to locate it and get out the treasure i need fighting men, the best fighting men the world can furnish, wilderness fighters, patient, enduring and full of knowledge. i have two such in mr. boyd and mr. bent, but we need just one more, and we have agreed that you should be the fourth, if you will favor us by entering into the partnership. it is full of danger, as you know. we have already had a fight with the sioux, and another with a band of outlaws, led by martin felton." a spark leaped up in the stern eye of stephen brady. "i am a fur hunter," he said, "though there is little prospect of success for me now, owing to the indian wars, but i have spent all my manhood years among dangers. perhaps i should feel lonely if they were absent, and you may dismiss that idea." "i thought so. will you enter into full partnership with us in this great enterprise? mr. bent has appraised your full value as a fighting man in this crisis at a quarter of a million dollars, and we know that the mine contains at least a million. i beg you not to refuse. we need your strong arm and great heart. you will be conferring the favor upon us." "and the vast beaver colony that i'm going to find some day?" "it can wait. it will be there after we get out the gold." "and you are in full agreement with this, james boyd?" "i am." "and you are in full agreement with this, too, thomas bent?" "i am." "then i accept. a quarter of a million dollars is a great sum. i scarcely thought there was so much money in the world, but one may do much with it. i am already forming certain plans in my mind. will you let me take another and thorough look at your map, william?" he studied it long and attentively, and then as he handed it back to the owner, he said: "it will be a long journey, as you have said, full of dangers, but i think i am not boasting when i say we be four who know how to meet hardship and peril. i make the prediction that after unparalleled dangers we will find the mine. yet a quarter of a million is too vast a sum for my services. i could not accept such an amount. make it about ten thousand dollars." will laughed. "you must bear in mind, mr. brady," he said, "that we haven't all this gold yet, and it will be a long time before we do get it. we're all to be comrades and full partners, and you must be on exactly the same terms as the others. we've probably saved your life, and we demand, therefore, that you accept. standing squarely on our rights, we'll take no refusal." the stern eyes of brady gleamed. "since you give me no choice, i accept," he said. chapter viii the mountain ram it snowed for two days and two nights without ceasing, and then turned so cold that the snow froze over, a covering like glass forming upon it. will broke a way to the stable, where he talked to the animals and fed them with the hay which had been cut with forethought. with the help of the others he also opened a path down to a little stream flowing into the lake, where the horses and mules were able to obtain water, spending the rest of the time in the cavern. the men usually had a small fire and they passed the time while they were snowed in in jerking more meat, repairing their clothes and doing a hundred other things that would be of service later on. brady stored his traps in a remote corner of the cavern, hiding them so artfully that it was not likely anyone save the four would ever find them. "i shall have no further use for them for a long time," he said, "but after we reach our gold i mean to return here and get them." will, who noticed his grammatical and good english, rather unusual on the border, asked him how he came to be a fur hunter. "drift," he replied. "you would not think it, but it was my original intention to become a schoolmaster. an excursion into the west made me fall in love with the forest, the mountains, solitude and independence. i've always taken enough furs for a good living, and i'm absolutely my own master. moreover, i'm an explorer and it gives me a keen pleasure to find a new river or a new mountain. and this northwest is filled with wonders. after we find the gold and my beaver colony, i'm going to write a book of a thousand pages about the wonders i've seen." "i never saw anybody that wrote a book," said the little giant with the respect of the unlettered for the lettered, "an' i confess i ain't much of a hand at readin' 'em, but when i'm rich ez i expect to be a year or two from now, an' i build my fine house in st. looey, i mean to have a room full of 'em, in fine leather an' morocco bindin's." "will you read them?" asked will. "me read 'em! o' course not!" replied the little giant. "i'll hire a man to read 'em, an' he kin keep busy on them books while i'm away on my long huntin' trips." "but that won't be you reading 'em." "what diff'unce does that make? all a book asks is to be read by somebody, en' ef it's read by my reader 'stead o' me it's jest the same." the days confirmed them in their choice of brady as the fourth partner in the great hunt. despite his rather stern and solemn manner he was at heart a man of most cheerful and optimistic temperament. he had, too, a vast fund of experience and he knew much of the wilderness that was unknown to others. "what do you think of our plan of going straight ahead as soon as we can travel, and passing over the left shoulder of the white dome?" asked boyd. "it's wisest," replied brady thoughtfully. "i've heard something of this felton, with whom you had such a sanguinary encounter, and i'm inclined to think from all you tell me that he has had a hint about the mine. he has affiliated with the indians and he can command a large band of his own, white men, mostly murderous refugees from the border, and the worst type of half breeds. it's better for us to keep as long as we can in the depths of the mountains despite all the difficulties of travel there." on the fifth day it turned much warmer and rained heavily, and so violent were the changes in the high mountains that there was a tremendous manifestation of thunder and lightning. they watched the display of electricity with awe from the door of the cavern, and will saw the great sword blades of light strike more than once on the rocks of the topmost peaks. "i think," said brady devoutly, "that we have been watched over. where else in the mountains could we have found such a refuge for our animals and ourselves?" "nowhere," said the little giant, cheerfully, "an' i want to say that i'm enjoyin' myself right here. we four hev got more o' time than anythin' else, an' i ain't goin' to stir from our nice, comf'table home 'til the travelin's good." the others were in full agreement with him, and, in truth, delay was absolutely necessary as a march now would have been accompanied by new and great dangers, snow slides, avalanches, and the best of the paths slippery with mud and water. when the rain ceased, although a warm sun that followed it hastened the melting of the snow, will released the animals from the stable and with pleasure saw them run about among the trees, where the snow had melted and sprigs of hardy grass were again showing green against the earth. after they had drunk at the lake and galloped up and down awhile, they began to nibble the grass, while will walked among them and stroked their manes or noses, and was as pleased as they were. brady's three horses were already as firm friends of his as the earlier animals. "did you ever notice that boy's ways with hosses an' mules?" said the little giant to brady. "he's shorely a wonder. i think he's got some kind o' talk that we don't understand but which they do. my critters and boyd's would quit us at any time fur him, an' so will yours." "i perceive it is true, my friend, and so far as my horses are concerned i don't grudge him his power. now that the snow has gone and the greenness is returning this valley truly looks like the land of canaan. and it is well for us to be outside again. people who live the lives that we do flourish best in the open air." the warm days lasted and all the snow melted, save where it lay perpetually on the crest of the white dome. often they heard it thundering in masses down the slopes. the whole earth was soaked with water, and swift streams ran in every gulch and ravine and canyon. will, although he was impatient to be up and away, recognized now how thoroughly necessary it was to wait. the mountains in such a condition were impassable, and the valley was safe, too, because for the time nobody could come there either. big game wandered down again and brady shot another large grizzly bear, the skin of which they saved and tanned, thinking it might prove in time as useful as the first. another deer was added to their larder, and they also shot a number of wild fowl. but as the hills began to dry their minds returned with increasing strength to the great mine, hidden among far-away peaks. all were eager to be off, and it was only the patience coming from experience that delayed the start. the valley dried out rapidly. the snow, deep as it had been, did not seem to have done any harm to the grass, which reappeared fresher and stronger than ever, forming a perfect harvest for the horses and mules. then the time for departure came and they began to pack, having added considerably to their stores of skins and cured meats. brady also had been exceedingly well equipped for a long journey, and the temporary abandonment of his traps gave them a chance to add further to their food supplies. all four of them, in addition to their food, carried extra weapons, including revolvers, rifles, and a fine double-barreled shotgun for every one. the two caverns, the one for the men and the other for the horses, they left almost as they had fitted them up. "we may come here ag'in," said the little giant. "it's true that felton's men an' the sioux also may come, but i don't think it's ez likely, 'cause the sioux are mostly plains warriors, an' them that ain't are goin' down thar anyhow to fight, while the outlaws likely are ridin' to the west huntin' fur us." "anyway," said stephen brady, in his deep, bass voice, "we'll trust to providence. it's amazing how events happen in your favor when you really trust." although eager to be on their way, they felt regret at leaving the valley. it had given them a snug home and shelter during the storm, and the melting of the snow had acted like a gigantic irrigation scheme, making it greener and fresher than before. as they climbed the western slope it looked more than ever a gem in its mountain setting. will saw far beneath him the blue of lake and the green of grass, and he waved his hand in a good-bye, but not a good-bye forever. "i expect to sleep there again some day," he said. "it's a fine home," said brady, "but we'll find other lakes and other valleys. as i have told you before, i have trapped for years through these regions, and they contain many such places." they pressed forward three more days and three more nights toward the left shoulder of the white dome, which now rose before them clear and dazzlingly bright against the shining blue of the sky. the air was steadily growing colder, owing to their increasing elevation, but they had no more storms of rain, sleet or snow. they were not above the timber line, and the vegetation, although dwarfed, was abundant. there was also plenty of game, and in order to save their supplies they shot a deer or two. on the third day will through his glasses saw a smoke, much lower down on their left, and he and the little giant, descending a considerable distance to discover what it meant, were able to discern a deep valley, perhaps ten miles long and two miles broad, filled with fine pastures and noble forest, and with a large indian village in the centre. smoke was rising from at least a hundred tall tepees, and several hundred horses were grazing on the meadows. "tell me what you can about them," said the lad, handing the glasses to the little giant. "i think they're teton sioux," said bent, "an' ez well ez i kin make out they're livin' a life o' plenty. i kin see game hangin' up everywhar to be cured. sometimes, young william, i envy the indians. when the weather's right, an' the village is in a good place an' thar's plenty to eat you never see any happier fellers. the day's work an' huntin' over, they skylark 'roun' like boys havin' fun with all sorts o' little things. you wouldn't think they wuz the same men who could enjoy roastin' an enemy alive. then, they ain't troubled a bit 'bout the future, either. termorrer kin take care o' itself. i s'pose that's what downs 'em, an' gives all the land some day to the white man. though i hev to fight the indian, i've a lot o' sympathy with him, too." "i feel the same way about it," said will. "maybe we won't have any more trouble with them." the little giant shook his head. "we may dodge 'em in the mountains, though that ain't shore," he said, "but when we go down into the plains, ez we've got to do sooner or later, the fur will fly. i'm mighty glad we picked up steve brady, 'cause fur all his solemn ways he's a pow'ful good fightin' man. now, i think we'd better git back up the slope, 'cause warriors from that village may be huntin' 'long here an', however much we may sympathize with the indians we're boun' to lose a hull lot o' that sympathy when they come at us, burnin' fur our scalps." "correct," laughed will, and as fast as they could climb they rejoined the others, telling what they had seen. brady showed some apprehension over their report. "i've noticed that mountain sheep and goats are numerous through here, and while indians live mostly on the buffalo, yet they have many daring hunters in the mountains, looking for goats and sheep, and maybe in the ravines for the smaller bears, the meat of which they love." "and you think we may be seen by some such hunters?" said will. "perhaps so, and in order to avoid such bad luck i suggest that we seek still greater height." they agreed upon it, though the little giant grumbled at the hard luck that compelled them to scale the tops of high mountains, and they began at once a perilous ascent, which would not have been possible for the horses had they not been trained by long experience. they also entered a domain of bad weather, being troubled much by rain, heavy winds and occasional snows, and at night it was so cold that they invariably built a fire in some ravine or deep gully. will calculated that they were at least ten thousand feet above the sea level, and that the white dome, which was now straight ahead, must be between three and four thousand feet higher. they reckoned that they could circle the peak on the left at their present height, and they made good progress, as there seemed to be fewer ravines and canyons close to the dome. nevertheless, as they approached they came to a dip much deeper than usual, but it was worth the descent into it, as they found there in the sheltered spaces plenty of grass for the horses, and they were quite willing to rest also, as every nerve and muscle was racked by the mountain climbing. still holding that time was their most abundant possession, the hunter suggested that they spend a full day and night in the dip, and all the others welcomed the idea. will, being younger than the others, had more physical elasticity, and a few hours restored him perfectly. then he decided to take his rifle and go up the dip looking for a mountain sheep, and the others being quite willing, he was soon making his way through the short bushes toward the north. he prided himself on having become a good hunter and trailer, and even here in the heart of the high mountains he neglected no precaution. the dip extended about two miles into the north and then it began to rise rapidly, ending at last in huge, craggy rocks, towering a thousand feet overhead, and will considered himself in great luck when he saw a splendid ram standing upon one of these stony pinnacles. the sheep, sharply outlined against the rock and the clear sky, looked at least double his real size, and will, anxious to procure fresh game, and feeling some of the hunter's ambition, resolved to stalk him. the animal reminded him of a lookout, and perhaps he was, as he stood on his dizzy perch, gazing over the vast range of valley, and the white dome that now seemed so near. the lad reached the first rocky slope and began slowly to creep in a diagonal line that took him upward and also toward the sheep. it was difficult work to keep one's footing and carry one's rifle also, but his pride was up and he clung to his task, until his muscles began to ache and the perspiration came out on his face. he was in fear lest the sheep would go away, but the great ram stood there, immovable, his head haughtily erect, a monarch of his tribe, and will became thoroughly convinced that he was a watchman. his repeating rifle carried a long distance, but he did not want to make an uncertain shot, and he continued his laborious task of climbing which yielded such slow results. the sheep took no notice of him, still gazing over valley and ranges and at the white dome. if he saw him, the lad was evidently in his eyes a speck in a vast world and not worth notice. will felt a sort of chagrin that he was not considered more dangerous, and, patting his rifle, he resolved to make the ram realize that a real hunter was after him. he crawled painfully and cautiously around a big rock and something whirring by his ear rang sharply on the stone. he saw to his amazement a long feathered arrow dropping away from the target on which it had struck in vain, and then roll down the side of the mountain. he knew, too, that the arrow had passed within a few inches of his ear, aimed with deadly purpose, and for a moment or two his blood was cold within his veins. instantly he turned aside and flattened himself against a stony upthrust. as he did so he heard the ring on the rock again and a second feathered arrow tumbled into the void. his first emotion was thankfulness. he lay in a shallow hollow now and it was not easy for any arrow to reach him there. he was unharmed as yet, and he had the great repeating rifle which should be a competent answer to arrows. some loose stones were lying in the hollow, and he cautiously built them into a low parapet, which increased his protection. then, peeping over the stones, he tried to discover the location of his enemy or enemies, if they should be plural, but he saw only the valley below with its touch of sheltered green, the vast rocky sides about it, and over all the towering summit of the white dome. there was nothing, save the flight of the feathered arrows, to indicate that a human being was near. far out on the jutting crag the mountain sheep still stood, a magnificent ram, showing no consciousness of danger or, if conscious of it, defying it. will suddenly lost all desire to take his life, due, perhaps, to his own resentment at the effort of somebody to take his own. he believed that the arrows had come from above, but whether from a point directly overhead or to the right or to the left he had no way of telling. it was a hidden foe that he had to combat, and this ignorance was the worst feature of his position. he did not know which way to turn, he did not know which road led to escape, but must lie in his narrow groove until the enemy attacked. he had learned from his comrades, experienced in the wilderness and in indian warfare, that perhaps the greatest of all qualities in such surroundings was patience, and if it had not been for such knowledge he might have risked a third arrow long ago, but, as it was, he kept perfectly still, flattening himself against the cliff, sheltered by the edge of the natural bowl and the little terrace of stones he had built. he might have fired his rifle to attract the attention of his comrades, but he judged that they were at the camp and would not hear his shot. he would fight it out himself, especially as he believed that he was menaced by but a single indian, a warrior who perhaps had been stalking the mountain sheep also, when he had beheld the creeping lad. great as was the strength of the youth's will and patience, he began to twist his body a little in the stony bowl and seek here and there for a sight of his besieger. he could make out stony outcrops and projections above him, every one of which might shelter a warrior, and he was about to give up the quest when a third arrow whistled, struck upon the ledge that he had built and, instead of falling into the chasm, rebounded into the bowl wherein he lay. the barb had been broken by the rock against which it struck so hard, though the shaft, long, polished and feathered, showed that it had been made by an artist. but he did not know enough about arrows to tell whether it was that of a sioux or of a warrior belonging to some other tribe. looking at it a little while, he threw it into the chasm, and settled back to more waiting. the day was now well advanced and a brilliant sun in the slope of the heavens began to pour fiery shafts upon the side of the cliff. will had usually found it cold at such a height, but now the beams struck directly upon him and his face was soon covered with perspiration. he was assailed also by a fierce, burning thirst, and a great anger lay hold of him. it was a terrible joke that he should be held there in the hole of the cliff by an invisible warrior who used only arrows against him, perhaps because he feared a shot from a rifle would bring the white lad's comrades. if the indian would not use a rifle because of the report, then the case was the reverse with will. he had thought that the men were too far away to hear, but perhaps the warrior was right, and raising the repeating rifle he sent a bullet into the void. the sharp report came back in many echoes, but he heard no reply from the valley. a second shot, and still no answer. it was evident that the three were too distant to hear, and, for the present, he thought it wise to waste no more bullets. the power of the sun increased, seeming to concentrate its rays in the little hollow in which will lay. his face was scorched and his burning thirst was almost intolerable. yet he reflected that the heat must be at the zenith. soon the sun would decline, and then would come night, under the cover of which he might escape. he heard a heavy, rolling sound and a great rock crashed into the valley below. will shuddered and crowded himself back for every inch of shelter he could obtain. a second rock rolled down, but did not come so near, then a third bounded directly over his head, followed quickly by another in almost the same place. it was a hideous bombardment, but he realized that so long as he kept close in his little den he was safe. it also told him that his opponent was directly above him, and when the volleys of rocks ceased he might get a shot. the missiles poured down for several minutes and then ceased abruptly. evidently the warrior had realized the futility of his avalanche and must now be seeking some other mode of attack. it caused will chagrin that he had not seen him once during all the long attack, but he noticed with relief that the sun would soon set beyond the great white dome. the snow on the dome itself was tinged now with fire, but it looked cool even at the distance, and assuaged a little his heat and thirst. he knew that bye and bye the long shadows would fall, and then the grateful cold of the night would come. [illustration: the body of a warrior shot downward, striking on the ledges.] he moved a little, flexed his muscles, grown stiff by his cramped position, and as he did so he caught a glimpse of a figure on the south face of the wall. but it was so fleeting he was not sure. if he had only brought his glasses with him he might have decided, but he was without them, and he concluded finally that it was merely an optical illusion. he and the indian had the mountain walls to themselves, and the warrior could not have moved around to that point. in spite of his decision his eyes at length wandered again to that side of the wall, and a second time he thought he caught a glimpse of a human figure creeping among the rocks, but much nearer now. then he realized that it was no illusion. he had, in very truth, seen a man, and as he still looked a rifle was thrust over a ledge, a puff of fire leaping from its muzzle. from a point above him came a cry that he knew to be a death yell, and the body of a warrior shot downward, striking on the ledges until it bounded clear of them and crashed into the valley below. then the figure of the man who had fired the shot stepped upon a rocky shelf, held aloft the weapon with which he had dealt sudden and terrible death, and cried in a tremendous voice: "come forth, young william! your besieger will besiege no more! ef i do say it myself, i've never made a better shot." it was the little giant. never had the sight of him been more welcome, and raising himself stiffly to his feet and moving his own rifle about his head, will shouted in reply: "it was not only your greatest shot, but the greatest shot ever made by anybody." "stay whar you are," cried bent. "you're too stiff an' sore to risk climbin' jest yet. i'll be with you soon." but it was almost dark before the little giant crept around the face of the cliff and reached the hollow in which the lad lay. then he told him that he had seen some of the rocks falling and as he was carrying will's glasses he was able to pick out the warrior at the top of the cliff. the successful shot followed and the siege was over. night had now come and it was an extremely delicate task to find their way back to the valley, but they made the trip at last without mishap. once again on level ground will was forced to sit down and rest until a sudden faintness passed. the little giant regarded him with sympathy. "you had a pretty tough time, young william, thar's no denyin' that," he said. "it's hard to be cooped up in a hole in a mountainside, with an enemy shootin' at you an' sendin' avalanches down on you, an' you never seein' him a-tall." "i never saw him once until he plunged from the cliff with your bullet through him." "wa'al, it's all over now, an' we'll go back to the camp. the boys had been worryin' 'bout you some, and i concluded i'd come out an' look fur you, an' ef it hadn't been fur my concludin' so i guess you'd been settin' thar in that holler a month from now, an' the indian would hev been settin' in a holler above you. at least i hev saved you from a long waitin' spell." "you have," said will with heartfelt emphasis, "and again i thank you." "come on, then. i kin see the fire shinin' through the trees an' jim an' steve cookin' our supper." will hurried along, but his knees grew weak again and objects swam before his eyes. he had not yet recovered his strength fully after passing through the tremendous test of mental and physical endurance, when he lay so long in that little hollow in the side of the mountain. the little giant was about to thrust out a hand and help sustain him, but he did not do so, remembering that it would hurt the lad's pride. the gold hunter, uneducated, spending his life in the wilds, had nevertheless a delicacy of feeling worthy of the finest flower of civilization. will was near to the fire now and the pleasant aroma of broiling venison came to him. boyd and brady were moving about the flames, engaged in pleasant homely tasks, and all his strength returned. once more his head was steady and his muscles strong. "i made a long stay," he called cheerfully to them, "too long, i fear, nor do i bring a mountain sheep back with me." the sharp eyes of the hunter and the trapper saw at once in his pallid face and exaggerated manner that something unusual had happened, but they pretended to take no notice. "did you see any sheep?" asked boyd. "yes," replied the lad, "i had a splendid view of a grand ram, standing high on a jutting stone over the great valley." "what became of him?" "i don't know. i became so busy with something else that i forgot all about him, and he must have gone away in the twilight. an indian in a niche above me began firing arrows at me, and i had to stick close in a little hollow in the stone so he couldn't reach me. if the little giant hadn't come along, and made another of his wonderful shots i suppose i'd be staying there for a week to come." "tom can shoot a little," said boyd, divining the whole story from the lad's few sentences, "and he also has a way of shooting at the right time. now, you sit down here, will, and eat these steaks i'm broiling, and i'll give you a cup of coffee, too, just one cup though, because we're sparing our coffee as much as we can now." will ate and drank with a great appetite, and then he told more fully of his adventure with the foe whom he had never seen until the little giant's bullet sent him spinning into the void. "he'd have got you," said brady thoughtfully, "if tom hadn't come along." "you know we wuz worried 'bout him stayin' so long," said the little giant, "an' so i went out to look fur him. it wuz lucky that i took his glasses along, or i might never hev seen him or the sioux. i don't want to brag, but that wuz one o' my happy thoughts." "you had nothing to do with taking the glasses, tom bent," said brady seriously. "why, it wuz my own idee!" "not at all. the idea was in your head but it was not put there by your own mind. it was put there by the infinite, and it was put there because will's time had not yet come. you were merely an instrument, tom bent." "mebbe i wuz. i'm not takin' any credit to myself fur deep thinkin' an' i 'low you know more 'bout these things than i do, steve brady, since you've had your mind on 'em so much an' so long. an' ef i wuz used ez an instrument to save will, i'm proud that it wuz so." will, who was lying on the turf propped up by his elbow before the fire, looked up at the skies, which were now a clear silver, in which countless stars appeared to hang, lower and larger than he had ever seen them before. it was a beautiful sky, and whether it was merely fate or chance that had sent the little giant to his aid he felt with the poet that god was in his heaven, and, for the time at least, all was right with his world. "you got a good sight of the indian, did you, tom?" asked boyd. "i saw him plain through the glasses. he wuz a sioux. i couldn't make no mistake. like ez not he wuz a hunter from the village we saw on the slope below, an' whar one hunter is another may not be fur away." "thinking as you do," said boyd, "and thinking as i do the same way you do, i think we'd better put out our fire and shift to another part of the valley." "that's a lot of 'thinks,'" said brady, "but it seems to me that you're both right, and i've no doubt such thoughts are put into our minds to save our lives. perhaps it would be best for us to start up the slopes at once, but if our time is coming tonight it will come and no flight of ours will alter it." nevertheless they took the precaution to stamp out the last coal, and then moved silently with the animals to another part of the dip. while they were tethering their horses and mules there in a little glade all the animals began to tremble violently and it required will's utmost efforts to soothe them. the acute ears of brady detected a low growling on their right, not far from the base of the cliff. "come, tom," he said to the little giant. "you and i will see what it is, and be sure you're ready with that rifle of yours. you ought to shoot beautifully in this clear moonlight." they disappeared among the bushes, but returned in a few minutes, although the growling had become louder and was continuous. both men had lost a little of their ruddiness. "what was it?" asked will. "it wuz your friend, the sioux warrior who held you in the cliff so long," replied the little giant, shuddering. "half a dozen big mountain wolves are quarrelin' 'bout the right place to bury him in. but, anyway, he's bein' buried, an' mighty fast too." will shuddered also, and over and over again. in fact, his nervous system had been so shaken that it would not recover its full force for a day, and the others, trained to see all things, noticed it. "you soothe them animals ag'in, young william," said the little giant, "an' we'll spread the blankets fur our beds here in the bushes." bent again showed supreme judgment, as in quieting the fears of the horses and mules for the second time will found that renewed strength flowed back into his own nervous system, and when he returned to the fireless camp his hand and voice were once more quite steady. "there is your bed, william," said brady. "you lie on one blanket, put the other over you, and also one of the bearskins. it's likely to be a dry and cold night, but anyway, whether it rains or snows, it will rain or snow on the just and the unjust, and blankets and bearskin should keep you dry. that growling in the bushes, too, has ceased, and our friend, the sioux, who sought your life, has found a dreadful grave." will shuddered once more, but when he crept between the blankets his nerves were soothed rapidly and he soon fell asleep. the three men kept watch and watch through the night, and they saw no indian foe. once boyd heard a rustling in the bushes, and he made out the figure of a huge mountain wolf that stood staring at them for a moment. the horses and mules began to stir uneasily, and, picking up a stone, the hunter threw it with such good aim that the wolf, struck smartly on the body, ran away. the animals relapsed into quiet, and nothing more stirred in the bushes, until the leaves began to move under the light breeze that came at dawn. chapter ix the buffalo march drawn by an impulse that he tried to check but could not, will went in the morning to the point in the bushes whence the growling had come the night before, finding there nothing but the bones of the sioux, from which every trace of flesh had been removed. he shuddered once more. he, instead of the warrior, might have been the victim. his eyes, trained now to look upon the earth as a book and to read what might be printed there, saw clearly the tracks of the wolves among the grass and leaves. after finishing what they had come to do they had gone away some distance and had gathered together in a close group, as if they had meditated an attack, possibly upon the horses and mules. will knew how great and fierce the mountain wolves of the north were, and he was glad to note that, after their council, they had gone on and perhaps had left the valley. at least, he was able to follow their tracks as far as the lower rocks, where they disappeared. when he returned to the little camp he told what he had seen. "we're in no danger of a surprise from the big wolves," said brady. "they'd have killed and eaten some of the horses and mules if we hadn't been here, but wolves are smart, real smart. like as not they saw thomas shoot the sioux, and they knew that the long stick he carried, from which fire spouted, slaying the warrior, was like the long sticks all of us carry, and that to attack us here was death for them. oh, i know i'm guessing a lot, but i've observed 'em a long time and i'm convinced wolves can reason that far." "all animals are smarter than we think they are," said the little giant. "i've lived among 'em a heap, an' know a lot o' their ways. only they've a diff'rent set o' intellectooals from ours. what we're smart in they ain't, an' what they're smart in we ain't. now, ef i had joined to what i am myself the strength o' a grizzly bear, the cunnin' o' a wolf an' the fleetness o' an antelope i reckon i'd be 'bout the best man that ever trod 'roun' on this planet." "i've one thing to suggest before we start," said will, "and i think it's important." "what is it?" asked boyd. "that we make copies of the map. we may become separated for long periods--everything indicates that we will--i might fall into the hands of felton, who seems to have a hint about the mine, and, if i saw such a thing about to occur, i would destroy the map, and then you would have the copies. each of you faced by a similar misfortune could make away with his copy, and if the worst came to the worst i could re-draw it from memory." "good idee! good idee!" exclaimed the little giant with enthusiasm. "i've been tellin' jim an' steve that though they mightn't think it, you had the beginnin's o' intelleck in that head o' yours." "thank you," said will, and they all laughed. "it's a good thought," said boyd, "and we'd better do it at once." will carried in his pack some pens and a small bottle of indelible ink, and with these they drew with the greatest care three more maps on fine deerskin, small but very clear, and then every man stored one in a secure place about his person. "now, remember," said boyd, "if any one of us is in danger of capture he must get rid of his map." then, their breakfast over, they began the ascent of the slope, leading toward the white dome, finding it easier than they had thought. as always, difficulties decreased when they faced them boldly, and even the animals, refreshed by their stay in the valley, showed renewed vigor, climbing like goats. the little giant whistled merrily, mostly battle songs of the late war which was still so fresh in the minds of all men. "i notice that you whistle songs of both sides," said brady. "musically, at least, you have no feeling about our great civil war." "nor any other way, either," rejoined the little giant. "i may hev hed my feelin's once, though i ain't sayin' now what they wuz, but fur me the war is all over, done fit clean out. they say six or seven hundred thousand men wuz lost in it, an' now that it's over it's got to stop right thar. i'm lookin' to the future, i am, to the quarter of a million in gold that's comin' to me, an' the gorgeous ways in which i'm goin' to spend it. young william, see that big mountain ram standin' out on the side o' the peak over thar. i believe he's the same feller that you tried to stalk yesterday, an' that he's laughin' at you. he's a good mile away, but i kin see the twinkle in his eye, an' ez shore ez i stan' here he lifted his left foot to his nose an' twisted it 'bout in a gesture which among us boys allers meant fight. do you stan' his dare, young william, or are you goin' to climb over thar whar he is an' hev it out with him?" "i'll let him alone," laughed william, looking at the splendid ram, outlined so sharply in the clear mountain light. "i meant to do him harm, but i'm glad i didn't. maybe that indian was engaged in the same task, when he saw me and changed his hunting." then he shuddered once more at the growling he had heard and what he had seen in the bushes the next morning, but his feeling of horror did not last long, because they were now climbing well upon the shoulder of the white dome and the spectacle, magnificent and inspiring, claimed all their attention. the last bushes and dwarfed vegetation disappeared. before them rose terrace on terrace, slope on slope of rock, golden or red in the sun, and beyond them the great snow fields and the glaciers. over it all towered the white dome, round and pure, the finest mountain will had ever seen. he never again saw anything that made a more deep and solemn impression upon him. far above all the strife and trouble of the world swam the white peak. meanwhile the little giant continued to whistle merrily. he was not awed, and he was not solemn. prone to see the best in everything, he enjoyed the magnificent panorama outspread before them, and also drew from it arguments most favorable for their quest. "we're absolutely safe from the warriors," he said. "we're above the timber line, and they'd never come up here huntin'. an indian doesn't do anythin' more than he has to. he ain't goin' to wear hisself out climbin' to the top o' a mounting ten miles high in order to hev a look at the scenery. we won't be troubled by no warriors 'til we go down the shoulder o' your white dome on the other side." he resumed his clear, musical whistling, pouring out in a most wonderful manner the strains of "dixie," changing impartially to "yankee doodle," shifting back to "the bonnie blue flag," and then, with the same lack of prejudice, careering into "marching through georgia." the horses and mules that they were now leading felt the uplifting influence, raised their heads and marched forward more sturdily. "what makes you so happy?" asked will. "the kindness o' natur' what gave me that kind o' a disposition," replied the little giant, "an' added to it the feelin' that all the time i'm drawin' closer to my gold. what did you say my share would be, young william, a matter o' a million or a half million?" "a quarter of a million." "seems to me it wuz a half million, but somehow it grows ez we go 'long. when you git rich, even in the mind, you keep on gittin' richer." then he began to whistle a gallant battle stave with extraordinary richness and variety of tone, and when he had finished will asked: "what was that song, tom? it's a new one to me." "it's new to most people," replied the little giant, "but it's old jest the same. it wuz writ 'way back in the last war with england, an' i'll quote you the first two verses, words an' grammar both correct: "britannia's gallant streamers float proudly o'er the tide, and fairly wave columbia's stripes in battle side by side, and ne'er did bolder seamen meet where ocean surges pour o'er the tide now they ride while the bell'wing thunders roar while the cannon's fire is flashing fast and the bell'wing thunders roar. "when yankee meets the briton whose blood congenial flows, by heaven created to be friends by fortune reckoned foes: hard then must be the battle fray e'er well the fight is o'er, now they ride, side by side, while the bell'wing thunders roar, while the cannon's fire is flashing fast and the bell'wing thunders roar. "that's a lot more verses, young william, an' it's all 'bout them great naval duels o' the war o' , an' you'll notice that whoever writ 'em had no ill feelin' in his natur', an' give heaps o' credit to the british. it does seem that we an' the british ought to be friends, bein' so close kin, actin' so much alike, an' havin' institutions just the same, 'cept that whar they hev a king we hev a president. yet here we are quarrelin' with 'em a lot, though not more than they quarrel with us." "the trouble lies in the fact that we speak the same language," said will. "every word of abuse spoken by one is understood by the other. now, if the french or the spanish or the russians denounce us we never hear anything about it, don't know even that it's been done." "that's good ez fur ez it goes," said the little giant. "i've seen a lot o' english that don't speak any english, a-tall, fellers that come out o' the minin' regions in england an' some from london, too, that talked a lingo soundin' ez much like english ez sioux does, but it doesn't alter the fact that them an' us ought to be friends. an' i reckon we will be now, 'cause i hear they're claimin' that our washington wuz an englishman, the same immortal george that they would hev hung in the revolution along with his little hatchet, too, ef they could hev caught him." will laughed with relish. "in a way washington was an englishman," he said. "that is, he was of pure english stock, transplanted to another land. the athenians were greeks, the most famous of the greeks, but they were not the oldest of the greeks by any means. they were a colony from asia minor, just as we were a colony from england." "i don't know much 'bout the greeks, young william, my lad, but ef the english kin lay claim to washington ez one o' their sons, 'cause he wuz of pure english blood, then me an' most o' the americans kin lay jest ez good a claim to shakespeare 'cause, we bein' o' pure british blood, he wuz one o' our ancestors." "your claim is perfectly good, giant. by and by, both washington and shakespeare will belong to the whole english-speaking world." "its proudest ornyments, so to speak. now, that bein' settled, i'd like to go back to a p'int that troubles me." "if i can help call on me." "it's 'bout that song i wuz jest singin'. at the last line o' each verse it says: 'an' the bell'wing thunders roar.' i've thought it over a heap o' times, but i've never rightly made out what a bell'wing thunder is. thar ain't nothin' 'bout thunder that reminds me o' bells. now what is it, young william?" will began to laugh. "what do you find so funny?" asked the little giant suspiciously. "nothing at all! nothing at all!" replied will hastily. "'bell'wing' is bellowing. the writer meant the bellowing thunders, and it's cut off to bell'wing for the sake of rhyme and metre, a poetical liberty, so to speak. you see, poets have liberties denied to other people." "wa'al, i reckon they need a few. all that i ever seed did. but i'm mighty glad the p'int hez been settled. it's been botherin' me fur years. thank you, young william." "i think now," said boyd, "that we'd better be looking for a camp." "among all these canyons and valleys," said will, "it shouldn't be hard to find a suitable place." canyons were too abundant for easy traveling, and finding a fairly level though narrow place in one of the deepest, they pitched camp there, building a fire with wood which they had added to their packs for this purpose, and feeding to the animals grass which they had cut on the lower slopes. with the warm food and the fire it was not so bad, although the wind began to whistle fiercely far above their heads. the animals hovered near the fire for warmth, looking to the human beings who guided them for protection. "i think we shall pass the highest point of our journey tomorrow," said brady, "and then for the descent along the shoulder of the white dome. truly the stars have fought for us and i cannot believe that, after having escaped so many perils, we will succumb to others to come." "o' course we won't," said the little giant cheerfully, "an' all the dangers we've passed through will make our gold all the more to us. things ain't much to you 'less you earn 'em. when i git my million, which is to be my share o' that mine, i'll feel like i earned it." "a quarter of a million, tom," laughed will. "you're getting avaricious as we go on. you raised it to a half million and now you make it a million." "it does look ez ef my fancy grew more heated the nearer we come to the gold. i do hev big expectations fur a feller that never found a speck of it. how that wind does howl! do you think, young william, that a glacier is comin' right squar' down on us?" "no, tom. glaciers, like tortoises, move slowly. we'll have time to get out of the way of any glacier. it's easy to outrun the fastest one on the globe." "i've heard tell that the earth was mostly covered with 'em once. is that so?" "they say there was an ice age fifty thousand or so years ago, when everything that lived had to huddle along the equator. i don't vouch for it. i'm merely telling what the scholars tell." "i'll take your word for it, young william, an' all the same i'm glad i didn't live then. think o' bein' froze to death all your life. ez it is i'm ez cold ez i keer to be, layin' here right now in this canyon." "if we were not hunting for gold," said brady, "i'd try to climb to the top of this mountain. i take it to be close on to fourteen thousand feet in height and i often feel the ambition of the explorer. perhaps that's why i've been willing to search so long and in vain for the great beaver horde. i find so many interesting things by the way, lakes, rivers, mountains, valleys, game, hot springs, noble forests and many other things that help to make up a splendid world. it's worth while for a man like me, without any ties, just to wander up and down the face of the earth." "do you know anything about the country beyond the white dome?" asked will. "very little, except that it slopes down rapidly to a much lower range of mountains, mostly forested, then to hills, forested also, and after that we have the great plains again." "now you've talked enough, young william," said the little giant. "it's time for you to sleep, but ez this is goin' to be a mighty cold night up here, fifteen or twenty miles 'bove the clouds, i reckon we'd better git blankets, an' wrap up the hosses an' mules too." having enough to go around they tied one blanket around the body of every animal, and will was the most proficient in the task. "it's 'cause they help him an' they don't help us," said the little giant. "seein' that you've got such a touch with animals we're goin' to use you the next time we meet a grizzly bear. 'stead o' wastin' bullets on him an' runnin' the chance o' some o' us gittin' hurt, we'll jest send you forrard to talk to him an' say, 'ephraim! old eph, kindly move out o' the path. you're obstructin' some good men an' scarin' some good hosses an' mules.' then he'll go right away." despite their jesting they pitched the camp for that critical night with the greatest care, making sure that they had the most sheltered place in the canyon, and ranging the horses and mules almost by the side of them. more clothing was brought from the packs and every man was wrapped up like a mummy, the fur coats they had made for themselves proving the best protection. although the manifold wrappings kept will's blood warm in his veins, the night itself and their situation created upon his mind the effect of intense cold. the wind rose all the time, as if it were determined to blow away the side of the mountain, and it howled and shrieked over their heads in all the keys of terror. none of them could sleep for a long time. "it's real skeery," said the little giant. "mebbe nobody hez ever been up here so high before, an' this old giant of a mountain don't like our settin' here on his neck. i've seen a lot o' the big peaks in the rockies, w'arin' thar white hats o' snow, an' they allers 'pear to me to be alive, lookin' down so solemn an' sometimes so threatenin'. hark to that, will you! i know it wuz jest the screamin' o' the wind, but it sounded to me like the howlin' o' a thousand demons. are you shore, young william, that thar ain't imps an' critters o' that kind on the tops o' high mountings, waitin' fur innocent fellers like us?" will slept at last, but the mind that can remain troubled and uneasy through sleep awoke him several times in the course of the night, and always he heard the fierce, threatening blasts shrieking and howling over the mountain. his eyes yet heavy with sleep, it seemed to him in spite of himself that there must be something in the little giant's suggestion that imps and demons on the great peaks resented their presence. he knew that it could not be true, but he felt as if it were, and once he rose all swathed in many garments and stroked the noses of the horses and mules, which were moving uneasily and showing other signs of alarm. dawn came, clear, with the wind not so high, but icily cold. they fed the last of the little store of hay to the animals, ate cold food themselves, and then crept out of the canyon, leading their horses and mules with the most extreme care, a care that nevertheless would have been in vain had not all the beasts been trained to mountain climbing. it was a most perilous day, but the next night found them so far down on the western slope of the white dome that they had reached the timber line again. the trees were dwarfed and scraggly, but they were trees just the same, affording shelter from wind and cold, and fuel for a fire, which the travelers built, providing themselves once more with warm food and coffee as sizzling hot as they could stand it. the animals found a little solace for their hunger by chewing on the tenderest parts of the bushes. after the meal they built the fire higher, deciding that they would watch by turns and keep it going through the night. as the wind was not so threatening and the glow of the coals was cheerful they slept well, in their turns, and all felt fresh and vigorous when they renewed the journey the next morning. they descended rapidly now among the lower ranges of the mountains and came into heavy forests and grassy openings where the animals ate their fill. game also was abundant, and they treated themselves to fresh deer meat, the product this time of brady's rifle. they were all enveloped by a great sense of luxury and rest, and still having the feeling that time was their most abundant commodity, they lingered among the hills and in the timber, where there were clear, cold lakelets and brooks and creeks that later lost themselves on the plains. it gave will a great mental stimulus after so many dangers and such tremendous hardships, the survival of which without a wound seemed incredible. he looked back at the vast peak of the white dome, solemn and majestic, piercing the sky, and it seemed to him at times that it had been a living thing and that it had watched over them in their gigantic flight. despite the increased danger there from indian raids they lingered longer than they had intended among the pleasant hills. the animals, which had been much worn in the passage of the great mountains, and two that became lame in the descent recovered entirely. the little giant and the hunter scouted in wide circles, and, seeing no sign of indian bands, most of their apprehension on that score disappeared, leaving to them a certain sense of luxury as they delayed among the trees, and in the pleasant hills. will caught some fine trout in one of the larger brooks, and brady cooked them with extraordinary culinary skill. the lad had never tasted anything finer. "come here, young william," said the little giant, "an' stand up by the side o' me. no, you haven't grown a foot in height, since i met you, so many days since, but you've grown jest the same. your chest is bigger, too, an' you eat twice ez much ez you did. i hope that what's inside your head hez done growed too." "thomas bent," said brady, "you should not talk in such a manner about what's inside his head to the one who is the real leader of this expedition, as the mine is his. he might be insulted, cast you off, and let you go eat corn husks with the prodigal son." "no, he won't," replied the little giant, confidently. "will, hevin' done tuk me in ez pardner, would never want to put me out ag'in, nor thar ain't no corn husks nor no prodigal son. besides, he likes fur me to compliment him on his growth. you're older than i am, steve brady, but i want to tell you that the man or woman wuz never born who didn't like a little well-placed flattery now an' then, though what i've been sayin' to young william ain't flattery." "in that matter i'm agreeing with you, thomas bent. you're dipping from a well of truth, when you're saying all men are accessible to flattery--and all women too, though perhaps more so." "mebbe women are more so an' mebbe men are more so. i reckon it depends on whether a man or woman is tellin' it." "which is as near as we'll ever come to a decision," said brady, "but of one thing i'm sure." "what's that, steve?" "we've dallied long enough with the flesh pots of egypt. if william will take his glasses he can see the land of canaan outspread far below us. it is there that we must go." "an' that thar land o' canaan," said the little giant, "is rid over by sioux warriors, ready to shoot us with rifles or stick us through with lances. i'd hate to die hangin' on a sioux lance. sech a death makes me shiver. ef i've got to die a violent death, give me a good, honest bullet ev'ry time. you hevn't seen the sioux at work with lances, hev you, young william?" "no, tom." "well, i hev. they fight with 'em, o' course, an' they hev a whole code o' signals with 'em, too. in battle everybody must obey the head chief, who gives the orders to the sub-chiefs, who then direct their men accordin'. often thar ain't a chance to tell by words an' then they use the lances fur signallin'. in a sioux army, an', fur the matter o' that, in any indian army, the hoss indians is divided into two columns, the right an' the left. when the battle comes on, the head war chief rides to the top o' a ridge or hill, gen'ally 'bout half a mile 'way from the scrap. the columns on the right an' the left are led by the under chiefs. "then the big chief begins to tell 'em things with his lance. he ain't goin' to fight with that lance, an' fur other purposes he hez fastened on it near the blade a big piece o' dressed skin a yard squar' an' painted black. now he stretches the lance straight out in front o' him an' waves it, which means fur both columns to attack all at once an' right away, lickety-split. ef he stretches the lance out to his right and waves it forward it means fur the right column alone to jump inter the middle o' things, the same movement on the left applyin' to the left column, an' thar's a lot more which i could tell you 'bout lance signallin' which i hope you won't hev to see." "we will not disguise from ourselves," said brady, in his usual grave tone, "that we must confront peril when we descend into the plains, yet descend we must, because these mountains and hills won't go on with us. it will be a long time before we strike another high range. on the plains we've got to think of indians, and then we've got to look out for water, too." "our march often makes me think of xenophon, whom i studied in the high school," said will. "what's xenophon?" asked the little giant suspiciously. "i ain't heard o' no sich country." "xenophon is not a country. xenophon was a man, and a good deal of a man. he led a lot of greeks, along with a lot of persians, to help a persian overthrow his brother and seize the throne of the persian empire. in the battle the greeks were victorious wherever they were fighting, but the persian whom they were supporting was killed, and having no more business there they concluded to go away." "lost their paymaster, eh?" "well, i suppose you could put it that way. anyway they resolved to go back to their homes in greece, across mountains, rivers and deserts. xenophon, who led them, wrote the account of it." "then i'll bet that xenophon looms up pretty big in the tellin' o' it." "no, he was a modest man, tom. but what i remember best about the story, they were always marching so many parasangs, so many days' journey to a well of water. it gets to be a sort of fascination with you. you are always wondering how many parasangs they'll march before they come to water. and sometimes you've a kind of horrible fear that there won't be any water to come to, and it keeps you keyed up." "same ez ef you wuz in that sort o' condition yourself." "something like it." "well, mebbe we will be, an' jest you remember, young william, since them greeks allers come to water, else xenophon who led them never would hev lived fur the tellin' o' it, that we'll allers come to water, too, even of we do hev to wait a week or two fur it. cur'us how long you kin live after your tongue hez baked, your throat hez turned to an oven, an' your lips hev curled up with the heat." "i imagine, tom," said boyd, "we're not going to suffer like that." "i jest wanted to let young william know the worst fust an' he kin fortify himself accordin'." "i'm prepared to suffer what the rest of you suffer," said the lad. "the right spirit," said brady, heartily. "we'll be davids and jonathans, cleaving the one unto the other, and now, as we're about to emerge from the last bit of forest i suggest that we fill all our water bottles from this brook among the trees. thomas has talked so feelingly about thirst that i want to provide against it. we will not strike here the deserts that are to be found in the far south, but we may well have long periods without water free from alkali." they had many leather water bottles, their packs having been prepared with all the skill of experience and sound judgment, and they filled all of them at the brook, which was pure and cold, flowing down from the mountains. at one of the deeper pools which had a fine bottom of gravel they bathed thoroughly, and afterward let the horses and mules wade into the water and take plunges they seemed to enjoy greatly. "an' now," said the little giant, taking off his hat and looking back, "good-bye trees, good-bye hills, good-bye, high mountains, good-bye all clear, cold streams like this, an' good-bye, you grand white dome. say them words after me, young william, 'cause when we git out on the great plains we're likely to miss these friends o' ourn." he spoke with evident feeling, and will, taking off his hat, said the words after him, though with more regard to grammar. "and now, after leading them most of the way," said boyd, "we'll ride on the backs of our horses." the four mounted, and, while they regretted the woods and the running water they were about to leave behind them, they were glad to ride once more, and they felt the freedom and exhilaration that would come with the swift, easy motion of their horses. the pack animals, knowing the hands that fed and protected them, would follow with certainty close behind them, and will, in particular, could lead them as if he had been training them for years. the vast sweep of the plains into which they now emerged showed great natural beauty, that is, to those who loved freedom and space, and the winds came untarnished a thousand miles. before them stretched the country, not flat, but in swell on swell, tinted a delicate green, and with wild flowers growing in the tufts of grass. "i've roamed over 'em for years," said brady, "and after a while they take a mighty grip on you. it may be all the stronger for me, because i'm somewhat solitary by nature." "you're shorely not troubled by neighbors out here," said the little giant. "i've passed three or four months at a time in the mountings without a soul to speak to but myself. the great west suits a man, who don't want to talk, clean down to the groun'." will, the reins lying upon the pommel of his saddle, was surveying the horizon with the powerful glasses which he was so proud to possess, and far in the southeast he noticed a dim blur which did not seem to be a natural part of the plain. it grew as he watched it, assuming the shape of a cloud that moved westward along one side of a triangle, while the four were riding along the other side. if they did not veer from their course they would meet, in time, and the cloud, seemingly of dust, was, therefore, a matter of living interest. "what are you looking at so long?" asked boyd. "a cloud of dust that grows and grows and grows." "where?" "in the southeast." "i can't see it and i have pretty keen eyes." "the naked eye won't reach so far, but the dust cloud is there just the same. it's moving in a course almost parallel with us and it grows every second i look at it. it may be the dust kicked up by a band of sioux horsemen. take a look, jim, and tell us what you make of it." boyd looked through the glasses, at first with apprehension that soon changed to satisfaction. "the cloud of dust is growing fast, just as you told us, will," he said, "and, while it did look for a moment or two like indian horsemen, it isn't. it's a buffalo herd, and the tail of it runs off into the southeast, clean down under the horizon. buffaloes move in two kinds of herds, the giant herds, and the little ones. this is a giant, and no mistake. in a few minutes you'll be able to see 'em, plain, with your own eyes." "i kin see thar dust cloud now," exclaimed the little giant. "looks ez ef they wuz cuttin' 'cross our right o' way." they rode forward at ease and gradually a mighty cloud of dust, many miles in length and of great width, emerged from the plain, moving steadily toward the northwest. will, with his glasses, now saw the myriads of black forms that trampled up the dusty typhoons, and was even able to discern the fierce wolves hanging on the flanks in the hope of pulling down a calf or a decrepit old bull. "they must number millions," he said. "like ez not they do," said the little giant. "you kin tell tales 'bout the big herds o' bufflers on the plains that nobody will b'lieve, but they're true jest the same. once at the platte i saw a herd crossin' fur five days, an' it stretched up an' down the river ez fur ez the eye could see." "how do they all live? where do they find enough grass to eat?" asked will. "i dunno, but bunch grass is pow'ful fillin' an' fattenin', an' when a country runs fifteen or eighteen hundred miles each way, thar's a lot o' grass in it. the sioux, the cheyennes, the pawnees an' all the plains indians live on the buffler." "and in my opinion," said brady, "the buffalo must have been increasing until the white man came with firearms. their increase was greater than the toll taken by indians with bows and arrows and by the wolves. no wonder the indians fight so hard to retain the plains and the buffalo. with an unlimited meat supply on the hoof, and with limited needs, they undoubtedly lived a happy, nomadic life. if your health is good and your wants are few it's not hard to be happy. the biblical people were nomadic for a long time, and some of the world's greatest men and women moved with herds and lived in tents. my mind often reverts to those old days and the simplicity of life." "i've allers thought thar wuz somethin' o' the old bible 'bout you, steve," said the little giant. "you ain't no prophet. nobody is nowadays, but you talk like them fightin' an' prayin' old fellers, an' you wander 'roun' the west jest ez they wandered 'bout the land o' canaan, but shore that you will git to your journey's end at last. an' i know, too, steve, that when you come to a fight you're jest ez fierce an' terrible ez old joshua hisself ever wuz, an' ef i ain't mistook it wuz him that wuz called the sword o' the lord. ain't i right, young william?" "i'm not sure," replied the lad, "but if you'll read the book of joshua you'll find his sword was a great and terrible weapon indeed." "what do you think we'd better do, boyd," asked brady. "if we keep going we'll find the herd crossing our path, and it will be no use fur us to try to break through it." "we can move on until we come close up," replied the hunter, "and then wait for the herd to go by. maybe we might strike a clump of trees in which we could camp. pick out the country with your glasses, will, and see if you can find any trees on our side of the moving buffalo line." will, after much searching, was able to identify the tops of some trees standing in a dip where, sheltered from the winds that blew unceasingly, they had been able to obtain good size. "we'll ride fur 'em," said boyd. "there may be a pool of water in the dip, too." "but won't the buffaloes stop and drink it up?" asked will. "no, they're bearing straight ahead, looking neither to the right nor to the left, going i've no idea where." "two million hearts that beat as one," said will. they reached the dip in due time, finding it a shallow depression of a half acre, well grown with substantial cottonwoods and containing, as they had surmised, a pool of good water, perhaps twenty feet each way, and two feet deep. here the animals drank freely, enabling them to save the store they carried for more stringent times, and then all rested among the trees, while myriads of buffaloes thundered by. hour after hour they marched past, not a single one stopping for the water and deep grass they must have smelled so near. at times, they were half hidden by the vast cloud of dust in which they moved, and which was of their own making, and at other times the wind of the plains blew it away, revealing the lowered heads and huge black forms, pressing on with some sort of instinct to their unknown destination. will watched them a long time and the tremendous sight at last laid a spell upon him. apparently they had no leaders. what power moved them out of a vast and unknown region into another region, alike vast and unknown? leaderless though they were, they advanced like the columns of an army and with a single purpose. he climbed into a fork of one of the cottonwoods and used his glasses once more. first he looked into the northwest, where they were going, and he could not now see the head of the shaggy army or of the dust column that hung above it, as both had passed long since under the horizon. and looking into the southeast he could not see, either, the end of the coming army or of its dust cloud. it emerged continually from under the rim of the horizon, and there was such an effect of steadiness and permanency that it seemed to the lad as if that vast column, black and wide, would be coming on forever. then he caught a glimpse of something glinting through the dust and from the other side of the herd a full two miles away. only good eyes and the most powerful glasses of the time could have detected it at such a moment, but he saw it twice, and then thrice and once more. then, waiting for the dust to lift a little, he discerned a brilliant ray of sunlight striking on the head of a lance. looking further and searchingly he was able to note the figures of indians on their ponies, armed with lances, and cutting out from the herd as many of its choicest members as they wanted, which were always the young and fat cows. he descended the tree hastily and related what he had seen to the others, who, however, were not stirred greatly by the narration. "the buffaloes are a river, two miles wide, flowing between us and the savage hunters," said boyd, "and not having trees to climb and glasses to look through they won't see us." "besides, they're taking meat for their village, wherever it may be," said brady, "and they're not dreaming that white men whose heads can furnish nice scalps are near." will shivered a little, and clapped one hand to his hair, which was uncommonly thick and fine. "your scalp is thar, right an' tight, young william," said the little giant, "but ef the sioux got up close to you, you'd hev to hold it on with both han's 'stead o' one. hev any o' you fellers noticed that all of us hev pow'ful thick, strong hair that would make splendid scalps fit to hang in the tepees o' the head chiefs theirselves? it's remarkyble how fine they are, speshully on the heads o' old men like jim an' steve." "thomas bent, you irreverent and chunky imp," said brady, "i, the oldest of this party, am but thirty-eight. i have not yet reached the full prime of my physical powers, and if i should be put to it i could administer to you the thrashing you need." "and i'm only thirty-six," said boyd, "and i've licked tom often and often, though sometimes, when he's feeling right peart, i'd have to use both hands to do it. but i don't have any feeling against him when i do the job. it's just to improve his language and manners. these boys of thirty-two or three are so pesky full of life and friskiness that you have to treat 'em as you would young lions. before we met you in the mountains, steve, i generally gave him his thrashing in the morning before breakfast." he reached a large palm for the little giant, who leaped lightly away and laughed. "lend me your glasses, young william," he said. "i'd like to climb one o' the cotton woods myself an' take a look at the indian hunters. o' course you're a bright boy, young william, an' jim an' steve are so old they're boun' to hev some intelligence forced upon 'em, but ez fur me brightness an' intelligence come nateral, an' though mighty modest 'bout it, i reckon i'm a kind o' napoleon o' the west. they say our figgers are tremenjeously alike, though, o' course, i'm thicker an' much stronger than he wuz, an' perhaps a lot brighter in some ways." "go on, you supreme egotist," said brady in his usual solemn tones, "climb the tree, where i cannot hear your voice, and stay there a long time." the little giant was more serious than he pretended to be. he was fully aware that they had lost at least seventy-five per cent of their security when they descended from the high mountains. on the plains it was difficult to fortify against attack, and he did not like the appearance of the indians, even as hunters on the far side of the buffalo herd. hence, when he had made himself comfortable in one of the highest forks of a cottonwood, his examination through the glasses was long and critical. he saw, just as will had seen, the herd coming forever from under the southeastern rim of the horizon and disappearing forever under the northwestern rim. then he caught glimpses of the hunters still pursuing and cutting out the fat young cows, but instead of being parallel with the little party in the dip they had now passed far beyond it. then he descended the tree and spoke what he thought. "jim boyd, hunter, steve brady, trapper, an' young william," he said, "i'm of the opinion that we'd better stay here at least one day an' night. the river o' buffaloes will be flowin' by at least that long, but ef we wuz to go on an' they wuz to pass us, we might meet the warriors with no river in between, an' we ain't looking fur that." "good advice," said brady. "when the conquerors went down into the land of canaan they used every chance that nature or circumstance offered them, and why shouldn't we, even though three thousand years or so have elapsed? we will build no fire, but repose calmly in our little clump of trees." "good judgment," said boyd. "pleases me," said will. all day long and all that night the herd, as wide and dense as ever, was passing. they might have slain enough to feed a great army, but they did not fire a shot. the sight, whether by daylight or moonlight, did not lose its romance and majesty for the lad. it was a black sea, flowing and living, one of the greatest spectacles of the mighty western wilderness, and it was given to him to look upon it. he grew so used to it by and by that he had no thought of its turning from its course or of its throwing out stragglers like little, diverging currents. it would go on in a vast flood, straight into the unknown, wherever it intended to go. the horses and mules themselves, though at first uneasy, soon grew used to the passage of the living river, and, since no harm came from it, evidently concluded that none would come. will walked among them more than once and stroked their manes and then their noses, which they rubbed confidingly against him. the moon shining that night was very bright, and, the heavens being starred in such brilliant splendor, they saw almost as well as by day. will, to whom the romantic and majestic appealed with supreme force, began to find a certain enjoyment, or rather a mental uplift, in his extraordinary position. before him was the great, black and living river, flowing steadily from the unknown into the unknown, to north and to south the rolling plains stretched away to infinity, and behind him, piercing the skies, rose the misty white dome, a vast peak; now friendly, that seemed to watch over these faithful comrades of his and himself. none of them slept until late, and they divided the remainder of the night into watches of two hours apiece, will's running from two until four in the morning. it was brady whom he succeeded and it required some effort of the will for him to leap at once from his warm blankets and take the place of sentinel in the night, which was now cold, as usual on the plains. but, while averse to bloodshed, he had drilled himself into soldiership in action, always prompt, accurate and thorough, and in less than a minute he was walking up and down, rifle on shoulder, eyes open to everything that was to be seen and ears ready for everything that was to be heard. stephen brady, the philosopher, looked at him with approval. "a prompt and obedient lad is sure to be a good and useful man," he said. "you're as big as a man now, but you haven't the years and the experience. i like you, william, and you are entitled to your share of the land of canaan, which, in these later days, may be interpreted variously as the treasures of the spirit and the soul. and now, good-night." he wrapped himself in his blankets and, sound of body and conscience, he slept at once. will, walking back and forth, alert, eager, found that nothing had changed while he was in slumber. the buffalo herd flowed on, its speed and its flood the same, while the white dome towered far into the sky, almost above them, serene, majestic and protecting. it seemed to will that all the omens were good, that, great though the dangers and hardships might be, they would triumph surely in the end. and the feeling of victory and confidence was still strong upon him when his watch of two hours was finished and he, too, in his turn, slept again. chapter x the war club's fall when will awoke in the cold dawn he found the herd still passing, though it showed signs of diminution in both breadth and density. after breakfast he climbed the cottonwood again, and took another long and searching look through the glasses. "i can't yet see the end of the advancing herd under the rim of the horizon," he announced when he descended, "but, as you can tell from the ground, it's thinning out." "which means thar'll no longer be a river cutting us off from the hoss indians on the south," said the little giant, "an' which means, too, that it's time fur us to light out from here an' foller the trail." curving considerably toward the north for fear of the indian hunters, who were likely to be where the buffaloes were, they rode at a good pace over the plain, the pack horses and mules following readily without leading. their curve finally took them so far toward the north that the swells of the plain hid the buffalo herd--only will's glasses disclosing traces of the dust cloud--and the thunder of its passage no longer reached their ears. near sundown they came to a low ridge covered with bushes, and deciding that it was an excellent place for a camp they rode into the thick of it until sure also from the presence of tree growth that they would find water not far away. will was the first to dismount and as he went over the crest and down the slope in search of a stream or pool, he uttered a cry of horror. he had come upon a sight, alas! too familiar at that time upon the plains. scattered about a little grassy opening were seven or eight human skeletons, picked so clean by the wolves that they were white and glistening. but the lad knew that wolves had not caused their deaths. bullet, arrow and lance had done the work. he shuddered again and again, but he was too much of the mountain ranger and plainsman now to turn aside because of horror. he concluded that the skeletons represented perhaps two families, surprised and slaughtered by the sioux. several of them were small, evidently those of children, and he arrived at the number two because he saw in the bushes near by two of the great wagons of the emigrant camp, overturned and sacked. just beyond was a small, clear stream which obviously had caused the victims to stop there. will walked back slowly and gravely to his comrades. "did you find water, young william?" asked the little giant jovially. "i did," replied the lad briefly. "then why does that gloom set upon your brow?" "because i found something else, too." "what else do we need? water fur ourselves an' the animals is all we want." "but i found something else, i tell you, tom bent, and it was not a sight pleasant to see." the little giant noticed the shudder in the lad's tones, and he asked more seriously: "signs of hostile bands comin', young william?" "no, not that, but signs where they have passed, skeletons of those whom they have slain, just beyond the bushes there, picked clean, white and glistening. come with me and see!" the others, who heard, went also, and the men looked reflectively at the scene. "i've seen its like often," said boyd. "the emigrants push on, straight into the indian country. neither hardships, nor troops, nor the indians themselves can stop 'em. wherever a party is cut off, two come to take its place. i guess this group was surprised, and killed without a chance to fight back." "how do you know that?" asked will. "'cause the wagons are turned over. that shows that the horses were still hitched to 'em, when the firin' from ambush began, and in their frightened struggles tipped 'em on one side. suppose we go through 'em." "what for, jim?" "this must have been done at least a couple of months ago. the weather-beaten canvas covers and the general condition of the wagons show that. war not being then an open matter the indians might have hurried away without making a thorough overhauling. then, too, it might have been done by wandering piegans or blackfeet or northern cheyennes, who, knowing they were on sioux territory, were anxious to get away with their spoil as quickly as they could." "good sound reasonin', jim," said the little giant, "an' we'll shorely take a good look through them wagons." the wagons, as usual with those crossing the plains, contained many little boxes and lockers and secret places, needful on such long journeys, and they searched minutely through every square inch of the interior space. the indians had not been so bad at the sack themselves, but they found several things of value, some medicines in a small locker, two saws, several gimlets and other tools, and under a false bottom in one of the wagons, which the sharp eye of the little giant detected, a great mat filled with coffee, containing at least one hundred pounds. they could have discovered nothing that would have pleased them more, since coffee was always precious to the frontiersman, and together they uttered a shout of triumph. then they divided it among their own sacks and continued the search looking for more false bottoms. they were rewarded in only a single instance and in that they found an excellent pocket compass, which they assigned to bent. their gleanings finished, they made camp and passed a peaceful night, resuming the journey early the next morning. they would have buried the bones of the slain, as they had spades and picks for mining work, but they felt they should not linger, as they were now in country infested by the sioux and it was not well to remain long in one place. hence, they rode away under an early sun, and soon the memory of the slaughter by the little stream faded from their minds. events were too great and pressing for them to dwell long upon anything detached from their own lives. on the second day afterward they curved back toward the south and struck the great buffalo trail. but the herd, which did have an end after all, had now passed, and they saw only stragglers. as the trail led into the northwest and their own trail must be more nearly west, they crossed it and did not stop until half the night had gone, as they knew the indians were most to be dreaded near the herd or in its path. when they camped now will could no longer see the white dome, which had followed them so long, watching over them like a great and majestic friend. he missed that lofty white signal in the sky, feeling as if a good omen had gone, and that the signs would not now be so favorable. but the depression was only momentary. he had cultivated too strong and courageous a will ever to allow himself to be depressed long. at noon they were far from the hills and out on the open plains, which spread swell on swell before them, seemingly to infinity, with only a lone tree here and there, and at rare intervals a sluggish stream an inch or two deep and dangerous with quicksands. the water of these little creeks was not good, touched at times with alkali, but they made the horses and mules drink it, saving the pure supply they carried for a period of greater need. will used his glasses almost continually, watching for a possible enemy or anything else that might appear upon the plain, and he saw occasional groups of the buffalo, a dozen or so, at which he expressed surprise. "and why are you surprised, young william?" asked brady. "don't you know enough of this mighty west not to be surprised at anything?" "i saw so many millions in that herd going into the northwest," replied the lad, "that i thought it must have included all the buffaloes in the world. yet here are more, scattered in little groups." "and there are other herds millions strong far down in the south, and still others just as strong, montana way. it may be in this great hunt of ours that we can live on the buffalo, just as the indians do." they slept that night on the open plain, warm in their blankets and lulled by the eternal winds, and the next morning they were off again at the first upshoot of dawn. it now grew very warm, the sun's rays coming down vertically, while the plain itself seemed to act as a burnished shield, reflecting them and doubling the heat. careful of their animals, they gave them a long rest at noon, and then resumed the march at a slow pace. before sundown will saw through his glasses a long line of trees, apparently cottonwoods, running almost due north and south. "means a creek," said the little giant, "a creek mebbe a leetle bigger than them make-believe creeks we've crossed. i like the plains. they kinder git hold o' you with thar sweep an' thar freedom, but i ain't braggin' any 'bout thar water courses. i've seen some o' the maps in which the rivers cut big an' black an' bold an' long 'cross the plains, same ez ef they wuz ragin' an' t'arin' ohios an' missips, an' then i've seen the rivers tharselves, more sand than water. an' i love fine, clear streams, runnin' fast, but you hev to go into the mountains to git 'em, whar, ez you've seen, will, thar are lots o' sparklin' leetle ones, clean full o' pure water, silver, or blue, or gold, or gray, 'cordin' to the way the sun shines. but i say ag'in when braggin' o' the great plains i keep dark 'bout the rivers an' lakes." the cottonwoods were six or seven miles away, and when they reached them they found all of the little giant's predictions to be true. the stream, a full foot in depth, flowed between banks higher than usual, and its waters, cold and sweet, were entirely devoid of alkali. following it some distance, they found sloping banks free from the danger of quicksand, and crossed to the other side, where they made a camp among the cottonwoods. will, weary from the long ride, went to sleep as soon as dusk came, but he was awakened somewhere near the middle of the night by the hand of boyd on his shoulder. "what is it?" he asked, sitting up and not yet wholly awake. "quiet!" whispered boyd. "reach for your rifle, and then don't stir. the sioux are out on the plain to the west, in front of us. tom, who was on watch, heard 'em, and then he saw 'em. there's a band of at least fifty on their ponies. we think they know we're here. likely they heard our animals moving about." the lad's heart contracted. it seemed a hideous irony of fate that, after having escaped so many dangers by their skill and courage, blind chance should bring such a great menace against them here upon the plains. he drew himself from his blankets, and propping himself upon his elbows pushed forward his repeating rifle. then he changed his mind, put down his rifle again, and brought to his eyes the precious glasses, with which he seldom parted. he was able to see through the cottonwoods and in the moonlight the sioux band, about a third of a mile away, gathered in a group on the crest of a swell, strong warriors, heavily painted, nearly all of them wearing splendid war bonnets. they were sitting on their ponies and two, whom will took to be chiefs, were talking together. "what do you make out, young william?" asked the little giant. "a conference, i suppose." "then they know beyond a doubt that we're here," said boyd. "they must have heard the stamp of a horse or a mule. it's bad luck, but we've had so much of the good that we've got to look for a little of the bad. what more do you see through those glasses of yours, will?" "ten men from the band have gone to the right, and ten have gone to the left. all are bent low on their ponies, and they are moving slowly. some carry lances and some rifles." "that settles it. they're sure we're here and they mean to take us. what about those who are left in the center?" "they've come a little nearer, but not much." "waiting for the two wings to close in before they attack. that's your crafty indian. they never waste their own lives if they can help it, nor does an indian consider it any disgrace to run when the running is of profit. i don't know but what they're right. can you still see the two wings, will?" "the one on the left is hid by a swell, but the other on the right is bearing in toward the creek." "then we'd better make our field of battle and fortify as fast as we can." the horses and mules were tethered in the lowest ground they could find among the cottonwoods near the edge of the creek, where the four hoped they would escape the bullets. then they built in all haste a circular breastwork of fallen wood and of their own packs. "thar's one satisfaction 'bout it," said the little giant grimly. "ef we're besieged here a long time we'll hev water only a few feet away. many a man on the plains could hev held his own ag'inst the painted imps ef he could hev reached water. what do you see now, young william?" "both horns of their crescent. they're on top of the swells, but have come almost to the cottonwoods. do you look for 'em to cross the creek?" "sooner or later they will, an' we'll have to guard from all directions, but i reckon the attack jest now will come straight in front an' 'long the stream on the flanks." "and the hardest push will be on the flanks?" "yes, that would be good strategy. they mean, while the warriors in front are keeping us busy, to press in from both sides. what do you see now, young william?" "the forces on the flanks have passed out of sight among the cottonwoods, and the one in front is still advancing slowly. the warriors there seem to be armed chiefly with bows and arrows." "meant mostly to draw our attention. the rifles are carried by the men on the flanks. b'ars out what we said 'bout thar plan. these warriors, like some others we met, hev got to learn a lot 'bout the new an' pow'ful repeatin' rifles. do you think, jim, them in front hev now rid within range?" "in a minute or two they'll be within your range, giant." "then do you think i'd better?" "yes. they've made their semi-circle for attack. tell 'em in mighty plain language they oughtn't to do such a thing without consulting us." "give 'em a hint, so to speak, jim?" "that's what i mean." the little giant levelled his rifle at the approaching horsemen. the moonlight was silvery and brilliant, giving him fine chance for aim, and not in vain had his friend, boyd, called him the greatest shot in the west. the rifle cracked, there was a little spit of fire in the moonlight, and the foremost indian fell from his pony. the band uttered a single shout of rage, but did not charge. instead, the warriors drew back hastily. "that settles it," said brady. "it's just a feint in front, but they didn't dream we could reach 'em at such long range. we've got to do our main watching now among the cottonwoods, up and down the stream. of course, they'll dismount there, and try to creep up on us. will, you keep an eye on those warriors out there and we'll take care of the cottonwoods, but everybody stay down as close as possible. we're only four and we can't afford the loss of a single man." will was lying almost flat, and he could put away the glasses, fastening them securely over his shoulder, as the warriors in front were plainly visible now to the naked eye. they were beyond the range of the deadly repeating rifles, but the moonlight was so intense that he saw them distinctly, even imagining that he could discern their features, and his fancy certainly did not diminish the horror and repulsion they inspired. they rode slowly back and forth, shaking long lances or waving heavy war clubs, and suddenly they burst into a series of yells that made the lad's blood run cold. at length he distinguished the word, "winihinca" shouted over and over again. boyd, lying beside him, was laughing low. "what does 'winihinca' mean, and why do you laugh?" asked will. "'winihinca' is the sioux word for women," replied the hunter, "and they're trying to taunt us because we're lying in hiding. it will take more than a taunt or two to draw us out of these cottonwoods. they can shout 'winihinca' all night if they wish." but the warriors riding back and forth in the moonlight on the crest of the low swell were good shouters. yellers, will would have called them. their throats and lungs seemed to be as tough as the inside of a bear's hide, and also they threw into their work a zest and flavor that showed they were enjoying it. presently their yelling changed its key note, and will discerned the word, "wamdadan." again the hunter lying by his side laughed low. "what does 'wamdadan' mean?" he asked. "just now we were 'winihinca' and now we are 'wamdadan.'" "we've gone down in the scale," replied boyd. "in fact, we've sunk pretty far. a little while ago we were women, but now we are worms. 'wamdadan' means worm. we're 'wamdadans' because we won't come out of our burrows and stand up straight and tall, where the sioux can shoot us to pieces at their leisure." "i intend to remain a 'wamdadan' as long as i can," said will. "if lying close to the earth, burrowing into it in fact, makes you a worm then a worm am i for the present." "no, you're not. you were for a while, but they've changed their cry now. listen closely! can't you make out a new word?" "now that you call my attention to it, i do. it sounds like 'canwanka.'" "'canwanka' it is. that's the new name they're calling us and it's not complimentary. 'canwanka' means coward. first we were women, then worms and now cowards, because we won't give up the aid of our fortifications and allow ourselves to be overpowered by the sioux numbers. do you hear anything among the cottonwoods on the creek, giant?" "nothing yet, jim. they keep up such an infernal yelling out thar in front that it will drown out any light sound." "doubtless that's what it's for." "i think so, too. you don't hev to see them imps among the cottonwoods to know what they're up to. they hev dismounted on both wings, an' they're creepin' forward from the north an' from the south close to the banks o' the creek, hopin' to ketch us nappin'." the little giant was facing the south and suddenly his figure became taut. "see something?" whispered boyd. "i think so, but i ain't quite sure yet. yes, it's the head o' a warrior, stickin' up 'bout a foot from the ground, an' he'll be the fust to go." will was startled by the sharp crack of a rifle almost at his elbow, and he heard the little giant's sigh of satisfaction. "straight an' true," muttered the terrible marksman. then the rifle of brady, who faced the south, spoke also and his aim was no less deadly. boyd, meanwhile, held his fire, as the advancing bands among the cottonwoods sank from view. but the band in front in the open uttered a tremendous shout and galloped about wildly. will, watching them cautiously, thought one of the riders in his curvetings had come within range, and, taking good aim, he fired. the rider fell to the ground, and his pony ran away over the plain. "good shot, will," said boyd approvingly. "and it speaks all the better for you because you were watching for your chance and were ready when it came." after such a hint the shouting band drew back and shouted less. then the four listened with all their ears for any sound that might pass among the cottonwoods, though they felt that the attack would not come again there for a long time, as the first result had been so deadly. will took advantage of the interlude, and, creeping past the barrier they had built, went among the horses and mules, soothing them with low voice and stroke of hand. they pressed against him, pushed their noses into his palm, and showed a confidence in him that did not fail to move the lad despite the terrible nature of their situation. "good lads!" he whispered when he left them and crawled back within the barricade. "how're they behavin'?" asked the little giant. "fine," responded will. "human beings couldn't do better. they're standing well under fire, when they're not able to fire back." "which gives more credit to them than to us, because we can and do fire back." "will," said boyd, "you resume your watch of that band in front while we devote all our attention to the cottonwoods. it's a good thing we've got this creek with the high banks back of us. now, we're in for a long wait. when warriors are besieging, they always try to wear out the patience of those they besiege and tempt 'em into some rash act." "those in front are riding beyond the swell and out of sight," said will. the little giant laughed with the most intense satisfaction. "they're skeered o' our rifles," he said. "we've got lightnin' that strikes at pretty long range, an' they ain't so shore that it ain't a lot longer than it is." will had learned the philosophy of making himself comfortable whenever he could, and lying with his hand on one arm he watched the cottonwoods, trusting meanwhile more to ear than to eye. since the indians in front, disappearing over the swell, had ceased to shout, the night became quiet. the wind was light and the cottonwoods did not catch enough of it to give back a song, while the creek was too sluggish to murmur as it flowed. his comrades also were moveless, although he knew that they were watching. he looked up at the heavens, and the moon and the stars were so bright that they seemed to be surcharged with silver. the whole world, in such misty glow, was supremely beautiful, and it was hard to realize, as he lay there in silence and peace, that they were surrounded by savage foes, seeking their lives, men who, whatever their primitive virtues, knew little of mercy. he understood and respected the wish of the sioux and the other tribes to preserve for themselves the great buffalo ranges and the mountains, but he was not able to feel very friendly toward them when they lay in the cottonwoods not far away, seeking his scalp and his life, or, if taken alive, to subject him to all the hideous tortures that primeval man has invented. the distant view of the indian as a wronged individual often came into violent contact with another view of him near at hand, seeking to inflict a death with hideous pain. the night did not darken as it wore on, still starred brilliantly and lighted by a full, silver moon, which seemed to will on these lone plains of the great west to have a size and splendor that he had never noticed in the east. he and the little giant now faced the north, while boyd and brady, of the biblical voice and speech, looked toward the south. all of them, when they gazed that way, could see the plain from which the force, intending to attract their attention by shouting and yelling, had retreated. but they knew the danger was still to be apprehended from the cottonwoods, and despite the long stillness they never ceased to watch with every faculty they could bring to bear. the dip in which the horses and mules stood was only a short distance from the little fortification and unless the sioux in attacking came very near their bullets were likely to pass over the heads of the animals. the four, resolved not to abandon the horses and mules under any circumstances, nevertheless felt rather easy on that score. about three o'clock in the morning some shots were fired from the cottonwoods in the south, but they flew wild and the four did not reply. "they came from a distance," said boyd. "they're probably intended to provoke our fire and tell just where we're lying." after a while more shots were fired, now from the north, but as they were obviously intended for the same purpose the four still remained quiet. a little later will heard a movement, a stamping of hoofs among the animals, indicating alarm, and once more he crawled out of the breastwork to soothe them. the horses and mules responded as always to his whispered words of encouragement and strokings of manes and noses, and he was about to return when his attention was attracted by a slight noise in the bushes on the farther side of the animals. every motive of frontier caution and thoroughness inclined him to see what it was. it might be and most probably was a coyote hiding there in fear, but that did not prevent him from stooping low and entering the bushes. the growth of scrub, watered by seepage from the stream, was rather dense, and he pushed his way in gently, lest a rustling of twigs and leaves reach the sioux, lurking among the cottonwoods. he did not hear the noise again, and he went a little farther. then he heard a sound by his side almost as light as that of a leaf that falls, and he whirled about, but it was too late. a war club descended upon his head and he fell unconscious to the ground. chapter xi the young slave will's first sign of returning consciousness was a frightful headache, and he did not open his eyes, but, instead, moved his hand toward the pain as one is tempted to bite down on a sore tooth. it was in the top of his head, and his fingers touched a bandage. without thinking he pulled at it, and the pain, so far from being confined to one spot, shot through his whole body. then he lay still, with his eyes yet shut, and the agony decreased until it was confined to a dull throbbing in the original spot. he tried to gather together his scattered and wandering faculties and coördinate them to such an extent that he could produce thought. it required a severe effort, and made his head ache worse than ever, but he persisted until he remembered that he had been creeping through bushes in search of a sound, or the cause of a sound. but memory stopped there and presently faded quite away. another effort and he lifted his mind back on the track. then he remembered the slight sound in the bushes near him, the shadow of a figure and a stunning blow. beyond that his memory despite all his whipping and driving, would not go, because there was nothing on which to build. he opened his eyes which were heavy-lidded and painful for the time, and saw the figures of indians that seemed to be standing far above him. then he knew that he was lying flat upon his back, and that his sick brain was exaggerating their height, because they truly appeared to him in the guise of giants. he tried to move his feet but found that they were bound tightly together, and the effort gave him much pain. then he was in truth a captive, the captive of those who cared little for his sufferings. it was true they had bound up his head, but indians often gave temporary relief to the wounds of their prisoners in order that they might have more strength to make the torture long. his vision cleared gradually, and he saw that he was lying on a small grassy knoll. a fire was burning a little distance to his left, and besides the warriors who stood up others were lying down, or sitting in turkish fashion, gnawing the meat off buffalo bones that they roasted at the fire. the whole scene was wild and barbaric to the last degree and will shuddered at the fate which he was sure awaited him. beyond the indians he saw trees, but they were not cottonwoods. instead he noted oak and pine and aspen and he knew he was not lying where he had fallen, or in any region very near it. straining his eyes he saw a dim line of foothills and forest. he must have been brought there on a pony and dreadful thoughts about his comrades assailed him. since the sioux had come away with him as a prisoner they might have fallen in a general massacre. in truth, that was the most likely theory, by far, and he shuddered violently again and again. those three had been true and loyal friends of his, the finest of comrades, hearts of steel, and yet as gentle and kindly as women. hardships and dangers in common had bound the four together, and the difference in years did not matter. it seemed that he had known them and been associated with them always. he could hear now the joyous whistling of the little giant, the terse, intelligent talk of boyd, and the firm biblical allusions of the beaver hunter. they could not be dead! it could not be so! and yet in his heart he believed that it _was_ so. he turned painfully on his side, groaned, shut his eyes, and opened them again to see a tall warrior standing over him, gazing down at him with a cynical look. he was instantly ashamed that he had groaned and said in apology: "it was pain of the spirit and not of the body that caused me to make lament." "it must be so," replied the warrior in english, "because you have come back to the world much quicker than we believed possible. the vital forces in you are strong." he spoke like an educated indian, but his face, his manner and his whole appearance were those of the typical wild man. "i see that i'm at least alive," said will with a faint touch of humor, "though i can scarcely describe my condition as cheerful. who are you?" "i am heraka, a sioux chief. heraka in your language means the elk, and i am proud of the name." will looked again at him, and much more closely now, because, despite his condition, he was impressed by the manner and appearance. heraka was a man of middle years, of uncommon height and of a broad, full countenance, the width between the eyes being great. it was a countenance at once dignified, serene and penetrating. he wore brilliantly embroidered moccasins, leggings and waist band, and a long green blanket, harmonizing with the foliage at that period of the year, hung from his shoulders. he carried a rifle and there were other weapons in his belt. will felt with increasing force that he was in the presence of a great sioux chief. the sioux, who were to the west what the iroquois were to the east, sometimes produced men of high intellectual rank, their development being hampered by time and place. the famous chief, gall, who planned custer's defeat, and who led the forces upon the field, had the head of a jupiter, and will felt now as he stared up at heraka that he had never beheld a more imposing figure. the gaze of the man that met his own was stern and denunciatory. the lad felt that he was about to be charged with a great crime, and that the charge would be true. "why have you come here?" asked the stern warrior. in spite of himself, in spite of his terrible situation, the youth's sense of humor sparkled up a moment. "i don't know why i came here," he replied, "nor do i know how, nor do i know where i am." the chief's gaze flickered a moment, but he replied with little modification of his sternness: "you were brought here on the back of a pony. you are miles from where you were taken, and you are the prisoner of these warriors of the dakota whom i lead." will knew well enough that the sioux called themselves in their own language the dakota, and that the chief would take a pride in so naming them to him. "the dakotas are a great nation," he said. heraka nodded, not as if it were a compliment, but as a mere statement of fact. will considered. would it be wise to ask about his friends? might he not in doing so give some hint that could be used against them? the fierce gaze of the chief seemed actually to penetrate his physical body and read his mind. "you are thinking of those who were with you," he said. "my thoughts had turned to them." "call them back. it is a waste." "why do you say that, heraka?" "because they are all dead. their scalps are drying at the belts of the warriors. you alone live as we had to strike you down in silence before we slew the others." will shuddered over and over again. he was sick at both heart and brain. could it be true? could those men be dead? the wise boyd, the cheerful little giant, and the grave and kindly brady? once more he looked heraka straight in the eye, but the gaze of the chief did not waver. "i have hope, though but a little hope," he said, "that it pleases the chief to test me. he would see whether i can bear such news." "if the belief helps you then heraka will not try again to make you see the truth. what is your name?" "clarke, william clarke." "why have you come to the land of the dakotas?" "not to take it. not to kill the buffalo. not to drive away any of your people." "but you are captured upon it. the great chief, mahpeyalute, warned the american captain and the soldiers that they must not let the white people come any farther." "that is true. i was there, and i heard red cloud give the warning." "and yet you came against the threat of mahpeyalute." "mine was an errand of a nature almost sacred. i tell you again there was no harm in it to your country and your people." "many times have the white people told to the dakotas things that were lies." "it is true, but the sins of others are not mine." will spoke with all his heart in his words. despite the terrible disaster that had befallen, even if the chief's words were true, and all his friends were dead, he wished, nevertheless, to live. he was young, strong, of great vitality, and nothing could crush the love of life in him. "what do you intend to do with me?" he asked. heraka smiled, but the smile contained nothing of gentleness or mercy, rather it was amusement at the anxiety of one who was wholly in his power. "your fate shall not be known to you until it comes," he said. will felt a chill running down his spine. it was the primal instinct to torture and slay the enemy and the sioux lived up to it. it was keen torture already to hear that his fate would surely come, but not to know how or where or when was worse. but it appeared that it was not to come at once, and with that thought he felt the thrill of hope. his was unquenchable youth and the vital spark in him flamed up. "would you mind untying my ankles?" he said. "you can save your torture for later on." heraka signed to a warrior, who cut the thongs and will, sitting up, rubbed them carefully until the blood flowed back in its natural channels. meanwhile he observed the band and counted sixteen warriors, all but heraka seeming to be the wildest of wild indians, most of them entirely naked save for moccasins and the breech cloth. they carried muzzle-loading rifles, bows and arrows hung from the bushes and lances leaned against the trees. beyond the bushes he caught glimpses of their ponies grazing, and these glimpses were sufficient to show him that they had many extra animals for the packs. when he saw them better, then he would know whether his friends were really dead, because if they were their packs and the animals would be there, too. but the chief, heraka, broke in upon the thought--he seemed able to read will's mind. "this is but part of the force that besieged you," he said. "there were three bands joined. the others with the spoil have gone west, leaving as our share the prisoner. a living captive is worth more than two scalps." will tried to remember all he had ever heard or read about the necessity of stoicism when in the hands of savage races and by a supreme effort of the will he was able to put a little of it into practice. pretending to indifference, he asked if he might have something to eat, and received roasted meat of the buffalo. he had a good appetite, despite his weakness and headache, and when he had eaten in abundance and had drunk a gourd of water they gave him he felt better. "i thank you for binding up my wounded head," he said to heraka. "i don't know your motive in doing so, but i thank you just the same." the dakota chief smiled grimly. "we do not wish you to die yet," he said, speaking his english in the precise, measured manner of one to whom it is a foreign language. "inmutanka, the panther, bound it up, and he is one of the best healers we have." "then i thank also inmutanka, or the panther, whichever he prefers to be called. i can't see the top of my head, but i know he made a good job of it." inmutanka proved to be an elderly but robust sioux warrior, and however he may have been when torture was going forward he wore just then a bland smile, although not much else. with wonderfully light and skilful hands he took off will's bandage and replaced it with another. will never knew what it was made of, but it seemed to be lined with leaves steeped in the juices of herbs. the indians had some simple remedies of great power, and he felt the effect of the new bandage at once. his headache began to abate rapidly, and with the departure of pain his views of life became much more cheerful. "i never saw you before, dr. inmutanka," he said, "but i know you're one of the finest physicians in all the west. whatever school you graduated from should give you all the degrees it has to give. again, i thank you." the indian seemed not to understand a word he said, but no one could mistake the sincerity of the lad's tone. inmutanka, otherwise the panther, smiled, and the smile was not cruel, nor yet cynical. he stepped back a little, regarded his handiwork with satisfaction, and then merged himself into the band. "that's a good sioux! i know he is!" said will warmly to heraka. "hereafter dr. inmutanka shall be my personal and private physician." heraka's face was touched by a faint smile. it was the first mild emotion he had shown and will rejoiced to see it. he found himself wishing to please this wild chief, not in any desire to seek favor, but he felt that, in its way, the approval of heraka was approval worth having. "you eat, you drink, you feel strong again," said heraka. "yes, that's it." "then we go. we are mountain sioux. we have a village deep in the high mountains that white men can never find. we will take you there, where you will await your fate, never knowing what it is nor when it will come." will was shaken once more by a terrible shudder. this constant harping upon the mysterious but fearful end that was sure to overtake him was having its effect. heraka had reckoned right when he began the torture of the mind. the chief spoke sharply to the warriors and putting out the fire they gathered up their weapons and the horses. will was mounted on one of the ponies and his ankles were tied together beneath the animal's body, but loosely only, enough to prevent a sudden flight though not enough to cause pain. there was no saddle, but as he was used to riding bare-backed he could endure it indefinitely. then the chief did a surprising thing, binding a piece of soft deerskin over will's eyes so tightly that not a ray of light entered. "why do you do that, heraka?" asked the lad. "that you may not see which way you go, nor what is by the path as you ride. soon, with your eyes covered you will lose the sense of direction and you will not be able to tell whether you go north or south or east or west." he spoke sharply to the warriors and the group set off. the direction at first was toward the north, as will well knew, but the band presently made many curves and changes of course, and, as heraka had truly said, he ceased to have any idea of the course they were taking. he saw nothing, but he heard all around him the footfalls of the ponies, and, now and then, the word of one warrior to another. he might have raised his hands to tear loose the bandage over his eyes, but he knew that the sioux would interfere at once, and he would only bring upon himself some greater pain. will felt that a warrior was riding on either side of him and presently he was aware also that the one on the right had moved up more swiftly, giving way to somebody else. a sort of mental telepathy told him that the first warrior had been replaced by a stronger and more dominant one. instinct said that it was heraka, and he was not mistaken. the chief rode on in silence for at least ten minutes and then he asked: "which way do you ride, wayaka (captive)? is it north, or south, or is it east or west?" "i don't know," confessed will. "i tried to keep the sense of direction, but we twisted and turned so much i've lost it." "i knew that it would be so. wayaka will ride many hundreds of miles, he knows not whither. and whether he is to die soon or late he will see his own people again never more. if he ever looks upon a white face again it will be the face of one who is a friend of the sioux and not of his own race, or the face of a captive like himself." [illustration: "if he ever looks upon a white face again it will be the face of one who is a friend of the sioux."] will shuddered. the threat coming from a man like heraka, who spoke in a tone at once charged with malice and power, was full of evil portent. had an ordinary indian threatened him thus he might not have been affected so deeply, but with the decree of heraka he seemed to vanish completely from the face of the earth, or, at least, from his world and all those that knew him. his will, however, was still strong. he felt instinctively that heraka was looking at him, and he would show no sign of flinching or of weakness. he straightened himself up on the pony, threw back his shoulders and replied defiantly: "i have a star that protects me, heraka. nearly every man has a star, but mine is a most powerful one, and it will save me. even now, though i cannot see and i do not know whether it is daylight or twilight, i know that my star, invisible though it may be in the heavens, is watching over me." he spoke purposely in the lofty and somewhat allegorical style, used sometimes by the higher class of indians, and he could not see its effect. but heraka, strong though his mind was, felt a touch of superstitious awe, and looking up at the heavens, all blue though they were, almost believed that he saw in them a star looking down at wayaka, the prisoner. "wayaka may have a star," he said, "but it will be of no avail, because the stars of the sioux, being so much the stronger, will overcome it." "we shall see," replied the lad. yet, despite all his brave bearing, his heart was faint within him. heraka did not speak to him again, and by the same sort of mental telepathy he felt, after a while, that the chief had dropped away from his side, and had been replaced by the original warrior. although eyes were denied to him, for the present, all his other faculties became heightened as a consequence, and he began to use them. he was sure that they were still traveling on the plains, so much dust rose, and now and then he coughed to clear it from his throat. but they were not advancing into the deeps of the great plains, because twice they crossed shallow streams, and on each occasion all the ponies were allowed to stop and drink. will knew that his own pony at the second stream drank eagerly, in fact, gulped down the water. such zest in drinking showed that the creek was not alkaline, and hence he inferred that they could not be very far from hills, and perhaps from forest. he surmised that they were going either west or north. a growing coolness, by and by, indicated to him that twilight was coming. upon the vast western plateau the nights were nearly always cold, whatever the day may have been. yet they went on another hour, and then he heard the voice of heraka, raised in a tone of command, followed by a halt. an indian unbound his feet and said something to him in sioux, which he did not understand, but he knew what the action signified, and he swung off the pony. he was so stiff from the long ride that he fell to the ground, but he sprang up instantly when he heard a sneering laugh from one of the indians. "bear in mind, heraka," he said, "that i cannot see and so it was not so easy for me to balance myself. even you, o chief, might have fallen." "it is true," said heraka. "inmutanka, take the bandage from his eyes." they were welcome words to will, who had endured all the tortures of blindness without being blind. he felt the hands of the elderly indian plucking at the bandage, and then it was drawn aside. "thank you, dr. inmutanka," he said, but for a few moments a dark veil was before his eyes. then it drifted aside, and he saw that it was night, a night in which the figures around him appeared dimly. heraka stood a few feet away, gazing at him maliciously, but during that long and terrible ride, the prisoner had taken several resolutions, and first of them was to appear always bold and hardy among the indians. he stretched his arms and legs to restore the circulation, and also took a few steps back and forth. he saw that they were in a small open space, surrounded by low bushes and he surmised that there was a pool just beyond the bushes as he heard the ponies drinking and gurgling their satisfaction. "the ride has been long and hard," he said to heraka, "and i am now ready to eat and drink. bid some warrior bring me food and water." then he sat down and rejoiced in the use of his eyes. had they been faced by a dazzling light when the bandage was taken off he might not have been able to see for a little while, but the darkness was tender and soothing. gradually he was able to see all the warriors at work making a camp, and heraka, as if the captive's command had appealed to his sense of humor, had one man bring him an abundance of water in a gourd, and then, when a fire was lighted and deer and buffalo meat were broiled, he ate with the rest as much as he liked. after supper inmutanka replaced with a fresh one the bandage upon his head, from which the pain had now departed. will was really grateful. "i want to tell you, dr. inmutanka," he said, "that there are worse physicians than you, where i come from." the old sioux understood his tone and smiled. then all the indians, most of them reclining on the earth, relapsed into silence. will felt a curious kind of peace. a prisoner with an unknown and perhaps a terrible fate close at hand, the present alone, nevertheless, concerned him. after so much hardship his body was comfortable. they had not rebound him, and they had even allowed him to walk once to the bushes, from which he could see beyond the clear pool at which the indians had filled their gourds and from which the ponies drank. one of these ponies, heraka's own, was standing near, and will with a pang saw bound to it his own fine repeating rifle, belt of cartridges and the leather case containing his field glasses. heraka's look followed his and in the light of the fire the smile of the chief was so malicious that the great pulse in will's throat beat hard with anger. "they were yours once," said heraka, "the great rifle that fires many times without reloading, the cartridges to fit, and the strong glasses that bring the far near. now they are mine." "they are yours for the present. i admit that," said the lad, "but i shall get them back again. meanwhile, if you're willing, i'll go to sleep." he thought it best to assume a perfect coolness, even if he did not feel it, and heraka said that he might sleep, although they bound his arms and ankles again, loosely, however, so that he suffered no pain and but little inconvenience. he fell asleep almost at once, and did not awake until old inmutanka aroused him at dawn. after breakfast he was put on the pony again, blindfolded, and they rode all day long in a direction of which he was ignorant, but, as he believed, over low hills, and, as he knew, among bushes, because they often reached out and pulled at his legs. nevertheless his sense of an infinite distance being created between him and his own world increased. all this traveling through the dark was like widening a gulf. it had not distance only, but depth, and the weight it pressed upon him was cumulative, making him feel that he had been riding in invisible regions for weeks, instead of two days. being deprived of his eyes for the time being, the other four primal senses again became more acute. he heard a wind blowing but it was not the free wind of the plains that meets no obstacle. instead, it brought back to him a song that was made by the moving air playing softly upon leaf and bough. hence, he inferred that they were still ascending, and had come into better watered regions where the bushes had grown to the height of trees now in full leaf. once they crossed a rather deep creek, and deliberately letting his foot drop down into it, he found the water quite cold, which was proof to him that they were going back toward the ridges, and that this current was chill, because it flowed from great heights, perhaps from a glacier. they made no stop at noon, merely eating a little pemmican, will's share being handed to him by inmutanka. he ate it as he rode along still blindfolded. the ponies, wiry and strong though they were, soon began to go much more slowly, and the captive was sure that the ascent was growing steeper. he was confirmed in this by the fact that the wind, although it was mid-afternoon, the hottest part of the day, had quite a touch of coolness. they must have been ascending steadily ever since they began the march. he soon noticed another fact. the ears that had grown uncommonly acute discerned fewer hoofbeats about him. he was firm in the belief that the band had divided and to determine whether the chief was still with them, he said: "heraka, we're climbing the mountains. i know it by the wind among the leaves and the cool air." "wayaka is learning to see even though his eyes are shut," said the voice of the chief on his right. "and a part of your force has left us. i count the hoofbeats, and they're not as many as they were before." "you are right, the mind of wayaka grows. some day--if you live--you will know enough to be a warrior." will pondered these words and their bearing on his fate, and, being able to make nothing of them, he abandoned the subjective for the objective, seeking again with the four unsuppressed senses to observe the country through which they were passing. the next night was much like the one that had gone before. they did not stop until after twilight, and the darkness was heavier than usual. the camp was made in a forest, and the wind, now quite chill, rustled among the trees. although the bandage was removed, will could not see far in the darkness, but he was confident that high mountains were straight ahead. a small brook furnished water for men and ponies, and the indians built a big fire. they were now but eight in number. inmutanka removed the last bandage from will's head, which could now take care of itself, and as the sioux permitted him to share on equal terms with themselves, he ate with a great appetite. heraka regarded him intently. "do you know where you are, wayaka?" he asked. "no," replied will, carelessly, "i don't. neither am i disturbed about it. you say that i shall never see my own people, but that is more than you or i or anyone else can possibly know." a flicker of admiration appeared in the eyes of heraka, but his voice was even and cold as he said: "it is well that you have a light heart, because to-morrow will be as to-day to you, and the next day will be the same, and the next and many more." the sioux chief spoke the truth. they rode on for days, will blindfolded in the day, his eyes free at night. he thought of himself as the man in the deerskin mask, but much of the apprehension that must overtake the boldest at such a moment began to disappear, being replaced by an intense curiosity, all the greater because everything was shut from his eyes save in the dusk. but he knew they were in high mountains, because the cold was great, and now and then he felt flurries of snow on his face, and at night he saw the loom of lofty peaks. but they did not treat him unkindly. old inmutanka threw a heavy fur robe over his shoulders, and when they camped they always built big fires, before which he slept, wrapped in blankets like the others. heraka said but little. will heard him now and then giving a brief order to the warriors, but he scarcely ever spoke to the lad directly. once in their mountain camp when the night was clear will saw a vast panorama of ridges and peaks white with snow, and he realized with a sudden and overwhelming sinking of the heart that he was in very truth and fact lost to his world, and as the sioux chief had threatened, he might never again look upon a white face save his own. it was a terrifying thought. sometimes when he awoke in the night the cold chill that he felt was not from the air. his arms were always bound when he lay down between the blankets and, once or twice, he tried to pull them free, but he knew while he was making it that the effort was vain and, even were it successful and the thongs were loosened, he could not escape. at the end of about a week they descended rapidly. the air grew warmer, the snow flurries no longer struck him in the face and the odors of forest, heavy and green, came to his nostrils. one morning they did not put the bandage upon his face and he looked forth upon a wild world of hills and woods and knew it not, nor did he know what barrier of time and space shut him from his own people. chapter xii the captive's rise will did not know just how long they had been traveling, having lost count of the days, but he knew they had come an immense distance, perhaps a thousand miles, maybe more, because the hardy indian ponies always went at a good pace, and he felt that the distance between him and every white settlement must be vast. the sun at first hurt the eyes that had been bandaged so long in daylight, but as the optic nerves grew less sensitive and they could take in all the splendor of the world, he had never before seen it so beautiful. he was like one really and truly blind for years who had suddenly recovered his sight. everything was magnified, made more vivid, more intense, and his joy, captive though he was, was so keen that he could not keep from showing it. "you find it pleasant to live," said heraka. "yes," replied the lad frankly, "i don't mind admitting to you that i like living. and i like seeing, too, in the bright sunshine, when i've been so long without it. you warned me, heraka, that i would not know my fate, nor whence nor when it might come, but instinct tells me that it's not coming yet, and as one who can see again i mean to enjoy the bright days." "wayaka is but a youth. if he were older he would fear more." "but i'm not older. this, i suppose, is where we mean to stay awhile?" "it is. it is one of our hidden valleys. beyond the stretch of forest is a sioux village, and there you will stay until your fate befalls you." "i imagine, heraka, that you did not come here merely to escort me. so great a chief would not take so long a ride for one so insignificant as i am. you must have had another motive." "though wayaka is a youth he is also keen. it is part of a great plan, of which i will tell you nothing, save that the sioux are a mighty nation, their lands extending hundreds of miles in every direction, and they gather all their forces to push back the whites." "then your long journey must be diplomatic. you travel to the farthest outskirt in order to gather your utmost forces for the conflict." heraka smiled rather grimly. "wayaka may be right," he said. "he is a youth of understanding, but in the village beyond the wood you are to stay until you leave it, but you will not know in what manner or when you will depart from it." will inferred that his departure might be for the happy hunting grounds rather than for some other place, but it could not depress him. he was too much suffused with joy over his release from his long blindness and with the splendor of the new world about him to feel sadness. for a while nothing can weigh down the blind who see again. it was surely the finest valley in the world into which they had come! heraka gave the word and he and his men rode forward toward the strip of wood that he had indicated. all the ponies, although strong and wiry, were thin and worn by their long journey, and some of the indians, despite their great endurance, showed signs of weariness. little as they displayed emotion, their own eyes had lighted up at sight of the pleasant place into which they had come. will could not tell the length of the valley owing to its curving nature, but he surmised that it might possibly be twenty miles, with a general average width of perhaps two or three. all around it were high mountains, and on the distant and loftier ones the snow line seemed to come further down than on those he had seen with his comrades. quick to observe and to draw conclusions the fact was another proof to him that they had been traveling mostly north. the trees in the valley were chiefly of the coniferous type, fir, pine and spruce. despite the warmth of the air all things wore for him a northern aspect, but he made no comment to heraka. they reached the strip of wood, and one of the warriors uttered a long cry that was answered instantly from a point not far ahead. then young indian lads came running, welcoming them with shouts of joy, and, with this escort, they rode into the village, which was well placed in a grassy opening in the very center of the forest. will saw an irregular collection of about a hundred tepees, all conical, most of them made from the skin of the buffalo, though in some cases the hides of bear and elk had been used. all were supported on a framework of poles stripped of their bark. the poles were about twenty feet in length, fastened in a circle at the bottom and leaning toward a common center, where they crossed at a height of twelve or thirteen feet. the diameter of the tepees at the bottom was anywhere from fifteen to twenty feet, and hence they were somewhat larger than the usual sioux lodges. all the tepees had an uncommon air of solidity, as if the poles that made their framework were large, strong, and thrust deep in the earth. the covering skins were sewed together with rawhide strings as tight and secure as the work of any sailor. one seam reaching about six feet from the ground was left open and this was the doorway, over which a buffalo hide or other skin could be lashed in wintry or stormy weather. at present all the tepees were open, and will saw many squaws and children about. just beyond the village and at the edge of the forest ran a considerable creek, evidently fed by the melting snows on the high mountains, and, on extensive meadows of high grass beyond the creek, grazed a great herd of ponies, fat and in good condition. will decided at once that it was a village of security and abundance. the mountains must be filled with game, and the creek was deep enough for large fish. he had been left unbound as they descended into the valley and, deciding that he must follow a policy of boldness, he leaped off the pony when they entered the village, just as if he were coming back home. but the old squaws and the children did not give him peace. they crowded around him, uttering cries that he knew must be taunts or jeers. then they began to push and pull him and to snatch at his hair. finally an old squaw thrust a splinter clean through his coat and into his arm. the pain was exquisite, but, turning, he took her chin firmly in one hand and with the other slapped her cheeks so severely that she would have fallen to the ground if it had not been for the detaining grasp on her chin. the crowd, with the instinct for the rough that dwells in all primitive breasts, roared with laughter, and will knew that his bold act had brought him a certain measure of public favor. heraka with a sharp word or two sent all the women and children flying, and then said in tones of great gravity to will: "here you are to remain a prisoner, the prisoner of all the village, until we choose your fate. you will stay in a tepee with inmutanka, but everybody will watch you, the men, the women, the girls and the boys. nothing that you do can escape their notice, and you will not have the slightest chance of flight." "if i am to be anybody's guest," said will, "i'd choose to be old dr. inmutanka's. he has a soul in his body." "you are not a guest, you are a slave," said heraka. will did not appreciate the full significance of his words then, because inmutanka was showing the way to one of the smaller tepees and he entered it, finding it clean and commodious. the ground was covered with bark, over which furs and skins were spread and there was a place in the center for a fire, the smoke to ascend through a triangular opening in the top, where it was regulated by a wing worked from the outside. inmutanka, who undoubtedly had a kind heart, pointed to a heap of buffalo robes in the corner, and will threw himself upon them. all the enormous exhaustion of such a tremendous journey suddenly became cumulative and he slept until inmutanka awoke him a full fifteen hours later. then he discovered that the old indian really knew a little english, though he had hidden the fact before. "you eat," he said, and gave him fish, venison and some bread of indian corn, which will ate with the huge appetite of the young and strong. "now you work," said inmutanka, when he had finished. will stared at him, and then he remembered heraka's words of the day before that he was a slave. he was assailed by a sickening sensation but he pulled himself together bravely, and, having become a wise youth, he resolved that he would not make his fate worse by vain resistance. "all right," he said, "what am i to do?" "you be pony herd now." "well, that isn't so bad." inmutanka led the way across the creek, or rather river, and will saw that the herd on the meadows was quite large, numbering at least a thousand ponies, and also many large american horses, captured or stolen. they grazed at will on the deep grass, but small indian boys carrying sticks watched them continually. "you take your place here with boys," said inmutanka, "and see that ponies don't run up and down valley." he gave him a stick and left him with the little sioux lads. will considered the task extremely light, certainly not one that had a savor of slavery, but he soon found that he was surrounded by pests. the indian boys began to torment him, slipping up behind him, pulling his hair and then darting away again, throwing stones or clods of earth at him, and seeking to drive ponies upon him. will's heart was suffused with anger. they were younger and smaller than he, but they had an infinite power to vex or cause pain. nevertheless he clung to his resolution. he refused to show anger, and while it was by no means his disposition to turn one cheek when the other was smitten, he exhibited a patience of which he had not believed himself capable. he also showed a power that they did not possess. when some of the younger and friskier ponies sought to break away from the main herd and race up the river he soothed them by voice and touch and turned them back in such an amazing manner that the indian boys brought some of the older warriors to observe his magic with horses. will saw the men watching, but he pretended not to notice. nevertheless he felt that fate, after playing him so many bad tricks, was now doing him a good turn. he would exploit his power with animals to the utmost. indians were always impressed with an unusual display of ability of any kind, and they felt that its possessor was endowed with magic. he walked freely among the ponies, which would have turned their heels on the indian lads, and stroked their manes and noses. the warriors went away without saying anything. the indian boys returned to the village shortly after noon, but their place was taken by a fresh band, while will remained on duty. nor was he allowed to leave until long after twilight, when, surprised to find how weary he was, he dragged his feet to the tepee of inmutanka, where he had venison, pemmican and water. "not so bad," he said to the old indian. "i believe i'm a good herd for ponies, though i'd rather do it riding than walking." "to-morrow you scrape hides with squaws," said inmutanka. will was disappointed, but he recalled that after the threat of heraka he should not expect to get off with such an easy task as the continual herding of ponies. scraping hides would be terribly wearying and it would be a humiliation to put him with the old squaws. nevertheless his heart was light. the fate of the white captive too often was speedy and horrible torture and death. he felt that the longer they were delayed, less was the likelihood that he would ever have to suffer them at all. he was awakened at dawn, and as soon as he had eaten he was put to his task. fresh buffalo hides were stretched tightly and staked upon the ground, the inner side up, and he and a dozen old squaws began the labor of scraping from them the last particles of flesh with small knives of bone. he cut his hands, his back ached, the perspiration streamed from his face, and the squaws, far more expert than he, jeered at him continually. warriors also passed and uttered contemptuous words in an unknown language. but will, clinging to his resolution, pretended to take no notice. long before the day was over every bone in him was aching and his hands were bleeding, but he made no complaint. when he returned to the tepee inmutanka put a lotion on his hands. "it good for you, but must not tell," he said. "i wouldn't dream of telling," said will fervently. "god bless you, inmutanka. if there's any finer doctor than you anywhere in the world i never heard of him." but he had to go back to the task of scraping the skins early in the morning, and for a week he labored at it, until he thought his back would never straighten out again. he recalled that first day with the pony herd. the labor there was heaven compared with that which he was now doing. perhaps he had been wrong to show his power with animals: if he had pretended to be awkward and ignorant with horses they might have kept him there. he made no sign, nor did he give any hint to inmutanka that he would like a change. he judged, too, that he had inspired a certain degree of respect and liking in the old indian who put such effective ointment on his hands every night that at the end of a week all the cuts and bruises were healed. moreover, he had learned how to use the bone scrapers with a sufficient degree of skill not to cut himself. but he was still a daily subject of derision for the warriors, women and children. it was the little indian boys who annoyed him most, often trying to thrust splinters into his arms or legs, although he invariably pushed them away. he never struck any of them, however, and he saw that his forbearance was beginning to win from the warriors, at least, a certain degree of toleration. when the scraping of the skins was finished he was set to work with some of the old men making lances. these were formidable weapons, at least twelve feet long, an inch to an inch and a half in diameter, ending in a two-edged blade made of flint, elk horn or bone, and five or six inches in length. the wood, constituting the body of the lance, had to be scraped down with great care, and the prisoner toiled over them for many days. then he began to make shields from the hide that grew on the neck of the buffalo, where it was thickest. when it was denuded of hair the hide was a full quarter of an inch through. then it was cut in a circle two or two and a half feet in diameter and two of the circles were joined together, making a thickness of a full half inch. dried thoroughly the shield became almost as hard as iron, and the bullet of the old-fashioned rifle would not penetrate it. he also helped to make bows, the favorite wood being of osage orange, although pine, oak, elm, elder and many other kinds were used, and he was one of the toilers, too, at the making of arrows. mounted on his wiry pony with his strong shield, his long lance, his powerful bow and quiver of arrows, the sioux was a formidable warrior, and will understood how he had won the overlordship of such a vast area. a month, in which he was subjected to the most unremitting toil, passed, yet his spirit and body triumphed over it, and both grew stronger. he felt now as if he could endure anything and he knew that he would be called upon to endure much. his youth and his plastic nature caused him to imitate to a certain extent, and almost unconsciously, the manners and customs of those around him. he became stoical, he pretended to an indifference which often he did not feel, and he never spoke of the friends who had disappeared so suddenly from his life, even to old inmutanka. the "doctor," as will called him, was improving his english by practice, and will in return was learning sioux fast both from inmutanka and from the people in the village. he knew the names of many animals. the buffalo was pteha, the bear was warankxi, the badger, roka; the deer, tarinca; the wolf, xunktokeca. one can get along with a surprisingly small vocabulary, and one also learns fast when he is surrounded by people who do not speak his own language. in six weeks will had quite a smattering of the sioux tongue. he still lived in the lodge of inmutanka, who was invariably kind and helpful, and will soon had a genuine liking for the good old doctor. it pleased him to wait upon inmutanka as if he were a son. it was, on the whole, well for the lad that he was compelled to work, because after the day's labors were over and he had eaten his supper, he fell asleep from exhaustion, and slept without dreams. thus he was not able to think as much as he would have done about his present condition, the great quest that he had been compelled to abandon, and those whom he had lost. yet he could not believe, despite what heraka had said, that boyd, brady and the little giant were lost. but he had many bitter moments. often the humiliations were almost greater than he could bear, and it seemed that his quest was over forever. these thoughts came most at night, but renewed courage would always reappear in the morning. he was too young, too strong, to feel permanent despair, and his body was growing so tough and enduring that, in his belief, if a time to escape ever came, he would be equal to it. but it was obvious that no such time was at hand. there were several hundred pairs of eyes in the village and he knew that every pair above five years of age watched him. nothing that he did escaped their attention. somebody was always near him, and, if he attempted flight, the alarm would be given before he went ten yards, and the whole village would come swarming upon him. so he wisely made no such trial, and seemed to settle down into a sort of content. he saw no more then of heraka, who had evidently gone away to the great war with the white men, but he saw a good deal of the chief of the village, an old man named xingudan, which in sioux meant the fox. xingudan's face was seamed with years, though his tall figure was not bent, and will soon learned that his name had been earned. xingudan, though he seldom went on the war path now, was full of craft and guile and cunning. the village under his rule was orderly and more far-seeing than indians usually are. the sioux began to strengthen their lodges and to accumulate stores of pemmican. the maize in several small, sheltered fields farther down the valley was gathered carefully. the boys brought in bushels of nuts, and will admired the industry and ability of xingudan. it was evident that winter was coming, although the touch as yet was only that of autumn. it was a magnificent autumn that the lad witnessed. the foliage in the mountains glowed in the deepest and most intense colors that he had ever seen, reds, yellows, browns and shades between. far up on the slopes he saw great splotches of color blazing in scarlet, and far beyond them in the north the white crests of dim and towering mountains. he was strengthened in his belief that he was far to the north of the fighting line, although his conclusion was based only upon his own observations. no indian, not even a child, had ever spoken to him a word to indicate where he was. he inferred that silence upon that point had been enjoined and that old xingudan would punish severely any infraction of the law. even inmutanka, so kind in other respects, would never give forth a word of information. as the autumn deepened, the lad's mind underwent another strange change, or perhaps it was not so strange at all. youth must adapt itself, and he began to feel a certain sympathy and friendliness with the young sioux of his own age. he also began to see wild life at its best, that is, under the circumstances most favorable to happiness. the village was full of food, the hunting had never been better, and the forest had yielded an uncommon quantity of fruits and nuts. all the primitive wants were satisfied, and there was no sickness. after dark the youths of the village roamed about, playing and skylarking like so many white lads of their own age, but the girls as soon as the twilight came remained close in the lodges. will saw a kind of happiness he had never looked upon before, a happiness that was wholly of the moment, untroubled by any thoughts of the future, and therefore without alloy. he saw that the primitive man when his stomach was full, and the shelter was good could have absolute physical joy. strangely enough he found himself taking an interest in these pleasures, and by and by he began to share in them to a minor degree. the river afforded a fine stretch of water, and the indians had large canoes which they now used freely for purposes of sport. these boats were made of strong rawhide, generally about thirty feet long, although one was a full fifty feet, and they also had several boats shaped like huge bowls, made with a frame of wicker and covering it, the strongest buffalo hide, sewed together with unbreakable rawhide strings. they called these round boats watta tatankaha, which will learnt meant in english bull boats. just such boats as these were used on the tigris, and the euphrates, the oldest of rivers known to civilized man. the first sign of relenting toward the captive lad was when he was allowed to withdraw from the hard work of strengthening a lodge to take a place alone in one of the bull boats and navigate it with a paddle down the river, at a place where it had a depth past fording. the stream was swift here and, despite his knowledge of ordinary curves, the round craft overturned with him before he had gone twenty feet, amid shouts of laughter from the sioux gathered on either bank. the water flowing down from the mountains was very cold, but will scorned to cry for help. he was a powerful swimmer and he struck out boldly for the round boat, which was floating ahead. he had held on to the paddle all the while and, by a desperate struggle, he managed to right his craft and pull himself into it again. he was so much immersed in his physical struggle that he did not know the indian children were pelting him with sticks and clods of earth, and were shouting in amusement and derision. but the warriors were grave and silent. another struggle and the round boat overturned again. but he held on to the paddle and recovered it a second time. a new and desperate contest between him and the boat followed, but in the end he was victor and paddled it both down and up-stream in a fairly steady manner. then he brought it into the landing where he was received in a respectful silence. in his struggles to succeed will had taken little notice of the coldness of the waters, but when he went back to the lodge he had a severe chill, followed by a high fever. then old inmutanka proved himself the doctor that will called him by using a remedy that either killed or cured. inmutanka gave the lad a sweat bath. he made a heap of stones and built a big fire upon them, feeding it until their heat was very great. then he scraped away the fuel and put up a framework made of poles, covered with layers of skins. these layers were six or seven feet above the stones. will was placed in a skin hammock under the layers and suspended about two feet above the hot stones. water was then poured on these, until a dense steam arose. when inmutanka thought that will had stood it as long as he could, he withdrew him from the hot steam bath, although medicine men sometimes left their patients in too long, allowing them to be scalded to death. in will's case it was cure, not kill. the fever quickly disappeared from his system and though it left him very weak he recovered so rapidly that in a few days he was as strong as ever, in fact, stronger, because all the impurities had been steamed out of his system, and the new blood generated was better than the old. he learned, too, from inmutanka that he had won respect in the village by his courage and tenacity, and that many were in favor of lightening his labors, although the fox was as stern as ever. will was still compelled to realize that he was a slave; that he, a white lad, the heir of untold centuries of civilization and culture, was the slave of a people who, despite all their courage and other virtues, were savages. they stood where, in many respects, his ancestors had stood ten or twenty thousand years ago. again and again, the thought was so bitter that he felt like making a run for freedom and ending it all on the indian spear. but the thought would change, and with it came the hope that some day or other the moment of escape would appear, and there was a lurking feeling, too, that his present life was not wholly unpleasant, or, at least, there were compensations. an increased strength came with the rapid recovery from his illness. beyond any question he had grown in both height and breadth since he had been in the mountains, and his muscles were as hard as iron. not one of the indian youths could exert as much direct strength as he, or endure as much. his patience, which was now largely the result of calculation and will, began to have its visible effect upon the people. there is nothing that an indian admires more than stoicism. the fortitude that can endure pain without a groan is to him the highest of attributes. will had never complained, no matter how great his hardships or labors, and gradually they began to look upon him as one of their own. his face was tanned heavily by continuous exposure to all kinds of weather, his original garments were worn out, and he was now clad wholly in deerskins. a casual observer would have passed him at any time as a tall indian youth. one day as a mark of favor he was put back as a guard upon the herd of ponies, now considerably increased in numbers, probably by raids upon other tribes, and full of life, as they had done little all the autumn but crop the rich grass of the valley. will found himself busy keeping them within bounds, but his old, happy touch soon returned, and the indians, to their renewed amazement, soon saw the animals obeying him instinctively. "it is magic," said old xingudan. "then it is good magic," said inmutanka, "and wayaka is a good lad. he does not know it yet, but he is beginning to like our life. think of that, o, xingudan." "you were ever of soft heart, o, inmutanka," said xingudan, as he turned away. will's tasks were as long as ever, but they changed greatly in character. he was no longer compelled to work with the women and children, save when the tending of the herds brought him into contact with the boys, but there he was now an acknowledged chief. a distemper appeared among the ponies and the sioux were greatly alarmed, but will, with some simple remedies he had learned in the east, stopped it quickly and with the loss of but two or three ponies. old xingudan gave him no thanks save a brief, "it is well," but the lad knew that he had done them a great service and that they were not wholly ungrateful. he had proof of it a little later, when he was allowed to take part in the trapping and snaring of wild beasts, although he was always accompanied by three or four indian youths, and was never permitted to have any weapon. but he showed zeal, and he enjoyed the freedom, although it was only that of the valley and the slopes. he learned to set traps with the best of them, and became an adept in the taking and curing of game. all the while the autumn was deepening and wild life was becoming more endurable. the foliage on slopes and in the valley that had burned in fiery hues, now began to fade into yellow and brown. the winds out of the north grew fierce and cutting, and on the vast and distant peaks the snow line came down farther and farther. "waniyetu (winter) will soon be here," said old inmutanka. "the village is in good condition to meet it," said will. "better than most villages of our people," said inmutanka. "the white man presses back the red man because the red man thinks only of today, while the white man thinks of tomorrow too. the white man is not any braver than the red man, often he is not as brave, and he is not as cunning, but when the indian's stomach is full his head goes to sleep. while the plains are covered with the buffalo in the summer, sometimes our people starve to death in the winter." "i suppose, doctor," said will, "that one can't have everything. if he is anxious about the future he can't enjoy the present." the old sioux shook his head and remained dissatisfied. "the buffalo is our life," he said, "or, at least, the life of the sioux tribes that ride the great plains. manitou sends the buffalo to us. buffaloes, in numbers past all human counting, are born by the will of manitou under the ground and in the winter. when the spring winds begin to blow they come from beneath the earth through great caves and they begin their march northward. if the sioux and the other indian nations were to displease manitou he might not send the buffalo herds out through the great caves, and then we should perish." will afterward discovered that this was a common belief among the indians of the plains. some old men claimed to have seen these caves far down in texas, and it was quite common for the ancients of the tribes to aver that their fathers or grandfathers had seen them. most of them held, too, to the consoling belief that however great the slaughter of buffaloes by white man and red, manitou would continue to send them in such vast numbers that the supply could never be exhausted, although a few such as inmutanka had a fear to the contrary. inmutanka, as became his nature, was provident. the lodge that he and will inhabited was well stored with pemmican, with nuts and a good store of shelled corn. it also held many dried herbs and to will's eyes, now long unused to civilization, it was a comfortable and cheerful place. a fire was nearly always kept burning in the centre, and he managed to improve the little vent and wind vane at the top in such a manner that the smoke was carried off well, and his eyes did not suffer from it. then a fierce, cold rain came, blown by bitter winds and stripping the last leaf from the trees. at will's own suggestion, vast brush shelters had been thrown up near the slopes. crude and partial though they were, they gave the great pony herd much protection, and when old xingudan inspected them carefully he looked at will and said briefly: "it is good." will felt that he had taken another step into favor, and it was soon proved by a lightening of his labors and an increase in his share of the general amusements. life was continually growing more tolerable. the black periods were becoming shorter and the bright periods were growing longer. the evenings had now grown so cold that the young sioux spent them mostly in the lodges, will devoting a large part of his time to learning the language from inmutanka, who was a willing teacher. as he had much leisure and the sioux vocabulary was limited he could soon talk it fluently. all the while the winter deepened and will, seeing that he would have no possible chance of escape for many months, resigned himself to his captivity. the fierce rain that lasted two days, was followed by snow, but the indians still hunted and brought in much game, particularly several fine elk of the great size found only in the far northwest. they stood as tall as a horse, and will judged that they weighed more than a thousand pounds apiece. then deeper snow came and he could hear it thundering in avalanches on the distant slopes. he was quite sure now that they were even farther north than he had at first supposed, and that probably they would be snowed in all the winter in the valley, a condition to which the indians were indifferent, as they had good shelter and plenty of food. they began to make snowshoes, but will judged that they would be used for hunting rather than for travel. there was no reason on earth that he knew why the village should move, or any of its people abandon it. the warriors spent a part of their time making lances, bows, arrows and shields, sometimes working in a cave-like opening in the slope a little distance from the village. will did his share of this work and grew exceedingly skilful. one very cold morning he and several others were toiling hard at the task under the critical eye of old xingudan, who sat on a ledge wrapped in a pair of heavy blankets, will's fine repeating rifle lying across his knees. two of the warriors were sent back to the village for more materials, the others were dispatched on different tasks until finally only will was left at work, with xingudan watching. the fox had seen many winters and summers, and his wilderness wisdom was great, but he was an indian and a sioux to the bone. he had noted the steady march of the white man toward the west, and even if the buffalo continued to come forever in countless numbers out of the vast caves in the south, they might come, in time, for the white man only and not for the red. he regarded will with a yellow and evil eye. wayaka was a good lad--he had proved it more than once--but he was a representative of the conquering and hated race. heraka had said that his fate, the most terrible that could be devised, must come some day, but wayaka was not to know the hour of its coming; no sign that it was at hand must be given. xingudan went over again the words of heraka, who was higher in rank than he, and he pursed his lips thoughtfully, trying to decide what he would do. then he heard a woof and a snort, and a sudden lurch of a heavy body. he sprang to his feet in alarm. while he was thinking and inattentive, rota (the grizzly bear), not yet gone into his winter sleep, vast and hungry, was upon him. xingudan was no coward, but he was not so agile as a younger man. he sprang to his feet and hastily leveling the repeating rifle fired once, twice. the indian is not a good marksman, least of all when in great haste. one of the bullets flew wild, the other struck him in the shoulder, and to rota that was merely the thrust of a needle, stinging but not dangerous. a stroke of a great paw and the rifle was dashed from the hands of the old chief. then he upreared himself in his mighty and terrible height, one of the most powerful and ferocious beasts, when wounded, that the world has ever known. will had seen the rush of the grizzly and the defense of the chief. he snatched up a great spear, a weapon full ten feet long and with a point and blade as keen as a razor. he thrust it past xingudan and, with all his might, full into the chest of the upreared bear. strength and a prodigious effort driven on by nervous force sped the blow, and the bear, huge as he was, was fairly impaled. but will still hung to the lance and continued to push. terrific roars of pain and anger came from the throat of the bear. a bloody foam gushed from his mouth and he fell heavily, wrenching the spear from the boy's grasp and breaking the shaft as he fell. his great sides heaved, but presently he lay quite still, and will, quivering from his immense nervous effort, knew that he was dead. old xingudan, who had been half stunned, rose to his feet, steadied himself, and said with great dignity: "you have saved my life, wayaka. it was a great deed to slay rota with only capa (a spear) and the beast, too, is one of the most monstrous that has ever come into this valley. you are no longer wayaka, but you shall be known as waditaka (the brave), nor shall i forget to be grateful." will steadied himself and sat down on a rock, because he was somewhat dizzy after such a frightful encounter. but he was glad that it had occurred. he had no doubt that xingudan had spoken with the utmost sincerity, and now the ruler of the village was his staunch friend. chapter xiii the reward of merit while he was yet dizzy and the motes were flying in millions before his eyes, he heard shouts, and warriors came running, attracted by the sound of the shots. they cried out in amazement and delight at the monstrous grizzly lying slain upon the ground, and then turned to xingudan to compliment him upon his achievement. but the old warrior spoke tersely: "it was not i," said he, "it was wayaka, who has now become waditaka, who slew the great grizzly with a spear. rarely has such a deed been done. the life of your chief, xingudan, has been saved by a slave." will, who now understood sioux well, heard every word and his heart began to beat. the motes ceased to dance before his eyes and the blood flowed back into his veins. it was a strange thing, but he had begun to acquire a liking for these indians, savage and wild though they were, and, as he judged, so far removed from the white people that they came into contact with them but seldom. perhaps a lucky chance, a valiant impulse, was about to put him on their social plane, that is, he might be raised from the condition of a slave to that of a freeman, free, at least, to go about the village as he pleased, and not to do the work of a menial. several of the young warriors turned to him and spoke their approval. the trace of a liking that had appeared in him had found a response in them. friendship replies to friendship, and will, who six months ago would have laughed at the endorsement of blanketed wild men, now felt a thrill of pleasure. but xingudan as yet said little more. he pointed to the great bear and said: "the skin belongs to waditaka and inmutanka. the flesh will be divided among the people." will and the old warrior, with the help of some of the young men, removed the monstrous hide. he did not care for any of the flesh, although he knew that the people would use large portions of it. then he and inmutanka scraped it carefully, and, when it was well cured until it was soft and flexible, they put it in their lodge, where it spread so far over the bark floor that they were compelled to roll it back partly, to keep it out of the fire in the centre. it was the finest trophy in the village, and many came to admire it. "rota was the largest that any of us has ever seen," said inmutanka, "but the farther north we go the larger grow the great bears. far up near the frozen seas it is said they are so large that they are almost as heavy as a buffalo. it is true, too, of ta (the moose). word comes out of the far north that he has been found there having the weight of at least three of our ponies." will did not doubt what inmutanka said, but his interest in his words was due chiefly to the inferences he drew from them. inmutanka spoke of the immensity of the bear because they were in the far north, and it was only another confirmation of his belief that the great march after he was taken captive had been made almost due north. they must be in some valley in the vast range of mountains that ran in an unbroken chain from the arctic to the antarctic, more than ten thousand miles. perhaps they had gone much beyond the american line, and this was the last outlying village of the sioux. but he did not bother himself about it now, knowing that he could do nothing until next spring, as the snow fell heavily and almost continuously. it was three or four feet deep about the lodges and he knew that it lay in unmeasured depths in the passes. all the world was gleaming white, but the crests of the mountains were seldom visible, owing to the driving storms. plenty and cheerfulness prevailed in the village. will had an idea that he was seeing savage life under the most favorable conditions. it was too true that the indian coming in contact with the white man generally learned his vices and not his virtues, and too often forgot his own virtues also, until he became wholly bad. but this village, save for its firearms and metal tomahawks, was in much the same condition that other indian villages must have been four or five hundred years earlier. old xingudan ruled with the alternate severity and forbearance of a patriarch, and now he showed his kindly side to will, treating him almost as one of their own young warriors. the "almost" was soon turned to a fact, as old inmutanka formally adopted will as his son with the ceremonies customary on such occasions, and he knew therefore that his struggle had been achieved at last, that he had now attained a plane of social equality with the indians of the village. whatever it may have seemed six months before, it was no small triumph now. his task was chiefly in the making of arms, along with the other warriors, and he soon become the equal of any of them. he also practiced with them the throwing of the tomahawk at trees, in which he acquired wonderful dexterity. but his best work was done among the ponies. often in jest he called himself the horse doctor of the camp. he had studied their ailments and he knew how to cure them, but above all was his extraordinary gift of reaching into the horse nature, a power, derived he knew not whence or how, of conveying to them the sympathy for them in his nature. they responded as human beings do to such a feeling, and, with a word and a sign, he could lead a whole herd from one field to another. this power of his impressed the sioux even more than his slaying of the monstrous grizzly bear with only a spear. it was a gift direct from manitou, and they were proud that an adopted warrior of their village should have such a mysterious strength. will knew now that he was no longer in danger of torture by fire or otherwise. old xingudan would not do it. heraka, who was his superior chief, might return and command it, but xingudan and the whole village would disobey. moreover, he was now the adopted son of inmutanka, a young sioux warrior with all the rights of a sioux, and the law forbade them to torture him or put him to death. and indian laws were often better obeyed than white man's laws. xingudan kept his repeating rifle, his revolver and his field glasses, but a bow and arrows were permitted to him, and he learned to use them as well as any of the indians. the valley and the slopes that were not too high and steep, afforded an extensive hunting range, despite the deep snow, and will brought down with a lucky arrow a fine elk that made for him a position yet better in the village, as he and inmutanka, his father, were entitled to the body, but instead divided at least half of it among the older and weaker men and women. despite the favor into which he had come, will could learn nothing of his location or of the progress of the war between the great sioux nation and the whites. yet of the latter he had a hint. just before the winter closed in on them finally, a young warrior, evidently a runner because he bore all the signs of having travelled far and fast, arrived in the valley. he was taken into the lodge of xingudan and he departed the next morning with five of the young warriors of the village, the best men they had. when will referred to their absence he received either no answer or an ambiguous one. inmutanka himself would say nothing about them, but will made a shrewd surmise that the runner had come for help in the great war and that the last and uttermost village would be stripped in the attempt to turn back the white tide. his growing appreciation of wild life caused him to have an increasing feeling of sympathy for the sioux. the white flood would engulf them some day. he knew that just as well as he knew that he was in the valley, but as for himself, he had no wish to see the buffalo disappear from the plains. if his own personal desires were consulted the west would remain a wilderness and a land of romance. it was pleasant to think that there was an immense region in which one could always discover a towering peak, a noble river or a splendid lake. adopted now into the tribe, and far from the battle line, he might have drifted on indefinitely with the indians, but there was the memory of his white comrades, whom he could not believe dead, and also the mission upon which he had started, the hunt for the great mine which his father had found. the reasons why he should continue the search were overwhelming, and despite the kindness of inmutanka and the others he meant to escape from them whenever he could. the winter shut down fierce and hard. will had never before known cold so intense and continuous. in the valley itself the snow lay deep and its surface was frozen hard, but the indians moved over it easily on their snowshoes, the use of which will learned with much pain and tribulation. the river was covered with ice of great thickness, but the indians cut holes in it and caught many excellent fish, which added a pleasant variety to their diet. one of their hardest struggles was to keep alive the herd of ponies. at the suggestion of will and of xingudan, who was a wise man beyond his race, much forage had been cut for them before the winter fell, and in the alcoves of the mountains where the snow was thin they were continually seeking grass, which grew despite everything. will led in the work of saving the herd, and gradually he directed almost his whole time to it. he insisted upon gathering anything they could eat, even twigs, and indian ponies are very tough. the young boys, the old men and the old women helped him and were directed by him. scarcely any young warriors were left in the village and will's strength and intelligence fitted him for leadership. the weaker people began to rely upon him and, as he learned the ways of the wild and fused them with the ways of civilization, he became a great source of strength in the village. he wore a beautiful deerskin suit which several of the old women had made for him in gratitude for large supplies of food that he had given to them, and he had a splendid overcoat which inmutanka and he had made of a buffalo robe. the lodge of inmutanka and waditaka, who had once been known as wayaka, became the most attractive in the village. will lined the fire hole in the centre with stones, and in the roof he made a sort of flue which caused the vent to draw so much better that they were not troubled by smoke. he reinforced the bark floor with more bark, over which the great bear robe was spread on one side of the fire, while the other side was covered with the skins of smaller bears, wolves and wildcats. many small articles of decoration or adornment hung about the walls. inmutanka had been in the habit of shutting the door tightly at night, but as will insisted upon leaving it open partly, no matter how bitter the weather, they always had plenty of fresh air and suffered from no colds. will, too, insisted upon the utmost cleanliness and neatness, qualities in which the indian does not always excel, and his example raised the tone of the village. a period of very great cold came. will reckoned that the mercury must be at least forty degrees below zero, and, for a week, the people scarcely stirred from their lodges. then occurred the terrible invasion of the mountain wolves, the like of which the oldest man could not recall. will and inmutanka were awakened at dawn by a distant but ferocious whining. "wolves," said inmutanka, "and they are hungry, but they will not attack a village." he turned over in his warm buffalo robes and prepared to go to sleep again, but the whining grew louder and more ferocious, increasing to such an extent that inmutanka became alarmed and went to the door. when he pulled back the flap yet farther the howling seemed very near and inexpressibly fierce. "it is a great pack," said the old sioux. "i have never before heard so many wolves howl together, and their voices are so big and fierce that they must be those of the great wolves of the northern mountains." "they're going to attack the village," said will. "i can tell that by the way they're coming on." "it is so," said inmutanka. "they run on the snow, which is frozen so deep that it can bear their weight." will threw on rapidly his deerskin suit, his buffalo overcoat and took down his bow and quiver of arrows. inmutanka meanwhile beat heavily on a war drum, and in the bitter cold and darkness all who were able to fight poured out of the lodges, xingudan at their head, carrying will's rifle and revolver. several of the indian women brought torches and held them aloft, casting vivid lines of red upon the frozen snow. from the great corral came frightened neighs and whinnies from the ponies, that knew a terrible foe was at hand. it was probably the ponies that would have been attacked first, but it was not in the character of the sioux to stay in their lodges and let their animals be devoured. valiantly, they had rushed forth to meet the most formidable wolf pack that had ever come out of the north, and by the light of the torches will presently saw the great, gaunt, shadowy forms and the fiery eyes of the huge wolves which, driven by hunger, had boldly attacked a village. it was impossible for him to estimate even their approximate numbers, but he believed they could not be less than several hundred. they hovered a while at the north side of the village, and then old xingudan opened fire with the repeating rifle. howling savagely, the wolves made their rush. the indians who had rifles fired as fast as they could, but the bows, much more numerous, did the deadlier work. will, remembering to keep his nerves steady, and standing by the side of his foster father, inmutanka, sent arrow after arrow, generally at the throats of the wolves, and he rarely missed. but the great pack, evidently driven by the fiercest hunger, did not give way for bullet or arrows. huge slavering beasts, they pressed on continually. two or three of the older men were pulled down and devoured before the very eyes of the people, and will, who was rapidly shooting away his last arrows, felt himself seized by an immense horror. if the savage brutes should break through their line they would all be killed and eaten. save for a rifle or two, time had turned back ten or twenty thousand years, when men fought continually with the great flesh-eaters for a place on earth. seized by an idea, he rushed to the center of the village where a great fire was burning, and snatched up a torch, calling to others to do likewise. it was the old squaws who were the quickest witted and they obeyed him at once. twenty women held aloft the flaming wood, and they rushed directly in the faces of the wolves, which gave back as they had not given back before either rifle or arrow. then the arrows sang in swarms, and the pack, fierce though its hunger might be, was unable to withstand more and fled. xingudan urged forward a pursuit. will had exhausted his arrows, but an old warrior loaned him a long lance, and with it he slew two of the brutes which were now panic stricken. yet the chief, like a good general, still pressed the fleeing horde, although the wolves turned once and another old man was killed. inmutanka himself came very near losing his life, as a monster whirled and sprang for him, but will received the throat of the wolf on the point of the lance, and although he was borne to the earth, the raging brute was killed instantly. when the wintry dawn came, none of the great pack was left alive near the village. at least half were slain, and the others had scrambled away in some fashion among the mountains. the village had escaped a great danger, but it rejoiced in victory. the old men, or what was left of them, were buried decently and then there was an immense taking of wolf-skins, the fine pelts of the huge northern beasts, which would long adorn the lodges of the sioux, and will again received approval for his quick and timely attack with fire. xingudan knew in his heart that the village might have been overpowered and devoured had it not been for the wit and courage of waditaka. but he merely said "waditaka has done well." will, however, knew that the four words meant much and that the liberty of the village was his. he was a sharer of all things save one--that, however, being much--namely, the knowledge of their location, which was kept from him as thoroughly as in the beginning. but for a day or two he did not have much time to think of the question, as the whole village was busily engaged in skinning the slaughtered wolves and dressing the hides. never before had so many been obtained at once by a single indian village, and they secured every one, scraping them carefully and then drying them on high platforms or the boughs of trees. often at night they heard a distant growling and they knew that a few wolves, still hiding in the valley, came out at night to devour the bodies of their dead comrades. will, lying between the furs in the strong lodge, would hear sometimes the sound of these faint growls, but they troubled him not at all. he would draw the buffalo robes more closely about him, as the child in the farmhouse pulls up the covers when he hears the patter of rain on the roof, and feels an immense sense of comfort. the compulsion of the life he was leading was fast sending him back to the primitive. he would have read had there been anything to read, but, despite the limited world of the valley in which he now lived, his daily activities were very great. there was the pony herd, of which he was the chief guardian. food must be found for it, though the hardy animals could and did do a great deal for themselves under the most adverse conditions. they ate twigs, they dug under the snow with their sharp hoofs for grass that yet lived in sheltered nooks, and will and the indians, by persistent seeking, were able to add to their supplies. they also had to break the ice on the river that they might drink, and, under the severe and continuous cold, the ice was now a foot thick. will also helped with the fishing through holes in the ice, and acquired all the indian skill. the fish formed a most welcome addition to their diet of dried meat and the occasional bread made from indian corn. he helped, too, with the continual strengthening of the lodges, because all the old indians foresaw the fiercest winter in a generation. as will reverted farther and farther into the primitive he retained a virtue which is the product of civilization. he was respectful and helpful to the very old and weak. the percentage of such in the village was much larger than usual, as nearly all the warriors had gone to the war. he invariably took food to the weazened old squaws and the decrepit old men, who presented him with another suit of beautifully decorated deerskin, and a coat of the softest and finest buffalo robe that he had ever seen. "waditaka big favorite," said inmutanka when will showed him the buffalo overcoat. "by and by all old squaws marry him." "what?" exclaimed will in horror. "of course," said inmutanka, grinning slyly. "he make old squaws many presents. leave venison, buffalo meat, bear meat at doors of their lodges. they marry him in the spring." but will caught the twinkle in inmutanka's eyes. "if they propose," he said, "i'll offer good old dr. inmutanka in my place. he's nearer their age, and with his medical skill he'll be able to take care of them." "inmutanka never had a wife. he always what you call in your language bachelor. too late to change now." "but since you've raised this question i'll insist," said will formidably. "you've been a bachelor too long, and you a great medical man too. men are scarce in this village, and you must have at least a dozen wives." "you stop, i stop," said inmutanka in a tone of entreaty. "very good, honored foster-father. it's a closed subject forever. i don't think i'd care to have a dozen stepmothers just now." the cold remained intense. everything was frozen up, but game, nevertheless, still wandered into the valley and the warriors continually hunted it. all their bullets, never in great supply, had been fired away in the battle with the wolves, and they relied now upon bow and arrow. two of the old warriors, attacking a fierce grizzly with these weapons, were slain by it, and though a party led by xingudan, with will as one of his lieutenants, killed the monster, there was mourning in the village for several days. then it ceased abruptly. the dead were the dead. they had gone to the happy hunting grounds, where in time all must go, and it was foolish and unmanly to mourn so long. will did not believe that the primitive retain grief as the civilized do. it was a provision to protect those among whom life was so uncertain. a few days later a warrior of the sioux nation arrived in the valley, suffering from a wound and on the point of death from cold and starvation. he was put in one of the warmest lodges, his wounds were dressed carefully and when he had revived sufficiently he asked for the old chief, xingudan. "i was hurt in battle with the white men many, many days' journey away," he said, "and the great chief heraka, knowing i would not be fit for march and fight for a long time, sent me here to recover and he also sent with me a message for you." "what was the message, roka (badger)?" "it was in regard to the white youth, wayaka, our prisoner." "wayaka has become waditaka, owing to his great bravery. with only a spear he fought and slew a monstrous grizzly bear that would have killed me the next instant. when we drove off the huge pack of giant mountain wolves his service was the greatest." "even so, xingudan. those are brave deeds, but they cannot alter the command i brought from heraka." "what was the command, roka?" "that waditaka be burned to death with slow fire at the stake, and that other tortures of which we know be inflicted upon him. we lost many warriors in battle with the whites and the soul of heraka was bitter." old xingudan leaned his chin on his hand and looked very thoughtfully at the fire that blazed in the centre of the lodge. "the command of heraka is unjust," he said. "i cannot help that, as you know, xingudan." "i do not blame you, but there is something of which heraka is ignorant." "what is it?" "waditaka is now the adopted son of the wise and good inmutanka." "but the orders of heraka are strict and stern." "the rite of adoption is sacred. until waditaka himself chooses to change he is a sioux and must be treated as a sioux." "the consent of heraka was not secured for the adoption." "it was impossible to reach him. the laws of the sioux have not been violated. waditaka is a brave young warrior. the fire shall not touch him. a winter great and terrible is upon us and it may be before it is over that we shall need him much. he is a brave young warrior and few of them are left now in the village. i am old, roka, and the old as they draw near to manitou and all the gods and spirits that people the air, hear many whispers of the future. a voice coming from afar tells low in my ear that before the snow and ice have gone waditaka, who was born white but who is now a sioux, the adopted son of inmutanka, will save us all." "and does xingudan see that?" "yes, roka, i see it." the wounded warrior raised himself on his pallet and a look of awe appeared on his face. "if thou readest the future aright, xingudan," he said, "it would be well to save this lad and brave the anger of heraka, if he be so bold as to defy the law of adoption." "i am old and my bones are old, but even though he is a chief above me i do not fear heraka. waditaka shall not burn. i have said it." "i have but delivered my message, xingudan. now i will sleep, as my wound is sore. i have traveled far and the cold is great." will little knew how his fate had been discussed in the lodge, and how his good humor, his acceptance of conditions and his zeal to help had saved him from a lingering and horrible death. old xingudan, taciturn though he was and severe of manner, was his firm friend and would defend him against heraka, or the great war chief, red cloud, himself. will was not only by formal rite of adoption a sioux, but in the present crisis he was, on the whole, the most valuable young warrior in a village where young warriors were so scarce, owing to the distant war with the whites. "you have delivered your message, roka," said xingudan, finally, "and you have no right to deliver it to anybody but me. therefore your duty is done. do not mention it again while you are with us." "i obey, o xingudan," said roka. "here i am under your command, and now i will exert all my energies to get well of my wound." will, meanwhile, relapsed farther and farther into the primitive, all the conditions of extreme wildness exerting upon him a powerful influence. they no longer had bullets and gunpowder or cartridges, but must fight with bow and arrow, lance and war club. it was necessary, too, to defend themselves, as the tremendous cold was driving into the valley more beasts of prey, ravening with hunger. and yet the primitive state of the youth and those around him was not ignoble. just as the people of a village twenty thousand years before may have been drawn together by common dangers and the needs of mutual help, so were these. the women worked diligently on the wolf skins, making heavier and warmer clothing, the food supply was placed under the dictatorship of xingudan, who saw that nothing was wasted. will, with the superior foresight of the white man's brain, was really at the back of this measure. to the most active and vigorous men was assigned the task of hunting the great wild beasts which now wandered into the valley, driven by cold and fierce, growing hunger. the wolves were but the forerunners. mountain lions of uncommon size and ferocity appeared. an old woman was struck down in the night and devoured, and in broad daylight a child standing at the brink of the river was killed and carried away. then the grizzly bears or other bears, huge beyond any that they had ever seen before, appeared. a group came in the night and attacked the pony herd, slaying and partly devouring at least a dozen. all in the village were awakened by the stamping of the horses and in the bitter cold and darkness the brave children of the wild rushed to the rescue, the women snatching torches and hurrying with them to furnish light by which their men could fight. the battle that ensued was fully as terrible as that with the wolves. the bears, although far fewer than the wolves had been, were the greatest of all the american carnivora, and they resented savagely the attempt to drive them from their food, turning with foaming mouths upon their assailants, who could not meet them now with bullets, but who fought with the weapons of an earlier time. will plied the bow and arrow, and, when the arrows were exhausted, used a long lance. he and xingudan were really the leaders, marshalling their hosts with such skill and effect that they gradually drove the bears away from the ponies, leaving the animals to be quieted by the women and old men, while the warriors fought the bears. among these men was roka, now recovered from his wound, and using a great bow with deadly accuracy. he and will at length drew up side by side, and the stout indian planted an arrow deep in the side of a bear. yet the wound was not fatal, and the animal, first biting at the arrow, then charged. will struck with the lance so fiercely that it entered the animal's heart and, wrenched from his hands, was broken as the great beast fell. "behold!" shouted xingudan in roka's ear, "he has saved your life even as he saved mine!" not one of the bears escaped, but two of the men lost their lives in the terrible combat, and the strength of the village was reduced yet further. the two men, however, had perished nobly and the people felt triumphant. will examined the bears by the numerous torchlights. he and xingudan and inmutanka agreed that they were not the true grizzly of the montana or idaho mountains, but, like the first one, much larger beasts coming out of the far north. will judged that the largest of them all weighed a full three-quarters of a ton or more, and a most terrific creature he was, with great hooked claws as hard as steel and nearly a foot in length. "one blow of those would destroy the stoutest warrior, waditaka," said xingudan. "our bows and arrows and lances have saved us," said will. "i think they've been driven out of the arctic by the great cold, and have migrated south in search of food." "then they smelled the horses and attacked them." "truly so, xingudan, and they or other wild beasts will come again. the ponies are our weakest point. the great meat-eating animals will always attack them." "but we must keep our ponies, waditaka. we will need them in the spring to hunt the buffalo." "of course, xingudan, we must save the ponies." "how, o waditaka?" the youth felt a thrill. the chief was appealing to him to show the way and he felt that he must do it. he had already the germ of an idea. "i think i shall have a plan tomorrow, o xingudan," he said. when will departed for their lodge with inmutanka, xingudan said to roka: "what think you now, roka, of waditaka, once wayaka, a captive youth, but now waditaka, the brave young sioux warrior, the adopted son of inmutanka, who is the greatest curer of sickness among us?" "he was as brave as any, as well as the most skillful of all those who fought against the great beasts," replied roka, "and you spoke truly, xingudan, when you said the village needed him. i make no demand that the command of heraka be carried out. but can we keep him, xingudan? will he not go back to his own people when the chance comes?" "that i know not, roka, but it will be many a day before he has a chance to return to them. the distance is great, as you know, and we concealed from him the way we came. the knowledge of the region in which this village stands is hidden from him." will's idea, as he had promised, was developed the next day. the corral for the ponies, with one side of it against the overhanging cliff, was strengthened greatly with stakes and brush, and at night fires were lighted all about it, tended by relays. he knew that wild beasts dreaded nothing so much as fire, and if any of them appeared the guards were to beat the alarm on the war drum. there were enough people in the village to make it easy for the watchers, and the fires would keep them warm. xingudan expressed his full approval of the plan, and the watch was set that very night, will, at his own request, being put in charge of it. heavily wrapped in his buffalo coat over his deerskin suit, with two pairs of moccasins on his feet, a fur cap on his head and thick ear muffs, he walked from fire to fire and saw that they were well fed. there was no need to spare the wood, the valley having a great supply of timber. his assistants were small boys, old men and old women. the intelligence, activity and strength of these ancient squaws always surprised william. they were terribly weazened and withered, and far from beautiful to look upon, but once having arrived at that condition they seemed able to live forever, and to take a healthy interest in life as they went along. owing to the lack of men in the village their importance had increased also, and they liked it. under will's eye they worked with remarkable zeal, and a band of living light surrounded the entire corral. other lights blazed at points about the village, as they intended to make everything safe. will was chief of the watch, until about three o'clock in the morning. often he went among the ponies and soothed them with voice and touch, for they were generally restless. out of the darkness, well beyond the light of the flames, came growls and the noises of fierce combat. they had skinned all the bears, and also had taken away all the eatable portions of their bodies, but other beasts had come for what was left. the indians distinguished the voices of bear, mountain lion and wolf. from the slopes also came fierce whines, and the old squaws, shuddering, built the fires yet higher. "son of inmutanka," said xingudan at last to will, "go to your lodge and sleep. you have proved anew that you are a man and worthy to belong to the great dakota nation. the fires will be kept burning all through the night and see you, inmutanka, that no one awakens him. let his sleep go of its own accord to its full measure." a year earlier will would have been so much excited that sleep would have been impossible to him, but the primitive life he was leading had hardened all his nerves so thoroughly that he slumbered at once between the buffalo robes. old inmutanka did not awaken him when the dawn came, although most of the people were already at work, curing the meat of the bears and scraping and drying the huge hides. they were also putting more brush and stakes around the great corral for the ponies, and many were already saying it was waditaka who had saved their horses for them the night before. but the day had all the intense cold of extreme winter in the great mountains of north america. the mercury was a full forty degrees below zero, and the indians who worked with the spoils had only chin, eyes and mouth exposed. among them came old inmutanka, very erect and strong despite his years, and full of honest pride. he thumped himself twice upon the chest, and then said in a loud, clear voice: "does anyone here wish to question the merit of my son, waditaka? is he not as brave as the bravest, and does he not think further ahead than any other warrior in the village?" then up spoke old xingudan and he was sincere. "your words are as true as if they had been spoken by manitou himself," he said. "the youth, waditaka, the son of inmutanka, was the greatest warrior of us all when the bears came, and his deeds stand first." then up spoke the messenger, roka, also. "it is true," he said. "i witnessed with my own eyes the great deeds of waditaka. our chief, xingudan, must be proud to have such a brave and wise young warrior in his village." the two talked later on about the matter and roka fully agreed with xingudan that the command of heraka should be disregarded. red cloud, the great mahpeyalute, would support them in it and, in any event, it was quite sure that the village itself would not allow it. will did not awake until the afternoon, and then he yawned and stretched himself a minute or two between the warm covers before he opened his eyes. he saw a low fire of big coals burning in the centre of the lodge, neutralizing the intensely cold air that came in where the door of the lodge was left open for a foot or more. he surmised from the angle of the sun's rays that the day was far advanced. pemmican, strips of venison and some corn cakes lay by the edge of the fire and he knew that good old inmutanka had left them there for him. he began to feel hungry. he would rise in a few minutes and warm the bread and meat by the fire, but he first listened to a chant that came from the outside, low at first, though swelling gradually. his attention was specially attracted, because he caught the sound of his own name in a recurring note. at length he made out the song, something like this: lo, in the night the great bears came our horses they would crush and devour. mighty were they in their size and strength and hunger fierce and terrible drove them on. bullets we had none, only the edge of steel and bone, but the fires of waditaka filled their souls with fear, waditaka, the wise, the brave son of inmutanka, without him our herd would have been lost, and we, too. waditaka, the valiant and wise, showed us the way. young, but his arrow sings true, his lance strikes deep, waditaka, the thoughtful, the bold, the son of inmutanka, proud we are that he belongs to us and fights for us. young clarke lay back between the buffalo covers. the song, crude though it was, and without rhyme or metre in the indian fashion, gave him a strange and deep thrill. it was in just such manner that the greeks chanted the praises of some hero who had saved them from great disaster, or who had done a mighty deed against dragons. from his early reading came visions of hercules and theseus, of perseus and bellerophon. but he did not put himself with such champions. he was merely serving a primitive little village, carried by its primitive state farther back than that world in which the more or less legendary greek heroes lived. but it was pleasant, wonderfully pleasant, to hear the chant. this was his world and to know, for a time at least, that he was first among the people, was very grateful to young ears. listening a while he rose, dressed, warmed his food, and ate it with the appetite of a young lion. chapter xiv the dreadful night when will came out of the lodge he witnessed such a scene as one might have looked upon ten thousand years ago. the cold was bitter, but there were many fires. vast icicles hung from the slopes of the mountains, glittering in the sun like gigantic spears. the trees were sheathed in ice, and, when the wind shook the boughs, pieces fell like silver mail. it was an icy world, narrow and enclosed, but it was a cheerful world just the same. the squaws were pounding the bear meat, much as the white housewife would pound a steak, but with more vigor. grizzly or any other kind of big bear was exceedingly tough, even after treatment, but, in the last resort, the indians would eat it, and, despite their great stores of ordinary food, xingudan feared they would not last through the long and bitter winter now promised. the huge skins which had all the quality of fur were welcome. will believed the bears were not grizzlies, and later, when he heard of the mighty alaskan bears, he was sure of it. great portions of the animals could not be used, and, as xingudan knew that the odor would draw the fierce carnivora at night, he ordered it all carried to a point far up the valley and dumped there. then the night was filled with howlings as the big wolves came down again and fought and ate. will listened with many a shudder as, heavily clothed and armed, he helped to keep the guard about the village and the corral, and, as he listened, he reverted by another great stage back into the primitive. he was with his friends, those who had fought beside him, those who cared for him, and those who looked upon him as a leader. for the present, at least, he was content. his hours were full of useful labor, of excitement, and of rewards. he knew that another of the great bearskins would be placed in the lodge that belonged to himself and inmutanka, and that the best of the food would always be theirs if they were willing to take it. the most difficult of their tasks was to procure enough food for the ponies, and they were continually turning up the snow in secluded alcoves in search of it. once the weather moderated considerably for a week, and the snow melting in vast volume freshened all the grass and foliage. heavy and continuous rains for several days renewed much vegetation, apparently dead in this secluded valley, and the ponies, which were permitted to graze freely in the course of the day, although they were driven back to the corral at night, regained much of their lost flesh. the indians also used this interval to gather and store much forage for them. with the cessation of the rain however, the fierce cold returned. everything froze up tight and fast again, and once more at night they heard the fierce howlings of the wild beasts. the fires around the corral were renewed and were never permitted to die, and it was necessary also to keep them burning continually about the village. a wolf stole in between the lodges, killed and carried off a little child. he was trailed by will, roka, now his fast friend, and a young warrior named pehansan, the crane, because of his extreme height and thinness. but pehansan's figure, despite its slenderness, was so tough that he seemed able to endure anything, and on this expedition he was the leader. they tracked the wolf up the mountain side, slew it with arrows and recovered the body of the child, to which they gave proper burial, thus making sure of the immortality of its soul. the danger from the wild beasts remained. it was the theory of the old and wise xingudan that the pony herd drew them. the fierce winter made the hunting bad, but the word had been passed on by wolves, mountain lions and bears that a certain valley was filled with fine, toothsome horses, little able to protect themselves, and all of the fierce meat-eaters were coming to claim their share. "we shall have to fight them until the spring," said the wise old chief, "and since we have neither cartridges nor powder and lead, we must make hundreds and hundreds of arrows." this was hard and tedious labor, but nearly all in the village, who were able, devoted most of their time to it. they used various kinds of wood, scraping the shafts until they were perfectly round, and making on every one three fine grooves which kept them from warping. the arrows were of two different kinds, those for hunting and those for war. the barb of the war arrow was short, and it was not fastened very tightly to the shaft. when it struck the enemy, it would become detached and remain in the wound, while the shaft fell away. a cruel device, but not worse than has since been shown by highly civilized people in a universal war. the head of the hunting arrow was longer, more tapering and it was fastened securely. the people of the village made these in much greater numbers than the war arrows, as they certainly expected no fighting with men before the spring, and then they would procure ammunition for their rifles. the sioux were not good marksmen at long range, but they shot their arrows with amazing swiftness. will noted that a man holding a dozen arrows in his left hand could fire them all in as many seconds, and they could be discharged with such power that at very close range one would pass entirely through the body of a buffalo. while will did not learn to shoot the arrows as fast as the indians, he was soon a better marksman at long range than anybody else in the village. then xingudan gave him the most beautiful bow he had ever seen. it was made of pieces of elkhorn that had been wrapped minutely and as tightly as possible with the fresh intestines of a deer. when the intestines dried the bow became to all purposes a single piece of powerful horn, yet with the flexibility and elasticity that one horn did not have. it was unbreakable, it did not suffer from weather, and it had among the sioux the same value that a jewel of great price has among white people. will knew that old xingudan considered it a full equivalent for his repeating rifle, revolver and field glasses that the old chief kept in his lodge. will and the crane, otherwise pehansan, formed a warm friendship, and he found a similar friend in roka, the stalwart warrior who had come with the order for his death by torture. soon after he received the gift of the great bow the three decided on a hunting expedition toward the upper end of the valley, all traveling on snowshoes. "beware of the wild beasts, my son," said inmutanka. "we have heard nothing of them for a week past," said will. "the greater reason to expect them, because the word has been sent over a thousand miles of snow fields that we are here to be eaten. i know you are brave, watchful and quick, but take many arrows and see that roka and pehansan do the same." will was gay and light of heart, but he obeyed the injunction of inmutanka and filled the quiver. he saw that roka and pehansan had an abundance, also, and the three, wrapped in furs, departed on their snowshoes. the indians had not gone much toward the upper end of the valley. the slopes were less precipitous there and the forest heavier, giving better hiding for the great wild beasts, and hence making them much more dangerous. but with his magnificent new bow on his shoulder and his stout comrades beside him will was not afraid. the cold was less intense than it had been for some time and the exercise of walking with the snowshoes gave them plenty of warmth. the snow itself, which had now begun to soften at the surface, lay to a depth of about three feet, hiding the river save where the indians had cut holes through ice and snow to capture fish. pehansan, an inveterate hunter who would willingly have passed a thousand years of good life in such pursuits, had an idea that elk might be found in some of the secluded alcoves to the north. his mind was full of such thoughts, but will, exhilarated by motion, was looking at the mountain tops which, like vast white pillars, were supporting a sky of glittering blue. he swept his hand in a wide gesture. "it's a fit place up there for manitou to live," he said. "beyond the blue the hunting grounds go on forever," said pehansan. "i can understand and appreciate your belief," said will in his enthusiasm. "think of it, pehansan, to be strong and young forever and forever; never to know wounds or weariness; to hunt the game over thousands and tens of thousands of miles; to find buffaloes and bears and elk and moose twice, yes, three times as big as any here on earth; to discover and cross rivers and lakes and seas and always to come back safe! to sleep well every night and to wake every morning as keen for the chase as ever! to have your friends with you always, and to strive with them in the hunt in generous emulation! aye, pehansan, that would be the life!" "some day i shall find the life of which you speak so well, waditaka! a happy death on the battlefield and lo! i have it!" "think you that the snow is now too soft to bear the weight of the wolves?" asked roka, breaking into plain prose. "not yet," replied pehansan, the mighty hunter, "but it may be soon. hark to their howling on the slopes among the dwarf trees!" will heard a long, weird moaning sound, but he only laughed. it was the voice of the great wolves, but they and the bears had been defeated so often that he did not fear them. he swung the magnificent bow jauntily and was more than willing to put it to deadly use. as the bird flies, the valley might have had a length of twenty miles, but following its curves it was nearer forty, and as the three had no reason for haste they took their time, traveling over the river bed, because it was free from obstruction. at noon they ate pemmican, and, after a rest of a half hour, pushed on again. the valley at this point was not more than two miles wide, and pehansan had his eyes set on a deep gorge to the left, where the cedars and pines sheltered from the winds seemed to have grown to an uncommon size. "may find elk in here, where snow is not deep. best place to look. don't you think?" he said. "i agree with you," replied will. "pehansan speaks well," said roka. then they left the river bed and, bearing away toward the west, approached the gorge which will could now see was very deep, and with a comparatively easy slope. he had an idea that many of the great carnivora came into the valley by this road, but he did not speak of it to the other two. about an hour after noon they came to the edge of the forest and pehansan, searching in the snow, found large tracks which were evidently those of hoofs. "elk?" said will, "and a big one, too, i suppose." "no," replied pehansan, "not elk. something bigger." "what can it be? moose, then?" "no, not moose. bigger still!" "i give it up. what is it?" "a mountain buffalo, a bigger beast than those we find in the great herds on the plains, which you know, waditaka, are very big, too." "then this giant is ours. he has come in here for food and shelter, and we ought not to have much trouble in finding him. lead on, pehansan, and i'll get a chance to use this grand bow sooner than i had thought." the tracks were deep sunken in the snow, but he was not yet expert enough to tell their probable age. "how old would you say they are, pehansan?" he asked. "made to-day," replied the indian, bending his glowing eyes upon the trail. "two, three hour ago. he not far away." "then he's ours. a big mountain buffalo fresh on the hoof will be welcome in the village." "be careful about the snowshoes," said roka. "the buffalo will be among the trees and bushes and when we wound him he will charge. the snowshoes must not become entangled." will knew that it was excellent advice and he resolved to be exceedingly cautious. he could walk well on the snowshoes though he was not as expert as the indians, but he held himself steady and made no noise among the bushes as they advanced, pehansan leading, with roka next. "very near now," whispered pehansan, looking at the deep tracks, his eyes still glowing. it was a great triumph to kill a mountain buffalo, above all at such a time, and it was he, pehansan, who led the way. if the other two shared in the triumph so much the better. there was no jealous streak in the crane. pehansan knew also that the quest was not without danger. wounded, the buffalo could become very dangerous and on snowshoes, among the thick bushes, it would be difficult for the hunters to evade the crashing charges of that mighty beast. he came to a wide and deep depression in the snow. "he lie down here and rest a while," he said. "just beyond he dig in the snow for bunches of the sweet grass that grow here in summer and that keep alive under the snow." "then he is not a half hour away," said roka. "not more than that," said pehansan. "we barely creep now." will began to feel excitement. he had killed big buffaloes before, but then he had his repeating rifle, now he was to meet a monster of the mountains only with the bow and arrow. even in that moment he remembered that man did not always have the bow and arrow. his primitive ancestors were compelled to face not only buffaloes but the fierce carnivora with the stone axe and nothing more. the great trail rapidly grew fresher. among the pines and cedars, the snow was not more than a foot deep and the three hunters had much difficulty in making their way noiselessly where the brush was so dense. but the footprints were monstrous. the great hoofs had crushed down through the snow, and had even bitten into the earth. will had a curious idea that it might not be a mountain buffalo, large as they grew, but some primordial beast, a survivor of a prehistoric time, a mammoth or mastodon, the pictures of which he recalled in his youthful geography. if america itself had so long passed unknown to the white man, why could not these vast animals also be still living, hidden in the secluded valleys of the great northwest? pehansan paused and turned upon the other two eyes that glowed from internal fires. he, too, had been impressed by the enormous size of the hoof prints, the largest that he had ever seen, but there was no fear, nor even apprehension in his valiant soul. "it is the king of them all," he said. "pteha (the buffalo) in these mountains has grown to twice the usual size, and attacked by cold and hunger he has the temper of the grizzly bear. he is but a little distance away, and we need rifles to go against him, but we do not turn back! do we, roka? do we, waditaka?" "we do not," whispered roka. "not thinking of such a thing," whispered will. they pushed their way farther, crossed a small ravine and, resting a moment or two on the other side, heard a puffing, a low sound but of great volume. "pteha," whispered pehansan. "among the cedars, scarce fifty yards away," said roka. "now suppose we separate and approach from three points. it will give us a better chance to plant our arrows in him, and he cannot charge more than one at a time." "good tactics, roka," whispered will. roka, as the oldest, took the center, pehansan turned to the right and will to the left. the white youth held his great elkhorn bow ready and the quiver of arrows was over his shoulder, but, after the sioux fashion, he carried five or six also in his left hand that he might fire them as quickly as one pulls the trigger of a repeating rifle. the figures of roka and pehansan were hidden from him almost instantly by the bushes and he went forward slowly, picking his dangerous way on the snowshoes, his heart beating hard. he still had the feeling that he was creeping upon a mammoth or mastodon, and the low puffing and blowing increased in volume, indicating very clearly that it came from mighty lungs. the feeling that he had been thrown back into a distant past grew upon will. he was in the deep snow, armed only with bow and arrows, around him were the huge, frozen mountains, desolate and awful in their majesty, and before him, only a few yards away, was the great beast, the puffings and blowings of which filled his ears. he fingered the elkhorn bow and then recalled his steadiness and courage. a few steps farther and he caught a glimpse of a vast hairy back. evidently the animal was lying down and it would give the hunters an advantage, as they could fire at least one arrow apiece before it rose to its feet. another long, sliding step on the snowshoes and he saw more clearly the beast, on its side in a great hollow it had made for itself in the snow. but as he looked the huge bull lurched upward and charged toward the right, from which point pehansan was coming. evidently a shift of the wind had brought it the odor of the crane, and it attacked at once with all the ferocity of a mad elephant. will had a clear view of a vast body, great humped shoulders, and sharp, crooked horns. but now that the danger had come his pulses ceased to leap and hand and heart were steady. the arrow sang from the bow and buried itself deep in the great bull's neck. another and another followed until a full dozen were gone, every one sunk to the feather in the animal's body. roka and pehansan were firing at the same time, sending in arrows with powerful arms and at such close range that not one missed. they stood out all over his body and he streamed with blood. but the bull did not fall. no arrow had yet touched a vital spot. bellowing with pain and rage, he whirled, and catching sight of will, who was only a few yards away, charged. pehansan and roka uttered warning shouts, and the youth, who in his enthusiasm had gone too near, made a convulsive leap to one side. had he been on hard ground and in his moccasins he might easily have escaped that maddened rush, but the long and delicate snowshoes caught in a bush, and he fell at full length on his side. then it was the very completeness of his fall that saved him. the infuriated beast charged directly over him, trampling on the point of one snowshoe and breaking it, but missing the foot. will was conscious of a huge black shape passing above him and of blood dripping down on his body, but he was not hurt and he remembered to cling to his bow. the raging bull, feeling that he had missed his prey, turned and was about to charge again. will would not have been missed by him a second time. the youth would have been cut to pieces as he struggled for his balance, but pehansan did a deed worthy of the bravest of the brave. far more agile on the snowshoes than will, he thrust himself in front of the animal, waved his bow and shouted to attract his attention. the bull, uttering a mighty bellow, charged, but the brave crane half leaped, half glided aside, and his arrows thudded in the great rough neck as the beast rushed by. when the monster turned again, will, although he was compelled to lean against a bush for support, had drawn a fresh sheaf of arrows from the quiver, and he sent them home in a stream. roka from another point was doing the same and pehansan from a third place was discharging a volley. the great beast, encircled by stinging death, threw up his head, uttered a tremendous bellow of agony and despair and crashed to the earth, where he breathed out his life. will, trembling from his exertions and limping from the broken snowshoe approached cautiously, still viewing that huge, hairy form with wonder and some apprehension. nor were roka and pehansan free from the same nervous strain and awe. "what is it?" asked will, "a mammoth or a mastodon?" "don't know mammoth and don't know mastodon," replied pehansan, shaking his head, "but do know it is the biggest of all animals my eyes have ever seen." "it is a woods or mountain buffalo that has far outgrown its kind, just as there are giants among men," said roka. "if this were a man and he bore the same relation to his species he would be thirteen or fourteen feet tall," said will, his voice still shaking a little. "why, he'd make most elephants ashamed to be so puny and small." "he, too, like the bears, came out of the far north," said pehansan. "maybe there is not another in the world like him." "that hide of his is thick with arrows," said will, "but in so big a skin i don't think the arrow holes will amount to much. we ought to have it. we must carry so grand a trophy back to the village to-night." roka shook his head. "not to-night," he said. "we three be strong, but we cannot move the body of this mighty beast, and so we cannot take off the skin." "i will go to the village and bring many people," said pehansan. again the wise roka shook his head. "no," he said, "we three will stay by the bull. you are fast on your snowshoes, pehansan, and you can shoot your arrows swift, hard and true, but you would never reach the village, which is many miles from here. the fierce wild animals would devour you. we must clear the snow away as fast as we can and build fires all about us. the beasts have already scented the dead bull, and will come to eat him and us." the shadows of the twilight were falling already, and they heard the faint howls of the meat-eaters on the slopes. will and his comrades, taking off their snowshoes, worked with frantic energy, clearing away the snow with their mittened hands, bringing vast quantities of the dead wood, lighting several fires in a circle about the bull, and keeping themselves, with the surplus wood, inside the circle. then, while will fed the fires, roka and pehansan carefully cut the arrows out of the body. "we may need them all before morning," said roka. "it is so, if the growling be a true sign," said pehansan. the two warriors partly skinned the body and cut off great chunks of meat, which they broiled over the fires, and all three ate. meanwhile, will, bow and arrows ready, watched the bushes beyond the circle of flame. if his situation had been nearly primitive in the day it was wholly primitive at night. the mighty bull buffalo was to him truly a mammoth, and beyond the circle of fire, which they dreaded most of all things, the fierce carnivora were waiting to devour the hunters and their giant prize alike. when a pair of green eyes came unusually near will fired an arrow at a point midway between them, and a terrific howling and shrieking followed. "it was one of the great wolves, i think," said roka, "and your arrow sped true. the others are devouring him now. listen, you can hear his big bones cracking!" will shuddered and threw more wood on the fires. what a blessed thing fire was! it saved them from the freezing night and it saved them from the teeth of the wild beasts, which he knew were gathering in a great circle, mad with hunger. the flames leaped higher, and he caught glimpses of dusky figures hovering among the bushes, wolves, bears and he knew not what, because imagination was very lively within him then and he had traveled back to a primordial time. the night became very dark and the snow hardened again under the cold that came with it. will, crouched by one of the fires with his bow and arrows ever ready in his hands, heard the sounds of heavy bodies, either sinking into the snow or crushing their way through it. the wind rose and cut like a knife. despite his heavy buffalo robe overcoat he moved a little closer to the fire, and pehansan and roka almost unconsciously did the same. they were all sitting, and the great body of the slain bull towered above them. the sound of the wind, as it swept through the gorges, was ferocious like the growling of the beasts with which it mingled. "the spirits of evil are abroad to-night," said roka. "the air is full of them and they rush to destroy us, but manitou has given us the fire with which to defend us." a long yell like that of a cat, but many times louder, came from a point beyond and above them, where a tree of good size grew about fifty yards away. roka seized a piece of burning wood and held it aloft. "it's a monstrous mountain lion stretched along a bough," he said. "look closely, waditaka, and you will see. at a long distance you are the best bowman of us all. can you not reach him with an arrow from your great elkhorn bow?" "i think so," replied will, concentrating his gaze until he could make out clearly the outlines of the giant cat. "he's a monster of his kind. all the animals in this region seem to be about twice the size of ordinary types." "but if the arrow touches the heart the big as well as the little will fall." "true, roka, and while you hold that torch aloft i can mark the spot on his yellowish hide beneath which his heart lies. steady, now, don't let the light waver and i think i can reach the place." he fitted the arrow to the string, bent the great bow and let fly. the arrow sang a moment through the air, and then it stood out, buried to the feathers in the body of the lion. the wounded beast uttered a scream so fierce that all three shuddered and drew a little closer together, and then launched itself through the air like a projectile. it struck in the snow somewhere, disappeared from their sight, and they heard terrible sounds of growling and fighting. "your arrow went straight to its heart," said roka. "the spring was its last convulsion of the muscles and now the other beasts are fighting over its body as they eat it." "i don't care how soon this night is over," said will. "all the meat-eating wild beasts in the mountains must be gathering about us." "it is not a time for sleep," said roka gravely. "while manitou has given us the fire to serve as a wall around us, he tells us also that we must watch every minute of the night with the bows and arrows always in our hands, or we die." "aye," said pehansan, "there is one that comes too near now!" he sent an arrow slithering at a bulky figure dimly outlined not more than ten yards away. at so short a distance a sioux could shoot an arrow with tremendous force, and there followed at once a roar of pain, a rush of heavy feet, and a wild threshing among the bushes. "i know not what beast it was," said pehansan proudly, "but like the other it will soon find a grave in the stomachs of the great wolves." they did not see any more figures for an hour or two, but a dreadful howling came from the great beasts, from every point in the complete circle about them. the three watched closely, eager to speed more arrows, but evidently the carnivora had taken temporary alarm and would not come too near lest the flying death reach them again. roka cut fresh pieces from the buffalo and roasted them over one of the fires. "eat," he said to his comrades. "it is as wearing to watch and wait as it is to march and fight. eat, even if you are not hungry, that your strength may be preserved." will, who at any other time would have found the meat of the bull too tough before pounding, ate, and he ate, too, with an appetite, roka and pehansan joining with vigor. the odor of the cooking steak penetrated the darkness about them and they heard the fierce growling of bears and the screaming of great cats. will was growing so much used to these terrible noises, he felt so much confidence in their ring of fire that he laughed, and his laugh had a light trace of mockery. "wouldn't they be glad to get at us?" he said, "and wouldn't they like to sink their teeth in the giant bull here? why, there's enough of him to feed a whole gang of 'em!" "but he'll feed our people down in the village," said pehansan, who was also in good spirits. "still the wild beasts are coming nearer. it is great luck that we have so much wood for the fires." he and will built the fires higher, while roka sent two or three arrows at the green or yellow eyes in the dark. the roars or fierce yells showed that he had hit, and they heard the sound of heavy bodies being threshed about in the dusk. "we are not eaten but some of our enemies are," said will. "it would be a good plan, wouldn't it, to slay them whenever we can in order that they may be food for one another?" "it is wisely spoken," said roka. "we will shoot whenever we see a target, but we will never neglect the fires because they are more important even than the arrows." all through that dark, primordial night, in which they were carried back, in effect, at least ten thousand years, they never relaxed the watch for a moment. now and then they sent arrows into the dusk, sometimes missing and sometimes hitting, and the growling of the bears and wolves and the screaming of the great cats was almost continuous. the darkness seemed eternal, but at length, with infinite joy, they saw the first pale streak of dawn over the eastern mountains. "now the fierce animals will withdraw farther into the forest," said roka. "beyond the reach of our arrows they will be, but they will not depart wholly." "someone must go to the village for help," said will, "help not only for us, but to take away two or three tons of this good meat. why, the bull looks even bigger this morning than he did last night. one of my snowshoes is broken, but, if pehansan will lend me his, i'll make the trip." "you will not," said roka. "despite your skill with the bow and arrow you would be devoured before you had gone a mile. the fierce beasts would be in waiting for you and you would no longer have a ring of fire to protect you." "then what are we to do, roka? we can't stay here forever within the ring of fire, living on steaks cut from the bull." "waditaka has become a great young warrior and he thinks much. few as young as he is think as much as he does." "i don't grasp your meaning, roka." "perhaps it would be better to say that no one thinks of everything." "i'm still astray." "we'll call the people of the village to us." "if you had the voice of old stentor himself, of whom you never heard, you couldn't reach the village, which you know is more than twenty miles away." "we will not call with our voices, waditaka. behold how clear the morning comes! it is the light of bright winter and there is no light brighter. the sun is rising over the mountains in a circle of burning gold and all the heavens are filled with its rays." "you're a poet, roka. the spell has fallen upon you." "against the shining blaze of the sky the smallest object will show, and a large object will be seen at a vast distance. bring our blankets, pehansan, and we will spread them over the little fire here." will laughed at himself. "the smoke signals!" he exclaimed. "how simple the plan and how foolish i was not to think of it!" "as i told you," said roka, "one young warrior, no matter how wise, cannot think of everything. we will talk not with our mouths but with the blankets." in this case the signals were quite simple. pehansan passed the blanket twice rapidly over the fire, allowing two great coils of smoke to ascend high in the air, and then dissipate themselves there. after five minutes he sent up the two smoky circles again. the signal meant "come." "we will soon see the answer," said roka, "because they are anxious about us and will be looking for a sign." all three gazed in the direction of the village, the only point from which the reply could be sent, and presently a circle of smoke, then two, then three, rose there. pehansan, in order to be sure, sent up the two circles again, and the three promptly replied. "it is enough," said roka joyfully. "now they will come in great force on their snowshoes, and we will be saved with our huge prize." they waited in the utmost confidence and at times pehansan sent up the two rings again to guide the relief band. but the people from the village had a long distance to travel, and it was noon when they saw the dark figures among the undergrowth and hailed them with joyous cries. at least thirty had come, a few young warriors--there were few in the village--but mostly old men, and the dauntless, wiry old squaws. they exclaimed in wonder and admiration over the mighty beast the three had killed, and among the bushes about the campfire they found great skeletons, all eaten clean by the huge mountain wolves. "truly you were saved by fire," said old xingudan, who had himself headed the relieving party. with so many to lift and pull they were able to remove the entire robe from the giant buffalo, the finest skin that many of them had ever seen. it was so vast that it was a cause of great wonder and admiration. "it belongs," said xingudan, "to waditaka, pehansan and roka, the three brave warriors who slew the buffalo." "the three live in different lodges and they will have to pass it one to another for use," said inmutanka. will glanced at roka, who understood him, and then he glanced at pehansan, who also understood him. "it is the wish of the three of us," said the youth, "that this great skin be accepted by the brave and wise xingudan, whose knowledge and skill have kept the village unhurt and happy under conditions that might well have overcome any man." a look of gratification, swift but deep, passed over the face of xingudan, but he declined the magnificent offer. nevertheless the three insisted, and old inmutanka observed wisely that the skin should go only in the lodge of the head chief. at last xingudan accepted, and will, although he had not made the offer for that purpose, had a friend for life. the band began to cut up the vast body, which, when the flesh was well pounded and softened by the squaws, would alone feed the village for quite a period. the task could not be finished that day, but they built such a ring of great fires for the night that the fierce carnivora did not dare to come near. the next day they reached the village with the great bull, carried in many sections. will's nerves had been attuned so highly during the terrible siege that he collapsed to a certain extent after his return to the village, but he suffered no loss of prestige because of it, as everybody believed that he and his comrades had been besieged by evil spirits, and pehansan and roka as well were compelled to take a long rest. he remained in the lodge a whole day, and inmutanka brought him the tenderest of food and the juices of medicinal herbs to drink, telling him it was said on every side that the prophecy had come true, and his craft and skill had saved the village in the terrible winter. the second day he was in the village, where the women and old men were pounding and drying the flesh of the buffalo, but only the most skilful were permitted to scrape the vast skin, which, when it was finally cured, would make such an ornament as was never before seen in the lodge of a sioux chief. but will, pehansan and roka were not allowed to have a share in any work for a long time. they were three heroes who had fought with demons and who had triumphed, and for a space they were looked upon as demi-gods. nevertheless, they had their full share in the hunt. the wise old xingudan, backed by the equally wise old inmutanka, forbade any expeditions far from the village unless they were made in great force, and their judgment was soon proved by the fact that many bears, wolves and mountain lions of the greatest size were slain. numerous fires, however, made the region immediately about the lodges safe, and as the river flowed almost at their feet the women could break the thick ice and catch fish, without fear of the wild beasts. it was during this interval that will began to think again very much of the faithful white friends whom he had lost, the redoubtable scout, the whistling and cheerful little giant, and the brave and serious brady. heraka had told him that they were dead, but he could not believe it. he began to feel that he would see them again, and that they would renew the great quest. he had preserved the map with care, but he had not looked at it for a long time. yet he remembered the lines upon it as well as ever. as he had reflected before, if it were destroyed, he could easily reproduce it from memory. then his three lost friends became vague again. the months that had passed since his capture seemed years, and he was so far away from all the paths of civilization that it was like being on another planet. he had never yet learned exactly where he was, but he knew it must be in the high mountains of the far north, and therefore toward the pacific coast. then all these memories and mental questions faded, as the life of the village became absorbing again. frightened herds of elk and moose, evidently chased by the great carnivora or in search of food, came into the valley and the indians killed as many as they needed. they might have killed more, but xingudan forbade them. "let them take shelter here," he said, "and grow more numerous. it is not to the interest of our people that the big deer should decrease in numbers, and if we are wise we will let live that which we do not need to eat." they saw the wisdom of xingudan's words and obeyed him. perhaps there was not another indian village in all north america which had greater plenty than xingudan's in that winter, so long and terrible, in the northern mountains. big game was abundant, and fish could always be obtained through holes in the thick ice that invariably covered the river. their greatest difficulty was in keeping the horses, but they met the emergency. not only did the horses dig under the snow with their sharp feet, but the indians themselves, with will at their head, uncovered or brought much forage for them. will understood why such sedulous care was bestowed upon the ponies, which could be of little use among the great mountains. when spring was fully come they would go eastward out of the mountains, and upon the vast plains, where they would hunt the buffalo. then he must escape. although he was an adopted sioux, the son of inmutanka, and had adapted himself to the life of the village, where he was not unhappy, he felt at times the call of his own people. the call was especially strong when he was alone in the lodge, and the snow was driving heavily outside. then the faces of the scout, the little giant and the beaver hunter appeared very clearly before him. his place was with them, if they were still alive, and in the spring, when the doors of ice that closed the valley were opened, he would go, if he could. but the spring was long in coming. xingudan himself could not recall when it had ever before been so late. but come at last it did, with mighty rains, the sliding of avalanches, the breaking up of the ice, floods in the river and countless torrents. when the waters subsided and the slopes were clear of snow xingudan talked of moving. the lodges were struck and the whole village passed out of the valley. the tall youth, dressed like the others and almost as brown as they, who had been known among white people as will clarke, but whom the indians called waditaka, wondered what the spring was going to bring to him, and he awaited the future with intense curiosity and eagerness. +-------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the | | original document have been preserved. | | | | typographical errors corrected in the text: | | | | page hutner changed to hunter | | page commisariat changed to commissariat | | page wondered changed to wandered | | page double-barrelled changed to double-barreled | | page which added after "weapon with" | | page wll changed to will | | page pahansan changed to pehansan | +-------------------------------------------------------+ note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) bob hampton of placer by randall parrish author of "when wilderness was king," "my lady of the north," "historic illinois," etc. illustrated by arthur i. keller [frontispiece: "i read it in your face," he insisted. "it told of love."] eighth edition chicago a. c. mcclurg & co. copyright a. c. mcclurg & co. entered at stationers' hall, london all rights reserved published, september , second edition october , third edition october , fourth edition november , fifth edition november , sixth edition december , seventh edition january , eighth edition january , contents part i from out the canyon chapter i hampton, of placer ii old gillis's girl iii between life and death iv on the naked plain v a new proposition vi "to be or not to be" vii "i've come here to live" viii a last revolt ix at the occidental part ii what occurred in glencaid i the arrival of miss spencer ii becoming acquainted iii under orders iv silent murphy v in honor of miss spencer vi the lieutenant meets miss spencer vii an unusual girl viii the reappearance of an old friend ix the verge of a quarrel x a slight interruption xi the door opens, and closes again xii the cohorts of judge lynch xiii "she loves me, she loves me not" xiv plucked from the burning xv the door closes xvi the rescue of miss spencer xvii the parting hour part iii on the little big horn i mr. hampton resolves ii the trail of silent murphy iii the haunting of a crime iv the verge of confession v alone with the insane vi on the little big horn vii the fight in the valley viii the old regiment ix the last stand x the curtain falls list of illustrations "i read it in your face," he insisted. "it told of love" . . . . . . _frontispiece_ they advanced slowly, the supported blankets swaying gently to the measured tread "mr. slavin appears to have lost his previous sense of humor," he remarked, calmly together they bore him, now unconscious, slowly down below the first fire-line bob hampton of placer _part i_ from out the canyon chapter i hampton, of placer it was not an uncommon tragedy of the west. if slightest chronicle of it survive, it must be discovered among the musty and nearly forgotten records of the eighteenth regiment of infantry, yet it is extremely probable that even there the details were never written down. sufficient if, following certain names on that long regimental roll, there should be duly entered those cabalistic symbols signifying to the initiated, "killed in action." after all, that tells the story. in those old-time indian days of continuous foray and skirmish such brief returns, concise and unheroic, were commonplace enough. yet the tale is worth telling now, when such days are past and gone. there were sixteen of them when, like so many hunted rabbits, they were first securely trapped among the frowning rocks, and forced relentlessly backward from off the narrow trail until the precipitous canyon walls finally halted their disorganized flight, and from sheer necessity compelled a rally in hopeless battle. sixteen,--ten infantrymen from old fort bethune, under command of syd. wyman, a gray-headed sergeant of thirty years' continuous service in the regulars, two cow-punchers from the "x l" ranch, a stranger who had joined them uninvited at the ford over the bear water, together with old gillis the post-trader, and his silent chit of a girl. sixteen--but that was three days before, and in the meanwhile not a few of those speeding sioux bullets had found softer billet than the limestone rocks. six of the soldiers, four already dead, two dying, lay outstretched in ghastly silence where they fell. "red" watt, of the "x l," would no more ride the range across the sun-kissed prairie, while the stern old sergeant, still grim of jaw but growing dim of eye, bore his right arm in a rudely improvised sling made from a cartridge-belt, and crept about sorely racked with pain, dragging a shattered limb behind him. then the taciturn gillis gave sudden utterance to a sobbing cry, and a burst of red spurted across his white beard as he reeled backward, knocking the girl prostrate when he fell. eight remained, one helpless, one a mere lass of fifteen. it was the morning of the third day. the beginning of the affair had burst upon them so suddenly that no two in that stricken company would have told the same tale. none among them had anticipated trouble; there were no rumors of indian war along the border, while every recognized hostile within the territory had been duly reported as north of the bear water; not the vaguest complaint had drifted into military headquarters for a month or more. in all the fancied security of unquestioned peace these chance travellers had slowly toiled along the steep trail leading toward the foothills, beneath the hot rays of the afternoon sun, their thoughts afar, their steps lagging and careless. gillis and the girl, as well as the two cattle-herders, were on horseback; the remainder soberly trudged forward on foot, with guns slung to their shoulders. wyman was somewhat in advance, walking beside the stranger, the latter a man of uncertain age, smoothly shaven, quietly dressed in garments bespeaking an eastern tailor, a bit grizzled of hair along the temples, and possessing a pair of cool gray eyes. he had introduced himself by the name of hampton, but had volunteered no further information, nor was it customary in that country to question impertinently. the others of the little party straggled along as best suited themselves, all semblance to the ordinary discipline of the service having been abandoned. hampton, through the medium of easy conversation, early discovered in the sergeant an intelligent mind, possessing some knowledge of literature. they had been discussing books with rare enthusiasm, and the former had drawn from the concealment of an inner pocket a diminutive copy of "the merchant of venice," from which he was reading aloud a disputed passage, when the faint trail they followed suddenly dipped into the yawning mouth of a black canyon. it was a narrow, gloomy, contracted gorge, a mere gash between those towering hills shadowing its depths on either hand. a swift mountain stream, noisy and clear as crystal, dashed from rock to rock close beside the more northern wall, while the ill-defined pathway, strewn with bowlders and guarded by underbrush, clung to the opposite side, where low scrub trees partially obscured the view. all was silent as death when they entered. not so much as the flap of a wing or the stir of a leaf roused suspicion, yet they had barely advanced a short hundred paces when those apparently bare rocks in front flamed red, the narrow defile echoed to wild screeches and became instantly crowded with weird, leaping figures. it was like a plunge from heaven into hell. blaine and endicott sank at the first fire; watt, his face picturing startled surprise, reeled from his saddle, clutching at the air, his horse dashing madly forward and dragging him, head downward, among the sharp rocks; while wyman's stricken arm dripped blood. indeed, under that sudden shock, he fell, and was barely rescued by the prompt action of the man beside him. dropping the opened book, and firing madly to left and right with a revolver which appeared to spring into his hand as by magic, the latter coolly dragged the fainting soldier across the more exposed space, until the two found partial security among a mass of loosened rocks littering the base of the precipice. the others who survived that first scorching discharge also raced toward this same shelter, impelled thereto by the unerring instinct of border fighting, and flinging themselves flat behind protecting bowlders, began responding to the hot fire rained upon them. scattered and hurried as these first volleys were, they proved sufficient to check the howling demons in the open. it has never been indian nature to face unprotected the aim of the white men, and those dark figures, which only a moment before thronged the narrow gorge, leaping crazily in the riot of apparent victory, suddenly melted from sight, slinking down into leafy coverts beside the stream or into holes among the rocks, like so many vanishing prairie-dogs. the fierce yelpings died faintly away in distant echoes, while the hideous roar of conflict diminished to the occasional sharp crackling of single rifles. now and then a sinewy brown arm might incautiously project across the gleaming surface of a rock, or a mop of coarse black hair appear above the edge of a gully, either incident resulting in a quick interchange of fire. that was all; yet the experienced frontiersmen knew that eyes as keen as those of any wild animal of the jungle were watching murderously their slightest movement. wyman, now reclining in agony against the base of the overhanging cliff, directed the movements of his little command calmly and with sober military judgment. little by little, under protection of the rifles of the three civilians, the uninjured infantrymen crept cautiously about, rolling loosened bowlders forward into position, until they finally succeeded in thus erecting a rude barricade between them and the enemy. the wounded who could be reached were laboriously drawn back within this improvised shelter, and when the black shadows of the night finally shut down, all remaining alive were once more clustered together, the injured lying moaning and ghastly beneath the overhanging shelf of rock, and the girl, who possessed all the patient stoicism of frontier training, resting in silence, her widely opened eyes on those far-off stars peeping above the brink of the chasm, her head pillowed on old gillis's knee. few details of those long hours of waiting ever came forth from that black canyon of death. many of the men sorely wounded, all wearied, powder-stained, faint with hunger, and parched with thirst, they simply fought out to the bitter ending their desperate struggle against despair. the towering, overhanging wall at their back assured protection from above, but upon the opposite cliff summit, and easily within rifle range, the cunning foe early discovered lodgment, and from that safe vantage-point poured down a merciless fire, causing each man to crouch lower behind his protecting bowlder. no motion could be ventured without its checking bullet, yet hour after hour the besieged held their ground, and with ever-ready rifles left more than one reckless brave dead among the rocks. the longed-for night came dark and early at the bottom of that narrow cleft, while hardly so much as a faint star twinkled in the little slit of sky overhead. the cunning besiegers crept closer through the enshrouding gloom, and taunted their entrapped victims with savage cries and threats of coming torture, but no warrior among them proved sufficiently bold to rush in and slay. why should they? easier, safer far, to rest secure behind their shelters, and wait in patience until the little band had fired its last shot. now they skulked timorously, but then they might walk upright and glut their fiendish lust for blood. twice during that long night volunteers sought vainly to pierce those lines of savage watchers. a long wailing cry of agony from out the thick darkness told the fate of their first messenger, while casey, of the "x l," crept slowly, painfully back, with an indian bullet embedded deep in his shoulder. just before the coming of dawn, hampton, without uttering a word, calmly turned up the collar of his tightly buttoned coat, so as better to conceal the white collar he wore, gripped his revolver between his teeth, and crept like some wriggling snake among the black rocks and through the dense underbrush in search after water. by some miracle of divine mercy he was permitted to pass unscathed, and came crawling back, a dozen hastily filled canteens dangling across his shoulders. it was like nectar to those parched, feverish throats; but of food barely a mouthful apiece remained in the haversacks. the second day dragged onward, its hours bringing no change for the better, no relief, no slightest ray of hope. the hot sun scorched them pitilessly, and two of the wounded died delirious. from dawn to dark there came no slackening of the savage watchfulness which held the survivors helpless behind their coverts. the merest uplifting of a head, the slightest movement of a hand, was sufficient to demonstrate how sharp were those savage eyes. no white man in the short half-circle dared to waste a single shot now; all realized that their stock of ammunition was becoming fearfully scant, yet those scheming devils continually baited them to draw their fire. another long black night followed, during which, for an hour or so in turn, the weary defenders slept, tossing uneasily, and disturbed by fearful dreams. then gray and solemn, amid the lingering shadows of darkness, dawned the third dread day of unequal conflict. all understood that it was destined to be their last on this earth unless help came. it seemed utterly hopeless to protract the struggle, yet they held on grimly, patiently, half-delirious from hunger and thirst, gazing into each other's haggard faces, almost without recognition, every man at his post. then it was that old gillis received his death-wound, and the solemn, fateful whisper ran from lip to lip along the scattered line that only five cartridges remained. for two days wyman had scarcely stirred from where he lay bolstered against the rock. sometimes he became delirious from fever, uttering incoherent phrases, or swearing in pitiful weakness. again he would partially arouse to his old sense of soldierly duty, and assume intelligent command. now he twisted painfully about upon his side, and, with clouded eyes, sought to discern what man was lying next him. the face was hidden so that all he could clearly distinguish was the fact that this man was not clothed as a soldier. "is that you, hampton?" he questioned, his voice barely audible. the person thus addressed, who was lying flat upon his back, gazing silently upward at the rocky front of the cliff, turned cautiously over upon his elbow before venturing reply. "yes; what is it, sergeant? it looks to be a beauty of a morning way up yonder." there was a hearty, cheery ring to his clear voice which left the pain-racked old soldier envious. "my god!" he growled savagely. "'t is likely to be the last any of us will ever see. was n't it you i heard whistling just now? one might imagine this was to be a wedding, rather than a funeral." "and why not, wyman? did n't you know they employed music at both functions nowadays? besides, it is not every man who is permitted to assist at his own obsequies--the very uniqueness of such a situation rather appeals to my sense of humor. pretty tune, that one i was whistling, don't you think? picked it up on 'the pike' in cincinnati fifteen years ago. sorry i don't recall the words, or i'd sing them for you." the sergeant, his teeth clinched tightly to repress the pain racking him, stifled his resentment with an evident effort. "you may be less light-hearted when you learn that the last of our ammunition is already in the guns," he remarked, stiffly. "i suspected as much." and the speaker lifted himself on one elbow to peer down the line of recumbent figures. "to be perfectly frank with you, sergeant, the stuff has held out considerably longer than i believed it would, judging from the way those 'dough boys' of yours kept popping at every shadow in front of them. it 's a marvel to me, the mutton-heads they take into the army. oh, now, you need n't scowl at me like that, wyman; i 've worn the blue, and seen some service where a fellow needed to be a man to sport the uniform. besides, i 'm not indifferent, old chap, and just so long as there remained any work worth attending to in this skirmishing affair, i did it, did n't i? but i tell you, man, there is mighty little good trying to buck against fate, and when luck once finally lets go of a victim, he's bound to drop straight to the bottom before he stops. that's the sum and substance of all my philosophy, old fellow, consequently i never kick simply because things happen to go wrong. what's the use? they 'll go wrong just the same. then again, my life has never been so sweet as to cause any excessive grief over the prospect of losing it. possibly i might prefer to pass out from this world in some other manner, but that's merely a matter of individual taste, and just now there does n't seem to be very much choice left me. consequently, upheld by my acquired philosophy, and encouraged by the rectitude of my past conduct, i 'm merely holding back one shot for myself, as a sort of grand finale to this fandango, and another for that little girl out yonder." these words were uttered slowly, the least touch of a lazy drawl apparent in the low voice, yet there was an earnest simplicity pervading the speech which somehow gave it impressiveness. the man meant exactly what he said, beyond the possibility of a doubt. the old soldier, accustomed to every form of border eccentricity, gazed at him with disapproval. "either you 're the coolest devil i 've met during thirty years of soldiering," he commented, doubtfully, "or else the craziest. who are you, anyhow? i half believe you might be bob hampton, of placer." the other smiled grimly. "you have the name tolerably correct, old fellow; likewise that delightful spot so lately honored by my residence. in brief, you have succeeded in calling the turn perfectly, so far as your limited information extends. in strict confidence i propose now to impart to you what has hitherto remained a profound secret. upon special request of a number of influential citizens of placer, including the city marshal and other officials, expressed in mass-meeting, i have decided upon deserting that sagebrush metropolis to its just fate, and plan to add the influence of my presence to the future development of glencaid. i learn that the climate there is more salubrious, more conducive to long living, the citizens of placer being peculiarly excitable and careless with their fire-arms." the sergeant had been listening with open mouth. "the hell you say!" he finally ejaculated. "the undented truth, every word of it. no wonder you are shocked. a fine state of affairs, isn't it, when a plain-spoken, pleasant-mannered gentleman, such as i surely am,--a university graduate, by all the gods, the nephew of a united states senator, and acknowledged to be the greatest exponent of scientific poker in this territory,--should be obliged to hastily change his chosen place of abode because of the threat of an ignorant and depraved mob. ever have a rope dangled in front of your eyes, sergeant, and a gun-barrel biting into your cheek at the same time? accept my word for it, the experience is trying on the nerves. ran a perfectly square game too, and those ducks knew it; but there 's no true sporting spirit left in this territory any more. however, spilled milk is never worth sobbing over, and fate always contrives to play the final hand in any game, and stocks the cards to win. quite probably you are familiar with bobbie burns, sergeant, and will recall easily these words, 'the best-laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft agley'? well, instead of proceeding, as originally intended, to the delightful environs of glencaid, for a sort of a summer vacation, i have, on the impulse of the moment, decided upon crossing the styx. our somewhat impulsive red friends out yonder are kindly preparing to assist me in making a successful passage, and the citizens of glencaid, when they learn the sorrowful news of my translation, ought to come nobly forward with some suitable memorial to my virtues. if, by any miracle of chance, you should pull through, wyman, i would hold it a friendly act if you suggest the matter. a neat monument, for instance, might suitably voice their grief; it would cost them far less than i should in the flesh, and would prove highly gratifying to me, as well as those mourners left behind in placer." "a breath of good honest prayer would serve better than all your fun," groaned the sergeant, soberly. the gray eyes resting thoughtfully on the old soldier's haggard face became instantly grave and earnest. "sincerely i wish i might aid you with one," the man admitted, "but i fear, old fellow, any prayer coming from my lips would never ascend very far. however, i might try the comfort of a hymn, and you will remember this one, which, no doubt, you have helped to sing back in god's country." there was a moment's hushed pause, during which a rifle cracked sharply out in the ravine; then the reckless fellow, his head partially supported against the protecting bowlder, lifted up a full, rich barytone in rendition of that hymn of christian faith-- "nearer, my god, to thee! nearer to thee! e'en though it be a cross that raiseth me, still all my song shall be, nearer, my god, to thee! nearer to thee." glazed and wearied eyes glanced cautiously toward the singer around the edges of protecting rocks; fingers loosened their grasp upon the rifle barrels; smoke-begrimed cheeks became moist; while lips, a moment before profaned by oaths, grew silent and trembling. out in front a revengeful brave sent his bullet swirling just above the singer's head, the sharp fragments of rock dislodged falling in a shower upon his upturned face; but the fearless rascal sang serenely on to the end, without a quaver. "mistake it for a death song likely," he remarked dryly, while the last clear, lingering note, reechoed by the cliff, died reluctantly away in softened cadence. "beautiful old song, sergeant, and i trust hearing it again has done you good. sang it once in a church way back in new england. but what is the trouble? did you call me for some special reason?" "yes," came the almost gruff response; for wyman, the fever stealing back upon him, felt half ashamed of his unshed tears. "that is, provided you retain sufficient sense to listen. old gillis was shot over an hour ago, yonder behind that big bowlder, and his girl sits there still holding his head in her lap. she'll get hit also unless somebody pulls her out of there, and she's doing no good to gillis--he's dead." hampton's clear-cut, expressive face became graver, all trace of recklessness gone from it. he lifted his head cautiously, peering over his rock cover toward where he remembered earlier in the fight gillis had sought refuge. chapter ii old gillis's girl excepting for a vague knowledge that gillis had had a girl with him, together with the half-formed determination that if worse came to worst she must never be permitted to fall alive into the hands of the lustful sioux, mr. hampton had scarcely so much as noted her presence. of late years he had not felt greatly interested in the sex, and his inclination, since uniting his shattered fortunes with this little company, had been to avoid coming into personal contact with this particular specimen. practically, therefore, he now observed her for the first time. previously she had passed within range of his vision simply as the merest shadow; now she began to appeal faintly to him as a personality, uninteresting enough, of course, yet a living human being, whom it had oddly become his manifest duty to succor and protect. the never wholly eradicated instincts of one born and bred a gentleman, although heavily overlaid by the habits acquired in many a rough year passed along the border, brought vividly before him the requirements of the situation. undoubtedly death was destined to be the early portion of them all; nevertheless she deserved every opportunity for life that remained, and with the ending of hope--well, there are worse fates upon the frontier than the unexpected plunge of a bullet through a benumbed brain. guided by the unerring instinct of an old indian fighter, gillis, during that first mad retreat, had discovered temporary shelter behind one of the largest bowlders. it was a trifle in advance of those later rolled into position by the soldiers, but was of a size and shape which should have afforded ample protection for two, and doubtless would have done so had it not been for the firing from the cliff opposite. even then it was a deflected bullet, glancing from off the polished surface of the rock, which found lodgment in the sturdy old fighter's brain. the girl had caught him as he fell, had wasted all her treasured store of water in a vain effort to cleanse the blood from his features, and now sat there, pillowing his head upon her knee, although the old man was stone dead with the first touch of the ball. that had occurred fully an hour before, but she continued in the same posture, a grave, pathetic figure, her face sobered and careworn beyond her years, her eyes dry and staring, one brown hand grasping unconsciously the old man's useless rifle. she would scarcely have been esteemed attractive even under much happier circumstances and assisted by dress, yet there was something in the independent poise of her head, the steady fixedness of her posture, which served to interest hampton as he now watched her curiously. "fighting blood," he muttered admiringly to himself. "might fail to develop into very much of a society belle, but likely to prove valuable out here." she was rather a slender slip of a thing, a trifle too tall for her years, perhaps, yet with no lack of development apparent in the slim, rounded figure. her coarse home-made dress of dark calico fitted her sadly, while her rumpled hair, from which the broad-brimmed hat had fallen, possessed a reddish copper tinge where it was touched by the sun. mr. hampton's survey did not increase his desire for more intimate acquaintanceship, yet he recognized anew her undoubted claim upon him. "suppose i might just as well drop out that way as any other," he reflected, thoughtfully. "it's all in the game." lying flat upon his stomach, both arms extended, he slowly forced himself beyond his bowlder into the open. there was no great distance to be traversed, and a considerable portion of the way was somewhat protected by low bushes. hampton took few chances of those spying eyes above, never uplifting his head the smallest fraction of an inch, but reaching forward with blindly groping hands, caught hold upon any projecting root or stone which enabled him to drag his body an inch farther. twice they fired directly down at him from the opposite summit, and once a fleck of sharp rock, chipped by a glancing bullet, embedded itself in his cheek, dyeing the whole side of his face crimson. but not once did he pause or glance aside; nor did the girl look up from the imploring face of her dead. as he crept silently in, sheltering himself next to the body of the dead man, she perceived his presence for the first time, and shrank back as if in dread. "what are you doing? why--why did you come here?" she questioned, a falter in her voice; and he noticed that her eyes were dark and large, yielding a marked impress of beauty to her face. "i was unwilling to leave you here alone," he answered, quietly, "and hope to discover some means for getting you safely back beside the others." "but i didn't want you," and there was a look of positive dislike in her widely opened eyes. "did n't want me?" he echoed these unexpected words in a tone of complete surprise. "surely you could not desire to be left here alone? why didn't you want me?" "because i know who you are!" her voice seemed to catch in her throat. "he told me. you're the man who shot jim eberly." mr. hampton was never of a pronounced emotional nature, nor was he a person easily disconcerted, yet he flushed at the sound of these impulsive words, and the confident smile deserted his lips. for a moment they sat thus, the dead body lying between, and looked at each other. when the man finally broke the constrained silence a deeper intonation had crept into his voice. "my girl," he said gravely, and not without a suspicion of pleading, "this is no place for me to attempt any defence of a shooting affray in a gambling-house, although i might plead with some justice that eberly enjoyed the honor of shooting first. i was not aware of your personal feeling in the matter, or i might have permitted some one else to come here in my stead. now it is too late. i have never spoken to you before, and do so at this time merely from a sincere desire to be of some assistance." there was that in his manner of grave courtesy which served to steady the girl. probably never before in all her rough frontier experience had she been addressed thus formally. her closely compressed lips twitched nervously, but her questioning eyes remained unlowered. "you may stay," she asserted, soberly. "only don't touch me." no one could ever realize how much those words hurt him. he had been disciplined in far too severe a school ever to permit his face to index the feelings of his heart, yet the unconcealed shrinking of this uncouth child from slightest personal contact with him cut through his acquired reserve as perhaps nothing else could ever have done. not until he had completely conquered his first unwise impulse to retort angrily, did he venture again to speak. "i hope to aid you in getting back beside the others, where you will be less exposed." "will you take him?" "he is dead," hampton said, soberly, "and i can do nothing to aid him. but there remains a chance for you to escape." "then i won't go," she declared, positively. hampton's gray eyes looked for a long moment fixedly into her darker ones, while the two took mental stock of each other. he realized the utter futility of any further argument, while she felt instinctively the cool, dominating strength of the man. neither was composed of that poor fibre which bends. "very well, my young lady," he said, easily, stretching himself out more comfortably in the rock shadow. "then i will remain here with you; it makes small odds." excepting for one hasty, puzzled glance, she did not deign to look again toward him, and the man rested motionless upon his back, staring up at the sky. finally, curiosity overmastered the actor in him, and he turned partially upon one side, so as to bring her profile within his range of vision. the untamed, rebellious nature of the girl had touched a responsive chord; unseeking any such result she had directly appealed to his better judgment, and enabled him to perceive her from an entirely fresh view-point. her clearly expressed disdain, her sturdy independence both of word and action, coupled with her frankly voiced dislike, awoke within him an earnest desire to stand higher in her regard. her dark, glowing eyes were lowered upon the white face of the dead man, yet hampton noted how clear, in spite of sun-tan, were those tints of health upon the rounded cheek, and how soft and glossy shone her wealth of rumpled hair. even the tinge of color, so distasteful in the full glare of the sun, appeared to have darkened under the shadow, its shade framing the downcast face into a pensive fairness. then he observed how dry and parched her lips were. "take a drink of this," he insisted heartily, holding out toward her as he spoke his partially filled canteen. she started at the unexpected sound of his voice, yet uplifted the welcome water to her mouth, while hampton, observing it all closely, could but remark the delicate shapeliness other hand. "if that old fellow was her father," he reflected soberly, "i should like to have seen her mother." "thank you," she said simply, handing back the canteen, but without lifting her eyes again to his face. "i was so thirsty." her low tone, endeavoring to be polite enough, contained no note of encouragement. "was gillis your father?" the man questioned, determined to make her recognize his presence. "i suppose so; i don't know." "you don't know? am i to understand you are actually uncertain whether this man was your father or not?" "that is about what i said, was n't it? not that it is any of your business, so far as i know, mr. bob hampton, but i answered you all right. he brought me up, and i called him 'dad' about as far back as i can remember, but i don't reckon as he ever told me he was my father. so you can understand just what you please." "his name was gillis, was n't it?" the girl nodded wearily. "post-trader at fort bethune?" again the rumpled head silently acquiesced. "what is your name?" "he always called me 'kid,'" she admitted unwillingly, "but i reckon if you have any further occasion for addressing me, you'd better say, 'miss gillis.'" hampton laughed lightly, his reckless humor instantly restored by her perverse manner. "heaven preserve me!" he exclaimed good naturedly, "but you are certainly laying it on thick, young lady! however, i believe we might become good friends if we ever have sufficient luck to get out from this hole alive. darn if i don't sort of cotton to you, little girl--you've got some sand." for a brief space her truthful, angry eyes rested scornfully upon his face, her lips parted as though trembling with a sharp retort. then she deliberately turned her back upon him without uttering a word. for what may have been the first and only occasion in mr. hampton's audacious career, he realized his utter helplessness. this mere slip of a red-headed girl, this little nameless waif of the frontier, condemned him so completely, and without waste of words, as to leave him weaponless. not that he greatly cared; oh, no! still, it was an entirely new experience; the arrow went deeper than he would have willingly admitted. men of middle age, gray hairs already commencing to shade their temples, are not apt to enjoy being openly despised by young women, not even by ordinary freckle-faced girls, clad in coarse short frocks. yet he could think of no fitting retort worth the speaking, and consequently he simply lay back, seeking to treat this disagreeable creature with that silent contempt which is the last resort of the vanquished. he was little inclined to admit, even to himself, that he had been fairly hit, yet the truth remained that this girl was beginning to interest him oddly. he admired her sturdy independence, her audacity of speech, her unqualified frankness. mr. hampton was a thoroughgoing sport, and no quality was quite so apt to appeal to him as dead gameness. he glanced surreptitiously aside at her once more, but there was no sign of relenting in the averted face. he rested lower against the rock, his face upturned toward the sky, and thought. he was becoming vaguely aware that something entirely new, and rather unwelcome, had crept into his life during that last fateful half-hour. it could not be analyzed, nor even expressed definitely in words, but he comprehended this much--he would really enjoy rescuing this girl, and he should like to live long enough to discover into what sort of woman she would develop. it was no spirit of bravado that gave rise to his reckless speech of an hour previous. it was simply a spontaneous outpouring of his real nature, an unpremeditated expression of that supreme carelessness with which he regarded the future, the small value he set on life. he truly felt as utterly indifferent toward fate as his words signified. deeply conscious of a life long ago irretrievably wrecked, everything behind a chaos, everything before worthless,--for years he had been actually seeking death; a hundred times he had gladly marked its apparent approach, a smile of welcome upon his lips. yet it had never quite succeeded in reaching him, and nothing had been gained beyond a reputation for cool, reckless daring, which he did not in the least covet. but now, miracle of all miracles, just as the end seemed actually attained, seemed beyond any possibility of being turned aside, he began to experience a desire to live--he wanted to save this girl. his keenly observant eyes, trained by the exigencies of his trade to take note of small things, and rendered eager by this newly awakened ambition, scanned the cliff towering above them. he perceived the extreme irregularity of its front, and numerous peculiarities of formation which had escaped him hitherto. suddenly his puzzled face brightened to the birth of an idea. by heavens! it might be done! surely it might be done! inch by inch he traced the obscure passage, seeking to impress each faint detail upon his memory--that narrow ledge within easy reach of an upstretched arm, the sharp outcropping of rock-edges here and there, the deep gash as though some giant axe had cleaved the stone, those sturdy cedars growing straight out over the chasm like the bowsprits of ships, while all along the way, irregular and ragged, varied rifts not entirely unlike the steps of a crazy staircase. the very conception of such an exploit caused his flesh to creep. but he was not of that class of men who fall back dazed before the face of danger. again and again, led by an impulse he was unable to resist, he studied that precipitous rock, every nerve tingling to the newborn hope. god helping them, even so desperate a deed might be accomplished, although it would test the foot and nerve of a swiss mountaineer. he glanced again uneasily toward his companion, and saw the same motionless figure, the same sober face turned deliberately away. hampton did not smile, but his square jaw set, and he clinched his hands. he had no fear that she might fall him, but for the first time in all his life he questioned his own courage. chapter iii between life and death the remainder of that day, as well as much of the gloomy night following, composed a silent, lingering horror. the fierce pangs of hunger no longer gnawed, but a dull apathy now held the helpless defenders. one of the wounded died, a mere lad, sobbing pitifully for his mother; an infantryman, peering forth from his covert, had been shot in the face, and his scream echoed among the rocks in multiplied accents of agony; while wyman lay tossing and moaning, mercifully unconscious. the others rested in their places, scarcely venturing to stir a limb, their roving, wolfish eyes the only visible evidence of remaining life, every hope vanished, yet each man clinging to his assigned post of duty in desperation. there was but little firing--the defenders nursing their slender stock, the savages biding their time. when night shut down the latter became bolder, and taunted cruelly those destined to become so soon their hapless victims. twice the maddened men fired recklessly at those dancing devils, and one pitched forward, emitting a howl of pain that caused his comrades to cower once again behind their covers. one and all these frontiersmen recognized the inevitable--before dawn the end must come. no useless words were spoken; the men merely clinched their teeth and waited. hampton crept closer in beside the girl while the shadows deepened, and ventured to touch her hand. perhaps the severe strain of their situation, the intense loneliness of that indian-haunted twilight, had somewhat softened her resentment, for she made no effort now to repulse him. "kid," he said at last, "are you game for a try at getting out of this?" she appeared to hesitate over her answer, and he could feel her tumultuous breathing. some portion of her aversion had vanished. his face was certainly not an unpleasant one to look upon, and there were others other sex who had discovered in it a covering for a multitude of sins. hampton smiled slightly while he waited; he possessed some knowledge of the nature feminine. "come, kid," he ventured finally, yet with new assurance vibrating in his low voice; "this is surely a poor time and place for any indulgence in tantrums, and you 've got more sense. i 'm going to try to climb up the face of that cliff yonder,--it's the only possible way out from here,--and i propose to take you along with me." she snatched her hand roughly away, yet remained facing him. "who gave you any right to decide what i should do?" the man clasped his fingers tightly about her slender arm, advancing his face until he could look squarely into hers. she read in the lines of that determined countenance an inflexible resolve which overmastered her. "the right given by almighty god to protect any one of your sex in peril," he replied. "before dawn those savage fiends will be upon us. we are utterly helpless. there remains only one possible path for escape, and i believe i have discovered it. now, my girl, you either climb those rocks with me, or i shall kill you where you are. it is that, or the sioux torture. i have two shots left in this gun,--one for you, the other for myself. the time has come for deciding which of these alternatives you prefer." the gleam of a star glittered along the steel of his revolver, and she realized that he meant what he threatened. "if i select your bullet rather than the rocks, what then?" "you will get it, but in that case you will die like a fool." "you have believed me to be one, all this afternoon." "possibly," he admitted; "your words and actions certainly justified some such conclusion, but the opportunity has arrived for causing me to revise that suspicion." "i don't care to have you, revise it, mr. bob hampton. if i go, i shall hate you just the same." hampton's teeth clicked like those of an angry dog. "hate and be damned," he exclaimed roughly. "all i care about now is to drag you out of here alive." his unaffected sincerity impressed her more than any amount of pleading. she was long accustomed to straight talk; it always meant business, and her untutored nature instantly responded with a throb of confidence. "well, if you put it that way," she said, "i 'll go." for one breathless moment neither stirred. then a single wild yell rang sharply forth from the rocks in their front, and a rifle barked savagely, its red flame cleaving the darkness with tongue of fire. an instant and the impenetrable gloom again surrounded them. "come on, then," he whispered, his fingers grasping her sleeve. she shook off the restraining touch of his hand as if it were contamination, and sank down upon her knees beside the inert body. he could barely perceive the dim outlines of her bowed figure, yet never moved, his breath perceptibly quickening, while he watched and waited. without word or moan she bent yet lower, and pressed her lips upon the cold, white face. the man caught no more than the faintest echo of a murmured "good-bye, old dad; i wish i could take you with me." then she stood stiffly upright, facing him. "i'm ready now," she announced calmly. "you can go on ahead." they crept among low shrubs and around the bowlders, carefully guarding every slightest movement lest some rustle of disturbed foliage, or sound of loosened stone, might draw the fire of those keen watchers. nor dared they ignore the close proximity of their own little company, who, amid such darkness, might naturally suspect them for approaching savages. every inch of their progress was attained through tedious groping, yet the distance to be traversed was short, and hampton soon found himself pressing against the uprising precipice. passing his fingers along the front, he finally found that narrow ledge which he had previously located with such patient care, and reaching back, drew the girl silently upon her feet beside him. against that background of dark cliff they might venture to stand erect, the faint glimmer of reflected light barely sufficient to reveal to each the shadowy outline of the other. "don't move an inch from this spot," he whispered. "it wouldn't be a square deal, kid, to leave those poor fellows to their death without even telling them there's a chance to get out." she attempted no reply, as he glided noiselessly away, but her face, could he have seen it, was not devoid of expression. this was an act of generosity and deliberate courage of the very kind most apt to appeal to her nature, and within her secret heart there was rapidly developing a respect for this man, who with such calm assurance won his own way. he was strong, forceful, brave,--homeric virtues of real worth in that hard life which she knew best. all this swept across her mind in a flash of revelation while she stood alone, her eyes endeavoring vainly to peer into the gloom. then, suddenly, that black curtain was rent by jagged spurts of red and yellow flame. dazed for an instant, her heart throbbing wildly to the sharp reports of the rifles, she shrank cowering back, her fascinated gaze fixed on those imp-like figures leaping forward from rock to rock. almost with the flash and sound hampton sprang hastily back and gathered her in his arms. "catch hold, kid, anywhere; only go up, and quick!" as he thus lifted her she felt the irregularities of rock beneath her clutching fingers, and scrambled instinctively forward along the narrow shelf, and then, reaching higher, her groping hands clasped the roots of a projecting cedar. she retained no longer any memory for hampton; her brain was completely terrorized. inch by inch, foot by foot, clinging to a fragment of rock here, grasping a slippery branch there, occasionally helped by encountering a deeper gash in the face of the precipice, her movements concealed by the scattered cedars, she toiled feverishly up, led by instinct, like any wild animal desperately driven by fear, and only partially conscious of the real dread of her terrible position. the first time she became aware that hampton was closely following was when her feet slipped along a naked root, and she would have plunged headlong into unknown depths had she not come into sudden contact with his supporting shoulder. faint and dizzy, and trembling like the leaf of an aspen, she crept forward onto a somewhat wider ledge of thin rock, and lay there quivering painfully from head to foot. a moment of suspense, and he was outstretched beside her, resting at full length along the very outer edge, his hand closing tightly over her own. "remain perfectly quiet," he whispered, panting heavily. "we can be no safer anywhere else." she could distinguish the rapid pounding of his heart as well as her own, mingled with the sharp intake of their heavy breathing, but these sounds were soon overcome by that of the tumult below. shots and yells, the dull crash of blows, the shouts of men engaged in a death grapple, the sharp crackling of innumerable rifles, the inarticulate moans of pain, the piercing scream of sudden torture, were borne upward to them from out the blackness. they did not venture to lift their heads from off the hard rock; the girl sobbed silently, her slender form trembling; the fingers of the man closed more tightly about her hand. all at once the hideous uproar ceased with a final yelping of triumph, seemingly reechoed the entire length of the chasm, in the midst of which one single voice pleaded pitifully,--only to die away in a shriek. the two agonized fugitives lay listening, their ears strained to catch the slightest sound from below. the faint radiance of a single star glimmered along the bald front of the cliff, but hampton, peering cautiously across the edge, could distinguish nothing. his ears could discern evidences of movement, and he heard guttural voices calling at a distance, but to the vision all was black. the distance those faint sounds appeared away made his head reel, and he shrank cowering back against the girl's body, closing his eyes and sinking his head upon his arm. these uncertain sounds ceased, the strained ears of the fugitives heard the crashing of bodies through the thick shrubbery, and then even this noise died away in the distance. yet neither ventured to stir or speak. it may be that the girl slept fitfully, worn out by long vigil and intense strain; but the man proved less fortunate, his eyes staring out continually into the black void, his thoughts upon other days long vanished but now brought back in all their bitterness by the mere proximity of this helpless waif who had fallen into his care. his features were drawn and haggard when the first gray dawn found ghastly reflection along the opposite rock summit, and with blurred eyes he watched the faint tinge of returning light steal downward into the canyon. at last it swept aside those lower clinging mists, as though some invisible hand had drawn back the night curtains, and he peered over the edge of his narrow resting-place, gazing directly down upon the scene of massacre. with a quick gasp of unspeakable horror he shrank so sharply back as to cause the suddenly awakened girl to start and glance into his face. "what is it?" she questioned, with quick catching of breath, reading that which she could not clearly interpret in his shocked expression. "nothing of consequence," and he faintly endeavored to smile. "i suppose i must have been dreaming also, and most unpleasantly. no; please do not look down; it would only cause your head to reel, and our upward climb is not yet completed. do you feel strong enough now to make another attempt to reach the top?" his quiet spirit of assured dominance seemed to command her obedience. with a slight shudder she glanced doubtfully up the seemingly inaccessible height. "can we?" she questioned helplessly. "we can, simply because we must," and his white teeth shut together firmly. "there is no possibility of retracing our steps downward, but with the help of this daylight we surely ought to be able to discover some path leading up." he rose cautiously to his feet, pressing her more closely against the face of the cliff, thus holding her in comparative safety while preventing her from glancing back into the dizzy chasm. the most difficult portion of their journey was apparently just before them, consisting of a series of narrow ledges, so widely separated and irregular as to require each to assist the other while passing from point to point. beyond these a slender cleft, bordered by gnarled roots of low bushes, promised a somewhat easier and securer passage toward the summit. hampton's face became deathly white as they began the perilous climb, but his hand remained steady, his foot sure, while the girl moved forward as if remaining unconscious of the presence of danger, apparently swayed by his dominant will to do whatsoever he bade her. more than once they tottered on the very brink, held to safety merely by desperate clutchings at rock or shrub, yet never once did the man loosen his guarding grasp of his companion. pressed tightly against the smooth rock, feeling for every crevice, every slightest irregularity of surface, making use of creeping tendril or dead branch, daring death along every inch of the way, these two creepers at last attained the opening to the little gulley, and sank down, faint and trembling, their hands bleeding, their clothing sadly torn by the sharp ledges across which they had pulled their bodies by the sheer strength of extended arms. hampton panted heavily from exertion, yet the old light of cool, resourceful daring had crept back into the gray eyes, while the stern lines about his lips assumed pleasanter curves. the girl glanced furtively at him, the long lashes shadowing the expression of her lowered eyes. in spite of deep prejudice she felt impelled to like this man; he accomplished things, and he didn't talk. it was nothing more serious than a hard and toilsome climb after that, a continuous struggle testing every muscle, straining every sinew, causing both to sink down again and again, panting and exhausted, no longer stimulated by imminent peril. the narrow cleft they followed led somewhat away from the exposed front of the precipice, yet arose steep and jagged before them, a slender gash through the solid rock, up which they were often compelled to force their passage; again it became clogged with masses of debris, dead branches, and dislodged fragments of stone, across which they were obliged to struggle desperately, while once they completely halted before a sheer smoothness of rock wall that appeared impassable. it was bridged finally by a cedar trunk, which hampton wrenched from out its rocky foothold, and the two crept cautiously forward, to emerge where the sunlight rested golden at the summit. they sank face downward in the short grass, barely conscious that they had finally won their desperate passage. slowly hampton succeeded in uplifting his tired body and his reeling head, until he could sit partially upright and gaze unsteadily about. the girl yet remained motionless at his feet, her thick hair, a mass of red gold in the sunshine, completely concealing her face, her slender figure quivering to sobs of utter exhaustion. before them stretched the barren plain, brown, desolate, drear, offering in all its wide expanse no hopeful promise of rescue, no slightest suggestion even of water, excepting a fringe of irregular trees, barely discernible against the horizon. that lorn, deserted waste, shimmering beneath the sun-rays, the heat waves already becoming manifest above the rock-strewn surface, presented a most depressing spectacle. with hand partially shading his aching eyes from the blinding glare, the man studied its every exposed feature, his face hardening again into lines of stern determination. the girl stirred from her position, flinging back her heavy hair with one hand, and looking up into his face with eyes that read at once his disappointment. "have--have you any water left?" she asked at last, her lips parched and burning as if from fever. he shook the canteen dangling forgotten at his side. "there may be a few drops," he said, handing it to her, although scarcely removing his fixed gaze from off that dreary plain. "we shall be obliged to make those trees yonder; there ought to be water there in plenty, and possibly we may strike a trail." she staggered to her feet, gripping his shoulder, and swaying a little from weakness, then, holding aside her hair, gazed long in the direction he pointed. "i fairly shake from hunger," she exclaimed, almost angrily, "and am terribly tired and sore, but i reckon i can make it if i 've got to." there was nothing more said between them. like two automatons, they started off across the parched grass, the heat waves rising and falling as they stumbled forward. neither realized until then how thoroughly that hard climb up the rocks, the strain of continued peril, and the long abstinence from food had sapped their strength, yet to remain where they were meant certain death; all hope found its centre amid those distant beckoning trees. mechanically the girl gathered back her straying tresses, and tied them with a rag torn from her frayed skirt. hampton noted silently how heavy and sunken her eyes were; he felt a dull pity, yet could not sufficiently arouse himself from the lethargy of exhaustion to speak. his body seemed a leaden weight, his brain a dull, inert mass; nothing was left him but an unreasoning purpose, the iron will to press on across that desolate plain, which already reeled and writhed before his aching eyes. no one can explain later how such deeds are ever accomplished; how the tortured soul controls physical weakness, and compels strained sinews to perform the miracle of action when all ambition has died. hampton surely must have both seen and known, for he kept his direction, yet never afterwards did he regain any clear memory of it. twice she fell heavily, and the last time she lay motionless, her face pressed against the short grass blades. he stood looking down upon her, his head reeling beneath the hot rays of the sun, barely conscious of what had occurred, yet never becoming totally dead to his duty. painfully he stooped, lifted the limp, slender figure against his shoulder, and went straggling forward, as uncertain in steps as a blind man, all about him stretching the dull, dead desolation of the plain. again and again he sank down, pillowing his eyes from the pitiless sun glare; only to stagger upright once more, ever bending lower and lower beneath his unconscious burden. chapter iv on the naked plain it was two hundred and eighteen miles, as the crow flies, between old fort bethune and the rock ford crossing the bear water, every foot of that dreary, treeless distance indian-haunted, the favorite skulking-place and hunting-ground of the restless sioux. winter and summer this wide expanse had to be suspiciously patrolled by numerous military scouting parties, anxious to learn more regarding the uncertain whereabouts of wandering bands and the purposes of malecontents, or else drawn hither and thither by continually shifting rumors of hostile raids upon the camps of cattlemen. all this involved rough, difficult service, with small meed of honor attached, while never had soldiers before found trickier foemen to contend against, or fighters more worthy of their steel. one such company, composed of a dozen mounted infantrymen, accompanied by three cree trailers, rode slowly and wearily across the brown exposed uplands down into the longer, greener grass of the wide valley bottom, until they emerged upon a barely perceptible trail which wound away in snake-like twistings, toward those high, barren hills whose blue masses were darkly silhouetted against the western sky. upon every side of them extended the treeless wilderness, the desolate loneliness of bare, brown prairie, undulating just enough to be baffling to the eyes, yet so dull, barren, grim, silent, and colorless as to drive men mad. the shimmering heat rose and fell in great pulsating waves, although no slightest breeze came to stir the stagnant air, while thick clouds of white dust, impregnated with poisonous alkali, rose from out the grass roots, stirred by the horses' feet, to powder the passers-by from head to foot. the animals moved steadily forward, reluctant and weary, their heads drooping dejectedly, their distended nostrils red and quivering, the oily perspiration streaking their dusted sides. the tired men, half blinded by the glare, lolled heavily in their deep cavalry saddles, with encrusted eyes staring moodily ahead. riding alone, and slightly in advance of the main body, his mount a rangy, broad-chested roan, streaked with alkali dust, the drooping head telling plainly of wearied muscles, was the officer in command. he was a pleasant-faced, stalwart young fellow, with the trim figure of a trained athlete, possessing a square chin smoothly shaven, his intelligent blue eyes half concealed beneath his hat brim, which had been drawn low to shade them from the glare, one hand pressing upon his saddle holster as he leaned over to rest. no insignia of rank served to distinguish him from those equally dusty fellows plodding gloomily behind, but a broad stripe of yellow running down the seams of his trousers, together with his high boots, bespoke the cavalry service, while the front of his battered campaign hat bore the decorations of two crossed sabres, with a gilded " " prominent between. his attire was completed by a coarse blue shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, about which had been loosely knotted a darker colored silk handkerchief, and across the back of the saddle was fastened a uniform jacket, the single shoulder-strap revealed presenting the plain yellow of a second lieutenant. attaining to the summit of a slight knoll, whence a somewhat wider vista lay outspread, he partially turned his face toward the men straggling along in the rear, while his hand swept across the dreary scene. "if that line of trees over yonder indicates the course of the bear water, carson," he questioned quietly, "where are we expected to hit the trail leading down to the ford?" the sergeant, thus addressed, a little stocky fellow wearing a closely clipped gray moustache, spurred his exhausted horse into a brief trot, and drew up short by the officer's side, his heavy eyes scanning the vague distance, even while his right hand was uplifted in perfunctory salute. "there 's no trail i know about along this bank, sir," he replied respectfully, "but the big cottonwood with the dead branch forking out at the top is the ford guide." they rode down in moody silence into the next depression, and began wearily climbing the long hill opposite, apparently the last before coming directly down the banks of the stream. as his barely moving horse topped the uneven summit, the lieutenant suddenly drew in his rein, and uttering an exclamation of surprise, bent forward, staring intently down in his immediate front. for a single instant he appeared to doubt the evidence of his own eyes; then he swung hastily from out the saddle, all weariness forgotten. "my god!" he cried, sharply, his eyes suspiciously sweeping the bare slope. "there are two bodies lying here--white people!" they lay all doubled up in the coarse grass, exactly as they had fallen, the man resting face downward, the slender figure of the girl clasped vice-like in his arms, with her tightly closed eyes upturned toward the glaring sun. their strange, strained, unnatural posture, the rigidity of their limbs, the ghastly pallor of the exposed young face accentuated by dark, dishevelled hair, all alike seemed to indicate death. never once questioning but that he was confronting the closing scene of a grewsome tragedy, the thoroughly aroused lieutenant dropped upon his knees beside them, his eyes already moist with sympathy, his anxious fingers feeling for a possible heart-beat. a moment of hushed, breathless suspense followed, and then he began flinging terse, eager commands across his shoulder to where his men were clustered. "here! carson, perry, ronk, lay hold quick, and break this fellow's clasp," he cried, briefly. "the girl retains a spark of life yet, but the man's arms fairly crush her." with all the rigidity of actual death those clutching hands held their tenacious grip, but the aroused soldiers wrenched the interlaced fingers apart with every tenderness possible in such emergency, shocked at noting the expression of intense agony stamped upon the man's face when thus exposed to view. the whole terrible story was engraven there--how he had toiled, agonized, suffered, before finally yielding to the inevitable and plunging forward in unconsciousness, written as legibly as though by a pen. every pang of mental torture had left plainest imprint across that haggard countenance. he appeared old, pitiable, a wreck. carson, who in his long service had witnessed much of death and suffering, bent tenderly above him, seeking for some faint evidence of lingering life. his fingers felt for no wound, for to his experienced eyes the sad tale was already sufficiently clear--hunger, exposure, the horrible heart-breaking strain of hopeless endeavor, had caused this ending, this unspeakable tragedy of the barren waterless plain. he had witnessed it all before, and hoped now for little. the anxious lieutenant, bareheaded under the hot sun-glare, strode hastily across from beside the unconscious but breathing girl, and stood gazing doubtfully down upon them. "any life, sergeant?" he demanded, his voice rendered husky by sympathy. "he doesn't seem entirely gone, sir," and carson glanced up into the officer's face, his own eyes filled with feeling. "i can distinguish just a wee bit of breathing, but it's so weak the pulse hardly stirs." "what do you make of it?" "starving at the bottom, sir. the only thing i see now is to get them down to water and food." the young officer glanced swiftly about him across that dreary picture of sun-burnt, desolate prairie stretching in every direction, his eyes pausing slightly as they surveyed the tops of the distant cottonwoods. "sling blankets between your horses," he commanded, decisively. "move quickly, lads, and we may save one of these lives yet." he led in the preparation himself, his cheeks flushed, his movements prompt, decisive. as if by some magic discipline the rude, effective litters were rapidly made ready, and the two seemingly lifeless bodies gently lifted from off the ground and deposited carefully within. down the long, brown slope they advanced slowly, a soldier grasping the rein and walking at each horse's head, the supporting blankets, securely fastened about the saddle pommels, swaying gently to the measured tread of the trained animals. the lieutenant directed every movement, while carson rode ahead, picking out the safest route through the short grass. beneath the protecting shadows of the first group of cottonwoods, almost on the banks of the muddy bear water, the little party let down their senseless burdens, and began once more their seemingly hopeless efforts at resuscitation. a fire was hastily kindled from dried and broken branches, and broth was made, which was forced through teeth that had to be pried open. water was used unsparingly, the soldiers working with feverish eagerness, inspired by the constant admonitions of their officer, as well as their own curiosity to learn the facts hidden behind this tragedy. [illustration: they advanced slowly, the supporting blankets swaying gently to the measured tread.] it was the dark eyes of the girl which opened first, instantly closing again as the glaring light swept into them. then slowly, and with wonderment, she gazed up into those strange, rough faces surrounding her, pausing in her first survey to rest her glance on the sympathetic countenance of the young lieutenant, who held her half reclining upon his arm. "here," he exclaimed, kindly, interpreting her glance as one of fear, "you are all right and perfectly safe now, with friends to care for you. peters, bring another cup of that broth. now, miss, just take a sup or two of this, and your strength will come back in a jiffy. what was the trouble? starving?" she did exactly as he bade her, every movement mechanical, her eyes fastened upon his face. "i--i reckon that was partly it," she responded at last, her voice faint and husky. then her glance wandered away, and finally rested upon another little kneeling group a few yards farther down stream. a look of fresh intelligence swept into her face. "is that him?" she questioned, tremblingly. "is--is he dead?" "he was n't when we first got here, but mighty near gone, i'm afraid. i've been working over you ever since." she shook herself free and sat weakly up, her lips tight compressed, her eyes apparently blind to all save that motionless body she could barely distinguish. "let me tell you, that fellow's a man, just the same; the gamest, nerviest man i ever saw. i reckon he got hit, too, though he never said nothing about it. that's his style." the deeply interested lieutenant removed his watchful eyes from off his charge just long enough to glance inquiringly across his shoulder. "has the man any signs of a wound, sergeant?" he asked, loudly. "a mighty ugly slug in the shoulder, sir; has bled scandalous, but i guess it 's the very luck that's goin' to save him; seems now to be comin' out all right." the officer's brows knitted savagely. "it begins to look as if this might be some of our business. what happened? indians?" "yes." "how far away?" "i don't know. they caught us in a canyon somewhere out yonder, maybe three or four days ago; there was a lot killed, some of them soldiers. my dad was shot, and then that night he--he got me out up the rocks, and he--he was carrying me in his arms when i--i fainted, i saw there was blood on his shirt, and it was dripping down on the grass as he walked. that's about all i know." "who is the man? what's his name?" the girl looked squarely into the lieutenant's eyes, and, for some reason which she could never clearly explain even to herself, lied calmly. "i don't know; i never asked." sergeant carson rose stiffly from his knees beside the extended figure and strode heavily across toward where they were sitting, lifting his hand in soldierly salute, his heels clicking as he brought them sharply together in military precision. "the fellow is getting his eyes open, sir," he reported, "and is breathing more regular. purty weak yit, but he'll come round in time." he stared curiously down at the girl now sitting up unsupported, while a sudden look of surprised recognition swept across his face. "great guns!" he exclaimed, eagerly, "but i know you. you're old man gillis's gal from bethune, ain't ye?" the quickly uplifted dark eyes seemed to lighten the ghastly pallor of her face, and her lips trembled. "yes," she acknowledged simply, "but he's dead." the lieutenant laid his ungloved hand softly on her shoulder, his blue eyes moist with aroused feeling. "never mind, little girl," he said, with boyish sympathy. "i knew gillis, and, now the sergeant has spoken, i remember you quite well. thought all the time your face was familiar, but could n't quite decide where i had seen you before. so poor old gillis has gone, and you are left all alone in the world! well, he was an old soldier, could not have hoped to live much longer anyway, and would rather go fighting at the end. we 'll take you back with us to bethune, and the ladies of the garrison will look after you." the recumbent figure lying a few yards away half lifted itself upon one elbow, and hampton's face, white and haggard, stared uncertainly across the open space. for an instant his gaze dwelt upon the crossed sabres shielding the gilded " " on the front of the lieutenant's scouting hat, then settled upon the face of the girl. with one hand pressed against the grass he pushed himself slowly up until he sat fronting them, his teeth clinched tight, his gray eyes gleaming feverishly in their sunken sockets. "i'll be damned if you will!" he said, hoarsely. "she 's my girl now." chapter v a new proposition to one in the least inclined toward fastidiousness, the miners' home at glencaid would scarcely appeal as a desirable place for long-continued residence. but such a one would have had small choice in the matter, as it chanced to be the only hotel there. the miners' home was unquestionably unique as regards architectural details, having been constructed by sections, in accordance with the rapid development of the camp, and enjoyed the further distinction--there being only two others equally stylish in town--of being built of sawn plank, although, greatly to the regret of its unfortunate occupants, lack of seasoning had resulted in wide cracks in both walls and stairway. these were numerous, and occasionally proved perilous pitfalls to unwary travellers through the ill-lighted hall, while strict privacy within the chambers was long ago a mere reminiscence. however, these deficiencies were to be discovered only after entering. without, the miners' home put up a good front,--which along the border is considered the chief matter of importance,--and was in reality the most pretentious structure gracing the single cluttered street of glencaid. indeed, it was pointed at with much civic pride by those citizens never compelled to exist within its yawning walls, and, with its ornament of a wide commodious porch, appeared even palatial in comparison with the log stable upon its left flank, or the dingy tent whose worm-eaten canvas flapped dejectedly upon the right. directly across the street, its front a perfect blaze of glass, stood invitingly the occidental saloon; but the widow guffy, who operated the miners' home with a strong hand, possessed an antipathy to strong liquor, which successfully kept all suspicion of intoxicating drink absent from those sacredly guarded precincts, except as her transient guests imported it internally, in the latter case she naturally remained quiescent, unless the offender became unduly boisterous. on such rare occasions mrs. guffy had always proved equal to the emergency, possessing irish facility with either tongue or club. mr. hampton during the course of his somewhat erratic career had previously passed several eventful weeks in glencaid. he was neither unknown nor unappreciated at the miners' home, and having on previous occasions established his reputation as a spender, experienced little difficulty now in procuring promptly the very best accommodation which the house afforded. that this arrangement was accomplished somewhat to the present discomfort of two vociferous eastern tourists did not greatly interfere with his pleasurable interest in the situation. "send those two fellows in here to argue it out," he said, languidly, after listening disgustedly to their loud lamentations in the hallway, and addressing his remarks to mrs. guffy, who had glanced into the room to be again assured regarding his comfort, and to express her deep regret over the unseemly racket. "the girl has fallen asleep, and i 'm getting tired of hearing so much noise." "no, be hivings, an' ye don't do nuthin' of thet sort, bob," returned the widow, good-naturedly, busying herself with a dust-rag. "this is me own house, an' oi've tended ter the loikes of them sort er fellers afore. there'll be no more bother this toime. besides, it's a paceful house oi'm runnin', an' oi know ye'r way of sittling them things. it's too strenurous ye are, misther hampton. and what did ye do wid the young lady, oi make bould to ask?" hampton carelessly waved his hand toward the rear room, the door of which stood ajar, and blew a thick cloud of smoke into the air, his eyes continuing to gaze dreamily through the open window toward the distant hills. "who's running the game over at the occidental?" he asked, professionally. "red slavin, bad cess to him!" and her eyes regarded her questioner with renewed anxiety. "but sure now, bob, ye mustn't think of playin' yit awhoile. yer narves are in no fit shape, an' won't be fer a wake yit." he made no direct reply, and she hung about, flapping the dust-rag uneasily. "an' what did ye mane ter be doin' wid the young gyurl?" she questioned at last, in womanly curiosity. hampton wheeled about on the hard chair, and regarded her quizzingly. "mrs. guffy," he said, slowly, "you've been a mother to me, and it would certainly be unkind not to give you a straight tip. do? why, take care of her, of course. what else would you expect of one possessing my kindly disposition and well-known motives of philanthropy? can it be that i have resided with you, off and on, for ten years past without your ever realizing the fond yearnings of my heart? mrs. guffy, i shall make her the heiress to my millions; i shall marry her off to some eastern nabob, and thus attain to that high position in society i am so well fitted to adorn--sure, and what else were you expecting, mrs. guffy?" "a loikely story," with a sniff of disbelief. "they tell me she 's old gillis's daughter over to bethune." "they tell you, do they?" a sudden gleam of anger darkening his gray eyes. "who tell you?" "sure, bob, an' thet 's nuthin' ter git mad about, so fur as i kin see. the story is in iverybody's mouth. it wus thim sojers what brought ye in thet tould most ov it, but the lieutenant,--brant of the seventh cavalry, no less,--who took dinner here afore he wint back after the dead bodies, give me her name." "brant of the seventh?" he faced her fairly now, his face again haggard and gray, all the slight gleam of fun gone out of it. "was that the lad's name?" "sure, and didn't ye know him?" "no; i noticed the ' ' on his hat, of course, but never asked any questions, for his face was strange. i didn't know. the name, when you just spoke it, struck me rather queer. i--i used to know a brant in the seventh, but he was much older; it was not this man." she answered something, lingering for a moment at the door, but he made no response, and she passed out silently, leaving him staring moodily through the open window, his eyes appearing glazed and sightless. glencaid, like most mining towns of its class, was dull and dead enough during the hours of daylight. it was not until after darkness fell that it awoke from its somnolence, when the scattered miners came swarming down from out the surrounding hills and turned into a noisy, restless playground the single narrow, irregular street. then it suddenly became a mad commixture of babel and hell. at this hour nothing living moved within range of the watcher's vision except a vagrant dog; the heat haze hung along the near-by slopes, while a little spiral of dust rose lazily from the deserted road. but hampton had no eyes for this dreary prospect; with contracted brows he was viewing again that which he had confidently believed to have been buried long ago. finally, he stepped quickly across the little room, and, standing quietly within the open doorway, looked long at the young girl upon the bed. she lay in sound, motionless sleep, one hand beneath her cheek, her heavy hair, scarcely revealing its auburn hue in the gloom of the interior, flowing in wild disorder across the crushed pillow. he stepped to the single window and drew down the green shade, gazed at her again, a new look of tenderness softening his stern face, then went softly out and closed the door. an hour later he was still sitting on the hard chair by the window, a cigar between his teeth, thinking. the lowering sun was pouring a perfect flood of gold across the rag carpet, but he remained utterly unconscious as to aught save the gloomy trend of his own awakened memories. some one rapped upon the outer door. "come in," he exclaimed, carelessly, and barely glancing up. "well, what is it this time, mrs. guffy?" the landlady had never before seen this usually happy guest in his present mood, and she watched him curiously. "a man wants ter see ye," she announced, shortly, her hand on the knob. "oh, i'm in no shape for play to-night; go back and tell him so." "sure, an' it's aisy 'nough ter see thet wid half an eye. but this un isn't thet koind of a man, an' he's so moighty perlite about it oi jist cud n't sind the loikes of him away. it's 'missus guffy, me dear madam, wud ye be koind enough to convey me complimints to misther robert hampton, and requist him to grant me a few minutes of his toime on an important matter?' sure, an' what do ye think of thet?" "huh! one of those fellows who had these rooms?" and hampton rose to his feet with animation. the landlady lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "it's the reverend howard wynkoop," she announced, impressively, dwelling upon the name. "the reverend howard wynkoop, the prasbytarian missionary--wouldn't thet cork ye?" it evidently did, for mr. hampton stared at her for fully a minute in an amazement too profound for fit expression in words. then he swallowed something in his throat. "show the gentleman up," he said, shortly, and sat down to wait. the rev. howard wynkoop was neither giant nor dwarf, but the very fortunate possessor of a countenance which at once awakened confidence in his character. he entered the room quietly, rather dreading this interview with one of mr. hampton's well-known proclivities, yet in this case feeling abundantly fortified in the righteousness of his cause. his brown eyes met the inquisitive gray ones frankly, and hampton waved him silently toward a vacant chair. "our lines of labor in this vineyard being so entirely opposite," the latter said, coldly, but with intended politeness, "the honor of your unexpected call quite overwhelms me. i shall have to trouble you to speak somewhat softly in explanation of your present mission, so as not to disturb a young girl who chances to be sleeping in the room beyond." wynkoop cleared his throat uneasily, his naturally pale cheeks flushed. "it was principally upon her account i ventured to call," he explained in sudden confidence. "might i see her?" hampton's watchful eyes swept the others face suspiciously, and his hands clinched. "relative?" he asked gravely. the preacher shook his head. "friend of the family, perhaps?" "no, mr. hampton. my purpose in coming here is perfectly proper, yet the request was not advanced as a right, but merely as a special privilege." a moment hampton hesitated; then he arose and quietly crossed the room, holding open the door. without a word being spoken the minister followed, and stood beside him. for several minutes the eyes of both men rested upon the girl's sleeping form and upturned face. then wynkoop drew silently back, and hampton closed the door noiselessly. "well," he said, inquiringly, "what does all this mean?" the minister hesitated as if doubtful how best to explain the nature of his rather embarrassing mission, his gaze upon the strong face of the man fronting him so sternly. "let us sit down again," he said at last, "and i will try to make my purpose sufficiently clear. i am not here to mince words, nor do i believe you to be the kind of a man who would respect me if i did. i may say something that will not sound pleasant, but in the cause of my master i cannot hesitate. you are an older man than i, mr. hampton; your experience in life has doubtless been much broader than mine, and it may even be that in point of education you are likewise my superior. nevertheless, as the only minister of the gospel residing in this community it is beyond question my plain duty to speak a few words to you in behalf of this young lady, and her probable future. i trust not to be offensive, yet cannot shirk the requirements of my sacred office." the speaker paused, somewhat disconcerted perhaps by the hardening of the lines in hampton's face. "go on," commanded hampton, tersely, "only let the preacher part slide, and say just what you have to say as man to man." wynkoop stiffened perceptibly in his chair, his face paling somewhat, but his eyes unwavering. realizing the reckless nature before him, he was one whom opposition merely inspired. "i prefer to do so," he continued, more calmly. "it will render my unpleasant task much easier, and yield us both a more direct road for travel. i have been laboring on this field for nearly three years. when i first came here you were pointed out to me as a most dangerous man, and ever since then i have constantly been regaled by the stories of your exploits. i have known you merely through such unfriendly reports, and came here strongly prejudiced against you as a representative of every evil i war against. we have never met before, because there seemed to be nothing in common between us; because i had been led to suppose you to be an entirely different man from what i now believe you are." hampton stirred uneasily in his chair. "shall i paint in exceedingly plain words the picture given me of you?" there was no response, but the speaker moistened his lips and proceeded firmly. "it was that of a professional gambler, utterly devoid of mercy toward his victims; a reckless fighter, who shot to kill upon the least provocation; a man without moral character, and from whom any good action was impossible. that was what was said about you. is the tale true?" hampton laughed unpleasantly, his eyes grown hard and ugly. "i presume it must be," he admitted, with a quick side glance toward the closed door, "for the girl out yonder thought about the same. a most excellent reputation to establish with only ten years of strict attendance to business." wynkoop's grave face expressed his disapproval. "well, in my present judgment that report was not altogether true," he went on clearly and with greater confidence. "i did suppose you exactly that sort of a man when i first came into this room. i have not believed so, however, for a single moment since. nevertheless, the naked truth is certainly bad enough, without any necessity for our resorting to romance. you may deceive others by an assumption of recklessness, but i feel convinced your true nature is not evil. it has been warped through some cause which is none of my business. let us deal alone with facts. you are a gambler, a professional gambler, with all that that implies; your life is, of necessity, passed among the most vicious and degrading elements of mining camps, and you do not hesitate even to take human life when in your judgment it seems necessary to preserve your own. under this veneer of lawlessness you may, indeed, possess a warm heart, mr. hampton; you may be a good fellow, but you are certainly not a model character, even according to the liberal code of the border." "extremely kind of you to enter my rooms uninvited, and furnish me with this list of moral deficiencies," acknowledged the other with affected carelessness. "but thus far you have failed to tell me anything strikingly new. am i to understand you have some particular object in this exchange of amenities?" "most assuredly. it is to ask if such a person as you practically confess yourself to be--homeless, associating only with the most despicable and vicious characters, and leading so uncertain and disreputable a life--can be fit to assume charge of a girl, almost a woman, and mould her future?" for a long, breathless moment hampton stared incredulously at his questioner, crushing his cigar between his teeth. twice he started to speak, but literally choked back the bitter words burning his lips, while an uncontrollable admiration for the other's boldness began to overcome his first fierce anger. "by god!" he exclaimed at last, rising to his feet and pointing toward the door. "i have shot men for less. go, before i forget your cloth. you little impudent fool! see here--i saved that girl from death, or worse; i plucked her from the very mouth of hell; i like her; she 's got sand; so far as i know there is not a single soul for her to turn to for help in all this wide world. and you, you miserable, snivelling hypocrite, you little creeping presbyterian parson, you want me to shake her! what sort of a wild beast do you suppose i am?" wynkoop had taken one hasty step backward, impelled to it by the fierce anger blazing from those stern gray eyes. but now he paused, and, for the only time on record, discovered the conventional language of polite society inadequate to express his needs. "i think," he said, scarcely realizing his own words, "you are a damned fool." into hampton's eyes there leaped a light upon which other men had looked before they died,--the strange mad gleam one sometimes sees in fighting animals, or amid the fierce charges of war. his hand swept instinctively backward, closing upon the butt of a revolver beneath his coat, and for one second he who had dared such utterance looked on death. then the hard lines about the man's mouth softened, the fingers clutching the weapon relaxed, and hampton laid one opened hand upon the minister's shrinking shoulder. "sit down," he said, his voice unsteady from so sudden a reaction. "perhaps--perhaps i don't exactly understand." for a full minute they sat thus looking at each other through the fast dimming light, like two prize-fighters meeting for the first time within the ring, and taking mental stock before beginning their physical argument. hampton, with a touch of his old audacity of manner, was first to break the silence. "so you think i am a damned fool. well, we are in pretty fair accord as to that fact, although no one before has ever ventured to state it quite so clearly in my presence. perhaps you will kindly explain?" the preacher wet his dry lips with his tongue, forgetting himself when his thoughts began to crystallize into expression. "i regret having spoken as i did," he began. "such language is not my custom. i was irritated because of your haste in rejecting my advances before hearing the proposition i came to submit. i certainly respect your evident desire to be of assistance to this young woman, nor have i the slightest intention of interfering between you. your act in preserving her life was a truly noble one, and your loyalty to her interests since is worthy of all christian praise. but i believe i have a right to ask, what do you intend for the future? keep her with you? drag her about from camp to camp? educate her among the contaminating poison of gambling-holes and dance-halls? is her home hereafter to be the saloon and the rough frontier hotel? her ideal of manhood the quarrelsome gambler, and of womanhood a painted harlot? mr. hampton, you are evidently a man of education, of early refinement; you have known better things; and i have come to you seeking merely to aid you in deciding this helpless young woman's destiny. i thought, i prayed, you would be at once interested in that purpose, and would comprehend the reasonableness of my position." hampton sat silent, gazing out of the window, his eyes apparently on the lights now becoming dimly visible in the saloon opposite. for a considerable time he made no move, and the other straightened back in his chair watching him. "well!" he ventured at last, "what is your proposition?" the question was quietly asked, but a slight tremor in the low voice told of repressed feeling. "that, for the present at least, you confide this girl into the care of some worthy woman." "have you any such in mind?" "i have already discussed the matter briefly with mrs. herndon, wife of the superintendent of the golden rule mines. she is a refined christian lady, beyond doubt the most proper person to assume such a charge in this camp. there is very little in such a place as this to interest a woman of her capabilities, and i believe she would be delighted to have such an opportunity for doing good. she has no children of her own." hampton flung his sodden cigar butt out of the window. "i'll talk it over to-morrow with--with miss gillis," he said, somewhat gruffly. "it may be this means a good deal more to me than you suppose, parson, but i 'm bound to acknowledge there is considerable hard sense in what you have just said, and i 'll talk it over with the girl." wynkoop held out his hand cordially, and the firm grasp of the other closed over his fingers. "i don't exactly know why i didn't kick you downstairs," the latter commented, as though still in wonder at himself. "never remember being quite so considerate before, but i reckon you must have come at me in about the right way." if wynkoop answered, his words were indistinguishable, but hampton remained standing in the open door watching the missionary go down the narrow stairs. "nervy little devil," he acknowledged slowly to himself. "and maybe, after all, that would be the best thing for the kid." chapter vi "to be or not to be" they were seated rather close together upon the steep hillside, gazing silently down upon squalid glencaid. at such considerable distance all the dull shabbiness of the mining town had disappeared, and it seemed almost ideal, viewed against the natural background of brown rocks and green trees. all about them was the clear, invigorating air of the uplands, through which the eyes might trace for miles the range of irregular rocky hills, while just above, seemingly almost within touch of the extended hand, drooped the blue circling sky, unflecked by cloud. everywhere was loneliness, no sound telling of the labor of man reached them, and the few scattered buildings far below resembling mere doll-houses. they had conversed only upon the constantly changing beauty of the scene, or of incidents connected with their upward climb, while moving slowly along the trail through the fresh morning sunshine. now they sat in silence, the young girl, with cheeks flushed and dreamy eyes aglow, gazing far off along the valley, the man watching her curiously, and wondering how best to approach his task. for the first time he began to realize the truth, which had been partially borne in upon him the previous evening by wynkoop, that this was no mere child with whom he dealt, but a young girl upon the verge of womanhood. such knowledge began to reveal much that came before him as new, changing the entire nature of their present relationship, as well as the scope of his own plain duty. it was his wont to look things squarely in the face, and unpleasant and unwelcome as was the task now confronting him, during the long night hours he had settled it once for all--the preacher's words were just. observing her now, sitting thus in total unconsciousness of his scrutiny, hampton made no attempt to analyze the depth of his interest for this waif who had come drifting into his life. he did not in the least comprehend why she should have touched his heart with generous impulses, nor did he greatly care. the fact was far the more important, and that fact he no longer questioned. he had been a lonely, unhappy, discontented man for many a long year, shunned by his own sex, who feared him, never long seeking the society of the other, and retaining little real respect for himself. under such conditions a reaction was not unnatural, and, short as the time had been since their first meeting, this odd, straightforward chit of a girl had found an abiding-place in his heart, had furnished him a distinct motive in life before unknown. even to his somewhat prejudiced eyes she was not an attractive creature, for she possessed no clear conception of how to render apparent those few feminine charms she possessed. negligence and total unconsciousness of self, coupled with lack of womanly companionship and guidance, had left her altogether in the rough. he marked now the coarse ragged shoes, the cheap patched skirt, the tousled auburn hair, the sunburnt cheeks with a suggestion of freckles plainly visible beneath the eyes, and some of the fastidiousness of earlier days caused him to shrug his shoulders. yet underneath the tan there was the glow of perfect young health; the eyes were frank, brave, unflinching; while the rounded chin held a world of character in its firm contour. somehow the sight of this brought back to him that abiding faith in her "dead gameness" which had first awakened his admiration. "she's got it in her," he thought, silently, "and, by thunder! i 'm here to help her get it out." "kid," he ventured at last, turning over a broken fragment of rock between his restless fingers, but without lifting his eyes, "you were talking while we came up the trail about how we 'd do this and that after a while. you don't suppose i 'm going to have any useless girl like you hanging around on to me, do you?" she glanced quickly about at him, as though such unexpected expressions startled her from a pleasant reverie. "why, i--i thought that was the way you planned it yesterday," she exclaimed, doubtfully. "oh, yesterday! well, you see, yesterday i was sort of dreaming; to-day i am wide awake, and i 've about decided, kid, that for your own good, and my comfort, i 've got to shake you." a sudden gleam of fierce resentment leaped into the dark eyes, the unrestrained glow of a passion which had never known control. "oh, you have, have you, mister bob hampton? you have about decided! well, why don't you altogether decide? i don't think i'm down on my knees begging you for mercy. good lord! i reckon i can get along all right without you--i did before. just what happened to give you such a change of heart?" "i made the sudden discovery," he said, affecting a laziness he was very far from feeling, "that you were too near being a young woman to go traipsing around the country with me, living at shacks, and having no company but gambling sharks, and that class of cattle." "oh, did you? what else?" "only that our tempers don't exactly seem to jibe, and the two of us can't be bosses in the same ranch." she looked at him contemptuously, swinging her body farther around on the rock, and sitting stiffly, the color on her cheeks deepening through the sunburn. "now see here, mister bob hampton, you're a fraud, and you know it! did n't i understand exactly who you was, and what was your business? did n't i know you was a gambler, and a 'bad man'? didn't i tell you plain enough out yonder,"--and her voice faltered slightly,--"just what i thought about you? good lord! i have n't been begging to stick with you, have i? i just didn't know which way to turn, or who to turn to, after dad was killed, and you sorter hung on to me, and i let it go the way i supposed you wanted it. but i 'm not particularly stuck on your style, let me tell you, and i reckon there 's plenty of ways for me to get along. only first, i propose to understand what your little game is. you don't throw down your hand like that without some reason." hampton sat up, spurred into instant admiration by such independence of spirit. "you grow rather good-looking, kid, when you get hot, but you go at things half-cocked, and you 've got to get over it. that's the whole trouble--you 've never been trained, and i would n't make much of a trainer for a high-strung filly like you. ever remember your mother?" "mighty little; reckon she must have died when i was about five years old. that's her picture." hampton took in his hand the old-fashioned locket she held out toward him, the long chain still clasped about her throat, and pried open the stiff catch with his knife blade. she bent down to fasten her loosened shoe, and when her eyes were uplifted again his gaze was riveted upon the face in the picture. "mighty pretty, wasn't she?" she asked with a sudden girlish interest, bending forward to look, regardless of his strained attitude. "and she was prettier than that even, the way i remember her best, with her hair all hanging down, coming to tuck me into bed at night. someway that's how i always seem to see her." the man drew a deep breath, and snapped shut the locket, yet still retained it in his hand. "is--is she dead?" he questioned, and his voice trembled in spite of steel nerves. "yes, in st. louis; dad took me there with him two years ago, and i saw her grave." "dad? do you mean old gillis?" she nodded, beginning dimly to wonder why he should speak so fiercely and stare at her in that odd way. he seemed to choke twice before he could ask the next question. "did he--old gillis, i mean--claim to be your father, or her husband?" "no, i don't reckon he ever did, but he gave me that picture, and told me she was my mother. i always lived with him, and called him dad. i reckon he liked it, and he was mighty good to me. we were at randolph a long time, and since then he's been post-trader at bethune. that's all i know about it, for dad never talked very much, and he used to get mad when i asked him questions." hampton dropped the locket from his grasp, and arose to his feet. for several minutes he stood with his back turned toward her, apparently gazing down the valley, his jaw set, his dimmed eyes seeing nothing. slowly the color came creeping back into his face, and his hands unclinched. then he wheeled about, and looked down upon her, completely restored to his old nature. "then it seems that it is just you and i, kid, who have got to settle this little affair," he announced, firmly. "i 'll have my say about it, and then you can uncork your feelings. i rather imagine i have n't very much legal right in the premises, but i 've got a sort of moral grip on you by reason of having pulled you out alive from that canyon yonder, and i propose to play this game to the limit. you say your mother is dead, and the man who raised you is dead, and, so far as either of us know, there is n't a soul anywhere on earth who possesses any claim over you, or any desire to have. then, naturally, the whole jack-pot is up to me, provided i 've got the cards. now, kid, waving your prejudice aside, i ain't just exactly the best man in this world to bring up a girl like you and make a lady out of her. i thought yesterday that maybe we might manage to hitch along together for a while, but i 've got a different think coming to-day. there 's no use disfiguring the truth. i 'm a gambler, something of a fighter on the side, and folks don't say anything too pleasant about my peaceful disposition around these settlements; i have n't any home, and mighty few friends, and the few i have got are nothing to boast about. i reckon there 's a cause for it all. so, considering everything, i 'm about the poorest proposition ever was heard of to start a young ladies' seminary. the lord knows old gillis was bad enough, but i 'm a damned sight worse. now, some woman has got to take you in hand, and i reckon i 've found the right one." "goin' to get married, bob?" "not this year; it's hardly become so serious as that, but i 'm going to find you a good home here, and i 'm going to put up plenty of stuff, so that they 'll take care of you all right and proper." the dark eyes never wavered as they looked steadily into the gray ones, but the chin quivered slightly. "i reckon i 'd rather try it alone," she announced stubbornly. "maybe i might have stood it with you, bob hampton, but a woman is the limit." hampton in other and happier days had made something of a study of the feminine nature, and he realized now the utter impracticability of any attempt at driving. "i expect it will go rather hard at first, kid," he admitted craftily, "but i think you might try it a while just to sort of please me." "who--who is she?" doubtfully. "mrs. herndon, wife of the superintendent of the 'golden rule' mine"; and he waved his hand toward the distant houses. "they tell me she's a mighty fine woman." "oh, they do? then somebody's been stirring you up about me, have they? i thought that was about the way of it. somebody wants to reform me, i reckon. well, maybe i won't be reformed. who was it, bob?" "the presbyterian missionary," he confessed reluctantly, "a nervy little chap named wynkoop; he came in to see me last night while you were asleep." he faced her open scorn unshrinkingly, his mind fully decided, and clinging to one thought with all the tenacity of his nature. "a preacher!" her voice vibrant with derision, "a preacher! well, of all things, bob hampton! you led around by the nose in that way! did he want you to bring me to sunday school? a preacher! and i suppose the fellow expects to turn me over to one of his flock for religious instruction. he'll have you studying theology inside of a year. a preacher! oh, lord, and you agreed! well, i won't go; so there!" "as i understand the affair," hampton continued, as she paused for breath, "it was lieutenant brant who suggested the idea of his coming to me. brant knew gillis, and remembered you, and realizing your unpleasant situation, thought such an arrangement would be for your benefit." "brant!" she burst forth in renewed anger; "he did, did he! the putty-faced dandy! i used to see him at bethune, and you can bet he never bothered his head about me then. no, and he didn't even know me out yonder, until after the sergeant spoke up. what business has that fellow got planning what i shall do?" hampton made no attempt to answer. it was better to let her indignation die out naturally, and so he asked a question. "what is this brant doing at bethune? there is no cavalry stationed there." she glanced up quickly, interested by the sudden change in his voice. "i heard dad say he was kept there on some special detail. his regiment is stationed at fort lincoln, somewhere farther north. he used to come down and talk with dad evenings, because daddy saw service in the seventh when it was first organized after the war." "did you--did you ever hear either of them say anything about major alfred brant? he must have been this lad's father." "no, i never heard much they said. did you know him?" "the father, yes, but that was years ago. come, kid, all this is only ancient history, and just as well forgotten. now, you are a sensible girl, when your temper don't get away with you, and i am simply going to leave this matter to your better judgment. will you go to mrs. herndon's, and find out how you like it? you need n't stop there an hour if she is n't good to you, but you ought not to want to remain with me, and grow up like a rough boy." "you--you really want me to go, don't you?" "yes, i want you to go. it's a chance for you, kid, and there is n't a bit of a show in the kind of a life i lead. i never have been in love with it myself, and only took to it in the first place because the devil happened to drive me that way. the lord knows i don't want to lead any one else through such a muck. so it is a try?" the look of defiance faded slowly out of her face as she stood gravely regarding him. the man was in deadly earnest, and she felt the quiet insistence of his manner. he really desired it to be decided in this way, and somehow his will had become her law, although such a suspicion had never once entered her mind. "you bet, if you put it that way," she consented, simply, "but i reckon that mrs. herndon is likely to wish i hadn't." together, yet scarcely exchanging another word, the two retraced their steps slowly down the steep trail leading toward the little town in the valley, walking unconsciously the pathway of fate, the way of all the world. chapter vii "i've come here to live" widely as these two companions differed in temperament and experience, it would be impossible to decide which felt the greater uneasiness at the prospect immediately before them. the girl openly rebellious, the man extremely doubtful, with reluctant steps they approached that tall, homely yellow house--outwardly the most pretentious in glencaid--which stood well up in the valley, where the main road diverged into numerous winding trails leading toward the various mines among the foothills. they were so completely opposite, these two, that more than one chance passer-by glanced curiously toward them as they picked their way onward through the red dust. hampton, slender yet firmly knit, his movements quick like those of a watchful tiger, his shoulders set square, his body held erect as though trained to the profession of arms, his gray eyes marking every movement about him with a suspicion born of continual exposure to peril, his features finely chiselled, with threads of gray hair beginning to show conspicuously about the temples. one would glance twice at him anywhere, for in chin, mouth, and eyes were plainly pictured the signs of strength, evidences that he had fought stern battles, and was no craven. for good or evil he might be trusted to act instantly, and, if need arose, to the very death. his attire of fashionably cut black cloth, and his immaculate linen, while neat and unobtrusive, yet appeared extremely unusual in that careless land of clay-baked overalls and dingy woollens. beside him, in vivid contrast, the girl trudged in her heavy shoes and bedraggled skirts, her sullen eyes fastened doggedly on the road, her hair showing ragged and disreputable in the brilliant sunshine. hampton himself could not remain altogether indifferent to the contrast. "you look a little rough, kid, for a society call," he said. "if there was any shebang in this mud-hole of a town that kept any women's things on sale fit to look at, i 'd be tempted to fix you up a bit." "well, i'm glad of it," she responded, grimly. "i hope i look so blame tough that woman won't say a civil word to us. you can bet i ain't going to strain myself to please the likes of her." "you certainly exhibit no symptoms of doing so," he admitted, frankly. "but you might, at least, have washed your face and fixed your hair." she flashed one angry glance at him, stopping in the middle of the road, her head flung back as though ready for battle. then, as if by some swift magic of emotion, her expression changed. "and so you're ashamed of me, are you?" she asked, her voice sharp but unsteady. "ashamed to be seen walking with me? darn it! i know you are! but i tell you, mr. bob hampton, you won't be the next time. and what's more, you just don't need to traipse along another step with me now. i don't want you. i reckon i ain't very much afraid of tackling this presbyterian woman all alone." she swung off fiercely, and the man chuckled softly as he followed, watchfully, through the circling, red dust cloud created by her hasty feet. the truth is, mr. hampton possessed troubles and scruples of his own in connection with this contemplated call. he had never met the lady; indeed, he could recall very few of her sex, combining respectability and refinement, whom he had met during the past ten years. but he retained some memory of the husband as having been associated with a strenuous poker game at placer, in which he also held a prominent place, and it would seem scarcely possible that the wife did not know whose bullet had turned her for some weeks into a sick-nurse. for herndon he had not even a second thought, but the possible ordeal of a woman's tongue was another matter. a cordial reception could hardly be anticipated, and hampton mentally braced himself for the worst. there were some other things, also, but these he brushed aside for the present. he was not the sort of man to wear his heart upon his sleeve, and all his life long he had fought out his more serious battles in loneliness and silence. now he had work to accomplish in the open; he was going to stay with the kid--after that, _quien sabe_? so he smiled somewhat soberly, swore softly to himself, and strode on. he had never yet thrown down his cards merely because luck had taken a bad turn. it was a cheerless-looking house, painted a garish yellow, having staring windows, and devoid of a front porch, or slightest attempt at shade to render its uncomely front less unattractive. hampton could scarcely refrain from forming a mental picture of the woman who would most naturally preside within so unpolished an abode--an angular, hard-featured, vinegar-tempered creature, firm settled in her prejudices and narrowed by her creed. had the matter been left at that moment to his own decision, this glimpse of the house would have turned them both back, but the girl unhesitatingly pressed forward and turned defiantly in through the gateless opening. he followed in silence along the narrow foot-path bordered by weeds, and stood back while she stepped boldly up on the rude stone slab and rapped sharply against the warped and sagging door. a moment they stood thus waiting with no response from within. once she glanced suspiciously around at him, only to wheel back instantly and once more apply her knuckles to the wood. before he had conjured up something worth saying the door was partially opened, and a rounded dumpling of a woman, having rosy cheeks, her hair iron-gray, her blue eyes half smiling in uncertain welcome, looked out upon them questioningly. "i 've come to live here," announced the girl, sullenly. "that is, if i like it." the woman continued to gaze at her, as if tempted to laugh outright; then the pleasant blue eyes hardened as their vision swept beyond toward hampton. "it is extremely kind of you, i 'm sure," she said at last. "why is it i am to be thus honored?" the girl backed partially off the doorstep, her hair flapping in the wind, her cheeks flushed. "oh, you need n't put on so much style about it," she blurted out. "you 're mrs. herndon, ain't you? well, then, this is the place where i was sent; but i reckon you ain't no more particular about it than i am. there's others." "who sent you to me?" and mrs. herndon came forth into the sunshine. "the preacher." "oh, mr. wynkoop; then you must be the homeless girl whom lieutenant brant brought in the other day. why did you not say so at first? you may come in, my child." there was a sympathetic tenderness apparent now in the tones of her voice, which the girl was swift to perceive and respond to, yet she held back, her independence unshaken. with the quick intuition of a woman, mrs. herndon bent down, placing one hand on the defiant shoulder. "i did not understand, at first, my dear," she said, soothingly, "or i should never have spoken as i did. some very strange callers come here. but you are truly welcome. i had a daughter once; she must have been nearly your age when god took her. won't you come in?" while thus speaking she never once glanced toward the man standing in silence beyond, yet as the two passed through the doorway together he followed, unasked. once within the plainly furnished room, and with her arm about the girl's waist, the lines about her mouth hardened. "i do not recall extending my invitation to you," she said, coldly. he remained standing, hat in hand, his face shadowed, his eyes picturing deep perplexity. "for the intrusion i offer my apology," he replied, humbly; "but you see i--i feel responsible for this young woman. she--sort of fell to my care when none of her own people were left to look after her. i only came to show her the way, and to say that i stand ready to pay you well to see to her a bit, and show her how to get hold of the right things." "indeed!" and mrs. herndon's voice was not altogether pleasant. "i understood she was entirely alone and friendless. are you that man who brought her out of the canyon?" hampton bowed as though half ashamed of acknowledging the act. "oh! then i know who you are," she continued, unhesitatingly. "you are a gambler and a bar-room rough. i won't touch a penny of your money. i told mr. wynkoop that i shouldn't, but that i would endeavor to do my christian duty by this poor girl. he was to bring her here himself, and keep you away." the man smiled slightly, not in the least disconcerted by her plain speech. the cutting words merely served to put him on his mettle. "probably we departed from the hotel somewhat earlier than the minister anticipated," he explained, quietly, his old ease of manner returning in face of such open opposition. "i greatly regret your evident prejudice, madam, and can only say that i have more confidence in you than you appear to have in me. i shall certainly discover some means by which i may do my part in shaping this girl's future, but in the meanwhile will relieve you of my undesired presence." he stepped without into the glare of the sunlight, feeling utterly careless as to the woman who had affronted him, yet somewhat hurt on seeing that the girl had not once lifted her downcast eyes to his face. yet he had scarcely taken three steps toward the road before she was beside him, her hand upon his sleeve. "i won't stay!" she exclaimed, fiercely, "i won't, bob hampton. i 'd rather go with you than be good." his sensitive face flushed with delight, but he looked gravely down into her indignant eyes. "oh, yes, you will, kid," and his hand touched her roughened hair caressingly. "she's a good, kind woman, all right, and i don't blame her for not liking my style." "do--do you really want me to stick it out here, bob?" it was no small struggle for him to say so, for he was beginning to comprehend just what this separation meant. she was more to him than he had ever supposed, more to him than she had been even an hour before; and now he understood clearly that from this moment they must ever run farther apart--her life tending upward, his down. yet there was but one decision possible. a life which is lonely and dissatisfied, a wasted life, never fully realizes how lonely, dissatisfied, and wasted it is until some new life, beautiful in young hope and possibility, comes into contact with it. for a single instant hampton toyed with the temptation confronting him, this opportunity of brightening his own miserable future by means of her degradation. then he answered, his voice grown almost harsh. "this is your best chance, little girl, and i want you to stay and fight it out." their eyes met, each dimly realizing, although in a totally different way, that here was a moment of important decision. mrs. herndon darkened the doorway, and stood looking out. "well, mr. bob hampton," she questioned, plainly, "what is this going to be?" he glanced toward her, slightly lifting his hat, and promptly releasing the girl's clinging hand. "miss gillis consents to remain," he announced shortly, and, denying himself so much as another glance at his companion, strode down the narrow path to the road. a moment the girl's eyes followed him through the dust cloud, a single tear stealing down her cheek. only a short week ago she had utterly despised this man, now he had become truly more to her than any one else in the wide, wide world. she did not in the least comprehend the mystery; indeed, it was no mystery, merely the simple trust of a child naturally responding to the first unselfish love given it. perhaps mrs. herndon dimly understood, for she came forth quietly, and led the girl, now sobbing bitterly, within the cool shadows of the house. chapter viii a last revolt it proved a restless day, and a sufficiently unpleasant one, for mr. hampton. for a number of years he had been diligently training himself in the school of cynicism, endeavoring to persuade himself that he did not in the least care what others thought, nor how his own career ended; impelling himself to constant recklessness in life and thought. he had thus successfully built up a wall between the present and that past which long haunted his lonely moments, and had finally decided that it was hermetically sealed. yet now, this odd chit of a girl, this waif whom he had plucked from the jaws of death, had overturned this carefully constructed barrier as if it had been originally built of mere cardboard, and he was compelled again to see himself, loathe himself, just as he had in those past years. everything had been changed by her sudden entrance into his life, everything except those unfortunate conditions which still bound him helpless. he looked upon the world no longer through his cool, gray eyes, but out of her darker ones, and the prospect appeared gloomy enough. he thought it all over again and again, dwelling in reawakened memory upon details long hidden within the secret recesses of his brain, yet so little came from this searching survey that the result left him no plan for the future. he had wandered too far away from home; the path leading back was long ago overgrown with weeds, and could not now be retraced. one thing he grasped clearly,--the girl should be given her chance; nothing in his life must ever again soil her or lower her ideals. mrs. herndon was right, and he realized it; neither his presence nor his money were fit to influence her future. he swore between his clinched teeth, his face grown haggard. the sun's rays bridged the slowly darkening valley with cords of red gold, and the man pulled himself to his feet by gripping the root of a tree. he realized that he had been sitting there for hours, and that he was hungry. down beneath, amid the fast awakening noise and bustle of early evening, the long discipline of the gambler reasserted itself--he got back his nerve. it was bob hampton, cool, resourceful, sarcastic of speech, quick of temper, who greeted the loungers about the hotel, and who sat, with his back to the wall, in the little dining-room, watchful of all others present. and it was bob hampton who strolled carelessly out upon the darkened porch an hour later, leaving a roar of laughter behind him, and an enemy as well. little he cared for that, however, in his present mood, and he stood there, amid the black shadows, looking contemptuously down upon the stream of coatless humanity trooping past on pleasure bent, the blue smoke circling his head, his gray eyes glowing half angrily. suddenly he leaned forward, clutching the rail in quick surprise. "kid," he exclaimed, harshly, "what does this mean? what are you doing alone here?" she stopped instantly and glanced up, her face flushing in the light streaming forth from the open door of the occidental. "i reckon i 'm alone here because i want to be," she returned, defiantly. "i ain't no slave. how do you get up there?" he extended his hand, and drew her up beside him into the shaded corner. "well," he said, "tell me the truth." "i 've quit, that's all, bob. i just couldn't stand for reform any longer, and so i 've come back here to you." the man drew a deep breath. "did n't you like mrs. herndon?" "oh, she 's all right enough, so far as that goes. 't ain't that; only i just didn't like some things she said and did." "kid," and hampton straightened up, his voice growing stern. "i 've got to know the straight of this. you say you like mrs. herndon well enough, but not some other things. what were they?" the girl hesitated, drawing back a little from him until the light from the saloon fell directly across her face. "well," she declared, slowly, "you see it had to be either her or--or you, bob, and i 'd rather it would be you." "you mean she said you would have to cut me out entirely if you stayed there with her?" she nodded, her eyes filled with entreaty. "yes, that was about it. i wasn't ever to have anything more to do with you, not even to speak to you if we met--and after you 'd saved my life, too." "never mind about that little affair, kid," and hampton rested his hand gently on her shoulder. "that was all in the day's work, and hardly counts for much anyhow. was that all she said?" "she called you a low-down gambler, a gun-fighter, a--a miserable bar-room thug, a--a murderer. she--she said that if i ever dared to speak to you again, bob hampton; that i could leave her house. i just could n't stand for that, so i came away." hampton never stirred, his teeth set deep into his cigar, his hands clinched about the railing. "the fool!" he muttered half aloud, then caught his breath quickly. "now see here, kid," and he turned her about so that he might look down into her eyes, "i 'm mighty glad you like me well enough to put up a kick, but if all this is true about me, why should n't she say it? do you believe that sort of a fellow would prove a very good kind to look after a young lady?" "i ain't a young lady!" "no; well, you 're going to be if i have my way, and i don't believe the sort of a gent described would be very apt to help you much in getting there." "you ain't all that." "well, perhaps not. like an amateur artist, madam may have laid the colors on a little thick. but i am no winged angel, kid, nor exactly a model for you to copy after. i reckon you better stick to the woman, and cut me." she did not answer, yet he read an unchanged purpose in her eyes, and his own decision strengthened. some instinct led him to do the right thing; he drew forth the locket from beneath the folds of her dress, holding it open to the light. he noticed now a name engraven on the gold case, and bent lower to decipher it. "was her name naida? it is an uncommon word." "yes." "and yours also?" "yes." their eyes met, and those of both had perceptibly softened. "naida," his lips dwelt upon the peculiar name as though he loved the sound. "i want you to listen to me, child. i sincerely wish i might keep you here with me, but i can't. you are more to me than you dream, but it would not be right for me thus deliberately to sacrifice your whole future to my pleasure. i possess nothing to offer you,--no home, no friends, no reputation. practically i am an outlaw, existing by my wits, disreputable in the eyes of those who are worthy to live in the world. she, who was your mother, would never wish you to remain with me. she would say i did right in giving you up into the care of a good woman. naida, look on that face in the locket, your mother's face. it is sweet, pure, beautiful, the face of a good, true woman. living or dead, it must be the prayer of those lips that you become a good woman also. she should lead you, not i, for i am unworthy. for her sake, and in her name, i ask you to go back to mrs. herndon." he could perceive the gathering tears in her eyes, and his hand closed tightly about her own. it was not one soul alone that struggled. "you will go?" "o bob, i wish you wasn't a gambler!" a moment he remained silent. "but unfortunately i am," he admitted, soberly, "and it is best for you to go back. won't you?" her gaze was fastened upon the open locket, the fair face pictured there smiling up at her as though in pleading also. "you truly think she would wish it?" "i know she would." the girl gave utterance to a quick, startled breath, as if the vision frightened her. "then i will go," she said, her voice a mere whisper, "i will go." he led her down the steps, out into the jostling crowd below, as if she had been some fairy princess. men occasionally spoke to him, but seemingly he heard nothing, pressing his way through the mass of moving figures in utter unconsciousness of their presence. her locket hung dangling, and he slipped it back into its place and drew her slender form yet closer against his own, as they stepped forth into the black, deserted road. once, in the last faint ray of light which gleamed from the windows of the miners' retreat, she glanced up shyly into his face. it was white and hard set, and she did not venture to break the silence. half-way up the gloomy ravine they met a man and woman coming along the narrow path. hampton drew her aside out of their way, then spoke coldly. "mrs. herndon, were you seeking your lost charge? i have her here." the two passing figures halted, peering through the darkness. "who are you?" it was the gruff voice of the man. hampton stepped out directly in his path. "herndon," he said, calmly, "you and i have clashed once before, and the less you have to say to-night the better. i am in no mood for trifling, and this happens to be your wife's affair." "madam," and he lifted his hat, holding it in his hand, "i am bringing back the runaway, and she has now pledged herself to remain with you." "i was not seeking her," she returned, icily. "i have no desire to cultivate the particular friends of mr. hampton." "so i have understood, and consequently relinquish here and now all claims upon miss gillis. she has informed me of your flattering opinion regarding me, and i have indorsed it as being mainly true to life. miss gillis has been sufficiently shocked at thus discovering my real character, and now returns in penitence to be reared according to the admonitions of the presbyterian faith. do i state this fairly, naida?" "i have come back," she faltered, fingering the chain at her throat, "i have come back." "without bob hampton?" the girl glanced uneasily toward him, but he stood motionless in the gloom. "yes--i--i suppose i must." hampton rested his hand softly upon her shoulder, his fingers trembling, although his voice remained coldly deliberate. "i trust this is entirely satisfactory, mrs. herndon," he said. "i can assure you i know absolutely nothing regarding her purpose of coming to me tonight. i realize quite clearly my own deficiencies, and pledge myself hereafter not to interfere with you in any way. you accept the trust, i believe?" she gave utterance to a deep sigh of resignation. "it comes to me clearly as a christian duty," she acknowledged, doubtfully, "and i suppose i must take up my cross; but--" "but you have doubts," he interrupted. "well, i have none, for i have greater faith in the girl, and--perhaps in god. good-night, naida." he bowed above the hand the girl gave him in the darkness, and ever after she believed he bent lower, and pressed his lips upon it. the next moment the black night had closed him out, and she stood there, half frightened at she knew not what, on the threshold of her new life. chapter ix at the occidental hampton slowly picked his way back through the darkness down the silent road, his only guide those dim yellow lights flickering in the distance. he walked soberly, his head bent slightly forward, absorbed in thought. suddenly he paused, and swore savagely, his disgust at the situation bursting all bounds; yet when he arrived opposite the beam of light streaming invitingly forth from the windows of the first saloon, he was whistling softly, his head held erect, his cool eyes filled with reckless daring. it was saturday night, and the mining town was already alive. the one long, irregular street was jammed with constantly moving figures, the numerous saloons ablaze, the pianos sounding noisily, the shuffling of feet in the crowded dance-halls incessant. fakers were everywhere industriously hawking their useless wares and entertaining the loitering crowds, while the roar of voices was continuous. cowboys from the wide plains, miners from the hidden gulches, ragged, hopeful prospectors from the more distant mountains, teamsters, and half-naked indians, commingled in the restless throng, passing and repassing from door to door, careless in dress, rough in manner, boisterous in language. here and there amid this heterogeneous population of toilers and adventurers, would appear those attired in the more conventional garb of the east,--capitalists hunting new investments, or chance travellers seeking to discover a new thrill amid this strange life of the frontier. everywhere, brazen and noisy, flitted women, bold of eye, painted of cheek, gaudy of raiment, making mock of their sacred womanhood. riot reigned unchecked, while the quiet, sleepy town of the afternoon blossomed under the flickering lights into a saturnalia of unlicensed pleasure, wherein the wages of sin were death. hampton scarcely noted this marvellous change; to him it was no uncommon spectacle. he pushed his way through the noisy throng with eyes ever watchful for the faces. his every motion was that of a man who had fully decided upon his course. through the widely opened doors of the occidental streams of blue and red shirted men were constantly flowing in and out; a band played strenuously on the wide balcony overhead, while beside the entrance a loud-voiced "barker" proclaimed the many attractions within. hampton swung up the broad wooden steps and entered the bar-room, which was crowded by jostling figures, the ever-moving mass as yet good-natured, for the night was young. at the lower end of the long, sloppy bar he stopped for a moment to nod to the fellow behind. "anything going on to-night worth while, jim?" he questioned, quietly. "rather stiff game, they tell me, just started in the back room," was the genial reply. "two eastern suckers, with red slavin sitting in." the gambler passed on, pushing rather unceremoniously through the throng of perspiring humanity. he appeared out of place amid the rough element jostling him, and more than one glanced at him curiously, a few swearing as he elbowed them aside. scarcely noticing this, he drew a cigar from his pocket, and stuck it unlighted between his teeth. the large front room upstairs was ablaze with lights, every game in full operation and surrounded by crowds of devotees. tobacco smoke in clouds circled to the low ceiling, and many of the players were noisy and profane, while the various calls of faro, roulette, keno, and high-ball added to the confusion and to the din of shuffling feet and excited exclamations. hampton glanced about superciliously, shrugging his shoulders in open contempt--all this was far too coarse, too small, to awaken his interest. he observed the various faces at the tables--a habit one naturally forms who has desperate enemies in plenty--and then walked directly toward the rear of the room. a thick, dingy red curtain hung there; he held back its heavy folds and stepped within the smaller apartment beyond. three men sat at the single table, cards in hand, and hampton involuntarily whistled softly behind his teeth at the first glimpse of the money openly displayed before them. this was apparently not so bad for a starter, and his waning interest revived. a red-bearded giant, sitting so as to face the doorway, glanced up quickly at his entrance, his coarse mouth instantly taking on the semblance of a smile. "ah, bob," he exclaimed, with an evident effort at cordiality; "been wondering if you wouldn't show up before the night was over. you're the very fellow to make this a four-handed affair, provided you carry sufficient stuff." hampton came easily forward into the full glow of the swinging oil lamp, his manner coolly deliberate, his face expressionless. "i feel no desire to intrude," he explained, quietly, watching the uplifted faces. "i believe i have never before met these gentlemen." slavin laughed, his great white fingers drumming the table. "it is an acquaintance easily made," he said, "provided one can afford to trot in their class, for it is money that talks at this table to-night. mr. hampton, permit me to present judge hawes, of denver, and mr. edgar willis, president of the t. p. & r. i have no idea what they are doing in this hell-hole of a town, but they are dead-game sports, and i have been trying my best to amuse them while they're here." hampton bowed, instantly recognizing the names. "glad to assist," he murmured, sinking into a vacant chair. "what limit?" "we have had no occasion to discuss that matter as yet," volunteered hawes, sneeringly. "however, if you have scruples we might settle upon something within reason." hampton ran the undealt pack carelessly through his fingers, his lips smiling pleasantly. "oh, never mind, if it chances to go above my pile i 'll drop out. meanwhile, i hardly believe there is any cause for you to be modest on my account." the play opened quietly and with some restraint, the faces of the men remaining impassive, their watchful glances evidencing nothing either of success or failure. hampton played with extreme caution for some time, his eyes studying keenly the others about the table, seeking some deeper understanding of the nature of his opponents, their strong and weak points, and whether or not there existed any prior arrangement between them. he was there for a purpose, a clearly defined purpose, and he felt no inclination to accept unnecessary chances with the fickle goddess of fortune. to one trained in the calm observation of small things, and long accustomed to weigh his adversaries with care, it was not extremely difficult to class the two strangers, and hampton smiled softly on observing the size of the rolls rather ostentatiously exhibited by them. he felt that his lines had fallen in pleasant places, and looked forward with serene confidence to the enjoyment of a royal game, provided only he exercised sufficient patience and the other gentlemen possessed the requisite nerve. his satisfaction was in noways lessened by the sound of their voices, when incautiously raised in anger over some unfortunate play. he immediately recognized them as the identical individuals who had loudly and vainly protested over his occupancy of the best rooms at the hotel. he chuckled grimly. but what bothered him particularly was slavin. the cool gray eyes, glancing with such apparent negligence across the cards in his hands, noted every slight movement of the red-bearded gambler, in expectation of detecting some sign of trickery, or some evidence that he had been selected by this precious trio for the purpose of easy plucking. knavery was slavin's style, but apparently he was now playing a straight game, no doubt realizing clearly, behind his impassive mask of a face, the utter futility of seeking to outwit one of hampton's enviable reputation. it was, unquestionably, a fairly fought four-handed battle, and at last, thoroughly convinced of this, hampton settled quietly down, prepared to play out his game. the hours rolled on unnoted, the men tireless, their faces immovable, the cards dealt silently. the stakes grew steadily larger, and curious visitors, hearing vague rumors without, ventured in, to stand behind the chairs of the absorbed players and look on. now and then a startled exclamation evidenced the depth of their interest and excitement, but at the table no one spoke above a strained whisper, and no eye ventured to wander from the board. several times drinks were served, but hampton contented himself with a gulp of water, always gripping an unlighted cigar between his teeth. he was playing now with apparent recklessness, never hesitating over a card, his eye as watchful as that of a hawk, his betting quick, confident, audacious. the contagion of his spirit seemed to affect the others, to force them into desperate wagers, and thrill the lookers-on. the perspiration was beading slavin's forehead, and now and then an oath burst unrestrained from his hairy lips. hawes and willis sat white-faced, bent forward anxiously over the table, their fingers shaking as they handled the fateful cards, but hampton played without perceptible tremor, his utterances few and monosyllabic, his calm face betraying not the faintest emotion. and he was steadily winning. occasionally some other hand drew in the growing stock of gold and bank notes, but not often enough to offset those continued gains that began to heap up in such an alluring pile upon his portion of the table. the watchers began to observe this, and gathered more closely about his chair, fascinated by the luck with which the cards came floating into his hands, the cool judgment of his critical plays, the reckless abandon with which he forced success. the little room was foul with tobacco smoke and electric with ill-repressed excitement, yet he played on imperturbably, apparently hearing nothing, seeing nothing, his entire personality concentrated on his play. suddenly he forced the fight to a finish. the opportunity came in a jack-pot which hawes had opened. the betting began with a cool thousand. then hampton's turn came. without drawing, his cards yet lying face downward before him on the board, his calm features as immovable as the sphinx, he quietly pushed his whole accumulated pile to the centre, named the sum, and leaned back in his chair, his eyes cold, impassive. hawes threw down his hand, wiping his streaming face with his handkerchief; willis counted his remaining roll, hesitated, looked again at the faces of his cards, flung aside two, drawing to fill, and called loudly for a show-down, his eyes protruding. slavin, cursing fiercely under his red beard, having drawn one card, his perplexed face instantly brightening as he glanced at it, went back into his hip pocket for every cent he had, and added his profane demand for a chance at the money. a fortune rested on the table, a fortune the ownership of which was to be decided in a single moment, and by the movement of a hand. the crowd swayed eagerly forward, their heads craned over to see more clearly, their breathing hushed. willis was gasping, his whole body quivering; slavin was watching hampton's hands as a cat does a mouse, his thick lips parted, his fingers twitching nervously. the latter smiled grimly, his motions deliberate, his eyes never wavering. slowly, one by one, he turned up his cards, never even deigning to glance downward, his entire manner that of unstudied indifference. one--two--three. willis uttered a snarl like a stricken wild beast, and sank back in his chair, his eyes closed, his cheeks ghastly. four. slavin brought down his great clenched fist with a crash on the table, a string of oaths bursting unrestrained from his lips. five. hampton, never stirring a muscle, sat there like a statue, watching. his right hand kept hidden beneath the table, with his left he quietly drew in the stack of bills and coin, pushing the stuff heedlessly into the side pocket of his coat, his gaze never once wandering from those stricken faces fronting him. then he softly pushed back his chair and stood erect. willis never moved, but slavin rose unsteadily to his feet, gripping the table fiercely with both hands. "gentlemen," said hampton, gravely, his clear voice sounding like the sudden peal of a bell, "i can only thank you for your courtesy in this matter, and bid you all good-night. however, before i go it may be of some interest for me to say that i have played my last game." somebody laughed sarcastically, a harsh, hateful laugh. the speaker whirled, took one step forward; there was the flash of an extended arm, a dull crunch, and red slavin went crashing backward against the wall. as he gazed up, dazed and bewildered, from the floor, the lights glimmered along a blue-steel barrel. "not a move, you red brute," and hampton spurned him contemptuously with his heel. "this is no variety show, and your laughter was in poor taste. however, if you feel particularly hilarious to-night i 'll give you another chance. i said this was my last game; i'll repeat it--_this was my last game_! now, damn you! if you feel like it, laugh!" he swept the circle of excited faces, his eyes glowing like two diamonds, his thin lips compressed into a single straight line. "mr. slavin appears to have lost his previous sense of humor," he remarked, calmly. "i will now make my statement for the third time--_this was my last game_. perhaps some of you gentlemen also may discover this to be amusing." [illustration: "mr. slavin appears to have lost his previous sense of humor," he remarked, calmly.] the heavy, strained breathing of the motionless crowd was his only answer, and a half smile of bitter contempt curled hampton's lips, as he swept over them a last defiant glance. "not quite so humorous as it seemed to be at first, i reckon," he commented, dryly. "slavin," and he prodded the red giant once more with his foot, "i'm going out; if you make any attempt to leave this room within the next five minutes i 'll kill you in your tracks, as i would a mad dog. you stacked cards twice to-night, but the last time i beat you fairly at your own game." he held aside the heavy curtains with his left hand and backed slowly out facing them, the deadly revolver shining ominously in the other. not a man moved: slavin glowered at him from the floor, an impotent curse upon his lips. then the red drapery fell. while the shadows of the long night still hung over the valley, naida, tossing restlessly upon her strange bed within the humble yellow house at the fork of the trails, was aroused to wakefulness by the pounding of a horse's hoofs on the plank bridge spanning the creek. she drew aside the curtain and looked out, shading her eyes to see clearer through the poor glass. all she perceived was a somewhat deeper smudge when the rider swept rapidly past, horse and man a shapeless shadow. three hours later she awoke again, this time to the full glare of day, and to the remembrance that she was now facing a new life. as she lay there thinking, her eyes troubled but tearless, far away on the sun-kissed uplands hampton was spurring forward his horse, already beginning to exhibit signs of weariness. bent slightly over the saddle pommel, his eyes upon these snow-capped peaks still showing blurred and distant, he rode steadily on, the only moving object amid all that wide, desolate landscape. _part ii_ what occurred in glencaid chapter i the arrival of miss spencer there was a considerable period when events of importance in glencaid's history were viewed against the background of the opening of its first school. this was not entirely on account of the deep interest manifested in the cause of higher education by the residents, but owing rather to the personality of the pioneer school-teacher, and the deep, abiding impress which she made upon the community. miss phoebe spencer came direct to glencaid from the far east, her starting-point some little junction place back in vermont, although she proudly named boston as her home, having once visited in that metropolis for three delicious weeks. she was of an ardent, impressionable nature. her mind was nurtured upon eastern conceptions of our common country, her imagination aglow with weird tales of the frontier, and her bright eyes perceived the vivid coloring of romance in each prosaic object west of the tawny missouri. all appeared so different from that established life to which she had grown accustomed,--the people, the country, the picturesque language,--while her brain so teemed with lurid pictures of border experiences and heroes as to reveal romantic possibilities everywhere. the vast, mysterious west, with its seemingly boundless prairies, grand, solemn mountains, and frankly spoken men peculiarly attired and everywhere bearing the inevitable "gun," was to her a newly discovered world. she could scarcely comprehend its reality. as the apparently illimitable plains, barren, desolate, awe-inspiring, rolled away behind, mile after mile, like a vast sea, and left a measureless expanse of grim desert between her and the old life, her unfettered imagination seemed to expand with the fathomless blue of the western sky. as her eager eyes traced the serrated peaks of a snow-clad mountain range, her heart throbbed with anticipation of wonders yet to come. homesickness was a thing undreamed of; her active brain responded to each new impression. she sat comfortably ensconced in the back seat of the old, battered red coach, surrounded by cushions for protection from continual jouncing, as the jehu in charge urged his restive mules down the desolate valley of the bear water. her cheeks were flushed, her wide-open eyes filled with questioning, her pale fluffy hair frolicking with the breeze, as pretty a picture of young womanhood as any one could wish to see. nor was she unaware of this fact. during the final stage other long journey she had found two congenial souls, sufficiently picturesque to harmonize with her ideas of wild western romance. these two men were lolling in the less comfortable seat opposite, secretly longing for a quiet smoke outside, yet neither willing to desert this eastern divinity to his rival. the big fellow, his arm run carelessly through the leather sling, his bare head projecting half out of the open window, was jack moffat, half-owner of the "golden rule," and enjoying a well-earned reputation as the most ornate and artistic liar in the territory. for two hours he had been exercising his talent to the full, and merely paused now in search of some fresh inspiration, holding in supreme and silent contempt the rather feeble imitations of his less-gifted companion. it is also just to add that mr. moffat personally formed an ideal accompaniment to his vivid narrations of adventure, and he was fully aware of the fact that miss spencer's appreciative eyes wandered frequently in his direction, noting his tanned cheeks, his long silky mustache, the somewhat melancholy gleam of his dark eyes--hiding beyond doubt some mystery of the past, the nature of which was yet to be revealed. mr. moffat, always strong along this line of feminine sympathy, felt newly inspired by these evidences of interest in his tales, and by something in miss spencer's face which bespoke admiration. the fly in the ointment of this long day's ride, the third party, whose undesirable presence and personal knowledge of mr. moffat's past career rather seriously interfered with the latter's flights of imagination, was william mcneil, foreman of the "bar v" ranch over on sinsiniwa creek. mcneil was not much of a talker, having an impediment in his speech, and being a trifle bashful in the presence of a lady. but he caught the eye,--a slenderly built, reckless fellow, smoothly shaven, with a strong chin and bright laughing eyes,--and as he lolled carelessly back in his bearskin "chaps" and wide-brimmed sombrero, occasionally throwing in some cool, insinuating comment regarding moffat's recitals, the latter experienced a strong inclination to heave him overboard. the slight hardening of mcneil's eyes at such moments had thus far served, however, as sufficient restraint, while the unobservant miss spencer, unaware of the silent duel thus being conducted in her very presence, divided her undisguised admiration, playing havoc with the susceptible heart of each, and all unconsciously laying the foundations for future trouble. "why, how truly remarkable!" she exclaimed, her cheeks glowing. "it's all so different from the east; heroism seems to be in the very air of this country, and your adventure was so very unusual. don't you think so, mr. mcneil?" the silent foreman hitched himself suddenly upright, his face unusually solemn. "why--eh--yes, miss--you might--eh--say that. he," with a flip of his hand toward the other, "eh--reminds me--of--eh--an old friend." "indeed? how extremely interesting!" eagerly scenting a new story. "please tell me who it was, mr. mcneil." "oh--eh--knew him when i was a boy--eh--munchausen." mr. moffat drew in his head violently, with an exclamation nearly profane, yet before he could speak miss spencer intervened. "munchausen! why, mr. mcneil, you surely do not intend to question the truth of mr. moffat's narrative?" the foreman's eyes twinkled humorously, but the lines of his face remained calmly impassive. "my--eh--reference," he explained, gravely, "was--eh--entirely to the--eh--local color, the--eh--expert touches." "oh!" "yes, miss. it's--eh--bad taste out here to--eh--doubt anybody's word--eh--publicly." moffat stirred uneasily, his hand flung behind him, but mcneil was gazing into the lady's fair face, apparently unconscious of any other presence. "but all this time you have not favored me with any of your own adventures, mr. mcneil. i am very sure you must have had hundreds out on these wide plains." the somewhat embarrassed foreman shook his head discouragingly. "oh, but i just know you have, only you are so modest about recounting them. now, that scar just under your hair--really it is not at all unbecoming--surely that reveals a story. was it caused by an indian arrow?" mcneil crossed his legs, and wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand. "hoof of a damn pack-mule," he explained, forgetting himself. "the--eh--cuss lifted me ten feet." moffat laughed hoarsely, but as the foreman straightened up quickly, the amazed girl joined happily in, and his own face instantly exhibited the contagion. "ain't much--eh--ever happens out on a ranch," he said, doubtfully, "except dodgin' steers, and--eh--bustin' broncoes." "your blame mule story," broke in moffat, who had at last discovered his inspiration, "reminds me of a curious little incident occurring last year just across the divide. i don't recall ever telling it before, but it may interest you, miss spencer, as illustrative of one phase of life in this country. a party of us were out after bear, and one night when i chanced to be left all alone in camp, i did n't dare fall asleep and leave everything unguarded, as the indians were all around as thick as leaves on a tree. so i decided to sit up in front of the tent on watch. along about midnight, i suppose, i dropped off into a doze, for the first thing i heard was the hee-haw of a mule right in my ear. it sounded like a clap of thunder, and i jumped up, coming slap-bang against the brute's nose so blamed hard it knocked me flat; and then, when i fairly got my eyes open, i saw five sioux indians creeping along through the moonlight, heading right toward our pony herd. i tell you things looked mighty skittish for me just then, but what do you suppose i did with 'em?" "eh--eat 'em, likely," suggested mcneil, thoughtfully, "fried with plenty of--eh--salt; heard they were--eh--good that way." mr. moffat half rose to his feet. "you damn--" "o mr. mcneil, how perfectly ridiculous!" chimed in miss spencer. "please do go on, mr. moffat; it is so exceedingly interesting." the incensed narrator sank reluctantly back into his seat, his eyes yet glowing angrily. "well, i crept carefully along a little gully until i got where them indians were just exactly opposite me in a direct line. i had an awful heavy gun, carrying a slug of lead near as big as your fist. had it fixed up specially fer grizzlies. the fellow creepin' along next me was a tremendous big buck; he looked like a plum giant in that moonlight, and i 'd just succeeded in drawin' a bead on him when a draught of air from up the gully strikin' across the back of my neck made me sneeze, and that buck turned round and saw me. you wouldn't hardly believe what happened." "whole--eh--bunch drop dead from fright?" asked mcneil, solicitously. moffat glared at him savagely, his lips moving, but emitting no sound. "oh, please don't mind," urged his fair listener, her flushed cheeks betraying her interest. "he is so full of his fun. what did follow?" the story-teller swallowed something in his throat, his gaze still on his persecutor. "no, sir," he continued, hoarsely, "them bucks jumped to their feet with the most awful yells i ever heard, and made a rush toward where i was standing. they was exactly in a line, and i let drive at that first buck, and blame me if that slug didn't go plum through three of 'em, and knock down the fourth. you can roast me alive if that ain't a fact! the fifth one got away, but i roped the wounded fellow, and was a-sittin' on him when the rest of the party got back to camp. jim healy was along, and he'll tell you the same story." there was a breathless silence, during which mcneil spat meditatively out of the window. "save any--eh--locks of their hair?" he questioned, anxiously. "oh, please don't tell me anything about that!" interrupted miss spencer, nervously. "the whites don't scalp, do they?" "not generally, miss, but i--eh--didn't just know what mr. moffat's--eh--custom was." the latter gentleman had his head craned out of the window once more, in an apparent determination to ignore all such frivolous remarks. suddenly he pointed directly ahead. "there's glencaid now, miss spencer," he said, cheerfully, glad enough of an opportunity to change the topic of conversation. "that's the spire of the new presbyterian church sticking up above the ridge." "oh, indeed! how glad i am to be here safe at last!" "how--eh--did you happen to--eh--recognize the church?" asked mcneil with evident admiration. "you--eh--can't see it from the saloon." moffat disdained reply, and the lurching stage rolled rapidly down the valley, the mules now lashed into a wild gallop to the noisy accompaniment of the driver's whip. the hoofs clattered across the narrow bridge, and, with a sudden swing, all came to a sharp stand, amid a cloud of dust before a naked yellow house. "here 's where you get out, miss," announced the jehu, leaning down from his seat to peer within. "this yere is the herndon shebang." the gentlemen inside assisted miss spencer to descend in safety to the weed-bordered walk, where she stood shaking her ruffled plumage into shape, and giving directions regarding her luggage. then the two gentlemen emerged, moffat bearing a grip-case, a bandbox, and a basket, while mcneil supported a shawl-strap and a small trunk. thus decorated they meekly followed her lead up the narrow path toward the front door. the latter opened suddenly, and mrs. herndon bounced forth with vociferous welcome. "why, phoebe spencer, and have you really come! i did n't expect you 'd get along before next week. oh, this seems too nice to see you again; almost as good as going home to vermont. you must be completely tired out." "dear aunt lydia; of course i 'm glad to be here. but i 'm not in the least tired. i 've had such a delightful trip." she glanced around smilingly upon her perspiring cavaliers. "oh, put those things down, gentlemen--anywhere there on the grass; they can be carried in later. it was so kind of you both." "hey, there!" sang out the driver, growing impatient, "if you two gents are aimin' to go down town with this outfit, you'd better be pilin' in lively, fer i can't stay here all day." moffat glanced furtively aside at mcneil, only to discover that individual quietly seated on the trunk. he promptly dropped his own grip. "drive on with your butcher's cart," he called out spitefully. "i reckon it's no special honor to ride to town." the pleasantly smiling young woman glanced from one to the other, her eyes fairly dancing, as the lumbering coach disappeared through the red dust. "how very nice of you to remain," she exclaimed. "aunt lydia, i am so anxious for you to meet my friends, mr. moffat and mr. mcneil. they have been so thoughtful and entertaining all the way up the bear water, and they explained so many things that i did not understand." she swept impulsively down toward them, both hands extended, the bright glances of her eyes bestowed impartially. "i cannot invite you to come into the house now," she exclaimed, sweetly, "for i am almost like a stranger here myself, but i do hope you will both of you call. i shall be so very lonely at first, and you are my earliest acquaintances. you will promise, won't you?" mcneil bowed, painfully clearing his throat, but moffat succeeded in expressing his pleasure with a well-rounded sentence. "i felt sure you would. but now i must really say good-bye for this time, and go in with aunt lydia. i know i must be getting horribly burned out here in this hot sun. i shall always be so grateful to you both." the two radiant knights walked together toward the road, neither uttering a word. mcneil whistled carelessly, and moffat gazed intently at the distant hills. just beyond the gate, and without so much as glancing toward his companion, the latter turned and strode up one of the numerous diverging trails. mcneil halted and stared after him in surprise. "ain't you--eh--goin' on down town?" "i reckon not. take a look at my mine first." mcneil chuckled. "you--eh--better be careful goin' up that--eh--gully," he volunteered, soberly, "the--eh--ghosts of them four--eh--injuns might--eh--haunt ye!" moffat wheeled about as if he had been shot in the back. "you blathering, mutton-headed cowherd!" he yelled, savagely. but mcneil was already nearly out of hearing. chapter ii becoming acquainted once within the cool shadows of the livingroom, mrs. herndon again bethought herself to kiss her niece in a fresh glow of welcome, while the latter sank into a convenient rocker and began enthusiastically expressing her unbounded enjoyment of the west, and of the impressions gathered during her journey. suddenly the elder woman glanced about and exclaimed, laughingly, "why, i had completely forgotten. you have not yet met your room-mate. come out here, naida; this is my niece, phoebe spencer." the girl thus addressed advanced, a slender, graceful figure dressed in white, and extended her hand shyly. miss spencer clasped it warmly, her eyes upon the flushed, winsome face. "and is this naida gillis!" she cried. "i am so delighted that you are still here, and that we are to be together. aunt lydia has written so much about you that i feel as if we must have known each other for years. why, how pretty you are!" naida's cheeks were burning, and her eyes fell, but she had never yet succeeded in conquering the blunt independence of her speech. "nobody else ever says so," she said, uneasily. "perhaps it's the light." miss spencer turned her about so as to face the window. "well, you are," she announced, decisively. "i guess i know; you 've got magnificent hair, and your eyes are perfectly wonderful. you just don't fix yourself up right; aunt lydia never did have any taste in such things, but i 'll make a new girl out of you. let's go upstairs; i 'm simply dying to see our room, and get some of my dresses unpacked. they must look perfect frights by this time." they came down perhaps an hour later, hand in hand, and chattering like old friends. the shades of early evening were already falling across the valley. herndon had returned home from his day's work, and had brought with him the rev. howard wynkoop for supper. miss spencer viewed the young man with approval, and immediately became more than usually vivacious in recounting the incidents of her long journey, together with her early impressions of the western country. mr. wynkoop responded with an interest far from being assumed. "i have found it all so strange, so unique, mr. wynkoop," she explained. "the country is like a new world to me, and the people do not seem at all like those of the east. they lead such a wild, untrammelled life. everything about seems to exhale the spirit of romance; don't you find it so?" he smiled at her enthusiasm, his glance of undisguised admiration on her face. "i certainly recall some such earlier conception," he admitted. "those just arriving from the environment of an older civilization perceive merely the picturesque elements; but my later experiences have been decidedly prosaic." "why, mr. wynkoop! how could they be? your work is heroic. i cannot conceive how any minister of the cross, having within him any of the old apostolic fervor, can consent to spend his days amid the dreary commonplaces of those old, dead eastern churches. you, nobly battling on the frontier, are the true modern crusaders, the knights of the grail. here you are ever in the very forefront of the battle against sin, associated with the argonauts, impressing your faith upon the bold, virile spirits of the age. it is perfectly grand! why the very men i meet seem to yield me a broader conception of life and duty; they are so brave, so modest, so active. is--is mr. moffat a member of your church?" the minister cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening. "mr. moffat? ah, no; not exactly. do you mean the mine-owner, jack moffat?" "yes, i think so; he told me he owned a mine--the golden rule the name was; the very choice in words would seem, to indicate his religious nature. he 's such a pleasant, intelligent man. there is a look in his eyes as though he sorrowed over something. i was in hopes you knew what it was, and i am very sure he would welcome your ministrations. you have the only church in glencaid, i understand, and i wonder greatly he has never joined you. but perhaps he may be prejudiced against your denomination. there is so much narrowness in religion. now, i am an episcopalian myself, but i do not mean to permit that to interfere in any way with my church work out here. i wonder if mr. moffat can be an episcopalian. if he is, i am just going to show him that it is clearly his duty to assist in any christian service. is n't that the true, liberal, western spirit, mr. wynkoop?" "it most assuredly should be," said the young pastor. "i left every prejudice east of the missouri," she declared, laughingly, "every one, social and religious. i 'm going to be a true westerner, from the top of my head to the toe of my shoe. is mr. mcneil in your church?" the minister hesitated. "i really do not recall the name," he confessed at last, reluctantly. "i scarcely think i can have ever met the gentleman." "oh, you ought to; he is so intensely original, and his face is full of character. he reminds me of some old paladin of the middle ages. you would be interested in him at once. he is the foreman of the 'bar v' ranch, somewhere near here." "do you mean billy mcneil, over on sinsiniwa creek?" broke in herndon. "i think quite likely, uncle; would n't he make a splendid addition to mr. wynkoop's church?" herndon choked, his entire body shaking with ill-suppressed enjoyment. "i should imagine yes," he admitted finally. "billy mcneil--oh, lord! there 's certainly a fine opening for you to do some missionary work, phoebe." "well, and i 'm going to," announced the young lady, firmly. "i guess i can read men's characters, and i know all mr. mcneil needs is to have some one show an interest in him. have you a large church, mr. wynkoop?" "not large if judged from an eastern standpoint," he confessed, with some regret. "our present membership is composed of eight women and three men, but the congregational attendance is quite good, and constantly increasing." "only eight women and three men!" breathlessly. "and you have been laboring upon this field for five years! how could it be so small?" wynkoop pushed back his chair, anxious to redeem himself in the estimation of this fair stranger. "miss spencer," he explained, "it is perhaps hardly strange that you should misapprehend the peculiar conditions under which religious labor is conducted in the west. you will undoubtedly understand all this better presently. my parish comprises this entire mining region, and i am upon horseback among the foothills and up in the ranges for fully a third of my time. the spirit of the mining population, as well as of the cattlemen, while not actually hostile, is one of indifference to religious thought. they care nothing whatever for it in the abstract, and have no use for any minister, unless it may be to marry their children or bury their dead. i am hence obliged to meet with them merely as man to man, and thus slowly win their confidence before i dare even approach a religious topic. for three long years i worked here without even a church organization or a building; and apparently without the faintest encouragement. now that we have a nucleus gathered, a comfortable building erected and paid for, with an increasing congregation, i begin to feel that those seemingly barren five years were not without spiritual value." she quickly extended her hands. "oh, it is so heroic, so self-sacrificing! no doubt i was hasty and wrong. but i have always been accustomed to so much larger churches. i am going to help you, mr. wynkoop, in every way i possibly can--i shall certainly speak to both mr. moffat and mr. mcneil the very first opportunity. i feel almost sure that they will join." the unavoidable exigencies of a choir practice compelled mr. wynkoop to retire early, nor was it yet late when the more intimate family circle also dissolved, and the two girls discovered themselves alone. naida drew down the shades and lit the lamp. miss spencer slowly divested herself of her outer dress, replacing it with a light wrapper, encased her feet snugly in comfortable slippers, and proceeded to let down her flossy hair in gleaming waves across her shoulders. naida's dark eyes bespoke plainly her admiration, and miss spencer shook back her hair somewhat coquettishly. "do you think i look nice?" she questioned, smilingly. "you bet i do. your hair is just beautiful, miss spencer." the other permitted the soft strands to slip slowly between her white fingers. "you should never say 'you bet,' naida. such language is not at all lady-like. i am going to call you naida, and you must call me phoebe. people use their given names almost entirely out here in the west, don't they?" "i never have had much training in being a lady," the young girl explained, reddening, "but i can learn. yes, i reckon they do mostly use the first names out here." "please don't say 'i reckon,' either; it has such a vulgar sound. what is his given name?" "whose?" "why, i was thinking of mr. wynkoop." "howard; i saw it written in some books he loaned me. but the people here never address him in that way." "no, i suppose not, only i thought i should like to know what it was." there was a considerable pause; then the speaker asked, calmly, "is he married?" "mr. wynkoop? why, of course not; he does n't care for women in that way at all." miss spencer bound her hair carefully with a bright ribbon. "maybe he might, though, some time. all men do." she sat down in the low rocker, her feet comfortably crossed. "do you know, naida dear, it is simply wonderful to me just to remember what you have been through, and it was so beautifully romantic--everybody killed except you and that man, and then he saved your life. it's such a pity he was so miserable a creature." "he was n't!" naida exclaimed, in sudden, indignant passion. "he was perfectly splendid." "aunt lydia did n't think so. she wrote he was a common gambler,--a low, rough man." "well, he did gamble; nearly everybody does out here. and sometimes i suppose he had to fight, but he wasn't truly bad." miss spencer's eyes evinced a growing interest. "was he real nice-looking?" she asked. naida's voice faltered. "ye--es," she said. "i thought so. he--he looked like he was a man." "how old are you, naida?" "nearly eighteen." miss spencer leaned impulsively forward, and clasped the other's hands, her whole soul responding to this suggestion of a possible romance, a vision of blighted hearts. "why, it is perfectly delightful," she exclaimed. "i had no idea it was so serious, and really i don't in the least blame you. you love him, don't you, naida?" the girl flashed a shy look into the beaming, inquisitive face. "i don't know," she confessed, soberly. "i have not even seen him for such a long time; but--but, i guess, he is more to me than any one else--" "not seen him? do you mean to say mr. hampton is not here in glencaid? why, i am so sorry; i was hoping to meet him." "he went away the same night i came here to live." "and you never even hear from him?" naida hesitated, but the frankly displayed interest of the other won her complete girlish confidence. "not directly, but mr. herndon receives money from him for me. he does n't let your aunt know anything about it, because she got angry and refused to accept any pay from him. he is somewhere over yonder in the black range." miss spencer shook back her hair with a merry laugh, and clasped her hands. "why, it is just the most delightful situation i ever heard about. he is just certain to come back after you, naida. i wouldn't miss being here for anything." they were still sitting there, when the notes of a softly touched guitar stole in through the open window. both glanced about in surprise, but miss spencer was first to recover speech. "a serenade! did you ever!" she whispered. "do you suppose it can be he?" she extinguished the lamp and knelt upon the floor, peering eagerly forth into the brilliant moonlight. "why, naida, what do you think? it's mr. moffat. how beautifully he plays!" naida, her face pressed against the other window, gave vent to a single note of half-suppressed laughter. "there 's going to be something happening," she exclaimed. "oh, miss spencer, come here quick--some one is going to turn on the hydraulic." miss spencer knelt beside her. moffat was still plainly visible, his pale face upturned in the moonlight, his long silky mustaches slightly stirred by the soft air, his fingers touching the strings; but back in the shadows of the bushes was seen another figure, apparently engaged upon some task with feverish eagerness. to miss spencer all was mystery. "what is it?" she anxiously questioned. "the hydraulic," whispered the other. "there 's a big lake up in the hills, and they 've piped the water down here. it 's got a force like a cannon, and that fellow--i don't know whether it is herndon or not--is screwing on the hose connection. i bet your mr. moffat gets a shock!" "it's a perfect shame, an outrage! i 'm going to tell him." naida caught her sleeve firmly, her eyes full of laughter. "oh, please don't, miss spencer. it will be such fun. let's see where it hits him!" for one single instant the lady yielded, and in it all opportunity for warning fled. there was a sharp sizzling, which caused moffat to suspend his serenade; then something struck him,--it must have been fairly in the middle, for he shut up like a jack-knife, and went crashing backwards with an agonized howl. there was a gleam of shining water, something black squirming among the weeds, a yell, a volley of half-choked profanity, and a fleeing figure, apparently pursued by a huge snake. naida shook with laughter, clinging with both hands to the sill, but miss spencer was plainly shocked. "oh, did you hear what--what he said?" she asked. "was n't it awful?" the younger nodded, unable as yet to command her voice. "i--i don't believe he is an episcopalian; do you?" "i don't know. i imagine that might have made even a methodist swear." the puckers began to show about the disapproving mouth, under the contagion of the other's merriment. "wasn't it perfectly ridiculous? but he did play beautifully, and it was so very nice of him to come my first night here. do you suppose that was mr. herndon?" naida shook her head doubtfully. "he looked taller, but i could n't really tell. he 's gone now, and the water is turned off." they lit the lamp once more, discussing the scene just witnessed, while miss spencer, standing before the narrow mirror, prepared her hair for the night. suddenly some object struck the lowered window shade and dropped upon the floor. naida picked it up. "a letter," she announced, "for miss phoebe spencer." "for me? what can it be? why, naida, it is poetry! listen: sweetest flower from off the eastern hills, so lily-like and fair; your very presence stirs and thrills our buoyant western air; the plains grow lovelier in their span, the skies above more blue, while the heart of nature and of man beats quick response for you. "oh, isn't that simply beautiful? and it is signed 'willie'--why, that must be mr. mcneil." "i reckon he copied it out of some book," said naida. "oh, i know he didn't. it possesses such a touch of originality. and his eyes, naida! they have that deep poetical glow!" the light was finally extinguished; the silvery moonlight streamed across the foot of the bed, and the regular breathing of the girls evidenced slumber. chapter iii under orders many an unexpected event has resulted from the formal, concise orders issued by the war department. cupid in the disguise of mars has thus frequently toyed with the fate of men, sending many a gallant soldier forward, all unsuspecting, into a battle of the heart. it was no pleasant assignment to duty which greeted first lieutenant donald brant, commanding troop n, seventh cavalry, when that regiment came once more within the environs of civilization, from its summer exercises in the field. bethune had developed into a somewhat important post, socially as well as from a strictly military standpoint, and numerous indeed were the attractions offered there to any young officer whose duty called him to serve the colors on those bleak dakota prairies. brant frowned at the innocent words, reading them over again with gloomy eyes and an exclamation of unmitigated disgust, yet there was no escaping their plain meaning. trouble was undoubtedly brewing among the sioux, trouble in which the cheyennes, and probably others also, were becoming involved. every soldier patrolling that long northern border recognized the approach of some dire development, some early coup of savagery. restlessness pervaded the indian country; recalcitrant bands roamed the "badlands"; dissatisfied young warriors disappeared from the reservation limits and failed to return; while friendly scouts told strange tales of weird dances amid the brown dakota hills. uneasiness, the spirit of suspected peril, hung like a pall over the plains; yet none could safely predict where the blow might first descend. brant was not blind to all this, nor to the necessity of having in readiness selected bodies of seasoned troops, yet it was not in soldier nature to refrain from grumbling when the earliest detail chanced to fall to him. but orders were orders in that country, and although he crushed the innocent paper passionately beneath his heel, five hours later he was in saddle, riding steadily westward, his depleted troop of horsemen clattering at his heels. up the valley of the bear water, slightly above glencaid,--far enough beyond the saloon radius to protect his men from possible corruption, yet within easy reach of the military telegraph,--they made camp in the early morning upon a wooded terrace overlooking the stage road, and settled quietly down as one of those numerous posts with which the army chiefs sought to hem in the dissatisfied redmen, and learn early the extent of their hostile plans. brant was now in a humor considerably happier than when he first rode forth from bethune. a natural soldier, sincerely ambitious in his profession, anything approximating to active service instantly aroused his interest, while his mind was ever inclined to respond with enthusiasm to the fascination of the plains and the hills across which their march had extended. somewhere along that journey he had dropped his earlier burden of regret, and the spirit of the service had left him cheerfully hopeful of some stern soldierly work. he watched the men of his troop while with quip and song they made comfortable camp; he spoke a few brief words of instruction to the grave-faced first sergeant, and then strolled slowly up the valley, his own affairs soon completely forgotten in the beauty of near-by hills beneath the golden glory of the morning sun. once he paused and looked back upon ugly glencaid, dingy and forlorn even at that distance; then he crossed the narrow stream by means of a convenient log, and clambered up the somewhat steep bank. a heavy fringe of low bushes clung close along the edge of the summit, but a plainly defined path led among their intricacies. he pressed his way through, coming into a glade where sunshine flickered through the overarching branches of great trees, and the grass was green and short, like that of a well-kept lawn. as brant emerged from the underbrush he suddenly beheld a fair vision of young womanhood resting on the grassy bank just before him. she was partially reclining, as if startled by his unannounced approach, her face turned toward him, one hand grasping an open book, the other shading her eyes from the glare of the sun. something in the graceful poise, the piquant, uplifted face, the dark gloss of heavy hair, and the unfrightened gaze held him speechless until the picture had been impressed forever upon his memory. he beheld a girl on the verge of womanhood, fair of skin, the red glow of health flushing her cheeks, the lips parted in surprise, the sleeve fallen back from one white, rounded arm, the eyes honest, sincere, mysterious. she recognized him with a glance, and her lips closed as she remembered how and when they had met before. but there was no answering recollection within his eyes, only admiration--nothing clung about this naiad to remind him of a neglected waif of the garrison. she read all this in his face, and the lines about her mouth changed quickly into a slightly quizzical smile, her eyes brightening. "you should at least have knocked, sir," she ventured, sitting up on the grassy bank, the better to confront him, "before intruding thus uninvited." he lifted his somewhat dingy scouting hat and bowed humbly. "i perceived no door giving warning that i approached such presence, and the first shock of surprise was perhaps as great to me as to you. yet, now that i have blundered thus far, i beseech that i be permitted to venture upon yet another step." she sat looking at him, a trim, soldierly figure, his face young and pleasant to gaze upon, and her dark eyes sensibly softened. "what step?" "to tarry for a moment beside the divinity of this wilderness." she laughed with open frankness, her white teeth sparkling behind the red, parted lips. "perhaps you may, if you will first consent to be sensible," she said, with returning gravity; "and i reserve the right to turn you away whenever you begin to talk or act foolish. if you accept these conditions, you may sit down." he seated himself upon the soft grass ledge, retaining the hat in his hands. "you must be an odd sort of a girl," he commented, soberly, "not to welcome an honest expression of admiration." "oh, was that it? then i duly bow my acknowledgment. i took your words for one of those silly compliments by which men believe they honor women." he glanced curiously aside at her half-averted face. "at first sight i had supposed you scarcely more than a mere girl, but now you speak like a woman wearied of the world, utterly condemning all complimentary phrases." "indeed, no; not if they be sincerely expressed as between man and man." "how is it as between man and woman?" "men generally address women as you started to address me, as if there existed no common ground of serious thought between them. they condescend, they flatter, they indulge in fulsome compliment, they whisper soft nonsense which they would be sincerely ashamed to utter in the presence of their own sex, they act as if they were amusing babies, rather than conversing with intelligent human beings. their own notion seems to be to shake the rattle-box, and awaken a laugh. i am not a baby, nor am i seeking amusement." he glanced curiously at her book. "and yet you condescend to read love stories," he said, smiling. "i expected to discover a treatise on philosophy." "i read whatever i chance to get my hands on, here in glencaid," she retorted, "just as i converse with whoever comes along. i am hopeful of some day discovering a rare gem hidden in the midst of the trash. i am yet young." "you are indeed young," he said, quietly, "and with some of life's lessons still to learn. one is that frankness is not necessarily flippancy, nor honesty harshness. beyond doubt much of what you said regarding ordinary social conversation is true, yet the man is no more to be blamed than the woman. both seek to be entertaining, and are to be praised for the effort rather than censured. a stranger cannot instinctively know the likes and dislikes of one he has just met; he can feel his way only by commonplaces. however, if you will offer me a topic worthy the occasion, in either philosophy, science, or literature, i will endeavor to feed your mind." she uplifted her innocent eyes demurely to his face. "you are so kind. i am deeply interested just now in the japanese conception of the transmigration of souls." "how extremely fortunate! it chances to be my favorite theme, but my mental processes are peculiar, and you must permit me to work up toward it somewhat gradually. for instance, as a question leading that way, how, in the incarnation of this world, do you manage to exist in such a hole of a place?--that is, provided you really reside here." "why, i consider this a most delightful nook." "my reference was to glencaid." "oh! why, i live from within, not without. mind and heart, not environment, make life, and my time is occupied most congenially. i am being faithfully nurtured on the presbyterian catechism, and also trained in the graces of earthly society. these alternate, thus preparing me for whatever may happen in this world or the next." his face pictured bewilderment, but also a determination to persevere. "an interesting combination, i admit. but from your appearance this cannot always have been your home?" "oh, thank you. i believe not always; but i wonder at your being able to discern my superiority to these surroundings. and do you know your questioning is becoming quite personal? does that yield me an equal privilege?" he bowed, perhaps relieved at thus permitting her to assume the initiative, and rested lazily back upon the grass, his eyes intently studying her face. "i suppose from your clothes you must be a soldier. what is that figure on your hat for?" "the number of my regiment, the seventh cavalry." her glance was a bit disdainful as she coolly surveyed him from head to foot, "i should imagine that a strong, capable-appearing fellow like you might do much better than that. there is so much work in the world worth doing, and so much better pay." "what do you mean? is n't a soldier's life a worthy one?" "oh, yes, of course, in a way. we have to have soldiers, i suppose; but if i were a man i 'd hate to waste all my life tramping around at sixteen dollars a month." he smothered what sounded like a rough ejaculation, gazing into her demure eyes as if she strongly suspected a joke hid in their depths. "do--do you mistake me for an enlisted man?" "oh, i did n't know; you said you were a soldier, and that's what i always heard they got. i am so glad if they give you more. i was only going to say that i believed i could get you a good place in mccarthy's store if you wanted it. he pays sixty-five dollars, and his clerk has just left." brant stared at her with open mooch, totally unable for the moment to decide whether or not that innocent, sympathetic face masked mischief. before he succeeded in regaining confidence and speech, she had risen to her feet, holding back her skirt with one hand. "really, i must go," she announced calmly, drawing back toward the slight opening between the rushes. "no doubt you have done fully as well as you could considering your position in life; but this has proved another disappointment. you have fallen, far, very far, below my ideal. good-bye." he sprang instantly erect, his cheeks flushed. "please don't go without a farther word. we seem predestined to misunderstand. i am even willing to confess myself a fool in the hope of some time being able to convince you otherwise. you have not even told me that you live here; nor do i know your name." she shook her head positively, repressed merriment darkening her eyes and wrinkling the corners of her mouth. "it would be highly improper to introduce myself to a stranger--we presbyterians never do that." "but do you feel no curiosity as to who i may be?" "why, not in the least; the thought is ridiculous. how very conceited you must be to imagine such a thing!" he was not a man easily daunted, nor did he recall any previous embarrassment in the presence of a young woman. but now he confronted something utterly unique; those quiet eyes seemed to look straight through him. his voice faltered sadly, yet succeeded in asking: "are we, then, never to meet again? am i to understand this to be your wish?" she laughed. "really, sir, i am not aware that i have the slightest desire in the matter. i have given it no thought, but i presume the possibility of our meeting again depends largely upon yourself, and the sort of society you keep. surely you cannot expect that i would seek such an opportunity?" he bowed humbly. "you mistake my purpose. i merely meant to ask if there was not some possibility of our again coming together socially the presence of mutual friends." "oh, i scarcely think so; i do not remember ever having met any soldiers at the social functions here--excepting officers. we are extremely exclusive in glencaid," she dropped him a mocking courtesy, "and i have always moved in the most exclusive set." piqued by her tantalizing manner, he asked, "what particular social functions are about to occur that may possibly open a passage into your guarded presence?" she seemed immersed in thought, her face turned partially aside. "unfortunately, i have not my list of engagements here," and she glanced about at him shyly. "i can recall only one at present, and i am not even certain--that is, i do not promise--to attend that. however, i may do so. the miners' bachelor club gives a reception and ball to-morrow evening in honor of the new schoolmistress." "what is her name?" with responsive eagerness. she hesitated, as if doubtful of the strict propriety of mentioning it to a stranger. "miss phoebe spencer," she said, her eyes cast demurely down. "ah!" he exclaimed, in open triumph; "and have i, then, at last made fair capture of your secret? you are miss phoebe spencer." she drew back still farther within the recesses of the bushes, at his single victorious step forward. "i? why certainly not. i am merely miss spencer's 'star' pupil, so you may easily judge something of what her superior attainments must necessarily be. but i am really going now, and i sincerely trust you will be able to secure a ticket for to-morrow night; for if you once meet this miss spencer you will never yield another single thought to me, mr.--mr.--" her eyes dancing with laughter--"first lieutenant donald brant." chapter iv silent murphy brant sprang forward, all doubt regarding this young woman instantly dissipated by those final words of mischievous mockery. she had been playing with him as unconcernedly as if he were a mere toy sent for her amusement, and his pride was stung. but pursuit proved useless. like a phantom she had slipped away amid the underbrush, leaving him to flounder blindly in the labyrinth. once she laughed outright, a clear burst of girlish merriment ringing through the silence, and he leaped desperately forward, hoping to intercept her flight. his incautious foot slipped along the steep edge of the shelving bank, and he went down, half stumbling, half sliding, until he came to a sudden pause on the brink of the little stream. the chase was ended, and he sat up, confused for the moment, and half questioning the evidence of his own eyes. a small tent, dirty and patched, stood with its back against the slope of earth down which he had plunged. its flap flung aside revealed within a pile of disarranged blankets, together with some scattered articles of wearing apparel, while just before the opening, his back pressed against the supporting pole, an inverted pipe between his yellow, irregular teeth, sat a hideous looking man. he was a withered, dried-up fellow, whose age was not to be guessed, having a skin as yellow as parchment, drawn in tight to the bones like that of a mummy, his eyes deep sunken like wells, and his head totally devoid of hair, although about his lean throat there was a copious fringe of iron-gray beard, untrimmed and scraggy. down the entire side of one cheek ran a livid scar, while his nose was turned awry. he sat staring at the newcomer, unwinking, his facial expression devoid of interest, but his fingers opening and closing in apparent nervousness. twice his lips opened, but nothing except a peculiar gurgling sound issued from the throat, and brant, who by this time had attained his feet and his self-possession, ventured to address him. "nice quiet spot for a camp," he remarked, pleasantly, "but a bad place for a tumble." the sunken eyes expressed nothing, but the throat gurgled again painfully, and finally the parted lips dropped a detached word or two. "blame--pretty girl--that." the lieutenant wondered how much of their conversation this old mummy had overheard, but he hesitated to question him. one inquiry, however, sprang to his surprised lips. "do you know her?" "damn sight--better--than any one around here--know her--real name." brant stared incredulously. "do you mean to insinuate that that young woman is living in this community under an assumed one? why, she is scarcely more than a child! what do you mean, man?" the soldier's hat still rested on the grass where it had fallen, its military insignia hidden. "i guess--i know--what i--know," the fellow muttered. "what 's--your--regiment?" "seventh cavalry." the man stiffened up as if an electric shock had swept through his limp frame. "the hell!--and--did--she--call you--brant?" the young officer's face exhibited his disgust. beyond doubt that sequestered nook was a favorite lounging spot for the girl, and this disreputable creature had been watching her for some sinister purpose. "so you have been eavesdropping, have you?" said brant, gravely. "and now you want to try a turn at defaming a woman? well, you have come to a poor market for the sale of such goods. i am half inclined to throw you bodily into the creek. i believe you are nothing but a common liar, but i 'll give you one chance--you say you know her real name. what is it?" the eyes of the mummy had become spiteful. "it's--none of--your damn--business. i'm--not under--your orders." "under my orders! of course not; but what do you mean by that? who and what are you?" the fellow stood up, slightly hump-backed but broad of shoulder, his arms long, his legs short and somewhat bowed, his chin protruding impudently, and brant noticed an oddly shaped black scar, as if burned there by powder, on the back of his right hand. "who--am i?" he said, angrily. "i'm--silent--murphy." an expression of bewilderment swept across the lieutenant's face. "silent murphy! do you claim to be custer's scout?" the fellow nodded. "heard--of me--maybe?" brant stood staring at him, his mind occupied with vague garrison rumors connected with this odd personality. the name had long been a familiar one, and he had often had the man pictured out before him, just such a wizened face and hunched-up figure, half crazed, at times malicious, yet keen and absolutely devoid of fear; acknowledged as the best scout in all the indian country, a daring rider, an incomparable trailer, tireless, patient, and as tricky and treacherous as the wily savages he was employed to spy upon. there could remain no reasonable doubt of his identity, but what was he doing there? what purpose underlay his insinuations against that young girl? if this was indeed silent murphy, he assuredly had some object in being there, and however hastily he may have spoken, it was not altogether probable that he deliberately lied. all this flashed across his mind in that single instant of hesitation. "yes, i've heard of you,"--and his crisp tone instinctively became that of terse military command,--"although we have never met, for i have been upon detached service ever since my assignment to the regiment. i have a troop in camp below," he pointed down the stream, "and am in command here." the scout nodded carelessly. "why did you not come down there, and report your presence in this neighborhood to me?" murphy grinned unpleasantly. "rather be--alone--no report--been over--black range--telegraphed--wait orders." "do you mean you are in direct communication with headquarters, with custer?" the man answered, with a wide sweep of his long arm toward the northwest. "goin' to--be hell--out there--damn soon." "how? are things developing into a truly serious affair--a real campaign?" "every buck--in the--sioux nation--is makin'--fer the--bad lands," and he laughed noiselessly, his nervous fingers gesticulating. "i--guess that--means--business." brant hesitated. should he attempt to learn more about the young girl? instinctively he appreciated the futility of endeavoring to extract information from murphy, and he experienced a degree of shame at thus seeking to penetrate her secret. besides, it was none of his affair, and if ever it should chance to become so, surely there were more respectable means by which he could obtain information. he glanced about, seeking some way of recrossing the stream. "if you require any new equipment," he said tersely, "we can probably supply you at the camp. how do you manage to get across here?" murphy, walking stiffly, led the way down the steep slope, and silently pointed out a log bridging the narrow stream. he stood watching while the officer picked his steps across, but made no responsive motion when the other waved his hand from the opposite shore, his sallow face looking grim and unpleasant. "damn--the luck!" he grumbled, shambling back up the bank. "it don't--look--right. three of 'em--all here--at once--in this--cussed hole. seems if--this yere world--ought ter be--big 'nough--ter keep 'em apart;--but hell--it ain't. might make--some trouble--if them--people--ever git--their heads--tergether talkin'. hell of a note--if the boy--falls in love with--her. likely to do it--too. curse such--fool luck. maybe i--better talk--it over again--with red--he's in it--damn near--as deep as--i am." and he sank down again in his old position before the tent, continuing to mutter, his chin sunk into his chest, his whole appearance that of deep dejection, perhaps of dread. the young officer marched down the road, his heedless feet kicking up the red dust in clouds, his mind busied with the peculiar happenings of the morning, and that prospect for early active service hinted at in the brief utterances of the old scout. brant was a thorough soldier, born into the service and deeply enamored of its dangers; yet beyond this he remained a man, a young man, swayed by those emotions which when at full tide sweep aside all else appertaining to life. just now the vision of that tantalizing girl continued to haunt his memory, and would not down even to the glorious hope of a coming campaign. the mystery surrounding her, her reticence, the muttered insinuation dropping from the unguarded lips of murphy, merely served to render her the more attractive, while her own naive witchery of manner, and her seemingly unconscious coquetry, had wound about him a magic spell, the full power of which as yet remained but dimly appreciated. his mind lingered longingly upon the marvel of the dark eyes, while the cheery sound of that last rippling outburst of laughter reëchoed in his ears like music. his had been a lonely life since leaving west point and joining his regiment--a life passed largely among rough men and upon the desolate plains. for months at a time he had known nothing of refinement, nor enjoyed social intercourse with the opposite sex; life had thus grown as barren and bleak as those desert wastes across which he rode at the command of his superiors. for years the routine of his military duties had held him prisoner, crushing out the dreams of youth. yet, beneath his mask of impassibility, the heart continued to beat with fierce desire, biding the time when it should enjoy its own sweet way. perhaps that hour had already dawned; certainly something new, something inspiring, had now come to awaken an interest unfelt before, and leave him idly dreaming of shadowed eyes and flushed, rounded cheeks. he was in this mood when he overtook the rev. howard wynkoop and marked the thoughtful look upon his pale face. "i called at your camp," explained wynkoop, after the first words of greeting had been exchanged, "as soon as i learned you were here in command, but only to discover your absence. the sergeant, however, was very courteous, and assured me there would be no difficulty in arranging a religious service for the men, unless sudden orders should arrive. no doubt i may rely on your coöperation." "most certainly," was the cordial response, "and i shall also permit those desiring to attend your regular sunday services so long as we are stationed here. how is your work prospering?" "there is much to encourage me, but spiritual progress is slow, and there are times when my faith falters and i feel unworthy of the service in which i am engaged. doubtless this is true of all labor, yet the minister is particularly susceptible to these influences surrounding him." "a mining camp is so intensely material seven days of the week that it must present a difficult field for the awakening of any religious sentiment," confessed brant sympathetically, feeling not a little interested in the clear-cut, intellectual countenance of the other. "i have often wondered how you consented to bury your talents in such a place." the other smiled, but with a trace of sadness in his eyes. "i firmly believe that every minister should devote a portion of his life to the doing of such a work as this. it is both a religious and a patriotic duty, and there is a rare joy connected with it." "yet it was surely not joy i saw pictured within your face when we met; you were certainly troubled over some problem." wynkoop glanced up quickly, a slight flush rising in his pale cheeks. "perplexing questions which must be decided off-hand are constantly arising. i have no one near to whom i can turn for advice in unusual situations, and just now i scarcely know what action to take regarding certain applications for church membership." brant laughed. "i hardly consider myself a competent adviser in matters of church polity," he admitted, "yet i have always been informed that all so desiring are to be made welcome in religious fellowship." "theoretically, yes." and the minister stopped still in the road, facing his companion. "but this special case presents certain peculiarities. the applicants, as i learn from others, are not leading lives above reproach. so far as i know, they have never even attended church service until last sunday, and i have some reason to suspect an ulterior motive. i am anxious to put nothing in the way of any honestly seeking soul, yet i confess that in these cases i hesitate." "but your elders? do not they share the responsibility of passing upon such applications?" the flush on mr. wynkoop's cheeks deepened, and his eyes fell. "ordinarily, yes; but in this case i fear they may prove unduly harsh. i--i feel--that these applications came through the special intercession of a certain young lady, and i am anxious not to hurt her feelings in any way, or to discourage her enthusiasm." "oh, i see! would you mind telling me the names of the two gentlemen?" "mr. john moffat and mr. william mcneil. unfortunately, i know neither personally." "and the young lady?" "a miss phoebe spencer; she has but lately arrived from the east to take charge of our new school--a most interesting and charming young woman, and she is proving of great assistance to me in church work." the lieutenant cleared his throat, and emitted a sigh of suddenly awakened memory. "i fear i can offer you no advice, for if, as i begin to suspect,--though she sought most bravely to avoid the issue and despatch me upon a false trail,--she prove to be that same fascinating young person i met this morning, my entire sympathies are with the gentlemen concerned. i might even be strongly tempted to do likewise at her solicitation." "you? why, you arrived only this morning, and do you mean to say you have met already?" "i at least suspect as much, for there can scarcely exist two in this town who will fill the description. my memory holds the vision of a fair young face, vivacious, ever changing in its expression, yet constantly both piquant and innocent; a perfect wealth of hair, a pair of serious eyes hiding mysteries within their depths, and lips which seem made to kiss. tell me, is not this a fairly drawn portrait of your miss spencer?" the minister gripped his hands nervously together. "your description is not unjust; indeed, it is quite accurate from a mere outer point of view; yet beneath her vivacious manner i have found her thoughtful, and possessed of deep spiritual yearnings. in the east she was a communicant of the episcopal church." brant did not answer him at once. he was studying the minister's downcast face; but when the latter finally turned to depart, he inquired, "do you expect to attend the reception to-morrow evening?" wynkoop stammered slightly. "i--i could hardly refuse under the circumstances; the committee sent me an especially urgent invitation, and i understand there is to be no dancing until late. one cannot be too straight-laced out here." "oh, never mind apologizing. i see no reason why you need hesitate to attend. i merely wondered if you could procure me an invitation." "did she tell you about it?" "well, she delicately hinted at it, and, you know, things are pretty slow here in a social way. she merely suggested that i might possibly meet her again there." "of course; it is given in her honor." "so i understood, although she sought to deceive me into the belief that she was not the lady. we met purely by accident, you understand, and i am desirous of a more formal presentation." the minister drew in his breath sharply, but the clasp of his extended hand was not devoid of warmth. "i will have a card of invitation sent you at the camp. the committee will be very glad of your presence; only i warn you frankly regarding the lady, that competition will be strong." "oh, so far as that is concerned i have not yet entered the running," laughed brant, in affected carelessness, "although i must confess my sporting proclivities are somewhat aroused." he watched the minister walking rapidly away, a short, erect figure, appearing slender in his severely cut black cloth. "poor little chap," he muttered, regretfully. "he's hard hit. still, they say all's fair in love and war." chapter v in honor of miss spencer mr. jack moffat, president of the bachelor miners' pleasure club, had embraced the idea of a reception for miss spencer with unbounded enthusiasm. indeed, the earliest conception of such an event found birth within his fertile brain, and from the first he determined upon making it the most notable social function ever known in that portion of the territory. heretofore the pastime of the bachelors' club had been largely bibulous, and the members thereof had exhibited small inclination to seek the ordinary methods of social relaxation as practised in glencaid. pink teas, or indeed teas of any conceivable color, had never proved sufficiently attractive to wean the members from the chaste precincts of the occidental or the miners' retreat, while the mysterious pleasure of "hunt the slipper" and "spat in and spat out" had likewise utterly failed to inveigle them from retirement. but mr. moffat's example wrought an immediate miracle, so that, long before the fateful hour arrived, every registered bachelor was laboring industriously to make good the proud boast of their enthusiastic president, that this was going to be "the swellest affair ever pulled off west of the missouri." the large space above the occidental was secured for the occasion, the obstructing subdivisions knocked away, an entrance constructed with an outside stairway leading up from a vacant lot, and the passage connecting the saloon boarded up. incidentally, mr. moffat took occasion to announce that if "any snoozer got drunk and came up them stairs" he would be thrown bodily out of a window. mr. mcneil, who was observing the preliminary proceedings with deep interest from a pile of lumber opposite, sarcastically intimated that under such circumstances the attendance of club members would be necessarily limited. mr. moffat's reply it is manifestly impossible to quote literally. mrs. guffy was employed to provide the requisite refreshments in the palatial dining-hall of the hotel, while buck mason, the vigilant town marshal, popularly supposed to know intimately the face of every "rounder" in the territory, agreed to collect the cards of invitation at the door, and bar out obnoxious visitors. these preliminaries having been duly attended to, mr. moffat and his indefatigable committee of arrangements proceeded to master the details of decoration and entertainment, drawing heavily upon the limited resources of the local merchants, and even invading private homes in search after beautifying material. jim lane drove his buckboard one hundred and sixty miles to cheyenne to gather up certain needed articles of adornment, the selection of which could not be safely confided to the inartistic taste of the stage-driver. upon his rapid return journey loaded down with spoils, peg brace, a cow-puncher in the "bar o" gang, rode recklessly alongside his speeding wheels for the greater portion of the distance, apparently in most jovial humor, and so unusually inquisitive as to make mr. lane, as he later expressed it, "plum tired." the persistent rider finally deserted him, however, at the ford over the sinsiniwa, shouting derisively back from a safe distance that the miners' club was a lot of chumps, and promising them a severe "jolt" in the near future. indeed, it was becoming more and more apparent that a decided feeling of hostility was fast developing between the respective partisans of moffat and mcneil. thus far the feud merely smouldered, finding occasional expression in sarcastic speech, and the severance of former friendly relations, but it boded more serious trouble for the near future. to a loyal henchman, moffat merely condescended to remark, glancing disdainfully at a knot of hard riders disconsolately sitting their ponies in front of the saloon door, "we 've got them fellers roped and tied, gents, and they simply won't be ace-high with the ladies of this camp after our fandango is over with. we're a holdin' the hand this game, an' it simply sweeps the board clean. that duffer mcneil's the sickest looking duck i 've seen in a year, an' the whole blame bunch of cow-punchers is corralled so tight there can't a steer among 'em get a nose over the pickets." he glanced over the waiting scene of festivities with intense satisfaction. from bare squalor the spacious apartment had been converted into a scene of almost gorgeous splendor. the waxed floor was a perfect marvel of smoothness; the numerous windows had been heavily draped in red, white, and blue hangings; festoons of the same rich hues hung gracefully suspended from the ceiling, trembling to the least current of air; oil lamps, upheld by almost invisible wires, dangled in profusion; while within the far corner, occupying a slightly raised platform later to be utilized by the orchestra, was an imposing pulpit chair lent by the presbyterian church, resting upon a rug of skins, and destined as the seat of honor for the fair guest of the evening. moffat surveyed all this thoughtfully, and proceeded proudly to the hotel to don a "boiled" shirt, and in other ways prepare himself to do honor to his exalted office. much to the surprise of mcneil, lounging with some cronies on the shaded porch, he nodded to him genially, adding a hearty, "hello there, bill," as he passed carelessly by. the invited guests arrived from the sparsely settled regions round about, not a few riding for a hundred miles over the hard trails. the majority came early, arrayed in whatsoever apparel their limited wardrobes could supply, but ready for any wild frolic. the men outnumbered the gentler sex five to one, but every feminine representative within a radius of about fifty miles, whose respectability could possibly pass muster before the investigations of a not too critical invitation committee, was present amid the throng, attired in all the finery procurable, and supremely and serenely happy in the assured consciousness that she would not lack partners whenever the enticing music began. the gratified president of the pleasure club had occasion to expand his chest with just pride. jauntily twirling his silky mustaches, he pushed his way through the jostling, good-natured crowd already surging toward the entrance of the hall, and stepped briskly forth along the moonlit road toward the herndon home, where the fair queen of the revels awaited his promised escort. it was his hour of supreme triumph, and his head swam with the delicious intoxication of well-earned success, the plaudits of his admirers, and the fond anticipation of miss spencer's undoubted surprise and gratitude. his, therefore, was the step and bearing of a conqueror, of one whose cup was already filled to the brim, and running over with the joy of life. the delay incident to the completion of an elaborate toilet, together with the seductive charms of a stroll through the moon-haunted night beneath the spell of bright eyes and whispered words, resulted in a later arrival at the scene of festivities than had been intended. the great majority of the expected guests had already assembled, and were becoming somewhat restless. no favored courtier ever escorted beloved queen with greater pride or ceremony than that with which mr. moffat led his blushing charge through the throng toward her chair of state. the murmuring voices, the admiring eyes, the hush of expectancy, all contributed to warm the cockles of his heart and to color his face with the glow of victory. glancing at his companion, he saw her cheeks flushed, her head held proudly poised, her countenance evidencing the enjoyment of the moment, and he felt amply rewarded for the work which had produced so glorious a result. a moment he bent above her chair, whispering one last word of compliment into the little ear which reddened at his bold speech, and feasting his ardent eyes upon the flushed and animated countenance. the impatient crowd wondered at the nature of the coming ceremony, and mr. moffat strove to recall the opening words of his introductory address. suddenly his gaze settled upon one face amid the throng. a moment of hesitation followed; then a quick whisper of excuse to the waiting divinity in the chair, and the perturbed president pressed his way toward the door. buck mason stood there on guard, carelessly leaning against the post, his star of office gleaming beneath the light. "buck," exclaimed moffat, "how did that feller mcneil, and those other cow-punchers, get in here? you had your orders." mason turned his quid deliberately and spat at the open door. "you bet i did, jack," he responded cheerfully, yet with a trifle of exasperation evident in his eyes. "and what's more, i reckon they was obeyed. there ain't nobody got in yere ternight without they had a cyard." "well, there has"; and moffat forgot his natural caution in a sudden excess of anger. "no invitations was sent them fellers. do you mean to say they come in through the roof?" mason straightened up, his face darkening, his clinched fist thrashing the air just in front of moffat's nose. "i say they come in yere, right through this door! an' every mother's son of 'em, hed a cyard. i know what i 'm a-talkin' about, you miserable third-class idiot, an' if you give me any more of your lip i 'll paste you good an' proper. go back thar whar you belong, an' tind to your part of this fandango; i'm a runnin' mine." moffat hesitated, his brow black as a thunder cloud, but the crowd was manifestly growing restless over the delay, calling "time!" and "play ball!" and stamping their feet. besides, buck was never known to be averse to a quarrel, and moffat's bump of caution was well developed. he went back, nursing his wrath and cursing silently. the crowd greeted his reappearance with prolonged applause, and some of the former consciousness of victory returned. he glanced down into the questioning eyes of miss spencer, cleared his throat, then grasped her hand, and, as they stood there together, all his confidence came surging back. "ladies and gentlemen of glencaid," he began gracefully, "as president of the bachelor miners' pleasure club, it affords me extreme gratification to welcome you to this the most important social event ever pulled off in this territory. it's going to be a swell affair from the crack of the starter's pistol to the last post, and you can bet on getting your money's worth every time. that's the sort of hairpins we are--all wool and a yard wide. now, ladies and gents, while it is not designed that the pleasure of this evening be marred by any special formalities, any such unnatural restrictions as disfigure such functions in the effete east [applause], and while i am only too anxious to exclaim with the poet, 'on with the dance, let joy be unconfined' [great applause], yet it must be remembered that this high-toned outfit has been got up for a special, definite purpose, as a fit welcome to one who has come among us with the high and holy object of instructing our offspring and elevating the educational ideals of this community. we, of this bachelors' club, may possess no offspring to instruct, but we sympathize with them others who have, and desire to show our interest in the work. we have here with us to-night one of the loveliest of her sex, a flower of refinement and culture plucked from the eastern hills, who, at the stern call of duty, has left her home and friends to devote her talents to this labor of love. in her honor we meet, in her honor this room has been decorated with the colors of our beloved country, and to her honor we now dedicate the fleeting hours of this festal night. it is impossible for her to greet you all personally, much as she wishes to do so, but as president of the bachelor miners' pleasure club, and also," with a deep bow to his blushing and embarrassed companion, "i may venture to add, as an intimate friend of our fair guest, i now introduce to you glencaid's new schoolmistress--miss phoebe spencer. hip! hip! _hurrah_!" swinging his hand high above his head, the enthusiastic orator led the noisy cheers which instantly burst forth in unrestrained volume; and before which miss spencer shrank back into her chair, trembling, yet strangely happy. good humor swayed that crowd, laughter rippled from parted lips, while voices here and there began a spontaneous demand for a speech. miss spencer shook her flossy head helplessly, feeling too deeply agitated to utter a word; and moffat, now oblivious to everything but the important part he was playing in the brilliant spectacle, stepped before her, waving the clamorous assembly into temporary and expectant silence. "our charming guest," he announced, in tones vibrant with authority, "is so deeply affected by this spontaneous outpouring of your good-will as to be unable to respond in words. let us respect her natural embarrassment; let us now exhibit that proud western chivalry which will cause her to feel perfectly at home in our midst. the orchestra will strike up, and amid the mazy whirling of the dance we will at once sink all formality, as becomes citizens of this free and boundless west, this land of gold, of sterling manhood, and womanly beauty. to slightly change the poet's lines, written of a similar occasion: "there was a sound of revelry by night, and proud glencaid had gathered then her beauty and her chivalry, and bright the lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. "so, scatter out, gents, and pick up your partners for the first whirl. this is our turn to treat, and our motto is 'darn the expense.'" he bent over, purposing to lead the lady of his heart forth to the earliest strains of the violins, his genial smile evidencing his satisfaction. "say,--eh--just hold on--eh--a minute!" moffat wheeled about, a look of amazement replacing his previous jovial smile. his eyes hardened dangerously as they encountered the face of mcneil. the latter was white about the lips, but primed for action, and not inclined to waste time in preliminaries. "look here, this ain't your time to butt in--" began moffat, angrily, but the other waved his hand. "say, gents,--eh--that feller had his spiel all right--eh--ain't he? he wants to be--eh--the whole hog, but--eh,--i reckon this is a--eh--free country, ain't it? don't i have--eh--no show?" "go on, bill!" "of course you do." "make jack moffat shut up!" the justly indignant president of the bachelors' club remained motionless, his mouth still open, struggling to restrain those caustic and profane remarks which, in that presence, he dare not utter. he instinctively flung one hand back to his hip, only to remember that all guns had been left at the door. mcneil eyed him calmly, as he might eye a chained bear, his lips parted in a genial smile. "i--eh--ain't no great shakes of an--eh--orator," he began, apologetically, waving one hand toward his gasping rival, "like mr.--eh--moffat. i can't sling words round--eh--reckless, like the--eh--gent what just had the floor, ner--eh--spout poetry, but i reckon--eh--i kin git out--eh--'bout what i got to say. mr. moffat has--eh--told you what the--eh--bachelor miners' club--eh--has been a-doin'. he--eh--spread it on pretty blame thick, but--eh--i reckon they ain't--eh--all of 'em miners round this yere--eh--camp. as the--eh--president of the--eh--cattlemen's shakespearian--eh--reading circle, i am asked to present to--eh--miss spencer a slight token--eh--of our esteem, and--eh--to express our pleasure at--eh--being permitted," he bowed to the choking mr. moffat, "eh--to participate in this--eh--most glorious occasion." he stepped forward, and dropped into miss spencer's lap a small plush-covered box. her fingers pressed the spring, and, as the lid flew open, the brilliant flash of a diamond dazzled her eyes. she sat staring at it, unable for the moment to find speech. then the assemblage burst into an unrestrained murmur of admiration, and the sound served to arouse her. "oh, how beautiful it all is!" she exclaimed, rapturously. "i hardly know what to say, or whom to thank. i never heard of anything so perfectly splendid before. it makes me cry just to remember that it is all done for me. oh, mr. moffat, i want to thank, through you, the gentlemen of the bachelors' club for this magnificent reception. i know i do not deserve it, but it makes me so proud to realize the interest you all take in my work. and, mr. mcneil, i beg you to return my gratitude to the gentlemen of the--the (oh, thank you)--the cattlemen's shakespearian reading circle (how very nice of you to have such an organization for the study of higher literature!) for this superb gift. i shall never forget this night, or what it has brought me, and i simply cannot express my real feelings at all; i--i don't know what to say, or--or what to do." she paused, burying her face in her hands, her body shaken with sobs. moffat, scarcely knowing whether to swear or smile, hastily signalled for the waiting musicians to begin. as they swung merrily into waltz measure he stepped forward, fully confident of his first claim for that opening dance, and vaguely conscious that, once upon the floor with her, he might thus regain his old leadership. miss spencer glanced up at him through her tears. "i--i really feel scarcely equal to the attempt," she murmured nervously, yet rising to her feet. then a new thought seemed suddenly to occur to her. "oh, mr. moffat, i have been so highly favored, and i am so extremely anxious to do everything i can to show my gratitude. i know it is requesting so much of you to ask your relinquishment of this first dance with me to-night. as president of the bachelors' club it is your right, of course, but don't you truly think i ought to give it to mr. mcneil? we were together all the way from the house, you know, and we had such a delightful walk. you wouldn't truly mind yielding up your claim for just this once, would you?" moffat did not reply, simply because he could not; he was struck dumb, gasping for breath, the room whirling around before him, while he stared at her with dazed, unseeing eyes. his very helplessness to respond she naturally interpreted as acquiescence. "it is so good of you, mr. moffat, for i realize how you were counting upon this first dance, were n't you? but mr. mcneil being here as the guest of your club, i think it is perfectly beautiful of you to waive your own rights as president, so as to acknowledge his unexpected contribution to the joy of our evening." she touched him playfully with her hand, the other resting lightly upon mcneil's sleeve, her innocent, happy face upturned to his dazed eyes. "but remember, the next turn is to be yours, and i shall never forget this act of chivalry." it is doubtful if he saw her depart, for the entire room was merely an indistinct blur. he was too desperately angry even to swear. in this emergency, mr. wynkoop, dimly realizing that something unpleasant had occurred, sought to attract the attention of his new parishioner along happier lines. "how exceedingly strange it is, mr. moffat," he ventured, "that beings otherwise rational, and possessing souls destined for eternity, can actually appear to extract pleasure from such senseless exercises? i do not in the least blame miss spencer, for she is yet young, and probably thoughtless about such matters, as the youthful are wont to be, but i am, indeed, rejoiced to note that you do not dance." moffat wheeled upon him, his teeth grinding savagely together. "shut up!" he snapped, fiercely, and shaking off the pastor's gently restraining fingers, shouldered his passage through the crowd toward the door. chapter vi the lieutenant meets miss spencer lieutenant brant was somewhat delayed in reaching the scene of miss spencer's social triumph. certain military requirements were largely responsible for this delay, and he had patiently wrestled with an unsatisfactory toilet, mentally excoriating a service which would not permit the transportation of dress uniforms while on scouting detail. nevertheless, when he finally stepped forth into the brilliant moonlight, he presented an interesting, soldierly figure, his face still retaining a bit of the boy about it, his blue eyes bright with expectancy. that afternoon he had half decided not to go at all, the glamour of such events having long before grown dim, but the peculiar attraction of this night proved too strong; not thus easily could he erase from memory the haunting witchery of a face. beyond doubt, when again viewed amid the conventionalities, much of its imagined charm would vanish; yet he would see her once more, although no longer looking forward to drawing a prize. the dance was already in full swing, the exciting preliminaries having been largely forgotten in the exuberance of motion, when he finally pushed his way through the idle loungers gathered about the door, and gained entrance to the hall. many glanced curiously at him, attracted by the glitter of his uniform, but he recognized none among them, and therefore passed steadily toward the musicians' stand, where there appeared to be a few unoccupied chairs. the scene was one of color and action. the rapid, pulsating music, the swiftly whirling figures, the quivering drapery overhead, the bright youthful faces, the glow of numerous lamps, together with the ceaseless voices and merry shuffling of feet, all combined to create a scene sufficiently picturesque. it was altogether different from what he had anticipated. he watched the speeding figures, striving in vain to distinguish the particular one whose charms had lured him thither. he looked upon fair faces in plenty, flushed cheeks and glowing eyes skurried past him, with swirling skirts and flashes of neatly turned ankles, as these enthusiastic maids and matrons from hill and prairie strove to make amends for long abstinence. but among them all he was unable to distinguish the wood-nymph whose girlish frankness and grace had left so deep an impression on his memory. yet surely she must be present, for, to his understanding, this whole gay festival was in her honor. directly across the room he caught sight of the reverend mr. wynkoop conversing with a lady of somewhat rounded charms, and picked his way in their direction. the missionary, who had yet scarcely recovered from the shock of moffat's impulsive speech, and who, in truth, had been hiding an agonized heart behind a smiling face, was only too delighted at any excuse which would enable him to approach miss spencer, and press aside those cavaliers who were monopolizing her attention. the handicap of not being able to dance he felt to be heavy, and he greeted the lieutenant with unusual heartiness of manner. "why, most assuredly, my dear sir, most assuredly," he said. "mrs. herndon, permit me to make you acquainted with lieutenant brant, of the seventh cavalry." the two, thus introduced, bowed, and exchanged a few words, while mr. wynkoop busied himself in peering about the room, making a great pretence at searching out the lady guest, who, in very truth, had scarcely been absent from his sight during the entire evening. "ah!" he ejaculated, "at last i locate her, and, fortunately, at this moment she is not upon the floor, although positively hidden by the men clustering about her chair. you will excuse us, mrs. herndon, but i have promised lieutenant brant a presentation to your niece." they slipped past the musicians' stand, and the missionary pressed in through the ring of admirers. "why, mr. wynkoop!" and she extended both hands impulsively. "and only to think, you have never once been near me all this evening; you have not congratulated me on my good fortune, nor exhibited the slightest interest! you don't know how much i have missed you. i was just saying to mr. moffat--or it might have been mr. mcneil--that i was completely tired out and wished you were here to sit out this dance with me." wynkoop blushed and forgot the errand which had brought him there, but she remained sufficiently cool and observant. she touched him gently with her hand. "who is that fine-looking young officer?" she questioned softly, yet without venturing to remove her glance from his face. mr. wynkoop started. "oh, exactly; i had forgotten my mission. he has requested an introduction." he drew the lieutenant forward. "lieutenant brant, miss spencer." the officer bowed, a slight shadow of disappointment in his eyes. the lady was unquestionably attractive, her face animated, her reception most cordial, yet she was not the maiden of the dark, fathomless eyes and the wealth of auburn hair. "such a pleasure to meet you," exclaimed miss spencer, her eyes uplifted shyly, only to become at once modestly shaded behind their long lashes. "do you know, lieutenant, that actually i have never before had the privilege of meeting an officer of the army. why, we in the east scarcely realize that we possess such a body of brave men. but i have read much regarding the border, and all the dreams of my girlhood seem on the point of realization since i came here and began mingling in its free, wild life. your appearance supplies the one touch of color that was lacking to make the picture complete. mr. moffat has done so much to make me realize the breadth of western experience, and now, i do so hope, you will some time find opportunity to recount to me some of your army exploits." the lieutenant smiled. "most gladly; yet just now, i confess, the music invites me, and i am sufficiently bold to request your company upon the floor." miss spencer sighed regretfully, her eyes sweeping across those numerous manly faces surrounding them. "why, really, lieutenant brant, i scarcely see how i possibly can. i have already refused so many this evening, and even now i almost believe i must be under direct obligation to some one of those gentlemen. still," hesitatingly, "your being a total stranger here must be taken into consideration. mr. moffat, mr. mcneil, mr. mason, surely you will grant me release this once?" there was no verbal response to the appeal, only an uneasy movement; but her period of waiting was extremely brief. "oh, i knew you would; you have all been so kind and considerate." she arose, resting her daintily gloved hand upon brant's blue sleeve, her pleased eyes smiling up confidingly into his. then with a charming smile, "oh, mr. wynkoop, i have decided to claim your escort to supper. you do not care?" wynkoop bowed, his face like a poppy. "i thought you would not mind obliging me in this. come, lieutenant." miss spencer, when she desired to be, was a most vivacious companion, and always an excellent dancer. brant easily succumbed to her sway, and became, for the time being, a victim to her charms. they circled the long room twice, weaving their way skilfully among the numerous couples, forgetful of everything but the subtile intoxication of that swinging cadence to which their feet kept such perfect time, occasionally exchanging brief sentences in which compliment played no insignificant part. to brant, as he marked the heightened color flushing her fair cheeks, the experience brought back fond memories of his last cadet ball at the point, and he hesitated to break the mystic spell with abrupt questioning. curiosity, however, finally mastered his reticence. "miss spencer," he asked, "may i inquire if you possess such a phenomenon as a 'star' pupil?" the lady laughed merrily, but her expression became somewhat puzzled. "really, what a very strange question! why, not unless it might be little sammy worrell; he can certainly use the longest words i ever heard of outside a dictionary. why, may i ask? are you especially interested in prodigies?" "oh, not in the least; certainly not in little sammy worrell. the person i had reference to chances to be a young woman, having dark eyes, and a wealth of auburn hair. we met quite by accident, and the sole clew i now possess to her identity is a claim she advanced to being your 'star' pupil." miss spencer sighed somewhat regretfully, and her eyes fell. "i fear it must have been naida, from your description. but she is scarcely more than a child. surely, lieutenant, it cannot be possible that you have become interested in her?" he smiled pleasantly. "at least eighteen, is she not? i was somewhat impressed with her evident originality, and hoped to renew our slight acquaintanceship here in more formal manner. she is your 'star' pupil, then?" "why, she is not really in my school at all, but i outline the studies she pursues at home, and lend her such books as i consider best adapted for her reading. she is such a strange girl!" "indeed? she appeared to me to be extremely unconventional, with a decided tendency for mischief. is that your meaning?" "partially. she manages to do everything in a different way from other people. her mind seems peculiarly independent, and she is so unreservedly western in her ways and language. but i was referring rather to her taste in books--she devours everything." "you mean as a student?" "well, yes, i suppose so; at least she appears to possess the faculty of absorbing every bit of information, like a sponge. sometimes she actually startles me with her odd questions; they are so unexpected and abstruse, falling from the lips of so young a girl. then her ideas are so crude and uncommon, and she is so frankly outspoken, that i become actually nervous when i am with her. i really believe mr. wynkoop seeks to avoid meeting her, she has shocked him so frequently in religious matters." "does she make light of his faith?" "oh, no, not that exactly, at least it is not her intention. but she wants to know everything--why we believe this and why we believe that, doctrines which no one else ever dreams of questioning, and he cannot seem to make them clear to her mind. some of her questions are so irreverent as to be positively shocking to a spiritually minded person." they lapsed into silence, swinging easily to the guidance of the music. his face was grave and thoughtful. this picture just drawn of the perverse naida had not greatly lowered her in his estimation, although he felt instinctively that miss spencer was not altogether pleased with his evident interest in another. it was hardly in her nature patiently to brook a rival, but she dissembled with all the art of a clever woman, smiling happily up into his face as their eyes again met. "it is very interesting to know that you two met in so unconventional a way," she ventured, softly, "and so sly of her not even to mention it to me. we are room-mates, you know, and consequently quite intimate, although she possesses many peculiar characteristics which i cannot in the least approve. but after all, naida is really a good-hearted girl enough, and she will probably outgrow her present irregular ways, for, indeed, she is scarcely more than a child. i shall certainly do my best to guide her aright. would you mind giving me some details of your meeting?" for a moment he hesitated, feeling that if the girl had not seen fit to confide her adventure to this particular friend, it was hardly his place to do so. then, remembering that he had already said enough to arouse curiosity, which might easily be developed into suspicion, he determined his course. in a few words the brief story was frankly told, and apparently proved quite amusing to miss spencer. "oh, that was naida, beyond a doubt," she exclaimed, with a laugh of satisfaction. "it is all so characteristic of her. i only wonder how she chanced to guess your name; but really the girl appears to possess some peculiar gift in thus discerning facts hidden from others. her instincts seem so finely developed that at times she reminds me of a wild animal." this caustic inference did not please him, but he said nothing, and the music coming to a pause, they slowly traversed the room. "i presume, then, she is not present?" he said, quietly. miss spencer glanced into his face, the grave tone making her apprehensive that she might have gone too far. "she was here earlier in the evening, but now that you remind me of it, i do not recall having noticed her of late. but, really, lieutenant, it is no part of my duty to chaperon the young girl. mrs. herndon could probably inform you of her present whereabouts." miss spencer was conscious of the sting of failure, and her face flushed with vexation. "it is extremely close in here, don't you think?" she complained. "and i was so careless as to mislay my fan. i feel almost suffocated." "did you leave it at home?" he questioned. "possibly i might discover a substitute somewhere in the room." "oh, no; i would never think of troubling you to such an extent. no doubt this feeling of lassitude will pass away shortly. it was very foolish of me, but i left the fan with my wraps at the hotel. it can be recovered when we go across to supper." in spite of miss spencer's quiet words of renunciation, there was a look of pleading in her shyly uplifted eyes impossible to resist. brant promptly surrendered before this masked battery. "it will be no more than a pleasure to recover it for you," he protested, gallantly. the stairs leading down from the hall entrance were shrouded in darkness, the street below nearly deserted of loiterers, although lights streamed forth resplendently from the undraped windows of the occidental and the hotel opposite. assisted in his search by mrs. guffy, the officer succeeded in recovering the lost fan, and started to return. just without the hotel door, under the confusing shadows of the wide porch, he came suddenly face to face with a young woman, the unexpected encounter a mutual and embarrassing surprise. chapter vii an unusual girl the girl was without wraps, her dress of some light, fleecy material fitting her slender figure exquisitely, her head uncovered; within her eyes brant imagined he could detect the glint of tears. she spoke first, her voice faltering slightly. "will you kindly permit me to pass?" he stepped instantly to one side, bowing as he did so. "i beg your pardon for such seeming rudeness," he said, gravely. "i have been seeking you all the evening, yet this unexpected meeting caught me quite unawares." "you have been seeking me? that is strange. for what reason, pray?" "to achieve what you were once kind enough to suggest as possible--the formality of an introduction. it would seem, however, that fate makes our meetings informal." "that is your fault, not mine." "i gladly assume all responsibility, if you will only waive the formality and accept my friendship." her face seemed to lighten, while her lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. "you are very forgetful. did i not tell you that we presbyterians are never guilty of such indiscretions?" "i believe you did, but i doubt your complete surrender to the creed." "doubt! only our second time of meeting, and you already venture to doubt! this can scarcely be construed into a compliment, i fear." "yet to my mind it may prove the very highest type of compliment," he returned, reassured by her manner. "for a certain degree of independence in both thought and action is highly commendable. indeed, i am going to be bold enough to add that it was these very attributes that awakened my interest in you." "oh, indeed; you cause me to blush already. my frankness, i fear, bids fair to cost me all my friends, and i may even go beyond your pardon, if the perverse spirit of my nature so move me." "the risk of such a catastrophe is mine, and i would gladly dare that much to get away from conventional commonplace. one advantage of such meetings as ours is an immediate insight into each other's deeper nature. for one i shall sincerely rejoice if you will permit the good fortune of our chance meeting to be alone sponsor for our future friendship. will you not say yes?" she looked at him with greater earnestness, her young face sobered by the words spoken. whatever else she may have seen revealed there, the countenance bending slightly toward her was a serious, manly one, inspiring respect, awakening confidence. "and i do agree," she said, extending her hand in a girlish impulse. "it will, at least, be a new experience and therefore worth the trial. i will even endeavor to restrain my rebellious spirit, so that you will not be unduly shocked." he laughed, now placed entirely at his ease. "your need of mercy is appreciated, fair lady. is it your desire to return to the hall?" she shook her head positively. "a cheap, gaudy show, all bluster and vulgarity. even the dancing is a mere parody. i early tired of it." "then let us choose the better part, and sit here on the bench, the night our own." he conducted her across the porch to the darkest corner, where only rifts of light stole trembling in between the shadowing vines, and there found convenient seats. a moment they remained in silence, and he could hear her breathing. "have you truly been at the hall," she questioned, "or were you merely fibbing to awaken my interest?" "i truly have been," he answered, "and actually have danced a measure with the fair guest of the evening." "with phoebe spencer! and yet you dare pretend now to retain an interest in me? lieutenant brant, you must be a most talented deceiver, or else the strangest person i ever met. such a miracle has never occurred before!" "well, it has certainly occurred now; nor am i in this any vain deceiver. i truly met miss spencer. i was the recipient of her most entrancing smiles; i listened to her modulated voice; i bore her off, a willing captive, from a throng of despairing admirers; i danced with her, gazing down into her eyes, with her fluffy hair brushing my cheek, yet resisted all her charms and came forth thinking only of you." "indeed? your proof?" he drew the white satin fan forth from his pocket, and held it out toward her with mock humility. "this, unbelieving princess. despatched by the fair lady in question to fetch this bauble from the dressing-room, i forgot my urgent errand in the sudden delight of finding you." "the case seems fully proved," she confessed, laughingly, "and it is surely not my duty to punish the culprit. what did you talk about? but, pshaw, i know well enough without asking--she told you how greatly she admired the romance of the west, and begged you to call upon her with a recital of your own exploits. have i not guessed aright?" "partially, at least; some such expressions were used." "of course, they always are. i do not know whether they form merely a part of her stock in trade, or are spoken earnestly. you would laugh to hear the tales of wild and thrilling adventure which she picks up, and actually believes. that jack moffat possesses the most marvellous imagination for such things, and if i make fun of his impossible stories she becomes angry in an instant." "i am afraid you do not greatly admire this miss spencer?" "oh, but i do; truly i do. you must not think me ungrateful. no one has ever helped me more, and beneath this mask of artificiality she is really a noble-hearted woman. i do not understand the necessity for people to lead false lives. is it this way in all society--eastern society, i mean? do men and women there continually scheme and flirt, smile and stab, forever assuming parts like so many play-actors?" "it is far too common," he admitted, touched by her naive questioning. "what is known as fashionable social life has become an almost pitiful sham, and you can scarcely conceive the relief it is to meet with one utterly uncontaminated by its miserable deceits, its shallow make-believes. it is no wonder you shock the nerves of such people; the deed is easily accomplished." "but i do not mean to." and she looked at him gravely, striving to make him comprehend. "i try so hard to be--be commonplace, and--and satisfied. only there is so much that seems silly, useless, pitifully contemptible that i lose all patience. perhaps i need proper training in what miss spencer calls refinement; but why should i pretend to like what i don't like, and to believe what i don't believe? cannot one act a lie as well as speak one? and is it no longer right to search after the truth?" "i have always felt it was our duty to discover the truth wherever possible," he said, thoughtfully; "yet, i confess, the search is not fashionable, nor the earnest seeker popular." a little trill of laughter flowed from between her parted lips, but the sound was not altogether merry. "most certainly i am not. they all scold me, and repeat with manifest horror the terrible things i say, being unconscious that they are evil. why should i suspect thoughts that come to me naturally? i want to know, to understand. i grope about in the dark. it seems to me sometimes that this whole world is a mystery. i go to mr. wynkoop with my questions, and they only seem to shock him. why should they? god must have put all these doubts and wonderings into my mind, and there must be an answer for them somewhere. mr. wynkoop is a good man, i truly respect him. i want to please him, and i admire his intellectual attainments; but how can he accept so much on faith, and be content? do you really suppose he is content? don't you think he ever questions as i do? or has he actually succeeded in smothering every doubt? he cannot answer what i ask him; he cannot make things clear. he just pulls up a few, cheap, homely weeds,--useless common things,--when i beg for flowers; he hands them to me, and bids me seek greater faith through prayer. i know i am a perfect heathen,--miss spencer says i am,--but do you think it is so awful for me to want to know these things?" he permitted his hand to drop upon hers, and she made no motion of displeasure. "you merely express clearly what thousands feel without the moral courage to utter it. the saddest part of it all is, the deeper we delve the less we are satisfied in our intellectual natures. we merely succeed in learning that we are the veriest pygmies. men like mr. wynkoop are simply driven back upon faith as a last resort, absolutely baffled by an inpenetrable wall, against which they batter mentally in vain. they have striven with mystery, only to meet with ignominious defeat. faith alone remains, and i dare not deny that such faith is above all knowledge. the pity of it is, there are some minds to whom this refuge is impossible. they are forever doomed to be hungry and remain unfed; thirsty, yet unable to quench their thirst." "are you a church member?" "yes." "do you believe those things you do not understand?" he drew a deep breath, scarcely knowing at that moment how best to answer, yet sincerely anxious to lead this girl toward the light. "the majority of men do not talk much about such matters. they hold them sacred. yet i will speak frankly with you. i could not state in words my faith so that it would be clearly apprehended by the mind of another. i am in the church because i believe its efforts are toward righteousness, because i believe the teachings of christ are perfect. his life the highest possible type of living, and because through him we receive all the information regarding a future existence which we possess. that my mind rests satisfied i do not say; i simply accept what is given, preferring a little light to total darkness." "but here they refuse to accept any one like that. they say i am not yet in a fit state of mind." "such a judgment would seem to me narrow. i was fortunate in coming under the influence of a broad-minded religious teacher. to my statement of doubts he simply said: 'believe what you can; live the very best you can, and keep your mind open toward the light.' it seems to me now this is all that anyone can do whose nature will not permit of blind, unquestioning faith. to require more of ordinary human beings is unreasonable, for god gave us mind and ability to think." there was a pause, so breathless they could hear the rustle of the leaves in the almost motionless air, while the strains of gay music floating from the open windows sounded loud and strident. "i am so glad you have spoken in that way," she confessed. "i shall never feel quite so much alone in the world again, and i shall see these matters from a different viewpoint. is it wrong--unwomanly, i mean--for me to question spiritual things?" "i am unable to conceive why it should be. surely woman ought to be as deeply concerned in things spiritual as man." "how very strange it is that we should thus drift into such an intimate talk at our second meeting!" she exclaimed. "but it seems so easy, so natural, to converse frankly with some people--they appear to draw out all that is best in one's heart. then there are others who seem to parch and wither up every germ of spiritual life." "there are those in the world who truly belong together," he urged, daringly. "they belong to each other by some divine law. they may never be privileged to meet; but if they do, the commingling of their minds and souls is natural. this talk of ours to-night has, perhaps, done me as much good as you." "oh, i am so glad if it has! i--i do not believe you and miss spencer conversed in this way?" "heaven forbid! and yet it might puzzle you to guess what was the main topic of our conversation." "did it interest you?" "deeply." "well, then, it could not be dress, or men, or western romance, or society in boston, or the beautiful weather. i guess it was books." "wrong; they were never mentioned." "then i shall have to give up, for i do not remember any other subjects she talks about." "yet it was the most natural topic imaginable--yourself." "you were discussing me? why, how did that happen?" "very simply, and i was wholly to blame. to be perfectly honest, miss naida, i attended the dance to-night for no other object than to meet you again. but i had argued myself into the belief that you were miss spencer. the discovery of my mistake merely intensified my determination to learn who you really were. with this purpose, i interviewed miss spencer, and during the course of our conversation the facts of my first meeting with you became known." "you told her how very foolish i acted?" "i told her how deeply interested i had become in your outspoken manner." "oh! and she exclaimed, 'how romantic!'" "possibly; she likewise took occasion to suggest that you were merely a child, and seemed astonished that i should have given you a second thought." "why, i am eighteen." "i told her i believed you to be of that age, and she ignored my remark. but what truly surprised both of us was, how you happened to know my name." the girl did not attempt to answer, and she was thankful enough that there was not sufficient light to betray the reddening of her cheeks. "and you do not mean, even now, to make clear the mystery?" he asked. "not--now," she answered, almost timidly. "it is nothing much, only i would rather not now." the sudden sound of voices and laughter in the street beneath brought them both to their feet. "why, they are coming across to supper," she exclaimed, in surprise. "how long we have been here, and it has seemed scarcely a moment! i shall certainly be in for a scolding, lieutenant brant; and i fear your only means of saving me from being promptly sent home in disgrace will be to escort me in to supper." "a delightful punishment!" he drew her hand through his arm, and said: "and then you will pledge me the first dance following?" "oh, you must n't ask me. really, i have not been on the floor to-night; i am not in the mood." "do you yield to moods?" "why, of course i do. is it not a woman's privilege? if you know me long it will be to find me all moods." "if they only prove as attractive as the particular one swaying you to-night, i shall certainly have no cause for complaint. come, miss naida, please cultivate the mood to say yes, before those others arrive." she glanced up at him, shaking her dark hair, her lips smiling. "my present mood is certainly a good-natured one," she confessed, softly, "and consequently it is impossible to say no." his hand pressed hers, as the thronging couples came merrily up the steps. "why, naida, is this you, child? where have you been all this time?" it was miss spencer, clinging to mr. wynkoop's arm. "merely sitting out a dance," was the seemingly indifferent answer; then she added sweetly, "have you ever met my friend, lieutenant brant, of the seventh cavalry, phoebe? we were just going in to supper." miss spencer's glance swept over the silent young officer. "i believe i have had the honor. it was my privilege to be introduced to the gentleman by a mutual friend." the inward rush of hungry guests swept them all forward in laughing, jostling confusion; but naida's cheeks burned with indignation. chapter viii the reappearance of an old friend after supper the lieutenant and naida danced twice together, the young girl's mood having apparently changed to one of buoyant, careless happiness, her dark eyes smiling, her lips uttering freely whatever thought came uppermost. outwardly she pictured the gay and merry spirit of the night, yet to brant, already observing her with the jealousy of a lover, she appeared distrait and restless, her affectation of abandon a mere mask to her true feelings. there was a peculiar watchfulness in her glances about the crowded room, while her flushed cheeks, and the distinctly false note in her laughter, began to trouble him not a little. perhaps these things might have passed unnoted but for their contrast with the late confidential chat. he could not reconcile this sudden change with what he believed of her. it was not carried out with the practised art of one accustomed to deceit. there must be something real influencing her action. these misgivings burdened his mind even as he swung lightly with her to the music, and they talked together in little snatches. he had forgotten miss spencer, forgotten everything else about him, permitting himself to become enthralled by this strange girl whose name even he did not know. in every way she had appealed to his imagination, awakening his interest, his curiosity, his respect, and even now, when some secret seemed to sway her conduct, it merely served to strengthen his resolve to advance still farther in her regard. there are natures which welcome strife; they require opposition, difficulty, to develop their real strength. brant was of this breed. the very conception that some person, even some inanimate thing, might stand between him and the heart of this fair woman acted upon him like a stimulant. the last of the two waltzes ended, they walked slowly through the scattering throng, he striving vainly to arouse her to the former independence and intimacy of speech. while endeavoring bravely to exhibit interest, her mind too clearly wandered, and there was borne in slowly upon him the distasteful idea that she would prefer being left alone. brant had been secretly hoping it might become his privilege to escort her home, but now he durst not breathe the words of such a request. something indefinable had arisen between them which held the man dumb and nerveless. suddenly they came face to face with mrs. herndon, and brant felt the girl's arm twitch. "i have been looking everywhere for you, naida," mrs. herndon said, a slight complaint in her voice. "we were going home." naida's cheeks reddened painfully. "i am so sorry if i have kept you waiting," her words spoken with a rush, "but--but, lieutenant brant was intending to accompany me. we were just starting for the cloak-room." "oh, indeed!" mrs. herndon's expression was noncommittal, while her eyes surveyed the lieutenant. "with your permission, of course," he said. "i hardly think i have any need to interfere." they separated, the younger people walking slowly, silently toward the door. he held her arm, assisting her to descend the stairway, his lips murmuring a few commonplaces, to which she scarcely returned even monosyllabic replies, although she frequently flashed shy glances at his grave face. both realized that some explanation was forthcoming, yet neither was quite prepared to force the issue. "i have no wraps at the hotel," she said, as he attempted to turn that way. "that was a lie also; let us walk directly down the road." he indulged in no comment, his eyes perceiving a pathetic pleading in her upturned face. suddenly there came to him a belief that the girl was crying; he could feel the slight tremor of her form against his own. he glanced furtively at her, only to catch the glitter of a falling tear. to her evident distress, his heart made instant and sympathetic response. with all respect influencing the action, his hand closed warmly over the smaller one on his sleeve. "little girl," he said, forgetting the shortness of their acquaintance in the deep feeling of the moment, "tell me what the trouble is." "i suppose you think me an awful creature for saying that," she blurted out, without looking up. "it wasn't ladylike or nice, but--but i simply could n't help it, lieutenant brant." "you mean your sudden determination to carry me home with you?" he asked, relieved to think this might prove the entire difficulty. "don't let that worry you. why, i am simply rejoiced at being permitted to go. do you know, i wanted to request the privilege all the time we were dancing together. but you acted so differently from when we were beneath the vines that i actually lost my nerve." she looked up, and he caught a fleeting glimpse into her unveiled eyes. "i did not wish you to ask me." "what?" he stopped suddenly. "why then did you make such an announcement to mrs. herndon?" "oh, that was different," she explained, uneasily. "i had to do that; i had to trust you to help me out, but--but i really wanted to go home alone." he swept his unbelieving eyes around over the deserted night scene, not knowing what answer to return to so strange an avowal. "was that what caused you to appear so distant to me in the hall, so vastly different from what you had been before?" she nodded, but with her gaze still upon the ground. "miss naida," he said, "it would be cowardly for me to attempt to dodge this issue between us. is it because you do not like me?" she looked up quickly, the moonlight revealing her flushed face. "oh, no, no! you must never think that. i told you i was a girl of moods; under those vines i had one mood, in the hall another. cannot you understand?" "very little," he admitted, "for i am more inclined to believe you are the possessor of a strong will than that you are swayed by moods. listen. if i thought that a mere senseless mood had caused your peculiar treatment of me to-night, i should feel justified in yielding to a mood also. but i will not lower you to that extent in my estimation; i prefer to believe that you are the true-hearted, frankly spoken girl of the vine shadow. it is this abiding conviction as to your true nature which holds me loyal to a test. miss naida, is it now your desire that i leave you?" he stepped aside, relinquishing her arm, his hat in hand, but she did not move from where he left her. "it--it hurts me," she faltered, "for i truly desire you to think in that way of me, and i--i don't know what is best to do. if i tell you why i wished to come alone, you might misunderstand; and if i refuse, then you will suspect wrong, and go away despising me." "i sincerely wish you might repose sufficient confidence in me as a gentleman to believe i never betray a trust, never pry into a lady's secret." "oh, i do, lieutenant brant. it is not doubt of you at all; but i am not sure, even within my own heart, that i am doing just what is right. besides, it will be so difficult to make you, almost a stranger, comprehend the peculiar conditions which influence my action. even now you suspect that i am deceitful--a masked sham like those others we discussed to-night; but i have never played a part before, never skulked in the dark. to-night i simply had to do it." her voice was low and pleading, her eyes an appeal; and brant could not resist the impulse to comfort. "then attempt no explanation," he said, gently, "and believe me, i shall continue to trust you. to-night, whatever your wish may be, i will abide by it. shall i go, or stay? in either case you have nothing to fear." she drew a deep breath, these open words of faith touching her more strongly than would any selfish fault-finding. "trust begets trust," she replied, with new firmness, and now gazing frankly into his face. "you can walk with me a portion of the way if you wish, but i am going to tell you the truth,--i have an appointment with a man." "i naturally regret to learn this," he said, with assumed calmness. "but the way is so lonely i prefer walking with you until you have some other protector." she accepted his proffered arm, feeling the constraint in his tone, the formality in his manner, most keenly. an older woman might have resented it, but it only served to sadden and embarrass her. he began speaking of the quiet beauty of the night, but she had no thought of what he was saying. "lieutenant brant," she said, at last, "you do not ask me who the man is." "certainly not, miss naida; it is none of my business." "i think, perhaps, it might be; the knowledge might help you to understand. it is bob hampton." he stared at her. "the gambler? no wonder, then, your meeting is clandestine." she replied indignantly, her lips trembling. "he is not a gambler; he is a miner, over in the black range. he has not touched a card in two years." "oh, reformed has he? and are you the instrument that has worked such a miracle?" her eyes fell. "i don't know, but i hope so." then she glanced up again, wondering at his continued silence. "don't you understand yet?" "only that you are secretly meeting a man of the worst reputation, one known the length and breadth of this border as a gambler and fighter." "yes; but--but don't you know who i am?" he smiled grimly, wondering what possible difference that could make. "certainly; you are miss naida herndon." "i? you have not known? lieutenant brant, i am naida gillis." he stopped still, again facing her. "naida gillis? do you mean old gillis's girl? is it possible you are the same we rescued on the prairie two years ago?" she bowed her head. "yes; do you understand now why i trust this bob hampton?" "i perhaps might comprehend why you should feel grateful to him, but not why you should thus consent to meet with him clandestinely." he could not see the deep flush upon her cheeks, but he was not deaf to the pitiful falter in her voice. "because he has been good and true to me," she explained, frankly, "better than anybody else in all the world. i don't care what you say, you and those others who do not know him, but i believe in him; i think he is a man. they won't let me see him, the herndons, nor permit him to come to the house. he has not been in glencaid for two years, until yesterday. the indian rising has driven all the miners out from the black range, and he came down here for no other purpose than to get a glimpse of me, and learn how i was getting on. i--i saw him over at the hotel just for a moment--mrs. guffy handed me a note--and i--i had only just left him when i encountered you at the door. i wanted to see him again, to talk with him longer, but i couldn't manage to get away from you, and i didn't know what to do. there, i've told it all; do you really think i am so very bad, because--because i like bob hampton?" he stood a moment completely nonplussed, yet compelled to answer. "i certainly have no right to question your motives," he said, at last, "and i believe your purposes to be above reproach. i wish i might give the same credit to this man hampton. but, miss naida, the world does not often consent to judge us by our own estimation of right and wrong; it prefers to place its own interpretation on acts, and thus often condemns the innocent. others might not see this as i do, nor have such unquestioning faith in you." "i know," she admitted, stubbornly, "but i wanted to see him; i have been so lonely for him, and this was the only possible way." brant felt a wave of uncontrollable sympathy sweep across him, even while he was beginning to hate this man, who, he felt, had stolen a passage into the innocent heart of a girl not half his age, one knowing little of the ways of the world. he saw again that bare desert, with those two half-dead figures clasped in each other's arms, and felt that he understood the whole miserable story of a girl's trust, a man's perfidy. "may i walk beside you until you meet him?" he asked. "you will not quarrel?" "no; at least not through any fault of mine." a few steps in the moonlight and she again took his arm, although they scarcely spoke. at the bridge she withdrew her hand and uttered a peculiar call, and hampton stepped forth from the concealing bushes, his head bare, his hat in his hand. "i scarcely thought it could be you," he said, seemingly not altogether satisfied, "as you were accompanied by another." the younger man took a single step forward, his uniform showing in the moonlight. "miss gillis will inform you later why i am here," he said, striving to speak civilly. "you and i, however, have met before--i am lieutenant brant, of the seventh cavalry." hampton bowed, his manner somewhat stiff and formal, his face inpenetrable. "i should have left miss gillis previous to her meeting with you," brant continued, "but i desired to request the privilege of calling upon you to-morrow for a brief interview." "with pleasure." "shall it be at ten?" "the hour is perfectly satisfactory. you will find me at the hotel." "you place me under obligations," said brant, and turned toward the wondering girl. "i will now say good-night, miss gillis, and i promise to remember only the pleasant events of this evening." their hands met for an instant of warm pressure, and then the two left behind stood motionless and watched him striding along the moonlit road. chapter ix the verge of a quarrel brant's mind was a chaos of conflicting emotions, but a single abiding conviction never once left him--he retained implicit faith in her, and he purposed to fight this matter out with hampton. even in that crucial hour, had any one ventured to suggest that he was in love with naida, he would merely have laughed, serenely confident that nothing more than gentlemanly interest swayed his conduct. it was true, he greatly admired the girl, recalled to memory her every movement, her slightest glance, her most insignificant word, while her marvellous eyes constantly haunted him, yet the dawn of love was not even faintly acknowledged. nevertheless, he manifested an unreasonable dislike for hampton. he had never before felt thus toward this person; indeed, he had possessed a strong man's natural admiration for the other's physical power and cool, determined courage. he now sincerely feared hampton's power over the innocent mind of the girl, imagining his influence to be much stronger than it really was, and he sought after some suitable means for overcoming it. he had no faith in this man's professed reform, no abiding confidence in his word of honor; and it seemed to him then that the entire future of the young woman's life rested upon his deliverance of her from the toils of the gambler. he alone, among those who might be considered as her true friends, knew the secret of her infatuation, and upon him alone, therefore, rested the burden of her release. it was his heart that drove him into such a decision, although he conceived it then to be the reasoning of the brain. and so she was naida gillis, poor old gillis's little girl! he stopped suddenly in the road, striving to realize the thought. he had never once dreamed of such a consummation, and it staggered him. his thought drifted back to that pale-faced, red-haired, poorly dressed slip of a girl whom he had occasionally viewed with disapproval about the post-trader's store at bethune, and it seemed simply an impossibility. he recalled the unconscious, dust-covered, nameless waif he had once held on his lap beside the bear water. what was there in common between that outcast, and this well-groomed, frankly spoken young woman? yet, whoever she was or had been, the remembrance of her could not be conjured out of his brain. he might look back with repugnance upon those others, those misty phantoms of the past, but the vision of his mind, his ever-changeable divinity of the vine shadows, would not become obscured, nor grow less fascinating. let her be whom she might, no other could ever win that place she occupied in his heart. his mind dwelt upon her flushed cheeks, her earnest face, her wealth of glossy hair, her dark eyes filled with mingled roguery and thoughtfulness,--in utter unconsciousness that he was already her humble slave. suddenly there occurred to him a recollection of silent murphy, and his strange, unguarded remark. what could the fellow have meant? was there, indeed, some secret in the life history of this young girl?--some story of shame, perhaps? if so, did hampton know about it? already daylight rested white and solemn over the silent valley, and only a short distance away lay the spot where the crippled scout had made his solitary camp. almost without volition the young officer turned that way, crossed the stream by means of the log, and clambered up the bank. but it was clear at a glance that murphy had deserted the spot. convinced of this, brant retraced his steps toward the camp of his own troop, now already astir with the duties of early morning. just in front of his tent he encountered his first sergeant. "watson," he questioned, as the latter saluted and stood at attention, "do you know a man called silent murphy?" "the scout? yes, sir; knew him as long ago as when he was corporal in your father's troop. he was reduced to the ranks for striking an officer." brant wheeled in astonishment. "was he ever a soldier in the seventh?" "he was that, for two enlistments, and a mighty tough one; but he was always quick enough for a fight in field or garrison." "has he shown himself here at the camp?" "no, sir; didn't know he was anywhere around. he and i were never very good friends, sir." the lieutenant remained silent for several moments, endeavoring to perfect some feasible plan. "despatch an orderly to the telegraph-office," he finally commanded, "to inquire if this man murphy receives any messages there, and if they know where he is stopping. send an intelligent man, and have him discover all the facts he can. when he returns bring him in to me." he had enjoyed a bath and a shave, and was yet lingering over his coffee, when the two soldiers entered with their report. the sergeant stepped aside, and the orderly, a tall, boyish-looking fellow with a pugnacious chin, saluted stiffly. "well, bane," and the officer eyed his trim appearance with manifest approval, "what did you succeed in learning?" "the operator said this yere murphy hed never bin thar himself, sir, but there wus several messages come fer him. one got here this mornin'." "what becomes of them?" "they're called fer by another feller, sir." "oh, they are! who?" "red slavin wus the name he give me of thet other buck." when the two had disappeared, brant sat back thinking rapidly. there was a mystery here, and such actions must have a cause. something either in or about glencaid was compelling murphy to keep out of sight--but what? who? brant was unable to get it out of his head that all this secrecy centred around naida. with those incautiously spoken words as a clew, he suspected that murphy knew something about her, and that knowledge was the cause for his present erratic actions. perhaps hampton knew; at least he might possess some additional scrap of information which would help to solve the problem. he looked at his watch, and ordered his horse to be saddled. it did not seem quite so simple now, this projected interview with hampton, as it had appeared the night before. in the clear light of day, he began to realize the weakness of his position, the fact that he possessed not the smallest right to speak on behalf of naida gillis. he held no relationship whatsoever to her, and should he venture to assume any, it was highly probable the older man would laugh contemptuously in his face. brant knew better than to believe hampton would ever let go unless he was obliged to do so; he comprehended the impotence of threats on such a character, as well as his probable indifference to moral obligations. nevertheless, the die was cast, and perhaps, provided an open quarrel could be avoided, the meeting might result in good to all concerned. hampton welcomed him with distant but marked courtesy, having evidently thought out his own immediate plan of action, and schooled himself accordingly. standing there, the bright light streaming over them from the open windows, they presented two widely contrasting personalities, yet each exhibiting in figure and face the evidences of hard training and iron discipline. hampton was clothed in black, standing straight as an arrow, his shoulders squared, his head held proudly erect, while his cool gray eyes studied the face of the other as he had been accustomed to survey his opponents at the card-table. brant looked the picture of a soldier on duty, trim, well built, erect, his resolute blue eyes never flinching from the steady gaze bent upon ham, his bronzed young face grave from the seriousness of his mission. neither was a man to temporize, to mince words, or to withhold blows; yet each instinctively felt that this was an occasion rather for self-restraint. in both minds the same thought lingered--the vague wonder how much the other knew. the elder man, however, retained the better self-control, and was first to break the silence. "miss gillis informed me of your kindness to her last evening," he said, quietly, "and in her behalf i sincerely thank you. permit me to offer you a chair." brant accepted it, and sat down, feeling the calm tone of proprietorship in the words of the other as if they had been a blow. his face flushed, yet he spoke firmly. "possibly i misconstrue your meaning," he said, with some bluntness, determined to reach the gist of the matter at once. "did miss gillis authorize you to thank me for these courtesies?" hampton smiled with provoking calmness, holding an unlighted cigar between his fingers. "why, really, as to that i do not remember. i merely mentioned it as expressing the natural gratitude of us both." "you speak as if you possessed full authority to express her mind as well as your own." the other bowed gravely, his face impassive. "my words would quite naturally bear some such construction." the officer hesitated, feeling more doubtful than ever regarding his own position. chagrined, disarmed, he felt like a prisoner standing bound before his mocking captor. "then i fear my mission here is useless." "entirely so, if you come for the purpose i suspect," said hampton, sitting erect in his chair, and speaking with more rapid utterance. "to lecture me on morality, and demand my yielding up all influence over this girl,--such a mission is assured of failure. i have listened with some degree of calmness in this room already to one such address, and surrendered to its reasoning. but permit me to say quite plainly, lieutenant brant, that you are not the person from whom i will quietly listen to another." "i had very little expectation that you would." "you should have had still less, and remained away entirely. however, now that you are here, and the subject broached, it becomes my turn to say something, and to say it clearly. it seems to me you would exhibit far better taste and discrimination if from now on you would cease forcing your attentions upon miss gillis." brant leaped to his feet, but the other never deigned to alter his position. "forcing my attentions!" exclaimed the officer. "god's mercy, man! do you realize what you are saying? i have forced no attentions upon miss gillis." "my reference was rather to future possibilities. young blood is proverbially hot, and i thought it wise to warn you in time." brant stared into that imperturbable face, and somehow the very sight of its calm, inflexible resolve served to clear his own brain. he felt that this cool, self-controlled man was speaking with authority. "wait just a moment," he said, at last. "i wish this made perfectly clear, and for all time. i met miss gillis first through pure accident. she impressed me strongly then, and i confess i have since grown more deeply interested in her personality. i have reasons to suppose my presence not altogether distasteful to her, and she has certainly shown that she reposed confidence in me. not until late last night did i even suspect she was the same girl whom we picked up with you out on the desert. it came to me from her own lips and was a total surprise. she revealed her identity in order to justify her proposed clandestine meeting with you." "and hence you requested this pleasant conference," broke in hampton, coolly, "to inform me, from your calm eminence of respectability, that i was no fit companion for such a young and innocent person, and to warn me that you were prepared to act as her protector." brant slightly inclined his head. "i may have had something of that nature in my mind." "well, lieutenant brant," and the older man rose to his feet, his eyes still smiling, "some might be impolite enough to say that it was the conception of a cad, but whatever it was, the tables have unexpectedly turned. without further reference to my own personal interests in the young lady, which are, however, considerable, there remain other weighty reasons, that i am not at liberty to discuss, which make it simply impossible for you to sustain any relationship to miss gillis other than that of ordinary social friendship." "you--you claim the right--" "i distinctly claim the right, for the reason that i possess the right, and no one has ever yet known me to relinquish a hold once fairly gained. lieutenant brant, if i am any judge of faces you are a fighting man by nature as well as profession, but there is no opportunity for your doing any fighting here. this matter is irrevocably settled--naida gillis is not for you." brant was breathing hard. "do you mean to insinuate that there is an understanding, an engagement between you?" he faltered, scarcely knowing how best to resent such utterance. "you may place your own construction upon what i have said," was the quiet answer. "the special relations existing between miss gillis and myself chance to be no business of yours. however, i will consent to say this--i do enjoy a relationship to her that gives me complete authority to say what i have said to you. i regret having been obliged by your persistency to speak with such plainness, but this knowledge should prove sufficient to control the actions of a gentleman." for a moment the soldier did not answer, his emotions far too strong to permit of calm utterance, his lips tightly shut. he felt utterly defeated. "your language is sufficiently explicit," he acknowledged, at last. "i ask pardon for my unwarranted intrusion." at the door he paused and glanced back toward that motionless figure yet standing with one hand grasping the back of the chair. "before i go, permit me to ask a single question," he said, frankly. "i was a friend of old ben gillis, and he was a friend to my father before me. have you any reason to suspect that he was not naida gillis's father?" hampton took one hasty step forward. "what do you mean?" he exclaimed, fiercely, his eyes two coals of fire. brant felt that the other's display of irritation gave him an unexpected advantage. "nothing that need awaken anger, i am sure. something caused me to harbor the suspicion, and i naturally supposed you would know about it. indeed, i wondered if some such knowledge might not account for your very deep interest in keeping her so entirely to yourself." hampton's fingers twitched in a nervousness altogether unusual to the man, yet when he spoke his voice was like steel. "your suspicions are highly interesting, and your cowardly insinuations base. however, if, as i suppose, your purpose is to provoke a quarrel, you will find me quite ready to accommodate you." an instant they stood thus, eye to eye. suddenly brant's memory veered to the girl whose name would be smirched by any blow struck between them, and he forced back the hasty retort burning upon his lips. "you may be, mr. hampton," he said, standing like a statue, his back to the door, "but i am not. as you say, fighting is my trade, yet i have never sought a personal quarrel. nor is there any cause here, as my only purpose in asking the question was to forewarn you, and her through you, that such a suggestion had been openly made in my hearing. i presume it was a lie, and wished to be able to brand it so." "by whom?" "a fellow known as silent murphy, a government scout." "i have heard of him. where is he?" "he claimed to be here waiting orders from custer. he had camp up the creek two days ago, but is keeping well out of sight for some reason. telegrams have been received for him at the office but another man has called for them." "who?" "red slavin." "the cur!" said hampton. "i reckon there is a bad half-hour waiting for those two fellows. what was it that murphy said?" "that he knew the girl's real name." "was that all?" "yes; i tried to discover his meaning, but the fellow became suspicious and shut up like a clam. is there anything in it?" hampton ignored the question. "lieutenant brant," he said, "i am glad we have had this talk together, and exceedingly sorry that my duty has compelled me to say what i have said. some time, however, you will sincerely thank me for it, and rejoice that you escaped so easily. i knew your father once, and i should like now to part on friendly relations with his son." he held out his hand, and, scarcely knowing why he did so, brant placed his own within its grasp, and as the eyes of the two men met, there was a consciousness of sympathy between them. chapter x a slight interruption the young officer passed slowly down the dark staircase, his mind still bewildered by the result of the interview. his feelings toward hampton had been materially changed. he found it impossible to nurse a dislike which seemingly had no real cause for existence. he began besides to comprehend something of the secret of his influence over naida; even to experience himself the power of that dominating spirit. out of controversy a feeling of respect had been born. yet brant was far from being satisfied. little by little he realized that he had gained nothing, learned nothing. hampton had not even advanced a direct claim; he had dodged the real issue, leaving the soldier in the dark regarding his relationship to naida, and erecting a barrier between the other two. it was a masterpiece of defence, puzzling, irritating, seemingly impassable. from the consideration of it all, brant emerged with but one thought clearly defined--whoever she might prove to be, whatever was her present connection with hampton, he loved this dark-eyed, auburn-haired waif. he knew it now, and never again could he doubt it. the very coming of this man into the field of contest, and his calm assumption of proprietorship and authority, had combined to awaken the slumbering heart of the young officer. from that instant naida gillis became to him the one and only woman in all this world. ay, and he would fight to win her; never confessing defeat until final decision came from her own lips. he paused, half inclined to retrace his steps and have the matter out. he turned just in time to face a dazzling vision of fluffy lace and flossy hair beside him in the dimly lighted hall. "oh, lieutenant brant!" and the vision clung to his arm tenderly. "it is such a relief to find that you are unhurt. did--did you kill him?" brant stared. "i--i fear i scarcely comprehend, miss spencer. i have certainly taken no one's life. what can you mean?" "oh, i am so glad; and naida will be, too. i must go right back and tell the poor girl, for she is nearly distracted. oh, lieutenant, is n't it the most romantic situation that ever was? and he is such a mysterious character!" "to whom do you refer? really, i am quite in the dark." "why, mr. hampton, of course. oh, i know all about it. naida felt so badly over your meeting this morning that i just compelled her to confide her whole story to me. and didn't you fight at all?" "most assuredly not," and brant's eyes began to exhibit amusement; "indeed, we parted quite friendly." "i told naida i thought you would. people don't take such things so seriously nowadays, do they? but naida is such a child and so full of romantic notions, that she worried terribly about it. is n't it perfectly delightful what he is going to do for her?" "i am sure i do not know." "why, had n't you heard? he wants to send her east to a boarding-school and give her a fine education. do you know, lieutenant, i am simply dying to see him; he is such a perfectly splendid western character." "it would afford me pleasure to present you," and the soldier's downcast face brightened with anticipation. "do--do you really think it would be proper? but they do things so differently out here, don't they? oh, i wish you would." feeling somewhat doubtful as to what might be the result, brant knocked upon the door he had just closed, and, in response to the voice within, opened it. hampton sat upon the chair by the window, but as his eyes caught a glimpse of the returned soldier with a woman standing beside him, he instantly rose to his feet. "mr. hampton," said brant, "i trust i may be pardoned for again troubling you, but this is miss spencer, a great admirer of western life, who is desirous of making your acquaintance." miss spencer swept gracefully forward, her cheeks flushed, her hand extended. "oh, mr. hampton, i have so wished to meet with you ever since i first read your name in aunt lydia's letters--mrs. herndon is my aunt, you know,--and all about that awful time you had with those indians. you see, i am naida gillis's most particular friend, and she tells me so much about you. she is such a dear, sweet girl! she felt so badly this morning over your meeting with lieutenant brant, fearing you might quarrel! it was such a relief to find him unhurt, but i felt that i must see you also, so as to relieve naida's mind entirely. i have two special friends, mr. moffat and mr. mcneil,--perhaps you know them?--who have told me so much about these things. but i do think the story of your acquaintance with naida is the most romantic i ever heard of,--exactly like a play on the stage, and i could never forgive myself if i failed to meet the leading actor. i do not wonder naida fairly worships you." "i most certainly appreciate your frankly expressed interest, miss spencer," he said, standing with her hand still retained in his, "and am exceedingly glad there is one residing in this community to whom my peculiar merits are apparent. so many are misjudged in this world, that it is quite a relief to realize that even one is appreciative, and the blessing becomes doubled when that one chances to be so very charming a young woman." miss spencer sparkled instantly, her cheeks rosy. "oh, how very gracefully you said that! i do wish you would some time tell me about your exploits. why, mr. hampton, perhaps if you were to call upon me, you might see naida, too. i wish you knew mr. moffat, but as you don't, perhaps you might come with lieutenant brant." hampton bowed. "i would hardly venture thus to place myself under the protection of lieutenant brant, although i must confess the former attractions of the herndon home are now greatly increased. from my slight knowledge of mr. moffat's capabilities, i fear i should be found a rather indifferent entertainer; yet i sincerely hope we shall meet again at a time when i can 'a tale unfold.'" "how nice that will be, and i am so grateful to you for the promise. by-the-bye, only this very morning a man stopped me on the street, actually mistaking me for naida." "what sort of a looking man, miss spencer?" "large, and heavily set, with a red beard. he was exceedingly polite when informed of his mistake, and said he merely had a message to deliver to miss gillis. but he refused to tell it to me." the glances of the two men met, but brant was unable to decipher the meaning hidden within the gray eyes. neither spoke, and miss spencer, never realizing what her chatter meant, rattled merrily on. "you see there are so many who speak to me now, because of my public position here. so i thought nothing strange at first, until i discovered his mistake, and then it seemed so absurd that i nearly laughed outright. isn't it odd what such a man could possibly want with her? but really, gentlemen, i must return with my news; naida will be so anxious. i am so glad to have met you both." hampton bowed politely, and brant conducted her silently down the stairway. "i greatly regret not being able to accompany you home," he explained, "but i came down on horseback, and my duty requires that i return at once to the camp." "oh, indeed! how very unfortunate for me!" even as she said so, some unexpected vision beyond flushed her cheeks prettily. "why, mr. wynkoop," she exclaimed, "i am so glad you happened along, and going my way too, i am sure. good morning, lieutenant; i shall feel perfectly safe with mr. wynkoop." chapter xi the door opens, and closes again in one sense hampton had greatly enjoyed miss spencer's call. her bright, fresh face, her impulsive speech, her unquestioned beauty, had had their effect upon him, changing for the time being the gloomy trend of his thoughts. she was like a draught of pure spring air, and he had gratefully breathed it in, and even longed for more. but gradually the slight smile of amusement faded from his eyes. something, which he had supposed lay securely hidden behind years and distance, had all at once come back to haunt him,--the unhappy ghost of an expiated crime, to do evil to this girl naida. two men, at least, knew sufficient of the past to cause serious trouble. this effort by slavin to hold personal communication with the girl was evidently made for some definite purpose. hampton was unable to decide what that purpose could be. he entertained no doubt regarding the enmity of the big gambler, or his desire to "get even" for all past injuries; but how much did he know? what special benefit did he hope to gain from conferring with naida gillis? hampton decided to have a face-to-face interview with the man himself; he was accustomed to fight his battles in the open, and to a finish. a faint hope, which had been growing dimmer and dimmer with every passing year, began to flicker once again within his heart. he desired to see this man murphy, and to learn exactly what he knew. he had planned his work, and was perfectly prepared to meet its dangers. he entered the almost deserted saloon opposite the hotel, across the threshold of which he had not stepped for two years, and the man behind the bar glanced up apprehensively. "red slavin?" he said. "well, now see here, hampton, we don't want no trouble in this shebang." "i 'm not here seeking a fight, jim," returned the inquirer, genially. "i merely wish to ask 'red' an unimportant question or two." "he's there in the back room, i reckon, but he's damn liable to take a pot shot at you when you go in." hampton's genial smile only broadened, as he carelessly rolled an unlighted cigar between his lips. "it seems to me you are becoming rather nervous for this line of business, jim. you should take a good walk in the fresh air every morning, and let up on the liquor. i assure you, mr. slavin is one of my most devoted friends, and is of that tender disposition he would not willingly injure a fly." he walked to the door, flung it swiftly and silently open, and stepping within, closed it behind him with his left hand. in the other glittered the steel-blue barrel of a drawn revolver. "slavin, sit down!" the terse, imperative words seemed fairly to cut the air, and the red-bearded gambler, who had half risen to his feet, an oath upon his lips, sank back into his seat, staring at the apparition confronting him as if fascinated. hampton jerked a chair up to the opposite side of the small table, and planted himself on it, his eyes never once deserting the big gambler's face. "put your hands on the table, and keep them there!" he said. "now, my dear friend, i have come here in peace, not war, and take these slight precautions merely because i have heard a rumor that you have indulged in a threat or two since we last parted, and i know something of your impetuous disposition. no doubt this was exaggerated, but i am a careful man, and prefer to have the 'drop,' and so i sincerely hope you will pardon my keeping you covered during what is really intended as a friendly call. i regret the necessity, but trust you are resting comfortably." "oh, go to hell!" "we will consider that proposition somewhat later." hampton laid his hat with calm deliberation on the table. "no doubt, mr. slavin,--if you move that hand again i 'll fill your system with lead,--you experience some very natural curiosity regarding the object of my unanticipated, yet i hope no less welcome, visit." slavin's only reply was a curse, his bloodshot eyes roaming the room furtively. "i suspected as much," hampton went on, coolly. "indeed, i should have felt hurt had you been indifferent upon such an occasion. it does credit to your heart, slavin. come now, keep your eyes on me! i was about to gratify your curiosity, and, in the first place, i came to inquire solicitously regarding the state of your health during my absence, and incidentally to ask why you are exhibiting so great an interest in miss naida gillis." slavin straightened up, his great hands clinching nervously, drops of perspiration appearing on his red forehead. "i don't understand your damned fun." hampton's lips smiled unpleasantly. "slavin, you greatly discourage me. the last time i was here you exhibited so fine a sense of humor that i was really quite proud of you. yet, truly, i think you do understand this joke. your memory can scarcely be failing at your age.--make another motion like that and you die right there! you know me.--however, as you seem to shy over my first question, i 'll honor you with a second,--where's silent murphy?" slavin's great square jaws set, a froth oozing from between his thick lips, and for an instant the other man believed that in his paroxysm of rage he would hurl himself across the table. then suddenly the ungainly brute went limp, his face grown haggard. "you devil!" he roared, "what do you mean?" surprised as hampton was by this complete breaking down, he knew his man far too well to yield him the slightest opportunity for treachery. with revolver hand resting on the table, the muzzle pointing at the giant's heart, he leaned forward, utterly remorseless now, and keen as an indian on the trail. "do you know who i am?" the horror in slavin's eyes had changed to sullenness, but he nodded silently. "how do you know?" there was no reply, although the thick lips appeared to move. "answer me, you red sneak! do you think i am here to be played with? answer!" slavin gulped down something which seemed threatening to choke him, but he durst not lift a hand to wipe the sweat from his face. "if--if i didn't have this beard on you might guess. i thought you knew me all the time." hampton stared at him, still puzzled. "i have certainly seen you somewhere. i thought that from the first. where was it?" "i was in d troop, seventh cavalry." "d troop? brant's troop?" the big gambler nodded. "that's how i knew you, captain," he said, speaking with greater ease, "but i never had no reason to say anything about it round here. you was allers decent 'nough ter me." "possibly,"--and it was plainly evident from his quiet tone hampton had steadied from his first surprise,--"the boot was on the other leg, and you had some good reason not to say anything." slavin did not answer, but he wet his lips with his tongue, his eyes on the window. "who is this fellow murphy?" "he was corporal in that same troop, sir." the ex-cavalryman dropped insensibly into his old form of speech. "he knew you too, and we talked it over, and decided to keep still, because it was none of our affair anyhow." "where is he now?" "he left last night with army despatches for cheyenne." hampton's eyes hardened perceptibly, and his fingers closed more tightly about the butt of his revolver. "you lie, slavin! the last message did not reach here until this morning. that fellow is hiding somewhere in this camp, and the two of you have been trying to get at the girl. now, damn you, what is your little game?" the big gambler was thinking harder then, perhaps, than he had ever thought in his life before. he was no coward, although there was a yellow, wolfish streak of treachery in him, and he read clearly enough in the watchful eyes glowing behind that blue steel barrel a merciless determination which left him nerveless. he knew hampton would kill him if he needed to do so, but he likewise realized that he was not likely to fire until he had gained the information he was seeking. cunning pointed the only safe way out from this difficulty. lies had served his turn well before, and he hoped much from them now. if he only knew how much information the other possessed, it would be easy enough. as he did not, he must wield his weapon blindly. "you 're makin' a devil of a fuss over little or nuthin'," he growled, simulating a tone of disgust. "i never ain't hed no quarrel with ye, exceptin' fer the way ye managed ter skin me at the table bout two years ago. i don't give two screeches in hell for who you are; an' besides, i reckon you ain't the only ex-convict a-ranging dakota either fer the matter o' that. no more does murphy. we ain't no bloomin' detectives, an' we ain't buckin' in on no business o' yourn; ye kin just bet your sweet life on thet." "where is murphy, then? i wish to see the fellow." "i told you he'd gone. maybe he didn't git away till this mornin', but he's gone now all right. what in thunder do ye want o' him? i reckon i kin tell ye all thet murphy knows." for a breathless moment neither spoke, hampton fingering his gun nervously, his eyes lingering on that brutal face. "slavin," he said at last, his voice hard, metallic, "i 've figured it out, and i do know you now, you lying brute. you are the fellow who swore you saw me throw away the gun that did the shooting, and that afterwards you picked it up." there was the spirit of murder in his eyes, and the gambler cowered back before them, trembling like a child. "i--i only swore to the last part, captain," he muttered, his voice scarcely audible. "i--i never said i saw you throw---" "and i swore," went on hampton, "that i would kill you on sight. you lying whelp, are you ready to die?" slavin's face was drawn and gray, the perspiration standing in beads upon his forehead, but he could neither speak nor think, fascinated by those remorseless eyes, which seemed to burn their way down into his very soul. "no? well, then, i will give you, to-day, just one chance to live--one, you dog--one. don't move an eyelash! tell me honestly why you have been trying to get word with the girl, and you shall go out from here living. lie to me about it, and i am going to kill you where you sit, as i would a mad dog. you know me, slavin--now speak!" so intensely still was it, hampton could distinguish the faint ticking of the watch in his pocket, the hiss of the breath between the giant's clinched teeth. twice the fellow tried to utter something, his lips shaking as with the palsy, his ashen face the picture of terror. no wretch dragged shrieking to the scaffold could have formed a more pitiful sight, but there was no mercy in the eyes of the man watching him. "speak, you cringing hound!" slavin gripped his great hands together convulsively, his throat swelling beneath its red beard. he knew there was no way of escape. "i--i had to do it! my god, captain, i had to do it!" "why?" "i had to, i tell you. oh, you devil, you fiend! i 'm not the one you 're after--it's murphy!" for a single moment hampton stared at the cringing figure. then suddenly he rose to his feet in decision. "stand up! lift your hands first, you fool. now unbuckle your gun-belt with your left hand--your left, i said! drop it on the floor." there was an unusual sound behind, such as a rat might have made, and hampton glanced aside apprehensively. in that single second slavin was upon him, grasping his pistol-arm at the wrist, and striving with hairy hand to get a death-grip about his throat. twice hampton's left drove straight out into that red, gloating face, and then the giant's crushing weight bore him backward. he fought savagely, silently, his slender figure like steel, but slavin got his grip at last, and with giant strength began to crunch his victim within his vise-like arms. there was a moment of superhuman strain, their breathing mere sobs of exhaustion. then slavin slipped, and hampton succeeded in wriggling partially free from his death-grip. it was for scarcely an instant, yet it served; for as he bent aside, swinging his burly opponent with him, some one struck a vicious blow at his back; but the descending knife, missing its mark, sunk instead deep into slavin's breast. hampton saw the flash of a blade, a hand, a portion of an arm, and then the clutching fingers of slavin swept him down. he reached out blindly as he fell, his hand closing about the deserted knife-hilt. the two crashed down together upon the floor, the force of the fall driving the blade home to the gambler's heart. chapter xii the cohorts of judge lynch hampton staggered blindly to his feet, looking down on the motionless body. he was yet dazed from the sudden cessation of struggle, dazed still more by something he had seen in the instant that deadly knife flashed past him. for a moment the room appeared to swim before his eyes, and he clutched at the overturned table for support, then, as his senses returned, he perceived the figures of a number of men jamming the narrow doorway, and became aware of their loud, excited voices. back to his benumbed brain there came with a rush the whole scene, the desperation of his present situation. he had been found alone with the dead man. those men, when they came surging in attracted by the noise of strife, had found him lying on slavin, his hand clutching the knife-hilt. he ran his eyes over their horrified faces, and knew instantly they held him the murderer. the shock of this discovery steadied him. he realized the meaning, the dread, terrible meaning, for he knew the west, its fierce, implacable spirit of vengeance, its merciless code of lynch-law. the vigilantes of the mining camps were to him an old story; more than once he had witnessed their work, been cognizant of their power. this was no time to parley or to hesitate. he had seen and heard in that room that which left him eager to live, to be free, to open a long-closed door hiding the mystery of years. the key, at last, had fallen almost within reach of his fingers, and he would never consent to be robbed of it by the wild rage of a mob. he grabbed the loaded revolver lying upon the floor, and swung slavin's discarded belt across his shoulder. if it was to be a fight, he would be found there to the death, and god have mercy on the man who stopped him! "stand aside, gentlemen," he commanded. "step back, and let me pass!" they obeyed. he swept them with watchful eyes, stepped past, and slammed the door behind him. in his heart he held them as curs, but curs could snap, and enough of them might dare to pull him down. men were already beginning to pour into the saloon, uncertain yet of the facts, and shouting questions to each other. totally ignoring these, hampton thrust himself recklessly through the crowd. half-way down the broad steps buck mason faced him, in shirt sleeves, his head uncovered, an ugly " " in his up-lifted hand. just an instant the eyes of the two men met, and neither doubted the grim purpose of the other. "you've got ter do it, bob," announced the marshal, shortly, "dead er alive." hampton never hesitated. "i 'm sorry i met you. i don't want to get anybody else mixed up in this fuss. if you'll promise me a chance for my life, buck, i 'll throw up my hands. but i prefer a bullet to a mob." the little marshal was sandy-haired, freckle-faced, and all nerve. he cast one quick glance to left and right. the crowd jammed within the occidental had already turned and were surging toward the door; the hotel opposite was beginning to swarm; down the street a throng of men was pouring forth from the miners' retreat, yelling fiercely, while hurrying figures could be distinguished here and there among the scattered buildings, all headed in their direction. hampton knew from long experience what this meant; these were the quickly inflamed cohorts of judge lynch--they would act first, and reflect later. his square jaws set like a trap. "all right, bob," said the marshal. "you're my prisoner, and there 'll be one hell of a fight afore them lads git ye. there's a chance left--leg it after me." just as the mob surged out of the occidental, cursing and struggling, the two sprang forward and dashed into the narrow space between the livery-stable and the hotel. moffat chanced to be in the passage-way, and pausing to ask no questions, mason promptly landed that gentleman on the back of his head in a pile of discarded tin cans, and kicked viciously at a yellow dog which ventured to snap at them as they swept past. behind arose a volley of curses, the thud of feet, an occasional voice roaring out orders, and a sharp spat of revolver shots. one ball plugged into the siding of the hotel, and a second threw a spit of sand into their lowered faces, but neither man glanced back. they were running for their lives now, racing for a fair chance to turn at bay and fight, their sole hope the steep, rugged hill in their front. hampton began to understand the purpose of his companion, the quick, unerring instinct which had led him to select the one suitable spot where the successful waging of battle against such odds was possible--the deserted dump of the old shasta mine. with every nerve strained to the uttermost, the two men raced side by side down the steep slope, ploughed through the tangled underbrush, and toiled up the sharp ascent beyond. already their pursuers were crowding the more open spaces below, incited by that fierce craze for swift vengeance which at times sweeps even the law-abiding off their feet. little better than brutes they came howling on, caring only in this moment to strike and slay. the whole affair had been like a flash of fire, neither pursuers nor pursued realizing the half of the story in those first rapid seconds of breathless action. but back yonder lay a dead man, and every instinct of the border demanded a victim in return. at the summit of the ore dump the two men flung themselves panting down, for the first time able now to realize what it all meant. they could perceive the figures of their pursuers among the shadows of the bushes below, but these were not venturing out into the open--the first mad, heedless rush had evidently ended. there were some cool heads among the mob leaders, and it was highly probable that negotiations would be tried before that crowd hurled itself against two desperate men, armed and entrenched. both fugitives realized this, and lay there coolly watchful, their breath growing more regular, their eyes softening. "whut is all this fuss about, anyhow?" questioned the marshal, evidently somewhat aggrieved. "i wus just eatin' dinner when a feller stuck his head in an' yelled ye'd killed somebody over at the occidental." hampton turned his face gravely toward him. "buck, i don't know whether you'll believe me or not, but i guess you never heard me tell a lie, or knew of my trying to dodge out of a bad scrape. besides, i have n't anything to gain now, for i reckon you 're planning to stay with me, guilty or not guilty, but i did not kill that fellow. i don't exactly see how i can prove it, the way it all happened, but i give you my word as a man, i did not kill him." mason looked him squarely in the eyes, his teeth showing behind his stiff, closely clipped mustache. then he deliberately extended his hand, and gripped hampton's. "of course i believe ye. not that you 're any too blame good, bob, but you ain't the kind what pleads the baby act. who was the feller?" "red slavin." "no!" and the hand grip perceptibly tightened. "holy moses, what ingratitude! why, the camp ought to get together and give ye a vote of thanks, and instead, here they are trying their level best to hang you. cussedest sorter thing a mob is, anyhow; goes like a flock o' sheep after a leader, an' i bet i could name the fellers who are a-runnin' that crowd. how did the thing happen?" both men were intently observing the ingathering of their scattered pursuers, but hampton answered gravely, telling his brief story with careful detail, appreciating the importance of reposing full confidence in this quiet, resourceful companion. the little marshal was all grit, nerve, faithfulness to duty, from his head to his heels. "all i really saw of the fellow," he concluded, "was a hand and arm as they drove in the knife. you can see there where it ripped me, and the unexpected blow of the man's body knocked me forward, and of course i fell on slavin. it may be i drove the point farther in when i came down, but that was an accident. the fact is, buck, i had every reason to wish slavin to live. i was just getting out of him some information i needed." mason nodded, his eyes wandering from hampton's expressive face to the crowd beginning to collect beneath the shade of a huge oak a hundred yards below. "never carry a knife, do ye?" "no." "thought not; always heard you fought with a gun. caught no sight of the feller after ye got up?" "all i saw then was the crowd blocking the door-way. i knew they had caught me lying on slavin, with my hand grasping the knife-hilt, and, someway, i couldn't think of anything just then but how to get out of there into the open. i 've seen vigilantes turn loose before, and knew what was likely to happen!" "sure. recognize anybody in that first bunch?" "big jim, the bartender, was the only one i knew; he had a bung-starter in his hand." mason nodded thoughtfully, his mouth puckered. "it's him, and half a dozen other fellers of the same stripe, who are kickin' up all this fracas. the most of 'em are yonder now, an' if it wus n't fer leavin' a prisoner unprotected, darn me if i wud n't like to mosey right down thar an' pound a little hoss sense into thet bunch o' cattle. thet's 'bout the only thing ye kin do fer a plum fool, so long as the law won't let ye kill him." they lapsed into contemplative silence, each man busied with his own thought, and neither perceiving clearly any probable way out of the difficulty. hampton spoke first. "i 'm really sorry that you got mixed up in this, buck, for it looks to me about nine chances out of ten against either of us getting away from here unhurt." "oh, i don't know. it's bin my experience thet there's allers chances if you only keep yer eyes skinned. of course them fellers has got the bulge; they kin starve us out, maybe they kin smoke us out, and they kin sure make things onpleasant whenever they git their long-range guns to throwin' lead permiscous. thet's their side of the fun. then, on the other hand, if we kin only manage to hold 'em back till after dark we maybe might creep away through the bush to take a hand in this little game. anyhow, it 's up to us to play it out to the limit. bless my eyes, if those lads ain't a-comin' up right now!" a half-dozen men were starting to climb the hillside, following a dim trail through the tangled underbrush. looking down upon them, it was impossible to distinguish their faces, but two among them, at least, carried firearms. mason stepped up on to the ore-dump where he could see better, and watched their movements closely. "hi, there!" he called, his voice harsh and strident. "you fellers are not invited to this picnic, an' there'll be somethin' doin' if you push along any higher." the little bunch halted instantly just without the edge of the heavy timber, turning their faces up toward the speaker. evidently they expected to be hailed, but not quite so soon. "now, see here, buck," answered one, taking a single step ahead of the others, and hollowing his hand as a trumpet to speak through, "it don't look to us fellers as if this affair was any of your funeral, nohow, and we 've come 'long ahead of the others just on purpose to give you a fair show to pull out of it afore the real trouble begins. _sabe_?" "is thet so?" the little marshal was too far away for them to perceive how his teeth set beneath the bristly mustache. "you bet! the boys don't consider thet it's hardly the square deal your takin' up agin 'em in this way. they 'lected you marshal of this yere camp, but it war n't expected you'd ever take no sides 'long with murderers. thet's too stiff fer us to abide by. so come on down, buck, an' leave us to attend to the cuss." "if you mean hampton, he's my prisoner. will you promise to let me take him down to cheyenne fer trial?" "wal, i reckon not, old man. we kin give him a trial well 'nough right here in glencaid," roared another voice from out the group, which was apparently growing restless over the delay. "but we ain't inclined to do you no harm onless ye ram in too far. so come on down, buck, throw up yer cards; we've got all the aces, an' ye can't bluff this whole darn camp." mason spat into the dump contemptuously, his hands thrust into his pockets. "you 're a fine-lookin' lot o' law-abidin' citizens, you are! blamed if you ain't. why, i wouldn't give a snap of my fingers fer the whole kit and caboodle of ye, you low-down, sneakin' parcel o' thieves. ye say it wus yer votes whut made me marshal o' this camp. well, i reckon they did, an' i reckon likewise i know 'bout whut my duty under the law is, an' i'm a-goin' to do it. if you fellers thought ye 'lected a chump, this is the time you git left. this yere man, bob hampton, is my prisoner, an' i'll take him to cheyenne, if i have ter brain every tough in glencaid to do it. thet's me, gents." "oh, come off; you can't run your notions agin the whole blame moral sentiment of this camp." "moral sentiment! i 'm backin' up the law, not moral sentiment, ye cross-eyed beer-slinger, an' if ye try edgin' up ther another step i 'll plug you with this ' .'" there was a minute of hesitancy while the men below conferred, the marshal looking contemptuously down upon them, his revolver gleaming ominously in the light. evidently the group hated to go back without the prisoner. "oh, come on, buck, show a little hoss sense," the leader sang out. "we 've got every feller in camp along with us, an' there ain't no show fer the two o' ye to hold out against that sort of an outfit." mason smiled and patted the barrel of his colt. "oh, go to blazes! when i want any advice, jimmie, i'll send fer ye." some one fired, the ball digging up the soft earth at the marshal's feet, and flinging it in a blinding cloud into hampton's eyes. mason's answer was a sudden fusilade, which sent the crowd flying helter-skelter into the underbrush. one among them staggered and half fell, yet succeeded in dragging himself out of sight. "great scott, if i don't believe i winged james!" the shooter remarked cheerfully, reaching back into his pocket for more cartridges. "maybe them boys will be a bit more keerful if they once onderstand they 're up agin the real thing. well, perhaps i better skin down, fer i reckon it's liable ter be rifles next." it was rifles next, and the "winging" of big jim, however it may have inspired caution, also developed fresh animosity in the hearts of his followers, and brought forth evidences of discipline in their approach. peering across the sheltering dump pile, the besieged were able to perceive the dark figures cautiously advancing through the protecting brush; they spread out widely until their two flanks were close in against the wall of rock, and then the deadly rifles began to spit spitefully, the balls casting up the soft dirt in clouds or flattening against the stones. the two men crouched lower, hugging their pile of slag, unable to perceive even a stray assailant within range of their ready revolvers. hampton remained cool, alert, and motionless, striving in vain to discover some means of escape, but the little marshal kept grimly cheerful, creeping constantly from point to point in the endeavor to get a return shot at his tormentors. "this whole blame country is full of discharged sojers," he growled, "an' they know their biz all right. i reckon them fellers is pretty sure to git one of us yit; anyhow, they 've got us cooped. say, bob, thet lad crawling yonder ought to be in reach, an' it's our bounden duty not to let the boys git too gay." hampton tried the shot suggested, elevating considerable to overcome distance. there was a yell, and a swift skurrying backward which caused mason to laugh, although neither knew whether this result arose from fright or wound. "'bliged ter teach 'em manners onct in a while, or they 'll imbibe a fool notion they kin come right 'long up yere without no invite. 't ain't fer long, no how, 'less all them guys are ijuts." hampton turned his head and looked soberly into the freckled face, impressed by the speaker's grave tone. "why?" "fire, my boy, fire. the wind's dead right fer it; thet brush will burn like so much tinder, an' with this big wall o' rock back of us, it will be hell here, all right. some of 'em are bound to think of it pretty blame soon, an' then, bob, i reckon you an' i will hev' to take to the open on the jump." hampton's eyes hardened. god, how he desired to live just then, to uncover that fleeing murphy and wring from him the whole truth which had been eluding him all these years! surely it was not justice that all should be lost now. the smoke puffs rose from the encircling rifles, and the hunted men cowered still lower, the whistling of the bullets in their ears. chapter xiii "she loves me; she loves me not" unkind as the fates had proved to brant earlier in the day, they relented somewhat as the sun rose higher, and consented to lead him to far happier scenes. there is a rare fortune which seems to pilot lovers aright, even when they are most blind to the road, and the young soldier was now most truly a lover groping through the mists of doubt and despair. it was no claim of military duty which compelled him to relinquish miss spencer so promptly at the hotel door, but rather a desire to escape her ceaseless chatter and gain retirement where he could reflect in quiet over the revelations of hampton. in this quest he rode slowly up the valley of the bear water, through the bright sunshine, the rare beauty of the scene scarcely leaving the slightest impress on his mind, so busy was it, and so preoccupied. he no longer had any doubt that hampton had utilized his advantageous position, as well as his remarkable powers of pleasing, to ensnare the susceptible heart of this young, confiding girl. while the man had advanced no direct claim, he had said enough to make perfectly clear the close intimacy of their relation and the existence of a definite understanding between them. with this recognized as a fact, was he justified in endeavoring to win naida gillis for himself? that the girl would find continued happiness with such a man as hampton he did not for a moment believe possible; that she had been deliberately deceived regarding his true character he felt no doubt. the fellow had impressed her by means of his picturesque personality, his cool, dominating manner, his veneer of refinement; he had presumed on her natural gratitude, her girlish susceptibility, her slight knowledge of the world, to worm his way into her confidence, perhaps even to inspire love. these probabilities, as brant understood them, only served to render him more ardent in his quest, more eager to test his strength in the contest for a prize so well worth the winning. he acknowledged no right that such a man as hampton could justly hold over so innocent and trustful a heart. the girl was morally so far above him as to make his very touch a profanation, and at the unbidden thought of it, the soldier vowed to oppose such an unholy consummation. nor did he, even then, utterly despair of winning, for he recalled afresh the intimacy of their few past meetings, his face brightening in memory of this and that brief word or shy glance. there is a voiceless language of love which a lover alone can interpret, and brant rode on slowly, deciphering its messages, and attaining new courage with every step of his horse. all the world loves a lover, and all the fairies guide him. as the officer's eyes, already smiling in anticipated victory, glanced up from the dusty road, he perceived just ahead the same steep bank down which he had plunged in his effort at capturing his fleeing tormentor. with the sight there came upon him a desire to loiter again in the little glen where they had first met, and dream once more of her who had given to the shaded nook both life and beauty. amid the sunshine and the shadow he could picture afresh that happy, piquant face, the dark coils of hair, those tantalizing eyes. he swung himself from the saddle, tied a loose rein to a scrub oak, and clambered up the bank. with the noiseless step of a plainsman he pushed in through the labyrinths of bush, only to halt petrified upon the very edge of that inner barrier. no figment of imagination, but the glowing reality of flesh and blood, awaited him. she had neither seen nor heard his approach, and he stopped in perplexity. he had framed a dozen speeches for her ears, yet now he could do no more than stand and gaze, his heart in his eyes. and it was a vision to enchain, to hold lips speechless. she was seated with unstudied grace on the edge of the bank, her hands clasped about one knee, her sweet face sobered by thought, her eyes downcast, the long lashes plainly outlined against the clear cheeks. he marked the graceful sweep of her dark, close-fitting dress, the white fringe of dainty underskirt, the small foot, neatly booted, peeping from beneath, and the glimpse of round, white throat, rendered even fairer by the creamy lace encircling it. against the darker background of green shrubs she resembled a picture entitled "dreaming," which he dimly recalled lingering before in some famous eastern gallery, and his heart beat faster in wonderment at what the mystic dream might be. to draw back unobserved was impossible, even had he possessed strength of will sufficient to make the attempt, nor would words of easy greeting come to his relief. he could merely worship silently as before a sacred shrine. it was thus she glanced up and saw him with startled eyes, her hands unclasping, her cheeks rose-colored. "lieutenant brant, you here?" she exclaimed, speaking as if his presence seemed unreal. "what strange miracles an idle thought can work!" "thoughts, i have heard," he replied, coming toward her with head uncovered, "will sometimes awaken answers through vast distances of time and space. as my thought was with you i may be altogether to blame for thus arousing your own. from the expression of your face i supposed you dreaming." she smiled, her eyes uplifted for a single instant to his own. "it was rather thought just merging into dream, and there are few things in life more sweet. i know not whether it is the common gift of all minds, but my day-dreams are almost more to me than my realities." "first it was moods, and now dreams." he seated himself comfortably at her feet. "you would cause me to believe you a most impractical person, miss naida." she laughed frankly, that rippling peal of unaffected merriment which sounded so like music to his ears. "if that were only true, i am sure i should be most happy, for it has been my fortune so far to conjure up only pleasure through day-dreaming--the things i like and long for become my very own then. but if you mean, as i suspect, that i do not enjoy the dirt and drudgery of life, then my plea will have to be guilty. i, of course, grant their necessity, yet apparently there are plenty who find them well worth while, and there should be other work for those who aspire. back of what you term practical some one has said there is always a dream, a first conception. in that sense i choose to be a dreamer." "and not so unwise a choice, if your dreams only tend toward results." he sat looking into her animated face, deeply puzzled by both words and actions. "i cannot help noticing that you avoid all reference to my meeting with mr. hampton. is this another sign of your impractical mind?" "i should say rather the opposite, for i had not even supposed it concerned me." "indeed! that presents a vastly different view from the one given us an hour since. the distinct impression was then conveyed to both our minds that you were greatly distressed regarding the matter. is it possible you can have been acting again?" "i? certainly not!" and she made no attempt to hide her indignation. "what can you mean?" he hesitated an instant in his reply, feeling that possibly he was treading upon thin ice. but her eyes commanded a direct answer, and he yielded to them. "we were informed that you experienced great anxiety for fear we might quarrel,--so great, indeed, that you had confided your troubles to another." "to whom?" "miss spencer. she came to us ostensibly in your name, and as a peacemaker." a moment she sat gazing directly at him, then she laughed softly. "why, how supremely ridiculous; i can hardly believe it true, only your face tells me you certainly are not in play. lieutenant brant, i have never even dreamed of such a thing. you had informed me that your mission was one of peace, and he pledged me his word not to permit any quarrel. i had the utmost confidence in you both." "how, then, did she even know of our meeting?" "i am entirely in the dark, as mystified as you," she acknowledged, frankly, "for it has certainly never been a habit with me to betray the confidence of my friends, and i learned long since not to confide secrets to miss spencer." apparently neither cared to discuss the problem longer, yet he remained silent considering whether to venture the asking of those questions which might decide his fate. he was uncertain of the ground he occupied, while miss naida, with all her frankness, was not one to approach thoughtlessly, nor was the sword of her tongue without sharp point. "you speak of your confidence in us both," he said, slowly. "to me the complete trust you repose in mr. hampton is scarcely comprehensible. do you truly believe in his reform?" "certainly. don't you?" the direct return question served to nettle and confuse him. "it is, perhaps, not my place to say, as my future happiness does not directly depend on the permanence of his reformation. but if his word can be depended upon, your happiness to a very large extent does." she bowed. "i have no doubt you can safely repose confidence in whatever he may have told you regarding me." "you indorse, then, the claims he advances?" "you are very insistent; yet i know of no good reason why i should not answer. without at all knowing the nature of those claims to which you refer, i have no hesitancy in saying that i possess such complete confidence in bob hampton as to reply unreservedly yes. but really, lieutenant brant, i should prefer talking upon some other topic. it is evident that you two gentlemen are not friendly, yet there is no reason why any misunderstanding between you should interfere with our friendship, is there?" she asked this question with such perfect innocence that brant believed she failed to comprehend hampton's claims. "i have been informed that it must," he explained. "i have been told that i was no longer to force my attentions upon miss gillis." "by bob hampton?" "yes. those were, i believe, his exact words. can you wonder that i hardly know how i stand in your sight?" "i do not at all understand," she faltered. "truly, lieutenant brant, i do not. i feel that mr. hampton would not say that without a good and sufficient reason. he is not a man to be swayed by prejudice; yet, whatever the reason may be, i know nothing about it." "but you do not answer my last query." "perhaps i did not hear it." "it was, how do i stand in your sight? that is of far more importance to me now than any unauthorized command from mr. hampton." she glanced up into his serious face shyly, with a little dimple of returning laughter. "indeed; but perhaps he might not care to have me say. however, as i once informed you that you were very far from being my ideal, possibly it may now be my duty to qualify that harsh statement somewhat." "by confessing that i am your ideal?" "oh, indeed, no! we never realize our ideals, you know, or else they would entirely cease to be ideals. my confession is limited to a mere admission that i now consider you a very pleasant young man." "you offer me a stone when i cry unto you for bread," he exclaimed. "the world is filled with pleasant young men. they are a drug on the market. i beg some special distinction, some different classification in your eyes." "you are becoming quite hard to please," her face turned partially away, her look meditative, "and--and dictatorial; but i will try. you are intelligent, a splendid dancer, fairly good-looking, rather bright at times, and, no doubt, would prove venturesome if not held strictly to your proper place. take it all in all, you are even interesting, and--i admit--i am inclined to like you." the tantalizing tone and manner nerved him; he grasped the white hand resting invitingly on the grass, and held it firmly within his own. "you only make sport as you did once before. i must have the whole truth." "oh, no; to make sport at such a time would be sheerest mockery, and i would never dare to be so free. why, remember we are scarcely more than strangers. how rude you are! only our third time of meeting, and you will not release my hand." "not unless i must, naida," and the deep ringing soberness of his voice startled the girl into suddenly uplifting her eyes to his face. what she read there instantly changed her mood from playfulness to earnest gravity. "oh, please do not--do not say what you are tempted to," her voice almost pleading. "i cannot listen; truly i cannot; i must not. it would make us both very unhappy, and you would be sure to regret such hasty words." "regret!" and he yet clung to the hand which she scarcely endeavored to release, bending forward, hoping to read in her hidden eyes the secret her lips guarded. "am i, then, not old enough to know my own mind?" "yes--yes; i hope so, yes; but it is not for me; it can never be for me--i am no more than a child, a homeless waif, a nobody. you forget that i do not even know who i am, or the name i ought rightfully to bear. i will not have it so." "naida, sweetheart!" and he burst impetuously through all bonds of restraint, her flushed cheeks the inspiration to his daring. "i will speak, for i care nothing for all this. it is you i love--love forever. do you understand me, darling? i love you! i love you!" for an instant,--one glad, weak, helpless, forgetful instant,--she did not see him, did not even know herself; the very world was lost. then she awoke as if from a dream, his strong arms clasped about her, his lips upon hers. "you must not," she sobbed. "i tell you no! i will not consent; i will not be false to myself. you have no right; i gave you no right." he permitted her to draw away, and they stood facing each other, he eager, mystified, thrilling with passion almost beyond mastery, she trembling and unstrung, her cheeks crimson, her eyes filled with mute appeal. "i read it in your face," he insisted. "it told of love." "then my face must have lied," she answered, her soft voice tremulous, "or else you read the message wrongly. it is from my lips you must take the answer." "and they kissed me." "if so, i knew it not. it was by no volition of mine. lieutenant brant, i have trusted you so completely; that was not right." "my heart exonerates me." "i cannot accept that guidance." "then you do not love me." she paused, afraid of the impulse that swept her on. "perhaps," the low voice scarcely audible, "i may love you too well." "you mean there is something--some person, perhaps--standing between?" she looked frankly at him. "i do mean just that. i am not heartless, and i sincerely wish we had never met; but this must be the end." "the end? and with no explanation?" "there is no other way." he could perceive tears in her eyes, although she spoke bravely. "nor can i explain, for all is not clear even to me. but this i know, there is a barrier between us insurmountable; not even the power of love can overcome it; and i appeal to you to ask me no more." it was impossible for him to doubt her sober earnestness, or the depth of her feelings; the full truth in her words was pictured upon her face, and in the pathetic appeal of her eyes. she extended both hands. "you will forgive me? truly, this barrier has not been raised by me." he bowed low, until his lips pressed the white fingers, but before he could master himself to utter a word in reply, a distant voice called his name, and both glanced hastily around. "that cry came from the valley," he said. "i left my horse tied there. i will go and learn what it means." she followed him part of the way through the labyrinth of underbrush, hardly knowing why she did so. he stood alone upon the summit of the high bluff whence he could look across the stream. miss spencer stood below waving her parasol frantically, and even as he gazed at her, his ears caught the sound of heavy firing down the valley. chapter xiv plucked from the burning that miss spencer was deeply agitated was evident at a glance, while the nervous manner in which she glanced in the direction of those distant gun shots, led brant to jump to the conclusion that they were in some way connected with her appearance. "oh, lieutenant brant," she cried, excitedly, "they are going to kill him down there, and he never did it at all. i know he didn't, and so does mr. wynkoop. oh, please hurry! nobody knew where you were, until i saw your horse tied here, and mr. wynkoop has been hunting for you everywhere. he is nearly frantic, poor man, and i cannot learn where either mr. moffat or mr. mcneil is, and i just know those dreadful creatures will kill him before we can get help." "kill whom?" burst in brant, springing down the bank fully awakened to the realization of some unknown emergency. "my dear miss spencer, tell me your story quickly if you wish me to act. who is in danger, and from what?" the girl burst into tears, but struggled bravely through with her message. "it's those awful men, the roughs and rowdies down in glencaid. they say he murdered red slavin, that big gambler who spoke to me this morning, but he did n't, for i saw the man who did, and so did mr. wynkoop. he jumped out of the saloon window, his hand all bloody, and ran away. but they 've got him and the town marshal up behind the shasta dump, and swear they're going to hang him if they can only take him alive. oh, just hear those awful guns!" "yes, but who is it?" "bob hampton, and--and he never did it at all." before brant could either move or speak, naida swept past him, down the steep bank, and her voice rang out clear, insistent. "bob hampton attacked by a mob? is that true, phoebe? they are fighting at the shasta dump, you say? lieutenant brant, you must act--you must act now, for my sake!" she sprang toward the horse, nerved by brant's apparent slowness to respond, and loosened the rein from the scrub oak. "then i will myself go to him, even if they kill me also, the cowards!" but brant had got his head now. grasping her arm and the rein of the plunging horse, "you will go home," he commanded, with the tone of military authority. "go home with miss spencer. all that can possibly be done to aid hampton i shall do--will you go?" she looked helplessly into his face. "you--you don't like him," she faltered; "i know you don't. but--but you will help him, won't you, for my sake?" he crushed back an oath. "like him or not like him, i will save him if it be in the power of man. now will you go?" "yes," she answered, and suddenly extended her arms. "kiss me first." with the magical pressure of her lips upon his, he swung into the saddle and spurred down the road. it was a principle of his military training never to temporize with a mob--he would strike hard, but he must have sufficient force behind him. he reined up before the seemingly deserted camp, his horse flung back upon its haunches, white foam necking its quivering flanks. "sergeant!" the sharp snap of his voice brought that officer forward on the run. "where are the men?" "playin' ball, most of 'em, sir, just beyond the ridge." "are the horses out in herd?" "yes, sir." "sound the recall; arm and mount every man; bring them into glencaid on the gallop. do you know the old shasta mine?" "no, sir." "half-way up the hill back of the hotel. you 'll find me somewhere in front of it. this is a matter of life or death, so jump lively now!" he drove in his spurs, and was off like the wind. a number of men were in the street, all hurrying forward in the same direction, but he dashed past them. these were miners mostly, eager to have a hand in the man-hunt. here and there a rider skurried along and joined in the chase. just beyond the hotel, half-way up the hill, rifles were speaking irregularly, the white puffs of smoke blown quickly away by the stiff breeze. near the centre of this line of skirmishers a denser cloud was beginning to rise in spirals. brant, perceiving the largest group of men gathered just before him, rode straight toward them. the crowd scattered slightly at his rapid approach, but promptly closed in again as he drew up his horse with taut rein. he looked down into rough, bearded faces. clearly enough these men were in no fit spirit for peace-making. "you damn fool!" roared one, hoarsely, his gun poised as if in threat, "what do you mean by riding us down like that? do you own this country?" brant flung himself from the saddle and strode in front of the fellow. "i mean business. you see this uniform? strike that, my man, and you strike the united states. who is leading this outfit?" "i don't know as it's your affair," the man returned, sullenly. "we ain't takin' no army orders at present, mister. we 're free-born american citizens, an' ye better let us alone." "that is not what i asked you," and brant squared his shoulders, his hands clinched. "my question was, who is at the head of this outfit? and i want an answer." the spokesman looked around upon the others near him with a grin of derision. "oh, ye do, hey? well, i reckon we are, if you must know. since big jim larson got it in the shoulder this outfit right yere hes bin doin' most of the brain work. so, if ye 've got anythin' ter say, mister officer man, i reckon ye better spit it out yere ter me, an' sorter relieve yer mind." "who are you?" the fellow expectorated vigorously into the leaves under foot, and drawing one hairy hand across his lips, flushed angrily to the unexpected inquiry. "oh, tell him, ben. what's the blame odds? he can't do ye no hurt." the man's look became dogged. "i 'm ben colton, if it 'll do ye any good to know." "i thought i had seen you somewhere before," said brant, contemptuously, and then swept his glance about the circle. "a nice leader of vigilantes you are, a fine representative of law and order, a lovely specimen of the free-born american citizen! men, do you happen to know what sort of a cur you are following in this affair?" "oh, ben's all right." "what ye got against him, young feller?" "just this," and brant squarely fronted the man, his voice ringing like steel. "i 've seen mobs before to-day, and i 've dealt with them. i 'm not afraid of you or your whole outfit, and i 've got fighting men to back me up. i never yet saw any mob which was n't led and incited by some cowardly, revengeful rascal. honest men get mixed up in such affairs, but they are invariably inflamed by some low-down sneak with an axe to grind. i confess i don't know all about this colton, but i know enough to say he is an army deserter, a liar, a dive-keeper, a gambler, and, to my certain knowledge, the direct cause of the death of three men, one a soldier of my troop. now isn't he a sweet specimen to lead in the avenging of a supposed crime?" whatever else colton might have failed in, he was a man of action. like a flash his gun flew to the level, but was instantly knocked aside by the grizzled old miner standing next him. "none o' that, ben," he growled, warningly. "it don't never pay to shoot holes in uncle sam." brant smiled. he was not there just then to fight, but to secure delay until his own men could arrive, and to turn aside the fierce mob spirit if such a result was found possible. he knew thoroughly the class of men with whom he dealt, and he understood likewise the wholesome power of his uniform. "i really would enjoy accommodating you, colton," he said, coolly, feeling much more at ease, "but i never fight personal battles with such fellows as you. and now, you other men, it is about time you woke up to the facts of this matter. a couple of hundred of you chasing after two men, one an officer of the law doing his sworn duty, and the other innocent of any crime. i should imagine you would feel proud of your job." "innocent? hell!" "that is what i said. you fellows have gone off half-cocked--a mob generally does. both miss spencer and mr. wynkoop state positively that they saw the real murderer of red slavin, and it was not bob hampton." the men were impressed by his evident earnestness, his unquestioned courage. colton laughed sneeringly, but brant gave him no heed beyond a quick, warning glance. several voices spoke almost at once. "is that right?" "oh, say, i saw the fellow with his hand on the knife." "after we git the chap, we 'll give them people a chance to tell what they know." brant's keenly attentive ears heard the far-off chug of numerous horses' feet. "i rather think you will," he said, confidently, his voice ringing out with sudden authority. he stepped back, lifted a silver whistle to his lips, and sounded one sharp, clear note. there was a growing thunder of hoofs, a quick, manly cheer, a crashing through the underbrush, and a squad of eager troopers, half-dressed but with faces glowing in anticipation of trouble, came galloping up the slope, swinging out into line as they advanced, their carbines gleaming in the sunlight. it was prettily, sharply performed, and their officer's face brightened. "very nicely done, watson," he said to the expectant sergeant. "deploy your men to left and right, and clear out those shooters. make a good job of it, but no firing unless you have to." the troopers went at it as if they enjoyed the task, forcing their restive horses through the thickets, and roughly handling more than one who ventured to question their authority. yet the work was over in less time than it takes to tell, the discomfited regulators driven pell-mell down the hill and back into the town, the eager cavalrymen halting only at the command of the bugle. brant, confident of his first sergeant in such emergency, merely paused long enough to watch the men deploy, and then pressed straight up the hill, alone and on foot. that danger to the besieged was yet imminent was very evident. the black spiral of smoke had become an enveloping cloud, spreading rapidly in both directions from its original starting-point, and already he could distinguish the red glare of angry flames leaping beneath, fanned by the wind into great sheets of fire, and sweeping forward with incredible swiftness. these might not succeed in reaching the imprisoned men, but the stifling vapor, the suffocating smoke held captive by that overhanging rock, would prove a most serious menace. he encountered a number of men running down as he toiled anxiously forward, but they avoided him, no doubt already aware of the trouble below and warned by his uniform. he arrived finally where the ground was charred black and covered with wood ashes, still hot under foot and smoking, but he pressed upward, sheltering his eyes with uplifted arm, and seeking passage where the scarcity of underbrush rendered the zone of fire less impassable. on both sides trees were already wrapped in flame, yet he discovered a lane along which he stumbled until a fringe of burning bushes extended completely across it. the heat was almost intolerable, the crackling of the ignited wood was like the reports of pistols, the dense pall of smoke was suffocating. he could see scarcely three yards in advance, but to the rear the narrow lane of retreat remained open. standing there, as though in the mouth of a furnace, the red flames scorching his face, brant hollowed his hands for a call. "hampton!" the word rang out over the infernal crackling and roaring like the note of a trumpet. "ay! what is it?" the returning voice was plainly not hampton's, yet it came from directly in front, and not faraway. "who are you? is that you, marshal?" "thet's the ticket," answered the voice, gruffly, "an' just as full o' fight es ever." brant lifted his jacket to protect his face from the scorching heat. there was certainly no time to lose in any exchange of compliments. already, the flames were closing in; in five minutes more they would seal every avenue of escape. "i 'm brant, lieutenant seventh cavalry," he cried, choking with the thickening smoke. "my troop has scattered those fellows who were hunting you. i 'll protect you and your prisoner, but you 'll have to get out of there at once. can you locate me and make a dash for it? wrap your coats around your heads, and leave your guns behind." an instant he waited for the answer, fairly writhing in the intense heat, then mason shouted, "hampton 's been shot, and i 'm winged a little; i can't carry him." it was a desperately hard thing to do, but brant had given his promise, and in that moment of supreme trial, he had no other thought than fulfilling it. he ripped off his jacket, wrapped it about his face, jammed a handkerchief into his mouth, and, with a prayer in his heart, leaped forward into the seemingly narrow fringe of fire in his front. head down, he ran blindly, stumbling forward as he struck the ore-dump, and beating out with his hands the sparks that scorched his clothing. the smoke appeared to roll higher from the ground here, and the coughing soldier crept up beneath it, breathing the hot air, and feeling as though his entire body were afire. mason, his countenance black and unrecognizable, his shirt soaked with blood, peered into his face. "hell, ain't it!" he sputtered, "but you're a dandy, all right." "is hampton dead?" "i reckon not. got hit bad, though, and clear out of his head." brant cast one glance into the white, unconscious face of his rival, and acted with the promptness of military training. "whip off your shirt, mason, and tie it around your face," he commanded, "lively now!" he bound his silk neckerchief across hampton's mouth, and lifted the limp form partially from the ground. "help me to get him up. there, that will do. now keep as close as you can so as to steady him if i trip. straight ahead--run for it!" they sprang directly into the lurid flames, bending low, brant's hands grasping the inert form lying across his shoulder. they dashed stumbling through the black, smouldering lane beyond. half-way down this, the ground yet hot beneath their feet, the vapor stifling, but with clearer breaths of air blowing in their faces, brant tripped and fell. mason beat out the smouldering sparks in his clothing, and assisted him to stagger to his feet once more. then together they bore him, now unconscious, slowly down below the first fire-line. [illustration: together they bore him, now unconscious, slowly down below the first fire-line.] chapter xv the door closes totally exhausted, the two men dropped their heavy burden on the earth. mason swore as the blood began dripping again from his wound, which had been torn open afresh in his efforts to bear hampton to safety. just below them a mounted trooper caught sight of them and came forward. he failed to recognize his officer in the begrimed person before him, until called to attention by the voice of command. "sims, if there is any water in your canteen hand it over. good; here, marshal, use this. now, sims, note what i say carefully, and don't waste a minute. tell the first sergeant to send a file of men up here with some sort of litter, on the run. then you ride to the herndon house--the yellow house where the roads fork, you remember,--and tell miss naida gillis (don't forget the name) that mr. hampton has been seriously wounded, and we are taking him to the hotel. can you remember that?" "yes, sir." "then off with you, and don't spare the horse." he was gone instantly, and brant began bathing the pallid, upturned face. "you'd better lie down, marshal," he commanded. "you're pretty weak from loss of blood, and i can do all there is to be done until those fellows get here." in fifteen minutes they appeared, and five minutes later they were toiling slowly down to the valley, brant walking beside his still unconscious rival. squads of troopers were scattered along the base of the hill, and grouped in front of the hotel. here and there down the street, but especially about the steps of the occidental, were gathered the discomfited vigilantes, busily discussing the affair, and cursing the watchful, silent guard. as these caught sight of the little party approaching, there were shouts of derision, which swelled into triumph when they perceived hampton's apparently lifeless form, and mason leaning in weakness on the arm of a trooper. the sight and sound angered brant. "carry hampton to his room and summon medical attendance at once," he ordered. "i have a word to say to those fellows." seeing mr. wynkoop on the hotel porch, brant said to him: "miss spencer informed me that you saw a man leap from the back window of the occidental. is that true?" the missionary nodded. "good; then come along with me. i intend breaking the back of this lynching business right here and now." he strode directly across the street to the steps of the occidental, his clothing scarcely more than smouldering rags. the crowd stared at him sullenly; then suddenly a reaction came, and the american spirit of fair play, the frontier appreciation of bulldog courage, burst forth into a confused murmur, that became half a cheer. brant did not mince his words. "now, look here, men! if you want any more trouble we 're here to accommodate you. fighting is our trade, and we don't mind working at it. but i wish to tell you right now, and straight off the handle, that you are simply making a parcel of fools of yourselves. slavin has been killed, and nine out of ten among you are secretly glad of it. he was a curse to this camp, but because some of his friends and cronies--thugs, gamblers, and dive-keepers--accuse bob hampton of having killed him, you start in blindly to lynch hampton, never even waiting to find out whether the charge is the truth or a lie. you act like sheep, not american citizens. now that we have pounded a little sense into some of you, perhaps you'll listen to the facts, and if you must hang some one put your rope on the right man. bob hampton did not kill red slavin. the fellow who did kill him climbed out of the back window of the occidental here, and got away, while you were chasing the wrong man. mr. wynkoop saw him, and so did your schoolteacher, miss spencer." then wynkoop stepped gamely to the front. "all that is true, men. i have been trying ever since to tell you, but no one would listen. miss spencer and i both saw the man jump from the window; there was blood on his right arm and hand. he was a misshapen creature whom neither of us ever saw before, and he disappeared on a run up that ravine. i have no doubt he was slavin's murderer." no one spoke, the crowd apparently ashamed of their actions. but brant did not wait for any outward expression. "now, you fellows, think that over," he said. "i intend to post a guard until i find out whether you are going to prove yourselves fools or men, but if we sail in again those of you who start the trouble can expect to get hurt, and pay the piper. that's all." in front of the hotel porch he met his first sergeant coming out. "what does the doctor say about hampton?" "a very bad wound, sir, but not necessarily fatal; he has regained consciousness." "has miss gillis arrived?" "i don't know, sir; there's a young woman cryin' in the parlor." the lieutenant leaped up the steps and entered the house. but it was miss spencer, not naida, who sprang to her feet. "oh, lieutenant brant; can this be truly you! how perfectly awful you look! do you know if mr. hampton is really going to die? i came here just to find out about him, and tell naida. she is almost frantic, poor thing." though brant doubted miss spencer's honesty of statement, his reply was direct and unhesitating. "i am informed that he has a good chance to live, and i have already despatched word to miss gillis regarding his condition. i expect her at any moment." "how very nice that was of you! oh, i trembled so when you first went to face those angry men! i don't see how you ever dared to do it. i did wish that either mr. moffat or mr. mcneil could have been here to go with you. mr. moffat especially is so daring; he is always risking his life for some one else--and no one seems able to tell me anything about either of them." the lady paused, blushing violently, as she realized what she had been saying. "really you must not suppose me unmaidenly, lieutenant," she explained, her eyes shyly lifting, "but you know those gentlemen were my very earliest acquaintances here, and they have been so kind. i was so shocked when naida kissed you, lieutenant; but the poor girl was so grateful to you for going to the help of bob hampton that she completely forgot herself. it is simply wonderful how infatuated the poor child is with that man. he seems almost to exercise some power of magic over her, don't you think?" "why frankly, miss spencer, i scarcely feel like discussing that topic just now. there are so many duties pressing me--" and brant took a hasty step toward the open door, his attentive ear catching the sound of a light footstep in the hallway. he met naida just without, pale and tearless. both her hands were extended to him unreservedly. "tell me, will he live?" "the doctor thinks yes." "thank god! oh, thank god!" she pressed one hand against her heart to control its throbbing. "you cannot know what this means to me." her eyes seemed now for the first time to mark his own deplorable condition. "and you? you have not been hurt, lieutenant brant?" he smiled back into her anxious eyes. "nothing that soap and water and a few days' retirement will not wholly remedy. my wounds are entirely upon the surface. shall i conduct you to him?" she bowed, apparently forgetful that one of her hands yet remained imprisoned in his grasp. "if i may go, yes. i told mrs. herndon i should remain here if i could be of the slightest assistance." they passed up the staircase side by side, exchanging no further speech. once she glanced furtively at his face, but its very calmness kept the words upon her lips unuttered. at the door they encountered mrs. guffy, her honest eyes red from weeping. "this is miss gillis, mrs. guffy," explained brant. "she wishes to see mr. hampton if it is possible." "sure an' she can thet. he's been askin' after her, an' thet pretty face would kape any man in gud spirits, i 'm thinkin'. step roight in, miss." she held the door ajar, but naida paused, glancing back at her motionless companion, a glint of unshed tears showing for the first time in her eyes. "are you not coming also?" "no, miss naida. it is best for me to remain without, but my heart goes with you." then the door closed between them. chapter xvi the rescue of miss spencer while hampton lingered between life and death, assiduously waited upon by both naida and mrs. guffy, brant nursed his burns, far more serious than he had at first supposed, within the sanctity of his tent, longing for an order to take him elsewhere, and dreading the possibility of again having to encounter this girl, who remained to him so perplexing an enigma. glencaid meanwhile recovered from its mania of lynch-law, and even began exhibiting some faint evidences of shame over what was so plainly a mistake. and the populace were also beginning to exhibit no small degree of interest in the weighty matters which concerned the fast-culminating love affairs of miss spencer. almost from her earliest arrival the extensive cattle and mining interests of the neighborhood became aggressively arrayed against each other; and now, as the fierce personal rivalry between messrs. moffat and mcneil grew more intense, the breach perceptibly widened. while the infatuation of the reverend mr. wynkoop for this same fascinating young lady was plainly to be seen, his chances in the race were not seriously regarded by the more active partisans upon either side. as the stage driver explained to an inquisitive party of tourists, "he 's a mighty fine little feller, gents, but he ain't got the git up an' git necessary ter take the boundin' fancy of a high-strung heifer like her. it needs a plum good man ter' rope an' tie any female critter in this territory, let me tell ye." with this conception of the situation in mind, the citizens generally settled themselves down to enjoy the truly homeric struggle, freely wagering their gold-dust upon the outcome. the regular patrons of the miners' retreat were backing mr. moffat to a man, while those claiming headquarters at the occidental were equally ardent in their support of the prospects of mr. mcneil. it must be confessed that miss spencer flirted outrageously, and enjoyed life as she never had done in the effete east. in simple truth, it was not in miss spencer's sympathetic disposition to be cruel to any man, and in this puzzling situation she exhibited all the impartiality possible. the reverend mr. wynkoop always felt serenely confident of an uninterrupted welcome upon sunday evenings after service, while the other nights of the week were evenly apportioned between the two more ardent aspirants. the delvers after mineral wealth amid the hills, and the herders on the surrounding ranches, felt that this was a personal matter between them, and acted accordingly. three-finger boone, who was caught red-handed timing the exact hour of mr. moffat's exit from his lady-love's presence, was indignantly ducked in the watering-trough before the miners' retreat, and given ten minutes in which to mount his cayuse and get safely across the camp boundaries. he required only five. bad-eye connelly, who was suspected of having cut mr. mcneil's lariat while that gentleman tarried at the occidental for some slight refreshments while on his way home, was very promptly rendered a fit hospital subject by an inquisitive cowman who happened upon the scene. on monday, wednesday, and friday evenings the miners' retreat was a scene of wild hilarity, for it was then that mr. moffat, gorgeously arrayed in all the bright hues of his imported mexican outfit, his long silky mustaches properly curled, his melancholy eyes vast wells of mysterious sorrow, was known to be comfortably seated in the herndon parlor, relating gruesome tales of wild mountain adventure which paled the cheeks of his fair and entranced listener. then on tuesday, thursday, and saturday nights, when mr. mcneil rode gallantly in on his yellow bronco, bedecked in all the picturesque paraphernalia of the boundless plains, revolver swinging at thigh, his wide sombrero shadowing his dare-devil eyes, the front of the gay occidental blazed with lights, and became crowded to the doors with enthusiastic herders drinking deep to the success of their representative. it is no more than simple justice to the fair phoebe to state that she was, as her aunt expressed it, "in a dreadful state of mind." between these two picturesque and typical knights of plain and mountain she vibrated, unable to make deliberate choice. that she was ardently loved by each she realized with recurring thrills of pleasure; that she loved in return she felt no doubt--but alas! which? how perfectly delightful it would be could she only fall into some desperate plight, from which the really daring knight might rescue her! that would cut the gordian knot. while laboring in this state of indecision she must have voiced her ambition in some effective manner to the parties concerned, for late one wednesday night moffat tramped heavily into the miners' retreat and called long pete lumley over into a deserted corner of the bar-room. "well, jack," the latter began expectantly, "hev ye railly got the cinch on that cowboy at last, hey?" "dern it all, pete, i 'm blamed if i know; leastwise, i ain't got no sure prove-up. i tell ye thet girl's just about the toughest piece o' rock i ever had any special call to assay. i think first i got her good an' proper, an' then she drops out all of a sudden, an' i lose the lead. it's mighty aggravating let me tell ye. ye see it's this way. she 's got some durn down east-notion that she's got ter be rescued, an' borne away in the arms of her hero (thet's 'bout the way she puts it), like they do in them pesky novels the kid 's allers reading and so i reckon i 've got ter rescue her!" "rescue her from whut, jack? thar' ain't nuthin' 'round yere just now as i know of, less it's rats." the lover glanced about to make sure they were alone. "well, ye see, pete, maybe i 'm partly to blame. i 've sorter been entertainin' her nights with some stories regardin' road-agents an' things o' thet sort, while, so fur as i kin larn, thet blame chump of a mcneil hes been fillin' her up scandalous with injuns, until she 's plum got 'em on the brain. ye know a feller jist hes ter gas along 'bout somethin' like thet, fer it's no fool job ter entertain a female thet's es frisky es a young colt. and now, i reckon as how it's got ter be injuns." "whut's got ter be injuns?" "why thet outfit whut runs off with her, of course. i reckon you fellers will stand in all right ter help pull me out o' this hole?" long pete nodded. "well, pete, this is 'bout whut's got ter be done, es near es i kin figger it out. you pick out maybe half a dozen good fellers, who kin keep their mouths shet, an' make injuns out of 'em. 'tain't likely she 'll ever twig any of the boys fixed up proper in thet sorter outfit--anyhow, she'd be too durned skeered. then you lay fer her, say 'bout next wednesday, out in them carter woods, when she 's comin' home from school. i 'll kinder naturally happen 'long by accident 'bout the head o' the gulch, an' jump in an' rescue her. _sabe_?" lumley gazed at his companion with eyes expressive of admiration. "by thunder, if you haven't got a cocoanut on ye, jack! lord, but thet ought to get her a flyin'! any shootin'?" "sure!" moffat's face exhibited a faint smile at these words of praise. "it wouldn't be no great shucks of a rescue without, an' this hes got ter be the real thing. only, i reckon, ye better shoot high, so thar' won't be no hurt done." when the two gentlemen parted, a few moments later, the conspiracy was fully hatched, all preliminaries perfected, and the gallant rescue of miss spencer assured. indeed, there is some reason now to believe that this desirable result was rendered doubly certain, for as moffat moved slowly past the occidental on his way home, a person attired in chaps and sombrero, and greatly resembling mcneil, was in the back room, breathing some final instructions to a few bosom friends. "now don't--eh--any o' you fellers--eh--go an' forget the place. jump in--eh--lively. just afore she--eh--gits ter thet thick bunch--eh--underbrush, whar' the trail sorter--eh--drops down inter the ravine. an' you chumps wanter--eh--git--yerselves up so she can't pipe any of ye off--eh--in this yere--eh--road-agent act. i tell ye, after what thet--eh--moffat's bin a-pumpin' inter her, she's just got ter be--eh--rescued, an' in blame good style, er--eh--it ain't no go." "oh, you rest easy 'bout all thet, bill," chimed in sandy winn, his black eyes dancing in anticipation of coming fun. "we 'll git up the ornariest outfit whut ever hit the pike." the long shadows of the late afternoon were already falling across the gloomy carter woods, while the red sun sank lower behind old bull mountain. the reverend howard wynkoop, who for more than an hour past had been vainly dangling a fishing-line above the dancing waters of clear creek, now reclined dreamily on the soft turf of the high bank, his eyes fixed upon the distant sky-line. his thoughts were on the flossy hair and animated face of the fair miss spencer, who he momentarily expected would round the edge of the hill, and so deeply did he become sank in blissful reflection as to be totally oblivious to everything but her approach. just above his secret resting-place, where the great woods deepen, and the gloomy shadows lie darkly all through the long afternoons, a small party of hideously painted savages skulked silently in ambush. suddenly to their strained ears was borne the sound of horses' hoofs; and then, all at once, a woman's voice rang out in a single shrill, startled cry. "whut is up?" questioned the leading savage, hoarsely. "is he a-doin' this little job all by hisself?" "dunno," answered the fellow next him, flipping his quirt uneasily; "but i reckon as how it's her as squealed, an' we 'd better be gitting in ter hev our share o' the fun." the "chief," with an oath of disgust, dashed forward, and his band surged after. just below them, and scarcely fifty feet away, a half-score of roughly clad, heavily bearded men were clustered in the centre of the trail, two of their number lifting the unconscious form of a fainting woman upon a horse. "cervera's gang, by gosh!" panted the leading savage. "how did they git yere?" "you bet! she's up agin the real thing," ejaculated a voice beside him. "let's ride 'em off the earth! whoop!" with wild yells to awaken fresh courage, the whole band plunged headlong down the sharp decline, striking the surprised "road-agents" with a force and suddenness which sent half of them sprawling. revolvers flashed, oaths and shouts rang out fiercely, men clinched each other, striking savage blows. lumley grasped the leader of the other party by the hair, and endeavored to beat him over the head with his revolver butt. even as he uplifted his hand to strike, the man's beard fell off, and the two fierce combatants paused as though thunderstruck. "hold on yere, boy!" yelled lumley. "this yere is some blame joke. these fellers is bill mcneil's gang." "by thunder! if it ain't pete lumley," ejaculated the other. "whut did ye hit me fer, ye long-legged minin' jackass?" the explanation was never uttered. out from the surrounding gloom of underbrush a hatless, dishevelled individual on foot suddenly dashed into the centre of that hesitating ring of horsemen. with skilful twist of his foot he sent a dismounted road-agent spinning over backward, and managed to wrench a revolver from his hand. there was a blaze of red flame, a cloud of smoke, six sharp reports, and a wild stampede of frantic horsemen. then the reverend howard wynkoop flung the empty gun disdainfully down into the dirt, stepped directly across the motionless outstretched body, and knelt humbly beside a slender, white-robed figure lying close against the fringe of bushes. tenderly he lifted the fair head to his throbbing bosom, and gazed directly down into the white, unconscious face. even as he looked her eyes unclosed, her body trembling within his arms. "have no fear," he implored, reading terror in the expression of her face. "miss spencer--phoebe--it is only i, mr. wynkoop." "you! have those awful creatures gone?" "yes, yes; be calm, i beg you. there is no longer the slightest danger. i am here to protect you with my life if need be." "oh, howard--mr. wynkoop--it is all so strange, so bewildering; my nerves are so shattered! but it has taught me a great, great lesson. how could i have ever been so blind? i thought mr. moffat and mr. mcneil were such heroes, and yet now in this hour of desperate peril it was you who flew gallantly to my rescue! it is you who are the true western knight!" and mr. wynkoop gazed down into those grateful eyes, and modestly confessed it true. chapter xvii the parting hour to lieutenant brant these proved days of bitterness. his sole comfort was the feeling that he had performed his duty; his sustaining hope, that the increasing rumors of indian atrocity might soon lead to his despatch upon active service. he had called twice upon hampton, both times finding the wounded man propped up in bed, very affable, properly grateful for services rendered, yet avoiding all reference to the one disturbing element between them. once he had accidentally met naida, but their brief conversation left him more deeply mystified then ever, and later she seemed to avoid him altogether. the barrier between them no longer appeared as a figment of her misguided imagination, but rather as a real thing neither patience nor courage might hope to surmount. if he could have flattered himself that naida was depressed also in spirit, the fact might have proved both comfort and inspiration, but to his view her attitude was one of almost total indifference. one day he deemed her but an idle coquette; the next, a warm-hearted woman, doing her duty bravely. yet through it all her power over him never slackened. twice he walked with miss spencer as far as the herndon house, hopeful that that vivacious young lady might chance to let fall some unguarded hint of guidance. but miss spencer was then too deeply immersed in her own affairs of the heart to waste either time or thought upon others. the end to this nervous strain came in the form of an urgent despatch recalling n troop to fort abraham lincoln by forced marches. the commander felt no doubt as to the full meaning of this message, and the soldier in him made prompt and joyful response. little glencaid was almost out of the world so far as recent news was concerned. the military telegraph, however, formed a connecting link with the war department, so that brant knew something of the terrible condition of the northwest. he had thus learned of the consolidation of the hostile savages, incited by sitting bull, into the fastness of the big horn range; he was aware that general crook was already advancing northward from the nebraska line; and he knew it was part of the plan of operation for custer and the seventh cavalry to strike directly westward across the dakota hills. now he realized that he was to be a part of this chosen fighting force, and his heart responded to the summons as to a bugle-call in battle. instantly the little camp was astir, the men feeling the enthusiasm of their officers. with preparations well in hand, brant's thoughts veered once again toward naida--he could not leave her, perhaps ride forth to death, without another effort to learn what was this impassable object between them. he rode down to the herndon house with grave face and sober thought. if he could only understand this girl; if he could only once look into her heart, and know the meaning of her ever-changing actions, her puzzling words! he felt convinced he had surprised the reflection of love within her eyes; but soon the reflection vanished. the end was ever the same--he only knew he loved her. he recalled long the plainly furnished room into which mrs. herndon ushered him to await the girl's appearance--the formal look of the old-fashioned hair-cloth furniture, the prim striped paper on the walls, the green shades at the windows, the clean rag carpet on the floor. the very stiffness chilled him, left him ill at ease. to calm his spirit he walked to a window, and stood staring out into the warm sunlight. then he heard the rustle of naida's skirt and turned to meet her. she was pale from her weeks of nursing, and agitated for fear of what this unexpected call might portend. yet to his thought she appeared calm, her manner restrained. nor could anything be kinder than her first greeting, the frankly extended hand, the words expressive of welcome. "mr. wynkoop informed me a few minutes ago that you had at last received your orders for the north," she said, her lips slightly trembling. "i wondered if you would leave without a word of farewell." he bowed low. "i do not understand how you could doubt, for i have shown my deep interest in you even from the first. if i have lately seemed to avoid you, it has only been because i believed you wished it so." a slight flush tinged the pallor of her cheeks, while the long lashes drooped over the eyes, concealing their secrets. "life is not always as easy to live aright as it appears upon the surface," she confessed. "i am learning that i cannot always do just as i should like, but must content myself with the performance of duty. shall we not be seated?" there was an embarrassing pause, as though neither knew how to get through the interview. "no doubt you are rejoiced to be sent on active service again," she said, at last. "yes, both as a soldier and as a man, miss naida. i am glad to get into the field again with my regiment, to do my duty under the flag, and i am equally rejoiced to have something occur which will tend to divert my thoughts. i had not intended to say anything of this kind, but now that i am with you i simply cannot restrain the words. this past month has been, i believe, the hardest i have ever been compelled to live through. you simply mystify me, so that i alternately hope and despair. your methods are cruel." "mine?" and she gazed at him with parted lips. "lieutenant brant, what can you mean? what is it i have done?" "it may have been only play to you, and so easily forgotten," he went on, bitterly. "but that is a dangerous game, very certain to hurt some one. miss naida, your face, your eyes, even your lips almost continually tell me one thing; your words another. i know not which to trust. i never meet you except to go away baffled and bewildered." "you wish to know the truth?" "ay, and for ail time! are you false, or true? coquette, or woman? do you simply play with hearts for idle amusement, or is there some true purpose ruling your actions?" she looked directly at him, her hands clasped, her breath almost sobbing between the parted lips. at first she could not speak. "oh, you hurt me so," she faltered at last. "i did not suppose you could ever think that. i--i did not mean it; oh, truly i did not mean it! you forget how young i am; how very little i know of the world and its ways. perhaps i have not even realized how deeply in earnest you were, have deceived myself into believing you were merely amusing yourself with me. why, indeed, should i think otherwise? how could i venture to believe you would ever really care in that way for such a waif as i? you have seen other women in that great eastern world of which i have only read--refined, cultured, princesses, belonging to your own social circle,--how should i suppose you could forget them, and give your heart to a little outcast, a girl without a name or a home? rather should it be i who might remain perplexed and bewildered." "i love you," he said, with simple honesty. "i seek you for my wife." she started at these frankly spoken words, her hands partially concealing her face, her form trembling. "oh, i wish you hadn't said that! it is not because i doubt you any longer; not that i fail to appreciate all you offer me. but it is so hard to appear ungrateful, to give nothing in return for so vast a gift." "then it is true that you do not love me?" the blood flamed suddenly up into her face, but there was no lowering of the eyes, no shrinking back. she was too honest to play the coward before him. "i shall not attempt to deceive you," she said, with a slow impressiveness instantly carrying conviction. "this has already progressed so far that i now owe you complete frankness. donald brant, now and always, living or dead, married or single, wherever life may take us, i shall love you." their eyes were meeting, but she held up her hand to restrain him from the one step forward. "no, no; i have confessed the truth; i have opened freely to you the great secret of my heart. with it you must be content to leave me. there is nothing more that i can give you, absolutely nothing. i can never be your wife; i hope, for your sake and mine, that we never meet again." she did not break down, or hesitate in the utterance of these words, although there was a piteous tremble on her lips, a pathetic appeal in her eyes. brant stood like a statue, his face grown white. he did not in the least doubt her full meaning of renunciation. "you will, at least, tell me why?" it was all that would come to his dry lips. she sank back upon the sofa, as though the strength had suddenly deserted her body, her eyes shaded by an uplifted hand. "i cannot tell you. i have no words, no courage. you will learn some day from others, and be thankful that i loved you well enough to resist temptation. but the reason cannot come to you from my lips." he leaned forward, half kneeling at her feet, and she permitted him to clasp her hand within both his own. "tell me, at least, this--is it some one else? is it hampton?" she smiled at him through a mist of tears, a smile the sad sweetness of which he would never forget. "in the sense you mean, no. no living man stands between us, not even bob hampton." "does he know why this cannot be?" "he does know, but i doubt if he will ever reveal his knowledge; certainly not to you. he has not told me all, even in the hour when he thought himself dying. i am convinced of that. it is not because he dislikes you, lieutenant brant, but because he knew his partial revealment of the truth was a duty he owed us both." there was a long, painful pause between them, during which neither ventured to look directly at the other. "you leave me so completely in the dark," he said, finally; "is there no possibility that this mysterious obstacle can ever be removed?" "none. it is beyond earthly power--there lies between us the shadow of a dead man." he stared at her as if doubting her sanity. "a dead man! not gillis?" "no, it is not gillis. i have told you this much so that you might comprehend how impossible it is for us to change our fate. it is irrevocably fixed. please do not question me any more; cannot you see how i am suffering? i beseech your pity; i beg you not to prolong this useless interview. i cannot bear it!" brant rose to his feet, and stood looking down upon her bowed head, her slender figure shaken by sobs. whatever it might prove to be, this mysterious shadow of a dead man, there could be no doubting what it now meant to her. his eyes were filled with a love unutterable. "naida, as you have asked it, i will go; but i go better, stronger, because i have heard your lips say you love me. i am going now, my sweetheart, but if i live, i shall come again. i know nothing of what you mean about a dead man being between us, but i shall know when i come back, for, dead or alive, no man shall remain between me and the girl i love." "this--this is different," she sobbed, "different; it is beyond your power." "i shall never believe so until i have faced it for myself, nor will i even say good-bye, for, under god, i am coming back to you." he turned slowly, and walked away. as his hand touched the latch of the door he paused and looked longingly back. "naida." she glanced up at him. "you kissed me once; will you again?" she rose silently and crossed over to him, her hands held out, her eyes uplifted to his own. neither spoke as he drew her gently to him, and their lips met. "say it once more, sweetheart?" "donald, i love you." a moment they stood thus face to face, reading the great lesson of eternity within the depths of each other's eyes. then slowly, gently, she released herself from the clasp of his strong arms. "you believe in me now? you do not go away blaming me?" she questioned, with quivering lips. "there is no blame, for you are doing what you think right. but i am coming back, naida, little woman; coming back to love and you." an hour later n troop trotted across the rude bridge, and circled the bluff, on its way toward the wide plains. brant, riding ahead of his men, caught a glimpse of something white fluttering from an open window of the yellow house fronting the road. instantly he whipped off his campaign hat, and bowing to the saddle pommel, rode bareheaded out of sight. and from behind the curtain naida watched the last horseman round the bluff angle, riding cheerfully away to hardship, danger, and death, her eyes dry and despairing, her heart scarcely beating. then she crept across the narrow room, and buried her face in the coverlet of the bed. _part iii_ on the little big horn chapter i mr. hampton resolves mr. bob hampton stood in the bright sunshine on the steps of the hotel, his appreciative gaze wandering up the long, dusty, unoccupied street, and finally rising to the sweet face of the young girl who occupied the step above. as their eyes met both smiled as if they understood each other. except for being somewhat pale, the result of long, inactive weeks passed indoors, mr. hampton's appearance was that of perfect health, while the expression of his face evidenced the joy of living. "there is nothing quite equal to feeling well, little girl," he said, genially, patting her hand where it rested on the railing, "and i really believe i am in as fine fettle now as i ever have been. do you know, i believe i 'm perfectly fit to undertake that little detective operation casually mentioned to you a few days ago. it 's got to be done, and the sooner i get at it the easier i'll feel. fact is, i put in a large portion of the night thinking out my plans." "i wish you would give it up all together, bob," she said, anxiously. "i shall be so dull and lonely here while you are gone." "i reckon you will, for a fact, as it's my private impression that lovely miss spencer does n't exert herself over much to be entertaining unless there happens to be a man in sight. great guns! how she did fling language the last time she blew in to see me! but, naida, it isn't likely this little affair will require very long, and things are lots happier between us since my late shooting scrape. for one thing, you and i understand each other better; then mrs. herndon has been quite decently civil. when fall comes i mean to take you east and put you in some good finishing school. don't care quite as much about it as you did, do you?" "yes, i think i do, bob." she strove bravely to express enthusiasm. "the trouble is, i am so worried over your going off alone hunting after that man." he laughed, his eyes searching her face for the truth. "well, little girl, he won't exactly be the first i 've had call to go after. besides, this is a particular case, and appeals to me in a sort of personal way. it you only knew it, you're about as deeply concerned in the result as i am, and as for me, i can never rest easy again until the matter is over with." "it's that awful murphy, is n't it?" "he's the one i'm starting after first, and one sight at his right hand will decide whether he is to be the last as well." "i never supposed you would seek revenge, like a savage," she remarked, quietly. "you never used to be that way." "good lord, naida, do you think i 'm low down enough to go out hunting that poor cuss merely to get even with him for trying to stick me with a knife? why, there are twenty others who have done as much, and we have been the best of friends afterwards. oh, no, lassie, it means more than that, and harks back many a long year. i told you i saw a mark on his hand i would never forget--but i saw that mark first fifteen years ago. i 'm not taking my life in my hand to revenge the killing of slavin, or in any memory of that little misunderstanding between the citizens of glencaid and myself. i should say not. i have been slashed at and shot at somewhat promiscuously during the last five years, but i never permitted such little affairs to interfere with either business, pleasure, or friendship. if this fellow murphy, or whoever the man i am after may prove to be, had contented himself with endeavoring playfully to carve me, the account would be considered closed. but this is a duty i owe a friend, a dead friend, to run to earth this murderer. do you understand now? the fellow who did that shooting up at bethune fifteen years ago had the same sort of a mark on his right hand as this one who killed slavin. that's why i'm after him, and when i catch up he'll either squeal or die. he won't be very likely to look on the matter as a joke." "but how do you know?" "i never told you the whole story, and i don't mean to now until i come back, and can make everything perfectly clear. it would n't do you any good the way things stand now, and would only make you uneasy. but if you do any praying over it, my girl, pray good and hard that i may discover some means for making that fellow squeal." she made no response. he had told her so little, that it left her blindly groping, yet fearful to ask for more. she stood gazing thoughtfully past him. "have you heard anything lately, bob, about the seventh?" she asked, finally. "since--since n troop left here?" he answered with well-simulated carelessness. "no; but it is most likely they are well into the game by this time. it's bound to prove a hard campaign, to judge from all visible indications, and the trouble has been hatching long enough to get all the hostiles into a bunch. i know most of them, and they are a bad lot of savages. crook's column, i have just heard, was overwhelmingly attacked on the rosebud, and forced to fall back. that leaves the seventh to take the brunt of it, and there is going to be hell up north presently, or i 've forgotten all i ever knew about indians. sitting bull is the arch-devil for a plot, and he has found able assistants to lead the fighting. i only wish it were my luck to be in it. but come, little girl, as i said, i 'm quite likely to be off before night, provided i am fortunate enough to strike a fresh trail. under such conditions you won't mind my kissing you out here, will you?" she held up her lips and he touched them softly with his own. her eyes were tear-dimmed. "oh, bob, i hate so to let you go," she sobbed, clinging to him. "no one could have been more to me than you have been, and you are all i have left in the world. everything i care for goes away from me. life is so hard, so hard!" "yes, little girl, i know," and the man stroked her hair tenderly, his own voice faltering. "it's all hard; i learned that sad lesson long ago, but i 've tried to make it a little bit easier for you since we first came together. still, i don't see how i can possibly help this. i 've been hunting after that fellow a long while now, a matter of fifteen years over a mighty dim trail, and it would be a mortal sin to permit him to get away scot-free. besides, if this affair only manages to turn out right, i can promise to make you the happiest girl in america. but, naida, dear, don't cling to me so; it is not at all like you to break down in this fashion," and he gently unclasped her hands, holding her away from him, while he continued to gaze hungrily into her troubled face. "it only weakens me at a time when i require all my strength of will." "sometimes i feel just like a coward, bob. it's the woman of it; yet truly i wish to do whatever you believe to be best. but, bob, i need you so much, and you will come back, won't you? i shall be so lonely here, for--for you are truly all i have in the world." with one quick, impulsive motion he pressed her to him, passionately kissing the tears from her lowered lashes, unable longer to conceal the tremor that shook his own voice. "never, never doubt it, lassie. it will not take me long, and if i live i come straight back." he watched her slender, white-robed figure as it passed slowly down the deserted street. once only she paused, and waved back to him, and he returned instant response, although scarcely realizing the act. "poor little lonely girl! perhaps i ought to have told her the whole infernal story, but i simply haven't got the nerve, the way it reads now. if i can only get it straightened out, it'll be different." mechanically he thrust an unlighted cigar between his teeth, and descended the steps, to all outward appearance the same reckless, audacious hampton as of old. mrs. guffy smiled happily from an open window as she observed the square set of his shoulders, the easy, devil-may-care smile upon his lips. the military telegraph occupied one-half of the small tent next the miners' retreat, and the youthful operator instantly recognized his debonair visitor. "well, billy," was hampton's friendly greeting, "are they keeping you fairly busy with 'wars and rumors of wars' these days?" "nuthin' doin', just now," was the cheerful reply. "everything goin' ter cheyenne. the injuns are gittin' themselves bottled up in the big horn country." "oh, that's it? then maybe you might manage to rush a message through for me to fort a. lincoln, without discommoding uncle sam?" and hampton placed a coin upon the rough table. "sure; write it out." "here it is; now get it off early, my lad, and bring the answer to me over at the hotel. there 'll be another yellow boy waiting when you come." the reply arrived some two hours later. "fort a. lincoln, june , . "hampton, glencaid: "seventh gone west, probably yellowstone. brant with them. murphy, government scout, at cheyenne waiting orders. "bitton, commanding." he crushed the paper in his hand, thinking--thinking of the past, the present, the future. he had borne much in these last years, much misrepresentation, much loneliness of soul. he had borne these patiently, smiling into the mocking eyes of fate. through it all--the loss of friends, of profession, of ambition, of love, of home--he had never wholly lost hold of a sustaining hope, and now it would seem that this long-abiding faith was at last to be rewarded. yet he realized, as he fronted the facts, how very little he really had to build upon,--the fragmentary declaration of slavin, wrung from him in a moment of terror; an idle boast made to brant by the surprised scout; a second's glimpse at a scarred hand,--little enough, indeed, yet by far the most clearly marked trail he had ever struck in all his vain endeavor to pierce the mystery which had so utterly ruined his life. to run this murphy to cover remained his final hope for retrieving those dead, dark years. ay, and there was naida! her future, scarcely less than his own, hung trembling in the balance. the sudden flashing of that name into his brain was like an electric shock. he cursed his inactivity. great god! had he become a child again, to tremble before imagined evil, a mere hobgoblin of the mind? he had already wasted time enough; now he must wring from the lips of that misshapen savage the last vestige of his secret. the animal within him sprang to fierce life. god! he would prove as wary, as cunning, as relentless as ever was indian on the trail. murphy would never suspect at this late day that he was being tracked. that was well. tireless, fearless, half savage as the scout undoubtedly was, one fully his equal was now at his heels, actuated by grim, relentless purpose. hampton moved rapidly in preparation. he dressed for the road, for hard, exacting service, buckling his loaded cartridge-belt outside his rough coat, and testing his revolvers with unusual care. he spoke a few parting words of instruction to mrs. guffy, and went quietly out. ten minutes later he was in the saddle, galloping down the dusty stage road toward cheyenne. chapter ii the trail of silent murphy the young infantryman who had been detailed for the important service of telegraph operator, sat in the cheyenne office, his feet on the rude table his face buried behind a newspaper. he had passed through two eventful weeks of unremitting service, being on duty both night and day, and now, the final despatches forwarded, he felt entitled to enjoy a period of well-earned repose. "could you inform me where i might find silent murphy, a government scout?" the voice had the unmistakable ring of military authority, and the soldier operator instinctively dropped his feet to the floor. "well, my lad, you are not dumb, are you?" the telegrapher's momentary hesitation vanished; his ambition to become a martyr to the strict laws of service secrecy was not sufficiently strong to cause him to take the doubtful chances of a lie. "he was here, but has gone." "where?" "the devil knows. he rode north, carrying despatches for custer." "when?" "oh, three or four hours ago." hampton swore softly but fervently, behind his clinched teeth. "where is custer?" "don't know exactly. supposed to be with terry and gibbons, somewhere near the mouth of the powder, although he may have left there by this time, moving down the yellowstone. that was the plan mapped out. murphy's orders were to intercept his column somewhere between the rosebud and the big horn, and i figure there is about one chance out of a hundred that the indians let him get that far alive. no other scout along this border would take such a detail. i know, for there were two here who failed to make good when the job was thrown at them--just naturally faded away," and the soldier's eyes sparkled. "but that old devil of a murphy just enjoys such a trip. he started off as happy as ever i see him." "how far will he have to ride?" "oh, 'bout three hundred miles as the crow flies, a little west of north, and the better part of the distance, they tell me, it's almighty rough country for night work. but then murphy, he knows the way all right." hampton turned toward the door, feeling fairly sick from disappointment. the operator stood regarding him curiously, a question on his lips. "sorry you didn't come along a little earlier," he said, genially. "do you know murphy?" "i 'm not quite certain. did you happen to notice a peculiar black scar on the back of his right hand?" "sure; looks like the half of a pear. he said it was powder under the skin." a new look of reviving determination swept into hampton's gloomy eyes--beyond doubt this must be his man. "how many horses did he have?" "two." "did you overhear him say anything definite about his plans for the trip?" "what, him? he never talks, that fellow. he can't do nothing but sputter if he tries. but i wrote out his orders, and they give him to the twenty-fifth to make the big horn. that's maybe something like fifty miles a day, and he's most likely to keep his horses fresh just as long as possible, so as to be good for the last spurt through the hostile country. that's how i figure it, and i know something about scouting. you was n't planning to strike out after him, was you?" "i might risk it if i only thought i could overtake him within two days; my business is of some importance." "well, stranger, i should reckon you might do that with a dog-gone good outfit. murphy 's sure to take things pretty easy to-day, and he's almost certain to follow the old mining trail as far as the ford over the belle fourche, and that's plain enough to travel. beyond that point the devil only knows where he will go, for then is when his hard ridin' begins." the moment the operator mentioned that odd scar on murphy's hand, every vestige of hesitation vanished. beyond any possibility of doubt he was on the right scent this time. murphy was riding north upon a mission as desperate as ever man was called upon to perform. the chance of his coming forth alive from that indian-haunted land was, as the operator truthfully said, barely one out of a hundred. hampton thought of this. he durst not venture all he was so earnestly striving after--love, reputation, honor--to the chance of a stray sioux bullet. no! and he remembered naida again, her dark, pleading eyes searching his face. to the end, to the death if need were, he would follow! the memory of his old plains craft would not permit any neglect of the few necessaries for the trip. he bought without haggling over prices, but insisted on the best. so it was four in the afternoon when he finally struck into the trail leading northward. this proved at first a broad, plainly marked path, across the alkali plain. he rode a mettlesome, half-broken bronco, a wicked-eyed brute, which required to be conquered twice within the first hour of travel; a second and more quiet animal trailed behind at the end of a lariat, bearing the necessary equipment. hampton forced the two into a rapid lope, striving to make the most possible out of the narrow margin of daylight remaining. he had, by persistent questioning, acquired considerable information, during that busy hour spent in cheyenne, regarding the untracked regions lying before him, as well as the character and disposition of the man he pursued. both by instinct and training he was able to comprehend those brief hints that must prove of vast benefit in the pathless wilderness. but the time had not yet arrived for him to dwell on such matters. his thoughts were concentrated on murphy. he knew that the fellow was a stubborn, silent, sullen savage, devoid of physical fear, yet cunning, wary, malignant, and treacherous. that was what they said of him back in cheyenne. what, then, would ever induce such a man to open his mouth in confession of a long-hidden crime? to be sure, he might easily kill the fellow, but he would probably die, like a wild beast, without uttering a word. there was one chance, a faint hope, that behind his gruff, uncouth exterior this murphy possessed a conscience not altogether dead. over some natures, and not infrequently to those which seem outwardly the coarsest, superstition wields a power the normal mind can scarcely comprehend. murphy might be spiritually as cringing a coward as he was physically a fearless desperado. hampton had known such cases before; he had seen men laugh scornfully before the muzzle of a levelled gun, and yet tremble when pointed at by the finger of accusation. he had lived sufficiently long on the frontier to know that men may become inured to that special form of danger to which they have grown accustomed through repetition, and yet fail to front the unknown and mysterious. perhaps here might be discovered murphy's weak point. without doubt the man was guilty of crime; that its memory continued to haunt him was rendered evident by his hiding in glencaid, and by his desperate attempt to kill hampton. that knife-thrust must have been given with the hope of thus stopping further investigation; it alone was sufficient proof that murphy's soul was haunted by fear. "conscience doth make cowards of us all." these familiar words floated in hampton's memory, seeming to attune themselves to the steady gallop of his horse. they appealed to him as a direct message of guidance. the night was already dark, but stars were gleaming brilliantly overhead, and the trail remained easily traceable. it became terribly lonely on that wilderness stretching away for unknown leagues in every direction, yet hampton scarcely noted this, so watchful was he lest he miss the trail. to his judgment, murphy would not be likely to ride during the night until after he had crossed the fourche. there was no reason to suspect that there were any hostile indians south of that stream, and probably therefore the old scout would endeavor to conserve his own strength and that of his horses, for the more perilous travel beyond. hampton hastened on, his eyes peering anxiously ahead into the steadily increasing gloom. about midnight, the trail becoming obscure, the rider made camp, confident he must have already gained heavily on the man he pursued. he lariated his horses, and flinging himself down on some soft turf, almost immediately dropped asleep. he was up again before daylight, and, after a hasty meal, pressed on. the nature of the country had changed considerably, becoming more broken, the view circumscribed by towering cliffs and deep ravines. hampton swung forward his field-glasses, and, from the summit of every eminence, studied the topography of the country lying beyond. he must see before being seen, and he believed he could not now be many miles in the rear of murphy. late in the afternoon he reined up his horse and gazed forward into a broad valley, bounded with precipitous bluffs. the trail, now scarcely perceptible, led directly down, winding about like some huge snake, across the lower level, toward where a considerable stream of water shone silvery in the sun, half concealed behind a fringe of willows. beyond doubt this was the belle fourche. and yonder, close in against those distant willows, some black dots were moving. hampton glued his anxious eyes to the glass. the levelled tubes clearly revealed a man on horseback, leading another horse. the animals were walking. there could be little doubt that this was silent murphy. hampton lariated his tired horses behind the bluff, and returned to the summit, lying flat upon the ground, with the field-glass at his eyes. the distant figures passed slowly forward into the midst of the willows, and for half an hour the patient watcher scanned the surface of the stream beyond, but there was no sign of attempted passage. the sun sank lower, and finally disappeared behind those desolate ridges to the westward. hampton's knowledge of plains craft rendered murphy's actions sufficiently clear. this was the fourche; beyond those waters lay the terrible peril of indian raiders. further advance must be made by swift, secret night riding, and never-ceasing vigilance. this was what murphy had been saving himself and his horses for. beyond conjecture, he was resting now within the shadows of those willows, studying the opposite shore and making ready for the dash northward. hampton believed he would linger thus for some time after dark, to see if indian fires would afford any guidance. confident of this, he passed back to his horses, rubbed them down with grass, and then ate his lonely supper, not venturing to light a fire, certain that murphy's eyes were scanning every inch of sky-line. darkness came rapidly, while hampton sat planning again the details of his night's work. the man's spirits became depressed by the gloom and the silence. evil fancies haunted his brain. his mind dwelt upon the past, upon that wrong which had wrecked his life, upon the young girl he had left praying for his safe return, upon that miserable creature skulking yonder in the black night. hampton could not remember when he had ever performed such an act before, nor could he have explained why he did so then, yet he prayed--prayed for the far-off naida, and for personal guidance in the stern work lying before him. and when he rose to his feet and groped his way to the horses, there remained no spirit of vengeance in his heart, no hatred, merely a cool resolve to succeed in his strange quest. so, the two animals trailing cautiously behind, he felt his slow way on foot down the steep bluff, into the denser blackness of the valley. chapter iii the haunting of a crime murphy rested on his back in the midst of a thicket of willows, wide awake, yet not quite ready to ford the fourche and plunge into the dense shadows shrouding the northern shore. crouched behind a log, he had so far yielded unto temptation as to light his pipe. murphy had been amid just such unpleasant environments many times before, and the experience had grown somewhat prosaic. he realized fully the imminent peril haunting the next two hundred miles, but such danger was not wholly unwelcome to his peculiar temperament; rather it was an incentive to him, and, without a doubt, he would manage to pull through somehow, as he had done a hundred times before. even indian-scouting degenerates into a commonplace at last. so murphy puffed contentedly at his old pipe. whatever may have been his thoughts, they did not burst through his taciturnity, and he reclined there motionless, no sound breaking the silence, save the rippling waters of the fourche, and the occasional stamping of his horses as they cropped the succulent valley grass. but suddenly there was the faint crackle of a branch to his left, and one hand instantly closed over his pipe bowl, the other grasping the heavy revolver at his hip. crouching like a startled tiger, with not a muscle moving, he peered anxiously into the darkness, his arm half extended, scarcely venturing to breathe. there came a plain, undisguised rustling in the grass,--some prowling coyote, probably; then his tense muscles immediately relaxed, and he cursed himself for being so startled, yet he continued to grasp the " " in his right hand, his eyes alert. "murphy!" that single word, hurled thus unexpectedly out of the black night, startled him more than would a volley of rifles. he sprang half erect, then as swiftly crouched behind a willow, utterly unable to articulate. in god's name, what human could be out there to call? he would have sworn that there was not another white man within a radius of a hundred miles. for the instant his very blood ran cold; he appeared to shrivel up. "oh, come, murphy; speak up, man; i know you're in here." that terror of the unknown instantly vanished. this was the familiar language of the world, and, however the fellow came to be there, it was assuredly a man who spoke. with a gurgling oath at his own folly, murphy's anger flared violently forth into disjointed speech, the deadly gun yet clasped ready for instant action. "who--the hell--are ye?" he blurted out. the visitor laughed, the bushes rustling as he pushed toward the sound of the voice. "it's all right, old boy. gave ye quite a scare, i reckon." murphy could now dimly perceive the other advancing through the intervening willows, and his colt shot up to the level. "stop!--ye take another--step an' i 'll--let drive. ye tell me--first--who ye be." the invader paused, but he realized the nervous finger pressing the trigger and made haste to answer. "it's all right, i tell ye. i 'm one o' terry's scouts." "ye are? jist the same--i've heard--yer voice--afore." "likely 'nough. i saw service in the seventh." murphy was still a trifle suspicious. "how'd ye git yere? how 'd ye come ter know--whar i wus?" the man laughed again. "sorter hurts yer perfessional feelins, don't it, old feller, to be dropped in on in this unceremonious way? but it was dead easy, old man. ye see i happened thro' cheyenne only a couple o' hours behind ye, with a bunch o' papers fer the yellowstone. the trail's plain enough out this far, and i loped 'long at a pretty fair hickory, so thet i was up on the bluff yonder, and saw ye go into camp yere just afore dark. you wus a-keepin' yer eyes skinned across the fourche, and naturally didn't expect no callers from them hills behind. the rest wus nuthin', an' here i am. it's a darn sight pleasanter ter hev company travellin', ter my notion. now kin i cum on?" murphy reluctantly lowered his colt, every movement betraying annoyance. "i reckon. but i 'd--a damn sight--rather risk it--alone." the stranger came forward without further hesitation. the night was far too dark to reveal features, but to murphy's strained vision the newcomer appeared somewhat slender in build, and of good height. "whar'd--ye say ye--wus bound?" "mouth o' the powder. we kin ride tergether fer a night or two." "ye kin--do as ye--please, but--i ain't a huntin'--no company,--an' i'm a'--goin' 'cross now." he advanced a few strides toward his horses. then suddenly he gave vent to a smothered cry, so startling as to cause the stranger to spring hastily after him. "oh! my god! oh! look there!" "what is it, man?" "there! there! the picture! don't you see?" "naw; i don't see nuthin'. ye ain't gone cracked, hev ye? whose picture?" "it's there!--o lord!--it's there! my god! can't ye see?--an' it's his face--all a-gleamin' with green flames--holy mary--an' i ain't seen it--afore in--fifteen year!" he seemed suddenly to collapse, and the stranger permitted him to drop limp to the earth. "darn if i kin see anythin', old man, but i 'll scout 'round thar a bit, jest ter ease yer mind, an' see what i kin skeer up." he had hardly taken a half-dozen steps before murphy called after him: "don't--don't go an' leave me--it's not there now--thet's queer!" the other returned and stood gazing down upon his huddled figure. "you're a fine scout! afeard o' spooks. do ye take these yere turns often? fer if ye do, i reckon as how i 'd sooner be ridin' alone." murphy struggled to his feet and gripped the other's arm. "never hed nuthin' like it--afore. but--but it was thar--all creepy--an' green--ain't seen thet face--in fifteen year." "what face?" "a--a fellow i knew--once. he--he's dead." the other grunted, disdainfully. "bad luck ter see them sort," he volunteered, solemnly. "blame glad it warn't me es see it, an' i don't know as i keer much right now 'bout keepin' company with ye fer very long. however, i reckon if either of us calculates on doin' much ridin' ternight, we better stop foolin' with ghosts, an' go ter saddlin' up." they made rapid work of it, the newcomer proving somewhat loquacious, yet holding his voice to a judicious whisper, while murphy relapsed into his customary sullen silence, but continued peering about nervously. it was he who led the way down the bank, the four horses slowly splashing through the shallow water to the northern shore. before them stretched a broad plain, the surface rocky and uneven, the northern stars obscured by ridges of higher land. murphy promptly gave his horse the spur, never once glancing behind, while the other imitated his example, holding his animal well in check, being apparently the better mounted. they rode silently. the unshod hoofs made little noise, but a loosened canteen tinkled on murphy's led horse, and he halted to fix it, uttering a curse. the way became more broken and rough as they advanced, causing them to exercise greater caution. murphy clung to the hollows, apparently guided by some primitive instinct to choose the right path, or else able, like a cat, to see the way through the gloom, his beacon a huge rock to the northward. silently hour after hour, galloping, trotting, walking, according to the ground underfoot, the two pressed grimly forward, with the unerring skill of the border, into the untracked wilderness. flying clouds obscured the stars, yet through the rifts they caught fleeting glimpses sufficient to hold them to their course. and the encroaching hills swept in closer upon either hand, leaving them groping their way between as in a pocket, yet ever advancing north. finally they attained to the steep bank of a considerable stream, found the water of sufficient depth to compel swimming, and crept up the opposite shore dripping and miserable, yet with ammunition dry. murphy stood swearing disjointedly, wiping the blood from a wound in his forehead where the jagged edge of a rock had broken the skin, but suddenly stopped with a quick intake of breath that left him panting. the other man crept toward him, leading his horse. "what is it now?" he asked, gruffly. "hev' ye got 'em agin?" the dazed old scout stared, pointing directly across the other's shoulder, his arm shaking desperately. "it's thar!--an' it's his face! oh, god!--i know it--fifteen year." the man glanced backward into the pitch darkness, but without moving his body. "there 's nuthin' out there, 'less it's a firefly," he insisted, in a tone of contempt. "you're plum crazy, murphy; the night's got on yer nerves. what is it ye think ye see?" "his face, i tell ye! don't i know? it's all green and ghastly, with snaky flames playin' about it! but i know; fifteen years, an' i ain't fergot." he sank down feebly--sank until he was on his knees, his head craned forward. the man watching touched the miserable, hunched-up figure compassionately, and it shook beneath his hand, endeavoring to shrink away. "my god! was thet you? i thought it was him a-reachin' fer me. here, let me take yer hand. oh, lord! an' can't ye see? it's just there beyond them horses--all green, crawlin', devilish--but it's him." "who?" "brant! brant--fifteen year!" "brant? fifteen years? do you mean major brant, the one nolan killed over at bethune?" "he--he didn't--" the old man heaved forward, his head rocking from side to side; then suddenly he toppled over on his face, gasping for breath. his companion caught him, and ripped open the heavy flannel shirt. then he strode savagely across in front of his shrinking horse, tore down the flaring picture, and hastily thrust it into his pocket, the light of the phosphorus with which it had been drawn being reflected for a moment on his features. "a dirty, miserable, low-down trick," he muttered. "poor old devil! yet i've got to do it, for the little girl." he stumbled back through the darkness, his hat filled with water, and dashed it into murphy's face. "come on, murphy! there's one good thing 'bout spooks; they don't hang 'round fer long at a time. likely es not this 'un is gone by now. brace up, man, for you an' i have got ter get out o' here afore mornin'." then murphy grasped his arm, and drew himself slowly to his feet. "don't see nuthin' now, do ye?" "no. where's my--horse?" the other silently reached him the loose rein, marking as he did so the quick, nervous peering this way and that, the starting at the slightest sound. "did ye say, murphy, as how it wasn't nolan after all who plugged the major?" "i 'm damned--if i did. who--else was it?" "why, i dunno. sorter blamed odd though, thet ghost should be a-hauntin' ye. darn if it ain't creepy 'nough ter make a feller believe most anythin'." murphy drew himself up heavily into his saddle. then all at once he shoved the muzzle of a " " into the other's face. "ye say nuther word--'bout thet, an' i 'll make--a ghost outer ye--blame lively. now, ye shet up--if ye ride with me." they moved forward at a walk and reached a higher level, across which the night wind swept, bearing a touch of cold in its breath as though coming from the snow-capped mountains to the west. there was renewed life in this invigorating air, and murphy spurred forward, his companion pressing steadily after. they were but two flitting shadows amid that vast desolation of plain and mountain, their horses' hoofs barely audible. what imaginings of evil, what visions of the past, may have filled the half-crazed brain of the leading horseman is unknowable. he rode steadily against the black night wall, as though unconscious of his actions, yet forgetting no trick, no skill of the plains. but the equally silent man behind clung to him like a shadow of doom, watching his slightest motion--a nemesis that would never let go. when the first signs of returning day appeared in the east, the two left their horses in a narrow canyon, and crept to the summit of a ridge. below lay the broad valley of the powder. slowly the misty light strengthened into gray, and became faintly tinged with crimson, while the green and brown tints deepened beneath the advancing light, which ever revealed new clefts in the distant hills. amid those more northern bluffs a thin spiral of blue smoke was ascending. undoubtedly it was some distant indian signal, and the wary old plainsman watched it as if fascinated. but the younger man lay quietly regarding him, a drawn revolver in his hand. then murphy turned his head, and looked back into the other's face. chapter iv the verge of confession murphy uttered one sputtering cry of surprise, flinging his hand instinctively to his hip, but attempted no more. hampton's ready weapon was thrusting its muzzle into the astounded face, and the gray eyes gleaming along the polished barrel held the fellow motionless. "hands up! not a move, murphy! i have the drop!" the voice was low, but stern, and the old frontiersman obeyed mechanically, although his seamed face was fairly distorted with rage. "you! damn you!--i thought i knew--the voice." "yes, i am here all right. rather odd place for us to meet, isn't it? but, you see, you've had the advantage all these years; you knew whom you were running away from, while i was compelled to plod along in the dark. but i 've caught up just the same, if it has been a long race." "what do ye--want me fer?" the look in the face was cunning. "hold your hands quiet--higher, you fool! that's it. now, don't play with me. i honestly didn 't know for certain i did want you, murphy, when i first started out on this trip. i merely suspected that i might, from some things i had been told. when somebody took the liberty of slashing at my back in a poker-room at glencaid, and drove the knife into slavin by mistake, i chanced to catch a glimpse of the hand on the hilt, and there was a scar on it. about fifteen years before, i was acting as officer of the guard one night at bethune. it was a bright starlit night, you remember, and just as i turned the corner of the old powder-house there came a sudden flash, a report, a sharp cry. i sprang forward only to fall headlong over a dead body; but in that flash i had seen the hand grasping the revolver, and there was a scar on the back of it, a very peculiar scar. it chanced i had the evening previous slightly quarrelled with the officer who was killed; i was the only person known to be near at the time he was shot; certain other circumstantial evidence was dug up, while slavin and one other--no, it was not you--gave some damaging, manufactured testimony against me. as a result i was held guilty of murder in the second degree, dismissed the army in disgrace, and sentenced to ten years' imprisonment. so, you see, it was not exactly you i have been hunting, murphy,--it was a scar." murphy's face was distorted into a hideous grin. "i notice you bear exactly that kind of a scar, my man, and you spoke last night as if you had some recollection of the case." the mocking grin expanded; into the husky voice crept a snarl of defiance, for now murphy's courage had come back--he was fronting flesh and blood. "oh, stop preachin'--an' shoot--an' be damned ter ye!" "you do me a grave injustice, murphy. in the first place, i do not possess the nature of an indian, and am not out for revenge. your slashing at me down in glencaid has n't left so much as a sting behind. it's completely blotted out, forgotten. i haven't the slightest desire to kill you, man; but i do want to clear my name of the stain of that crime. i want you to tell the whole truth about that night's work at bethune; and when you have done so, you can go. i 'll never lay a finger on you; you can go where you please." "bah!--ye ain't got no proof--agin me--'sides, the case is closed--it can't be opened agin--by law." "you devil! i 'd be perfectly justified in killing you," exclaimed hampton, savagely. murphy stared at him stupidly, the cunning of incipient insanity in his eyes. "en' whar--do ye expect--me ter say--all this, pervidin', of course--i wus fule 'nough--ter do it?" "up yonder before custer and the officers of the seventh, when we get in." "they'd nab me--likely." "now, see here, you say it is impossible for them to touch you, because the case is closed legally. now, you do not care very much for the opinion of others, while from every other standpoint you feel perfectly safe. but i 've had to suffer for your crime, murphy, suffer for fifteen years, ten of them behind stone walls; and there are others who have suffered with me. it has cost me love, home, all that a man holds dear. i 've borne this punishment for you, paid the penalty of your act to the full satisfaction of the law. the very least you can do in ordinary decency is to speak the truth now. it will not hurt you, but it will lift me out of hell." murphy's eyes were cunning, treacherously shifting under the thatch of his heavy brows; he was like an old rat seeking for any hole of refuge. "well--maybe i might. anyhow, i'll go on--with ye. kin i sit up? i 'm dog tired--lyin' yere." "unbuckle your belt, and throw that over first." "i'm damned--if i will. not--in no injun--country." "i know it's tough," retorted hampton, with exasperating coolness, his revolver's muzzle held steady; "but, just the same, it's got to be done. i know you far too well to take chances on your gun. so unlimber." "oh, i--guess not," and murphy spat contemptuously. "do ye think--i 'm afeard o' yer--shootin'? ye don't dare--fer i 'm no good ter ye--dead." "you are perfectly right. you are quite a philosopher in your way. you would be no good to me dead, murphy, but you might prove fully as valuable maimed. now i 'm playing this game to the limit, and that limit is just about reached. you unlimber before i count ten, you murderer, or i 'll spoil both your hands!" the mocking, sardonic grin deserted murphy's features. it was sullen obstinacy, not doubt of the other's purpose, that paralyzed him. "unlimber! it's the last call." with a snarl the scout unclasped his army belt, dropped it to the ground, and sullenly kicked it over toward hampton. "now--now--you, you gray-eyed--devil, kin i--sit up?" the other nodded. he had drawn the fangs of the wolf, and now that he no longer feared, a sudden, unexplainable feeling of sympathy took possession of him. yet he drew farther away before slipping his own gun into its sheath. for a time neither spoke, their eyes peering across the ridge. murphy sputtered and swore, but his victorious companion neither spoke nor moved. there were several distant smokes out to the northward now, evidently the answering signals of different bands of savages, while far away, beneath the shadow of the low bluffs bordering the stream, numerous black, moving dots began to show against the light brown background. hampton, noticing that murphy had stopped swearing to gaze, swung forward his field-glasses for a better view. "they are indians, right enough," he said, at last. "here, take a look, murphy. i could count about twenty in that bunch, and they are travelling north." the older man adjusted the tubes to his eyes, and looked long and steadily at the party. then he slowly swung the glasses toward the northwest, apparently studying the country inch by inch, his jaws working spasmodically, his unoccupied hand clutching nervously at the grass. "they seem--to be a-closin' in," he declared, finally, staring around into the other's face, all bravado gone. "there's anuther lot--bucks, all o' 'em--out west yonder--an' over east a smudge is--just startin'. looks like--we wus in a pocket--an' thar' might be some--har-raisin' fore long." "well, murphy, you are the older hand at this business. what do you advise doing?" "me? why, push right 'long--while we kin keep under cover. then--after dark--trust ter bull luck an' make--'nuther dash. it's mostly luck, anyhow. thet canyon just ahead--looks like it leads a long way--toward the powder. its middling deep down, an' if there ain't injuns in it--them fellers out yonder--never cud git no sight at us. thet's my notion--thet ivery mile helps in this--business." "you mean we should start now?" "better--let the cattle rest--first. an'--if ye ever feed prisoners--i 'd like ter eat a bite--mesilf." they rested there for over two hours, the tired horses contentedly munching the succulent grass of the _coulée_, their two masters scarcely exchanging a word. murphy, after satisfying his appetite, rested flat upon his back, one arm flung over his eyes to protect them from the sun. for a considerable time hampton supposed him asleep, until he accidentally caught the stealthy glance which followed his slightest movement, and instantly realized that the old weasel was alert. murphy had been beaten, yet evidently remained unconquered, biding his chance with savage stoicism, and the other watched him warily even while seeming to occupy himself with the field-glass. at last they saddled up, and, at first leading their horses, passed down the _coulée_ into the more precipitous depths of the narrow canyon. this proved hardly more than a gash cut through the rolling prairie, rock strewn, holding an insignificant stream of brackish water, yet was an ideal hiding-place, having ample room for easy passage between the rock walls. the men mounted, and hampton, with a wave of his hand, bade the old scout assume the lead. their early advance was slow and cautious, as they never felt certain what hidden enemies might lurk behind the sharp corners of the winding defile, and they kept vigilant eyes upon the serrated sky-line. the savages were moving north, and so were they. it would be remarkably good fortune if they escaped running into some wandering band, or if some stray scout did not stumble upon their trail. so they continued to plod on. it was fully three o'clock when they attained to the bank of the powder, and crouched among the rocks to wait for the shades of night to shroud their further advance. murphy climbed the bluff for a wider view, bearing hampton's field-glasses slung across his shoulder, for the latter would not leave him alone with the horses. he returned finally to grunt out that there was nothing special in sight, except a shifting of those smoke signals to points farther north. then they lay down again, hampton smoking, murphy either sleeping or pretending to sleep. and slowly the shadows of another black night swept down and shut them in. it must have been two hours later when they ventured forth. silence and loneliness brooded everywhere, not so much as a breath of air stirring the leaves. the unspeakable, unsolvable mystery of it all rested like a weight on the spirits of both men. it, was a disquieting thought that bands of savages, eager to discover and slay, were stealing among the shadows of those trackless plains, and that they must literally feel their uncertain way through the cordon, every sound an alarm, every advancing step a fresh peril. they crossed the swift, deep stream, and emerged dripping, chilled to the marrow by the icy water. then they swung stiffly into the wet saddles, and plunged, with almost reckless abandon, through the darkness. murphy continued to lead, the light tread of his horse barely audible, hampton pressing closely behind, revolver in hand, the two pack-horses trailing in the rear. hampton had no confidence in his sullen, treacherous companion; he looked for early trouble, yet he had little fear regarding any attempt at escape now. murphy was a plainsman, and would realize the horror of being alone, unarmed, and without food on those demon-haunted prairies. besides, the silent man behind was astride the better animal. midnight, and they pulled up amid the deeper gloom of a great, overhanging bluff, having numerous trees near its summit. there was the glow of a distant fire upon their left, which reddened the sky, and reflected oddly on the edges of a vast cloud-mass rolling up threateningly from the west. neither knew definitely where they were, although murphy guessed the narrow stream they had just forded might be the upper waters of the tongue. their horses stood with heads hanging wearily down, their sides rising and falling; and hampton, rolling stiffly from the saddle, hastily loosened his girth. "they 'll drop under us if we don't give them an hour or two," he said, quietly. "they 're both dead beat." murphy muttered something, incoherent and garnished with oaths, and the moment he succeeded in releasing the buckle, sank down limp at the very feet of his horse, rolling up into a queer ball. the other stared, and took a step nearer. "what's the matter? are you sick, murphy?" "no--tired--don't want ter see--thet thing agin." "what thing?" "thet green, devilish,--crawlin' face--if ye must know!" and he twisted his long, ape-like arms across his eyes, lying curled up as a dog might. for a moment hampton stood gazing down upon him, listening to his incoherent mutterings, his own face grave and sympathetic. then he moved back and sat down. suddenly the full conception of what this meant came to his mind--_the man had gone mad_. the strained cords of that diseased brain had snapped in the presence of imagined terrors, and now all was chaos. the horror of it overwhelmed hampton; not only did this unexpected denouement leave him utterly hopeless, but what was he to do with the fellow? how could he bring him forth from there alive? if this stream was indeed the tongue, then many a mile of rough country, ragged with low mountains and criss-crossed by deep ravines, yet stretched between where they now were and the little big horn, where they expected to find custer's men. they were in the very heart of the indian country,--the country of the savage sioux. he stared at the curled-up man, now silent and breathing heavily as if asleep. the silence was profound, the night so black and lonely that hampton involuntarily closed his heavy eyes to shut it out. if he only might light a pipe, or boil himself a cup of black coffee! murphy never stirred; the horses were seemingly too weary to browse. then hampton nodded, and sank into an uneasy doze. chapter v alone with the insane beneath the shade of uplifted arms murphy's eyes remained unclosed. whatever terrors may have dominated that diseased brain, the one purpose of revenge and escape never deserted it. with patient cunning he could plan and wait, scheme and execute. he was all animal now, dreaming only of how to tear and kill. and he waited long in order to be perfectly sure, unrolling inch by inch, and like a venomous snake, never venturing to withdraw his baleful eyes from his unconscious victim. he was many minutes thoroughly satisfying himself that hampton actually slept. his every movement was slow, crafty, cowardly, the savage in his perverted nature becoming more and more manifest. it was more beast than man that finally crept forward on all-fours, the eyes gleaming cruel as a cat's in the night. it was not far he was compelled to go, his movements squirming and noiseless. within a yard of the peacefully slumbering man he rose up, crouching on his toes and bending stealthily forward to gloat over his victim. hampton stirred uneasily, possibly feeling the close proximity of that horrible presence. then the maniac took one more stealthy, slouching step nearer, and flung himself at the exposed throat, uttering a fierce snarl as his fingers clutched the soft flesh. hampton awoke, gasping and choking, to find those mad eyes glaring into his own, those murderous hands throttling him with the strength of madness. at first the stupefied, half-awakened man struggled as if in delirium, scarcely realizing the danger. he was aware of suffering, of horror, of suffocation. then the brain flashed into life, and he grappled fiercely with his dread antagonist. murphy snapped like a mad dog, his lips snarling curses; but hampton fought silently, desperately, his brain clearing as he succeeded in wrenching those claws from his lacerated throat, and forced his way up on to one knee. he felt no hatred toward this crazed man striving to kill him; he understood what had loosed such a raging devil. but this was no time to exhibit mercy; murphy bit and clawed, and hampton could only dash in upon him in the effort to force him back. he worked his way, inch by inch, to his feet, his slender figure rigid as steel, and closed in upon the other; but murphy writhed out of his grasp, as a snake might. the younger man realized now to the full his peril, and his hand slipped down to the gun upon his hip. there was a sudden glint in the faint starlight as he struck, and the stunned maniac went down quivering, and lay motionless on the hard ground. for a moment the other remained standing over him, the heavy revolver poised, but the prostrate figure lay still, and the conqueror slipped his weapon back into its leather sheath with a sigh of relief. the noise of their struggle must have carried far through that solemn stillness, and no one could guess how near at hand might be bands of prowling savages. yet no sound came to his strained ears except the soft soughing of the night wind through the trees, and the rustling of grass beneath the tread of the horses. with the quick decision of one long accustomed to meet emergencies, hampton unbuckled the lariat from one of the led animals, and bound murphy's hands and limbs securely. as he worked he thought rapidly. he comprehended the extreme desperation of their present situation. while the revolver blow might possibly restore murphy to a degree of sanity, it was far more probable that he would awaken violent. yet he could not deliberately leave this man to meet a fate of horror in the wilderness. which way should they turn? enough food, if used sparingly, might remain to permit of a hasty retreat to cheyenne, and there would be comparatively little danger in that direction. all visible signs indicated that the scattered indian bands were rapidly consolidating to the northward, closing in on those troops scouting the yellowstone, with determination to give early battle. granting that the stream they were now on should prove to be the tongue, then the direct route toward where custer was supposed to be would be northwest, leading ever deeper into the lonely wilderness, and toward more imminent peril. then, at the end of that uncertain journey, they might easily miss custer's column. that which would have been quickly decided had he been alone became a most serious problem when considered in connection with the insane, helpless scout. but then, there were the despatches! they must be of vital importance to have required the sending of murphy forth on so dangerous a ride; other lives, ay, the result of the entire campaign, might depend upon their early delivery. hampton had been a soldier, the spirit of the service was still with him, and that thought brought him to final decision. unless they were halted by sioux bullets, they would push on toward the big horn, and custer should have the papers. he knelt down beside murphy, unbuckled the leather despatch-bag, and rebuckled it across his own shoulder. then he set to work to revive the prostrate man. the eyes, when opened, stared up at him, wild and glaring; the ugly face bore the expression of abject fear. the man was no longer violent; he had become a child, frightened at the dark. his ceaseless babbling, his incessant cries of terror, only rendered more precarious any attempt at pressing forward through a region overrun with hostiles. but hampton had resolved. securely strapping murphy to his saddle, and packing all their remaining store of provisions upon one horse, leaving the other to follow or remain behind as it pleased, he advanced directly into the hills, steering by aid of the stars, his left hand ever on murphy's bridle rein, his low voice of expostulation seeking to calm the other's wild fancies and to curb his violent speech. it was a weird, wild ride through the black night, unknown ground under foot, unseen dangers upon every hand. murphy's aberrations changed from shrieking terror to a wild, uncontrollable hilarity, with occasional outbursts of violent anger, when it required all hampton's iron will and muscle to conquer him. at dawn they were in a narrow gorge among the hills, a dark and gloomy hole, yet a peculiarly safe spot in which to hide, having steep, rocky ledges on either side, with sufficient grass for the horses. leaving murphy bound, hampton clambered up the front of the rock to where he was able to look out. all was silent, and his heart sank as he surveyed the brown sterile hills stretching to the horizon, having merely narrow gulches of rock and sand between, the sheer nakedness of the picture unrelieved by green shrub or any living thing. then, almost despairing, he slid back, stretched himself out amid the soft grass, and sank into the slumber of exhaustion, his last conscious memory the incoherent babbling of his insane companion. he awoke shortly after noon, feeling refreshed and renewed in both body and mind. murphy was sleeping when he first turned to look at him, but he awoke in season to be fed, and accepted the proffered food with all the apparent delight of a child. while he rested, their remaining pack-animal had strayed, and hampton was compelled to go on with only the two horses, strapping the depleted store of provisions behind his own saddle. then he carefully hoisted murphy into place and bound his feet beneath the animal's belly, the poor fellow gibbering at him, in appearance an utter imbecile, although exhibiting periodic flashes of malignant passion. then he resumed the journey down one of those sand-strewn depressions pointing toward the rosebud, pressing the refreshed ponies into a canter, confident now that their greatest measure of safety lay in audacity. apparently his faith in the total desertion of these "bad lands" by the indians was fully justified, for they continued steadily mile after mile, meeting with no evidence of life anywhere. still the travelling was good, with here and there little streams of icy water trickling over the rocks. they made most excellent progress, hampton ever grasping the bit of murphy's horse, his anxious thought more upon his helpless companion in misery than upon the possible perils of the route. it was already becoming dusk when they swept down into a little nest of green trees and grass. it appeared so suddenly, and was such an unexpected oasis amid that surrounding wilderness, that hampton gave vent to a sudden exclamation of delight. but that was all. instantly he perceived numerous dark forms leaping from out the shrubbery, and he wheeled his horses to the left, lashing them into a rapid run. it was all over in a moment--a sputtering of rifles, a wild medley of cries, a glimpse of savage figures, and the two were tearing down the rocks, the din of pursuit dying away behind them. the band were evidently all on foot, yet hampton continued to press his mount at a swift pace, taking turn after turn about the sharp hills, confident that the hard earth would leave no trace of their passage. then suddenly the horse he rode sank like a log, but his tight grip upon the rein of the other landed him on his feet. murphy laughed, in fiendish merriment; but hampton looked down on the dead horse, noting the stream of blood oozing out from behind the shoulder. a stray sioux bullet had found its mark, but the gallant animal had struggled on until it dropped lifeless; and the brave man it had borne so long and so well bent down and stroked tenderly the unconscious head. then he shifted the provisions to the back of the other horse, grasped the loose rein once more in his left hand, and started forward on foot. chapter vi on the little big horn n troop, guarding, much to their emphatically expressed disgust, the more slowly moving pack-train, were following custer's advancing column of horsemen down the right bank of the little big horn. the troopers, carbines at knee, sitting erect in their saddles, their faces browned by the hot winds of the plains, were riding steadily northward. beside them, mounted upon a rangy chestnut, brant kept his watchful eyes on those scattered flankers dotting the summit of the near-by bluff. suddenly one of these waved his hand eagerly, and the lieutenant went dashing up the sharp ascent. "what is it, now, lane?" "somethin' movin' jist out yonder, sir," and the trooper pointed into the southeast. "they're down in a _coulée_ now, i reckon; but will be up on a ridge agin in a minute. i got sight of 'em twice afore i waved." the officer gazed earnestly in the direction indicated, and was almost immediately rewarded by the glimpse of some indistinct, dark figures dimly showing against the lighter background of sky. he brought his field-glasses to a focus. "white men," he announced, shortly. "come with me." at a brisk trot they rode out, the trooper lagging a pace to the rear, the watchful eyes of both men sweeping suspiciously across the prairie. the two parties met suddenly upon the summit of a sharp ridge, and brant drew in his horse with an exclamation of astonishment. it was a pathetic spectacle he stared at,--a horse scarcely able to stagger forward, his flanks quivering from exhaustion, his head hanging limply down; on his back, with feet strapped securely beneath and hands bound to the high pommel, the lips grinning ferociously, perched a misshapen creature clothed as a man. beside these, hatless, his shoes barely holding together, a man of slender figure and sunburnt face held the bridle-rein. an instant they gazed at each other, the young officer's eyes filled with sympathetic horror, the other staring apathetically at his rescuer. "my god! can this be you, hampton?" and the startled lieutenant flung himself from his horse. "what does it mean? why are you here?" hampton, leaning against the trembling horse to keep erect, slowly lifted his hand in a semblance of military salute. "despatches from cheyenne. this is murphy--went crazy out yonder. for god's sake--water, food!" "your canteen, lane!" exclaimed brant. "now hold this cup," and he dashed into it a liberal supply of brandy from a pocket-flask. "drink that all down, hampton." the man did mechanically as he was ordered, his hand never relaxing its grasp of the rein. then a gleam of reawakened intelligence appeared in his eyes; he glanced up into the leering countenance of murphy, and then back at those others. "give me another for him." brant handed to him the filled cup, noting as he did so the strange steadiness of the hand which accepted it. hampton lifted the tin to the figure in the saddle, his own gaze directed straight into the eyes as he might seek to control a wild animal. "drink it," he commanded, curtly, "every drop!" for an instant the maniac glared back at him sullenly; then he appeared to shrink in terror, and drank swiftly. "we can make the rest of the way now," hampton announced, quietly. "lord, but this has been a trip!" lane dismounted at brant's order, and assisted hampton to climb into the vacated saddle. then the trooper grasped the rein of murphy's horse, and the little party started toward where the pack-train was hidden in the valley. the young officer rode silent and at a walk, his eyes occasionally studying the face of the other and noting its drawn, gray look. the very sight of hampton had been a shock. why was he here and with murphy? could this strange journey have anything to do with naida? could it concern his own future, as well as hers? he felt no lingering jealousy of this man, for her truthful words had forever settled that matter. yet who was he? what peculiar power did he wield over her life? "is custer here?" said hampton. "no; that is, not with my party. we are guarding the pack-train. the others are ahead, and custer, with five troops, has moved to the right. he is somewhere among those ridges back of the bluff." the man turned and looked where the officer pointed, shading his eyes with his hand. before him lay only the brown, undulating waves of upland, a vast desert of burnt grass, shimmering under the hot sun. "can you give me a fresh horse, a bite to eat, and a cup of coffee, down there?" he asked, anxiously. "you see i 've got to go on." "go on? good god! man, do you realize what you are saying? why, you can hardly sit the saddle! you carry despatches, you say? well, there are plenty of good men in my troop who will volunteer to take them on. you need rest." "not much," said hampton. "i'm fit enough, or shall be as soon as i get food. good lord, boy, i am not done up yet, by a long way! it's the cursed loneliness out yonder," he swept his hand toward the horizon, "and the having to care for him, that has broken my heart. he went that way clear back on the powder, and it's been a fight between us ever since. i 'll be all right now if you lads will only look after him. this is going to reach custer, and i'll take it!" he flung back his ragged coat, his hand on the despatch-bag. "i 've earned the right." brant reached forth his hand cordially. "that's true; you have. what's more, if you 're able to make the trip, there is no one here who will attempt to stop you. but now tell me how this thing happened. i want to know the story before we get in." for a moment hampton remained silent, his thoughtful gaze on the near-by videttes, his hands leaning heavily upon the saddle pommel. perhaps he did not remember clearly; possibly he could not instantly decide just how much of that story to tell. brant suspected this last to be his difficulty, and he spoke impulsively. "hampton, there has been trouble and misunderstanding between us, but that's all past and gone now. i sincerely believe in your purpose of right, and i ask you to trust me. either of us would give his life if need were, to be of real service to a little girl back yonder in the hills. i don't know what you are to her; i don't ask. i know she has every confidence in you, and that is enough. now, i want to do what is right with both of you, and if you have a word to say to me regarding this matter, i 'll treat it confidentially. this trip with murphy has some bearing upon naida gillis, has it not?" "yes." "will you tell me the story?" the thoughtful gray eyes looked at him long and searchingly. "brant, do you love that girl?" just as unwaveringly the blue eyes returned the look. "i do. i have asked her to become my wife." "and her answer?" "she said no; that a dead man was between us." "is that all you know?" the younger man bent his head, his face grave and perplexed. "practically all." hampton wet his dry lips with his tongue, his breath quickening. "and in that she was right," he said at last, his eyes lowered to the ground. "i will tell you why. it was the father of naida gillis who was convicted of the murder of major brant." "oh, my father? is she captain nolan's daughter? but you say 'convicted.' was there ever any doubt? do you question his being guilty?" hampton pointed in silence to the hideous creature behind them. "that man could tell, but he has gone mad." brant endeavored to speak, but the words would not come; his brain seemed paralyzed. hampton held himself under better control. "i have confidence, lieutenant brant, in your honesty," he began, gravely, "and i believe you will strive to do whatever is best for her, if anything should happen to me out yonder. but for the possibility of my being knocked out, i would n't talk about this, not even to you. the affair is a long way from being straightened out so as to make a pleasant story, but i 'll give you all you actually require to know in order to make it clear to her, provided i shouldn't come back. you see, she doesn't know very much more than you do--only what i was obliged to tell to keep her from getting too deeply entangled with you. maybe i ought to have given her the full story before i started on this trip. i 've since wished i had, but you see, i never dreamed it was going to end here, on the big horn; besides, i did n't have the nerve." he swept his heavy eyes across the brown and desolate prairie, and back to the troubled face of the younger man. "you see, brant, i feel that i simply have to carry these despatches through. i have a pride in giving them to custer myself, because of the trouble i 've had in getting them here. but perhaps i may not come back, and in that case there would n't be any one living to tell her the truth. that thought has bothered me ever since i pulled out of cheyenne. it seems to me that there is going to be a big fight somewhere in these hills before long. i 've seen a lot of indians riding north within the last four days, and they were all bucks, rigged out in war toggery, sioux and cheyennes. ever since we crossed the fourche those fellows have been in evidence, and it's my notion that custer has a heavier job on his hands, right at this minute, than he has any conception of. so i want to leave these private papers with you until i come back. it will relieve my mind to know they are safe; if i don't come, then i want you to open them and do whatever you decide is best for the little girl. you will do that, won't you?" he handed over a long manila envelope securely sealed, and the younger man accepted it, noticing that it was unaddressed before depositing it safely in an inner pocket of his fatigue jacket. "certainly, hampton," he said. "is that all?" "all except what i am going to tell you now regarding murphy. there is no use my attempting to explain exactly how i chanced to find out all these things, for they came to me little by little during several years. i knew nolan, and i knew your father, and i had reason to doubt the guilt of the captain, in spite of the verdict of the jury that condemned him. in fact, i knew at the time, although it was not in my power to prove it, that the two principal witnesses against nolan lied. i thought i could guess why, but we drifted apart, and finally i lost all track of every one connected with the affair. then i happened to pick up that girl down in the canyon beyond the bear water, and pulled her out alive just because she chanced to be of that sex, and i could n't stand to see her fall into indian clutches. i did n't feel any special interest in her at the time, supposing she belonged to old gillis, but she somehow grew on me--she's that kind, you know; and when i discovered, purely by accident, that she was captain nolan's girl, but that it all had been kept from her, i just naturally made up my mind i 'd dig out the truth if i possibly could, for her sake. the fact is, i began to think a lot about her--not the way you do, you understand; i'm getting too old for that, and have known too much about women,--but maybe somewhat as a father might feel. anyhow, i wanted to give her a chance, a square deal, so that she would n't be ashamed of her own name if ever she found out what it was." he paused, his eyes filled with memories, and passed his hand through his uncovered hair. "about that time i fell foul of murphy and slavin there in glencaid," he went on quickly, as if anxious to conclude. "i never got my eyes on murphy, you know, and slavin was so changed by that big red beard that i failed to recognize him. but their actions aroused my suspicions, and i went after them good and hard. i wanted to find out what they knew, and why those lies were told on nolan at the trial. i had an idea they could tell me. so, for a starter, i tackled slavin, supposing we were alone, and i was pumping the facts out of him successfully by holding a gun under his nose, and occasionally jogging his memory, when this fellow murphy got excited, and _chasséed_ into the game, but happened to nip his partner instead of me. in the course of our little scuffle i chanced to catch a glimpse of the fellow's right hand, and it had a scar on the back of it that looked mighty familiar. i had seen it before, and i wanted to see it again. so, when i got out of that scrape, and the doctor had dug a stray bullet out of my anatomy, there did n't seem to be any one left for me to chase excepting murphy, for slavin was dead. i was n't exactly sure he was the owner of that scar, but i had my suspicions and wanted to verify them. having struck his trail, i reached cheyenne just about four hours after he left there with these despatches for the big horn. i caught up with the fellow on the south bank of the belle fourche, and being well aware that no threats or gun play would ever force him to confess the truth, i undertook to frighten him by trickery. i brought along some drawing-paper and drew your father's picture in phosphorus, and gave him the benefit in the dark. that caught murphy all right, and everything was coming my way. he threw up his hands, and even agreed to come in here with me, and tell the whole story, but the poor fellow's brain could n't stand the strain of the scare i had given him. he went raving mad on the powder; he jumped on me while i was asleep, and since then every mile has been a little hell. that's the whole of it to date." they were up with the pack-train by now, and the cavalrymen gazed with interest at the new arrivals. several among them seemed to recognize murphy, and crowded about his horse with rough expressions of sympathy. brant scarcely glanced at them, his grave eyes on hampton's stern face. "and what is it you wish me to do?" "take care of murphy. don't let him remain alone for a minute. if he has any return of reason, compel him to talk. he knows you, and will be as greatly frightened at your presence and knowledge as at mine. besides, you have fully as much at stake as any one, for in no other way can the existing barrier between naida and yourself be broken down." insisting that now he felt perfectly fit for any service, the impatient hampton was quickly supplied with the necessary food and clothing, while murphy, grown violently abusive, was strapped on a litter between two mules, a guard on either side. brant rode with the civilian on a sharp trot as far as the head of the pack-train, endeavoring to the very last to persuade the wearied man to relinquish this work to another. "foster," he said to the sergeant in command of the advance, "did you chance to notice just what _coulée_ custer turned into when his column swung to the right?" "i think it must have been the second yonder, sir; where you see that bunch of trees. we was a long ways back, but i could see the boys plain enough as they come out on the bluff up there. some of 'em waved their hats back at us. is this man goin' after them, sir?" "yes, he has despatches from cheyenne." "well, he ought ter have no trouble findin' the trail. it ought ter be 'bout as plain as a road back in god's country, sir, fer there were more than two hundred horses, and they'd leave a good mark even on hard ground." brant held out his hand. "i'll certainly do all in my power, hampton, to bring this out right. you can rely on that, and i will be faithful to the little girl. now, just a word to guide you regarding our situation here. we have every reason for believing that the sioux are in considerable force in our front somewhere, and not far down this stream. nobody knows just how strong they are, but it looks to me as if we were pretty badly split up for a very heavy engagement. not that i question custer's plan, you understand, only he may be mistaken about what the indians will do. benteen's battalion is out there to the west; reno is just ahead of us up the valley; while custer has taken five troops on a detour to the right across the bluffs, hoping to come down on the rear of the sioux. the idea is to crush them between the three columns. no one of these detachments has more than two hundred men, yet it may come out all right if they only succeed in striking together. still it 's risky in such rough country, not knowing exactly where the enemy is. well, good luck to you, and take care of yourself." the two men clasped hands, their eyes filled with mutual confidence. then hampton touched spurs to his horse, and galloped swiftly forward. chapter vii the fight in the valley far below, in the heart of the sunny depression bordering the left bank of the little big horn, the stalwart troopers under reno's command gazed up the steep bluff to wave farewell to their comrades disappearing to the right. last of all, custer halted his horse an instant, silhouetted against the blue sky, and swung his hat before spurring out of sight. the plan of battle was most simple and direct. it involved a nearly simultaneous attack upon the vast indian village from below and above, success depending altogether upon the prompt coöperation of the separate detachments. this was understood by every trooper in the ranks. scarcely had custer's slender column of horsemen vanished across the summit before reno's command advanced, trotting down the valley, the arikara scouts in the lead. they had been chosen to strike the first blow, to force their way into the lower village, and thus to draw the defending warriors to their front, while custer's men were to charge upon the rear. it was an old trick of the seventh, and not a man in saddle ever dreamed the plan could fail. a half-mile, a mile, reno's troops rode, with no sound breaking the silence but the pounding of hoofs, the tinkle of accoutrements. then, rounding a sharp projection of earth and rock, the scattered lodges of the indian village already partially revealed to those in advance, the riders were brought to sudden halt by a fierce crackling of rifles from rock and ravine, an outburst of fire in their faces, the wild, resounding screech of war-cries, and the scurrying across their front of dense bodies of mounted warriors, hideous in paint and feathers. men fell cursing, and the frightened horses swerved, their riders struggling madly with their mounts, the column thrown into momentary confusion. but the surprised cavalrymen, quailing beneath the hot fire poured into them, rallied to the shouts of their officers, and swung into a slender battle-front, stretching out their thin line from the bank of the river to the sharp uplift of the western bluffs. riderless horses crashed through them, neighing with pain; the wounded begged for help; while, with cries of terror, the cowardly arikara scouts lashed their ponies in wild efforts to escape. scarcely one hundred and fifty white troopers waited to stem as best they might that fierce onrush of twelve hundred battle-crazed braves. for an almost breathless space those mingled hordes of sioux and cheyennes hesitated to drive straight home their death-blow. they knew those silent men in the blue shirts, knew they died hard. upon that slight pause pivoted the fate of the day; upon it hung the lives of those other men riding boldly and trustfully across the sunlit ridges above. "audacity, always audacity," that is the accepted motto for a cavalryman. and be the cause what it may, it was here that major reno failed. in that supreme instant he was guilty of hesitancy, doubt, delay. he chose defence in preference to attack, dallied where he should have acted. instead of hurling like a thunderbolt that handful of eager fighting men straight at the exposed heart of the foe, making dash and momentum, discipline and daring, an offset to lack of numbers, he lingered in indecision, until the observing savages, gathering courage from his apparent weakness, burst forth in resistless torrent against the slender, unsupported line, turned his flank by one fierce charge, and hurled the struggling troopers back with a rush into the narrow strip of timber bordering the river. driven thus to bay, the stream at their back rendering farther retreat impossible, for a few moments the light carbines of the soldiers met the indian rifles, giving back lead for lead. but already every chance for successful attack had vanished; the whole narrow valley seemed to swarm with braves; they poured forth from sheltering _coulées_ and shadowed ravines; they dashed down in countless numbers from the distant village. custer, now far away behind the bluffs, and almost beyond sound of the firing, was utterly ignored. every savage chief knew exactly where that column was, but it could await its turn; gall, crazy horse, and crow king mustered their red warriors for one determined effort to crush reno, to grind him into dust beneath their ponies' hoofs. ay, and they nearly did it! in leaderless effort to break away from that swift-gathering cordon, before the red, remorseless folds should close tighter and crush them to death, the troopers, half of them already dismounted, burst from cover in an endeavor to attain the shelter of the bluffs. the deadly indian rifles flamed in their faces, and they were hurled back, a mere fleeing mob, searching for nothing in that moment of terror but a possible passageway across the stream. through some rare providence of god, they chanced to strike the banks at a spot where the river proved fordable. they plunged headlong in, officers and men commingled, the indian bullets churning up the water on every side; they struggled madly through, and spurred their horses up the steep ridge beyond. a few cool-headed veterans halted at the edge of the bank to defend the passage; but the majority, crazed by panic and forgetful of all discipline, raced frantically for the summit. dr. de wolf stood at the very water's edge firing until shot down; mcintosh, striving vainly to rally his demoralized men, sank with a bullet in his brain; hodgson, his leg broken by a ball, clung to a sergeant's stirrup until a second shot stretched him dead upon the bank. the loss in that wild retreat (which reno later called a "charge") was heavy, the effect demoralizing; but those who escaped found a spot well suited for defence. even as they swung down from off their wounded, panting horses, and flung themselves flat upon their faces to sweep with hastily levelled carbines the river banks below, benteen came trotting gallantly down the valley to their aid, his troopers fresh and eager to be thrown forward on the firing-line. the worst was over, and like maddened lions, the rallied soldiers of the seventh, cursing their folly, turned to strike and slay. the valley was obscured with clouds of dust and smoke, the day frightfully hot and suffocating. the various troop commanders, gaining control over their men, were prompt to act. a line of skirmishers was hastily thrown forward along the edge of the bluff, while volunteers, urged by the agonized cries of the wounded, endeavored vainly to procure a supply of water from the river. again and again they made the effort, only to be driven back by the deadly indian rifle fire. this came mostly from braves concealed behind rocks or protected by the timber along the stream, but large numbers of hostiles were plainly visible, not only in the valley, but also upon the ridges. the firing upon their position continued incessantly, the warriors continually changing their point of attack. by three o'clock, although the majority of the savages had departed down the river, enough remained to keep up a galling fire, and hold reno strictly on the defensive. these reds skulked in ravines, or lined the banks of the river, their long-range rifles rendering the lighter carbines of the cavalrymen almost valueless. a few crouched along the edge of higher eminences, their shots crashing in among the unprotected troops. as the men lay exposed to this continuous sniping fire, above the surrounding din were borne to their ears the reports of distant guns. it came distinctly from the northward, growing heavier and more continuous. none among them doubted its ominous meaning. custer was already engaged in hot action at the right of the indian village. why were they kept lying there in idleness? why were they not pushed forward to do their part? they looked into each other's faces. god! they were three hundred now; they could sweep aside like chaff that fringe of red skirmishers if only they got the word! with hearts throbbing, every nerve tense, they waited, each trooper crouched for the spring. officer after officer, unable to restrain his impatience, strode back across the bluff summit, amid whistling bullets, and personally begged the major to speak the one word which should hurl them to the rescue. they cried like women, they swore through clinched teeth, they openly exhibited their contempt for such a commander, yet the discipline of army service made active disobedience impossible. they went reluctantly back, as helpless as children. it was four o'clock, the shadows of the western bluffs already darkening the river bank. suddenly a faint cheer ran along the lines, and the men lifted themselves to gaze up the river. urging the tired animals to a trot, the strong hand of a trooper grasping every halter-strap, brant was swinging his long pack-train up the smoke-wreathed valley. the out-riding flankers exchanged constant shots with the skulking savages hiding in every ravine and coulée. pausing only to protect their wounded, fighting their way step by step, n troop ran the gantlet and came charging into the cheering lines with every pound of their treasure safe. weir of d, whose dismounted troopers held that portion of the line, strode a pace forward to greet the leader, and as the extended hands of the officers met, there echoed down to them from the north the reports of two heavy volleys, fired in rapid succession. the sounds were clear, distinctly audible even above the uproar of the valley. the heavy eyes of the two soldiers met, their dust-streaked faces flushed. "that was a signal, custer's signal for help!" the younger man cried, impulsively, his voice full of agony. "for god's sake, weir, what are you fellows waiting here for?" the other uttered a groan, his hand flung in contempt back toward the bluff summit. "the cowardly fool won't move; he's whipped to death now." brant's jaw set like that of a fighting bulldog. "reno, you mean? whipped? you have n't lost twenty men. is this the seventh--the seventh?--skulking here under cover while custer begs help? doesn't the man know? doesn't he understand? by heaven, i 'll face him myself! i 'll make him act, even if i have to damn him to his face." he swung his horse with a jerk to the left, but even as the spurs touched, weir grasped the taut rein firmly. "it's no use, brant. it's been done; we've all been at him. he's simply lost his head. know? of course he knows. martini struck us just below here, as we were coming in, with a message from custer. it would have stirred the blood of any one but him--oh, god! it's terrible." "a message? what was it?" "cook wrote it, and addressed it to benteen. it read: 'come on. big village. be quick. bring packs.' and then, 'p. s.--bring packs.' that means they want ammunition badly; they're fighting to the death out yonder, and they need powder. oh, the coward!" brant's eyes ran down the waiting line of his own men, sitting their saddles beside the halted pack-animals. he leaned over and dropped one hand heavily on weir's shoulder. "the rest of you can do as you please, but n troop is going to take those ammunition packs over to custer if there's any possible way to get through, orders or no orders." he straightened up in the saddle, and his voice sounded down the wearied line like the blast of a trumpet. "attention! n troop! right face; dress. number four bring forward the ammunition packs. no, leave the others where they are; move lively, men!" he watched them swing like magic into formation, their dust-begrimed faces lighting up with animation. they knew their officer, and this meant business. "unsling carbines--load!" weir, the veteran soldier, glanced down that steady line of ready troopers, and then back to brant's face. "do you mean it? are you going up those bluffs? good heavens, man, it will mean a court-martial." "custer commands the seventh. i command the pack-train," said brant. "his orders are to bring up the packs. perhaps i can't get through alone, but i 'll try. better a court-martial than to fail those men out there. going? of course i 'm going. into line--take intervals--forward!" "attention, d troop!" it was weir's voice, eager and determined now. like an undammed current his orders rang out above the uproar, and in a moment the gallant troopers of n and d, some on foot, some in saddle, were rushing up the face of the bluff, their officers leading, the precious ammunition packs at the centre, all alike scrambling for the summit, in spite of the crackling of indian rifles from every side. foot by foot they fought their way forward, sliding and stumbling, until the little blue wave burst out against the sky-line and sent an exultant cheer back to those below. panting, breathless from the hard climb, their carbines spitting fire while the rapidly massing savages began circling their exposed position, the little band fought their way forward a hundred yards. then they halted, blocked by the numbers barring their path, glancing back anxiously in hope that their effort would encourage others to join them. they could do it; they could do it if only the rest of the boys would come. they poured in their volleys and waited. but reno made no move. weir and brant, determined to hold every inch thus gained, threw the dismounted men on their faces behind every projection of earth, and encircled the ridge with flame. if they could not advance, they would not be driven back. they were high up now, where they could overlook the numerous ridges and valleys far around; and yonder, perhaps two miles away, they could perceive vast bodies of mounted indians, while the distant sound of heavy firing was borne faintly to their ears. it was vengeful savages shooting into the bodies of the dead, but that they did not know. messenger after messenger, taking life in hand, was sent skurrying down the bluff, to beg reinforcements to push on for the rescue, swearing it was possible. but it was after five o'clock before reno moved. then cautiously he advanced his column toward where n and d troops yet held desperately to the exposed ridge. he came too late. that distant firing had ceased, and all need for further advance had ended. already vast forces of indians, flushed with victory and waving bloody scalps, were sweeping back across the ridges to attack in force. scarcely had reinforcements attained the summit before the torrent of savagery burst screeching on their front. from point to point the grim struggle raged, till nightfall wrought partial cessation. the wearied troopers stretched out their lines so as to protect the packs and the field hospital, threw themselves on the ground, digging rifle-pits with knives and tin pans. not until nine o'clock did the indian fire slacken, and then the village became a scene of savage revel, the wild yelling plainly audible to the soldiers above. through the black night brant stepped carefully across the recumbent forms of his men, and made his way to the field hospital. in the glare of the single fire the red sear of a bullet showed clearly across his forehead, but he wiped away the slowly trickling blood, and bent over a form extended on a blanket. "has he roused up?" he questioned of the trooper on guard. "not to know nuthin', sir. he's bin swearin' an' gurglin' most o' ther time, but he's asleep now, i reckon." the young officer stood silent, his face pale, his gaze upon the distant indian fires. out yonder were defeat, torture, death, and to-morrow meant a renewal of the struggle. his heart was heavy with foreboding, his memory far away with one to whom all this misfortune might come almost as a death-blow. it was naida's questioning face that haunted him; she was waiting for she knew not what. chapter viii the old regiment by the time hampton swung up the _coulée_, he had dismissed from his attention everything but the business that had brought him there. no lingering thought of naida, or of the miserable murphy, was permitted to interfere with the serious work before him. to be once again with the old seventh was itself inspiration; to ride with them into battle was the chief desire of his heart. it was a dream of years, which he had never supposed possible of fulfilment, and he rode rapidly forward, his lips smiling, the sunshine of noonday lighting up his face. he experienced no fear, no premonition of coming disaster, yet the reawakened plainsman in him kept him sufficiently wary and cautious. the faint note of discontent apparent in brant's concluding words--doubtless merely an echo of that ambitious officer's dislike at being put on guard over the pack-train at such a moment--awoke no response in his mind. he possessed a soldier's proud confidence in his regiment--the supposition that the old fighting seventh could be defeated was impossible; the indians did not ride those uplands who could do the deed! then there came to him a nameless dread, that instinctive shrinking which a proud, sensitive man must ever feel at having to face his old companions with the shadow of a crime between. in his memory he saw once more a low-ceiled room, having a table extending down the centre, with grave-faced men, dressed in the full uniform of the service, looking at him amid a silence like unto death; and at the head sat a man with long fair hair and mustache, his proud eyes never to be forgotten. now, after silent years, he was going to look into those accusing eyes again. he pressed his hand against his forehead, his body trembled; then he braced himself for the interview, and the shuddering coward in him shrank back. he had become wearied of the endless vista of desert, rock, and plain. yet now it strangely appealed to him in its beauty. about him were those uneven, rolling hills, like a vast storm-lashed sea, the brown crests devoid of life, yet with depressions between sufficient to conceal multitudes. once he looked down through a wide cleft in the face of the bluff, and could perceive the head of the slowly advancing pack-train far below. away to the left something was moving, a dim, shapeless dash of color. it might be benteen, but of reno's columns he could perceive nothing, nor anything of custer's excepting that broad track across the prairies marked by his horses' hoofs. this track hampton followed, pressing his fresh mount to increased speed, confident that no indian spies would be loitering so closely in the rear of that body of cavalry, and becoming fearful lest the attack should occur before he could arrive. he dipped over a sharp ridge and came suddenly upon the rear-guard. they were a little squad of dusty, brown-faced troopers, who instantly wheeled into line at sound of approaching hoofs, the barrels of their lowered carbines glistening in the sun. with a swing of the hand, and a hoarse shout of "despatches!" he was beyond them, bending low over his saddle pommel, his eyes on the dust cloud of the moving column. the extended line of horsemen, riding in column of fours, came to a sudden halt, and he raced swiftly on. a little squad of officers, several of their number dismounted, were out in front, standing grouped just below the summit of a slight elevation, apparently looking off into the valley through some cleft in the bluff beyond. standing among these, hampton perceived the long fair hair, and the erect figure clad in the well-known frontier costume, of the man he sought,--the proud, dashing leader of light cavalry, that beau ideal of the _sabreur_, the one he dreaded most, the one he loved best,--custer. the commander stood, field-glasses in hand, pointing down into the valley, and the despatch bearer, reining in his horse, his lips white but resolute, trotted straight up the slope toward him. custer wheeled, annoyed at the interruption, and hampton swung down from the saddle, his rein flung across his arm, took a single step forward, lifting his hand in salute, and held forth the sealed packet. "despatches, sir," he said, simply, standing motionless as a statue. the commander, barely glancing toward him, instantly tore open the long official envelope and ran his eyes over the despatch amid a hush in the conversation. "gentlemen," he commented to the little group gathered about him, yet without glancing up from the paper in his hand, "crook was defeated over on the rosebud the seventeenth, and forced to retire. that will account for the unexpected number of hostiles fronting us up here, cook; but the greater the task, the greater the glory. ah, i thought as much. i am advised by the department to keep in close touch with terry and gibbons, and to hold off from making a direct attack until infantry can arrive in support. rather late in the day, i take it, when we are already within easy rifle-shot. i see nothing in these orders to interfere with our present plans, nor any military necessity for playing hide and seek all summer in these hills. that looks like a big village down yonder, but i have led the dandy seventh into others just as large." he stopped speaking, and glanced up inquiringly into the face of the silent messenger, apparently mistaking him for one of his own men. "where did you get this?" "cheyenne, sir." "what! do you mean to say you brought it through from there?" "silent murphy carried it as far as the powder river. he went crazy there, and i was compelled to strap him. i brought it the rest of the way." "where is murphy?" "back with the pack-train, sir. i got him through alive, but entirely gone in the head." "run across many hostiles in that region?" "they were thick this side the rosebud; all bucks, and travelling north." "sioux?" "mostly, sir, but i saw one band wearing cheyenne war-bonnets." a puzzled look slowly crept into the strong face of the abrupt questioner, his stern, commanding eyes studying the man standing motionless before him, with freshly awakened interest. the gaze of the other faltered, then came back courageously. "i recognize you now," custer said, quietly. "am i to understand you are again in the service?" "my presence here is purely accidental, general custer. the opportunity came to me to do this work, and i very gladly accepted the privilege." the commander hesitated, scarcely knowing what he might be justified in saying to this man. "it was a brave deed, well performed," he said at last, with soldierly cordiality, "although i can hardly offer you a fitting reward." the other stood bareheaded, his face showing pale under its sunburn, his hand trembling violently where it rested against his horse's mane. "there is little i desire," he replied, slowly, unable to altogether disguise the quiver in his voice, "and that is to be permitted to ride once more into action in the ranks of the seventh." the true-hearted, impulsive, manly soldier fronting him reddened to the roots of his fair hair, his proud eyes instantly softening. for a second hampton even imagined he would extend his hand, but the other paused with one step forward, discipline proving stronger than impulse. "spoken like a true soldier," he exclaimed, a new warmth in his voice. "you shall have your wish. take position in calhoun's troop yonder." hampton turned quietly away, leading his horse, yet had scarcely advanced three yards before custer halted him. "i shall be pleased to talk with you again after the fight," he said, briefly, as though half doubting the propriety of such words. the other bowed, his face instantly brightening. "i thank you sincerely." the perplexed commander stood motionless, gazing after the receding figure, his face grown grave and thoughtful. then he turned to the wondering adjutant beside him. "you never knew him, did you, cook?" "i think not, sir; who is he?" "captain nolan--you have heard the story." the younger officer wheeled about, staring, but the despatch bearer had already become indistinguishable among the troopers. "is that so?" he exclaimed, in evident surprise. "he has a manly face." "ay, and he was as fine a soldier as ever fought under the flag," declared custer, frankly. "poor devil! the hardest service i was ever called upon to perform was the day we broke him. i wonder if calhoun will recognize the face; they were good friends once." he stopped speaking, and for a time his field-glasses were fastened upon a small section of indian village nestled in the green valley. its full extent was concealed by the hills, yet from what the watchers saw they realized that this would prove no small encampment. "i doubt if many warriors are there," he commented, at last. "they may have gone up the river to intercept reno's advance, and if so, this should be our time to strike. but we are not far enough around, and this ground is too rough for cavalry. there looks to be considerable level land out yonder, and that _coulée_ ought to lead us into it without peril of observation from below. return to your commands, gentlemen, and with the order of march see personally that your men move quietly. we must strike quick and hard, driving the wedge home with a single blow." his inquiring gaze swept thoughtfully over the expectant faces of his troop commanders. "that will be all at present, gentlemen; you will require no further instructions until we deploy. captain calhoun, just a word, please." the officer thus directly addressed, a handsome, stalwart man of middle age, reined in his mettlesome horse and waited. "captain, the messenger who has just brought us despatches from cheyenne is a civilian, but has requested permission to have a share in this coming fight. i have assigned him to your troop." calhoun bowed. "i thought it best to spare you any possible embarrassment by saying that the man is not entirely unknown to you." "may i ask his name?" "robert nolan." the strong, lion-like face flushed under its tan, then quickly lit up with a smile. "i thank you. captain nolan will not suffer at my hands." he rode straight toward his troop, his eyes searching the ranks until they rested upon the averted face of hampton. he pressed forward, and leaned from the saddle, extending a gauntleted hand. "nolan, old man, welcome back to the seventh!" for an instant their eyes met, those of the officer filled with manly sympathy, the other's moistened and dim, his face like marble. then the two hands clasped and clung, in a grip more eloquent than words. the lips of the disgraced soldier quivered, and he uttered not a word. it was calhoun who spoke. "i mean it all, nolan. from that day to this i have believed in you,--have held you friend." for a moment the man reeled; then, as though inspired by a new-born hope, he sat firmly erect, and lifted his hand in salute. "those are words i have longed to hear spoken for fifteen years. they are more to me than life. may god help me to be worthy of them. oh, calhoun, calhoun!" for a brief space the two remained still and silent, their faces reflecting repressed feeling. then the voice of command sounded out in front; calhoun gently withdrew his hand from the other's grasp, and with bowed head rode slowly to the front of his troop. in column of fours, silent, with not a canteen rattling, with scabbards thrust under their stirrup leathers, each man sitting his saddle like a statue, ready carbine flung forward across the pommel, those sunburnt troopers moved steadily down the broad _coulée_. there was no pomp, no sparkle of gay uniforms. no military band rode forth to play their famous battle tune of "garryowen"; no flags waved above to inspire them, yet never before or since to a field of strife and death rode nobler hearts or truer. troop following troop, their faded, patched uniforms brown with dust, their campaign hats pulled low to shade them from the glare, those dauntless cavalrymen of the seventh swept across the low intervening ridge toward the fateful plain below. the troopers riding at either side of hampton, wondering still at their captain's peculiar words and action, glanced curiously at their new comrade, marvelling at his tightly pressed lips, his moistened eyes. yet in all the glorious column, no heart lighter than his, or happier, pressed forward to meet a warrior's death. chapter ix the last stand however daring the pen, it cannot but falter when attempting to picture the events of those hours of victorious defeat. out from the scene of carnage there crept forth no white survivor to recount the heroic deeds of the seventh cavalry. no voice can ever repeat the story in its fulness, no eye penetrate into the heart of its mystery. only in motionless lines of dead, officers and men lying as they fell while facing the foe; in emptied carbines strewing the prairie; in scattered, mutilated bodies; in that unbroken ring of dauntless souls whose lifeless forms lay clustered about the figure of their stricken chief on that slight eminence marking the final struggle--only in such tokens can we trace the broken outlines of the historic picture. the actors in the great tragedy have passed beyond either the praise or the blame of earth. with moistened eyes and swelling hearts, we vainly strive to imagine the whole scene. this, at least, we know: no bolder, nobler deed of arms was ever done. it was shortly after two o'clock in the afternoon when that compact column of cavalrymen moved silently forward down the concealing _coulée_ toward the more open ground beyond. custer's plan was surprise, the sudden smiting of that village in the valley from the rear by the quick charge of his horsemen. from man to man the whispered purpose travelled down the ranks, the eager troopers greeting the welcome message with kindling eyes. it was the old way of the seventh, and they knew it well. the very horses seemed to feel the electric shock. worn with hard marches, bronzed by long weeks of exposure on alkali plains, they advanced now with the precision of men on parade, under the observant eyes of the officers. not a canteen tinkled, not a sabre rattled within its scabbard, as at a swift, noiseless walk those tried warriors of the seventh pressed forward to strike once more their old-time foes. above them a few stray, fleecy clouds flecked the blue of the arching sky, serving only to reveal its depth of color. on every side extended the rough irregularity of a region neither mountain nor plain, a land of ridges and bluffs, depressions and ravines. over all rested the golden sunlight of late june; and in all the broad expanse there was no sign of human presence. with custer riding at the head of the column, and only a little to the rear of the advance scouts, his adjutant cook, together with a volunteer aide, beside him, the five depleted troops filed resolutely forward, dreaming not of possible defeat. suddenly distant shots were heard far off to their left and rear, and deepening into a rumble, evidencing a warm engagement. the interested troopers lifted their heads, listening intently, while eager whispers ran from man to man along the closed files. "reno is going in, boys; it will be our turn next." "close up! quiet there, lads, quiet," officer after officer passed the word of command. yet there were those among them who felt a strange dread--that firing sounded so far up the stream from where reno should have been by that time. still it might be that those overhanging bluffs would muffle and deflect the reports. those fighting men of the seventh rode steadily on, unquestioningly pressing forward at the word of their beloved leader. all about them hovered death in dreadful guise. none among them saw those cruel, spying eyes watching from distant ridges, peering at them from concealed ravines; none marked the rapidly massing hordes, hideous in war-paint, crowded into near-by _coulées_ and behind protecting hills. it burst upon them with wild yells. the gloomy ridges blazed into their startled faces, the dark ravines hurled at them skurrying horsemen, while, wherever their eyes turned, they beheld savage forms leaping forth from hill and _coulée_, gulch and rock shadow. horses fell, or ran about neighing; men flung up their hands and died in that first awful minute of consternation, and the little column seemed to shrivel away as if consumed by the flame which struck it, front and flank and rear. it was as if those men had ridden into the mouth of hell. god only knows the horror of that first moment of shrinking suspense--the screams of agony from wounded men and horses, the dies of fear, the thunder of charging hoofs, the deafening roar of rifles. yet it was for scarcely more than a minute. men trained, strong, clear of brain, were in those stricken lines--men who had seen indian battle before. the recoil came, swift as had been the surprise. voice after voice rang out in old familiar orders, steadying instantly the startled nerves; discipline conquered disorder, and the shattered column rolled out, as if by magic, into the semblance of a battle line. on foot and on horseback, the troopers of the seventh turned desperately at bay. it was magnificently done. custer and his troop-commanders brought their sorely smitten men into a position of defence, even hurled them cheering forward in short, swift charges, so as to clear the front and gain room in which to deploy. out of confusion emerged discipline, confidence, _esprit de corps_. the savages skurried away on their quirt-lashed ponies, beyond range of those flaming carbines, while the cavalry-men, pausing from vain pursuit, gathered up their wounded, and re-formed their disordered ranks. "wait till reno rides into their village," cried encouraged voices through parched lips. "then we'll give them hell!" safe beyond range of the troopers' light carbines, the indians, with their heavier rifles, kept hurling a constant storm of lead, hugging the gullies, and spreading out until there was no rear toward which the harassed cavalrymen could turn for safety. one by one, continually under a heavy fire, the scattered troops were formed into something more nearly resembling a battle line--calhoun on the left, then keogh, smith, and yates, with tom custer holding the extreme right. the position taken was far from being an ideal one, yet the best possible under the circumstances, and the exhausted men flung themselves down behind low ridges, seeking protection from the sioux bullets, those assigned to the right enjoying the advantage of a somewhat higher elevation. thus they waited grimly for the next assault. nor was it long delayed. scarcely had the troopers recovered, refilled their depleted cartridge belts from those of their dead comrades, when the onslaught came. lashing their ponies into mad gallop, now sitting erect, the next moment lying hidden behind the plunging animals, constantly screaming their shrill war-cries, their guns brandished in air, they swept onward, seeking to crush that thin line in one terrible onset. but they reckoned wrong. the soldiers waited their coming. the short, brown-barrelled carbines gleamed at the level in the sunlight, and then belched forth their message of flame into the very faces of those reckless horsemen. it was not in flesh and blood to bear such a blow. with screams of rage, the red braves swerved to left and right, leaving many a dark, war-bedecked figure lying dead behind them, and many a riderless pony skurrying over the prairie. yet their wild ride had not been altogether in vain; like a whirlwind they had struck against calhoun on the flank, forcing his troopers to yield sullen ground, thus contracting the little semicircle of defenders, pressing it back against that central hill. it was a step nearer the end, yet those who fought scarcely realized its significance. exultant over their seemingly successful repulse, the men flung themselves again upon the earth, their cheers ringing out above the thud of retreating hoofs. "we can hold them here, boys, until reno comes," they shouted to each other. the skulking red riflemen crept ever closer behind the ridges, driving their deadly missiles into those ranks exposed in the open. twice squads dashed forth to dislodge these bands, but were in turn driven back, the line of fire continually creeping nearer, clouds of smoke concealing the cautious marksmen lying prone in the grass. custer walked up and down the irregular line, cool, apparently unmoved, speaking words of approval to officers and men. to the command of the bugle they discharged two roaring volleys from their carbines, hopeful that the combined sound might reach the ears of the lagging reno. they were hopeful yet, although one troop had only a sergeant left in command, and the dead bodies of their comrades strewed the plain. twice those fierce red horsemen tore down upon them, forcing the thin, struggling line back by sheer strength of overwhelming numbers, yet no madly galloping warrior succeeded in bursting through. the hot brown barrels belched forth their lightnings into those painted faces, and the swarms of savagery melted away. the living sheltered themselves behind the bodies of their dead, fighting now in desperation, their horses stampeded, their ammunition all gone excepting the few cartridges remaining in the waist-belts. from lip to lip passed the one vital question: "in god's name, where is reno? what has become of the rest of the boys?" it was four o'clock. for two long hours they had been engaged in ceaseless struggle; and now barely a hundred men, smoke-begrimed, thirsty, bleeding, half their carbines empty, they still formed an impenetrable ring around their chief. the struggle was over, and they realized the fact. when that wave of savage horsemen swept forth again it would be to ride them down, to crush them under their horses' pounding hoofs. they turned their loyal eyes toward him they loved and followed for the last time, and when he uttered one final word of undaunted courage, they cheered him faintly, with parched and fevered lips. like a whirlwind those red demons came,--howling wolves now certain of their prey. from rock and hill, ridge, ravine, and _coulée_, lashing their half-crazed ponies, yelling their fierce war-cries, swinging aloft their rifles, they poured resistlessly forth, sweeping down on that doomed remnant. on both flanks of the short slender line struck gall and crazy horse, while like a thunderbolt crow-king and rain-in-the-face attacked the centre. these three storms converged at the foot of the little hill, crushing the little band of troopers. with ammunition gone, the helpless victims could meet that mighty on-rushing torrent only with clubbed guns, for one instant of desperate struggle. shoulder to shoulder, in ever-contracting circle, officers and men stood shielding their commander to the last. foot by foot, they were forced back, treading on their wounded, stumbling over their dead; they were choked in the stifling smoke, scorched by the flaming guns, clutched at by red hands, beaten down by horses' hoofs. twenty or thirty made a despairing dash, in a vain endeavor to burst through the red enveloping lines, only to be tomahawked or shot; but the most remained, a thin struggling ring, with custer in its centre. then came the inevitable end. the red waves surged completely across the crest, no white man left alive upon the field. they had fought a good fight; they had kept the faith. two days later, having relieved reno from his unpleasant predicament in the valley, terry's and gibbons's infantry tramped up the ravine, and emerged upon the stricken field. in lines of motionless dead they read the fearful story; and there they found that man we know. lying upon a bed of emptied cartridge-shells, his body riddled with shot and mutilated with knives, his clothing torn to rags, his hands grasping a smashed and twisted carbine, his lips smiling even in death, was that soldier whom the seventh had disowned and cast out, but who had come back to defend its chief and to die for its honor,--robert hampton nolan. chapter x the curtain falls bronzed by months of scouting on those northern plains, a graver, older look upon his face, and the bars of a captain gracing the shoulders of his new cavalry jacket, donald brant trotted down the stage road bordering the bear water, his heart alternating between hope and dread. he was coming back as he had promised; yet, ardently as he longed to look into the eyes of his beloved, he shrank from the duty laid upon him by the dead. the familiar yellow house at the cross-roads appeared so unattractive as to suggest the thought that naida must have been inexpressibly lonely during those months of waiting. he knocked at the sun-warped door. without delay it was flung open, and a vision of flushed face and snowy drapery confronted him. "why, lieutenant brant! i was never more surprised in my life. do, pray, come right in. yes, naida is here, and i will have her sent for at once. oh, howard, this is lieutenant brant, just back from his awful indian fighting. how very nice that he should happen to arrive just at this time, is n't it?" the young officer, as yet unable to discover an opportunity for speech, silently accepted mr. wynkoop's extended hand, and found a convenient chair, as miss spencer hastened from the room to announce his arrival. "why 'just at this time'?" he questioned. mr. wynkoop cleared his throat. "why--why, you see, we are to be married this evening--miss spencer and myself. we--we shall be so delighted to have you witness the ceremony. it is to take place at the church, and my people insist upon making quite an affair out of the occasion--phoebe is so popular, you know." the lady again bustled in, her eyes glowing with enthusiasm. "why, i think it is perfectly delightful. don't you, howard? now lieutenant brant and naida can stand up with us. you will, won't you, lieutenant?" "that must be left entirely with miss naida for decision," he replied, soberly. "however, with my memory of your popularity i should suppose you would have no lack of men seeking such honor. for instance, one of your old-time 'friends' mr. william mcneil." the lady laughed noisily, regardless of mr. wynkoop's look of annoyance. "oh, it is so perfectly ridiculous! and did n't you know? have n't you heard?" "nothing, i assure you." "why he--he actually married the widow guffy. she 's twice his age, and has a grown-up son. and to think that i supposed he was so nice! he did write beautiful verses. is n't it a perfect shame for such a man to throw himself away like that?" "it would seem so. but there was another whose name i recall--jack moffat. why not have him?" miss spencer glanced uneasily at her chosen companion, her cheeks reddening. but that gentleman remained provokingly silent, and she was compelled to reply. "we--we never mention him any more. he was a very bad man." "indeed?" "yes; it seems he had a wife and four children he had run away from, back in iowa. perhaps that was why his eyes always looked so sad. she actually advertised for him in one of the omaha papers. it was a terrible shock to all of us. i was so grateful to howard that he succeeded in opening my eyes in time." mr. wynkoop placed his hand gently upon her shoulder. "never mind, dearie," he said, cheerfully. "the west was all so strange to you, and it seemed very wonderful at first. but that is all safely over with now, and, as my wife, you will forget the unpleasant memories." and miss spencer, totally oblivious to brant's presence, turned impulsively and kissed him. there was a rustle at the inner door, and naida stood there. their eyes met, and the color mounted swiftly to the girl's cheeks. then he stepped resolutely forward, forgetful of all other presence, and clasped her hand in both his own. neither spoke a word, yet each understood something of what was in the heart of the other. "will you walk outside with me?" he asked, at last. "i have much to say which i am sure you would rather hear alone." she bent her head, and with a brief word of explanation to the others, the young officer conducted her forth into the bright july sunshine. they walked in silence side by side along the bank of the little stream. brant glanced furtively toward the sweet, girlish face. there was a pallor on her countenance, a shadow in her eyes, yet she walked with the same easy grace, her head firmly poised above her white throat. the very sadness marking her features seemed to him an added beauty. he realized where they were going now, where memory had brought them without conscious volition. as he led her across the rivulet she glanced up into his face with a smile, as though a happy recollection had burst upon her. yet not a word was spoken until the barrier of underbrush had been completely penetrated, and they stood face to face under the trees. then brant spoke. "naida," he said, gravely, "i have come back, as i said i would, and surely i read welcome in your eyes?" "yes." "and i have come to say that there is no longer any shadow of the dead between us." she looked up quickly, her hands clasped, her cheeks flushing. "are you sure? perhaps you misunderstand; perhaps you mistake my meaning." "i know it all," he answered, soberly, "from the lips of hampton." "you have seen him? oh, lieutenant brant, please tell me the whole truth. i have missed him so much, and since the day he rode away to cheyenne not one word to explain his absence has come back to me. you cannot understand what this means, how much he has become to me through years of kindness." "you have heard nothing?" "not a word." brant drew a long, deep breath. he had supposed she knew this. at last he said gravely: "naida, the truth will prove the kindest message, i think. he died in that unbroken ring of defenders clustered about general custer on the bluffs of the little big horn." her slight figure trembled so violently that he held her close within his arms. "there was a smile upon his face when we found him. he performed his full duty, naida, and died as became a soldier and a gentleman." "but--but, this cannot be! i saw the published list; his name was not among them." "the man who fell was robert nolan." gently he drew her down to a seat upon the soft turf of the bank. she looked up at him helplessly, her mind seemingly dazed, her eyes yet filled with doubt. "robert nolan? my father?" he bent over toward her, pressing his lips to her hair and stroking it tenderly with his hand. "yes, naida, darling; it was truly robert hampton nolan who died in battle, in the ranks of his old regiment,--died as he would have chosen to die, and died, thank god! completely cleared of every stain upon his honor. sit up, little girl, and listen while i tell you. there is in the story no word which does not reflect nobility upon the soldier's daughter." she uplifted her white face. "tell me," she said, simply, "all you know." he recounted to her slowly, carefully, the details of that desperate journey northward, of their providential meeting on the little big horn, of the papers left in his charge, of hampton's riding forward with despatches, and of his death at custer's side. while he spoke, the girl scarcely moved; her breath came in sobs and her hands clasped his. "these are the papers, naida. i opened the envelope as directed, and found deeds to certain properties, including the mine in the black range; a will, duly signed and attested, naming you as his sole heir, together with a carefully prepared letter, addressed to you, giving a full account of the crime of which he was convicted, as well as some other matters of a personal nature. that letter you must read alone as his last message, but the truth of all he says has since been proved." she glanced up at him quickly. "by murphy?" "yes, by murphy, who is now lying in the hospital at bethune, slowly recovering. his sworn deposition has been forwarded to the department at washington, and will undoubtedly result in the honorable replacing of your father's name on the army list. i will tell you briefly the man's confession, together with the few additional facts necessary to make it clear. "your father and mine were for many years friends and army comrades. they saw service together during the great war, and afterward upon the plains in indian campaigning. unfortunately a slight misunderstanding arose between them. this, while not serious in itself, was made bitter by the interference of others, and the unaccountable jealousies of garrison life. one night they openly quarrelled when heated by wine, and exchanged blows. the following evening, your father chancing to be officer of the guard and on duty, my father, whose wife had then been dead a year, was thoughtless enough to accompany mrs. nolan home at a late hour from the post ball. it was merely an act of ordinary courtesy; but gossips magnified the tale, and bore it to nolan. still smarting from the former quarrel, in which i fear my father was in the wrong, he left the guard-house with the openly avowed intention of seeking immediate satisfaction. in the meanwhile slavin, murphy, and a trooper named flynn, who had been to town without passes, and were half-drunk, stole through the guard lines, and decided to make a midnight raid on the colonel's private office. dodging along behind the powder-house, they ran suddenly upon my father, then on the way to his own quarters. whether they were recognized by him, or whether drink made them reckless of consequences, is unknown, but one of the men instantly fired. then they ran, and succeeded in gaining the barracks unsuspected." she sat as if fascinated by his recital. "your father heard the shot, and sprang toward the sound, only to fall headlong across my father's lifeless body. as he came down heavily, his revolver was jarred out of its holster and dropped unnoticed in the grass. an instant later the guard came running up, and by morning captain nolan was under arrest, charged with murder. the circumstantial evidence was strong--his quarrel with the murdered man, his heated language a few moments previous, the revolver lying beside the body, having two chambers discharged, and his being found there alone with the man he had gone forth to seek. slavin and flynn both strengthened the case by positive testimony. as a result, a court martial dismissed the prisoner in disgrace from the army, and a civil court sentenced him to ten years' imprisonment." "and my mother?" the question was a trembling whisper from quivering lips. "your mother," he said, regretfully, "was an exceedingly proud woman, belonging to a family of social prominence in the east. she felt deeply the causeless gossip connecting her name with the case, as well as the open disgrace of her husband's conviction. she refused to receive her former friends, and even failed in loyalty to your father in his time of trial. it is impossible now to fix the fault clearly, or to account for her actions. captain nolan turned over all his property to her, and the moment she could do so, she disappeared from the fort, taking you with her. from that hour none of her old acquaintances could learn anything regarding her whereabouts. she did not return to her family in the east, nor correspond with any one in the army. probably, utterly broken-hearted, she sought seclusion in some city. how gillis obtained possession of you remains a mystery." "is that all?" "everything." they kept silence for a long while, the slow tears dropping from her eyes, her hands clasped in her lap. his heart, heavy with sympathy, would not permit him to break in upon her deep sorrow with words of comfort. "naida," he whispered, at last, "this may not be the time for me to speak such words, but you are all alone now. will you go back to bethune with me--back to the old regiment as my wife?" a moment she bowed her head before him; then lifted it and held out her hands. "i will." "say to me again what you once said." "donald, i love you." gently he drew her down to him, and their lips met. the red sun was sinking behind the fringe of trees, and the shadowed nook in which they sat was darkening fast. he had been watching her in silence, unable to escape feeling a little hurt because of her grave face, and those tears yet clinging to her lashes. "i wish you to be very happy, naida dear," he whispered, drawing her head tenderly down until it found rest upon his shoulder. "yes, i feel you do, and i am; but it cannot come all at once, donald, for i have lost so much--so much. i--i hope he knows." generously made available by the internet archive/american libraries.) sioux indian courts an address delivered by doane robinson of pierre, south dakota before the south dakota bar association at pierre, south dakota january , r. c. sessions & sons sioux falls s. d. sioux indian courts in their primitive life the sioux indians of north america had an intelligent system of jurisprudence, varying somewhat in the different bands, as our court practice varies in the several states, but nevertheless recognizing the same general principles throughout the confederacy.[ ] [ ] most writers upon indian life have noted the existence of these courts. since undertaking this paper, i have consulted hump, one bull, wakutemani and simon kirk, all intelligent sioux and, save as otherwise noted, they are my authorities for the statements herein contained. it is not an easy thing to determine the laws or the practices of an unlettered people, who have abandoned the wild and primitive life to live under regulations prescribed by their conquerors, and who must depend upon tradition and recollection for the practices of the old life; but fortunately intelligent observers have from time to time, during the past two and one half centuries, noted their observations, and these, supplemented by the recollections of the older men now living, give to us a fairly clear understanding of the courts and the legal practices of these people. primarily the sioux government was by clans,--patriarchal; but within the clan it very nearly approached the representative republican form. the council was the representative body which gave expression to the will of the people. true the council was selected by the chief of the clan, but his very tenure of office depended upon his using the nicest discretion in inviting into his cabinet the men of character, valor and influence, so that the body was almost invariably entirely representative of popular views and interests. caste cut a considerable figure; indeed it has been said by those most intimate with sioux life that there is as much caste among the dakotas as among the hindus.[ ] only high caste men of course would be permitted to sit in the deliberations, but when a council was to be convened the ordinary practice was for the chief's crier to go out and announce to the camp that a matter was to be considered in council, and the head men at once assembled and seated themselves in the council circle as a matter of course and of right.[ ] the chief, unquestionably a man of courage and physical power, was an executive officer who rarely asserted arbitrary rule, particularly in civil affairs, for the sioux were too high spirited a people to tolerate anything savoring of despotism. usually he was suave, diplomatic and tolerant, and enjoyed the affection and veneration of his people. most public affairs were determined in the general council, including many subjects naturally falling within the jurisdiction of courts of justice, but aside from the council were two distinct courts, one exercising jurisdiction in matters civil and criminal in times of peace; the other taking the broadest and most comprehensive jurisdiction of all things military, and in time of war assuming jurisdiction in all of the affairs of the people, arbitrarily placing the camp under martial law. [ ] miss mary c. collins, for thirty-three years missionary among the tetons, especially the hunkpapa and blackfoot bands. [ ] letter of dr. thomas l. riggs, to writer, june, . the judges of these courts were usually twelve in number and held their places by hereditary right, though occasionally some low caste man, through some brilliant exploit would break into this exclusive and aristocratic circle and sometimes even exercised dominating influence which the aristocrats dared not oppose, though he was still regarded as a plebian upstart, and was despised by the upper ten, and his rank died with him. ordinarily from seven to twelve judges sat for the trial of causes, but sometimes even a greater number were permitted. the civil court in time of peace took cognizance of civil and criminal matters arising in the band. civil actions usually grew out of disputes about the ownership of property and the court patiently heard the testimony of the parties and witnesses and at once determined the ownership of the article, delivered it to the successful litigant and the decision was never reviewed or questioned. a majority of the court determined the judgment. criminal matters of which the court took cognizance were assaults, rapes, larceny and murder; all crimes against persons; and if committed against a member of the tribe were severely dealt with. sometimes it was necessary to prove the crime by competent witnesses, and the court was the judge of the credibility of these who testified, but rarely, however, was it necessary to summon witnesses, for if the accused was really guilty it was a point of honor to admit the offense and take the consequences. thus the real responsibility resting upon the court in most cases was to determine the penalty. usually a severe penalty was imposed which could be satisfied by the payment of a certain number of horses or other specific property to the injured party, or his family, but if the offense was peculiarly repellent to the better sentiment of the camp the court might insist upon the summary infliction of the sentence imposed. this might be the death penalty, exile or whipping; or it might be the destruction of the teepee and other property of the convict. these latter penalties were, however, usually reserved for another class of offenses; crimes which were against the community rather than against an individual. these offenses were generally violations of the game laws and the offender could expect little mercy. how reasonable this policy was will be readily understood when we recall that the subsistence of the entire nation depended almost entirely upon the preservation of the wild game. the individual, who would wantonly kill game fit for food, or frighten it away needlessly from the vicinity of the camps was a public enemy and was treated accordingly. he was fined, his property destroyed, he was whipped, or if a persistent offender, he was reduced from his position as a hunter and made to do the menial duties of a squaw; the latter being the most humiliating and terrible sentence which could be imposed, deemed much worse than death and if the convict was a man of ordinary spirit he usually chose to commit suicide in preference.[ ] [ ] interview with joseph laframboise of veblen, a sisseton, at sioux falls, in october, . for some offenses a convict was exiled from the camp, given an old teepee and a blanket, but no arms, and was allowed to make a living if he could. sometimes he would go off and join some other band, but such conduct was not considered good form and he usually set up his establishment on some small hill near the home camp and made the best of the situation. if he conducted himself properly he was usually soon forgiven and restored to his rights in the community. if he went off to another people he lost all standing among the sioux and was thereafter treated as an outlaw and a renegade. the entire band of inkpaduta, once the terror of the dakota frontier, was composed of these outlaws.[ ] [ ] flandreau's minnesota. the camp policeman was a most important officer of the court and he frequently took upon himself the adjudication of petty quarrels and the summary punishment of small offenses committed within his view. he was appointed by the chief for one or more days' service and he made the most of his brief span of authority. in addition to executing the orders of the court he was always on watch to preserve the tranquility of the camp during the day and he stood upon guard at night. when ordered to do a thing it was a point of honor to accomplish it or die in the attempt. he was a peace officer, delighting to fight for peace' sake at any time.[ ] [ ] journal of lewis and clark september th and th, . while the civil court was composed of the "elder statesmen" the military court was composed of the war chief and his most distinguished braves, and, as has been before suggested herein, exercised unlimited power in time of war and was implicitly obeyed. it took jurisdiction of all matters growing out of infractions of the "articles of war" and of all the civil and criminal affairs of the tribe as well. there was no appeal from its judgments and its sentences were summarily executed. an anecdote will illustrate something of its practice: in the campaign of , after the affair at little big horn, grey eagle, a hunkpapa headman of good family and with a good military record, was charged with stealing a horse from another warrior of the sioux forces. he denied the charge but the property was in his possession and he could not satisfactorily explain his connection with it. he was placed upon trial, witnesses summoned and he was convicted of the theft and sentenced to be whipped, a punishment most befitting the mean estate of a squaw. the sentence was executed in full view of the entire camp. grey eagle continued in the campaign, fighting valiantly at every opportunity, but he was filled with an intense desire for revenge against the court and particularly against sitting bull, a plebian who had compelled recognition from the aristocrats, and whom the convict believed to be especially responsible for his humiliation. though not apropos to this discussion it may be of interest if i shall add that after the lapse of fourteen years, one december morning in when a party of native policemen, inspired very largely by the aristocratic hatred for the presumptuous plebian, came down upon the home of sitting bull and effected his arrest and were taking him away through an excited throng of his friends, the voice of grey eagle, from out in the darkness shouted: "sitting bull is escaping, shoot him, shoot him!" whereupon began the outbreak which within the moment resulted in the death of the old medicine man and seventeen of the police and indians.[ ] it, too, may be of further interest to relate that at the present time grey eagle is the chief justice of the native court at bullhead station, south dakota. [ ] related by miss mary c. collins, april, . among the duties of this court was to determine the limits of each day's march when out upon a campaign, and to regulate the camping places. this was an important function, for the army subsisted off the country and unless the utmost care was exercised "the base of supplies" would be frightened away and the band subjected to starvation. a court very similar to the military court was likewise organized for each great hunting expedition and given absolute control of the general movement, but this hunting court did not interfere with the ordinary jurisdiction of the civil court in matters of personal disputes, personal injuries and the like. in , general henry h. sibley, of minnesota, proposed to the indians residing about his home at mendota that they go down to the "neutral strip" in northern iowa for a long hunt. the sioux were agreeable, and to get the matter in form sibley made a feast to which all of the natives were invited. after eating and smoking several hundred painted sticks were produced and were offered for the acceptance of each grown warrior. it was understood that whoever voluntarily accepted one of these sticks was solemnly bound to be of the hunting party under penalty of punishment by the soldiers if he failed. about one hundred and fifty men accepted. these men then detached themselves from the main body and after consultation selected ten of the bravest and most influential of the young men to act as members of the hunting court. these justices were called soldiers. every member bound himself to obey all rules made by the court. a time was then fixed for the start. at the appointed time and place every one appeared but one man who lived twelve miles distant. five of the court at once started out to round him up. in a few hours they returned with the recalcitrant and his family, and with his belongings packed upon his horses. he was duly penitent and not subjected to punishment, though he was severely threatened in case he again failed. general sibley thus tells the story.[ ] "we," sibley and his white friends, "became subject to the control of the soldiers. at the close of each day the limits of the following day's hunt were announced by the soldiers, designated by a stream, grove, or other natural object. this limit was ordinarily about ten miles ahead of the proposed camping place and the soldiers each morning went forward and stationed themselves along the line to detect and punish any who attempted to pass it. the penalty attached to any violation of the rules of the camp was discretionary with the soldiers. in aggravated cases they would thresh the offender unmercifully. sometimes they would cut the clothing of the man or woman entirely to pieces, slit down the lodge with their knives, break kettles and do other damage. i was made the victim on one occasion by venturing near the prohibited boundary. a soldier hid himself in the long grass until i approached sufficiently near when he sprang from his concealment and giving the soldiers' whoop rushed upon me. he seized my fine double barreled gun and raised it in the air as if with the intention of dashing it to the ground. i reminded him that guns were not to be broken, because they could be neither repaired or replaced. he handed me back the gun and then snatched my fur cap from my head, ordering me back to camp, where he said he would cut up my lodge in the evening. i had to ride ten miles bareheaded on a cold winter day, but to resist a soldier while in the discharge of duty is considered disgraceful in the extreme. when i reached the lodge i told faribault of the predicament in which i was placed. we concluded the best policy, would be to prepare a feast to mollify them. we got together all the best things we could muster and when the soldiers arrived in the evening we went out and invited them to a feast in our lodge. the temptation was too strong to be resisted." they responded, ate their fill, smoked and forgave the "contempt of court," which indicates that the judiciary, even in that primitive time, was not wholly incorruptible. [ ] minnesota historical collections, vol. iii. * * * * * the modern sioux courts, organized under the authority of federal law and in accordance with the rules of the indian department, are perhaps of more interest to lawyers than the courts of the primitive tribes. the modern courts were first proposed by general william s. harney, in and were provided for in the treaty made at port pierre in march of that year, which unfortunately was not ratified by the senate.[ ] it can scarcely be doubted that had harney's scheme for making the sioux responsible to the government for the conduct of their own people been adopted, much bloodshed and treasure would have been saved. [ ] this treaty was not ratified because of the large expenditure which would be demanded to uniform and subsist the police force. afterwards we spent in a single year for the subjugation of the sioux sufficient money to subsist the police for a century. it was not until after the red cloud war ended in that the courts for indian offenses, equipped by the indian themselves, began to be tried at some of the agencies in a small way. the sissetons and santees were first to give them a trial and eventually they were supplied to all the reservations except the rosebud, which, for some reason of which i have been unable to secure information, has never had them. the following general rules governing courts of indian offenses pursuant to the statute have been adopted by the indian department:[ ] [ ] rules and regulations of the indian office governing indian reservations. letter of hon. john r. brennan, agent at pine ridge, april, . first: when authorized by the department there shall be established at each agency a tribunal consisting ordinarily of three indians, to be known as "the court of indian offenses," and the members of said court shall each be styled "judge of the court of indian offenses." agents may select from among the members of the tribe persons of intelligence and good moral character and integrity and recommend them to the indian office for appointment as judges; provided, however, that no person shall be eligible to such an appointment who is a polygamist. second: the court of indian offenses shall hold at least two regular sessions in each and every month, the time and place for holding said sessions to be agreed upon by the judges, or a majority of them, and approved by the agent; and special sessions of the court may be held when requested by three reputable members of the tribe and approved by the agent. third: the court shall hear and pass judgment upon all such questions as may be presented to it for consideration by the agent, or by his approval, and shall have original jurisdiction over all "indian offenses" designated as such by rules , , , and of these rules. the judgment of the court may be by two judges; and that the several orders of the court may be carried into full effect, the agent is hereby authorized and empowered to compel the attendance of witnesses at any session of the court, and to enforce, with the aid of the police, if necessary, all orders that may be passed by the court or a majority thereof; but all orders, decrees, or judgments of the court shall be subject to approval or disapproval by the agent, and an appeal to and final revision by the indian office; _provided_, that when an appeal is taken to the indian office, the appellant shall furnish security satisfactory to the court, and approved by the agent, for good and peaceful behavior pending final decision. fourth: the "sun dance," and all other similar dances and so-called religious ceremonies, shall be considered "indian offenses" and any indian found guilty of being a participant in one or more of these offenses shall, for the first offense committed, be punished by withholding from him his rations for a period not exceeding ten days; and if found guilty of any subsequent offense under this rule, shall be punished by withholding his rations for a period of not less than fifteen days nor more than thirty days, or by incarceration in the agency prison for a period not exceeding thirty days. fifth: any plural marriage hereafter contracted or entered into by any member of an indian tribe under the supervision of a united states indian agent shall be considered an "indian offense" cognizable by the court of indian offenses; and upon trial and conviction thereof by said court the offender shall pay a fine of not less than twenty dollars, or work at hard labor for a period of twenty days, or both, at the discretion of the court, the proceeds thereof to be devoted to the benefit of the tribe to which the offender may at the time belong; and so long as the indian shall continue in this unlawful relation he shall forfeit all right to receive rations from the government. and whenever it shall be proven to the satisfaction of the court that any member of the tribe fails, without proper cause, to support his wife and children, no rations shall be issued to him until such time as satisfactory assurance is given to the court, approved by the agent, that the offender will provide his family to the best of his ability. sixth: the usual practices of so-called "medicine men" shall be considered an "indian offense" cognizable by the court of indian offenses, and whenever it shall be proven to the satisfaction of the court that the influence of a so-called "medicine man" operates as a hindrance to civilization of a tribe, or that said "medicine man" resorts to any artifice or device to keep the indians under his influence, or shall adopt any means to prevent the attendance of children at the agency schools, or shall use any of the arts of the conjurer to prevent the indians from abandoning their heathenish rites and customs, he shall be adjudged guilty of an "indian offense," and upon conviction of any one or more of these specified practices, or any other, in the opinion of the court, of an equally anti-progressive nature shall be confined in the agency guardhouse for a term not less than ten days, or until such time as he shall produce evidence satisfactory to the court, and approved by the agent, that he will forever abandon all practices styled "indian offenses" under this rule. seventh: any indian who shall wilfully destroy, or with intent to steal or destroy, shall take and carry away any property of any value or description, being the property free from tribal interference, of any other indian or indians, shall, without reference to the value thereof, be deemed guilty of an "indian offense," and, upon trial and conviction thereof, by the court of "indian offenses," shall be compelled to return the stolen property to the proper owner, or, in case the property shall have been lost or destroyed, the estimated full value thereof, and in any event the party or parties so found guilty shall be confined in the agency guardhouse for a term not exceeding thirty days; and it shall not be considered a sufficient or satisfactory answer to any of the offenses set forth in this rule that the party charged was at the time a "mourner," and thereby justified in taking or destroying the property in accordance with the customs or rites of the tribe. eighth: any indian or mixed blood who shall pay or offer to pay any money or other valuable consideration to the friends or relatives of any indian girl or woman, for the purpose of living or cohabiting with said girl or woman, shall be deemed guilty of an "indian offense," and upon conviction thereof shall forfeit all right to government rations for a period at the discretion of the agent, or be imprisoned in the agency guardhouse for a period not exceeding sixty days; and any indian or mixed blood who shall receive or offer to receive any consideration for the purposes hereinbefore specified shall be punished in a similar manner as provided for the party paying or offering to pay the said consideration; and if any white man shall be found guilty of any of the offenses herein mentioned he shall be immediately removed from the reservation and not allowed to return thereto. ninth: in addition to the "offenses" hereinbefore enumerated, the court of "indian offenses" shall also have jurisdiction (subject to the provisions of rule ) of misdemeanors committed by indians belonging to the reservation, and of civil suits where indians are parties thereto; and any indian who shall be found intoxicated, or who shall sell, exchange, give, barter or dispose of any spirituous, vinous, or fermented liquors to any other indian, or who shall introduce or attempt to introduce under any pretense whatever any spirituous, vinous, or fermented liquors on the reservation, shall be punishable by imprisonment for not less than thirty days nor more than ninety days or by withholding of government rations, therefrom, at the discretion of the court and approval of the agent. the civil jurisdiction of such court shall be the same as that of a justice of the peace in the state or territory where such court is located, and the practice in such civil cases shall conform as nearly as practicable to the rules governing the practice of justices of the peace in such state or territory, and it shall also be the duty of the court to instruct, advise and inform either or both parties to any suit in regard to the requirements of these rules. under these rules the courts are organized and hold their sittings at such times and places as will be most convenient for the people, as for illustration, upon the cheyenne river reservation one judge sits at each substation at each semi-monthly ration issue, and if for any reason a party is dissatisfied with his decision, he has a right to appeal his case to the entire bench which sits for the purpose at the agency at regular intervals[ ]. [ ] letter of prof. c. w. rastall, superintendent at cheyenne river, april, . persons convicted of such offenses as come within the jurisdiction of the court are committed to the guard-house for a stated period, and are required to work in keeping up the grounds about the agency or substation, as the case may be. they make very little trouble and rarely does one attempt to escape, though they work without guard.[ ] [ ] letter of t. w. lane, agent at crow creek, april, . the indian people generally have great respect for the judges of their courts and the latter show much wisdom and discretion in their decisions, though they do not always place the white man's estimate upon the relative enormity of offenses. i was present at a session of the cheyenne river court in , when two parties accused with crime were brought before it. one was charged with stealing a picket pin of the value of thirteen cents and he got thirty days in the guard-house, while the other, convicted of a rape, got ten days. formerly the judges were not compensated, but now they receive a nominal salary,--from five to ten dollars per month,--and their board while sitting. it is regarded as a great distinction to be chosen to the bench and the courts administer the law, as they understand it, with dignity and firmness.[ ] there are no lawyers upon the reservations but a friend may appear for a party to an action, or one accused of an offense and the trials are conducted with much formality and the pleas are frequently shrewd and eloquent. every indian is an orator by nature, and the courts afford the best modern opportunities to display their gifts. [ ] letter of major brennan. the police force upon all of the reservations is composed of the natives and they are highly efficient and render great assistance to the courts in preserving the peace and in bringing offenders to justice. it is a point of honor for a sioux policeman to do his whole duty regardless of obstacle and neither kin nor friend can expect leniency if he stands in the way of duty, and this is equally true of the courts. it is not an infrequent thing for the judge to try his son or near relative and in such cases the accused is sure to get the limit of the law.[ ] [ ] interview with solomon two stars, hereditary chief of sissetons, august, . monthly south dakotan, december, . without exception the indian authorities commend the native courts and policemen for fidelity and effective administration of justice. footnotes [ ] most writers upon indian life have noted the existence of these courts. since undertaking this paper, i have consulted hump, one bull, wakutemani and simon kirk, all intelligent sioux and, save as otherwise noted, they are my authorities for the statements herein contained. [ ] miss mary c. collins, for thirty-three years missionary among the tetons, especially the hunkpapa and blackfoot bands. [ ] letter of dr. thomas l. riggs, to writer, june, . [ ] interview with joseph laframboise of veblen, a sisseton, at sioux falls, in october, . [ ] flandreau's minnesota. [ ] journal of lewis and clark september th and th, . [ ] related by miss mary c. collins, april, . [ ] minnesota historical collections, vol. iii. [ ] this treaty was not ratified because of the large expenditure which would be demanded to uniform and subsist the police force. afterwards we spent in a single year for the subjugation of the sioux sufficient money to subsist the police for a century. [ ] rules and regulations of the indian office governing indian reservations. letter of hon. john r. brennan, agent at pine ridge, april, . [ ] letter of prof. c. w. rastall, superintendent at cheyenne river, april, . [ ] letter of t. w. lane, agent at crow creek, april, . [ ] letter of major brennan. [ ] interview with solomon two stars, hereditary chief of sissetons, august, . monthly south dakotan, december, . none generously made available by the internet archive/american libraries.) "laramie;" or, the queen of bedlam. a story of the sioux war of . by captain charles king, u.s.a., author of "the colonel's daughter," "marion's faith," "the deserter," "from the ranks," etc. philadelphia: j. b. lippincott company. . copyright, , by j. b. lippincott company. "laramie" or, the queen of bedlam. a story of frontier army life. i. the snow had gone from all the foot-hills and had long since disappeared in the broad river bottom. it was fast going from the neighboring mountains, too--both the streams told plainly of that, for while the platte rolled along in great, swift surges under the engineer bridge, its smaller tributary--the "larmie," as the soldiers called it--came brawling and foaming down its stony bed and sweeping around the back of the fort with a wild vehemence that made some of the denizens of the south end decidedly nervous. the rear windows of the commanding officer's house looked out upon a rushing torrent, and where the surgeon lived, at the south-west angle, the waters lashed against the shabby old board fence that had been built in by-gone days, partly to keep the children and chickens from tumbling into the stream when the water was high, partly to keep out marauding coyotes when the water was low. south and west the bare, gray-brown slopes shut out the horizon and limited the view. eastward lay the broad, open valley beyond the confluence of the streams,--bare and level along the crumbling banks, bare and rolling along the line of the foot-hills. northward the same brown ridges, were tumbled up like a mammoth wave a mile or so beyond the river, while between the northern limits of the garrison proper and the banks of the larger stream there lay a level "flat," patched here and there with underbrush, and streaked by a winding tangle of hoof- and wheel-tracks that crossed and re-crossed each other, yet led, one and all, to the distant bridge that spanned the stream, and thence bore away northward like the tines of a pitchfork, the one to the right going over the hills a three days' march to the indian agencies up along the "wakpa schicha," the other leading more to the west around a rugged shoulder of bluff, and then stretching away due north for the head-waters of the niobrara and the shelter of the jagged flanks of rawhide butte. only in shadowy clusters up and down the stream was there anywhere sign of timber. foliage, of course, there was none. cottonwood and willow in favored nooks along the platte were just beginning to shoot forth their tiny pea-green tendrils in answer to the caressing touch of the may-day sunshine. april had been a month of storm and bluster and huge, wanton wastes of snow, whirling and drifting down from the bleak range that veiled the valley of the laramie from the rays of the westering sun; and any one who chose to stroll out from the fort and climb the gentle slope to the bluffs on that side, and to stand by the rude scaffolding whereon were bleaching the bones of some dakota brave, could easily see the gleaming, glistening sides of the grand old peak, fully forty miles away,--all one sheen of frosty white that still defied the melting rays. somebody was up there this very afternoon,--two somebodies. their figures were blacked in silhouette against the sky close by the indian scaffolding; but even at the distance one could see they were not indian mourners. that was not a blanket which the tall, slender shape had just thrown about the slighter form. mrs. miller, the major's wife, who happened to be crossing the parade at the moment, knew very well that it was an officer's cape, and that randall mclean had carefully wrapped it about nellie bayard lest the keen wind from the west, blowing freely over the ridges, should chill the young girl after her long spin across the prairie and up the heights. a good-hearted woman was mrs. miller, and very much did she like the doctor's sweet and pretty daughter, very much better than she fancied the doctor himself, although, had she been pressed for a reason for her distrust of the senior medical attendant of the garrison, mrs. miller might have found it hard to give satisfactory answer. he was a widower, and "that made him interesting to some people," was her analysis of the situation. she really knew nothing more detrimental to his character, and yet she wished he had not lost his wife, and her wishes on this point were not entirely because of elinor's motherless state. it was the first year the girl had spent in garrison since the death of that loving mother nearly a decade before. there were not lacking hearts full of sympathy and affection for the weeping little maiden when that sore affliction befell her. she had been taken to her mother's old home, reared and educated, and possibly over-indulged there, and sometimes gladdened by visits from her handsome and distinguished father. a marked man in his profession was dr. bayard, one of the "swells" of the medical corps of the army, and rapturously had he been loved by the beautiful and delicate woman whose heart he had won, somewhat to the sorrow of her people. they did not like the army, and liked it still less in the long years of separation that followed. bayard was a man who in his earlier service had secured many a pleasant detail, and had been a society leader at old point comfort, and newport, and boston harbor, and now, in his advancing years and under an administration with which he had lost influence, he was taking his turn at frontier service, and heartily damning the fates that had landed him at laramie. his dead wife's father was a man whose dictum was law in the political party in power. the doctor appealed to him to urge the secretary of war to revoke the orders which consigned him to the isolation of a wyoming post, but the old gentleman had heard more than one account of his widowed son-in-law's propensities and peccadilloes. it was his conviction that newport was not the place for handsome dr. bayard; he rather delighted in the news that the doctor promptly sent him; but, though a power in politics, he was in some things no politician, for, when his son-in-law begged him to use his influence in his behalf, the old gentleman said no,--and told him why. that gloomy november when dr. bayard left for the west he took his revenge on the old people, for he took his daughter with him. it was a cruel, an almost savage blow, and one that was utterly unlooked for. fond as he had been of elinor's mother, and proud as he was of his pretty child, the doctor had been content to spend only occasional holidays with her. every few months he came to visit them, or had her run down to new york for a brief tour among the shops, the theatres, and the picture-galleries. she was enthusiastically devoted to him, and thought no man on earth so grand, so handsome, so accomplished. she believed herself the most enviable of daughters as the child of so fond and indulgent a father. she gloried in the pride which he manifested in her success at school, in her budding beauty and graceful ways. she welcomed his coming with infinite delight, and was ever ready to drop any other project when papa's brief letters and telegrams summoned her to the city. whatever their feeling toward the doctor, her grand-parents had never betrayed them to her or sought to undermine--or rather undeceive--her loyal devotion; but never had it occurred to them as a possibility that he would assert his paternal claim and bear away with him the idol of their hearts, the image of the cherished daughter he had won from them so many years before. proud old judge and senator as he was, the grandfather had never been so sore stricken. he could not plead, could not humble himself to unbend and ask for mercy. for good and sufficient cause he had denied his son-in-law the boon that had been so confidently demanded, and in his chagrin and exasperation dr. bayard had taken his revenge. it was too late now to prepare their little elinor for characteristics of which she had never dreamed, too late to warn her that her superb father was not the hero her fancy painted. in utter consternation, in wretchedness of spirit, the old couple saw her borne away, tearful at leaving them, yet blissful at being with papa, and going once more to the army, and they could only pray heaven to guard her and to comfort them. but, if dr. bayard was incensed at being ordered to so distant a station as laramie, in the first place, his discontent was greatly augmented with the coming of the new year. it was a crowded post when he and elinor arrived in the early winter, but long before the snows had begun to disappear all the cavalry, and all but two companies of infantry there on duty, were ordered northward into the sioux country, and his assistant was taken with the field column, leaving to the older man the unwelcome task of caring for the families of all the absentees as well as for the few men in the hospital. the sight of dr. bayard, dignified, handsome, elegant in dress and manner, tramping about in the deep snow around the laundresses' quarters was one that afforded rather too much malicious delight to a few of the denizens of the club-room at the store; but the contemplation of his own misfortunes was beginning to bring the doctor himself to a state of mind still less justifiable. all his life he had shunned the contemplation of poverty and distress. he was now for the first time seeing sickness and suffering in surroundings that had nothing of refinement, and he shrank, like the sensitive and selfish creature that he was, from such contamination. it was hard news for laramie when the telegraph flashed the tidings of the savage fight up among the snows in the powder river country, but it was comfort to dr. bayard. he had begged for an assistant to replace the young surgeon who had been taken to the front, and his request was declined on the ground that the size of the present garrison did not warrant the detail of an additional medical officer. bayard ground his teeth, and swore, when the paper came back to him, "respectfully transmitted with attention invited to the endorsement of the medical director,--which is approved." he could have testified under oath now, so strong was his conviction, that his father-in-law, the surgeon-general of the army, and the medical director of the department were all in league to annoy and humiliate him to the verge of distraction--or resignation from the service. but the fight with crazy horse's band of sioux brought unexpected aid and comfort to the doctor in greatly adding to his responsibilities; a large number of wounded and frozen soldiers were being brought in as fast as ambulance and _travois_ could haul them, and now he was shrewd enough to know that an assistant would have to be sent, and he did not even ask. the young doctor who came back with the wounded was himself so badly frozen when only two days' march away that he could be of no further aid. bayard went forward through the snow-drifts up the platte to meet his new patients, saw them safely housed in hospital, and gave himself up to the devoted efforts in their behalf. the moment the assistant arrived he was given instructions to take entire charge of the soldiers' families and the "hangers on" of the post. and now the st of may was come; many of the wounded were well enough to be hobbling around the fort in search of air and sunshine; many additional troops had passed laramie on their way up to the front and many more were expected, but there still remained only the two infantry companies to "hold the fort." at the earliest intimation of trouble there had come back from the east, where he had been spending the first long leave he had enjoyed in some years of service, a stalwart young lieutenant by the name of mclean. border warfare had no more charm for him than it had for any other soldier who remembered that it was one in which the indian had everything to win and nothing to lose. he had seen not a little of it, with hard marching, scouting, and suffering, through winter's cold and summer's heat, in more than one campaign in the recent past. it was hard to give up the leave, but harder to have his regiment take the field without him. it was with a sense of having been defrauded in some measure, therefore, that he found himself retained at the fort, simply because his own company happened to be kept back on guard. the column had gone when he succeeded in reaching the post, and his chagrin was bitter when he found that, so far from following and overtaking them on the trail to the big horn, he was ordered to assume command of his company in the place of captain bruce, who, though present at the fort, was rapidly breaking down with rheumatic trouble that confined him to his quarters. mclean went to the major commanding, he also wrote to his colonel and telegraphed to the adjutant, but all to no purpose. there must be an officer with each company, even though it be only a post-guard, and it was his ill-luck to have to be the man. and yet, three weeks after his return, mr. mclean was by no means the disgusted and unhappy subaltern he declared himself, and it was a fact patent to all the garrison that nellie bayard was the source of comfort which reconciled him to the situation. the fort was crowded with officers' families at the time. a large force had been maintained here during the winter, and when the troops took the field in march the ladies and children remained,--a sacred charge for major miller and his two companies of "foot." not only was this the case, but such was the threatening and truculent bearing of all the sioux and cheyenne indians remaining at the agency on white river to the north-east, that a few of the officers on duty at fort robinson (the post established there to overlook and overawe (?) the savages) had sent their families back to laramie under escort, and those gentle refugees were received and housed and welcomed with a hospitality and warmth that one never sees outside the army. every set of officers' quarters, therefore, was crowded to its full capacity, and a thing that never before had happened in the chronicles of the old frontier post was now a matter of course. even "bedlam," the ramshackle, two-story frame rookery, once sacred to the bachelor element, had now two families quartered therein, and one of these comprised the wife, maiden sister, and three children of captain forrest, of the cavalry,--"refugees from robinson." for several days after their arrival they had been housed under major miller's roof,--all the other quarters, except dr. bayard's, being crowded,--and nellie bayard had begged her father to invite mrs., miss, and the little forrests to make his house their home. the doctor willingly accorded her permission to invite miss forrest, but drew the line at her unattractive sister-in-law and the more than unattractive trio of youngsters. before she had known miss forrest three days, however, nellie bayard felt less eagerness to ask her to be her guest, and mrs. miller, as kind and generous a soul as ever lived, had gone so far as to say to her, "don't." and yet it seemed so unkind, so utterly lacking in hospitality or courtesy. after his second call at the commanding officer's, and a sprightly chat with this beaming, bright-eyed, vivacious young woman, dr. bayard had rather pointedly inquired,-- "nellie, dear, i thought you were to invite miss forrest to pay you a visit; have you done so?" "no, papa," was the hesitating answer. "i did mean to--but--don't you expect dr. and mrs. graham early next week? you know you'll have to ask them." "oh, i know that, child, but the house is big. there are two spare rooms, and even if we had to take in more, you two might share your room awhile, might you not?" "we might, papa dear; but--i'm afraid i don't like her. that is, she doesn't attract me as she did at first. i thought her charming then." "tut, tut, tut! why, what on earth's the matter with my little woman?" asked the doctor, bending down over her as they were walking home. "it isn't like you, nell, to be censorious. what's she been doing?--making eyes at young mclean?" he might have judged better than that, had he reflected an instant. he never yet had thought of his daughter except as a mere child, and he did not mean for an instant to intimate that her growing interest in the young lieutenant was anything more than a "school-girl" fancy. she was old enough, however, to take his thoughtless speech _au sérieux_, and it hurt her. "papa!" was her one, indignant word of remonstrance. she would not even defend herself against such accusation. "i know!--i understand--i didn't mean it except as the merest joke, my child," he hurriedly interposed. "i thought you'd laugh at the idea." but she would not speak of it, and he quickly sought to change the subject, never even asking other reason for her apparent aversion to miss forrest. it was true that the speedy coming of dr. and mrs. graham would make it necessary that he should open his doors to an officer of his own corps and profession. for a few days, however, that thoughtless speech seemed to rankle in his gentle daughter's soul. never before had she known hesitancy or embarrassment in her daily, hourly chat with that fondly loved father. now there was a topic that she could not approach. hitherto she used to tell him all about her walks and talks with mr. mclean. that young gentleman, indeed, had accompanied them the evening they went to the major's to call upon the latest arrival among the refugees, but now she shrank from mentioning either miss forrest or him. for several days after that talk it seemed as though she avoided not only the subjects, but the two persons themselves. at least both of them would have sworn to the latter part of the statement, and mclean was at his wit's end to account for it. meantime, there being nowhere else to go, the forrests had moved into "bedlam" in the same hall-way with the family of lieutenant post, also refugees from robinson; but while the posts occupied rooms on the lower floor, the forrests took the four chambers overhead. two young cavalry officers were the occupants up to the outbreak of the campaign, but all their furniture and "traps" were summarily moved over to the quartermaster's storehouse by order of the commanding officer,--and one trip of one wagon did the entire job,--for the emergency was one that called for action, and major miller was a man to meet it. the forrests and the posts, therefore, were now sole occupants of the south end of "bedlam," and lieutenant mclean's two rooms were on the ground-floor of the north end. the hall-ways ran entirely through from east to west, giving on the west side into court-yards separated from each other by a high board fence and completely enclosed by one of similar make. on the east side, fronting the roadway, were broad verandas on both first and second floors, and these were common property of the occupants of both halls. by the rear or west door they could not pass from one hall to the other, on account of the intervening fence. by the east door the veranda on either story formed a convenient thoroughfare. mclean occupied the two rooms on the north side of this hall, and a brother infantryman, also a bachelor, occupied the two above him. the opposite rooms on both floors were the garrison homes of married officers now in the fields with their commands, and their doors were kept locked by the quartermaster. the forrests and posts, with the bedouin-like ease of long experience on the frontier, had established a dining-room in common on the ground-floor of the south end, and the temporary kitchen was knocked up in the back yard. the south division, therefore, contained a lively colony of women and children; the north halls, only empty rooms and two lone bachelors. this very may-day afternoon on which our story opens, as lieutenant mclean and miss bayard started forth on their stroll, miss forrest, with a shawl hugged woman-fashion around her shapely form, was taking a constitutional up and down the upper gallery. she came to the railing and bent down, beaming, smiling, and kissing her hand to them,--and a winsome smile she had,--then, as they passed out along the walk by the old ordnance storehouse, she stood for a time looking after them. that night, just after dusk, when mr. mclean came bounding up the front steps, intent on getting an album from his quarters, and then returning to mrs. miller's, where he was spending the evening, he was surprised to find the lamp extinguished. all was darkness as he opened the front door. so, too, on the second floor there was no light in the hall, and yet he could have sworn that both lamps were burning when he went out at eight o'clock, half an hour before. in his own room, the front one, however, the very opposite was the case. he had turned the lamp low the last thing before starting, and closed the front of his standing desk, turning the key in the lock. he always did these things when leaving his quarters at night. now the hanging lamp was throwing a steady light all over the simple, soldier room, and the desk was wide open. the rear room, his bedchamber, was dark as usual, and his first thought was for his papers. these were in their pigeon-holes, undisturbed. two drawers had been pulled open; one was now half closed, while the other remained with almost its full length, lying, tipped out, upon the shelving desk. it was filled with lynchburg tobacco, a bright-colored, fragrant brand much affected by pipe-smokers at that time, and an idea occurred to him. he stepped out into the hall and shouted up the stairs,-- "hat!--o-o-o, hatton! you been here?" no answer. mr. mclean shook his head in perplexity. he and his comrade, lieutenant hatton, were intimates who smoked many a pipe together out of that same drawer. he had many a time bidden the latter to come in and help himself whenever he wanted to. bachelor doors are always open in the army, and the desk key was generally in the lock. still it was not like hatton to leave things in disorder behind him, even if he were to take mclean at his word. no! it wasn't hatton, unless something very unforeseen had suddenly called him away. stepping quickly back into the room he felt a draught of cool air, and saw that the portière that hung between the two rooms was bulging slightly toward him. instantly he stepped into his bedroom, where all was dark, struck a match, and saw, the moment its flash illumined surrounding objects, that the one door he generally kept locked was now ajar. it led into the hall, and thither strode mclean. up to this instant not a sound had he heard. now, fairly flying up the old, creaky stairs, light as kittens', quick as terriers', yet stealthy, almost noiseless, he distinctly heard slippered footfalls. they whirled at the head of the stairs, and flashed through the hall-way overhead and out on the front veranda, and he, instead of pursuing, stood stone still, rooted to the floor, his heart beating hard, his hands clinching in amaze. what stunned him was the fact that with the footfalls went the swish of dainty silken skirts. ii. it was full ten minutes before mr. mclean reissued from his quarters on his return to the major's house. in the mean time he had searched his desk and summed up his losses. they amounted to mere trifles--a few postage-stamps and perhaps five dollars in currency--which happened to be lying in the drawer above his tobacco receptacle. "lucky i hadn't got my april pay yet!" thought he. there were some handsome sleeve-buttons and a scarf-pin or two in another drawer, but these had not been touched,--the pilferer had been interrupted too soon. some letters and notes that were lying in the lower pigeon-holes had evidently been objects of scrutiny, but were still there--so far as he had time to count. he had left a jolly little gathering at the millers', and he was eager to return; he had left them only at mrs. miller's urgent request that he should bring over his "scrap-book," in which he had a miscellaneous assortment of photographs of army friends and army scenes, of autographs, doggerel rhymes, and newspaper clippings, such as "spelling tests" and "feats in pronunciation," and a quantity of others containing varied and useful information. it was a great standby and resource of his, and had helped to while away many an evening on the frontier. now, mrs. miller had been telling nellie bayard about it, and was eager that she should see it. the major, too, and several ladies present, all united in the request and enjoined upon him to hurry back. as "bedlam" lay but a hundred yards away, there was no reason why he should not have returned in five minutes, but it was fifteen when he reappeared, and was, as became the only young man in the room, the immediate centre of combined question and invective. "what could have kept you so long?" "where on earth have you been?" "were it anybody but mr. mclean, i would say he had gone down to the club-room for a drink," etc. nellie bayard alone was silent. the question that occurred to her was finally asked by mrs. miller,-- "why, mr. mclean, how white you look! have you seen a ghost?" "no," he answered, laughing nervously. "i've seen nothing. it is dark as erebus outside, and i ran into something i couldn't see at all,--something too tangible for a ghost." "who was it or what was it?" "that's what i'm dying to know. i was out in the very middle of the parade, and this something was scurrying over toward gordon's quarters as i was coming here. we ran slap into each other. i sang out, 'halloo! beg pardon,' and began hunting for the book that was knocked out from under my arm, and this figure just whizzed right on,--never answered at all." "odd!" said the major. "some one of the men, do you think? been over paying a visit to a sweetheart in some kitchen of the opposite quarters?" "well, no," answered mclean, coloring and hesitating. "it might have been some sweetheart going over to visit the east side and taking a short cut across the parade. it wasn't a man." "oh! that's it, of course," chimed in mrs. brenham at once. "the johnsons have a girl--winnie they call her--who is perpetually gadding about, and i warrant it was she. come! let us see the scrap-book." and so the party returned to the business of the evening and were soon absorbed in the pages of mclean's collection. he had many a question to answer, and was kept from the seat he longed to take, by nellie bayard's side. where three or four women are gathered together over an album of photographs or a scrap-book of which he is the owner, no man need hope to escape for so much as an instant. yet she was watching him and wondering at what she saw,--the effort it cost him to pay attention to their simplest question--the evident distraction that had seized upon him. by and by tattoo sounded. the major went out with mclean to receive the reports, and when they returned mr. hatton came too. "where have you been, mr. hatton?" asked mrs. miller. "we've been looking for you all the evening, and wouldn't have a bite or a glass of wine until you came in." "over at the gordons'. they are having a little gathering too, mostly of the refugees,--regular hen convention. i was the only man there for over an hour." "who all were there?" inquired the hostess--her southern birth and her woman's interest in the goings-on of the garrison manifesting themselves at one and the same time. "oh, about a dozen, all told," answered mr. hatton. "mrs. bruce and jeannie, mrs. forrest, mrs. post, the gordon girls, mrs. wells, and finally miss forrest. the little parlor was packed like a ration-can by nine o'clock, and i was glad to slip away at first call." "a likely statement in view of the fact that jeannie bruce was there." "fact, though!" answered hatton, with a knowing look on his handsome face. he did not want to say it was because jeannie bruce went home at "first call" and that he escorted her. mclean would be sure to understand that point, however, thought mr. hatton to himself, and to obviate the possibility of his mischievously suggesting that solution of the matter it might be well to tip him a wink. looking around in search of his chum, mr. hatton was surprised at the odd and wretched expression on mclean's face. the tall young subaltern had seated himself at last by nellie bayard's side, but instead of devoting himself to her, as was to have been expected, he was staring with white face at hatton and drinking in every word. "why, what's the matter, old man? you look all struck of a heap!" exclaimed hatton, in genuine concern. "mr. mclean encountered a spook on his way over here," laughed the major, seeing that mclean, in embarrassment, knew not how to reply. "he ran afoul of a flying dutchwoman out on the parade in the dark, and was mystified because she would not stop and chat with him." "what nonsense, major!" sharply interposed his better half. "you know we settled it long ago that that must have been the johnsons' winnie on one of her gad-abouts. why do you add to the mischief?" "hm!" responded her lord in a broad grin. "coming from a woman, that is a stinger. can't a fellow have a little fun at mclean's expense without being accused of scattering scandal?" "you are only too ready to accuse one of us of starting malicious stories," replied his wife, with honest indignation. "it might be as well for you to consider the possible effect of your own words." "what possible effect--ill effect, that is--could my remark have had even if repeated?" demanded the major in amusement. "well, never you mind now; i'm glad we all understand one another here at any rate," answered mrs. miller, earnestly. "now let us have peace and a truce to the spook story. mrs. taylor, now won't you sing?" "really, mrs. miller, i ought not to stay another moment. i left the nurse in charge of my babies, and i know perfectly well that by this time she is out at the back gate flirting with sergeant murray. indeed, mr. mclean, i do wish you would confine that altogether-too-utterly-attractive young man to the limits of the barracks. he's at our gate morn, noon, and night, and whenever he's there my maggie is there too, and the children might scream themselves hoarse and she never hear. why, i'm a perfect slave! i can't go anywhere. it's just do for those precious babies from dawn till midnight. i might as well have no nurse at all. oh, no, indeed, mrs. miller. i must go this minute. indeed i must. but, mr. hatton, how did it happen that miss forrest only came in late?" "more than i know, mrs. taylor. she said she was unable to come earlier on account of letters or something. i didn't pay much attention. you see there were six women around me already. i've never known the bliss of being an undoubted belle until this spring." "then i suppose, too, she stopped to dress. you know fanny forrest has such beautiful dresses, mrs. miller, and she's hardly had a chance to show one of them since she got here. what did she wear this evening, mr. hatton?" "'pon my soul, i don't know. it was a dress, of course, blue or green--or something." "yes--something, undoubtedly; but what was it like? did it----?" "the idea of asking me to describe a woman's dress! why, i don't know a poplin from a polonaise, though i suppose there's a distinction of some kind. all i know is that this one shimmered and had things all over it like no. shot or sioux moccasin beads, and it swished and rustled as she walked through the hall and up the stairs." "oh, i know,--that long silk princesse--electric blue--that came from new york last october and----beg pardon. what?" "not you, mrs. taylor. go on!" said mrs. miller, pleasantly. "mr. hatton's servant has just called for him at the door. wants to see him a moment." and hatton left the parlor with the major at his heels. an hour later, after seeing nellie bayard home, and striving in vain to be like his actual self, mr. mclean hurried to his quarters. just as he expected, hatton was standing in front of the open fireplace puffing furiously at a chunky little brierwood pipe. he looked up from under his heavy eyebrows as mclean came in, but said nothing. the occupant of the room filled and lighted his own particular "cutty," and threw himself into an easy chair, first divesting himself of the handsome uniform "blouse" he had worn during the evening, and getting into an easy old shooting-jacket. then through a cloud of fragrant smoke the two men looked silently at each other. it was hatton who spoke first: "well, mac." "what's up, hatton?" "missed anything to-night?" "nothing to speak of," answered mclean, coloring. he had the hatred of his race for the faintest equivocation. "well, i have, and i thought you might have been visited likewise. my bureau and dressing-case have been ransacked and i'm out a good two hundred dollars' worth. "the devil you say!" "have you lost nothing?" "five dollars or so,--as i said, nothing i wanted to mention." "why?" "well--because." "a woman's reason, mac." "how do you know a woman's the reason?" asked mclean, almost fiercely, as he started from the chair. he had only imperfectly heard his friend's muttered words. "i don't!--and that isn't what i said," replied hatton, coolly. "but see here,--now we've got down to it," and he stopped to emit two or three voluminous puffs of smoke from under his thick moustache. "it would appear that the thief went through the next-door premises despite the presence of nurses and servants and children,--and then dropped some of his plunder here. eh?" and he held forth a dainty handkerchief. mclean took it, his hands trembling, and a creeping, chilling sensation running through his fingers. it was of finest fabric, sheer and soft and very simply embroidered. it was without, rather than with, surprise lie found the letters "f. f." in one corner. he raised it, and, not knowing what to say for the moment, sat there inhaling the delicate fragrance that hung about the white folds. "where'd you find it?" he finally asked. "just at the foot of your bureau, mac. it was lying there when i came in, half an hour ago." "then it's mine to dispose of at least," said mclean, as he rose promptly from his chair, stepped quickly to the fireplace, and tossed the dainty toy among the flames. the next instant the last vestige of it was swept from sight, and the two men stood looking quietly into each other's eyes. iii. the compact little post of fort laramie looked hardly big enough to contain its population two days afterward when, under the influence of a warm sunshine and the sweet music of the band, all the women and children seemed to have gathered around the parade. guard-mounting was just over, and the adjutant had ordered the musicians to stop and play a few airs in honor of its being the first morning on which it was warm enough for the men to appear without overcoats and the women without their furs. the little quadrangle, surrounded as it was by quarters and houses of every conceivable pattern except that which was modern and ornamental, was all alive with romping children and with sauntering groups of ladies chatting with the few cavaliers who happened to be available. a small battalion of infantry had marched up from the nearest railway-station at cheyenne, a good hundred miles away, and pitched its tents on the flat to the north of the post, and this brought a few visiting officers into the enclosure; otherwise, except old bruce, there would have been no man to talk to, as hatton and mclean were "marching on" and "marching off" guard respectively, and the surgeon, adjutant, and quartermaster were all engaged in the old head-quarters office with major miller. while many of the ladies were seated in the sunshine on the piazzas, and even "bedlam" was so ornamented, there were several who were strolling up and down the board and gravel walks, and of these fanny forrest was certainly the most striking in appearance. she was tall, stately in carriage, and beautifully formed. her head was carried proudly and her features were regular and fine. "but for that hardness of expression she might be a tearing beauty," was the comment of more than one woman who knew and envied her; but that expression certainly existed and to her constant detriment. all manner of conjectures had been started to account for her somewhat defiant air and that hard, set look that so rarely left her face except when she smiled and strove to please. no one really knew much about her. captain forrest, her brother, was one of the popular men of his regiment, who years before had become enamoured of and _would_ marry the namby-pamby though pretty daughter of the old post chaplain. she happened to be the only young lady in the big garrison of mcpherson, one of those long winters just after the war of the rebellion, and forrest was susceptible. her prettiness had soon faded, and there was no other attraction to eke it out; but her husband was big-hearted and gentle, and he strove hard not to let her see he thought her changed. still, she was a querulous, peevish woman by this time, poor girl, and her numerous olive-branches had been more than a stronger woman could have managed. forrest's house was not the jolliest in the garrison, and he was given to drifting away as a consequence; but the previous summer there came to him news that took him suddenly eastward. he was gone a month, and when he returned he brought his tall, handsome, stylish sister with him, and it was given out that she was to make her home with him henceforth,--unless, as said the gossips, some other man claimed her. some other man did,--two some others, in fact, and "a very pretty quarrel as it stood" was only nipped in the bud by the prompt action of the commanding officer at fort robinson that very winter. two young officers had speedily fallen in love with her, and in so doing had fallen out with each other. it was almost a fight, and would have been but for the colonel commanding; and yet it was all absurd, for she turned both of them adrift. of her past she would not speak, and no one cared to question forrest. she had been living at her uncle's in new york, was all that any one knew, and finally that had to be changed. she had come out with her bronzed and soldierly brother, and was his guest now; it was evident that there was deep affection between them; it was theorized by the ladies at robinson that she had had some unlucky love-affair, and this was the more believed after she threw over the two devotees aforementioned. all manner of that alluring bait which women so well know how to use when inviting confidence was thrown to her from time to time, but she refused it and intimacies of any kind, and only one thing saved her from being ostracized by the garrison sisterhood,--her dresses. "she must have had abundant means at some time," said the ladies, "for her dresses are just lovely, and all her clothes are just the same way, very stylish in make and most expensive in material." no woman could quite break friendship with one who had such a mine of fabulous interest in her three saratogas. nevertheless, all the letters from robinson to laramie, in speaking of her, said she was "worth seeing, but--not attractive." "if anything," wrote one woman, "she is actually repellant in manner to half the ladies in the garrison." this was her status until late that spring, and then came another story,--a queer one, but only mrs. bruce received it, and she showed the letter to her husband, who bade her to burn it and say no word of its contents. ere long another came,--to mrs. miller this time,--and spoke of the odd losses sustained by young officers in the garrison. mr. french, who lived under the same roof with the forrests, had been robbed twice. no clue to the perpetrator. then came the spring outbreak of the sioux, the rush to join sitting bull and crazy horse, the news of the sharp fight late in march, and the situation at robinson became alarming. april brought the refugees to laramie, and here, among others, were the forrests and the posts. and now miss forrest was strolling placidly up and down the walk and entirely monopolizing the attention of a tall, fine-looking soldier who had met her for the first time only the previous evening and was evidently eager to resume his place at her side. it was hardly fair to the other women, and they were not slow to remark upon the fact. "one thing is certain," said mrs. gordon, "if i were nellie bayard i would not want to have her for a step-mother, and the doctor has been simply devoted to her for the last three days." "yes, he seems decidedly smitten, mrs. gordon; but did we not hear that dr. bayard was always doing the devoted to some woman,--a young one preferred?" asked her next-door neighbor, who had just dropped in for a moment's chat. "mrs. miller certainly told me so; it was his reputation in the east, and very possibly he is attracted now by such an undeniably stylish and handsome girl. she can't be so very young, either. look at those lines under her eyes." "yes, and when she turns her head her neck shows it; the throat is getting stringy. here comes the doctor from the office now. i warrant he passes every other woman and goes straight to her." "then it will be 'good-by, mr. mayhew,' to her present escort, i warrant you in return. fanny forrest has no use for subalterns except as fun to pass away the time." "yet she made eyes at mr. mclean all that first day she was at the millers'. i think that is really the reason mrs. miller cannot bear her. she won't speak of her if she can help it. now watch the doctor." there were perhaps half a dozen ladies in the party at the moment, and all eyes were fastened on the tall and distinguished form of dr. bayard as he strode across the parade, his handsome, portly figure showing to excellent advantage in his snug-fitting uniform. they saw him bare his head and bow with courtier-like grace to miss forrest and again to her escort as he stopped and extended his hand. then, after a few words, he again bowed as gracefully as before and passed on in the direction of the hospital. "certainly the most elegant man in manner and bearing we have seen at laramie for i don't know when," said mrs. gordon. "i don't wonder nellie worships him." "she thinks her father simply perfect," was mrs. wells's reply. "i dread to think what it will cost her when disillusion comes, as come it must. why! who is that he is talking with now?" at the north-west corner of the quadrangle, just beyond "bedlam," the doctor had encountered a stoutly-built man who wore an overcoat of handsome beaver fur thrown wide open over the chest in deference to the spring-like mildness of the morning, and who carried a travelling-bag of leather in one hand. after a moment of apparently cordial chat the two men walked rapidly southward along the gravel path, all eyes from all the piazzas upon them as they came, and, passing one or two groups of ladies, entered the gateway at the doctor's quarters, where nellie bayard with "the gordon girls" happened to be seated on the veranda. mrs. gordon and mrs. wells arose from their chairs and gazed across the parade, in their very natural curiosity to see what was going on "over at the doctor's." they saw the stranger raise his cap, and bow low over the hand that nellie extended to him, and then make a bobbing obeisance to each of the gordon girls as he was presented to them. then he took a chair by miss bayard's side, while the servant came out and relieved him of his overcoat and bag, and the gordon girls were seen saying adieu. nellie followed them to the gate, but they evidently felt that the stranger had not come to see them, and that it was time to leave. the ladies on the home piazza awaited their coming with no little impatience, and mrs. gordon was prepared to administer a sharp maternal reproof when they were seen to stop in answer to hails from the groups they passed _en route_. everybody wanted to know who the fur-coated stranger was, and their progress homeward from the south-west angle was, therefore, nothing short of "running the gauntlet" of interrogations. possibly in anticipation of the displeasure awaiting her, the elder maiden of the two strove to "cut across lots" when she came near the south-eastern corner, whereat, facing north, stood the big house of the commanding officer; but mrs. miller was too experienced a hand, and bore down upon the pair in sudden swoop from her piazza to the front gate, and they had to stop and surrender their information. as a consequence, every woman along that side of laramie knew before mesdames gordon and wells that roswell holmes, of chicago, the "wealthy mine-owner and cattle-grower," had just arrived in his own conveyance from cheyenne, and had been invited to put up at the doctor's quarters during his stay at the fort. "think of it!" exclaimed mrs. gordon, "a bachelor, only thirty-eight, and worth a million. no wonder dr. bayard seized him!" "the doctor knew him before, mother," put in her daughter. "nellie wasn't introduced at all. he came right up and told her how glad he was to see her again,--he looked it, too." "they knew him in chicago,--met him there on the way out," said the younger. "i heard the doctor say so. now, look! here come fanny forrest and mr. mayhew, and she wants to know who the stranger is; if she doesn't she's the first person i've met who didn't ask." but miss forrest proved an exception to the rule, so far as questions were concerned, at least. she stopped in front of the gate, looking beamingly up at the group on the piazza. "mrs. gordon," she said, "mr. mayhew has invited me to walk down to the camp of the battalion, and, as i haven't been outside the limits of the post since we came, i should like to go. they are to have inspection in 'field kits' in half an hour. don't you want to come with the girls? he says there are half a dozen young gentlemen down there who are eager to see them----" "oh, mamma, do!" implored both girls in a breath. "why, i hardly know, miss forrest," answered mrs. gordon, hesitatingly. "cannot mrs. forrest go?" "ruth is never ready to go anywhere," answered miss forrest, half laughingly, yet with a certain rueful emphasis. "she is a slave to her babies, and as for celestine, the nurse, she is no help to her whatever." "of course you girls must have a 'matron,'" said mrs. gordon. "how long will you be there, mr. mayhew?" "oh, just about half an hour or so, mrs. gordon. then inspection will be over, and we fellows can all come back with you. it's just for the walk, you know, and the pleasure it will give a raft of second lieutenants." (mr. mayhew was a first lieutenant of one year's standing.) "they'll bless me for bringing them down." "do let the girls go with us, mrs. gordon, and if you are too busy i'll see ruth at once. i can make celestine stay home and look after the children, though she cannot; and here come mr. hatton and mr. mclean. one of them, at least, will be glad to join us," said miss forrest, with the confidence of handsome womanhood. "perhaps both of them. no. they are turning off across the parade. call them, mr. mayhew. let no guilty man escape." obediently lieutenant mayhew shouted to the two young officers who had just come forth from the presence of the major commanding. both were in undress uniform and sword-belts; both had caught sight of the tall girl at the gordons' gate at the same instant, and, had any one disposed to be critical been looking on, that somebody would have been justified in saying they "sheered off" the very next instant so as not to pass her by within speaking distance. mrs. miller, sitting where she could see the whole affair, was struck by the sudden change in their line of direction, and watched them in no little curiosity as they halted in recognition of mayhew's call. "what is it, mayhew?" sung out hatton. "come over here a minute, you and mclean. i have a scheme to unfold." "can't; i'm officer of the day." "well, you come, mclean. miss forrest wants to speak with you." "mac, there's no way out of it," growled hatton between his set teeth; "you've got to go." "be at the house in ten minutes, then. i'll join you there," said mclean, glancing over his shoulders at his comrade as he started across the springy turf to obey the summons. "what is it, miss forrest?" he inquired. "good-morning mrs. gordon--mrs. wells--everybody," he continued, as, with forage-cap in hand, he made his obeisance to the various ladies of the party. "i want you to prove how we bedlamites stand by one another by placing yourself under my orders for a whole hour. you have no duty or engagement, have you?" mclean would have given--he knew not what--to be able to say he had; but this _rencontre_ was something utterly unlooked for. he could easily have pleaded letters, or company duty, but evasion was a trick he could not brook. "i have none," he quietly answered. "then, for the honor of bedlam, offer your services to these young ladies and be their escort down to camp, where they are dying to go." "why, fanny forrest! how dare you?" gasped kate gordon, the elder. "indeed, miss forrest, i will not have a detailed escort," indignantly protested jeannie, the younger. "what illimitable effrontery!" was the muttered comment of mrs. wells, while poor mrs. gordon hardly knew what to say or do in her amaze and annoyance. mclean himself had flushed crimson under the combined influence of embarrassment and the recollection of the long talk he and hatton had had but two nights before. mayhew, too, could hardly control his surprise, but he declared afterward, when the matter came up for comment down at camp, that he would "give a heap to have that man mclean's self-possession," for with hardly an instant's delay the latter's voice was heard above the voluble protests of the two young ladies,--cordial, kindly, even entreating. "i should like it, of all things. i want to run down and see the first in the new field rig. do let the girls go with me, mrs. gordon. come, miss kate; come, miss jeannie. i'll leave my sword at my quarters as we go." "didn't i tell you, mr. mayhew?" said miss forrest, with heightened color and a confident smile as she took his arm. "it is something to be a queen, if it's only the queen of bedlam." and though, rather than create a scene, mrs. gordon and her daughters joined the party, and mrs. wells and miss bruce decided to go, it was noticed then and referred to afterward that mr. mclean never so much as looked at miss forrest or noticed her in any way at the time of this occurrence. it was hardly night before the story had gone all over the garrison, and added to miss forrest's growing unpopularity; and it was kind-hearted mrs. miller herself who exclaimed, on hearing the details in the inevitably exaggerated form in which all such narrative must travel, "i declare! the title she has assumed seems to fit her,--queen of bedlam, indeed!" iv. the doctor was giving a little dinner in honor of his friend mr. holmes. two days now had that gentleman been in garrison, where his advent had created more of a flutter than the coming of an inspector-general. he had a large cattle-range farther to the south, beyond the chugwater and comparatively removed from the scene of indian hostility and depredation; but such had become the laxity of discipline on the part of the bureau officials, or such was their dread of their turbulent charges at the reservations, that, from time to time, marauding parties of young warriors had been raiding from the agencies during the month of april, crossing the platte river and dashing down on the outskirts of the great cattle-herds south of scott's bluffs and in the valleys of horsehead and bear creeks. one party had even dared to attack the ranches far up the chugwater valley at the crossing of the cheyenne road; another had ridden all around fort laramie, fording the platte above and below; and several of them had made away with dozens of head of cattle bearing the well-known brand of mr. holmes of chicago. it was to see what could be done toward preventing the recurrence of this sort of thing that brought mr. holmes to laramie. at least he said so, but there were ladies in the garrison who were quick to determine that something worth more to him than a few hundred head of cattle had prompted him to take that dangerous ride up from the railway. "he would never have thought it worth while," said mrs. wells after a day of quiet observation, "had nellie bayard not been here." another thing to give color to this theory was the fact that, yielding to the importunities of major miller and his frequent telegraphic reports of indian dashes on the neighboring ranches, the division commander had ordered a troop of cavalry back from patrol duty around the reservation, and "the grays" had marched in the very night before. a scouting party of an officer and twenty troopers rode forth that morning with orders to look over the chugwater and the intervening country around eagle's nest. if mr. holmes were in a hurry to get back to business, here was excellent opportunity of driving half the way to cheyenne under escort. but mr. holmes, who had been somewhat emphatic in his announcement that he could only stay one day, was apparently well content with his comfortable quarters under the doctor's roof. he might now stay longer, he said, for while up in that part of the country he might just as well look over some mines in the black hills, provided there were a chance of getting thither alive. except for heavily guarded trains, all communication was at an end between the scattered settlements of the hills and the posts along the platte and the union pacific railway. the indians swarmed out from the reservations, attacking everything that appeared along the road, and sometimes capturing the entire "outfit"; after plundering and scalping their victims they built lively fires of the wagons, and cheerfully roasted alive such of their prisoners as had the ill-luck not to be killed in the first place. the road to the black hills, either from sidney or by way of fort laramie, was lined with the ashes of burned wagons, and, in lieu of mile-posts, was staked with little, rude, unpainted crosses, each marking the grave of some victim of this savage warfare; and mr. holmes was quite right in his theory that it would be far safer and pleasanter to stay at laramie until some big party went up to the hills. the doctor was most hospitable in his pressing invitation for him to make his house a home just as long as it might please him. nellie was glad to win her beloved father's praise by doing what she could to make the army homestead attractive to his guest; the guest himself was courteous, well-bred and cordial in manner, readily winning friends all over the garrison; and the only man to whom his protracted visit became a matter of serious disquietude was poor randall mclean. with a lover's intuition he saw that the wealthy chicagoan was deeply interested in sweet nellie bayard, and that her father eagerly favored the suit. up to the hour of mr. holmes's arrival, there was not a day on which the young fellow had not enjoyed a walk or one or more delightful chats with the doctor's pretty daughter. he had no rivals; there were at the moment no other bachelor officers at the post, with the exception of hatton, who, besides having a chivalrous disposition not to cut in where his comrade was interested, was popularly supposed to be the peculiar property of miss janet bruce. now, however, since mr. holmes had taken up his abode under the �sculapian vine and fig-tree, mclean found it simply impossible to see the lady of his love except in general company. the chicago capitalist, despite his thirty-eight years, was rarely out of reach of the little pink ear, and, though courteous and unobtrusive, it was patent to mclean that he meant no other man should charm it with a lover's wooing until his own substantial claims had had full consideration. no matter at what hour the lieutenant called, there was roswell holmes in the parlor; and, when he sought to engage her for a walk, it so happened that papa and mr. holmes had arranged to go calling at that very time, and papa had expressed his wish that she should go too. it began to look very ominous before the end of that second day, and when the evening of the dinner came mr. mclean was decidedly low in his mind. he was not even invited. now there was nothing in this circumstance to which he should have attached any importance whatever. army quarters are small at best, and a dining-room on the frontier big enough to accommodate a dozen people was in those days a decided rarity. the doctor, after consultation with nellie and with the presiding goddess in the kitchen, had decided upon ten as the proper number to be seated at his table. there would then be no crowding, and all might go off without confusion. very proud was the doctor of some precious old family plate and some more modern and even more beautiful china with which he adorned his table on state occasions. he wanted to make an impression on his wealthy guest, and this was an opportunity not to be neglected. he gave much thought, too, to the composition of his party. the commanding officer and his wife must, of course, be invited. captain and mrs. bruce he decided upon because they were people of much travel and, for army folks, remarkably well read and informed. they would reflect credit on his entertainment. the adjutant and his wife were also bidden as being guests who would grace his board. but he did not invite even his own junior and assistant, dr. weeks. "i can explain all that, nellie. he won't mind," he said, "and besides, if holmes can stay till the end of the week, i'll give another and have all the youngsters." she had brightened up at that, for her heart misgave her a little at the thought of her most loyal friends being left out in the cold. then she looked very grave again when his next words were spoken. "and now, dear, we want one more lady to make our party complete, and no one will do as well as miss forrest." poor nellie! she knew not what to say. her father was, of course, cognizant of the growing dislike to that strange girl, and had pooh-poohed some of the stories that had been brought to his ears. there was not a woman in the officers' quarters whom she would not rather have invited, yet from the very first she felt in the depths of her soul that miss forrest would be her father's choice. one timid little suggestion she made in favor of janet bruce, since her parents were to be of the party; but the doctor promptly scouted it. "why, daughter, she's barely seventeen, a girl who would not be in society at all anywhere in civilization;" and with a sigh nellie abandoned the point. "besides," said the doctor as a clincher, "i want this a 'swell' affair; just think how much miss forrest's taste in dress will help out." certainly his judgment was warranted by her appearance the evening of the dinner, when, the last guest to arrive, fanny forrest came rustling down the stairs and into the brightly lighted parlor. it had begun to rain just before sunset, and she had brought celestine with her to hold the umbrella over her while her own jewelled hands gathered those costly skirts about her under the folds of the gossamer that enveloped her from head to feet. the girl, a bright, intelligent mulattress, followed her mistress upstairs to the room set apart for the use of the ladies, and was busy removing her wraps when nellie ran up to inquire if she could be of any assistance. "thank you heartily, nellie," was the cordial answer. "how simply exquisite you look to-night!" and miss forrest's winsome smile was brighter than ever as she bent her head to kiss the reluctant cheek that seemed to pale under her touch. "no, run back to your guests. celestine will put me to rights in a minute, and i'll be down in a jiffy; don't wait." and so nellie returned to the parlor, and in a moment celestine came down and passed out at the front door, and then miss forrest's light footfalls could be heard aloft as the guests grouped themselves about the parlor,--the men in their full-dress uniforms, except, of course, their civilian friend,--the ladies in their most becoming dinner toilet. despite her growing unpopularity every eye was turned (with eagerness on the part of the women and dr. bayard) when miss forrest's silken skirts came sweeping down the stairs. her _entrée_ was a triumph. "thought you said her neck showed her age," whispered the major to his better half. "why, her neck and arms are superb!" a speech that cost him metaphorical salt in his coffee for the next three days. the doctor stepped forward in his most graceful manner to meet and welcome her. captain bruce could not refrain from hobbling up and saying a word of admiration; even mr. holmes fixed his dark eyes upon her in unmistakable approval, and spoke a few courteous words before he turned back to nellie's side; and mrs. miller unlimbered her eye-glasses, mounted them on her prominent nose, gazed long and earnestly at the self-possessed young woman who was the centre of the group, and then looked for sympathy to mrs. bruce--and found it. never in her life had fanny forrest looked better than she did that night. her eyes, her color, her smiles were radiance itself; her mobile lips curved over teeth as white and gleaming as crystalled snow. her bare neck and arms, beautifully moulded, were set off to wonderful advantage by the dress she wore,--a marvellous gown of rich, rare, lustrous black silk, that fell from her rounded hips in sweeping folds that the women could not sufficiently admire, while their eyes gloated over the wealth of gold with which the entire front from the bosom to the very hem of the skirt was heavily embroidered. an aigrette of gold shone in the dark masses of her hair, but not a vestige of gold or gems appeared either at her throat or in her ears. in her jewelled hand she carried a fan of black silk, gold embroidered like her dress, and the tiny slippers that peeped from the hem of her robe were of the same material and embroidered in a miniature of the same pattern. "fort laramie never saw anything handsomer than that toilet," whispered mrs. bruce to the major's wife at the earliest opportunity; and the latter, kind soul, was sufficiently melted by the sight to think of her neighbors and say, "how i wish mrs. jordan and mrs. wells were here to see it!" the dinner went off merrily as chimes a marriage-bell. the doctor was in his element when presiding at a well-appointed table; his cook was one whom he had had at newport and boston harbor, and a very reliable servitor as such characters go; his wines were, some of them, gifts from wealthy and aristocratic patients whom he had managed to serve in the days when the sunshine of official favor illumined his daily life; he had a fund of anecdote and table talk; his guests were responsive and full of appreciation of the entertainment provided for them. nellie, in her shy maidenhood, was a lovely picture at the head of his board; and holmes, who sat at her left, was evidently more impressed than ever. a son-in-law like that, rich, manly, and educated, a leader of affairs in the city where he made his home,--the very thought lent inspiration to the doctor's life. if the judges and the senators of the east had turned their backs upon him, here he could find new power and influence among the active sons of the young and vigorous west. what a pity! what a pity! he thought, that the general commanding the division were not here. he was coming, they all knew, and might be along any day. now, if he had only arrived in time to be one of the guests this bright evening, who can say what the effect might not have been? it must have been just before tattoo--after they had been at the table a full hour, and tongues were loosened by the doctor's good wine, and laughter and jest and merry talk were going round--that mrs. miller, sitting at the doctor's right as became the lady of the commanding officer, was surprised to see the hall-door, which had been closed throughout the evening, swing very slowly a few inches inward. at the same moment the lace curtains that hung about the archway leading into the parlor swayed noiselessly toward her and then settled back to their normal position. presently the major, who was at miss bayard's right, and with his back close to the hall-door, began to fidget and look uneasily about. the doctor was just telling a very good story at the moment and she could not bear to interrupt him, but after the laughter and applause had subsided she came to her husband's rescue. "the major is keenly susceptible to colds, doctor, and i see he is fidgeting a bit. would you mind having that door shut?" "which door, mrs. miller? most assuredly. i thought it was closed. here, robert," he called to his colored servant, "go and see if the front door is shut. the wind sometimes proves too much for these quartermaster's latches," he said, apologetically. "was it shut?" he asked, as robert returned with an injured air as of one who had been sent on a wild-goose chase. "perfectly tight, sir. ain't been open dis evenin' since miss forrest done got yere," was robert's prompt reply. "i sprung de latch myself to keep it from floppin' open as it sometimes does." "all right. never mind. you feel no draft now, do you, major?" "not a particle. it was all fancy, probably." and the laughter and talk began again. later that long-remembered evening, as they sat around a blazing log fire, for the night had been made chilly by the rain, there was much mirth and chatter and gayety. miss forrest developed a new trait to make her envied. she sang with infinite spirit and a great deal of taste. nellie's piano had known no such performer in the western wilderness as the brilliant young woman in the lovely black silk, whose fingers went flashing over the keys, and whose voice came carolling forth in rich and wonderful notes. it was a contralto, or at least a deep mezzo, and the songs she sung were well adapted to its low and feeling tones. mr. holmes stood over her much of the time as she played, and applauded heartily when she had sung. "i did not expect to find such a nightingale in the wilderness," he said. "you were looking for a very different object, were you not?" said she, raising her dark eyes to his in deep scrutiny, then dropping them quickly until the lashes swept her cheek. "possibly," he replied, with calm gravity. "i had several objects in view, but i rejoice in a visit that has enabled me to hear so cultured a vocalist. i wonder no one spoke of your singing before, miss forrest." "cease to wonder, mr. holmes. it is the first time i have seen a piano in six months or more. we had none at robinson, and i would have felt little like singing if there had been one." "may i ask where you studied music?" "you may. it is evident that, like most people i know in civilization, you are surprised to hear of accomplishments of any kind other than shooting and riding in the army." holmes laughed merrily. "you are loyal to the comrades of your adoption, miss forrest, and yet they tell me your frontier life began less than a year ago." "true; but i like the men i've met here, and might like the women if they would let me. as yet, however, we do not seem to agree, thanks to an unfortunate propensity of mine for saying what happens to be uppermost in my mind at the moment; possibly for other good and equally sufficient reasons. you asked where i studied music? mainly in new york and munich." "you have been abroad, then?" "years; as companion to an invalid aunt, thanks to whom i saw very little of foreign countries, and but for whom i would have seen nothing." "you changed the subject abruptly, a moment ago, miss forrest. you were speaking of your relations with the ladies here. forgive me if i refer to it, for i was interested in what you told me. surely a woman as gifted as you are can never lack friends among her own sex. have you never sought to win miss bayard, for instance?" there was a moment's pause. then she looked full up into his face, her fingers rippling over the keys as she spoke. "mr. holmes, has it never occurred to you that in friendship, as in love, a girl of nellie bayard's age would prefer some one much nearer her own years?" he drew slowly back from the piano and stood at his full height. "the doctor is calling us to the dining-room, miss forrest; may i offer my arm?" was his only reply, and she arose and went with him. they found the entire party grouped about the table, which was now decked with a great punch-bowl of beautiful workmanship. a present, the doctor explained with evident pride, from baron wallewski, of the russian legation at washington, whom he had had the honor of pulling through a siege of insomnia two years before. it was more than anything else to display the beauty of this costly gift that he had called them once more around his board, but, since they were there, he would beg them to fill their glasses with a punch of his own composition,--"there's not a headache in a heidelberg tun of it,"--and pledged with them the health of the distinguished donor. a ring came at the front door as robert was standing, tray in hand, at his master's elbow. "say i'm engaged, if any one inquires for me," said bayard, and launched forth into some reminiscence of the days when he and wallewski and bodisco and others of that ilk were at old point comfort for a week together. robert, returning from the front hall, stood in silence, like the well-trained menial he was, until his master finished his narration and the guests had sipped the toast. it was a performance of some minutes' duration, and at last the doctor turned. "who was it?" he said. "mr. mclean, sah." "wanted to see me." "no, sah. the commanding officer, sah. he wouldn't come in; he's standing in the hall yet, sah. said s'cuse him, but 'twas mos' impawtant." major miller instantly set down his punch-glass, and strode out through the parlor into the front hall. it was a season of incessant rumors and alarms, and the party could not forbear listening. "halloo, mclean! what's up?" they heard him say. "a courier just in from the cavalry, sir. they've had a sharp fight over in the chug valley, north of hunton's. two men killed and lieutenant blunt wounded. the indians went by way of eagle's nest, and will try to recross the platte below us. captain terry is saddling up the grays now, and sent me to tell you. may i go with him, sir?" "i'll be down at once. certainly, you may go. terry has no lieutenant for duty otherwise." the major reappeared an instant in the parlor, whither by this time all the party had hastily moved uttering exclamations of dismay and anxiety, for blunt was a young officer beloved by every one. "you'll excuse me, doctor. i must start the troop out in pursuit at once," said miller; and then, followed by his adjutant, he plunged forth into the darkness. when nellie bayard, with white cheeks, peeped timidly into the hall it was empty. mclean had gone without a look or word for her. "by jove, doctor, this sort of thing makes my pulses jump," exclaimed mr. holmes the moment the major had gone. "can't i go and see the start? i'd like to offer a prize to the troop--or something." "of course you can. i'll go, too. we'll all go. i know the ladies want to. run up and get your wraps, though it isn't raining now." and the ladies, one and all, scurried away up the stairs. a moment later mr. holmes was slipping into his beaver overcoat that had been hanging in the hall. then he began fumbling in the pockets, first one and then another. he tried the outside, then threw it open and thrust his hand into those within the broad lapels, a look of bewilderment coming over his face. "what's the matter?" asked the doctor. "want another cigar? here, man! there are plenty in the dining-room; let me get you one." "no, no! it isn't that! i've smoked enough. wait a moment." and again he thrust his hands deep in the pockets. "hold on till i run up to my room," he continued, and darted lightly up the stairs. the ladies were all fluttering down again and were grouped in the lower hall as he came back, laughing, but with an odd, white look about his face. "holmes! something's the matter. what have you lost? what's been taken?" "nothing--nothing of any consequence. come on. let us hurry after the major, or we'll miss the fun. mrs. miller, permit me," and he offered his arm to the major's wife, who stood nearest the door. "no, but i insist on knowing what is missing, holmes. it is my right to know," called the doctor, as he struggled into his army overcoat. "nothing but a cigar-case and an old pocket-book. i've mislaid them somewhere and there's no time to look. come on." "mr. holmes," said mrs. miller in a low tone, "i have abundant reason for asking and--no! tell me. where was that pocket-book and how much money was there in it?" "in my overcoat-pocket, at sunset. probably one hundred dollars or so. i never carry much in that way. you will not speak of it, mrs. miller?" "to my husband i must, and this very night. you do not dream what trouble we are in, with a thief in our very midst." "some of the servants, i suppose," he said, carelessly. but to his surprise she only bowed her head and was silent a moment, then muttered rather than spoke the words,-- "god knows. i only hope so!" v. "what a trump that young fellow mclean seems to be, doctor," said mr. holmes, reflectively, late that night as the two men were smoking a final cigar together. "oh, he's not a bad lot by any means," was the reply. "good deal of a boy, you know. has no experience of life. doesn't know anything, in fact, except what professional knowledge he picked up at the point. you can't expect anything else of an infantry subaltern whose army life has been spent out in this god-forsaken country." "why do you always run down this country, doctor? it's a glorious country, a magnificent country. i declare i hate the clatter and racket and rush of chicago more and more every time i go back to it." "that's all very well. you are unmarried, and can come and go as you please. if you were a man of family and compelled as i am to bring up a daughter in these barbaric wilds, or even to live here at all,--a man of my tastes and antecedents,--you'd curse the fates that landed you in the army. still, i would not mind it so much if it were not for nellie. it is galling to me to think of her having to spend so much of her fair young life in these garrison associations. who is there here, except possibly miss forrest, who, by birth, education, and social position, is fit to be an intimate or friend? what opportunities has a girl of her--pardon my egotism--parentage in such a mill as this?" holmes almost choked over his cigar. he bent impulsively forward as though to speak, but gulped back his words, shook his head, and began puffing vigorously once more. he felt that the time had not yet come. he knew that with her he was making no progress whatever. she had been cordial, sweet, kind, as befitted her father's daughter to her father's guest; but this day, as though her woman's wit were fathoming the secret of his heart, a suspicion of reserve and distance had been creeping into her manner and deepening toward night. then he recalled miss forrest's trenchant words; he remembered the white face that came back from the peep into the empty hall. was mclean the man "nearer her own years" who had already found a lodgement in her heart? he had come back full of admiration for the young soldier whose pluck and ambition had prompted him to beg for service on a probably dangerous expedition, a pursuit of the band that had wounded his comrade and killed two of his men. he wanted to know more of him. "speaking of young mclean, who is he? the name is one of the best." "oh, he's only distantly related to the main line, i fancy. the country is full of them, but only a few belong to _the_ mcleans. of course, i suppose they all hail from the old highland clan, but even there the line of demarcation between chieftain and gillie of the same name was broad as the border itself. if the young fellow had money or influence he'd come out well enough, provided he could travel a year or so. he needs polish, _savoir-faire_, and he can't travel because he's in debt and hasn't a penny in the world." "how in debt? one would suppose a young fellow of his appearance could live on his pay, unless he drank or gambled. i rather fancied he wasn't given to that sort of thing." "oh, it isn't that; he's steady enough. the trouble with mclean is some commissary stores that were made away with by his sergeant when he was 'acting' here last winter. he could hardly help it, i suppose: the sergeant was an expert thief and hid his stealings completely, and made a very pretty penny selling bacon and flour and sugar and coffee to these black hills outfits going up the last year or so. when the regimental quartermaster got back and the stores were turned over to him, the sergeant promptly skipped, and mclean was found short about six hundred dollars' worth. they had a board of survey last winter, and the orders in the case were only finally issued a few weeks ago just as he returned from leave. he's got to make it all up out of his pay,--he has nothing else." "isn't that pretty rough on the youngster?" "yes, perhaps, but it's business. he won't have such confidence in human nature again. if that sergeant were back here i could account for the disappearance of your porte-monnaie by a surer hypothesis than that you lost it or dropped it. are you sure you dropped it?" "well, no, i can't be sure," said holmes, knocking the ashes off his cigar, "but it could have so happened, very easily. i was talking earnestly all the way home from the store, where we stopped coming back from stables, you remember, and i'm getting absent-minded at times. besides, how else could it have gone, supposing it to have been in the pocket of the overcoat when i hung it in the hall just before dressing for dinner? you have had robert years." "he has been with me over seven years, and came to me with a high character from the old first artillery. i never heard of his being even suspected of dishonesty." "he is the only man who has been in the hall to-night. no one could have come in from the front while we were at dinner." "no one without our knowledge. the door has a queer sort of latch or lock. sometimes in high winds it would let go and blow open, but some servant who had lived here before we came put robert up to a way of catching it that proved very effective. no; nobody was in the hall except mclean, and of course that is out of the question. besides, he had not time. he was only there half a minute or so." mr. holmes bowed without speaking. he remembered perfectly, however, that it was nearer five minutes that mr. mclean had to wait there while the doctor was finishing that confounded story. nevertheless, as the doctor said, that was out of the question. "oh, no!" he broke in hurriedly, "i cannot think any one here could have taken it. it will turn up somewhere among my other traps to-night, or else i've dropped it. don't think of it, doctor; that distresses me far worse than the loss. suppose we turn in now, and i'll look around my room once more." half an hour later the doctor tapped softly at his guest's door. "found it?" he asked. "no, not yet; going to bed," was the answer, accompanied by an ostentatious yawn. "good-night, doctor." mr. holmes had indeed found no pocket-book. the discovery he made was far less welcome. an amethyst pin with sleeve-buttons to match, a piece of personal property that he highly valued, had disappeared from his dressing-case. there were three pairs of sleepless eyes in the doctor's quarters when the sentries were shouting the call of "half-past twelve o'clock." nellie bayard, in her dainty little white room, was whispering over a tear-stained pillow her prayer for the safety of randall mclean, who was riding post-haste down the swollen platte. dr. bayard, too excited to go to bed, had thrown himself on a sofa and was plotting for the future and planning an alliance for his fair daughter that would mean power and position for himself. and mr. holmes was sitting with darkened face at his bedside, gazing blankly at the handkerchief he had picked up on the floor just in front of the bureau, a handkerchief embroidered in one corner with the letters r. mcl. * * * * * over at the major's quarters were other sleepless eyes. it was late, nearly midnight, when the commanding officer finished dictating his telegraphic despatches to department head-quarters, and when he reached his home mrs. miller was still sitting up for him. a faithful and devoted spouse she was,--something of the peggy o'dowd order, and prone at times to order him about with scant ceremony, but quickly resentful of any slight from other sources. she could not bear that any man or woman should suppose for an instant that her major was not the embodiment of every attribute that became a soldier and a man. she stood between him and the knowledge of many a little garrison squabble or scandal rather than have him annoyed by tales that were of no consequence; but now she had that to tell that concerned the honor and welfare of the whole command, and she felt that he must know at once. "major," she said to him when once they had gained the seclusion of the marital chamber, "has captain bruce ever said anything further to you about that story from robinson last winter?" "n-nothing much," answered miller, who dreaded that something more of the same kind was coming, and would gladly have avoided the subject. "i know that he bade mrs. bruce destroy the letter she got and say no more about it," pursued mrs. miller, "but she and i are very old friends, as you know, and she could not well avoid telling me that after i told her of the letter i got. now, it was bad enough that these things should have occurred there, and that suspicion should have attached to some one in captain forrest's household; but things are worse than ever now. have you seen mr. hatton to-day?" "i've seen him, of course, but he didn't say anything on--on such a subject." "now, i don't want you to blame mr. hatton, major. you must remember that he has always said that i was like a mother to him because i nursed him through the mountain fever, and he has always confided in me ever since; but the other night while he was at the gordons', the same night he came here after tattoo, somebody went to his room and stole from his trunk over one hundred and fifty dollars in greenbacks and a beautiful scarf-pin that his brother gave him." "and he did not report it to me?" asked the major, impetuously. "he did not then, though he meant to, because mr. mclean induced him to promise not to, because----" "well, because what? what reason could young mclean assign that could justify his concealing such a matter from the commanding officer?" "because he said it was cruel to allow a woman to be suspected, when she had no man in the garrison--husband, brother, or father--to take her part." "a woman! what? some servant?" "worse than that, major,--miss forrest." bang! dropped the heavy boot the major had just pulled from his foot, and, one boot off and the other boot on, he started up and stood staring at his wife in blank amaze. "listen, dear," she said, "heaven knows it is no pleasure to tell it. she was seen, so my letter said, in the quarters of the officer who was robbed at red cloud, the night he was officer of the day. they lived, you know, in the same building. the night mr. hatton's trunk was opened she came very late to the gordons'. very probably it was she with whom mr. mclean collided out on the parade, though i hushed you summarily when you began to joke about it, and mr. hatton hints that mclean could tell more if he would, but he has firmly set his lips against saying a word. however, that was before to-night. now for something even worse, because it has happened to a guest within our gates. mr. holmes's porte-monnaie with over one hundred dollars was taken from his overcoat-pocket as it hung in the hall to-night, and i saw her go out there while you were having your after-dinner smoke. i saw her go out there and stand by the hat-rack and pretend to be patting and admiring that beautiful fur. my back was turned, but the mirror over the mantel showed it." "how do you know he lost it?" "he told me confidentially that he was sure it was taken from his pocket, but he is trying to make the doctor believe he lost it through his own carelessness." "seems to me you have confidential relations all around, eliza; what more has been imparted to you as a secret?" "nothing," answered mrs. miller, paying no attention whatever to the first portion of the remark; "i have heard quite enough, combined with what we all know, to make me feel that either crime or kleptomania is going on, and the 'queen of bedlam' is at the bottom of it." "what is it that 'we all know?'" "that she dresses in most extravagant style; that she has suddenly had to quit her uncle's roof, where she lived for years, and come out here to be a burden on her brother, who has nothing but his pay, unless you count an invalid wife and a riotous young brood as assets. she is strange, odd, insolent, and defiant in manner. shuns all friendship, and refuses to tell anybody what was the cause of her leaving new york as she did. one thing more,--she has sent two registered letters from here within the last three days----" "now, how do you know that?" burst in the major, an angry light in his eyes. "well, my dear, don't fly off at a tangent. it is a perfectly natural thing to speak of. hardly anybody ever sends registered letters." "that's not so; there are dozens sent by the officers and men after every pay-day." "i mean hardly any women, major. i'm not talking of the men. hardly any woman ever sends a registered letter, and so when she sent two it was not at all strange that mrs. griffin should speak of it to the steward's wife, and she told mrs. gordon's sally, and so it came to me." "oh, yes. i'll be bound it reached you sooner or later," said the major wrathfully. "i'm d-blessed if anything goes on at this or any other post you women don't get hold of and knock out of shape. i shall tell griffin that his position as postmaster won't be worth the powder to blow him into the middle of the platte if that wife of his doesn't hold her tongue. no, i won't listen to any more of it to-night, anyway. i want to think over what you have told me." * * * * * and over at bedlam there were lights still burning at one o'clock. one of them shone from mr. hatton's room at the north end of the second floor. he was officer of the day, and that accounted for it. the other beamed from the corner window at the south, and a tall, graceful, womanly form, wrapped in a heavy shawl, was leaning against the wooden pillar on the veranda. a beautiful face was upturned to the few stars that peeped through the rifts of clouds that angrily swept the heavens. then, as one jewelled hand clasped the railing, the other encircled the cold, white, wooden post, and in another moment the shapely head was bowed upon it, and great sobs shook the slender figure. there was the sudden rattle of an infantry sword at the other end of the piazza, and mr. hatton, striding forth from the hall-way, was startled to see a dim, feminine form spring from the shadows at the southern side and rush with sweeping skirts into the shelter of the forrests' hall-way. "i thought i heard some one crying out here," he muttered, "and supposed it was mrs. forrest. she's always in tears now that the captain is up in the indian country. but who would have thought of miss forrest?" vi. an anxious day was that that followed the departure of captain terry and his "grays" on their midnight ride down the platte. the river was so high and swollen that it was certain that the indians could have forded it only among the rocks and shoals up at bull bend, a day's march to the north-west, and that in getting back with their plunder to the shelter of their reservation there was only one point below laramie where they could recross without having to swim, and that was full twenty-five miles down stream. as particulars began to come in of the fight with blunt's little detachment the previous day, the major waxed more and more wrathful. it would seem that there were at least fifty well-armed and perfectly-mounted warriors in the party, many of them having extra ponies with them, either to carry the spoil or to serve as change-mounts when their own chargers tired. it was next to impossible that such a force should get away from the reservation without it being a matter of common talk among the old men and squaws, and so coming to the ears of the agent, whose duty it was to notify the military authorities at once. but in this case no warning whatever had been given. the settlers in the chugwater valley had no signal of their coming, and two hapless "freighters," toiling up with ranch supplies from cheyenne, were pounced upon in plain view of hunton's, murdered and scalped and mutilated just before blunt and his little command reached the scene. despite the grave disparity in numbers, blunt had galloped in to the attack, and found himself and his troopers in a hornet's nest from which nothing but his nerve and coolness had extricated them. most of his horses were killed in the fight that followed, for blunt promptly dismounted his men and disposed them in a circle around their wounded comrades, and thereby managed to "stand off" the indians, despite their frequent dashes and incessant fire. after some hours of siege-work the savages had given it up and gone whooping off up the valley, and were next heard of shooting into the stage-station at eagle's nest. if he only had a hundred cavalry, thought miller, he could head them off and prevent their return to the reservation, where, once they crossed the lines, they were perfectly safe and could not be touched. all told, however, terry could only take with him some thirty men, and he was glad indeed to have mclean as a volunteer. it was about noon when the ambulances came in from the chugwater, bringing mr. blunt and the other wounded. the assistant surgeon of the post had ridden out with them at midnight, soon after the receipt of the news; and now, while the soldiers were taken to the post hospital and comfortably established there, mr. blunt was carried up-stairs in the north hall of "bedlam" and stowed away in the room opposite hatton's. mrs. forrest, poor lady, nearly went into hysterics as the young soldier was lifted out of the ambulance. day and night her soul was tortured with the dread that at any moment news might come that her husband was either killed or wounded,--and in the art of borrowing trouble she was more than an adept. her lamentations were so loud and voluble that miss forrest quietly but very positively took her by the arms and marched her off the piazza into her own room, where celestine was "trotting" the baby to sleep and nodding on the verge of a nap on her own account. the first thing mrs. forrest did was to whisk the half-drowsing infant out of her attendant's arms, clasp it frantically to her breast, and then go parading up and down the room weeping over the wondering little face, speedily bringing on a wailing accompaniment to her own mournful plaint. it was more than miss forrest could stand. "for mercy's sake, ruth, don't drive that baby distracted! if you cannot control your own tears, have some consideration for the children. there!" she added, despairingly, "now you've started maud and vickie, and if, between the four of you, poor mr. blunt is not made mad by night-time, he has no nerves at all." and as she spoke the hall-way resounded with the melodious howl of the two elder children, who, coming in from play on the prairie and hearing the maternal weepings, probably thought it no less than filial on their part to swell the chorus. miss forrest made a rush for the door: "maud! vickie! stop this noise instantly. don't you know poor mr. blunt is lying in the next hall, badly wounded and very sick?" "well, marmar's crying," sobbed maud, with unanswerable logic; while victoria, after stuttering enunciation of the words, "i'm crying because he's going to die," wound up with sudden declaration of rights by saying she didn't care whether auntie liked it or not, she'd cry all she wanted to; and, taking a fresh start, the six-year-old maiden howled afresh. it was too much for miss forrest's scant patience. seizing the little innocents in no gentle grasp, she lugged them down into the vacant dining-room on the south side of the lower hall, turned the key in the door, and bade them make themselves comfortable there until she chose to let them out. if they must howl, there was the place where they would be least likely to disturb the sufferer at the other end of the building. after which unwarrantable piece of assumption of authority she returned to her unhappy sister-in-law. "i declare, fanny, you have absolutely no heart at all," sobbed that lachrymose lady, as she mingled tears and sniffles with fruitless efforts to hush her infant. "wh--what have you done with my children?" "shut them up in the dining-room until they stop their noises," answered miss forrest, calmly. "you have no right whatever to punish my babies," indignantly protested mrs. forrest (and every mother will agree with her). "you are always interfering with them, and i shall write to captain forrest this very day and complain of it." "i wouldn't if i were you, ruth, because yesterday your complaint was that i never took any notice of them, no matter what they did." "well, you don't!" sobbed the lady of the house, abandoning the original line of attack to defend herself against this unexpected sortie. then, suddenly recalling the more recent injury, "at least you don't when you should, and you do when you should not. let me go to them instantly. celestine, take baby." but celestine had vanished. "give me the baby, ruth, and go by all means. then we can restore quiet to this side of the house at least,"--and she took with firm hands the shrieking infant from the mother's arms. mrs. forrest rushed down the hall and melodramatically precipitated herself upon her offspring in the dining-room. in two minutes' time the baby's wailings ceased, and when mrs. forrest reappeared, ready to resume the attack after having released the prisoners, she was surprised and, it must be recorded, not especially pleased to see her lately inconsolable infant laughing, crowing, and actually beaming with happiness in her sister-in-law's arms. "i suppose you've been feeding that child sugar," she said, as she stopped short at the threshold. "the sugar is in the dining-room, ruth, not here." "well, candy, then, and you know i'd as soon you gave her poison." "and yet you sent celestine to my room for some for this very baby yesterday." "i didn't!" "then, as i have told you more than once, ruth, celestine's statements are unreliable. i found her in my room, and she said you sent her for some candy for little hal, and i gave it to her. i do not at all like her going to my room when i'm not there." "you are down on celestine simply because she is mine, and you know it, fanny. it is so with everything,--everybody that is at all dear to me. that is enough to set you against them. my dear old father rescued celestine from bondage when she was a mere baby (a favorite paraphrase of mrs. forrest's for describing the fact that one of that damsel's parents had officiated as cook at a southern hospital where the chaplain happened to be on duty in the war-days). her mother lives with his people to this hour, and she has grown up under my eyes and been my handmaiden, and the nurse of all my children, and never a word has any one ever breathed against her until you came; and you are always doing it." "pardon me, ruth. i have only twice referred to what i consider her shortcomings. she was very neglectful of you and the children at robinson, and was perpetually going out in the evening with that soldier in captain terry's troop, and now she is getting to be as great a gad-about here. that, however, is none of my affair, but it is my right to say that i do not want her prowling about among the trunks and boxes in my room, and if you do not exert your authority over her i must find some other means of making her respect my wishes." "i suppose you will try and blacken her character and have her sent out of the post, and so rob us of the last relic i have of my home and f-f-friends," and mrs. forrest began to sob afresh. "hush! ruth. i hear the doctor in the hall below. for goodness' sake, do try and look a little less like a modern niobe when he comes up. here, take baby," and she hugged the little fellow close and imprinted a kiss upon his dimpled cheek. "i must run down and detain him a moment until you can get straightened out." nothing loath was dr. bayard to spend some moments in _tête-à-tête_ converse with miss forrest. she ushered him into the dining-room,--the only reception-room the two households could boast of under the stress of circumstances, and most graciously received his compliments on the "conquests" of the previous evening. "not only all eyes, all hearts were charmed, miss forrest. never even in the palmiest days of washington society have i seen more elegant and becoming a toilet, and as for your singing,--it was simply divine." the doctor looked, as well as spoke, his well-turned phrases. he was gallant, debonair, dignified, impressive,--"a well-preserved fellow for forty-five," as he was wont to say of himself. he anxiously inquired for her health, deplored the state of anxiety and excitement in which they were compelled to live, thanked heaven that there were some consolations vouchsafed them in their exile and isolation, and begged her to be sure and send for him should she find the strain was telling upon her nervous system; it was marvellous that she should bear up so well; his little daughter was really ill this morning and unable to leave her room, but then she was a mere child. if it were not for the incomparable pleasure he--they all--found in her presence he could almost wish that miss forrest were once more under the shelter of her uncle's hospitable roof in new york and "free from war's alarms." by the way, where was mr.--a--her uncle's residence? "mr. courtlandt's?" she answered, promptly supplying the name. "in thirty-fourth street, just east of the avenue." "to be sure; i know it well," answered the doctor. "a most refined and aristocratic neighborhood it is, and i'm sure i must have met mr. courtlandt at the union club. he is near kin, i think, to the van cortlandts, of croton, is he not?" "not very near, doctor, though i presume there is some distant connection." "ah, doubtless. i recall him only vaguely. he belonged to a much older set and went very little into general society. a man of the highest social connections, however, and of much wealth." and the doctor glanced keenly at her as he propounded this tentative. "yes, mr. courtlandt is nearly sixty now, and, as you say, doctor, he goes very little into general society. he prefers his library and his books and an occasional canter in the park to any other entertainment. in fact, except his game of whist with some old cronies, that is about all the entertainment he seeks. his wife, my aunt laura, is quite an invalid." "and they have no children?" "yes, one; a son, who is now abroad. shall we go up and see mrs. forrest now, doctor? she is looking for a visit from you. mr. blunt's appearance was a great shock to her." it was growing dusky as they passed through the hall-way. the sun was well down in the west, and heavy banks of rain-clouds obscured the heavens. miss forrest turned the knob and threw open the door leading into the unpicturesque yard at the rear of the quarters. "a little light here will be an improvement," she said. "why! who can that be?" as she spoke, a soldier, who had apparently been seated on the back steps, was striding hurriedly in the direction of the gate. he had started up just as she opened the door. "ah, my man, halt there!" called the doctor; and obediently the soldier turned and stood attention, raising his hand in salute. he was a dark, swarthy fellow, with glittering eyes and rather flat features. he wore the moustache of the trooper, and had permitted his chin whiskers to grow. the crossed sabres of the cavalry and the letter and number of the troop and regiment, all brilliantly polished, adorned his forage-cap, and his undress uniform was scrupulously neat and well-fitting. the moment he turned, miss forrest recognized him. "oh, it is celestine's soldier friend!" she said. "what are you doing here, my man?" asked the doctor, loftily. "nothing, sir," was the reply, both prompt and respectful. "the doctor probably doesn't remember me. i came in with the wounded to-day at noon,--mr. blunt's striker, sir." "well, mr. blunt's room is in the other division, and you ought to stay there." "i know, sir. i've only been here a moment," was the respectful answer. "i wanted to ask celestine to let me have a little ice if she had any, but there's no one around the kitchen." "go over to my quarters and tell my man robert to give you a big lump of it. my house is yonder at the corner. tell him dr. bayard sent you." the soldier saluted, faced about, and moved away, a trifle wearily this time. "he looks very tired," said miss forrest. "i believe he is," answered the doctor. "hold on a moment there!" he called. "were you out with mr. blunt's command?" "yes, sir. all yesterday and last night. i had to sit up with the lieutenant all night, sir, to bathe his wound." "true, true. and of course you hadn't a wink of sleep. go to your barracks and get a nap. i'm going back to mr. blunt in five minutes, and i'll send the ice over right afterward." "i thank the doctor, but i'm not sleepy. i'll get rest enough to-night," was the reply, and again the soldier saluted and turned away. "how faithful and devoted those rough-looking fellows can be to their officers!" said miss forrest. "yes," answered the doctor, musingly, as he gazed after the retreating form. "yes, very. some of them are models,--and yet, somewhere or other i think i have seen that man before. do you know his name?" "no. i'll ask celestine, if you wish to know. she ought to be up-stairs with the children now. may i not run over and see miss bayard presently." "my nellie? we shall be charmed. if you will only wait a moment until i have seen mr. blunt, i shall be delighted to escort you. she is all alone unless mrs. miller has returned to her, and the house is deserted down-stairs. mr. holmes is out somewhere with the major." but miss forrest did not wait. no sooner had the doctor finished his brief visit to her sister-in-law than the young lady threw a light wrap over her shoulders, and, just as the bugle was sounding first call for retreat, she walked rapidly to the big house at the south-west corner, noiselessly opened the door without the formality of ringing for admission, and in the gathering darkness of the hall-way within, where she had to grope a moment to find the banister-rail, she came face to face with mrs. miller. vii. cold and still the dawn is breaking. faint, wan, and pallid is the feeble gleam that comes peeping over the low hills far over at the east. bare and desolate look the barren slopes on every hand. not a tree, not a shrub of any kind can eye discover in this dim and ghostly light. all is silence, too. even the coyotes who have set up their unearthly yelping at odd intervals during the night seem to have slunk away before the coming of the morning's sun and sought the shelter of their lurking-spots. here on the bleak ridge, where three men, wrapped in cavalry overcoats, are lying prone, not a sound of any kind beyond an occasional muffled word is to be heard. three hundred yards behind them, down in the valley, some thirty shadowy steeds are cropping at the dense buffalo-grass, while their riders, dismounted now, are huddled together for warmth. the occasional stamp of a hoof and the snort of some impatient charger break the silence here, but cannot be heard out at the front where the picket is lying. another sound, soothing, monotonous, ceaseless, falls constantly upon the ear of the waking soldiers,--the rush of the swollen platte over the rocks and gravel of the ford a quarter-mile away, the only point below the fort where the renegade sioux can recross without swimming, and they are not yet here to try it. when they come they will find captain terry, with young mclean and thirty troopers, lurking behind the covering ridge, ready and willing to dispute the passage. through the darkness of the night those good gray steeds, flitting like ghosts along the shore, have come speeding down the platte to land their riders first at the goal, and once here, and satisfied by scrutiny of the south entrance to the ford that no indian pony has appeared within the last twenty-four hours, terry has posted his lookouts on the ridge, and then, having hoppled and "half-lariated" his horses, has cautioned the men to rest on their arms and not to throw off belt or spur. "there is no telling," he says, "what moment they may come along." mclean, with his long springfield rifle, has gone up to the ridge to join the outlying picket. a keen-eyed fellow is this young soldier and a splendid shot, and the indians who succeed in crossing that next ridge a mile farther south and approaching them unobserved will have to wear the cap of the "invisible prince." he has come out on this scout full of purpose and ambition. things have not gone happily with him during the past few days. profoundly depressed in spirits at the millstone of debt suddenly saddled upon him as the result of peculations of the deserting sergeant, he has the added misery of seeing the sweet-faced girl with whom he has fallen so deeply in love practically withdrawn from his daily life and penned up within her father's house for the evident object of compelling her to entertain the devotion of a rival, whose wealth and social position make him a man to be feared,--a man whom any woman, old or young, might think twice before refusing. already the people at laramie were discussing the possibilities,--some of them in his very presence; and there were not lacking those to say, that, even if she had been more than half inclined to reciprocate mclean's evident attachment, she would be a fool not to accept roswell holmes, with his wealth, education, and undoubted high character. a second lieutenant in the army was all very well for a girl who could do no better, but elinor bayard was of excellent social position herself. her mother's people ranked with the best in the land, and her father, despite his _galanterie_, was a man distinguished in his profession and in society. it was driving mclean wellnigh desperate. not one word of love-making had been breathed between him and the gentle girl who so enjoyed her walks and rides with him, but he knew well that her woman's heart must have told her ere this how dear she was to him, and it was no egotism or conceit that prompted him to the belief that she would not show such pleasure in his coming if he were utterly indifferent to her. coquetry was something nellie bayard seemed deficient in; she was frank and truthful in every look and word. and yet, realizing what grounds he had for hope, mclean was utterly downcast when he faced the situation before him. it would take him a year--with the utmost economy he could command--to pay off the load that had been so ruthlessly heaped upon him. he realized that so long as he owed a penny in the world he had no right to ask any woman to be his wife. meantime, here was this wealthy, well-educated, well-preserved man of affairs ready and eager to lay his name and fortune at her feet. what mattered it that he was probably more than double her age? had mclean not read of maidens who worshipped men of more than twice their years even to the extent of--"a love that was her doom?" had he not read aloud to her only a fortnight before the story of launcelot and the lily maid of astolat? poor fellow! in bitterness of spirit he believed that in the last few days she had purposely avoided him, and had treated him with coldness on the few occasions when they met; and now he had sought this perilous duty eagerly and avowedly; he had set forth without so much as a word of farewell to her or a touch of her trembling little hand, affecting to be so occupied in preparation up to the instant of starting that he had no time for a word with anybody. and yet mrs. miller had called him aside and spoken to him as the group of officers and ladies gathered near the laramie bridge to see the little column start, and nellie bayard had looked up wistfully at him as he rode by their party, merely waving his scouting-hat in general salutation. it hurt her sorely that he should have gone without one word for her,--and yet she scarce knew why. and now here they were, squarely across the indian trail, and ready for their coming. roswell holmes could not have that distinction at all events, thought mclean, as he tried the lock and breech-block of his rifle to see that everything was in perfect working order. come what might,--if it were only indians,--he meant to make a record in this fight that any woman might be proud of; and if he fell,--well, he wouldn't have to pay for sergeant marsland's stealings, or have the misery of seeing her borne off by holmes's big bank-account, as she probably would be. poor mac! he had yet to learn that a reputation as an indian-fighter is but an ephemeral and unsatisfactory asset as an adjunct to love-making. meanwhile, the dawn is broadening; the grayish pallor at the orient takes on a warmer tint, and a feeble glow of orange and crimson steals up the heavens. the slopes and swales around the lonely outpost grow more and more visible, the distant ridge more sharply defined against the southern sky. off to the left, the eastward, the river rolls along in a silvery, misty gleam; and their comrades, still sheltered under the bluff, are beginning to gather around the horses and look to the bridles and "cinchas." now the red blush deepens and extends along the low hill-tops across the platte, and tinges the rolling prairie to the south and west. a few minutes more and the glow is strong enough to reveal an old but well-defined trail leading from the distant ridge straight up to the little crest where mclean is lying. it seems to follow a south-westerly course, and is the trail, beyond doubt, along which the marauders from the reservations have time and again recrossed with their plunder and gained the official shelter of those sacred limits. "why, sir," says corporal connor, who is lying there beside the young officer, "last october a party came over and scalped two women and three teamsters not three miles from the post, and ran off with all their cattle. we caught up with them just across the niobrara, and they dropped the mules and horses they were driving and made a run for it. we chased and gained on them every inch of the way, but they got to the lines first, and then they just whirled about and jeered at us and shook the scalps in our faces, and called us every name you could think of,--in good english, too," added the trooper seriously; "and the lieutenant and i rode to the agency and pointed out two of them to the agent that very day, but he didn't dare arrest them. his life depended on his standing by them through thick and thin. look, lieutenant! look off there!" over to the southwest, dimly visible, three or four shadowy objects are darting rapidly over the distant ridge that spans the horizon in that direction. for one moment only they are revealed against the sky, then can be seen, faint as far-away cloud-shadows, sweeping down into the shallow valley and making for the river above the position of the outpost. indians, beyond question! the advance guard of the main body; and the time for action has come. instead of riding toward them, however,--instead of approaching the ford by the most direct line,--these scouts are loping northward from the point where the trail crosses the ridge, and pushing for the stream. mclean sees their object with the quickness of thought. 'tis not that they have made a "dry camp" during the night, and are in haste to get to water with their ponies. he knows well that in several of the ravines and "coulies" on their line of march there is abundant water at this season of the year. he knows well that not until they had crept up to and cautiously peered over that ridge, without showing so much as a feather of their war-bonnets, would they venture so boldly down into the "swale." he knows well that both in front and rear they are watching for the coming of cavalry, and that now they are dashing over to the platte to peer across the skirting bluffs until satisfied no foeman is near, then to scurry down into the bottom to search for hoof-prints. if they find the well-known trail of shod horses in column of twos, it will tell them beyond shadow of doubt that troops are already guarding the ford. "confound it!" he exclaims. "why didn't we think of it last night, and come down the other side? we could just as well have crossed the platte on the engineer bridge, and then they couldn't have spotted us. now it's too late. run back, corporal, and warn the captain. i'll stay here and watch them." connor speeds briskly down the slope, and, even as they see him coming, the men lead their horses into line. captain terry has one foot in the stirrup as the non-commissioned officer reaches him and his hand goes up in salute. "lieutenant mclean's compliments, sir" (the invariable formula in garrison, and not omitted in the field by soldiers as precise as the corporal). "three or four bucks are galloping over to the river above us to look for our tracks." "how far above us, corporal?" "nigh on to a mile, sir." "sergeant wallace, stay here with the platoon. mount, you six men on the right, and come after me as quick as you can!" and away goes captain terry, full speed up the valley and heading close under the bluffs. in a minute three of the designated troopers are in a bunch at his heels, the other three scattered along the trail. from mclean's post he can see both parties in the gathering light,--the indians, slowly and cautiously now, beginning the ascent to the bluffs, the captain and his men "speeding it" to get first to the scene. another moment, and he sees terry spring from his horse, throw the reins to a trooper, and run crouching up toward the crest; then, on hands and knees, peep cautiously over, removing his hat as he does so. then he signals "forward" to his men, slides backward a yard or two, runs to his horse, mounts, gallops some four hundred yards farther along the foot of the slope, then turns, rides half-way up, and then he and four of the men leap from their saddles, toss their reins to the two who remain mounted, and, carbine in hand, run nimbly up the bluffs and throw themselves prone upon the turf, almost at the top. not two hundred yards away from them four sioux warriors, with trailing war-bonnets and brilliant display of paint and glitter, are "opening out" as they approach, and warily moving toward the summit. one instant more and there is a sudden flash of fire-arms at the crest; five jets of bluish smoke puff out upon the rising breeze; five sputtering reports come sailing down the wind a few seconds later; and, while two of the warriors go whirling off in a wide, sweeping circle, the other two are victims to their own unusual recklessness. one of them, clinging desperately to the high pommel, but reeling in his saddle, urges his willing pony down the slope; the other has plunged forward and lies stone-dead upon the sward. even at the echo of the carbines, however, popping up from across the ridge a mile away, there come whirling into view a score of red and glittering horsemen, sweeping down in broad, fan-shaped course, at top speed of their racing ponies, yelling like mad, and lashing their nimble steeds to the rescue. two minutes of that gait, and the captain and his little squad will be surrounded. "mount! mount!" shouts mclean, as he turns and rushes down the slope, followed by his picket-guard. "lively now, sergeant. run to the captain. don't wait for me!" "come on, all you fellers!" is sergeant wallace's characteristic rallying cry; and away goes the little troop, like a flock of quail. mclean is in the saddle in an instant, and full tilt in pursuit. not a moment too soon! even before the leading troopers have reached the two "horse-holders" under the bluffs, both above and below the captain's position, the plumed and painted warriors have flashed up on the ridge and taken him in flank. without the prompt aid of his men he would be surrounded in the twinkling of an eye. already these daring flankers have opened fire on the knot of horsemen, when mclean shouts to some of the rearmost to follow him, and veering to the left he rides straight at the indians who have appeared nearest him along the bluffs. two of the troopers follow unhesitatingly; others sheer off toward their main body. there's too much risk in darting right into the teeth of a pack of mounted sioux, even to follow an officer. wary and watchful the indians mark his coming. circling out to right and left they propose to let him in, then follow their old tactics of a surround. he never heeds their manoeuvres; his aim is to get to close quarters with any one of them and fight it out, as highland chieftains fought in the old, old days of target and claymore. he never heeds the whistle of the bullets past his ears as one after another the nearest indians take hurried shots at him. straight as a dart he flies at a tall savage who pops up on the ridge in front of him. the long springfield is slung now, and he grasps the gleaming revolver in his hand. twice the indian fires, the lever of his henry rifle working like mad, but the bullets whiz harmlessly by; then, with no time to reload, and dreading the coming shock, he ducks quickly over his nimble piebald's neck and strives to lash him out of the way, just as the young officer from some other hand receives but recks not of a wound, and then troop-horse, pony, soldier, and savage are rolling in a confused heap upon the turf. the indian is the first on his feet and limping away; no redskin willingly faces white man "steel to steel." mclean staggers painfully to his knees, brushes dust and clods from his blinded eyes with one quick dash of his sleeve, and draws a bead on his red antagonist just as the latter turns to aim; there is a sudden flash and report, and the sioux throws up his hands with one yell and tumbles headlong. then a mist seems rising before the young soldier's eyes, the earth begins to reel and swim and whirl, and then all grows dark, and he, too, is prostrate on the sward. viii. they were having an anxious day of it at laramie. early in the morning a brace of ranchmen, still a-tremble from their experiences of the night, made their way into the post and told gruesome stories of the doings of the indians at eagle's nest and beyond. the cheyenne stage, they said, was "jumped," the driver killed, and the load of passengers burned alive in the vehicle itself. there might have been only fifty warriors when they fought lieutenant blunt and his party in the chug valley, but they must have been heavily re-enforced, for there were two hundred of them at the least count when they swept down upon the little party of heroes at the stage station. they fought them like tigers, said the ranchmen, but they would probably have burned the building over their heads and "roasted the whole outfit" had it not been that the coming of the stage had diverted their attention. these were the stories with which the two worthies had entertained the guard and other early risers pending the appearance of the commanding officer; and these were the stories that, in added horrors and embellishments, spread throughout the garrison, through kitchen to breakfast-room, as the little community began to make its appearance down-stairs. major miller, a veteran on the frontier, had taken the measure of his informants in a very brief interview. aroused by the summons of lieutenant hatton, to whom as officer of the day the guard had first conducted these harbingers of woe, the major had shuffled down-stairs in shooting-jacket and slippers, and cross-examined them in his dining-room. both men looked wistfully at the brimming decanter on his sideboard, and one of them "allowed" he never felt so used up in his life; so the kind-hearted post commander lugged forth a demijohn and poured out two stiff noggins of whiskey, refreshed by which they retold their tale. miller "gave them the rein" for five minutes and then cross-questioned, as a result of which proceeding he soon dismissed them to the barracks and breakfast, and announced to hatton and the adjutant that there would be no change in the orders,--he didn't believe one-fourth of their story. the stage, he said, wasn't due at eagle's nest until four o'clock in the morning, and these men had declared it burned at three. it was utterly improbable that it came farther than phillips's crossing of the chugwater, where it was due at midnight, and where long before that time all the hands at the station had been warned, both by couriers and fugitives, that the indians were swarming up the valley. they had cut the telegraph-wire, of course, on striking the road, early in the afternoon, and it was impossible to tell just how things had been going; but he was willing to bet that the stage was safe, despite the assertions of the ranchmen that they had seen the blaze and heard the appalling shrieks of the victims. the major's confidence, however, could not be shared by the dozen houses full of women and children whose closest protectors were far away on the fields where duty called them. laramie was filled with white, horror-stricken faces and anxious eyes, as the ladies flitted from door to door before the call for guard-mounting, and "boomed" the panic-stricken ranchmen's story until it reached the proportions of a wholesale massacre and an immediately impending siege of the fort by red cloud and all his band. women recalled the fearful scene at fort phil kearney in , when the same old chieftain, mach-pe-a-lo-ta, surrounded with a thousand warriors the little detachment of three companies and butchered them within rifle range of the trembling wives and children at the post; and so by the time the story reached the doctor's kitchen it had assumed the dimensions of a colossal tragedy. they were just gathering in the breakfast-room,--nellie a trifle pale and weary-looking, the doctor and holmes a bit the worse for having sat up so late and smoked so many cigars, but disposed to be jovial and youthful for all that. coffee was not on the table, and robert failed to respond to the tinkling of the little silver bell. then sounds of woe and lamentation were heard in the rear, and the doctor impatiently strode to the door and shouted for his domestics. robert responded, his kinky wool bristling as though electrified and his eyes fairly starting from their sockets; he was trembling from head to foot. "what's the matter, you rascal, and why do you not answer the bell?" angrily demanded his master. but it was "the johnsons' winnie" who responded. she had doubtless been going the rounds, and was only waiting for another chance to make a dramatic _coup_. rushing through the kitchen, she precipitated herself into the breakfast-room. "oh, miss nellie," she sobbed, "there's drefful news. the indians burned the stage with everybody in it, and they've shot captain terry and mr. mclean an' all the soldiers with 'em, an'----" "silence, you babbling idiot!" shouted dr. bayard. "stop your fool stories, or i'll----" "but it's god's truth, doctor. it's god's truth," protested winnie, desperately determined to be defrauded of no part of her morning's sensation. "ask anybody. ask the sergeant of the guard. yo' can see the men what brought the news yo'self." "pardon me, doctor," interrupted mr. holmes, in calm, quiet tones. "this has been too much of a shock for miss bayard, i fear." and already he was by her side, holding a glass of water to her pallid lips. the doctor pointed to the door. "leave the room, you pestilence in petticoats!" he ordered. "go!" and, having accomplished her desire to create a sensation, though balked of the full fruition of the promised enjoyment, winnie flew to "bedlam," where she only prayed that celestine might not be before her with the news. meantime, dr. bayard had turned to his daughter. his first impulse was to reprove her for her ready credence of the story set afloat by so notorious a gabbler as the johnsons' "second girl." one glance at elinor's pale features and drooping mien changed his disposition in a trice. anxiously he stepped to her side, and his practised hand was at her pulse before a word of question was uttered. then he gently raised her head. "look up, daughter! why, my little girl, this will never do! i don't believe a word of this absurd story, and you must not let yourself be alarmed by such fanciful pictures. come, dear! mr. holmes will excuse you this morning. let me get you to your room. will you kindly touch that bell, holmes, and send chloe to me? i'll rejoin you in a moment. come, nell?" and half leading, half carrying, he guided her from the room and up the stairs, while holmes, with grave and thoughtful face, stood gazing after them. it was some time before the doctor reappeared, even after chloe joined him in the chamber of her young mistress. when he did the breakfast was cold, and both men were too anxious to get the true story to care whether they breakfasted or not. each took a swallow of coffee, then hastened forth. "that poor little girl of mine!" said dr. bayard. "she has a very nervous, sensitive organization, and such a shock as that fool of a wench gave her this morning is apt to upset her completely. now, she has no especial interest in any of terry's party, and yet you might suppose her own kith and kin had been scalped and tortured." but holmes would not reply. meantime, winnie had reached "bedlam," where, to her disgust, celestine had already broached the tidings to the breakfast-table, and mrs. forrest had been borne half fainting to her room. pale, but calm and collected, miss forrest returned and began questioning the girl as to the sources of her information, and it was on hearing this colloquy that winnie took heart of grace and impulsively sprang up the steps into the hall-way to add her share to the general sensation. it was with a feeling bordering on exultation that she found the local account to be lacking in several of the most startling and dramatic particulars. celestine had not heard of the massacre of captain terry's command, and it was her own proud privilege to break the news to miss forrest. here, however, she overshot the mark, for that young lady looked determinedly incredulous, dismissed her colored informant as no longer worthy of consideration, and, taking a light wrap from the hat-rack in the hall, tapped at mrs. post's door. "will you kindly look after mrs. forrest a moment in case she should need anything? i will go to major miller's and investigate these stories. they seem absurd." and with that she sped swiftly around the parade, along the broad walk, and was quickly at the major's door and ushered into the parlor. there were dr. bayard and mr. holmes in earnest talk with the commanding officer. all three arose and greeted her with marked courtesy. "i am sorry that my wife is not here to welcome you, miss forrest," said the major, "but with the exception of her and yourself the entire feminine element of this garrison is stampeded this morning; the women have frightened themselves out of their senses. have you come for dr. bayard? i hope mrs. forrest has not collapsed, as mrs. gordon has. mrs. miller has gone to pull her out of a fit of hysterics." "mrs. forrest will need nothing more, i think, than an assurance that there is little truth in these stories." "upon my word, miss forrest, i believe they are as groundless as--other sensational yarns that have come to my ears. two badly-scared ranchmen are responsible for kindling the fire, but the nurse-maids and cooks have fanned it into a chicago conflagration. the indians may have built a fire down the road beyond eagle's nest, but i'll bet it wasn't the stage. and as for terry and mclean, we haven't a word of any kind from them. that story is built out of wind." "then will you pardon me, dr. bayard, if i suggest that it might be well if some one in authority were to warn the hospital nurse who is with mr. blunt, to be sure and let no one approach him with such news as has been flying around the post? i fear he had a restless night." "a most thoughtful suggestion, my dear young lady, and, if you are going home, i will escort you, and then go to blunt at once. may i have that pleasure?" "i--had hoped to see mrs. miller, doctor, and think i will go to the east side a moment and inquire for mrs. gordon." "by all means, miss forrest, and so will i," answered bayard, bowing magnificently. "you will excuse me, mr. holmes? i will be home in a quarter of an hour." "certainly, doctor, certainly," was the prompt reply, and both major miller and mr. holmes followed the two out upon the piazza and stood watching them as they walked away. "a singularly handsome and self-possessed young woman that, mr. holmes!" remarked the major. "now, there's the sort of girl to marry in the army. she has nerve and courage and brains. by jove! that's one reason, i suppose, the women don't like her!" "and they do not like her?" queried holmes. "can't bear her, i judge, from what i hear. she dresses so handsomely, they say, that she's an object of boundless interest to them,--like or no like." "our friend the doctor seems decidedly an ardent admirer. he was showing himself off in most brilliant colors last night, and evidently for her benefit." "oh, yes, i rather fancied as much. they would make a very distinguished couple," said the colonel, reflectively, "and no bad match, despite the disparity in years. she refused two youngsters up at red cloud who were ready to cut each other's throats on her account. that's one reason i admire her sense. the idea of a woman like that, or any woman, marrying a second lieutenant!" "you waited for your 'double bars,' major?" smilingly queried mr. holmes. "oh, lord, no!" laughed miller. "like most people who preach, i'm past the practising age. i was married on my graduation leave,--but things were different before the war. army people didn't live in the style they put on now. our wives were content with two rooms and a kitchen, a thousand a year, and one new dress at christmas. now!" but the major stopped short, words failing him in the contemplation of mightiness as shown in the contrast. "i'm no great judge of women," said holmes, presently, "but that young lady roused my interest last night. are there any tangible reasons why they should give her the cold shoulder?" miller colored in the effort to appear at ease. "none that i have any personal knowledge of or feel like treating with respect. there's no accounting for women's whims," he added, sententiously. "jupiter! here it is nine o'clock, and nothing done yet. i can't telegraph, for they've cut the wires. i've sent out scouts, but it may be noon before they'll get back. meantime, we have to sit here with our hands tied, and the devil to pay generally in garrison. ah! there go the doctor and miss forrest over to 'bedlam.' isn't he a magnificent old cock? just see him court her! will you come with me to the office?" "i believe not, major. i think i'll walk around a little. i'm a trifle fidgety myself this morning, and eager for reliable news. there's no objection, is there, to my going down to the barracks and interviewing those ranchmen? you know i'm something of a 'cow-puncher' myself, and may be able to squeeze some grain of truth out of them." "no, indeed! go ahead, mr. holmes, and if you extract anything veritable let me know." passing bedlam, mr. holmes glanced up at the open gallery where the hospital attendant happened to be standing. the doctor had entered the other hall with miss forrest, and was doubtless majestically ministering to the nervous ailments of her sister-in-law. "how is lieutenant blunt this morning?" he asked. "he had a hard night, sir," was the low-toned answer. "he was in a high fever much of the time, but he seems sleeping now. is there any further news, mr. holmes?" "there is no truth in the news you have heard, if you have been afflicted with the stories sent around the post this morning. be sure and keep everything of the kind from mr. blunt. here! can you catch?" and fumbling in his waistcoat-pocket, he fetched out a glittering gold piece and tossed it deftly to the gallery. it fell upon the boards with a musical ring, and was quickly pounced upon by the man, who blushed and grinned awkwardly. "i don't like to take this, sir," he said. "it's five dollars." "never mind what it is! it's worth a thousand times its weight if you keep all such yarns from the lieutenant.--oh! good-morning, mr. hatton! i thought your rooms were up-stairs," he said, as at that moment the infantryman stepped forth from the lower hall. "they are, mr. holmes, but i have taken up my quarters temporarily in mclean's, so as not to disturb blunt with the creaking of those ramshackle old stairs. what is mac's is mine, and _vice versa_. won't you come in?" mr. holmes hesitated a moment. then a sudden thought struck him. he sprang lightly up the steps and was ushered into the sanctum of the young soldier, whom he had marked the night before starting upon the scout with terry's troopers. "so this is mclean's vine and fig-tree, is it?" said he, as he looked curiously around. "ha! lynchburg sun-dried, golden leaf! can i have a pipe?" "most assuredly! excuse me five minutes, while i run over to the guard-house. then i'll rejoin you, and we'll have a whiff together." another moment, and mr. holmes was sole occupant of the premises. he seemed to forget his desire for a smoke, and in its stead to become possessed with a devil of mild inquisitiveness. after a rapid glance around the front room, with its bare, barrack-like, soldier furnishing, he stepped quickly into the bed-chamber in the rear and went unhesitatingly to the bureau. the upper drawer came out grudgingly and with much jar and friction, as the drawers of frontier furniture are apt to do even at their best, but his firm hand speedily reduced it to subjection. a little pile of handkerchiefs, neatly folded, stood in the left-hand corner. he lifted the topmost, carried it to the window, compared the embroidered initials with those of the handkerchief he took from an inside pocket, scribbled a few closely-written words on a blank card, carefully folded the handkerchief he had brought with him, slipped the card inside the folds, replaced both on the pile, closed the drawer, and was placidly puffing away at his pipe when hatton returned. ix. late that afternoon the guard caught sight of a horseman loping rapidly up the valley and heading for the bridge across the laramie. long before he reached the post an orderly had notified the commanding officer that a courier was coming,--doubtless from captain terry's party, and major miller's appearance on his north piazza, binocular in hand, and gazing steadfastly over the distant flats to the winding trail along the river, was sufficient to bring strong representations of every household into view, all eager to see what he was seeing or to hear what he might know. mr. hatton came hurriedly over from "bedlam," took his place by the major's side, and a peep through the same big glasses. then, after a moment's consultation, the two officers started down the steps and walked briskly past the quarters on the east side, merely calling, in answer to the many queries, "somebody coming with news from terry!" and by the time they reached the old blockhouse at the north end, the somebody was in plain view, urging his foam-flecked and panting steed to a plunging gallop as he neared the laramie. the hoofs thundered across the rickety wooden bridge, and the rider was hailed by dozens of shrill and wailing voices as he passed the laundresses' quarters, where the whole population had turned out to demand information. the adjutant had joined the commanding officer by this time, and several of the guard had come forth, anxious and eager to hear the news. no man in the group could catch the reply of the horseman to the questioners at "sudstown," but in an instant an irish wail burst upon the ear, and, just as one coyote will start a whole pack, just as one midnight bray will set in discordant chorus a whole "corral" of mules, so did that one wail of mourning call forth an echoing "keen" from every hibernian hovel in all the little settlement, and in an instant the air rang with unearthly lamentations. "d---- those absurd women!" growled the major, fiercely, though his cheek paled at dread of the coming tidings. "they'll have all the garrison in hysterics. here, hatton! run down there and stop their infernal noise. there isn't one in a dozen of 'em that has any idea of what has happened. they're howling on general principles. what the devil does that man mean by telling his news before he sees the commanding officer, anyhow?" meantime, straight across the sandy flats and up the slope came the courier, his horse panting loudly. half-way from "sudstown" he was easily recognized,--corporal zook, of "terry's grays," and a tip-top soldier. reining in his horse, throwing the brown carbine over his shoulder and quickly dismounting, he stepped forward to the group and, with the unfailing salute, handed his commander a letter. "how came you to tell those women anything?" asked miller, his lips and hands trembling slightly, despite his effort to be calmly prepared for the worst. "don't you see you've started the whole pack of them to yowling? i thought i warned you never to do that again, when you came in with the news of lieutenant robinson's murder." "the major did, sir; i had it in mind when i came in sight of those irishwomen this time, and wouldn't open my lips, sir. they are bound to make a row, whatever happens. i only shook my head at them, sir." and corporal zook, despite fatigue, hard riding, and dust, appeared, if one could judge by a slight twinkle of the eye, to take a rather humorous view of this exposition of national traits. followed by two or three of the guard, mr. hatton had obediently hastened to quell the tumult of lamentation, but by the time he reached the nearest shanty the infection had spread throughout the entire community, and--women and children alike--the whole populace was weeping, wailing, and gnashing its teeth,--and no one knew or cared to know exactly why. having been wrought up to a pitch of excitement by the rumors and rapid moves of the past forty-eight hours, nothing short of a massacre could now quite satisfy sudstown's lust for the sensational, and, defrauded of the actual cause for universal bewailing, was none the less determined to indulge in the full effect. poor hatton had more than half an hour of stubborn and troublesome work before he could begin to quell the racket in the crowded tenements, and meantime there was mischief to pay in the fort. no sooner did the irish wail come floating on the wind than the direst rumors were rushed from house to house. the courier had barely had time to hand his despatches to major miller, and the major had not had time to read them, when a messenger came post-haste for dr. bayard, and stood trembling and breathless at his door while the punctilious old major-domo went to call his master. holmes was reading at the moment in the doctor's library, and, at the sound of excited voices and scurrying footfalls without, came forward into the hall just as the door of nellie's room was heard to open. glancing up, he caught sight of her at the head of the stairs,--her hair dishevelled and rippling down over her shoulders and nearly covering the dainty wrapper she wore. "mr. holmes! please see what has happened?" she cried, with wild anxiety in her eyes. "i hear such dreadful noise, and see men running down toward the laundresses' quarters." but there was no need for him to ask. the messenger at the door was only too eager. "oh, miss nellie!" she called, sobbing, half in eagerness, half in genuine distress. "there's such dreadful news! there's a man come in from captain terry's troop, and they've had a terrible fight, and mr. mclean an' lots of 'em are killed. it's all true, just as we heard it this----" but here mr. holmes slammed the door in the foolish creature's face and went tearing up the stairs, four at a bound, for, clasping the balusters with both her little hands in a grasp that seemed loosening every second, nellie bayard was sinking almost senseless to the floor. chloe, too, came running to her aid, and, between them, they bore her to the sofa in her pretty room, and then the doctor reached them, almost rejoicing to find her in tears, instead of the dead faint he dreaded. "how could i have been so mad as to bring her to such a pandemonium as this?" was his exclamation to holmes as, a moment later, they hastened forth upon the parade. "yes," he hastily answered, as a little boy came running tearfully to him, to say that mamma was taken very ill and they didn't know what to do for her. "yes. so are all the women in garrison, i doubt not; though they're all scared for nothing, i'll bet a dinner. tell mamma i'll be there just as soon as i've seen major miller. here he comes now." the major, with his adjutant, and followed by his orderly, was coming rapidly into the quadrangle as he spoke, and the two gentlemen hastened forward to meet him. from half a dozen houses women or children were rushing to question the commanding officer with wild, imploring eyes and faltering tongues. he waved his hands and arms in energetic gyrations and warned them away. "go back! go back! you distracted geese!" he called. "it's all a lie! there's hardly been a brush worth mentioning. terry and his men are all safe. now, do stop your nonsense! but come with me, doctor," he quickly added, in a lower tone. "come, mr. holmes. i want you both to hear this. it's so like terry. d---- those outrageous bridgets down there! did you ever hear anything like the row they raised? and all for nothing." "has there been no fight at all?" asked dr. bayard. "yes,--a pretty lively one, too. mclean is shot and otherwise hurt, but can't be dangerously so, for he wanted to go on in the pursuit. three horses killed and two troopers wounded; that's about the size of it, but there's more to come. doctor, i want two ambulances to go down at once; and will send half a dozen men as guard. they can ride in them. we have no more available troopers. will you go or send your assistant? you cannot get there much before ten or eleven o'clock, even if you trot all the way. better let dr. weeks go, don't you think so?" "whichever you prefer, major. weeks has been devoting himself to blunt, though of course i could relieve him there. when could we get back?" "not before noon to-morrow. the wounded are 'way down at royal's ford, where terry had left them with two or three men, and pushed on after the indians with the rest. they tricked him, i fancy, and he isn't in good humor." by this time the quartet had entered the office, and there, handing the despatch to his adjutant, and bidding the orderly close the door, the major seated himself at his desk; invited the others to draw up their chairs; produced a map of the platte country and the trails to the sioux reservation over along the white river, and bade the adjutant read aloud. this the young officer proceeded to do: "on the trail, near niobrara, . a.m. "post adjutant, fort laramie: "sir,--reaching royal's ford before daybreak, we posted lookouts and headed off the indians, who appeared at dawn. in the fight lieutenant mclean, sergeant pierce, and trooper murray were wounded; two indians killed and left on the field; others wounded, but carried off. after skirmishing some time at long range, they drew off, and were next seen far down the platte below the ford. i started at once in pursuit, but had gone only four miles when we discovered it was only a small band, and that the main body, with considerable plunder, had got down to and were crossing the ford. this led us to hasten back, and we have kept up hot pursuit to this point. now, however, the horses are exhausted, and we have not even gained upon their fresh ponies, although they were forced to abandon a good many horses they were driving away. as soon as our horses and men are rested, i will start on return _via_ the north bank. please send ambulance, etc., for the wounded. "very respectfully, your obedient servant, "george f. terry, "_captain commanding_." to this military and matter-of-fact correspondence the auditors listened in silence. "not much about that to stir up such a bobbery!" said the major, presently. "how did you hear about mclean's wanting to join the pursuit?" inquired mr. holmes. "captain terry seems to make rather slight mention of him and the other wounded. i know enough of indian-fighting to feel sure there must have been some sharp work when they leave two dead on the field." "so do i," answered the major, "and that is why i inquired of old zook for particulars. he is the last man in the ranks to be exaggerative or sensational, and as for his captain,--well, this despatch is simply characteristic of terry. he has a horror of anything 'spread-eagle,' as he calls it, and will never praise officers or men; says that it must be considered as a matter of course that they behaved well and did their duty. otherwise he would be sure to prefer charges. now, dr. bayard, if you will kindly send for dr. weeks i will give him his instructions, and, meantime, will you make such preparations as may be necessary?" this the "chesterfield of the medical department" could not but understand as a hint to be off, and he promptly arose and signified his readiness to carry out any wishes the commanding officer might have. holmes, too, arose and started for the door with his host and entertainer, and, though the major called him back and asked if he would not remain, he promptly refused, saying that he greatly wished to accompany the doctor and see the preparations made in such cases. but he tarried only a few moments with bayard at the hospital, and when the doctor strove to detain him he begged to be excused a little while. there was a matter, he said, he wanted to look into before those ambulances started. the post surgeon gazed after him in some wonderment as the chicagoan strode away, and tried to conjecture what could be taking him back to the house at this moment. nellie was not to be seen, and he knew of no other attraction. but mr. holmes had no idea of going to the surgeon's quarters. over near the block-house he saw mr. hatton with his little party returning from their inglorious mission to sudstown,--the lieutenant disgustedly climbing the slope, while a brace of his assistants, the guards, were chuckling and chatting in a low tone together, evidently extracting more amusement from their recent duty than did the officer of the day. joining hatton and allaying his anxiety by telling him the particulars of captain terry's despatch,--supplemented by the information that mclean's injuries were not considered serious,--mr. holmes asked permission to send one of the men in quest of zook, with whom he desired very much to speak. "he has gone to the stable, sir, to take care of his horse," said a corporal of the guard. "if you are in a hurry to see him, mr. holmes, perhaps the best way would be to go to the troop stables. yonder they are, down that slope to the north. he must attend to his horse,--groom and care for him before he can leave; and then, i fancy, he will be mighty glad of something to eat. i'll send for him if you wish, and tell him to come as soon as he's through his duties. where will you have him call,--at the doctor's?" "no, i believe not. if it is all the same to you, would you mind my seeing him at your quarters? i am greatly interested in this scout and fight, and want to get his story of the affair. terry doesn't tell anything but the baldest outline." "certainly, mr. holmes. my room,--that is, mclean's, be it. the door is open, and i'll be out of your way by that time. i'm going at once to ask the adjutant to take my sword, and get the major to let me go down for mac." "the ambulance is being put in readiness now. i'll go with you to major miller's. what time can i best see the corporal?" "right after retreat roll-call, just after sunset, i should say. he would like time to spruce up a bit and get supper." "then say nine o'clock. i must not leave my host alone at the dinner-table, and i fear miss bayard will not be down." "is miss bayard ill?" asked mr. hatton. "hardly that! she was greatly overcome by the shock of hearing this news as it was told her. some idiot of a servant came rushing in, and said a courier was back from captain terry's command and that mr. mclean was killed." "and she swooned or fainted?" asked hatton, with evident interest. "very nearly," answered mr. holmes, with grave face and eyes that never flinched. "i think she would have fallen down the stairs, had she not been caught in the nick of time." "that will be something poor mac will hear with comfort." "yes," was the decided answer, after an instant of silence. "yes. it would comfort me if i were in his place. nine o'clock then, mr. hatton, and at your quarters." before dark the ambulances got away, dr. weeks and the lieutenant going with them on horseback. cutting short a post-prandial cigar, mr. holmes left the surgeon to sip his coffee in solitude when a glance at his watch showed him that the hour of nine was approaching. quickly he strode over toward "bedlam," and sprang up the low flight of steps to the veranda. to his surprise, the hall-door was closed; he turned the knob, but there was no yielding. looking in through the side-lights, he could see that a lamp was burning on the second floor, but that the hall-lantern below had either been forgotten or its light extinguished. retracing his steps, he decided to go to the quartermaster and ask if he could have the key, but before he had taken thirty strides up the parade he remembered that hatton had told him that the hall-door was never locked and rarely closed. this struck him as odd, and he stopped to think it over in connection with what he had just observed. standing there just beyond the southern end of the big, faded white rookery, invisible himself in the darkness, he looked up at the lights in the rooms occupied by the forrest family, and wondered how the self-possessed and handsome young lady, now occasionally alluded to as the "queen of bedlam," had borne the day. the garrison was unusually still; not a sound of mirth, music, or laughter came from the barracks of the men; not a whisper from the quarters of the officers around the parade. somewhere, perhaps a mile away, out beyond the rushing laramie, a dog or a coyote was yelping, but all within the old fort was still as death. suddenly, from the northern end of the veranda, there came the sound of a latch or lock quickly turned, a light footfall on the creaking wooden floor, the swish and swirl of silken skirts, coming toward him rapidly. he gazed with all his eyes, but could not discern the advancing figure; so, struck by a sudden impulse, he sprang to the veranda, up the southern steps, and almost collided with a woman's form, scurrying past him in the darkness. "i beg pardon, miss for----" he began to say; but without a word, with sudden leap the slender shape whisked out of reach of voice or hand and vanished into the southern hall-way. x. before the sounding of tattoo that night, the stage came in from cheyenne. it had been warned by fleeing ranchmen of the presence of the sioux at eagle's nest, and had turned back to the strong defences at "phillips's," on the chug, remaining there in security until the driver had satisfied himself that the coast was clear. no passengers came down with him, but he brought the mail; and, as none had been received for two days, and the wires were still down, the major commanding turned out and tramped to the combined stage-station and post-office the moment he was notified of the arrival. here, while the letters and papers were being distributed, he was accommodated with a chair in mrs. griffin's little parlor, and his own personal mail was handed in to him as rapidly as the swift fingers of the postmistress could sort the various missives. outside, the stage-driver was surrounded by a little crowd of soldiers, scouts, and teamsters, and held forth with frontier descriptive power on the adventures of the night previous. he could "swar" the sioux had burned a "black hills outfit" not far below eagle's nest, for he had come far enough this side of the chug to see the glare in the skies, and had passed the charred remnants just before sundown this very evening. he had heard along the road that there were anywhere from two to five hundred indians on the raid; and miller, listening to the eager talk and comparing the estimate of the ranch-people with the experiences of his own campaigning, readily made up his mind that there were probably four or five score of young warriors in the party,--too many, with their magazine rifles, revolvers, and abundant ammunition, for terry to successfully "tackle" with his little detachment. the major rejoiced that the captain was sensible enough to discontinue the pursuit at the niobrara crossing. beyond that there were numerous ridges, winding ravines, even a shallow cañon or two,--the very places for ambuscade; and it would be an easy matter for a small party of the sioux to drop back and give the pursuers a bloody welcome. no! terry had done admirably so long as there was a chance of square fighting, and his subsequent moves, barring the one dash down-stream after a "fooling party" while the main body slipped across the ford, had been dictated by sound judgment. he deplored the crippled and depleted condition of his little command, however. here was blunt, one of his best cavalry officers, seriously wounded and in high fever; here was mclean, another admirable young soldier, he knew not how seriously wounded; and, with old bruce laid up with rheumatism, he had not a company officer for duty at the post. the adjutant and quartermaster, the doctor and his own energetic self were the only ones he could count on for the next twenty-four hours, as belonging to the garrison proper. the infantry battalion that had camped down on the flats so short a time before was already beyond his jurisdiction, in march toward fetterman up the platte. it was with great relief, therefore, he read that six troops of the --th cavalry had reached cheyenne, and were under orders to march to laramie as soon as supplied with ammunition and equipments for sharp field-service. presently he heard the suave tones of dr. bayard accosting mrs. griffin with anxious inquiries for his letters, and courteous apologies for intruding upon her during "business hours," but he had been without letters or papers so long now, had just heard of the arrival of the stage, mr. holmes was visiting him, and would she kindly put any mail there might be for mr. holmes in his box? mrs. griffin was quite as susceptible to courteous and high-bred and flattering manners as any of her sex, and to her thinking no man in all the army compared with the post surgeon in elegance of deportment. at his bidding she would willingly have left the distribution of the mail to almost any hands and come forth from behind the glass partition to indulge in a chat with him. she would gladly have invited him to step into the little parlor, but the major was already there poring over his letters, and she could not neglect her official duties in the august presence of the post commander. but mrs. griffin was all smiles as she handed out the doctor's partially-completed packet, and then, in a low tone, informed him that major miller was in the little parlor behind the office, if he saw fit to wait there, and dr. bayard, who could not abide being jostled by his fellow-men or even being seen among what he considered the common herd, eagerly availed himself of her offer. miller looked up and greeted him with a pleasant nod, and immediately read to him the news of the coming of the cavalry battalion from cheyenne, then bade him pull up a chair and read his letters by the bright "astral" burning on the centre-table. outside in the hall and corridor in front of the dusty glass partition the crowd had rapidly increased. not one in a dozen in the gathering had the faintest expectation of getting a letter, but there was no harm in asking and much mental solace, apparently, in cultivating the appearance of a man of the world or a woman of society who was in the daily habit of receiving and responding to a dozen. and so teamsters, laundresses, scouts, "indian-bound" black hillers, and one or two sauntering soldiers were swarming about the porch and hall-way, and jamming in a compact mass in front of the little window whereat the postmistress behind her vitreous barrier was still at work. it was a good-natured, chaffing, laughing crowd, but still one very independent and self-satisfied, after the manner of the frontier, where every man in a mixed gathering is as good as his neighbor, and every woman is as good as she chooses to hold herself. it had made a passage for the commanding officer and afterward for the post surgeon, but that was before it had attained its present proportions. now when mr. roswell holmes paused at the outskirts with corporal zook by his side, some of the loungers looked around with their hands in their pockets; some of the cowboys who had earned their dollars on his ranch nodded cheerily at sight of their employer; but this was the united states post-office, these were sovereign citizens, and every man or woman of them, except the half-dozen enlisted men whose mail was always taken to barracks, had just as much right there as the capitalist from chicago,--and knew it. so did mr. holmes. he returned the greetings as cheerily as they were given; made no attempt to push through, and probably would have remained contentedly until the crowd dispersed and let him in, had not the notes of the infantry bugle sounding first call for tattoo summoned zook and the other soldiers to make their way to barracks. "i'm a thousand times obliged to you, corporal zook, for all you've told me, and i assure you i'm as proud of the lieutenant as you are. now, i may not be here when the troop gets back to-morrow,--i may have to go back to see if all is well at the ranch; but after their ride they'll all be thirsty, and when i'm very thirsty there's nothing i like better than a glass of cool lager. there is plenty of it on ice at the trader's, and,--you do the entertaining for me, will you?" and the corporal found his palm invaded by a fold of crisp greenbacks. "if it's for the troop, sir, i can't say no," answered zook, with dancing eyes. pay-day was some weeks off after all, and he knew how "the fellers" would relish the trader's beer. "now, if you would like to sit down, why not go around to the other side and away from this crowd? there are empty benches at the stage-office. i must run, sir; so good-night, and many thanks." the office-window had just been thrown open and the distribution was just begun. it would be some time before his turn would come. holmes knew perfectly well that, only for the fun of the thing, some of those teamsters and scouts would form a "queue," and, with unimpeachable gravity, march up to the window and inquire if there was anything for red-handed bill, or rip-roaring mike, or the hon. g. bullwhacker, of laramie plains. he wanted time to think a bit before he returned to the doctor's house, anyhow. he had drawn from corporal zook a detailed account of mclean's spirited and soldierly conduct in the fight; learned that it was he who killed the second warrior in what was practically a hand-to-hand struggle, and that his wounds were painful and severe, despite his effort to overcome and hide them when the pursuit began. hatton's remarks had been echoing time and again through his memory. it would indeed be comfort to mclean to hear how shocked and painfully stricken was nellie bayard at the news of the fight and his probable death. if it proved half the comfort to mclean that it was sorrow to his elderly rival, thought holmes with a deep sigh, "he'll soon be well, and 'twill be high time for me to vanish." pacing slowly up the road, he turned an angle of the old wooden building, and found himself alone in a broad, square enclosure. the stars were shining brightly overhead, but there was no moon and the darkness in this nook among the storehouses and offices was simply intense. the only light came through the slats of the shutter at a side-window back of the post-office. merely glancing at it as he passed, holmes walked on with bowed head and hands clasped behind him, thinking deeply over the situation. had he come too late to win that sweet, youthful, guileless heart, or had he come only just in time to see it given to another? had he, in the light of what he had seen and heard, any right to speak of matters that had gravely distressed him? was it his bounden duty to disclose certain suspicions, display certain proofs? or was it more than all his, the man's, part to stay and help to sweep aside the web that was unquestionably weaving about that brave-faced, clear-eyed, soldierly young subaltern? despite bayard's detractions; despite mrs. miller's whispered confession that there was a thief in their midst; despite the fact that his wallet was stolen from the overcoat-pocket when no one, to his knowledge, but mclean himself had been there; despite the discovery on the floor--in front of his bureau--of a handkerchief embroidered with mclean's initials; despite the fact that it was known that he had been placed heavily in debt by the stoppage of his pay,--mr. roswell holmes could not find it in his heart to believe that the young soldier could be guilty of theft. he would not believe it of him, even as a rival. then there was another thing. who was the silken-skirted woman he met in the darkness but an hour or so before,--the woman whom he had attempted to accost, but who slipped past him like a will-o'-the-wisp--in silence? how was it that the door to hatton's hall was closed and locked, when hatton told him it was always open? why was it that the light in that lower hall was extinguished, and by whom was it done? had he not gone thither almost immediately after recovering from the surprise of his encounter on the veranda, and found the hospital attendant grumblingly relighting it? the man had heard some queer, swishing sound, he explained, as he sat by mr. blunt's bedside, and "something that sounded like drawers being opened in the room below." he stepped out in the hall, he said, just in time to hear the lock of the front door hastily turned, and somebody go stealthily and quickly out on the veranda, "swishing" all the way. the ladies had been over along the upper gallery two or three times, to bring cool drinks to mr. blunt's door and inquire how he was getting on,--mrs. post and the young lady, miss forrest, he meant,--but they wouldn't want anything in mr. mclean's rooms down-stairs. the man looked curiously up at mr. holmes as he told his tale. holmes was puzzled too, but bade him keep quiet. some one of the servants, perhaps, who wanted a match, he suggested; but the little soldier shook his head. servants didn't wear dresses that "swished" like that. the crowd was beginning to thin considerably, as holmes could tell by the sound of receding voices. he decided that it was about time for him to move and get his own mail, when he became aware of something dark and shapeless crouching along close under the post-office end of the building and slowly and cautiously approaching the window from which the light was streaming. at first he thought it some big dog scratching his side along the cleats of the wooden wall, but as he stood silently observing the dim shadow it was evident that no quadruped was thus warily creeping toward him. holmes stood leaning against a storehouse platform in the deepest shade of an over-hanging roof; the figure was perhaps twelve or thirteen yards away, and, as it neared the window, the vague outlines of the mysterious creature became more easily discernible. immediately under the beams of light that shot across the dark enclosure the figure paused; slowly raised itself; a hand went up to the head and whipped off a cap just as the crown was tinged by the gleam from within. holmes distinctly saw the reflection of the light on the brightly polished brass of the device, but could not make out whether the device itself was the crossed rifles of the infantry or sabres of the cavalry. then the hand was laid upon the sill, the body slowly unbent, and the head was raised until two beady eyes, under a low forehead and a crop of thick, dark hair, could peer in between the slats. one lingering scrutiny of every person and object visible in the room, then down he crouched, and, almost on all-fours, slipped away to the corner of the building, holmes now briskly striding in pursuit. half-way back across the court, just as he entered the beam of light, the latter's foot came down upon the edge of one of those tough and elastic hoops, such as are sure to be lying about in the yards of commissary and quartermaster storehouses, and in the twinkling of an eye it whirled up and struck him with a sharp and audible snap. in an instant the crouching figure shot to its full height and darted out of sight around the corner. when holmes reached the front of the building, not a man in uniform was visible. cowboys and a scout or two remained. the stage-driver was again the centre of attraction, and all were grouped about him on the low piazza. holmes called one of the ranchmen to one side, and asked him if he had seen or heard anything of a soldier who came suddenly around the corner, but the man shook his head. stepping inside the office he met the major and his host, dr. bayard, while a tall, well-formed, colored girl stood in front of the little wicket, and a number of loungers still hung about the place. the officers stopped and said they would wait until he got his letters, and, as he took his place near the window, mrs. griffin was just handing a little packet to the colored girl. the light fell on the topmost letter, addressed in bold, legible hand to miss fanny forrest; and holmes could plainly see the post-mark and device on the upper corner, showing that it came from the red cloud agency, and old camp robinson. "halloo!" thought he to himself, "i had forgotten that we were as good as cut off from them now, and they are sending around by way of sidney and cheyenne." quickly the girl turned over the letters, made some laughing remark expressive of disappointment at getting nothing from her beau; then, facing mr. holmes and showing her white teeth, with a coquettish toss of her head accosted him: "good-evening, mr. holmes. s'pose you don't know me; i'm celestine,--miss forrest's girl. miss griffin, yere's mr. holmes waitin' for his mail. ain't no use you lookin' for anything for this trash," she said, contemptuously indicating the two or three intervening frontier folks. "han' it to me an' i'll give it to him." but just at this moment there was a stir at the door. the loungers who had never budged an inch for mr. holmes drew promptly back, making way for a tall young lady, who entered, all aglow from a rapid walk, her dark eyes gleaming, her fine, mobile lips wreathed with pleasant smiles the instant she caught sight of the doctor, who, cap in hand, advanced to meet her. it was miss forrest herself, and behind her came her escort, the adjutant. "i thought i heard celestine's voice," she said, looking questioningly around; and holmes quickly noted that the girl had suddenly slunk back behind a little group of camp-women. finding it useless to evade the searching glance of her young mistress, the girl came forth. "yes, miss fanny. i got your letters, miss," she said, but the confident tone was gone. holmes marked the look in miss forrest's flashing eye as she took the little packet with no gentle hand. he was near enough, too, to hear the low-spoken but clearly enunciated words: "and i told you never again to touch my letters. this must be the last time." xi. four days had passed since terry's fight down the river. mclean, painfully wounded, but very quiet and plucky, had been re-established in his old quarters at "bedlam." dr. bayard, after one or two somewhat formal visits, had relinquished the entire charge of the case to his assistant; so that dr. weeks was now the medical and surgical attendant of both the young officers in the north hall, while his senior continued assiduously to care for the wants of the feminine colony in the other. it may be said right here, that, so far as those sturdy "refugees" the posts were concerned, professional and personal attentions from dr. bayard were both declared unnecessary. mrs. post was a woman of admirable physique and somewhat formidable personality. she did not fancy the elaborate manners of the surgeon at their first meeting, and allowed her lack of appreciation of "his elegancy" to develop into positive dislike before she had known him a fortnight. now, since the "north end" had become a hospital, she was willing to admit the doctor to her confidence, for the good lady was incessant in the preparation of comforting drinks or culinary dainties for the two invalids; but what was the measure of her indignation when she discovered that bayard's attentions at "bedlam" were confined to the south hall and to mrs. forrest's quarters? he had always been a specialist in the maladies of women and children, to be sure, and we all know of what vital importance are such practitioners in our large garrisons. he was a welcome visitor either at the fireside or in the sick-room of every family homestead on the reservation--except mrs. post's--whensoever he chose to call, but that his presence at mrs. forrest's should be requisite and necessary three or four times every twenty-four hours was something mrs. post could not be brought to believe, and her scepticism speedily inoculated the entire community. mrs. forrest declared she did not know how she could have lived through the terrors of the past week had it not been for dr. bayard's delicate and skilful ministrations. the doctor himself was understood to say that the poor lady's nervous system was utterly unstrung, that she was in a hyper-sensitive condition which might readily develop into nervous prostration unless she was carefully guarded. the officers of the garrison, when they spoke of the matter at all, which was not often, laughingly referred to the admirable tactics of the astute physician in finding excuses for frequent professional visits to a house where it was now apparent to all he was personally interested. the women, when they did not speak of the matter to one another, which was seldom indeed, were divided in their opinions. that dr. bayard was "smitten" with fanny forrest was something they had seen from the start, but that brilliant and most incomprehensible young woman had on more than one occasion treated him with marked coldness and aversion. what was the matter? had he been too precipitate in his wooing? twice since hatton returned with his little escort, bringing in the wounded, had miss forrest declined dr. bayard's arm, and, on the other hand, while she seemed to repel the senior, she was now showing a marked interest in his junior,--the attendant of the wounded officers. twice while dr. bayard was known to be visiting at the forrests', she was seen to come forth, and, after an irresolute glance up and down the walk, as though she had no other purpose in venturing out than to escape from her elderly admirer, the young lady had walked down the path away from the officers' quarters and disappeared from view in the direction of the trader's store. some of the ladies were beginning to believe that, _faute de mieux_, the doctor was consoling himself in a flirtation with his lackadaisical patient; but it was speedily noted that he stayed only a few moments when miss forrest left the premises, and the idea was as speedily scouted by the entire sisterhood, unless, indeed, we except the lady herself. poor mrs. forrest! in these days of her faded beauty, she could not forget the fact that it was only a few years before that her rosebud complexion and tender blue eyes had been the cause of many a heartache among the young fellows in the garrison where she, the only damsel, reigned supreme; and lives there a woman who, having once queened it over the hearts of the opposite sex, can quite abandon the idea that her powers still exist? knowing, from plain declarations to that effect, that her spirited sister-in-law totally disapproved of dr. bayard after a conversation held with him the night mclean was returned to the post, mrs. forrest was fain to flatter herself that these frequent visits to her were impelled by an interest transcending the professional and rapidly becoming sentimental. it really did her good; gave her something to think about besides her woes; rescued her from the slatternly ways into which she was falling and restored a faded coquetry to her dress and mien; brightened her dreary eyes and lent color to her pallid cheek, and prompted her to surround herself with those domestic barricades against unhallowed glances and unwarranted sighs,--the children. but when fanny forrest flatly told her it was all nonsense, this encouraging dr. bayard's visits on account of some supposititious malady, and that she was looking better than she had seen her look in six months, the lady took offence at the first statement and alarm at the second, and between the two a relapse was accomplished which, of course, triumphantly established the justice of her position and the ineffable cruelty of her sister's charge. fanny forrest's life could hardly have been pleasant just then, said superficial commentators. to every woman who called upon the lady of the house in her invalid state, mrs. forrest had something to say about the heartlessness and utter lack of sympathy with which she was treated; and who can doubt that the letters she wrote her soldier husband made frequent complaint to the same effect? now, if in the domestic circle miss forrest had no friend or sympathizer, it was quite as bad without. with all her frankness, brilliancy, and dash, with all her willingness to be cordial and friendly, there had arisen between her and the whole sisterhood in the garrison a strange, intangible, but impenetrable barrier. she was welcome nowhere, and was too proud to inquire the cause. this state of things could not go on long, as a matter of course. sooner or later the reason would be demanded by somebody, and then the stories would come out. mrs. miller and mrs. bruce, as recorded in an earlier chapter, had covenanted together to keep the secret; but that mysterious theft the night of the dinner at the doctor's had made the former determine on another revelation to her lord and master, the post commander. as for mrs. bruce, she struggled--well, womanfully--to hold her tongue, and womanfully succeeded. two nights after mclean had been brought home and was lying in a somewhat feverish condition, the major commanding came in and softly tapped at the door of the front room. hatton was seated at the table reading by the light of the argand, and he arose at once and tiptoed to see who was there. "oh! come in, major," he said, in a low tone, throwing open the door. "come in." "is mclean asleep?" whispered the major. "i--i don't want to disturb him. i only wanted to inquire." "not asleep, sir, but lying in a sort of doze. weeks is trying to fight off fever." "i know; i understand. it may be several days before he'll be well enough to--to talk, won't it?" and the major gazed keenly into hatton's eyes, and hatton plainly saw the trouble in his commander's face. "i fear it may, sir. weeks says he must be kept quiet and free from worry of any kind." the major paused, irresolute. he took off his forage-cap and mopped his brow with his handkerchief, then stood there twisting the cap in his hands. he looked down the dim hall-way, then through the crack of the door, then down at his boots, and all the time hatton stood there holding wide open the door, yet hoping and praying he would not come in. something told the lieutenant that the matter so plainly worrying the commanding officer was one neither he nor mclean could speak of if it could possibly be helped. but miller was in sore trouble, and he could not stand alone. "hatton!" he muttered, impulsively, "is the nurse there? can you come out with me? i--i have heard something that gives me a world of concern, something i must ask you about. i can't talk of it here. sick men's ears are sometimes far more acute than those of their sound and healthy brothers. can you come now?" "i am alone with mac just now, sir. i sent the attendant down to the post-office and the store. he had been cooped up all day, and was grateful for a little fresh air. when he returns----" and hatton stopped vaguely. he knew it might be an hour before the man got back. that would give him time to think. "well. that will have to do. come to my quarters then, and, if a lot of women are there, you--you say you want to see me about something,--anything,--and i'll come out. i don't want them to dream i'm investigating anything." and here the major stopped uneasily and glanced up-stairs; then looked inquiringly at hatton. "who's up there?" he asked. "no one, sir, to my knowledge. blunt's door is closed and he is sleeping. weeks was there not ten minutes since, and stopped to see me on the way down. why do you ask?" "why, i thought i heard something,--a woman's dress and light footfall. i even thought i saw a shadow at the head of the stairs." hatton's heart gave a great thump, and he felt his face glowing under his commander's gaze, but he answered steadily. "it is possible, sir. mrs. post and miss forrest both have been coming along the upper gallery frequently, bringing things to both blunt and mclean. mrs. post comes over to inquire every hour or so, and they tiptoe in and out as light as a kitten. shall i run up and see?" "oh, no,--no! if that's the explanation, it is simple enough. no, i'm all upset. i--i fancied there was some one listening. come to me as soon as you can, hatton. by the way, have you heard from mr. holmes?" "no, sir. he was called suddenly to the ranch, and i presume he is there." "i know, i know. but did he see mclean before he left?" "see him! yes, sir; but that's about all he could do. mclean was in no condition to receive visitors, and weeks hustled him out somewhat unceremoniously." "well. that's all, just now. i'll expect you soon after tattoo." "very good, sir." and then the major went away, closing the hall-door after him. hatton stood there a moment as though rooted to the spot, his brow moistening with beads of sweat that seemed starting from every pore. despite his secrecy, then, despite mclean's destruction of the evidence of her visit the night of the disappearance of their property, despite their determination to shield the sister of an absent comrade from suspicion, or disgrace, in some way the story must have gotten around. possibly there were other thefts of which he knew nothing, in which suspicion had pointed to her. possibly the vague confessions, implicating no one, which he had made to mrs. miller, taken in connection with events of which he had no knowledge, had proved sufficient to weave a chain of circumstantial evidence about her; and now the commanding officer was aroused, and was coming down on him, and poor mac yonder, for full details of their losses and their knowledge of the affair. he would give anything to secure the postponement of that dreaded interview until he could talk over matters with his comrade, but when would that be a possibility? just as soon as the attendant returned, he must go to his commander, and either make a clean breast of it or refuse to utter a word. what course would he ask or expect of a comrade if it were his, hatton's, sister, who was here alone and defenceless? by heaven, mclean was right! they must shield her, so far as shield of theirs could serve, until forrest himself could come to be her adviser and protector. then he, too, stopped, listened, and looked up the stairs. then he, too, started, but with a start to which the major's sudden turn was a mere languid gesture. hardly could he believe his eyes; hardly could he trust his reeling senses, but it was she,--fanny forrest,--not standing at the head of the stairs, but coming swiftly down upon him, her finger at her lips, her other hand gathering her skirts so that they should make as little rustle as possible as she swooped quickly down the stairs. another instant, and she was at his side, her eyes gleaming like fiery coals, her face burning, her lips firm, set, and determined. he was too much startled to speak. it was she who broke the silence, in words clear-cut and distinct yet soft and low. "mr. hatton, i saw your major coming here. i have heard within two days more than you know. i know why he wishes to see you to-night, and--yes, i listened. there is more at stake than you dream of. now, i hasten to you; there is no time to explain,--no time to answer questions. if you would save a friend from wrong or ruin, don't go near major miller to-night. i adjure you, find some excuse. i'll find one for you, if it is only to delay that attendant; but mark what i say, don't go near major miller to-night, or tell him what you know until mr. holmes returns. i--i've sent for him. will you promise?" "promise!" he utters, slowly, a dazed look in his eyes. "good god, miss forrest! i would do anything in my power for captain forrest's sister, and for him; but if--if this thing is known, what can my silence avail?" "never mind captain forrest or captain forrest's sister! this is vital! do you promise? it is only for a day. mr. holmes will be here in twenty-four hours." "what can his coming or going--pardon me! but i'm at a loss to see how he is in any way concerned." a manly step was heard on the porch without. she turned a glance of terror at the hall-door and flew to spring the latch, but the step went on toward the south hall. "it is the doctor," she said, falteringly. "he is going to our quarters, and i must hurry back the way i came. mr. hatton, tell no one i came to you here; and, as for the rest, i implore you to be guided by what i say. one thing more,"--she whipped from her pocket a white silk handkerchief. "put this back among his,--not on top, but anywhere among them otherwise." and, thrusting the soft fabric into his hand, without another word she flew up the old wooden stairs, her skirts rushing and "swishing" over the floor, her slippered feet twinkling over the rickety flight, light as kittens, swift as terriers; and in an instant she was through the upper hall, out on the gallery, and beyond sight and hearing. a few moments, dazed and confounded, hatton stood there gazing vacantly after her. then he thought he heard mclean's voice, and entering found him propped on his elbow, a queer look on his face. "hat, there are spooks in this old rookery. i could have sworn i heard a woman's dress and a woman's footfalls on those creaking stairs just now. has any one been in here?" "n--no one, mac." "gad! i'm not dreaming. it sounded just as it did the night--the night that thing happened. you know, hat." xii. just at tattoo that evening mrs. miller was smitten with a sudden desire to go over and see nellie bayard. the child hadn't been out of the house, she explained, since "the grays" started for the fray down the platte, taking randall mclean with them. she longed to see her and learn from her lips how matters were going at home. she wondered if nellie knew how her father was devoting himself to the forrests; she wondered if the gentle and obedient daughter would not rebel at the idea of such a possibility as his becoming seriously attached to miss forrest. she had indulged the major in one very plain and startling dissertation on the subject of that young woman, from the effects of which he was still suffering; but, worst of all, her motherly heart longed to acquire, through nellie's words, looks, or actions, some idea as to whether she really cared for her pet among all the lieutenants. of course nellie liked--but did she love him? of mclean's deep-rooted regard for the shy and sensitive little maiden, mrs. miller had not the shadow of a doubt. nellie had no one, she argued, to be a mother to her in this troublesome time, and yet she was beginning to feel a species of jealousy in the knowledge that the bruces and the gordons and other good garrison people--maid and matron--had been seen going continually to and from the doctor's quarters. mrs. miller thought she had a prior claim on the confidences of the doctor's pretty daughter, and did not relish it that others should possibly be before her. oddly enough there was no one calling on this night of nights; the major had been out, ostensibly to attend to business at the office, but something told her he was seeking information as to the array of circumstances pointing to the fact that there was further evidence against miss forrest. the bugles were sounding the call through the stillness of the early summer night, though at laramie summer seemed yet far away, when she heard him coming heavily up the steps to the piazza. well the good lady knew by the very cadence of his footfalls just what mood possessed him. it was slow, draggy, spiritless to-night; and, though he had almost angrily and contemptuously checked her when she began the story of these later revelations, her heart yearned over him now. she went down to him, as he sat there looking drearily out at the twinkling lights across the parade. "come, major," she said, addressing him, as was a fancy of hers at times, by the formal army title instead of the christian name. "come; i'm going over to the doctor's to see how nellie is to-night; and, not that i need an escort, i want your company. a glass of his old madeira will do you good, and he is always so glad to offer it. you are blue to-night, and so am i. come." he resisted faintly. hatton might be along any moment, and he had an appointment with him, he said; but she speedily settled that by calling the orderly, and telling him, should mr. hatton call, to come over at once to dr. bayard's and let the major know. then her obedient lord had no further objections to urge, and he, too, had bethought him of the doctor's madeira and those incomparable regalia britannicas. nowhere in wyoming were there cigars to match bayard's, and it was easy to persuade himself that he could so much better deliberate on the matter in hand over the fragrance of the soothing havana. robert threw open the door in hospitable virginian style at sight of the commandant and his wife, ushered them into the parlor, sent the maid up-stairs to inquire if miss elinor could see mrs. miller; and then, true to his southern training, reappeared in the parlor with a decanter of wine and some flaky "angels' food" upon a silver salver. the doctor had gone to the hospital, he explained, but would soon return. then he vanished. miller smacked his lips over the madeira, and smilingly admitted to his better half that he believed there were some things on which "her head was leveller than his." for a reply she pointed to the hall-way. "come here just one moment. i want you to see where i stood, and how i could view what was going on at the hat-rack out there." silently he stood by her side, glanced at the mirror, and noted the reflection therein. "it was just there his beautiful fur coat was hanging,--and the money in its pocket," she said. then came the message from aloft, that, if mrs. miller would step up-stairs, miss bayard would be glad to see her,--miss bruce was already there; and so the major was left alone. he sat some five minutes looking over an album or two, poured out and drank another glass of wine, and bethought him that bayard had told him if ever he felt like smoking to go right into his study and help himself. now was the very time. a dozen strides brought him to the broad-topped library-table littered with books, pamphlets, papers of all kinds, and among them the inviting-looking brown box. another moment, and, ensconced in the big easy-chair, with a fragrant regalia between his lips and a late new york paper in his hand, the major was forgetting the perplexities of the day. the reading-lamp he found lighted threw a bright glow upon the paper in his hand, but left the apartment in darkness. out in the kitchen he could faintly hear the voices of the domestics and the sound of crockery and glass in process of cleaning, above-stairs the murmur of softer tongues. all in the front part of the house on the first floor was silent. presently, out on the parade the bugler began to sound the signal, "taps," to extinguish lights, and at the same moment miller heard the click of the latch at the front door. there had been no footsteps that he could hear, and he thought he might be mistaken. he listened intently, and presently click, click, it went again. odd, thought miller. that is not the way a man enters his own house, nor does it sound like the way an honest man enters any one else's. click, click, again, louder and more forcibly now. some one was plainly trying to open that door without attracting the attention of the occupants. what if now he should be able to surprise the prowler? what if this should, indeed, prove to be some one bent on larceny or worse? now was an excellent time. the doctor was known to be away,--over at the hospital. miss bayard was known to be up-stairs, confined to her room. very probably the thief had watched the movements of the post surgeon, knew he would be detained some time, and--there were all those pretty nicknacks in the parlor. there was that handsome silver in the dining-room (it was always in the doctor's strong box under the bed at night). what more likely than that now was the time selected by some sharp sneak-thief in the garrison to slink through the shadows of the night to the doctor's quarters, slip in the front way while the servants were all chattering and laughing in the kitchen in the rear, and make off with his plunder? it was an inspiration. miller's heart fairly bounded at the thought. if the thief could enter now, he could have entered before,--the night of the dinner. by jove! did he not recall that sudden gust of cold air that swept from the hall in the midst of the doctor's story? click, click, snap! at it again, and no mistake this time. quickly and on tiptoe the major stole toward the hall where he could see the front door. it was his hope, his belief now, that the thief would speedily effect an entrance; and from the darkness of his lair the major could see and identify him, let him in, follow him on tiptoe to the dining-room, there seize and confound him in the very act, and so, fastening the crime on some one guilty man, dispel at once and for all the cloud of suspicion that hovered over a woman's fair fame. click, click, again. what was the matter? would the stubborn lock not yield? or was this a 'prentice hand, and his tools unsuited to the job? in his wild impatience he could have rushed to the door and hurled it open, but that would have only spoiled the game. he could have caught his prowler, but proved nothing. no, patience! patience! a burst of jolly ethiopian laughter from the distant kitchen drowned for a moment other sounds and possibly unnerved the operator at the door. did he hear quick, light footsteps hurrying away? there was a broad "stoop" there, quite a wide veranda in fact, since the unsightly wooden storm-door had been removed. for an instant he certainly thought he heard scurrying footfalls. not the steps themselves, but the creak of the dry woodwork underneath them. he listened intently another moment, but the attempt had apparently been abandoned. then--there it was again. surely he heard a light footfall on the steps,--on the piazza itself. he could bear the suspense no longer, and, springing into the hall where the hanging lamp shed its broad glare over every object, hurled open the door,--and recoiled in mingling agony and horror. god of heaven! there stood fanny forrest! "major miller!" she gasped, affrighted at his vehemence and the ghastly look with which he greeted her. "how--how you startled me! why, what has happened? where were you going in such--why, major--what is the matter?" and now there was something imperious in the demand. for all answer he could only pass his hand over his quivering face in a dazed, dumb sort of way a moment. then, rallying suddenly, he stepped forward, giving his head a shake and striving to be cool and calm. "you are more startled than i, miss forrest. i never thought to find you at that door." "and why not me? i have not seen nellie since her illness, and came over at taps to inquire if she would not receive me a moment." "why--why didn't you ring?" he hoarsely asked. "ring! what opportunity had i? my foot had hardly touched the piazza before the door opened in my face and revealed you looking--well, pardon me, major miller--as if you had suddenly encountered a ghost." "do you mean you have only just come?" he asked. "certainly." "and you saw no one? there was no one here as you came in the gate?" "not a soul,--stop a minute though,--there was something----" "pray, what are you talking about, major miller, and to whom are you talking?" queried the voice of his better half at this very instant; and before he could respond there came through the gate-way and up the steps the debonair, portly doctor. "what!" exclaimed bayard. "miss forrest! ah, you truant, we've been wondering where you were, your sister and i. ah, major!--mrs. miller. why, this is delightful! now indeed am i welcome home! come right into my parlor, said the--but i'm no spider. come, miss forrest, i know you want to see my little girl,--i left jeannie bruce with her. major, you and i want a glass of madeira and mrs. miller to bless the occasion, and then we all want some music, don't we? come in, and welcome." and so, half urging, half pushing, half leading, the doctor swept his trio of visitors into the parlor. despite her start at miller's appearance at the door, despite his preoccupation and gloom, which several glasses of the doctor's good wine failed to dissipate, miss forrest remained after a brief visit to the invalid up-stairs and, saying that she had promised nellie, sang to them witchingly again and again. but that night, despatches flashed in from fetterman that gave the major another turn. the telegraph operator himself came running up with the message just as the party at the doctor's (considerably augmented by this time by new-comers drawn thither by miss forrest's voice) was breaking up for the night. indians had appeared in great numbers along the north platte, threatening the road connecting the two posts, and a train had been attacked and burned midway between them. terry and his hard-worked grays were ready in an hour to take the trail, but there were no young gallants to ride forth this time. hatton, indeed, offered his services, but was told he could not be spared. morning brought tidings that the war-parties were seen only seven miles away at sunrise; and in the presence of the common foe the major, for the time being, put aside the matter weighing so heavily on his mind, but not for a moment could he forget her startled face as he threw open that door. it was time indeed to look the situation squarely through and through. it might be necessary to send for forrest. another day brought with it a strong column of cavalry hastening up from the railway at cheyenne, and these troops were to be fully provided with rations and ammunition before setting forth toward the black hills, whither they were ordered. it was bustle and business for everybody. the major said no more to hatton on the subject of the interrupted interview; but on the second day, as mclean was lying languidly in his bed, listening to the sounds of hoofs and heels without, and bemoaning his fate that he was to be bedridden here when such stirring times were ahead, his soldier servant came noiselessly to ask the lieutenant's permission to step out a little while to see some friends in the cavalry. the attendant was seated in the front room, so the permission was readily granted. "is there anything the lieutenant wants, sir, before i go?" "nothing except a handkerchief. give me one of those silk ones in this corner of the drawer. they are softer." the man handed the topmost of the pile, and went noiselessly away. mclean shook it open, and a card dropped out upon the coverlet. surprised, he picked it up and slowly read it, perplexity and then symptoms of annoyance showing plainly in his face. twice--thrice he read it through. then, stowing it under his pillow, he began to think. dr. weeks came in before a great while to renew the dressing on his wound, and asked him if he had not been talking too much. "i haven't been talking at all. why do you ask?" "pulse a little quicker than it was. what have you been doing?" "nothing--to speak of. what is there to do but read and think?" "you mustn't get to fretting because you can't go out with every expedition, mac. we all know you'd like it, but you can't have your pie and eat it. you can't get shot in one fight and expect to get into the next. if you'll keep quiet here, i think i can put you in saddle again in a month,--much quicker than i can poor blunt; but you must be patient, especially now that you'll miss hatton. he goes out with the train-guard to-night." "hatton! to-night?" exclaimed the invalid. "there you go again, mac! what a bundle of tow you are, to be sure; i might just as soon touch a match to a magazine." "doctor, tell hatton i want him,--must see him before he goes." "confound it, man, i told him to keep away. why do you want him?" "_because i must_ see him. you'll have a crazy man on your hands if you don't." and weeks decided it best to let this headstrong highlander have his way. that night, in his field-dress and all ready to start, hatton gently came to his comrade's bed-side. "what is it, old man?" he asked. "weeks told me first to slip away without saying good-by,--i'll only be gone a week,--and then hunted me up and said you wanted to see me." mclean looked out in the front room. "send that man away for a while," he said. "now for it," groaned hatton, between his teeth. "something new, and he's got hold of it. how in heaven am i to keep my story to myself?" obediently at a word from hatton, the hospital attendant took his cap and stepped outside. then mclean put forth his hand and took that of the senior lieutenant. "hat, you and i have been good friends, haven't we?" "always, mac." "i've something to ask you. something i must know. you remember the night we burned that handkerchief?" "i should say so." "have you ever seen--have you ever known of her ever being in here--or around here since?" hatton hesitated. "tell me, hat." "i can't tell you, mac. there's been the devil to pay. some other things stolen. miller's got hold of it, and, old man, i'm thankful i'm going, for i'd have to tell what we know." "great god! and forrest two weeks' march away,--least count! see here, hat! to-day i found something among my handkerchiefs--in a missing one that was returned. do you know how it got there?" "yes," slowly. "she herself gave it to me and asked me to put it there." "you don't mean it! how could she, without exciting more suspicion? she must have known it would only make you connect her with what had happened here." "mac,--old man; it's no use! i can't keep it back from you. why! she was reckless of anything i might think. it has gone far beyond suspicion. it is certainty. she was on the watch the night miller came here for me. it was her dress--her steps you heard in the hall. it may be kleptomania,--god knows; but whatever it is, she threw off all disguise. she listened to miller's orders that i should come to him at tattoo; and then, the moment he was gone, down she flew to where i stood there at the door, and implored me, mac, as i would save her from disgrace and ruin not to go--not to tell him." "and she was not out of her mind?" "she is as sane as you or i, mac, except on that one thing." xiii. for several days after hatton's sudden departure lieutenant mclean was worse. high fever had set in, and dr. weeks hardly knew how to account for it. mrs. miller, kind soul, had begged to be allowed to come over and help nurse him, and was more than perplexed when, having easily obtained the approval of the post surgeon, she was met by a most embarrassed but earnest negative on the part of his assistant. as weeks was in charge of the case, dr. bayard's sense of professional etiquette would not permit of his opposing his junior in the matter, but did not prevent his expressing himself as surprised and annoyed at what he termed a slight to the wife of the commanding officer. the lady herself could not refrain from telling her husband and making some trenchant criticisms at the expense of the younger physician; and, as a result of her remarks, old miller decided to do a thing to which, hitherto, he had always declared himself averse,--namely, to require of his surgical staff a defence of their policy in the matter. he would not do this formally or officially, but he meant to ask dr. bayard at once what possible objection there could be to mrs. miller's looking in on the young officer and doing what she could to promote his comfort. she was welcome to go to blunt's bedside, she told him, and mr. blunt's wounds were of a more severe character than those of the young infantryman, whom she was virtually forbidden to see. miller's honest heart was filled full of perplexities and cares at this time, and the best of men are apt to be a trifle irritable under such conditions. his brow was moody and his step more energetic than usual, as he sallied forth in search of his senior surgeon, this bright sunshiny morning. no one was on the bayards' piazza, but the front door was open, and, hearing subdued voices in the parlor, he ventured to step inside and tap at the inner door which also stood ajar. it was at once thrown wide open by janet bruce, whose bonnie face lighted up with pleasure at sight of him; she had always been a favorite of his from the days when she was a romping maid in short dresses. "why, major miller! come right in. nellie will be so glad to see you." "what! is nellie here?" he asked, and stepping into the parlor, the gloom vanishing from his face at sight of those smiling eyes, he marched over to the sofa where elinor lay, holding forth to him a white and fragile hand. "why, bless your heart, little lady! i'm rejoiced to see you down-stairs again," he cheerily said. "we've all been in the dumps ever since you were taken ill and remanded to bed. and now i suppose you and janet here have been condoling with each other. with mclean invalided and hatton on the war-path, i fear me you two young women have been indulging in tears. hah! blushing? well, well, i only wish i were mac or hatton either. enviable fellows, both of them, to have two such pretty girls in mourning for their mishaps. but all the same, don't you lose your hearts to those boys; neither of 'em is worth it." and the major chuckled at the idea of being quizzical and arch. "indeed, major miller," retorted miss bruce, with reddening cheeks and spirited mien. "we're not in mourning at all, though i'm not a whit ashamed of my anxiety about our friends; but as for calling them boys, mr. hatton is ten years older than you were when you were married,--mrs. miller told me so,--and mr. mclean has been too many years in the service to be spoken of disparagingly. have you heard how he is this morning?" she asked, with a sudden change from rebuke to anxious inquiry, flashing a quick glance at his half-averted face as she questioned. "not for two hours. i had hoped to find dr. bayard here. do you know where he is, miss nellie?" "he said he was going to the hospital, major," was the hesitant reply, "but i think he stopped at bedlam,--at mrs. forrest's, perhaps." "ah--yes, i remember. mrs. forrest does not get well rapidly. has miss forrest been over to see you since you came down-stairs?" "she called, but papa had desired me to keep very quiet. janet was reading to me, and she went to the door and saw her." the major decided to press the question no further. something in the manner of both girls told him the subject was hardly congenial. he remained a few moments chatting with them, and noted with paternal solicitude the languor and lack of interest in nellie bayard's drooping eyes and the unmistakable signs of anxiety and trouble in her sweet face. "my wife is right," he muttered to himself; "she always is, in such things at least,"--for with masculine perversity he could not vouchsafe a sweeping verdict as to a woman's infallibility. "there is small chance here for holmes," he mentally added. "i only wish young mclean were out of his troubles." and the doctor's hearty voice was heard without, and the tread of feet, and the next moment bayard was in the hall-way eagerly welcoming a visitor. miller saw the glance that passed between the girls and the instant cloud of distress that overspread nellie's face. it was roswell holmes again. "why! when did you get back?" exclaimed the major, rising. "we had no idea of this. i supposed you would go direct to cheyenne from the ranch." "it was my intention, major," answered mr. holmes, with grave courtesy, "but letters i received made it preferable that i should come back here, and the doctor kindly gives me an abiding-place. excuse me," and he passed the major by and went on and bent over the sofa and took miss bayard's hand and greeted her with tender intonation in every word, even while he bowed pleasantly to miss bruce. "quite a surprise, wasn't it?" asked dr. bayard from the door-way. "major, i'm glad to see you here this morning, and no doubt nellie welcomed you, though she isn't able to play the hostess just yet. we'll have her up and about in a day or two, though. holmes, old fellow, you can safely hang your traps in the hall now. i've had that latch tinkered up since the night--the night of the dinner. whoever opened it that night will get fooled on it the next time he tries. i had quite a row with robert about it, and the conceit was taken out of him not a little." "why, how was this, doctor?" asked miller, with immediate interest. "i had not heard. are there--have there been any new developments?" and lowering his voice as he asked, the major drew the post surgeon into the hall-way. "nothing of consequence, major. of course we all felt uncomfortable when it was known that holmes had lost a porte-monnaie from his overcoat-pocket as it hung here on the rack that night. though he protests there was nothing in it, the thing might have been serious. you remember you thought the hall-door had been opened during our dinner. i believe i was telling some story or other at the time,--bad habit of mine,--and we sent robert out to look. he came back and said it was tight shut, and couldn't have been open, because he had fixed it so that the latch could not be turned from outside. but holmes showed us next day that it could be." "then you think it had been tampered with,--that some garrison sneak-thief had got in?" "well, that's what holmes says and what robert stoutly maintains, though you can't see a scratch or a mark or anything to indicate that such means had been used. no, major," and the doctor shook his head ominiously. "i--i have another theory, but it's one too shadowy, too unsubstantial to speak of. it is nothing but suspicion." and miller would not ask him what it was. well knowing how the doctor had been devoting himself to miss forrest, it was with nothing short of amaze that the old soldier now heard him speak. after all his wife had told him, whom could bayard mean but the queen of bedlam? abruptly the major changed the subject, even while thinking how in his own experience he had had recent opportunity to realize the truth of what the doctor said. somebody had indeed "got fooled on that latch" the night he sat there in the dim light of the doctor's library,--somebody who evidently expected to enter as readily as before, and had worked ineffectually for several minutes before abandoning the attempt, and then only to be caught in the act and unblushingly to repudiate the same. "bayard," said the major, "i am the last man to interfere in the details of my subordinates' management of affairs, but there's a matter i want to ask you about while we are out here. what is the reason dr. weeks refuses to let mrs. miller go in and see mclean? she has been always very fond of him, and naturally wants to be of service now. of course, if there be any good and sufficient reason, i've nothing to say, but i think i've a right to know." bayard hesitated a moment. "come out here on the piazza, major," he presently said. "i don't want them to hear in the parlor." and together the two officers walked over to the wooden railing and stood there looking at each other. it was evident to the post commander in an instant that what his surgeon had to tell was something of no little importance and something, furthermore, that he shrank from mentioning. bayard's eyes fell before the major's earnest and troubled gaze; he was plainly studying how to put his information fairly and without prejudice. suddenly he looked up. "first, while we are on the subject, let me finish about this latch business, major. it is not entirely--entirely irrelevant to the other matter. you see i had to tell robert why we made such particular inquiries about the door. now the boy has been with me for years, and came to me with a most unblemished character. why, he was body-servant for the adjutant and quartermaster of the first artillery in the lively old days at fort hamilton, and had unlimited opportunities for peculation; but those gentlemen said he was simply above suspicion. but he is sensitive, and it worried him fearfully lest mr. holmes should think he or some of his assistants in the kitchen had been searching those pockets. now it was simply on his account--to convince him it was somebody from outside that surreptitiously entered the hall while we were all at dinner--that holmes took the trouble to test the latch, and with a little bit of stiff wire he showed us how robert's device could be circumvented." "and holmes has no doubt it was so accomplished?" asked the major, tentatively. bayard looked embarrassed. "i cannot say just what he does think, major, because he utterly refuses to speak of it. he said it was absurd to make such an ado about nothing, and declared he would be seriously annoyed if i pursued the subject." "but you admit you have a theory of your own?" and miller keenly eyed his medical officer as though striving to read beneath that smooth and polished surface. "i have what might be called an hypothesis, a vague theory, and a suspicion that would be entirely intangible but for one or two little things that have recently come to my knowledge." "and those little things point to an inmate of the garrison, do they not?" asked miller, with as much nonchalance as he could assume. "i fear so," was the doctor's answer. "but you asked why mrs. miller was urged not to come to mr. mclean's room just yet; that is the way weeks put it to me when i overhauled him, which i did at the moment the matter came to my ears. rest assured i was quite as ready to take umbrage at his action,--more so, rather, than you could have been. but, major, could you have heard his explanation, you yourself would have been the first to say no one but his physician should be allowed to stay there. weeks even sent the hospital nurse away, and sat up with him all night himself." "has he been delirious?" "yes, and in his delirium he has been talking of things that have completely stampeded poor weeks. of course he could not give me the faintest inkling of what they were, and i would not ask; but they were of such a character that they should be treated as sacred confidences, and weeks said to me that no court-martial could drag them from his lips. he would resign first. it was for fear his patient might continue the subject in her presence that weeks begged mrs. miller not to think of coming to nurse him yet awhile. he assures me that the moment the fever subsides he will be glad to have her aid, for he looks worn-out now. were not his reasons cogent?" miller bowed his head. "i had not thought of this," he said; "mrs. miller will be as sorry as i am to hear of it, and, of course, she will appreciate the reasons. did weeks tell you when this delirium began?" "the night after hatton left, or, rather, very early in the morning of the next day. he had been alarmed at mclean's symptoms during the evening, and ordered the nurse to wake him if he saw any indications of delirium. the man came to him at three in the morning and said the lieutenant was wild. weeks went over at once,--and ten minutes after he got there he sent the attendant away, and shut himself up with his patient." the major pondered a moment. "is the man close-mouthed? do you think he could have heard much of anything before he was sent away?" "i know very little about him. he is a member of captain bruce's company and very much attached to the lieutenant; so i infer from what weeks tells me. even if he had heard anything that ought not to leak out, it is not likely this particular man would betray it; he would say nothing that might ever harm mclean." "well, no! not mclean, perhaps. very possibly he might not know how it would harm him to have his ravings repeated. i was thinking--i could not help thinking--that mac had been talking about--these recent thefts in garrison." "and there have been more than this one at our house?" asked the doctor, with concern and surprise mingled in his handsome face. "yes, two or three more, i regret to say, but i have not full particulars yet and cannot speak of them." bayard clasped his hands with one of the melodramatic gestures so peculiar to him. "my god!" he muttered. "it was bad enough as i supposed it, but i had no idea it had come to such a pass as this." "bayard," said the major, after a moment of earnest thought, "this is a matter that must be handled with the utmost care and circumspection. not a vestige of suspicion must be permitted to circulate if we can prevent it. i have strictly enjoined secrecy upon my--my informant, and i desire you to regard this talk as confidential. tell weeks i appreciate and sustain him in this caution and thank him for his efforts to stifle any possible scandal. poor mac! the youngster would be horror-stricken if he knew what secrets he had been blabbing." "his troubles must have been weighing on his mind a long time," said the doctor, "and yet i never suspected it. i don't know that i ever saw a blither young fellow until about the time the finding of that board of survey was announced. he didn't seem to expect that at all." "well,--neither did i. of course, technically it had to go against him, but we never dreamed it would result in stoppage of his pay." "and yet his funds were all right, i'm told," said the doctor, musingly. "one would suppose that if he had any tendencies that way they would have cropped out when he had so much public money passing through his hands." "tendencies what way, doctor? i don't follow you." "why, in the way these--these little thefts and his delirious utterances would seem to indicate," said bayard, hesitatingly. miller fairly sprang up from the rail on which he was leaning, his eyes distended with wonderment and pain. "in god's name, bayard, what are you talking about?" he gasped. "about this sad case of mclean's, major, as i supposed you were." "you don't mean that your theory involves him? you don't mean it--it is of himself, of his connection with these thefts, that he has been telling in his delirium?" "why, major miller, i supposed of course you understood--i--i, of course, accuse nobody, but of whom could he have been talking about but himself? that was certainly my understanding of it." for one moment the old major stood there looking into the staff-officer's eyes,--amaze, consternation, distress, all mingled in his florid, weather-beaten face. then without a word he turned and stumbled away down the steps and hurried from the gate. the trim, spruce orderly, standing on the walk without, raised his gloved hand in salute and stood attention as the commanding officer passed him, then "fell in" ten paces behind and followed in his tracks. but for once in his life the major neither saw nor returned a soldier's respectful salutation. xiv. the fever had left him, and randall mclean, very white and "peaked" looking, was sitting propped up in bed and enjoying the wine-jelly mrs. miller had brought with her own hands. she had hoped to find him in better spirits, and was distressed to see how downcast and listless he was. just what evil spell had fallen upon the garrison mrs. miller could not explain. the major for two or three days had been utterly unlike himself, and would give her no good reason. the cavalry battalion that had reached the post and gone into camp down on the flats to the north was almost ready to push on toward the black hills, and though she had twice reminded him that he ought at least to invite the field and staff officers to dinner, her usually social spouse had declined, saying he felt utterly unequal to it. the lethargy and gloom at post "head-quarters" seemed to pervade the entire garrison. nobody felt like doing anything to dispel it. the band played blithely enough at guard-mounting and again in the sunshiny afternoons, but nobody came out and danced on the broad piazzas as used to be the way at laramie. nellie bayard was beginning to sit out on the veranda in a big easy-chair with janet bruce as her constant companion, and the gordon girls, those indomitably jolly creatures, as occasional visitors; but as miss kate, the elder, expressed herself, "laramie is nothing but one big hospital now. the women and children are the only able-bodied men in it." nellie was kind and civil, and tried to be cordial to them, but they were "smart" enough to see she had no heart for rattling small talk and crisp comments on matters and things at the post, and much preferred to be left alone to her undisturbed confidential chats with "bonnie jean." blunt was slowly mending, and dr. weeks was having a little rest after an anxious week, when his services were demanded for another patient in bedlam,--no less a person than the queen herself. in view of the fact that dr. bayard was the recognized family physician and had been and was still assiduously attending mrs. forrest, it was considered nothing short of an intentional slight on the young lady's part that she should send for weeks. it was mrs. post who came over to blunt's door when she knew the junior doctor was there, and asked him to come with her and see miss forrest. for two days the latter had been confined to her room refusing to see any physician, and declaring that in mrs. post's ministrations she found all the physic she needed, but now the time seemed to have come when medical aid was really necessary. dr. bayard's face, when he was told by mrs. post that weeks was summoned and in attendance, was a study worth seeing. it was not a serious ailment at all, said mrs. post. miss forrest had caught cold and neglected it, and now the cold had developed into fever, and she had been persuaded to keep in bed for a day or two. but mrs. miller was puzzled over still another matter. the evening of the day mr. holmes so unexpectedly reappeared at laramie, he and miss forrest met on the board-walk near "bedlam," had a few moments' conversation there just before gun-fire at retreat, and then, to the surprise of many lookers-on, she was observed to take his proffered arm, and for over half an hour they strolled around the deserted parade talking earnestly together. it was the hour when most of the garrison families were in the dining-rooms, at dinner or tea as might be the custom of the household; but more than one good lady found it necessary to pop up from the table and go to the front window to see if mr. holmes and miss forrest were still walking and talking together. it was the morning after this mysterious consultation that the cold developed; and those kindly spirits who had promptly decided that the handsome but penniless new york girl was setting her cap to cut out nellie bayard with the chicago millionaire were balked in their hopes of seeing further developments by the circumstance of her keeping her room and not again meeting mr. holmes, who, after two or three days' visit, departed as suddenly and unexpectedly as he came. the presence of a large battalion of cavalry had the effect of warning the indians away from the neighborhood and made travel again comparatively safe. and now, having patted up his pillows and settled him carefully back upon them, mrs. miller had begun the attempt of cheering her "pet lieutenant," as the major had called him. first she strove to rouse his interest by detailing the terms in which captain terry had officially commended his gallantry and zeal in the fight down at royall's ford; but he had heard it all before through dr. weeks, and, though appreciative, he did not beam with the comfort she expected. then she tried to tell him of major miller's warm-hearted and commendatory endorsement in forwarding terry's report; but he had heard of that too; the adjutant had told him about it, and there was nothing new in it. what did it amount to, after all? said mac to himself. what good result can follow? no matter how zealously a fellow may serve in the field,--no matter what dangers he may encounter, hardships he may endure, wounds he may receive, indians he may kill or capture,--in this blessed republican land of ours the principle is too well established that promotion in the line goes only by seniority, and to the staff--like kissing--mainly by favor. not even a "brevet," he well knew, could be won by daring conduct in action against savage foes; and, to sum the matter up in a few words, the men who stood the best chance for advancement in the army were those who studiously avoided excitement of any kind, especially that to be found in western campaigns. they all understood this thing at laramie just as well as he did, and therefore appreciated his soldierly conduct for what it was really worth. "but the major thinks it may be the means of removing that stoppage against your pay, mr. mclean," said mrs. miller. "surely the general will do something to secure recognition or reward." "i fear not, mrs. miller," was the doleful answer; "that is just about the last thing this government of ours is apt to do; what i've got before me is the prospect of having to live for a year or more on 'board wages,' and see my pay raked in month after month to make up for the stealings of a rascal too sharp for any of us even to suspect. it would be hard at any time, but--it's rough now, and no mistake." and poor mac turned his head away as he spoke. there was silence a moment. the womanly heart was touched at his despair and suffering, yet impotent to cheer him. suddenly she bent over him as he lay there, so white and weary looking. "mac, don't, don't worry so. i can't bear to see you troubled. i know--i can't help knowing--what's the matter; and indeed,--indeed i think you have cause to hope rather than despair. did you know he had gone away again?" "yes. weeks told me." "she cares nothing whatever for him. janet bruce is with her all the time, mac, and she told me she almost shrank from him. now, if he were simply her father's friend, she could not but like him. everybody likes him, mac, and i have reason to know what a considerate and thorough gentleman he is. but it is because he has attempted to be more that she has turned against him, and janet says she knows he has seen it and made up his mind to accept it as final. the last two days of his visit he avoided her all the time, only conversed with her when they were unavoidably thrown together, and was then simply bright and laughing and friendly. janet says that nellie seemed inexpressibly relieved by the change in his manner. come, old fellow, cheer up and get well, and let us have you out in the sunshine a day or two, and then we'll see if a few long talks with her won't help matters. she's a child yet, and almost too young to fall in love with anybody. you know she has seen next to nothing of the world." "that is just what stings and torments me so, mrs. miller," answered mclean, with unexpected energy. "that is what weighs upon my heart and soul. she has seen very little of the world. she is young, inexperienced, and motherless. her father does not like me, and i know it, and simply because he saw my deep interest in her, and, having other views, he was determined to break it off in the bud. what possible right have i--poor, friendless, utterly without position or influence, saddled with this mountain of uncontracted debt--to seek to win such a girl as she for my wife? what have i to offer but misfortune and trouble? no, mrs. miller, it is all useless. if i have stood between her and such a future as he could offer her, god forgive me. i did not know the millstone that was to be hung about my neck. i did not dream of his existence. i just drifted in, and now i could pray heaven she hasn't." again he turned away, with something very like a sob in his weak voice, and buried his face in his arm. "mac," she persisted, "i'm not going to sit here and see you accusing yourself of wrong-doing in this way. let me tell you that if she does care for you, and i believe she does, nellie bayard would rather be your wife in one room and a kitchen than live in opulence in new york or chicago. what's more, she would wait for you loyally, faithfully, until you were thoroughly on your feet again, with this debt paid and a little laid by. as for dr. bayard's plans for her, he is worldly enough, of course, to seek such wealth as roswell holmes's for his daughter; but the man himself is changing his mind. you should have seen him devoting himself to miss forrest out here one evening. now, there's a girl who would appreciate his money and spend it for him like a duchess." but mclean was silent. "did you get to know her at all well?" asked mrs. miller presently. "very slightly indeed." "and yet, living in the same building with her, as you and mr. hatton did, i fancied you would see her quite frequently." "i didn't. i believe hat did." "yes--his rooms being up-stairs, and opening on that gallery where she used to promenade so much, it was natural that he should see more of her. it worried jeannie bruce not a little. i never knew whether she cared for mr. hatton or not until miss forrest took to parading up and down in front of his rooms." "hat says she never came as far as his window. she turned about before she reached the hall-door always." "tell me, mac. do you think mr. hatton liked her?" mclean's pale face flushed a little. he felt that questions were trembling on her lips which he did not wish to answer, and the one thing he could not do was equivocate. "i'd rather you'd wait and ask him," he finally said. "oh! i don't mean as he likes janet bruce; what i meant was--well, you or he or both of you--did you feel that you--well--trusted her?" mclean fairly squirmed in his nest under the sheets. this was just the drift he had dreaded. how he wished weeks would come in and tell her they were talking too much and would be sure to throw him into a fever again, but no weeks was to be had; he had gone home for a rest, and probably would not appear again until afternoon. he glanced uneasily into the front room. "no! the hospital attendant is not there, mac. i sent him off on an errand. you need not be afraid of his hearing,--and, besides, he has heard you talk about her. i thought you ought to know." "has heard me talk about her,--miss forrest? what on earth do you mean, mrs. miller?" and now he had turned toward her, his face filled with anxiety and alarm. "don't worry, mac. i found it out instantly. you know he is a married man, and his wife has been my laundress for over five years. you talked about her when you were delirious,--not very much,--nothing--nothing i did not already know; but dr. weeks turned him away and took care of you from the moment lachlan went for him and told him you were talking wild, and of course his wife wormed out of him why he was not needed for two days, and, little by little, what you had said. luckily she came right to me, and i put a stopper on her tongue." "my god! my god! what have i done?" moaned mclean, as he threw his arm over his eyes. "what did i say? what have i revealed, mrs. miller? i must know." "nothing; again i assure you, nothing that we--that is--i--did not already have good cause to suspect and know. it came to me from robinson, mac, before you dreamed of anything of the kind, so you are in no wise responsible. she must have a mania, there's no other explanation for it; but we're going to keep it all quiet. no one is to know until captain forrest gets back at the end of the campaign. then he will be told, and restitution be made. but isn't it dreadful?" for all answer mclean would only shake his head. he was stunned--horrified at thought of the wild revelation he had made. he could not bear to speak of it. yet now he felt that he must know how much he had let fall. "it is the last time that fellow lachlan shall enter this room," he muttered between his teeth. "i'll have weeks send him back to his company this very day." "no, don't blame lachlan. the poor fellow meant no harm. he only told it as evidence of the extremity of your delirium. he does not dream the truth with regard to her, though i fear his wife does. why, mac, if they had not come away from robinson when they did, the whole post would have been in an uproar. things were disappearing all the time,--money and valuables,--and since they left there it has all stopped, but has begun here. you and mr. hatton are not the only losers. mr. holmes confessed to me that his porte-monnaie had been stolen from his fur overcoat the night we were there at the doctor's, and i saw her standing by it, patting it and pretending to admire it; and i know that she has been sending registered letters away, and that bills are constantly coming to her from the east. mrs. griffin told me so. and then mr. hatton--well, you know he has confided in me in ever so many things--he told me a good deal before he went away. no, indeed, mac. it isn't that you have revealed anything i did not know. it is only that i felt you ought to be told of it." but mclean could not be comforted. "who else knows of this?" he presently asked. "i have told the major. we had talked it all over before your illness. mrs. bruce knows, for she too gets letters from robinson. and perhaps there are one or two who suspect, but that is all. mr. hatton is the one who knows most about it all, and has most reason to believe in her guilt. when did you become convinced?" "i don't know,--that night hatton told me, i suppose,--the night the major came to see me, and hatton begged off. you know about it?" "the major told me he had gone to see you about some evidence you had; mr. hatton met him at the door and explained that you were asleep. was that the night you mean, mr. mclean? was that the night that you became convinced that she was the thief?" "that was the night." "but what happened then to convince you? i ought to know. it is far better that i should know than have this cruel half belief." "i--mrs. miller, forgive me, but it is a matter i cannot speak of. hatton and i 'shook hands' on it we would say nothing to any one of our knowledge, and i cannot speak of it. wait until he returns. he ought to be back to-morrow. you know he only went with the guard to the stockade up on sage creek. it's only three days' march. if he will tell you, well and good; but i will not say anything more,--just now, at any rate." there came a quick step along the wooden piazza without, a tap at the door, and dr. weeks peered in. glancing over her shoulder, mrs. miller saw that his face was white,--that he was beckoning to her; and she presently arose and went into the front room. she heard hoof-beats passing the house at a rapid trot. she heard hurrying feet and excited voices, and then the young doctor stretched forth his hand at the door-way and led her into the hall. "stay with mclean as much as you can, and keep this from him if possible. a courier is just in who got through, god knows how, during the night. hatton and his party were corralled yesterday beyond rawhide butte. several of them are killed already. the cavalry start at once, and i go with them." xv. for a man who prided himself on the ease and self-possession which made him so distinguished a feature in society, dr. bayard could not but confess to himself that the sudden orders which sent his assistant away left him in a somewhat embarrassing position. the care of weeks's patients now devolved upon the senior, and among these patients was one who much needed his attention, but whom he shrank from seeing,--randall mclean,--and another whom he greatly desired to attend, but who shrank from seeing him,--miss forrest. mrs. miller was still at the bedside of the former when dr. bayard nerved himself to make the necessary call. to his great relief, the young soldier had fallen into a fitful doze and was unconscious of his presence. mrs. miller, in low tones, described his condition; and the doctor was content to go without other examination, though he left directions with the attendant as to what was to be done when the patient awaked. next he repaired to mrs. forrest's rooms, and was measurably soothed and flattered by her appreciative reception. he bade her pay no attention to the rumors rushing through the post, and dinned into her affrighted ears by celestine, as to the probable fate of hatton and his little command. he pointed out to her, as he had to other ladies whom he had been summoned to attend that gruesome afternoon, that it was not the first time mr. hatton had been "corralled" by the sioux, and that he had always successfully kept them at respectful distance, and his own command under cover, until the rescuers in shape of cavalry could reach the scene. it is true that in this instance the attack seemed to have been fierce and sudden, and the courier gave the names of two men who were killed instantly; but, said he, as that attack was repelled, and hatton lost no time in getting his men into a little hollow, he believed and major miller believed that they could "stand off" the indians indefinitely. the cavalry would certainly reach them early in the morning, and that would be the end of it. forty-two hours wasn't very long compared with other sieges those infantrymen had sustained in escorting trains through the indian country, if they only had water for their wounded, all would go well. there was the main trouble, said the doctor. what with the niobrara and the rawhide and the little streams running into them, and the spring at box elder, close to the road, there was so much water along the route that possibly they had neglected to fill the barrel on their wagon and the canteen carried by each man. if that were the case, and the indians had surrounded them some distance from any spring or stream, then the wounded might, indeed, have to suffer a day or so, but he anticipated nothing worse. he had talked it all over with miller before setting forth on his rounds, and knew just what to say. most women were reassured and rendered hopeful, but mrs. forrest's spirits were at low ebb and she required consolation in double allowance. bayard lingered with her, nothing loath, hoping that miss forrest might come into the family sitting-room to hear his version of affairs at the front. even after mrs. forrest was talked out, and the font of her ready tears was nearly pumped dry, he held his ground, examining maud's and vickie's juvenile tongues and dandling baby hal to that youngster's keen delight. but no one came along the hall whose step sounded like hers, and at last his patience gave out. "and how is miss forrest this afternoon?" he asked. "still confined to her room and bed, doctor, but she says she means to get up and dress this evening. now, do you think it prudent for her to go out in the night air?" "on general principles, mrs. forrest," answered the doctor, slowly and impressively, "i should say no, but i have no knowledge of the merits of this case. you will remember that my services were virtually declined by the young lady in favor of those of the assistant." "i know, doctor, i know. fanny is simply the most incomprehensible creature i ever met. i cannot understand her at all, and it's useless for me to talk to her. i told her that you were the family physician, and pointed out to her that a simple regard for the proprieties ought to show her how much better it would be to call you instead of a gentleman so much younger; but she pays no attention to anything i say. she never has." bayard winced not a little at the invidious comparison on the score of age, but, now that the subject was opened, he desired to "prospect" a little. there was another view to be taken, and one far more flattering to his _amour propre_. probably, in the coyness of a woman who had recognized the lover in his looks and language, miss forrest had tacitly admitted his claim to be regarded as such by summoning another, not a lover, to attend her professionally. if this hypothesis proved correct he would have some grounds for hope. two things, however, he greatly desired to know before taking the plunge. first, was it possible that mr. courtlandt proposed leaving her a lump of his large fortune? second, was it possible that she had already given her heart to another? he well knew that on neither point would miss forrest be confidential with so weak a vessel as her sister-in-law; but, on the other hand,--and the doctor reasoned well,--he felt sure that, in order to reconcile her to having fanny as an inmate of their household, captain forrest had been compelled to tell her why he had withdrawn his sister from such luxurious surroundings in new york and brought her to share his humble fare as a soldier on the far frontier. he had heard from a dozen sources how forrest had almost painfully truckled to his querulous wife; always pleading, explaining, conciliating; always fearful of saying or doing, or leaving unsaid or undone, something, the doing or neglecting of which was sure to wound her sensitive soul and bring on a flood of tears and reproaches. "if she were my wife," said blunt old bruce, "i'd pack her off home to that doting father she's always prating about, and i'd keep her there until she arrived at years of discretion. it is simply pitiful to see a big, stalwart, soldierly fellow like forrest led around by the nose like a ringed bull by that ridiculous and lackadaisical creature." beyond doubt there would have been far more happiness all around if forrest had firmly set down his foot and refused to be longer the victim of her whims and caprices. there would doubtless have been a few days of sore lamentation and despairing appeals to be restored to her father's arms (where she was not at all wanted, that estimable ecclesiastic having only recently taken thereto a successor to her sainted mother); but in the end she would have respected him far more and been happier in obeying him. like many another husband, poor forrest was at times conscious of his duty in the case; but, like most others, shrank from the ordeal. bruce himself, so savagely critical of the weakness of other spouses, was notoriously subservient to the wishes of mrs. bruce; but she never had to resort to tears to accomplish her object, and was thoroughly in unison with her husband in his condemnation of forrest's weakness. "poor, poor fellow!" she was saying to herself this very day. "with such a fool for a wife and such a--such a sharper for a sister!" so confident was bayard of his ground that he had decided, days since, on his plan of attack. he would not ask direct questions, for her husband had doubtless pledged her to secrecy. he would delicately but unhesitatingly speak of miss forrest as though he had full knowledge of her past, and he felt assured that he could read in the patient's face, even in the unlikely event of her silence, whether or no his theories were correct. besides, he had ventured an inquiry or two of an old new york associate and club-fellow, a man who had known the courtlandts well. "we must not judge miss forrest harshly, dear lady," he soothingly remarked, after a moment of deep thought and apparent hesitation. "i confess that i felt a little aggrieved at first when she saw fit to summon dr. weeks despite the fact that i was in the house as your physician two or three times a day; but, after thinking it all over, her motives were apparent and--quite natural. you probably did not know that i was well acquainted with mr. courtlandt, did you?" "no! were you?" asked mrs. forrest, with dilating eyes. "and fanny knew,--and did not tell me----" "yes. we were members of the same club, and i used to see a great deal of him before coming west." it was very long before, and it was only seeing, but bayard did not care to explain this. he wished to convey the idea that his acquaintance with the old gentleman had been recent and confidential, and he succeeded. "how strange that you should be here--where she is. i'm sure captain forrest has no idea of it, doctor. did--did you ever speak with her about--the courtlandts?" "yes, once. of course she did not care to talk of the matter at first. it was only when she found that i knew mr. courtlandt so well, that she became at all communicative." "and did she talk of her affair--of mr. courtlandt--the younger one i mean?" "my dear mrs. forrest! we could hardly expect a young lady to be communicative on such a topic as that. of course there were some things i could not help knowing, and that is why i say we ought not to judge her harshly now. her experience of last year was not calculated to make a girl look upon the world with kindlier eyes, and the contrast between the life she leads now and that she led under her kinsman's roof is enough to dishearten any woman." "i'm sure i do everything i possibly can to make her content and happy," impetuously exclaimed mrs. forrest. "and it's all her own fault if she isn't. she--she needn't have come at all. mr. courtlandt told her and told captain forrest that it should make no difference; but she is self-willed and obstinate, and nothing would do but she must quit his roof forever and come to be a burden on her brother, who has quite enough to stagger under already." ("hum!" thought bayard at this juncture, "how little she realizes the truth of that assertion!") "mr. courtlandt had been devoted to her from her childhood, had lavished everything on her, had educated her, sent her abroad, provided for her in every way, and--she rewarded him by taking this silly prejudice against his son, whom she ought to have had sense enough to know he expected her to marry." bayard's pulse gave a leap, but his fine face made no sign. professional imperturbability alone expressed itself. she paused one instant for breath. then it occurred to her that perhaps she was broadly trenching on forbidden ground and revealing that which her husband had bidden her keep inviolate. bayard read her like an open book, and promptly took the initiative before she could question. "and yet, mrs. forrest, would you have had her--a woman of such superior attainments and character--would your husband have had her marry a man to whom she could not look up?--whose character and, pardon me, whose habits were so, let us say, unsettled?" "then she ought to have left before. i know she says she never dreamed of its being her uncle's plan or hope,--never dreamed that the young man was in earnest. it was all nonsense to say she couldn't marry a man whom she did not look up to and respect. he is only a year younger than she is, and lots of girls marry men younger than themselves,--especially when such a fortune was involved. why! mr. courtlandt would have left them everything he had in the world, if she would only have consented." "but women form their own ideals, dear lady, and she may have had a man in view whom she did look up to, honor, and love. is not that a reasonable theory?" and the doctor's eyes, full of sympathy and deference, watched his impulsive patient narrowly withal. how well he knew her! she fell instantly into the trap. "but she hadn't! i could forgive her easily if that were so, but she told the captain it was purely and simply that she could not and would not marry philip courtlandt or any man like him." "but i fancied from what--from various circumstances--that the young man was very dissipated--dangerously so, in fact. would you counsel your sister to marry such a man?" "well, why not? he has been wild, i know. my husband looked into the whole case, and, of course, he sustains her. phil courtlandt had to go into a retreat once, but i believe it was because she treated him so. his father was sure that she could reform and make a man of him, and he almost implored her to take pity on his gray hairs and save his boy. i tell you i think it was sheer ingratitude. even if she couldn't have reformed him, there would have been all that money." and mrs. forrest sighed pathetically at thought of the thousands her hard-headed, hard-hearted sister had refused. bayard, congratulating himself on his success thus far, had still another point on which he desired information,--a vital point. "what seems so bad about the whole matter," he said, after a sympathetic echo of the lady's sigh, "is the disappointment of old mr. courtlandt. no doubt, despite their cousinship, this has long been his cherished scheme; and it must make him--at least i do not wonder that it makes him a trifle bitter against her." "why, doctor, that is one of the queerest things to me! one would suppose that any girl of ordinary gratitude would try and repay and appreciate such devotion as has been lavished on her. she simply repels people who try to be loving to her. i'm sure i've tried every way in my power. of course, at first he was very bitter and said some severe things,--at least she so told captain forrest,--but she has no right to treasure them up against him. he said he had reared and educated and cherished her purposely to be the salvation of his wayward son, and, as she would not have the son, he said she could not live under his roof. then he had always given her a liberal allowance, besides paying the most extraordinary bills, and she hurt him fearfully--i know she did--by refusing to accept it afterward. he has sent it to her even here, and she almost hurls it back at him,--and here are maud and vickie without a decent dress to their names," wailed mrs. forrest in somewhat irrelevant conclusion, and the tears welled again from her weary eyes. bayard was again silent a moment, waiting for his patient to recover her composure and her tongue. it was comfort to think that, at least, mr. courtlandt's munificence was still a fact. but how about the future? "anything that might tend to widen the breach between them would, of course, be deplorable," he presently said; "but i infer, from the fact that he continues to send her allowance to her, that he will be apt to provide liberally for her in his will." "he would do anything for her, i've no doubt, despite her ingratitude; but she has told captain forrest that after what has passed she cannot and will not accept a penny from him. now what can one say to a girl like that?" and this question the doctor could not answer. after a few moments' thought, he arose as if to go. "i am heartily glad to know that she is so much better this afternoon. these are anxious days for us all, and it is not to be wondered at that so many of our ladies are prostrated. will you kindly say to her that i called to inquire after her, and am rejoiced to think we will soon be able to welcome her out again? and, mrs. forrest, you might say to her that it would gladden my little girl if she would come over and sit with her or sing to her. elinor has been very low-spirited to-day, owing, no doubt, to the fact that jeannie bruce has been in tears much of the time since hatton left. good-afternoon, mrs. forrest. good-by, little ones." and the courtly doctor took his leave. as he descended the stairs with characteristic deliberation and dignity, celestine came forth from the dining-room and met him at the foot of the stairs. "mr. holmes is come, doctor," she said, showing her white teeth. "specks he'll be glad to find miss nellie sittin' up again. t'warn't no use 'n miss fanny t' try to catch him, 'n' i told her so when she was writin' to him. he's out yahnder along with major miller now." and though the doctor frowned majestically and strode by the gabbling hussy without a word, it gave him an uncomfortable start to hear her words. what had happened that fanny forrest should be writing now to roswell holmes? this was something to be looked into. xvi. it was nearly two days before authentic news came in from the niobrara, where hatton's little command had been "corralled." just as at first reported, the indians in overwhelming numbers had suddenly charged down upon the detachment from behind a ridge that lay full half a mile to the east of the road; while others, crouching in a dry watercourse, had picked off the leading soldiers,--the two men thrown out to the front to scout the trail and secure the main body against surprise. hatton, all told, had only twenty men, and the fall of the two far in the advance had for an instant flurried their comrades back at the wagons. there was no time to run these lumbering vehicles, empty though they were, into the familiar, old "prairie fort," in square or circle; but, while some of the teamsters sprang from their saddles and took refuge under their wagons, others seized their arms and joined the soldiers in a sharp fire upon the charging and yelling warriors, with the usual effect of compelling them to veer and wheel and scamper away, still keeping up a lively fusillade of their own. one mule team and wagon went tearing off full tilt across the prairie pursued by a score of jeering, laughing, and exultant braves, and was finally "rounded up" and captured by them a mile away to the west; and hatton had promptly availed himself of the episode to make a rush with his entire party for a little hillock three hundred yards east of the road. he had marked the spot before and knew its possibilities for defence, and there in less than five minutes he had his men sheltered in an oval "dip" along the crest and yet commanding the approaches in every direction. from here they not only successfully "stood off" every attack until dark, but prevented the indians reaching the bodies of the slain and securing the coveted trophy of their scalps, and covered the teamsters who were sent down to unhitch and secure the mules. when night came a half-breed scout slipped away with news of the "corral," and hatton found that two of his men were severely wounded and that few of them had any water in their canteens. the river was full six miles to the south. neither stream nor spring was close at hand, and with characteristic improvidence the teamsters had failed to fill their water-barrels at the stockade before starting. "what was the use, with the niobrara only a few hours' march away?" bitterly did hatton reproach himself for his neglect in having left so important a matter to the men themselves, but there was no sense in fretting over the past. something had to be done at once to provide water for the morrow's siege. they heard the exultant whoops of the savages, who, under cover of the darkness, had crept out and succeeded in scalping the two dead soldiers. they knew that very soon the indians would be crawling out to the wagons in an attempt to run them away or fire them. hatton himself ventured down to examine the water-barrels, and found not more than half a barrel of dirty, brackish, ill-flavored fluid in all. the darkness grew black and impenetrable. heavy clouds overspread the heavens, and a moaning wind crept out of the mountain-passes of the big horn range and came sweeping down across the treeless prairie. every now and then they could hear the galloping beat of pony-hoofs, and knew that they were closely invested in their hillock citadel, and at last, about ten o'clock, a sergeant who had been sent with a couple of men to see what was going on at the wagons, came running back breathless. the wagons were gone! every one of them had been run off by the indians under cover of the wind and darkness; and presently, half a mile over to the south-east, a glare of flame arose, and the white tops became for a moment visible, and dancing, capering naked forms around them, and then the cotton duck attracted the eager, fiery tongues, and in another moment the flames seemed to leap high in the air, but the performers in the aboriginal ballet scurried for shelter. the soldiers sighted their rifles for nine hundred yards, and the little hill blazed and sputtered half a minute with a rapid discharge that sent leaden messengers whistling through the burning wagon-covers and humming about the ears of the revellers. fifteen minutes later, hatton resolved on a bold move. mounting his wounded men on mules, and leading his little party, soldiers, teamsters, and quadrupeds, he slipped away from the hillock, and, keeping well to the east of the road, groped through the darkness back to the high range overlooking the valleys of "old woman's fork" of the south cheyenne and hat creek to the eastward; and morning found him bivouacked at a little spring not ten miles from the stockade. thither, of course, the indians trailed and followed at daybreak. there again they attacked and besieged and were repulsed, again and again; and there at dawn on the second day, after an all-night march, the trumpets of the cavalry rang the signal of rescue, and the charging troopers sent the sioux whirling in scattered bands over the bold and beautiful upland. the little detachment was safe, but its brave commander was prostrate with a rifle-bullet through the thigh and another in the shoulder. dr. weeks declared it impossible to attempt to move him back to laramie; and in a litter made with lariats and saddle-blankets the men carried their wounded leader back to the stockade at the head of sage creek, and there, wrote weeks, he might have to remain a month, and there, unless otherwise ordered, the other wounded men would remain with him, weeks himself attending them in his improvised field-hospital. major miller and dr. bayard, after brief consultation, had decided that the young surgeon's ideas were sound. the stockade was well guarded and provisioned. medical and surgical supplies were promptly forwarded under strong cavalry escort, and that same day the entire cavalry battalion struck its tents and moved away northward over the route hatton had taken. once more was laramie left with only a handful of men and hardly a company officer for duty. old bruce turned out, despite his rheumatics, and announced that he was game for any garrison service under the circumstances. roswell holmes, who had stowed a box of wine and several boxes of cigars in the supply-wagons, with his compliments to dr. weeks and his patients, and who had remained at laramie instead of going to the front solely because of an odd turn in local events, now declared that he must be considered a brevet second lieutenant, and besought dr. bayard's permission to visit his patient, mr. mclean, to solicit the loan of his uniforms, sword, etc. major miller laughed gleefully at the idea, and all the garrison was beginning to pluck up heart again, for hatton's wounds were pronounced not dangerous, though painful, and all the infantry people were proud of the way he and mclean had upheld the honor of their corps. jeannie bruce and elinor had had long hours of who knows what delicious confidence and tearful exchange of sympathy. mclean was reported doing very well; blunt was improving; miss forrest was taking the air on the gallery. everybody seemed in better spirits, despite a certain constraint and mystery that overhung the garrison,--everybody, with one exception--dr. bayard. "mr. mclean is improving so rapidly that he is able to sit up already and will need his uniform himself," was his response to holmes's laughing suggestion, but both major miller and the gentleman addressed looked at the speaker in surprise. one might have hazarded the assertion that it was a matter of regret to the post surgeon that his patient was on the mend. miller eyed him narrowly. ever since the strange conversation held with the doctor, the post commander had become almost distrustful of his motives. what could he mean by intimating that mclean was the guilty party in these recent mysterious larcenies? what could have put such ideas into his head? for the first time in several days the major was tempted to reopen the subject which he had practically forbidden his wife to mention again. he longed to know what she would say or think if she knew that the surgeon was trying to divert suspicion from miss forrest to the wounded and unsuspecting officer. now that the cavalry had gone out to the front and more troops were marching up from the railway, all anxiety as to his immediate surroundings was dispelled, and the major could not avoid drifting back to the strange complications in which two of the prominent people of his military bailiwick were involved. he had taken a great liking to mr. holmes, and had striven to open the way for that gentleman in case he had the faintest inclination to speak of his losses; but, though the civilian instantly saw what the simple-minded old soldier was aiming at, he changed the subject, and it presently became plain to the commander that he would not speak about the matter at all. miller could not well seek his advice without telling of the other thefts of which he believed mr. holmes to know nothing, and yet he felt that as commanding officer it was his duty to say to the visitor how much he regretted the occurrence and how earnestly he was striving to discover the offender. but holmes would not give him a chance. he was doing a little ferreting on his own account. as for the doctor, two things had conspired to make him blue and unhappy. miss forrest was up and out on her gallery, as has been said, but was never in her sister's room when the doctor called; declined his professional services with courteous thanks and the assurance that no physician was necessary, yet begged to be excused when he sent a message by celestine asking if she would not see him. then he wrote her a note, and, remembering her antipathy to the mulatto girl, he sent it by robert, charging him to take it to her door if she was not in the sitting-room, but to deliver it in person and wait for an answer. robert found her promenading with mrs. post on the upper gallery, and people who had been saying that mrs. post had nothing to do with her at robinson were surprised at the growing intimacy between them now. robert presented the note with a grave and courtly virginia bow, then withdrew to a little distance and respectfully awaited her answer. over at the gordons' a group of ladies, old and young, watched the scene with curious and speculative eyes. everybody knew that miss forrest had declined to see dr. bayard during her illness. everybody had noted that, while the entire feminine element of the garrison flocked to inquire for nellie in her invalid state, nobody went to see fanny forrest. now, what could this strange girl be doing with letters from "dr. chesterfield"? even mrs. post watched her narrowly as she hurriedly read the lines of the doctor's elegant missive. her eyes seemed to dilate, her color heightened and a little frown set itself darkly on her brow; but she looked up brightly after a moment's thought, and spoke kindly and pleasantly to the waiting messenger,-- "there is no answer, at least not now, robert. thank the doctor and tell him i am very much better." and so, empty-handed, he returned to his master, who waited expectant in his study. the message was almost an affront,--such was his pride and self-esteem; and for nearly an hour he sat there pondering over the strange characteristics of the girl who, despite the story of her poverty and dependence, had so fascinated him. it cut him to the quick that she should so avoid him, when he knew well that between her and mr. holmes there had been an exchange of notes. mr. holmes had seen fit to preserve a mysterious silence as to this significant circumstance, and finally, apparently by appointment, mr. holmes had called at bedlam the evening after his arrival, and had enjoyed a long and uninterrupted conversation with miss forrest out on the upper gallery. now what did this portend? it was celestine who gave him this very interesting information as he entered the lower hall, and, despite his repellant mien, that enterprising domestic was sufficiently a judge of character to venture on a low and confidential tone of voice in addressing him. he had scowled malignantly at her and had bidden her hold her peace as he passed her by, but celestine was in no wise dismayed. she knew her man. it was on his return from his visit that he sent his note, and then, in the gloom and silence of his library, pondered over the palpable rebuff. over across the hall he could hear the soft voices of his daughter and her now intimate friend jean. they were cooing and murmuring together in some girlish confidences which he was in no mood to appreciate, and with which he could feel no sympathy whatever. then in came holmes from the sunshine of the parade; and he heard him cheerily enter the parlor, and in hearty, cordial tones announce that he had just come from mr. mclean's room, that that young gentleman was doing finely, and would be able to sit out on the piazza in a day or two, and that mrs. miller was nursing him like a mother. for a time the chat went blithely on, jeannie bruce and holmes being the principals, and then came a message which called that young lassie homeward. presently bayard heard the manly voice growing deeper and softer. the words were indistinguishable, but there was no misjudging the tone, such was the tremor of tenderness of every syllable. faint, far between, and monosyllabic were nellie's replies, but soon the father knew she was answering through her tears. it did not last long. holmes came to the hall, turned and spoke once more to her,--no touch of reproach, no tinge of pleading, but with a ring of manly sympathy and protecting care in every word; bayard could not but hear one sentence: "it makes me only more firmly your friend, little girl,--and his, too." and then he strode forth into the breeze and sunshine again, and no man who met him knew that he had tempted his fate and lost. something had told him, days before, that miss forrest's words were prophetic,--nellie bayard would prefer one nearer her own years. it was to satisfy himself that randall mclean was that enviable somebody that he had sought this interview; and, though she had admitted nothing and he had not questioned, he had read in her tears and blushes a truth that only recently had she tremblingly admitted to herself. now he saw his way clearly to the end. but to bayard the abrupt close of the murmured interview meant a possibility that filled him with double dismay. that one hope should be dashed to earth this morning was an evil sufficient unto the day. that it should be followed by the conviction that his daughter had utterly declined to consider this wealthy and most estimable gentleman as a suitor for her hand was a bitter, bitter disappointment; but that she should have refused roswell holmes, with all his advantages, because of randall mclean--with what?--was more than he could bear. just as she was hurrying to her room, still weeping, he interposed. "my little nell!--my precious!" he cried, in tenderest tones, as he folded her in his arms. "is it so hopeless as this? is it possible that my little daughter's heart has been stolen away--right under my eyes--and i never saw it?" for an answer she only clung to him, hiding her bonny face, weeping the more violently. speak she could not. "nell! nellie!" he pleaded, "try and tell me, dear. you don't know what it means to me! you don't know what fears your silence causes me! my child--tell me--that it isn't mr. mclean." no answer--only closer nestling; only added tears. "nell, my own little one! if you knew with what awful dread i waited! if you knew what this meant to me--to you--to us all! speak to me, daughter. tell me it isn't that unhappy young man." and now, startled, shocked, she lifts her brimming eyes in wonderment to her father's face, gazing at him through the mist of tears. "why unhappy?" she almost gasps. "why--why not mr. mclean, papa?" for a moment bayard stands as though stunned. then slowly relaxes the clasp of his arms and turns drearily away, covering his face with his hands. "my god!" he moans. "this is retribution, this is punishment! blinder than the veriest mole have i been through it all. nellie!" he cries, turning suddenly toward her again as she stands there trembling at his melodramatic misery. "there is no engagement! there has been nothing said, has there? tell me!" "not a word,--from me," she whispers low. "he sent me a little note yesterday through jeannie. indeed, you can see it, papa; but i have not answered. it doesn't ask anything." "then promise me no word shall go, my child! promise me! i cannot tell you why just yet, but he is not the man to whom i could ever consent to give you. my child! my child! his name is clouded; his honor is tarnished; he stands accused of crime. nellie--my god! you must hear it sooner or later." but now she draws away from him and leans upon the balusters, looking into his face as though she doubted his sanity. "father!" she slowly speaks at length, "i could no more believe such a thing of him--than i could of you." a quick, springy step is suddenly heard on the wooden walk without, the rattle of an infantry sword against the steps, an imperative rat-tat-tat at the door. elinor speeds away to hide her flushed cheeks and tearful eyes in the solitude of her room. bayard quickly composes his features to their conventional calm and recedes to the gloom of the library. robert majestically stalks through the hall and opens the door. "dr. bayard in?" asks the brusque voice of the adjutant. "ah, doctor," continues that officer, marching straightway into the den, "major miller is at the gate and on his way to visit mr. mclean. he begs that you will be present at the interview, as it is on a matter of much importance." "very well, mr. adjutant," answers bayard, gravely, as though divining the solemn import of their errand. "i am at your service at once." xvii. an odd despatch was that which went by the single wire of the military telegraph line to fort fetterman late that night. it was known that a small escort would leave that point early in the morning, going through with a staff-officer _en route_ to join the field column now busily engaging the hostile indians along the northern foot-hills of the big horn range. major miller asked the commanding officer at fetterman to hold back a brace of horsemen to await the arrival of a courier just leaving laramie, and bearing an important and confidential letter to the general commanding the department, who was with his troops in the field. it was over eighty miles by the river road; the night was dark and the skies overcast. there might be indians along the route; there certainly were no soldiers, for, with the exception of eight or ten men, all of captain terry's troop were with him scouting on the north side of the platte and over near the sioux reservations. all the same, a single trooper, armed only with the revolver and unburdened by the usual blankets and field kit,--riding almost as light as a racer,--was to make the run and reach fetterman the next afternoon. this was the result of the interview with lieutenant mclean, a conference at which were present major and mrs. miller, dr. bayard, and the adjutant. why mrs. miller, the wife of the commanding officer, should have been present in any capacity, it is not the province of the narrator to defend. she had been assiduously nursing and caring for the young officer in his weak and wounded condition. she had him where he could not escape her shrewd and relentless questionings. she was enabled to tell him much that hatton had told her and a few things she certainly thought he had and therefore said he had. she was further enabled to tell him of the letters from robinson and all they portended; of mr. holmes's loss and what she had seen in the mirror; of her own meeting with miss forrest in the darkness of the doctor's hall; of the registered letters sent away when everybody knew mrs. forrest hadn't a penny except the captain's pay, and that she had openly and repeatedly announced that her sister-in-law had now come to be a burden, too, having quarrelled with her relatives in the east. and so, little by little, she had drawn from mclean the story of hatton's farewell words and the discovery of the card in the handkerchief. then, fortified with this intelligence, and firmly convinced that she could not be mistaken in the guilt of her majesty of bedlam, mrs. miller reopened the subject and prodded the major into immediate action. she meant well. she intended no public exposure, no unnecessary disgrace. she merely wanted that captain forrest should come at once, compel his much-afflicted sister (for, of course, kleptomania was the sole explanation) to make restitution, and then remove her to some safe retreat in the distant east. miller decided to see mclean at once, taking his adjutant to jot down the statements made, and dr. bayard because of his rank in the service and his professional connection with the officer in question. mrs. miller decided to be present because of mclean's great reluctance to tell what he knew and because she conceived it her duty to prompt him; and this was the quartet that swooped down upon the poor fellow in his defenceless condition late that sunshiny afternoon. no wonder his recovery was delayed! the most stunned and bewildered man of the party while the painful interview was in progress was dr. bayard. he had gone in the confident expectation that mclean was to be confronted with the evidences of his guilt, and offered the chance of immediate resignation. his patient was sufficiently removed from the danger-line to enable him to sustain the shock, and he had not interposed. it was too late, therefore, to put an end to matters on that plea when to his horror-stricken ears was revealed the evidence against the woman who had so enthralled and piqued him. miller led him away in a semi-dazed condition after the close of the conference, and then at last the doctor's vehement emotions found tongue. "and all this time you have been suspecting that poor young fellow!" said the major, with a touch of reproach in his voice. there was silence an instant. the doctor stopped short and leaned against the fence in front of the adjutant's quarters, his face purpling with wrath and indignation, his lips twitching, his hands clinched. miller looked at him in amaze, and then came the outburst: "suspect him! by heaven, sir! what it was before is nothing to what i feel now! that in his depravity he should have stolen was bad enough; but that now, to cover his tracks, he should accuse and defame a defenceless woman is infamy! look at his story, and tell me could anything be more pitiful and mendacious? her handkerchief was found in his bureau the night of the robbery. where is the handkerchief now? he burned it! he found a note on a card from her hidden in the handkerchief she had given hatton to replace in the drawer. where is the card? he burned it! he 'purposely destroyed all evidence against her.' a sham quixote! who found her handkerchief in his bureau? who saw the burning? who put the handkerchief in the drawer? who told him of her confession? who heard her beg that you should be delayed in your investigation? who, in fact, is corroborating witness to everything and anything he alleges, but the man he believes, and i believe, you can never reach again. hatton is failing rapidly." "how could he have heard that?" asked miller, with mingled wrath and stupefaction in his face,--wrath at the doctor's contemptuous disregard of all other opinions, and stupefaction at the suddenly presented view of the case. "the attendant, sir, was down at the telegraph office when the news came in, and he had to tell mclean; the latter insisted on being told the truth. weeks fears blood-poisoning, and if that has set in nothing can save him. then where will be your evidence against this most foully wronged lady?" "hush!" exclaimed miller, quickly, with a warning, sidelong glance toward bedlam. "come with me!" and, following his commander's look, the doctor saw, standing close together, leaning on the southern balustrade and gazing down upon them in evident interest and equally evident surprise, fanny forrest and mr. roswell holmes. silently he turned and accompanied the major until he reached his own gateway, and then stopped. "i presume there is nothing further i can do just now, and, with your permission, sir, i will leave you. i want to think this all over." "do so, doctor. and, when you are ready, come and see me. let me only say this to you: you have hardly known mclean at all. we have known him nearly five years, and he has ever been in our eyes the soul of honor and truth." "the soul of honor and truth, sir, would not be writing love-letters and destroying the peace of mind of a young and innocent girl when all he has to offer her is a millstone of debt and a tarnished name." and with this parting-shot the doctor majestically turned away. "so that's where the shoe pinches!" thought miller, as he entered his quarters, where presently he was joined by his excited wife. "he isn't half as prostrated as you thought he'd be," she instantly exclaimed, as she entered the room. "of course it wouldn't be mac if he were not greatly distressed, but i have promised him that not a word shall leak out until captain forrest gets here, and that then he is to see him himself. isn't it dreadful about mr. hatton? can nothing be done?" "i am to see bayard again by and by. this affair has completely unstrung him, for he is evidently deeply smitten; i never dreamed it had gone so far. now that letter must be written to the general, and i am going to the office. you must not know a thing about it, or about this affair. of course you will be besieged with questions." and so the major sallied forth. darkness was settling down. the sunset-gun had been fired just as they left mclean's. by this time the doctor should be entertaining his guest at dinner, and miller wondered how even "chesterfield" would rally to the occasion and preserve his suavity and courtliness after the shock of the last hour. but miller had no idea that it was the last of three shocks that had assailed him in quick succession and with increasing severity that very day, and never dreamed of the gulf of distress in which poor bayard was plunged. he had gone at once to his library and thrown himself in the easy-chair in an attitude of profound dejection, barely paying attention when chloe entered to say that miss nellie begged to be excused from coming down to dinner, as she felt too ill. then robert entered to ask should he serve dinner or wait until mr. holmes came in. "wait!" said bayard, bluntly. but five minutes passed; the dinner would be overdone; so robert slipped out in search of the truant, and miller saw him going over to bedlam. but the upper gallery was empty; mr. holmes and miss forrest had disappeared; the adjutant came striding up from the guard-house, and together the two officers turned away. "orderly," said the major, to the attendant soldier following at his heels, "find sergeant freeman, who is in charge of the cavalry detachment, and tell him i want him at once. then go and get your supper." meantime, realizing that the dinner-hour was at hand, and knowing the punctilious ideas of his host, mr. holmes had somewhat abruptly bidden adieu to the young lady with whom he had been in such interesting conversation. "i must see you again about hatton if possible, and just as soon as i have found out what this means. if all the four were together at mclean's room the mischief is probably done, but i'll see him at once unless it be forbidden." he was turning away without more words, when something in her deep, dark eyes seemed to detain him. he held forth his hand. "miss forrest, i cannot tell you how i appreciate the honor you have done me in this confidence. it may be the means of my making more than one man happy. one word, where is celestine now?" "she should be in the dining-room, setting the table for tea. good-by, then, till tattoo. see him if you can." "indeed i will," he answered, and bowing over the slender, richly-jewelled hand she so frankly placed in his, he slowly released it, and turned away. "in the dining-room, is she?" muttered holmes to himself, as he ran lightly through the hall and down the stairs. "if that was not miss celestine i saw this moment scurrying in from the direction of the wood-piles out yonder, i'm vastly mistaken, and she was talking with a soldier there. i saw the glint of the sunset on the brasses of his forage-cap. i thought they all had to be at retreat roll-call, but this fellow missed it." turning at the foot of the stairs, he strode to the rear door, and looked out through the side-light upon the unpicturesqueness of the yards, the coal- and wood-sheds, the rough, unpainted board fences; the dismantled gate, propped in most inebriate style against its bark-covered post, and clinging thereto with but a single hinge. at this half-closed aperture suddenly appeared the mulatto girl, stopped, turned, gave a quick glance at the various back windows of bedlam, waved her hand to a dim, soldierly form just discernible in the twilight striding toward the northern end of the garrison, then she came scurrying to the door, and burst in, panting. "ah, celestine! that you?" asked holmes, pleasantly. "i thought to find you in the dining-room, and stopped to ask for a glass of water." at sight of him the girl had almost recoiled, but his cheery voice reassured her. "laws, mr. holmes! i done thought 'twas a ghost," she laughed, but turned quickly from him as she spoke and hurried into the dining-room, filling a goblet with a trembling hand. he drank the water leisurely; thanked her, and strolled with his accustomed deliberation through the hall and out across the piazza, never appearing to notice her breathlessness or agitation. once outside the steps, however, his deliberation was cast aside, and with rapid, nervous strides he hastened up the walk,--out past the old ordnance storehouse and the lighted windows of the trader's establishment, turned sharply to the west, and, sure enough, coming toward him was a brisk, dapper, slim-built little soldier in his snugly-fitting undress uniform. holmes stopped short, whipped out his cigar-case and wind-matches, thrust a partaga between his teeth, struck a light as the soldier passed him and the broad glare from the north window fell full upon the dapper shape and well-carried head. there was the natty forage-cap with the gleaming cross-sabres; there was the dark face, there the heavy brows, the glittering black eyes, the moustache and imperial, the close-curling hair, of the very man he had seen peeping into the parlor windows back of mrs. griffin's little post-office the night of his talk with corporal zook. ten minutes later and he was tapping at mclean's door. it was opened by the hospital attendant,--slowly and only a few inches. "can i see the lieutenant?" he asked. "i am very sorry," whispered the man, mindful of the visitor's prodigality in the past and hopeful of future favors. "i have strict orders to admit nobody to-night until the doctor sees him again. the lieutenant isn't so well, sir, and dr. bayard had to administer sedatives before he left. i think he is sleeping just now, though he may only be trying to." holmes paused, reluctant and a little irresolute. "is there nothing i can do or say, sir, if he wakes?" asked the attendant. "can you give him a letter and say nothing about it to anybody?" "certainly i can,--if it's one that won't harm him." "it will do him good, unless i'm mistaken; and he ought to have it to-night: he'll sleep better for it. i'll give it to you at tattoo.--ah, robert! i might have known you'd be in search of me and that i was delaying dinner. say i'll be there instantly." meantime, sergeant freeman had reported to major miller as directed, and was standing attention, cap in hand, at that officer's desk, while the adjutant was scratching away across the room, his pen racing over the paper as he copied the despatch his commander had slowly and thoughtfully dictated. "you say that parsons is the best man to send, sergeant?" "i don't say that, sir, exactly; but he's the lightest man in the troop and has the fastest horse now in the post. he could make it quicker than anybody else, but----" "but what? doesn't he want to go? is he afraid?" asked the major, impatiently. the sergeant flushed a little, as he promptly answered,-- "it isn't that, sir. he wants to go. there's no man in the troop, sir, that would be safe in saying he didn't want to go." "then why do you hesitate?" "because we don't know parsons well, sir; he hasn't been with us more'n a year. he was lieutenant blunt's striker till the lieutenant was wounded, but captain terry had him returned to the troop because we were so short of men and had so much scouting to do. then parsons got into the office as company clerk, and that's where he is now, sir. he writes a fine hand and seemed to know all about papers." "where had he served before joining you?" asked the major. "nowhere, sir. he says he learned what he knows in the adjutant's office at st. louis barracks, where they had the cavalry depot. he's been a barber, i think, on a mississippi steamboat, but he can ride well." "well, let parsons be the man. if he wants to go i see no reason why he shouldn't. tell him to report here mounted and ready at tattoo." but it was nearly ten o'clock before parsons was ready,--a singular fact when it is remembered that he wanted to go,--and mr. holmes, who had stopped a moment to speak with miss forrest as the bugle ceased playing tattoo, found sufficient interest in their chat to detain him until just as the signal "lights out" was ringing on the still night-air. then a horse came trotting briskly into the garrison and over to the adjutant's office. holmes caught a glimpse of the rider as he shot under the gallery and through the gleam from the lower windows. that face again! ten minutes afterward this inquisitive civilian was at the store, and, singling out one of half a dozen cowboys who were laughing and drinking at the bar, he beckoned him to come outside. the others followed, for the barkeeper, in obedience to post orders, was closing up his shop. holmes led his silent follower beyond earshot of the loungers at the door-way. "did you see the soldier who rode past here just now?" "yes, sir." "drake, i've picked you out for service that i can intrust to no one else. you've never failed me yet. are you ready for a long ride to-night?" "anything you want, mr. holmes." "that man's orders are to go with all speed to fetterman and, after resting there twenty-four hours, to take it easily returning. he'll go there all right, i believe, but what he does there and after he leaves there i want to know, if you have to follow to cheyenne. here's fifty dollars. if he jumps the track and starts for the railway after quitting fetterman, let him go; wire me from chugwater, but don't lose track of him. i'll join you at cheyenne or laramie city, wherever he goes, and the moment you strike the settlements put the sheriff on his trail." xviii. three days slipped away without noticeable changes in the situation at laramie. it was late on tuesday evening when the courier rode away with his despatch, and on wednesday afternoon the wire from fetterman flashed the tidings of his safe arrival there and the prompt transmission of the packet in pursuit of the escort that had left for the north at morn. miller breathed more freely, as did his good wife, as now the onus of this great source of distress would be shifted to other shoulders. "a family affair of much importance--no less than the more than probable connection of one of his household with a series of extensive thefts--demanded that captain forrest, if a possible thing, be sent hither at once," was the burden of the major's letter, and he knew that, if a possible thing, the general would find means of ordering the captain in on some duty which would give no inkling of the real nature of the ordeal awaiting him. thursday afternoon, late, parsons was to start on his return, would probably rest or camp at the deserted huts of the ranchmen at la bonté, possibly at the "lapperell," as the frontiersmen termed the little stream the french trappers had years before named _la prêle_, and should reach the fort some time friday evening, though there was no hurry and he had full authority, if he saw fit, to rest his horse another night at bull bend or anywhere he pleased. no one in authority was giving that matter a thought, but it was exactly that matter that kept roswell holmes on the watch at laramie when he would rather have gone away. to his keen eyes it was evident that, despite all bayard's efforts to appear jovial and courteous as ever, he was in sore perplexity. nellie, too, was again keeping her room, and jeannie bruce, with white face and red-rimmed eyes, was the only companion she really welcomed. thursday night had come, and the letter he was to have handed in for mclean's benefit and peace of mind was still withheld. any hour might enable him to speak positively, whereas now he could only theorize. meantime, mrs. miller assured him that the young officer who "had been temporarily set back by the bad news from mr. hatton" was doing very well under the influence of better tidings. on thursday morning a despatch from the stockade brought the welcome information from dr. weeks that hatton's rugged constitution seemed proof against the enemy; he was gaining again. meantime, not a word did miller, bayard, or the adjutant breathe of that conference with mclean, and neither mr. holmes nor miss forrest could form the faintest idea of what had taken place. they had their theories and had frankly exchanged them, and what caused mrs. miller infinite amaze and the garrison a new excitement was this growing companionship between the chicago millionaire and the "queen of bedlam." thrice now had they been seen on the gallery _tête-à-tête_, and once, leaning on his arm, she had appeared on the walk. to the ladies there was no theory so popular as the one that she was setting her cap for him in good earnest now that nellie bayard was confined to her room; and when mrs. miller met him she longed to speak upon the subject. she could well-nigh thank any woman who could draw this formidable rival away and leave the ground to her wounded and deeply-smitten lieutenant; but could she see him becoming entangled in the toils of miss forrest, knowing what she did of that young woman's dreadful moral affliction? there was no way in which she could warn him. she had pledged her word to the major that not a whisper should escape, and though mrs. bruce had managed to derive from a conversation with her that captain forrest had been sent for, it was accomplished by that feminine device, now so successfully imitated by the so-called interviewers of the public press, of making assertions and hazarding suggestions which could not be truthfully denied. the lady longed to take holmes into her confidence,--and could not; and holmes longed to ask her what allegations had been made against mclean and how he had borne them,--yet dared not. both to him and the queen of bedlam that was the explanation of the simultaneous gathering, at the quarters of the young officer, of the commandant, surgeon, and adjutant. holmes boldly inquired of the doctor what had taken place, asserting that he was interested in mclean and wanted to help him, if he was in trouble; and in great embarrassment the doctor had begged to be excused from reply. he would not deny that mclean was in trouble,--in grave trouble,--but there was nothing tangible as yet. nothing was to be said or done until--well, until he was much better and able to be about. friday afternoon came, warm, sunshiny, and delightful. at four o'clock the doctor's carriage--an open, easy, old-fashioned-looking affair--rolled out of the garrison with nellie bayard and jeannie bruce smiling on the back seat, while bayard himself handled the reins. there was a vacant place beside him, and, just as he possibly expected, miss forrest came out on the gallery and waved her hand and smiled cordial greeting to the two girls. instantly he reined in his eager horses, almost bringing them upon their haunches, and called up to her: "this is the best piece of luck that has befallen me since i came to laramie. i've caught you when you could not be engaged. do come and join us, miss forrest! i'm taking my little invalid out for a drive in the sunshine, and it will do you, too, a world of good. do come!" but miss forrest's clear voice was heard in prompt and positive regret. it was impossible: she had an engagement that would occupy her a full hour, and while she thanked the doctor--thanked them all--for stopping for her, it could not be. "i am so glad to see you out again, miss nellie," she called. "now, i shall hope to have you come and spend an hour with me over here." the doctor could hardly conceal his chagrin. again he begged. again his offer was courteously but positively declined. nellie gave but faint response to miss forrest's greetings. jeannie bruce looked fixedly away, and finally the horses received a sharp and most unnecessary touch of the lash, and went bounding away from "bedlam" in a style that reflected small credit on the merits of the driver, and that nearly bruised the backs of his fair passengers. reclining half dressed, in a big easy-chair, randall mclean heard the crash of the horses' hoofs and the whirr-r-r of the wheels on the gravelly road in front, and demanded of the attendant an account of the party. "the doctor, sir, and the two young ladies--out for a drive." mclean was silent for a moment. mrs. miller had gone home some time before on household cares intent, and the doctor was by this time out of the garrison. it left the patient master of the situation. "get this chair out on the gallery," he presently said, as he slowly raised himself to his feet and leaned for support against the table. "put a robe and pillow in it. then come back and help me out." the soldier demurred and would have argued, but mr. mclean silenced him, and presently, in his best blue fatigue-coat and with a white silk handkerchief around his neck and his fatigue-cap tilted over one eye, the young officer, leaning on the attendant's arm, slowly made his way into the open air and was soon comfortably ensconced in the big arm-chair again. several men of his company, smoking on the piazza of the quarters across the parade, arose, put away their pipes, and came over to stand attention and salute their popular lieutenant, and to say how glad they were to see him able to sit up again. it touched mclean's sad and lonely heart to see the pleasure and the trust and faith in their brown, honest faces, and the tears came welling up to his eyes as he held out his hand, calling them by name to step up on the gallery where he could see them better and give each man a cordial though feeble response to the hearty pressure of their brawny hands. then he bade the attendant, after a little chat about mr. hatton's condition and the more hopeful news, to take them in and give them a drink of monongahela; but corporal stein promptly declined: he wouldn't have it thought they came with that hope, when their sole wish was to congratulate their young officer; and, though one or two of them, not so sensitive as the corporal, doubtless took him to task at a later moment, they one and all upheld him now. they would not go in and drink, but presently returned to their barracks, comforted with the reflection that they had done the proper thing. meantime, miss forrest had seen their approach, and, hearing the voices on the lower gallery, readily divined that mr. mclean must be sitting up and taking the air. five minutes after the men were gone, and as that young gentleman was wondering about what time the carriage would return, he heard a quick, light footstep along the wooden floor, the rustle of feminine skirts, and almost before he could turn, the cordial, musical voice of the queen of bedlam: "mr. mclean, how rejoiced i am to see you sitting up! this is simply delightful." for an instant he knew not what to say--how to greet her. heavens! what thoughts of that gloomy council went surging through his brain. he tried to speak, tried to conceal his grievous embarrassment, but his gaunt face flushed painfully and the thin hand he extended in acknowledgment of hers was cold as ice. the nurse promptly brought a chair, set it close by the side of the big arm-chair; then as promptly vanished, as she gracefully thanked him and took it. this was a contingency that had not occurred to mclean for an instant. his whole idea had been to be where he could see nellie's face, possibly receive a smile and bow, possibly a joyous word or two on her return. he had been able for the time being to forget all about miss forrest and the part he had been compelled to play in surrounding her with that web of evidence and suspicion, and now, at this most inopportune moment, here stood this gracious and graceful girl smiling at his side. for a few moments more it was she who did most of the talking; hatton, captain terry's grays, and the fight down the platte furnishing her with abundant material for blithe comment and congratulations. his constraint and solemnity of mien she attributed to physical suffering combined with distress of mind over the charges she believed to have been laid at his door; and, while avoiding all mention of that subject, it was her earnest desire to show him by every trick of woman's infinite variety and shade of manner that she had nothing but admiration for his soldierly conduct, and trust and friendship for him in his troubles. poor mac was but vague, unresponsive, and embarrassed in his acknowledgments, and then--she noted how his eyes were constantly wandering away up the road, and, with woman's quick intuition, divined that he was out there for no other purpose than to watch for the return of the doctor's carriage. presently it came in sight, driving rapidly, and, recalling everything that she had heard from mr. holmes in their recent talks of the doctor's distrust and antipathy toward mclean, miss forrest quickly arose and stepped to the end of the gallery. she had determined that the young soldier should not be balked in so modest a hope as that of seeing and being seen by the girl he loved. she felt assured that unless he was signalled or checked in some way the doctor would drive by "full tilt," and, with the quickness of thought, she had formed her plan. the sight of fanny forrest, standing at the north end of the gallery and holding aloft her white palm in the exact gesture of the indian and frontiersman signalling "stop," was enough to make him bring the powerful team back on their haunches directly in front of the steps, and, before a word could be said in explanation, there, flushing feebly, was randall mclean, striving to lift himself from his nest of robes and pillows, and salute the lady of his heart. lachlan stepped quickly forward from the hall and, with him on one side and miss forrest smiling on the other, mclean was half lifted to the railing, where he could look right into the bonnie face he longed to see. nellie bayard, sitting nearest him, flushed crimson at the first glimpse at the tall, gaunt figure, and her little hand tightly closed beneath the lap-robe on the sturdier fingers of miss bruce. a joyous light danced only one instant in her eyes, and died out as quickly as the flush upon her cheek at sight of miss forrest's supporting arm. was this, then, the engagement which prevented her acceptance of the doctor's offer? was this the way in which the hero of her girlish dreams should be restored to her,--with that bewilderingly handsome and fascinating new york girl at his side, almost possessively supporting and exhibiting him? the sight had stung the doctor too, and the same idea about the engagement seemed to flash through his head. "this will never do, mr. mclean," he sternly spoke, "you are in no condition to venture out; i'll be over to see you in a minute. get back to your room as quick as you can." and with these words he whipped up his team again, and the carriage flashed away. nellie had not spoken a word. for a moment they stood there stunned. mclean gazed bitterly after the retreating vehicle a moment, then turned with questioning eyes to his silent companion. she, too, was gazing fixedly after the doctor's little party, her color fluttering, her eyes glowing, and her white teeth setting firmly. then impulsively she turned to him: "this is all my fault, all my stupidity, mr. mclean; i might have known. forgive me for the sake of my good intentions, and depend upon it, good shall yet come of this, for now i have a crow to pick with dr. bayard, and i mean to see him before he sees you. are you going in,--at once?" "yes. there's nothing else to do," he answered, wearily, hopelessly, wretchedly, as he slowly turned away. "mr. mclean!" she exclaimed, with sudden and irrepressible excitement of manner. "stop!--one moment only. there's something i must say to you. lachlan, please step inside the hall," she hurriedly continued. "i'll call you in plenty of time before the doctor can get here. now, mr. mclean, listen! i know something of your trouble. i know something of the toils by which you have been surrounded, and how unjustly you have been treated; but let me tell you that the very man you have most feared is the man of all others who stands your steadfast friend. look! he's coming now. coming fast, too--from the telegraph office. i almost know what it is he brings. one more thing i must say while yet there is time. i could not help seeing how your heart was bound up in nellie bayard. nay, don't turn away in such despair. i read her better than you do, and i know you better than you think. i tell you brighter days are near. keep up a brave heart, mr. mclean. remember your name; remember 'the race of clan gillian--the fearless and free.' i tell you that were i a man i could envy you the truth i read in nellie bayard's eyes. all is coming out well, and there's my hand and my heart full of good wishes with it." he took it wonderingly, silently. good heavens! was this the woman who, through his testimony, stood accused of degrading crimes? was it possible that she could have been the criminal, and yet at the very time could write those mysterious words upon the hidden card--proffering aid and friendship? what manner of woman was this now quivering with excitement at his side, her glowing eyes fastened on the rapidly advancing form of roswell holmes? what meant she by speaking of the man he most feared as his most steadfast friend? just as major and mrs. miller with dr. bayard stepped upon the broad gallery of bedlam at its southern end and stopped in embarrassment at sight of the group at the other, mr. holmes had bounded up the steps and, placing in her hand a telegraphic despatch, held forth his own to randall mclean. "read it aloud!" was all he said, and eagerly she obeyed: "chugwater, friday, p.m. "roswell holmes, esq., fort laramie.--parsons streaking it for cheyenne. has plenty money. close at his heels. "drake." xix. whatever sensation or suppressed mystery may have existed at the post prior to the receipt of the brief despatch announcing that the soldier, parsons, had "bolted," it was all as nothing compared with the excitements of the week that followed. miller's first impulse, when mr. holmes placed the brown scrap of paper in his hands, was to inquire how it happened that a civilian should concern himself with the movements of his men, either in or out of garrison, but something in the expression of miss forrest's face as she walked calmly past him on the way to her room, and in the kindling eyes of this popular and respected gentleman gave him decided pause. "there is a matter behind all this which i ought to know, is there not?" was therefore his quiet inquiry; and when mr. holmes assured him that there was, and the two went off together arm in arm, leaving mrs. miller to wonder what it all could mean, and to go in and upbraid her pet lieutenant for venturing from his room when still so weak, it was soon evident to more eyes than those of dr. bayard that something of unusual interest was indeed brewing, and that the ordinarily genial and jovial major was powerfully moved. in ten minutes the two men were at the telegraph office and the operator was "calling" cheyenne. an hour later, after another brief and earnest talk with miss forrest on the upper gallery of "bedlam," mr. holmes's travelling wagon rolled into the garrison and away he went. at midnight he was changing horses at "the chug." the next day he was at cheyenne and wired the major from that point. two days more and he was heard from at denver, and then there was silence. at the end of the week private parsons, of terry's grays, who had been carried for three or four successive mornings as "on detached service," then as "absent without leave," was formally accounted for as "deserted," and it began to be whispered about the garrison that grave and decidedly sensational reasons attended his sudden disappearance. dr. bayard had a long and private interview with the commanding officer, who showed him a letter received from mr. holmes, and went home to nellie with a dazed look on his distinguished face. the sight of randall mclean, seated on the front piazza, and in blithe conversation with that young lady and her friend miss bruce, for an instant caused him to halt short at his own gate, but, mastering whatever emotion possessed him, the doctor marched straight up to that rapidly recuperating officer, who was trying to find his feet and show due respect to the master of the house, and, bidding him keep his seat, bent over and took his hand and confused him more than a little by the unexpected and really inexplicable warmth of his greeting. mclean, who had been accustomed to constraint and coldness of manner on the part of the post surgeon, was at a loss to account for the sudden change. nellie, whose sweet eyes had marked with no little uneasiness her father's hurried coming, flushed with relief and shy delight at this unlooked-for welcome; and jeannie bruce, to use her own expression when telling of it afterward, was "all taken aback." she and mrs. miller had between them planned that mr. mclean should walk over with the latter, early in the afternoon, just as though out for a little airing and to try his legs after their unaccustomed rest. nellie and miss bruce were to happen out on the piazza at the moment (and the details of this portion of the plan were left to the ingenuity of "bonnie jean" herself, who well knew that it must be accomplished without a germ of suspicion on the part of her shy and sensitive little friend), and mclean was to be escorted in by mrs. miller, who was presently to leave, promising to come back for him in a few moments. then, when the ice was broken and nellie was beginning to feel more at ease after the mysterious estrangement and this sudden reappearance of her old friend, jean, too, was to be called away and the pair be left alone. arch plotters that these women are! they had chosen the hour when the doctor almost invariably took his siesta, and both ladies had warned their friends on no account to select that opportunity to rush over and congratulate the lieutenant on his convalescence,--a thing the gordon girls would have been sure to do. miss bruce had gone so far as to ask mrs. miller if she did not think it might be well to "post" miss forrest, who had been almost daily seen conversing with mr. mclean since he began to sit out on the gallery again; but mrs. miller promptly replied that there was no need to tell miss forrest anything. "she has more sense than all of the rest of us put together," were the surprising words of the reply, "as i have excellent reasons to know." what could have happened to so radically change mrs. miller's estimate of and regard for the "queen of bedlam?" was jean bruce's natural question of her mother that night, and mrs. bruce was in a quandary how to answer and not betray the secret that had been confided to her. from having avoided and distrusted miss fanny forrest, it was now noticeable to the entire garrison that mrs. miller was exerting herself to be more than civil. it was too late to change the plan of the afternoon's campaign when the major's orderly came around to dr. bayard's with the compliments of the commanding officer and a request that the doctor join him at his quarters as soon as possible. although he was gone nearly an hour, he returned before mclean had been with the girls more than a quarter of that time, and changed their apprehension into wonderment and secret joy by the extreme--almost oppressive--courtesy of manner to his unbidden guest. "it was just as though he was trying to make amends for something," said miss bruce, in telling of it afterward. be that as it may, it is certain that after urging mclean to take a good rest where he was and to come again and "sun himself" on their piazza, and being unaccountably cordial in his monologue (for the younger officer hardly knew how to express himself under the circumstances), the doctor finally vanished. jeannie bruce was so utterly "taken aback" by it all that for some minutes she totally forgot her part in the little drama. then, suddenly recalling the _rôle_ she was to play, despite the appeal and protest and dismay in elinor's pleading eyes, miss bruce, too, sped away and the two were left alone. from the south end of the gallery at bedlam miss forrest looked smilingly upon the scene and would fain have rewarded bonnie jean by blowing a kiss to her, but jeannie's eyes were focussed on a little party of horsemen just dismounting in front of the commanding officer's. they might bring news from the cantonment,--perhaps a little note from her own particular hero, mr. hatton. nearing them she recognized the leader as a sergeant of captain terry's troop, and knew well from the trim appearance of the men and their smooth-shaven cheeks and chins that they were just setting forth, not just returning from the field. the adjutant came hurrying down the steps of the major's quarters just as she reached the gate, and raised his forage-cap at sight of her. "you can start at once, sergeant," she heard him say. "now remember: to-morrow evening will be time enough for you to land your party at fort russell. report on arrival to the commanding officer, and permit none of your men to go into cheyenne until he sends you. then you are to return here with whatever may be intrusted to your care." she was not at all surprised on reaching home to find her mother and mrs. miller watching with eager eyes the departure of the cavalrymen. mclean and nellie bayard saw it too, and it gave them something to talk about a whole hour that afternoon, and paved the way for another talk the next day--and the next. that night, in quick succession, the telegraph brought four despatches to laramie. as in duty bound, the messenger went first to the commanding officer, who held out his hand for all four and was surprised at being accorded only two. "these are for miss forrest, sir," said the messenger. the major broke the envelope of his own, glanced at the first, and snapped his fingers with delight and exultation. "they've got him, lizzie!" he chuckled to his eager helpmate. then he tore open the other. the glad look vanished in an instant; the light of hope, relief, and satisfaction fled from his eyes and the color from his cheeks. "my god!" he muttered, as his hand fell by his side. "what is it, dear?" she queried, anxiously. "forrest is coming--post-haste. will be here to-morrow night. now she's got to be told." "then, as it is all my fault, i must be the one," was the reply. but even as they were discussing the matter, irresolute, distressed, there was a ring at the bell; and in a moment who should enter the parlor, holding in her hand those fateful telegrams, but miss forrest herself? she came straight toward them--smiling, and mrs. miller and her half-dazed major arose to greet her. "i suppose i may be taken into official confidences to-night; may i not, major?" she said, gayly. "mr. holmes has probably wired us news which we can exchange. i congratulate you on the recovery of your deserter, and you can rejoice with me in the recovery of my diamonds." "your diamonds!" exclaimed the major and his good wife in a breath. "when--how were they taken? why did you not tell us?" "they were taken from my room--from my locked trunk--the night of dr. bayard's dinner,--the same night that his porte-monnaie and his beautiful amethyst set were stolen from mr. holmes. i did not tell any one at first, because of mrs. forrest's prostrated condition, and because at first i suspected her servant celestine and thought i could force her into restoring them without letting poor ruth know anything about it. then i couldn't speak of it, for the next discovery i made simply stunned me and made me ill. then, finally, i told mr. holmes, and he took the matter in charge. you have heard from my brother, too?" she asked eagerly. "i am rejoiced at his coming, for it will do her a world of good, and she is wild with excitement and happiness now. how was it all managed, major? he wrote to me a fortnight ago that with the prospect of incessant fighting before them it was impossible for him to ask for leave of absence, and begging me to help ruth in every way in my power and save her from worry of any kind. you see how i was placed. and now, all of a sudden, he is virtually ordered in, he wires me, and can attribute it to nothing but dangerous illness on her part. did you get it for him? i _know_ you did." miller and his wife looked at her, then at one another in dumb amaze. what could he say? how could he force himself to tell this brave and spirited and self-sacrificing girl of the cloud of suspicion with which she had been enveloped! "tell me about the diamonds," gasped mrs. miller to gain time. "were they valuable? though of course they must have been. everything of yours is so beautiful and--well, i must say it all now--costly." "they were a present from my uncle, mr. courtlandt," she answered, simply. "i valued them more than anything i had. the trunk was entered by false keys, and the diamonds were taken out of their locked case and spirited away. my first suspicion attached to celestine and her soldier friend. they had been aroused before at robinson. then came this stunning surprise in my discovery next day, and a week of great indecision and distress. now, of course, the inspiration of the villany is captured, though more than ever do i suspect celestine as being confederate, or possibly principal actor. she has been utterly daft the last four days and constantly haunting the post-office for a letter that never comes." "she will be wild enough when she knows the truth," said miller, hoarsely. "the scoundrel had a wife in denver, where he was finally tracked and jailed. it was she who offered the diamonds in pawn. they did not manage things well, and should have waited, for he had over two hundred dollars,--must have had,--for you and mr. holmes were not the only losers here." "who were the others?" she quickly asked. "mr. hatton and mr. mclean." "mr. mclean! oh, the shame of it!" miss forrest paced rapidly up and down the parlor floor, her eyes flashing, her cheeks flushed, her hands nervously twisting the filmy handkerchief she carried. her excitement was something utterly foreign to her, and neither miller nor his wife could understand it. suddenly, as though by uncontrollable impulse, she stopped before and faced them. "major miller!" she exclaimed, "i must tell you something. i had made up my mind to do it yesterday. it will not add to my faint popularity here, but i respect you and mrs. miller. i know you are _his_ friends, and i want your advice. how am i to make amends to mr. mclean? what am i to say to him? do you know that for a few days of idiocy i was made to believe that you suspected him of the thefts? and it was his handkerchief i found on the floor behind my trunk. what will the man think of me? and yet i _must_ tell him. i cannot sit by him day after day, see him, speak with him, and have my heart hammering out the words, 'he thinks you are his friend, and you thought him to be a thief.'" it was more than miller could stand. "miss forrest! miss forrest!" he exclaimed, as his wife sank into an easy-chair and hid her face in her hands. "you cover me with shame and confusion. never in my life have i heard of so extraordinary a complication as this has been! never have i been so worried and distressed! my dear young lady, try and hear me patiently. you have been far more sinned against than sinning. a few hours ago dr. bayard--he who led you in your suspicions, for he told me so--left here crushed and humbled to find that he had been so blind and unjust. but i would gladly exchange places with him, for i've been worse. i've been weak enough to be made to look with other's eyes and not my own. mclean was indeed involved in grave suspicion, but nothing as compared with that which surrounded another,--a woman who was entitled to our utmost sympathy and protection because her natural protector was in the field far from her side,--a woman who did find friends and protectors in my young officers,--mclean and hatton,--god bless 'em for it! for they stoutly refused to tell a thing until it was dragged from them by official inquiry, and then they had burned every tangible piece of evidence against her. she was at robinson last winter, and money and valuables were constantly disappearing. silken skirts were heard trailing in dark hall-ways at night; her form was seen in the room of the plundered officers. the stories followed her to laramie. the night mclean and hatton were robbed her silken skirts were heard trailing up the north hall of bedlam and her feet scurrying over the gallery. her handkerchief was found at mclean's bureau, and, while they were all waiting for her at mrs. gordon's, mclean himself collided with a feminine shape in the darkness out on the parade, and it slipped away without a word as though fearing detection. the night of the robbery at bayard's she was alone up-stairs. another night she was seen entering the hall-way without ringing the bell or knocking at the door. another evening i, who was in the bayards' library, listened for ten minutes to some one who was striving to pick the lock and make a secret entrance while elinor was confined to her room and the doctor was known to be a quarter of a mile away at the hospital. at last, wearying of waiting for the thief to effect an entrance and permit of my seeing him or her in the hall, i sprang out upon the piazza and found--you. then that night i strove to see hatton and wring from him his knowledge of what had been going on in bedlam. you implored him not to go. you, unwittingly, made him and, through him, mclean believe it was your own trouble you sought to conceal; and, though i thank god i was utterly mistaken, utterly wrong in my belief, i crave your forgiveness, miss forrest. it was i who urged that your brother be sent here at once, though the general believes it was on mrs. forrest's account, that he might put an end to these peculations and restore what property could be recovered from you,--you who have suffered a loss far greater than all the others put together and never said a word about it." and poor miller, who had never made so long a speech in his life before, turned chokingly away. then mrs. miller spoke, and miss forrest's dilated eyes were turned slowly from the major's bulky shape to the matronly form upon the sofa and the woe-begone face that appeared from behind the handkerchief. miss forrest's cheeks had paled and her lips were parted. she had seized and was leaning upon the back of a chair, but not one word had she spoken. as mrs. miller's voice was heard, it seemed as though a slight contraction of the muscles brought about a decided frown upon her white forehead, but she listened in utter silence. "indeed, miss forrest, you musn't blame the major too much. he wouldn't have listened to a word against you--if--if it hadn't been for me. i was all at fault. but i couldn't have believed a word against you had it not been for those letters from robinson. they--they----" and here mrs. miller had recourse to her handkerchief, and miss forrest stretched forth her hand as though to urge her say no more. there was intense silence in the parlor a moment. then through the open windows came the sudden sound of a scuffle, a woman's shriek, a sudden fall, voluble curses and ravings in celestine's familiar tones, and the rush of many feet toward bedlam. seizing his cap and hurrying thither, the major pushed his way through an excited group on the lower gallery. the sergeant of the guard, lantern in hand, was wonderingly contemplating the scotch "striker" lachlan, who firmly clung to the wrist of the struggling, swearing girl, despite her adjurations to let her go. other men from the quarters were clustered around them, hardly knowing what to say, for lachlan contented himself with the single word "thief!" and never relaxed his grasp until the major bade him do so, but instantly renewed it as his prisoner attempted to spring away. mclean came limping to the scene from the direction of the doctor's quarters just as miss forrest, too, appeared, and him lachlan addressed: "i found her rummaging in the bureau, sir." and then miss forrest's quiet voice was heard as soon as the major's orders to bring a gag had silenced the loud protestations and accusations of the negress. "it is as we supposed, major. that is the skirt of an old silk i gave her last winter." an hour later celestine was locked in a room at the laundress's quarters, where stout "mrs. sergeant flynn" organized an amazon guard of heroines, who, like herself, had followed the drum for many a year; who assured the major the prisoner would never escape from their clutches, and whose motto appeared to be, "put none but irishwomen on guard to-night." xx. confessions, of various sorts, were the order of the day at laramie during the week that followed this important arrest, and then the fortnight of accusation was at an end. parsons, the deserter, led off the day after his return to the post under escort of the little squad sent down from terry's troop to meet him at cheyenne. he was stubborn and silent at first, but when told by the corporal of the guard that celestine had "gone back on him the moment she heard he had a wife at denver, and had more than given him away," he concluded that it was time to deny some of the accusations heaped upon his head by the furious victim of his wiles. the girl had indeed obeyed his beck and will, and shielded him even in the days of suspense that followed his desertion; but no word can describe the rage of her jealousy, the fury of her hate, the recklessness of her tongue when she found that he had used her only as a tool to enrich another woman,--his lawful wife. parsons told his story to an interested audience as though he had rather enjoyed the celebrity he had acquired, and major miller, dr. bayard, captain forrest, and mr. roswell holmes were his most attentive listeners. he had been a corporal in the marine corps at the washington navy-yard, and had seen dr. bayard many a time. reduced to the ranks for some offence, he had become an officer's servant, and was employed at the mess-room, where bayard must have seen him frequently, as the doctor rarely missed their festivities at the barracks. here his peculations began and were discovered. he deserted and got to st. louis, where he began to "barber" on a boat; got married and into more trouble; fled to denver and found people's wits too sharp for him; so, leaving his wife to support herself as best she could, he ran up to cheyenne and enlisted in the cavalry. doors and windows, desks and trunks, were found lying open everywhere at robinson; celestine was speedily induced to learn the business, and proved an adept. he warned her she would be suspected, but she laughed and said she knew how to hoodwink folks. they kept up their partnership at laramie, he receiving and hiding the valuables she brought him; but he was sure the doctor had recognized him; he knew there was danger, and he was determined to slip away the first chance that came, especially after securing the diamonds. the fetterman despatch gave him the longed-for opportunity. celestine was quieted by the promise that, as soon as the thing had blown over and he was safe, he would get word to her where to join him, send her plenty of money, and then they would be married and live happily ever after. on the way back from fetterman he stopped at an abandoned hut near bull bend, where he had hidden his plunder on the way up, stowed the money and jewels in his saddle-bags, then pushed for hunton's on the chug; got safely by in the night, rode his horse hard to lodge pole creek, where he left him at a ranch and secured the loan of another. then keeping well to the west of fort russell and never going near cheyenne, he crossed the union pacific and made his way to denver. but there, to his dismay, the "rocky mountain" detective officials were on the watch for him, and every precaution had been vain. he was captured; miss forrest's diamonds, mr. holmes's amethysts, and mr. hatton's pins were found secreted in his possession, though most of the money was gone,--gambling,--and that was all. he never knew that mr. holmes had tracked him all the way and rolled up a volume of evidence against him. celestine, tiger-cat that she was, had at first filled the air with shrieks of rage and loud accusations, first against lachlan and then miss forrest, but the irish laundresses only jeered at her; and, when the deserter was fairly back in the garrison and the circumstances of his capture were made known, taunted her with having been victimized by a man who had a wife to share the profits of her plundering. once made to realize that this was truth, she no longer sought to conceal anything. she seemed bent only on heaping up vengeance upon him. 'twas he who corrupted her; he who taught her to steal; he who showed her how to pick locks; he who told her to wear miss forrest's silk skirts and steal her handkerchiefs and leave them where they would be found; he who let her in to the doctor's the night of the dinner and stole the porte-monnaie from the fur coat while she went up-stairs and took the amethysts from mr. holmes's room. she wasn't afraid. if any one came all she had to do was to say she had returned for something she had lost when accompanying miss forrest. 'twas he who told her to take some of mclean's handkerchiefs and drop one in mr. holmes's room where he would be sure to get it, "'cause dr. bayard wanted to get rid of mr. mclean and would believe nothing against miss forrest;" 'twas he who tried to pick that latch again and get in and steal the doctor's silver, but was interrupted by miss forrest's coming, and had just time to slink away on tiptoe around the corner of the house; 'twas he who gave her keys to open miss forrest's trunk and showed her how to pick the lock of the little box that held her diamonds, and he who bade her lose one of mclean's handkerchiefs behind the trunk. oh, yes! she was ready to swear fire, murder, and treason against him--her scoundrelly deceiver. in one short day this precious pair had succeeded in saddling each other with the iniquities of the garrison for a month back, and all other suspicions were at an end. but there was still another feather in mr. holmes's cap. he had known these denver detectives for years and had placed much valuable business in their hands. he had munificently rewarded every man who had been efficient in the present chase and capture; had had the pleasure of restoring to miss forrest in a new case and well-repaired setting the diamonds of which she had been despoiled, and then he sought mclean. "did you ever get a little card i left in your drawer one night while i was here with mr. hatton?" he asked. mclean looked up in eager interest. "a card?--yes, but never dreamed it was from you. indeed i thought--i was told--it came from an entirely different source, and it has puzzled me more than words can tell you." "it was perhaps a piece of officiousness on my part, but we were in a peculiar state just then with all these thefts going on. i stowed it in one of your handkerchiefs while hatton was out. what did you do with it!" "burned it--long ago. i couldn't understand at all. it said that one who had been as hard pressed as i was--pecuniarily, i supposed--wanted to be my friend, and----" "yes, that's about it! i suppose you couldn't see your way clear to accepting help from me----" "i didn't know it was your card or your writing. no initials appeared. the card was otherwise blank, and hatton and i--well--there's no sense in telling the absurdity of our beliefs at that time. we were all at sea." "let all that pass," said holmes, with a grave smile on his face. "the man that hasn't been a fool in one way or another in this garrison during the last month or so is not on my list of acquaintances, and i think i know myself. what i want now is a description of sergeant marsland. one of my denver friends thinks he has spotted him as a swell gambler down at el paso." and so, that night, a full pen-picture of the lamented commissary-sergeant was wired to denver. two days later a special detective was speeding southward; and though roswell holmes had left fort laramie and gone about his other affairs long before the result was known, and long before the slow-moving wheels of wyoming and military justice had rolled the two later culprits before the courts, it was his name that came up for renewed applause and enthusiastic praise when the telegraph brought to the commanding officer the news that a "rich haul!" had been made on the far-away texan frontier. marsland and over one thousand dollars had been gathered in at "one fell swoop." then came july, its blazing sunshine tempered by the snow-cooled breezes from the mountain-peaks, and its starry nights made drowsy and soothing by the softer melody of the swift-rushing laramie. the roar and fury of the may torrents were gone and with them the clouds and storms of human jealousies and suspicions. the crowded garrison had undergone a valuable experience. the social circle of the post had learned a lesson as to the fallibility of feminine and masculine--judgment. bruce was slyly ridiculing miller because of his surrender to the views and theories of his better half, and, even while resenting verbally the fact that he had been excluded from all participation in the momentous affairs of the early summer, was known to be devoutly thankful in his innermost heart that he had not been drawn into the snarl. bruce was hand in glove with captain forrest now, who, having set his house in order and silenced the querulous complaints of his wife at the loss of celestine, was eager to get back to his troop. between forrest and mclean, too, there had sprung up a feeling of cordial friendship. forrest had heard from his sister's lips the story of how he and hatton had burned her handkerchief and striven in every way to shield her in his absence, and the cavalryman's heart warmed to them more than he could express. to miller and mclean he told the story of his sister's differences with her uncle, pretty much in effect as mrs. forrest told the doctor. it was courtlandt's son she would not marry because of his repeated lapses into inebriety, and courtlandt's bounty she would no longer accept since she could not take the son. the registered letters she had mailed contained the remittances the sorrowful old man persisted in sending her and she persisted in returning. dr. bayard, too, had shown vast cordiality to the stalwart cavalry brother, but forrest seemed to share his sister's views, and only moderately responded. poor bayard! again and again did he curse the cruel fates that had exiled him to this outlying, barbarous, incomprehensible community. again and again did he bemoan the blunders he had made. in the _éclaircissement_ that followed the arrest of celestine and parsons he had striven to pose as the champion of miss forrest and to redouble his devotions. there was no doubt of his devotion: the grandiose old beau was completely fascinated by the brilliancy, daring, and self-control of that indomitable queen of bedlam. after the first shock and a few hours of solitude, in which she refused to see or talk with anybody, miss forrest had emerged from her room in readiness to welcome her brother on his arrival, and no one in all that garrison could detect the faintest sign of resentment or discomposure in her manner. if anything, she was rather more approachable to people she could not fancy than at any time before, and, now that the bruces and gordons and johnsons and everybody seemed in mad competition to see who could be most cordial and friendly with her, it speedily became apparent that it was their offishness, not hers, that had kept them asunder earlier in her visit. mrs. post had found her out, she proudly asserted, just as soon as she came to live under the same roof with her, and it was now her privilege to claim precedence over the others of the large sisterhood. but all this sudden popularity of the young lady in question was no great comfort to bayard, who found it almost impossible to see her alone. she would gladly have gone to spend hours with elinor, who was still far from strong, for "her majesty," as she was often playfully referred to, was disposed to be very fond of that sweet-faced child; but elinor seemed to shrink from her a little. she feared that her father had really fallen deeply in love again, and if so who could resist him? she admired miss forrest and could be very fond of her, but not as a second mother. another matter that stood in the way of going thither was the fact that bayard seemed to track her everywhere, and the situation was becoming unendurable. one night, at last, he dropped in at the millers' when she was there, and promptly, when she retired, offered to escort her home. she thanked him, took his arm, walked slowly with him to the south hall of bedlam, and there bid him adieu. no one knows just what was talked of on that eventful walk, but it was the last he ever sought with her, and for weeks bayard was a moody, miserable man. all laramie swore he had proposed and had been rejected, but no one could positively tell. elinor redoubled her loving ways from that time, and strove to cheer and gladden him, but he was almost repellant. there was only one thing, he declared to her, that made him wretched, and that was her attachment to mr. mclean. if she would only be sensible, and see how absurd that was, he could smile again, but that was a matter in which his little girl had decided as her mother had decided before her. poor bayard! to revenge himself on his father- and mother-in-law he had wrested this sweet child from their arms and brought her hither, only to see her won away in turn, and, by all that was horrible, by an army lieutenant. he had to admit that mclean was a gentleman, a splendid officer, without a vice or a meanness, and, now that the stolen stores were replaced by their money value, without a debt in the world; but he was poor,--he was nothing, in fact, but what he himself had been when he won elinor's mother. mclean had spoken to him manfully and asked his consent, but he rebuffed him, saying she was a mere child. mclean declared he would wait any reasonable time, but claimed the privilege of visiting her as a suitor, and this he would have refused, and for a few days did refuse, until her pallor and tearful eyes so upbraided him that he gave up in despair. meantime she had poured out her heart to the loving grandparents at home, and they took her part, and, almost to her surprise, actually welcomed the news that she had a lover. the judge wrote to bayard (the first time he had so honored him since their difference the previous winter), saying he knew "the stock" well and expressing his hearty approval of nellie's choice. as to her future, he said, that was his business. it made no difference to him whether mr. mclean was rich or poor. that matter was one he could settle to suit himself. it was a comfort to know she "had given her heart to a steadfast, loyal, and honest man." and so, having stirred up his son-in-law and made him wince to his heart's content, the old statesman bade him stand no longer in the way, but tell the young gentleman that he, too, would be glad to know him; and this letter, that evening, "old chesterfield" placed in his daughter's hand and then magnanimously gave her his blessing. it was not to be shown to mclean, said the doctor, but he did not tell her why. he was afraid the young fellow would read between the lines and see what the judge was driving at when he spoke of the loyalty and honesty of nellie's lover. heavens! what billing and cooing there was at laramie all that late summer and autumn! how jeannie bruce blushed and bloomed when the ambulance finally landed mr. hatton at her side, and he took his limping but blissful daily walk in her society! how nellie bayard's soft cheeks grew rounder and rosier as the autumn wore away, and how her sweet eyes softened and glowed as they gazed up into the manly face of the young soldier whom she was just beginning to learn (very shyly and hesitatingly yet, and only when none but he could hear) to call "randall." rapturous confidences were those in which she and jeannie bruce daily engaged. blissful were the glances with which they rewarded miss forrest for her warm and cordial congratulations. delightful were the hours they presently began to spend with her; and dismal, dismal was the old frontier post when october came and those three young women with appropriate escort were spirited away together: elinor to spend the winter with her grandparents and make who knows what elaborate preparations for the military wedding which was to come off in the following may; jeannie bruce to pay her a long visit and indulge in similar, though far less lavish, shopping on her own account; and miss forrest to return to the roof of old mr. courtlandt, who begged it as a solace to his declining years and fast-failing health. the doctor, mclean, and hatton went with the party as far as cheyenne and saw them, with their friends major and mrs. stannard, of the cavalry, safely aboard the train for omaha, and then with solemn visages returned to the desolation of their post to worry through the winter as best they could. telegrams from omaha and chicago told of the safe and happy flight of the eastward travellers, and soon the letters began to come. "what do you think?" wrote both the younger girls, "who do you suppose was at chicago to meet us but mr. holmes?" "all's well that ends well!" quoth mr. hatton, one evening soon after, as he blew a cloud of "lynchburg sun-cured" tobacco-smoke across the top of the old argand and tossed mclean a cheyenne paper. "celestine has gone to the penitentiary, and here's the sentence of the court in the case of marsland and parsons,--five years apiece." "all's well that ends well!" for those were glad and hopeful and happy hearts, as the long, long winter wore away and another may-day came around; and the sunshine danced on the snow crests of the grand old peak; and the foaming laramie again tossed high its brawling surges; and the south wind swept away the few remaining drifts, searching them out in the depths of the bare ravines and bringing to light tender little tufts of green--the baby buffalo-grass: and one day there came a wild surprise, and the ladies swarmed to mrs. miller's for confirmation of the news that went from lip to lip,--the news that "her majesty" had indeed at last surrendered, and that roswell holmes had wooed and won "the queen of bedlam." the end. [illustration: snana called loudly to her companion turnip-diggers. frontispiece. _see page_ .] indian child life by charles a. eastman (_ohiyesa_) illustrated by george varian boston little, brown, and company _copyright, _, by little, brown, and company. _all rights reserved_ printers s. j. parkhill & co., boston, u.s.a. transcriber's note: in the name "hak[=a]dah" the [=a] represents an "a" with a macron above it. a letter to the children dear children:--you will like to know that the man who wrote these true stories is himself one of the people he describes so pleasantly and so lovingly for you. he hopes that when you have finished this book, the indians will seem to you very real and very friendly. he is not willing that all your knowledge of the race that formerly possessed this continent should come from the lips of strangers and enemies, or that you should think of them as blood-thirsty and treacherous, as savage and unclean. war, you know, is always cruel, and it is true that there were stern fighting men among the indians, as well as among your own forefathers. but there were also men of peace, men generous and kindly and religious. there were tender mothers, and happy little ones, and a home life that was pure and true. there were high ideals of loyalty and honor. it will do you good and make you happier to read of these things. perhaps you wonder how a "real, live indian" could write a book. i will tell you how. the story of this man's life is itself as wonderful as a fairy tale. born in a wigwam, as he has told you, and early left motherless, he was brought up, like the little hiawatha, by a good grandmother. when he was four years old, war broke out between his people and the united states government. the indians were defeated and many of them were killed. some fled northward into canada and took refuge under the british flag, among them the writer of this book, with his grandmother and an uncle. his father was captured by the whites. after ten years of that wild life, now everywhere at an end, of which he has given you a true picture in his books, his father, whom the good president lincoln had pardoned and released from the military prison, made the long and dangerous journey to canada to find and bring back his youngest son. the sioux were beginning to learn that the old life must go, and that, if they were to survive at all, they must follow "the white man's road," long and hard as it looked to a free people. they were beginning to plow and sow and send their children to school. ohiyesa, the winner, as the boy was called, came home with his father to what was then dakota territory, to a little settlement of sioux homesteaders. everything about the new life was strange to him, and at first he did not like it at all. he had thoughts of running away and making his way back to canada. but his father, many lightnings, who had been baptized a christian under the name of jacob eastman, told him that he, too, must take a new name, and he chose that of charles alexander eastman. he was told to cut off his long hair and put on citizen's clothing. then his father made him choose between going to school and working at the plow. ohiyesa tried plowing for half a day. it was hard work to break the tough prairie sod with his father's oxen and the strange implement they gave him. he decided to try school. rather to his surprise, he liked it, and he kept on. his teachers were pleased with his progress, and soon better opportunities opened to him. he was sent farther east to a better school, where he continued to do well, and soon went higher. in the long summer vacations he worked, on farms, in shops and offices; and in winter he studied and played football and all the other games you play, until after about fifteen or sixteen years he found himself with the diplomas of a famous college and a great university, a bachelor of science, a doctor of medicine, and a doubly educated man--educated in the lore of the wilderness as well as in some of the deepest secrets of civilization. since that day, a good many more years have passed. ohiyesa, known as doctor charles a. eastman, has now a home and six children of his own among the new england hills. he has hundreds of devoted friends of both races. he is the author of five books which have been widely read, some of them in england, france and germany as well as in america, and he speaks face to face to thousands of people every year. perhaps some of you have heard from his own lips his recollections of wild life. you may find all the stories in this book, and many more of the same sort, in the books called "indian boyhood," and "old indian days," published by doubleday, page and company, of garden city, l.i., who have kindly consented to the publication of this little volume in order that the children in our schools might read stories of real indians by a real indian. contents part one my indian childhood chapter page i. "the pitiful last" ii. early hardships iii. an indian sugar camp iv. games and sports v. an indian boy's training vi. the boy hunter vii. evening in the lodge part two stories of real indians i. winona's childhood ii. winona's girlhood iii. a midsummer feast iv. the faithfulness of long ears v. snana's fawn vi. hakadah's first offering vii. the grave of the dog list of illustrations snana called loudly to her companion turnip-diggers _frontispiece_ so he bravely jumped upon the nest page "oh, what nice claws he has, uncle!" i exclaimed eagerly he began to sing a dirge for him part one my indian childhood i "the pitiful last" what boy would not be an indian for a while when he thinks of the freest life in the world? this life was mine. every day there was a real hunt. there was real game. no people have a better use of their five senses than the children of the wilderness. we could smell as well as hear and see. we could feel and taste as well as we could see and hear. nowhere has the memory been more fully developed than in the wild life, and i can still see wherein i owe much to my early training. of course i myself do not remember when i first saw the day, but my brothers have often recalled the event with much mirth; for it was a custom of the sioux that when a boy was born his brother must plunge into the water, or roll in the snow naked if it was winter time; and if he was not big enough to do either of these himself, water was thrown on him. if the new-born had a sister, she must be immersed. the idea was that a warrior had come to camp, and the other children must display some act of hardihood. i was so unfortunate as to be the youngest of five children who, soon after i was born, were left motherless. i had to bear the humiliating name "hak[=a]dah," meaning "the pitiful last," until i should earn a more dignified and appropriate name. i was regarded as little more than a plaything by the rest of the children. the babe was done up as usual in a movable cradle made from an oak board two and a half feet long and one and a half feet wide. on one side of it was nailed with brass-headed tacks the richly embroidered sack, which was open in front and laced up and down with buckskin strings. over the arms of the infant was a wooden bow, the ends of which were firmly attached to the board, so that if the cradle should fall the child's head and face would be protected. on this bow were hung curious playthings--strings of artistically carved bones and hoofs of deer, which rattled when the little hands moved them. in this upright cradle i lived, played, and slept the greater part of the time during the first few months of my life. whether i was made to lean against a lodge pole or was suspended from a bough of a tree, while my grandmother cut wood, or whether i was carried on her back, or conveniently balanced by another child in a similar cradle hung on the opposite side of a pony, i was still in my oaken bed. this grandmother, who had already lived through sixty years of hardships, was a wonder to the young maidens of the tribe. she showed no less enthusiasm over hakadah than she had done when she held her first-born, the boy's father, in her arms. every little attention that is due to a loved child she performed with much skill and devotion. she made all my scanty garments and my tiny moccasins with a great deal of taste. it was said by all that i could not have had more attention had my mother been living. uncheedah (grandmother) was a great singer. sometimes, when hakadah wakened too early in the morning, she would sing to him something like the following lullaby: sleep, sleep, my boy, the chippewas are far away--are far away. sleep, sleep, my boy; prepare to meet the foe by day--the foe by day! the cowards will not dare to fight till morning break--till morning break. sleep, sleep, my child, while still 'tis night; then bravely wake--then bravely wake! the dakota women were wont to cut and bring their fuel from the woods and, in fact, to perform most of the drudgery of the camp. this of necessity fell to their lot because the men must follow the game during the day. very often my grandmother carried me with her on these excursions; and while she worked it was her habit to suspend me from a wild grape vine or a springy bough, so that the least breeze would swing the cradle to and fro. she has told me that when i had grown old enough to take notice, i was apparently capable of holding extended conversations in an unknown dialect with birds and red squirrels. once i fell asleep in my cradle, suspended five or six feet from the ground, while uncheedah was some distance away, gathering birch bark for a canoe. a squirrel had found it convenient to come upon the bow of my cradle and nibble his hickory nut, until he awoke me by dropping the crumbs of his meal. it was a common thing for birds to alight on my cradle in the woods. after i left my cradle, i almost walked away from it, she told me. she then began calling my attention to natural objects. whenever i heard the song of a bird, she would tell me what bird it came from, something after this fashion: "hakadah, listen to shechoka (the robin) calling his mate. he says he has just found something good to eat." or "listen to oopehanska (the thrush); he is singing for his little wife. he will sing his best." when in the evening the whippoorwill started his song with vim, no further than a stone's throw from our tent in the woods, she would say to me: "hush! it may be an ojibway scout!" again, when i waked at midnight, she would say: "do not cry! hinakaga (the owl) is watching you from the tree-top." i usually covered up my head, for i had perfect faith in my grandmother's admonitions, and she had given me a dreadful idea of this bird. it was one of her legends that a little boy was once standing just outside of the teepee (tent), crying vigorously for his mother, when hinakaga swooped down in the darkness and carried the poor little fellow up into the trees. it was well known that the hoot of the owl was commonly imitated by indian scouts when on the war-path. there had been dreadful massacres immediately following this call. therefore it was deemed wise to impress the sound early upon the mind of the child. indian children were trained so that they hardly ever cried much in the night. this was very expedient and necessary in their exposed life. in my infancy it was my grandmother's custom to put me to sleep, as she said, with the birds, and to waken me with them, until it became a habit. she did this with an object in view. an indian must always rise early. in the first place, as a hunter, he finds his game best at daybreak. secondly, other tribes, when on the war-path, usually make their attack very early in the morning. even when our people are moving about leisurely, we like to rise before daybreak, in order to travel when the air is cool, and unobserved, perchance, by our enemies. as a little child, it was instilled into me to be silent and reticent. this was one of the most important traits to form in the character of the indian. as a hunter and warrior it was considered absolutely necessary to him, and was thought to lay the foundations of patience and self-control. ii early hardships one of the earliest recollections of my adventurous childhood is the ride i had on a pony's side. i was passive in the whole matter. a little girl cousin of mine was put in a bag and suspended from the horn of an indian saddle; but her weight must be balanced or the saddle would not remain on the animal's back. accordingly, i was put into another sack and made to keep the saddle and the girl in position! i did not object, for i had a very pleasant game of peek-a-boo with the little girl, until we came to a big snow-drift, where the poor beast was stuck fast and began to lie down. then it was not so nice! this was the convenient and primitive way in which some mothers packed their children for winter journeys. however cold the weather might be, the inmate of the fur-lined sack was usually very comfortable--at least i used to think so. i believe i was accustomed to all the precarious indian conveyances, and, as a boy, i enjoyed the dog-travaux ride as much as any. the travaux consisted of a set of rawhide strips securely lashed to the tent-poles, which were harnessed to the sides of the animal as if he stood between shafts, while the free ends were allowed to drag on the ground. both ponies and large dogs were used as beasts of burden, and they carried in this way the smaller children as well as the baggage. this mode of travelling for children was possible only in the summer, and as the dogs were sometimes unreliable, the little ones were exposed to a certain amount of danger. for instance, whenever a train of dogs had been travelling for a long time, almost perishing with the heat and their heavy loads, a glimpse of water would cause them to forget all their responsibilities. some of them, in spite of the screams of the women, would swim with their burdens into the cooling stream, and i was thus, on more than one occasion, made to partake of an unwilling bath. i was a little over four years old at the time of the "sioux massacre" in minnesota. in the general turmoil, we took flight into british columbia, and the journey is still vividly remembered by all our family. a yoke of oxen and a lumber-wagon were taken from some white farmer and brought home for our conveyance. how delighted i was when i learned that we were to ride behind those wise-looking animals and in that gorgeously painted wagon! it seemed almost like a living creature to me, this new vehicle with four legs, and the more so when we got out of axle-grease and the wheels went along squealing like pigs! the boys found a great deal of innocent fun in jumping from the high wagon while the oxen were leisurely moving along. my elder brothers soon became experts. at last, i mustered up courage enough to join them in this sport. i was sure they stepped on the wheel, so i cautiously placed my moccasined foot upon it. alas, before i could realize what had happened, i was under the wheels, and had it not been for the neighbor immediately behind us, i might have been run over by the next team as well. this was my first experience with a civilized vehicle. i cried out all possible reproaches on the white man's team and concluded that a dog-travaux was good enough for me. i was really rejoiced that we were moving away from the people who made the wagon that had almost ended my life, and it did not occur to me that i alone was to blame. i could not be persuaded to ride in that wagon again and was glad when we finally left it beside the missouri river. the summer after the "minnesota massacre," general sibley pursued our people across this river. now the missouri is considered one of the most treacherous rivers in the world. even a good modern boat is not safe upon its uncertain current. we were forced to cross in buffalo-skin boats--as round as tubs! the washechu (white men) were coming in great numbers with their big guns, and while most of our men were fighting them to gain time, the women and the old men made and equipped the temporary boats, braced with ribs of willow. some of these were towed by two or three women or men swimming in the water and some by ponies. it was not an easy matter to keep them right side up, with their helpless freight of little children and such goods as we possessed. in our flight, we little folks were strapped in the saddles or held in front of an older person, and in the long night marches to get away from the soldiers, we suffered from loss of sleep and insufficient food. our meals were eaten hastily, and sometimes in the saddle. water was not always to be found. the people carried it with them in bags formed of tripe or the dried pericardium of animals. now we were compelled to trespass upon the country of hostile tribes and were harassed by them almost daily and nightly. only the strictest vigilance saved us. one day we met with another enemy near the british lines. it was a prairie fire. we were surrounded. another fire was quickly made, which saved our lives. one of the most thrilling experiences of the following winter was a blizzard, which overtook us in our wanderings. here and there, a family lay down in the snow, selecting a place where it was not likely to drift much. for a day and a night we lay under the snow. uncle stuck a long pole beside us to tell us when the storm was over. we had plenty of buffalo robes and the snow kept us warm, but we found it heavy. after a time, it became packed and hollowed out around our bodies, so that we were as comfortable as one can be under those circumstances. the next day the storm ceased, and we discovered a large herd of buffaloes almost upon us. we dug our way out, shot some of the buffaloes, made a fire and enjoyed a good dinner. i was now an exile as well as motherless; yet i was not unhappy. our wanderings from place to place afforded us many pleasant experiences and quite as many hardships and misfortunes. there were times of plenty and times of scarcity, and we had several narrow escapes from death. in savage life, the early spring is the most trying time and almost all the famines occurred at this period of the year. the indians are a patient and a clannish people; their love for one another is stronger than that of any civilized people i know. if this were not so, i believe there would have been tribes of cannibals among them. white people have been known to kill and eat their companions in preference to starving; but indians--never! in times of famine, the adults often denied themselves in order to make the food last as long as possible for the children, who were not able to bear hunger as well as the old. as a people, they can live without food much longer than any other nation. i once passed through one of these hard springs when we had nothing to eat for several days. i well remember the six small birds which constituted the breakfast for six families one morning; and then we had no dinner or supper to follow! what a relief that was to me--although i had only a small wing of a small bird for my share! soon after this, we came into a region where buffaloes were plenty, and hunger and scarcity were forgotten. such was the indians' wild life! when game was to be had and the sun shone, they easily forgot the bitter experiences of the winter before. little preparation was made for the future. they are children of nature, and occasionally she whips them with the lashes of experience, yet they are forgetful and careless. much of their suffering might have been prevented by a little calculation. during the summer, when nature is at her best, and provides abundantly for the savage, it seems to me that no life is happier than his! food is free--lodging free--everything free! all were alike rich in the summer, and, again, all were alike poor in the winter and early spring. however, their diseases were fewer and not so destructive as now, and the indian's health was generally good. the indian boy enjoyed such a life as almost all boys dream of and would choose for themselves if they were permitted to do so. the raids made upon our people by other tribes were frequent, and we had to be constantly on the watch. i remember at one time a night attack was made upon our camp and all our ponies stampeded. only a few of them were recovered, and our journeys after this misfortune were effected mostly by means of the dog-travaux. the second winter after the massacre, my father and my two older brothers, with several others, were betrayed by a half-breed at winnipeg to the united states authorities. as i was then living with my uncle in another part of the country, i became separated from them for ten years. during all this time we believed that they had been killed by the whites, and i was taught that i must avenge their deaths as soon as i was able to go upon the war-path. iii an indian sugar camp with the first march thaw the thoughts of the indian women of my childhood days turned promptly to the annual sugar-making. this industry was chiefly followed by the old men and women and the children. the rest of the tribe went out upon the spring fur-hunt at this season, leaving us at home to make the sugar. the first and most important of the necessary utensils were the huge iron and brass kettles for boiling. everything else could be made, but these must be bought, begged or borrowed. a maple tree was felled and a log canoe hollowed out, into which the sap was to be gathered. little troughs of basswood and birchen basins were also made to receive the sweet drops as they trickled from the tree. as soon as these labors were accomplished, we all proceeded to the bark sugar house, which stood in the midst of a fine grove of maples on the bank of the minnesota river. we found this hut partially filled with the snows of winter and the withered leaves of the preceding autumn, and it must be cleared for our use. in the meantime a tent was pitched outside for a few days' occupancy. the snow was still deep in the woods, with a solid crust upon which we could easily walk; for we usually moved to the sugar house before the sap had actually started, the better to complete our preparations. my grandmother did not confine herself to canoe-making. she also collected a good supply of fuel for the fires, for she would not have much time to gather wood when the sap began to flow. presently the weather moderated and the snow began to melt. the month of april brought showers which carried most of it off into the minnesota river. now the women began to test the trees--moving leisurely among them, axe in hand, and striking a single quick blow, to see if the sap would appear. trees, like people, have their individual characters; some were ready to yield up their life-blood, while others were more reluctant. now one of the birchen basins was set under each tree, and a hardwood chip driven deep into the cut which the axe had made. from the corners of this chip--at first drop by drop, then, more freely--the sap trickled into the little dishes. it is usual to make sugar from maples, but several other trees were also tapped by the indians. from the birch and ash was made a dark-colored sugar, with a somewhat bitter taste, which was used for medicinal purposes. the box-elder yielded a beautiful white sugar, whose only fault was that there was never enough of it! a long fire was now made in the sugar house, and a row of brass kettles suspended over the blaze. the sap was collected by the women in tin or birchen buckets and poured into the canoes, from which the kettles were kept filled. the hearts of the boys beat high with pleasant anticipations when they heard the welcome hissing sound of the boiling sap! each boy claimed one kettle for his especial charge. it was his duty to see that the fire was kept under it, to watch lest it boil over, and finally, when the sap became sirup, to test it upon the snow, dipping it out with a wooden paddle. so frequent were these tests that for the first day or two we consumed nearly all that could be made; and it was not until the sweetness began to pall that my grandmother set herself in earnest to store up sugar for future use. she made it into cakes of various forms, in birchen molds, and sometimes in hollow canes or reeds, and the bills of ducks and geese. some of it was pulverized and packed in rawhide cases. being a prudent woman, she did not give it to us after the first month or so, except upon special occasions, and it was thus made to last almost the year around. the smaller candies were reserved as an occasional treat for the little fellows, and the sugar was eaten at feasts with wild rice or parched corn, and also with pounded dried meat. coffee and tea, with their substitutes, were all unknown to us in those days. every pursuit has its trials and anxieties. my grandmother's special tribulations, during the sugaring season, were the upsetting and gnawing of holes in her birch-bark pans. the transgressors were the rabbit and squirrel tribes, and we little boys for once became useful, in shooting them with our bows and arrows. we hunted all over the sugar camp, until the little creatures were fairly driven out of the neighborhood. occasionally one of my older brothers brought home a rabbit or two, and then we had a feast. i remember on this occasion of our last sugar bush in minnesota, that i stood one day outside of our hut and watched the approach of a visitor--a bent old man, his hair almost white, and carrying on his back a large bundle of red willow, or kinnikinick, which the indians use for smoking. he threw down his load at the door and thus saluted us: "you have indeed perfect weather for sugar-making." it was my great-grandfather, cloud man, whose original village was on the shores of lakes calhoun and harriet, now in the suburbs of the city of minneapolis. he was the first sioux chief to welcome the protestant missionaries among his people, and a well-known character in those pioneer days. he brought us word that some of the peaceful sugar-makers near us on the river had been attacked and murdered by roving ojibways. this news disturbed us not a little, for we realized that we too might become the victims of an ojibway war party. therefore we all felt some uneasiness from this time until we returned heavy laden to our village. iv games and sports the indian boy was a prince of the wilderness. he had but very little work to do during the period of his boyhood. his principal occupation was the practice of a few simple arts in warfare and the chase. aside from this, he was master of his time. it is true that our savage life was a precarious one, and full of dreadful catastrophes; however, this never prevented us from enjoying our sports to the fullest extent. as we left our teepees in the morning, we were never sure that our scalps would not dangle from a pole in the afternoon! it was an uncertain life, to be sure. yet we observed that the fawns skipped and played happily while the gray wolves might be peeping forth from behind the hills, ready to tear them limb from limb. our sports were molded by the life and customs of our people; indeed, we practiced only what we expected to do when grown. our games were feats with the bow and arrow, foot and pony races, wrestling, swimming and imitation of the customs and habits of our fathers. we had sham fights with mud balls and willow wands; we played lacrosse, made war upon bees, shot winter arrows (which were used only in that season), and coasted upon the ribs of animals and buffalo robes. no sooner did the boys get together than, as a usual thing, they divided into squads and chose sides; then a leading arrow was shot at random into the air. before it fell to the ground a volley from the bows of the participants followed. each player was quick to note the direction and speed of the leading arrow and he tried to send his own at the same speed and at an equal height, so that when it fell it would be closer to the first than any of the others. it was considered out of place to shoot by first sighting the object aimed at. this was usually impracticable in actual life, because the object was almost always in motion, while the hunter himself was often upon the back of a pony at full gallop. therefore, it was the off-hand shot that the indian boy sought to master. there was another game with arrows that was characterized by gambling, and was generally confined to the men. the races were an every-day occurrence. at noon the boys were usually gathered by some pleasant sheet of water, and as soon as the ponies were watered, they were allowed to graze for an hour or two, while the boys stripped for their noonday sports. a boy might say to some other whom he considered his equal: "i can't run; but i will challenge you to fifty paces." a former hero, when beaten, would often explain his defeat by saying: "i drank too much water." boys of all ages were paired for a "spin," and the little red men cheered on their favorites with spirit. as soon as this was ended, the pony races followed. all the speedy ponies were picked out and riders chosen. if a boy declined to ride, there would be shouts of derision. last of all came the swimming. a little urchin would hang to his pony's long tail, while the latter, with only his head above water, glided sportively along. finally the animals were driven into a fine field of grass and we turned our attention to other games. the "mud-and-willow" fight was rather a severe and dangerous sport. a lump of soft clay was stuck on the end of a limber and springy willow wand and thrown as boys throw apples from sticks, with considerable force. when there were fifty or a hundred players on each side, the battle became warm; but anything to arouse the bravery of indian boys seemed to them a good and wholesome diversion. wrestling was largely indulged in by us all. it may seem odd, but wrestling was done by a great many boys at once--from ten to any number on a side. it was really a battle, in which each one chose his opponent. the rule was that if a boy sat down, he was let alone, but as long as he remained standing within the field, he was open to an attack. no one struck with the hand, but all manner of tripping with legs and feet and butting with the knees was allowed. altogether it was an exhausting pastime--fully equal to the american game of football, and only the young athlete could really enjoy it. one of our most curious sports was a war upon the nests of wild bees. we imagined ourselves about to make an attack upon the ojibways or some tribal foe. we all painted and stole cautiously upon the nest; then, with a rush and war-whoop, sprang upon the object of our attack and endeavored to destroy it. but it seemed that the bees were always on the alert and never entirely surprised, for they always raised quite as many scalps as did their bold assailants! after the onslaught upon the nest was ended, we usually followed it by a pretended scalp dance. on the occasion of my first experience in this mode of warfare, there were two other little boys who were also novices. one of them particularly was really too young to indulge in an exploit of that kind. as it was the custom of our people, when they killed or wounded an enemy on the battle-field, to announce the act in a loud voice, we did the same. my friend, little wound (as i will call him, for i do not remember his name), being quite small, was unable to reach the nest until it had been well trampled upon and broken and the insects had made a counter charge with such vigor as to repulse and scatter our numbers in every direction. however, he evidently did not want to retreat without any honors; so he bravely jumped upon the nest and yelled: "i, the brave little wound, to-day kill the only fierce enemy!" [illustration: so he bravely jumped upon the nest. _page ._] scarcely were the last words uttered when he screamed as if stabbed to the heart. one of his older companions shouted: "dive into the water! run! dive into the water!" for there was a lake near by. this advice he obeyed. when we had reassembled and were indulging in our mimic dance, little wound was not allowed to dance. he was considered not to be in existence--he had been killed by our enemies, the bee tribe. poor little fellow! his swollen face was sad and ashamed as he sat on a fallen log and watched the dance. although he might well have styled himself one of the noble dead who had died for their country, yet he was not unmindful that he had _screamed_, and this weakness would be apt to recur to him many times in the future. we had some quiet plays which we alternated with the more severe and warlike ones. among them were throwing wands and snow-arrows. in the winter we coasted much. we had no "double-rippers" or toboggans, but six or seven of the long ribs of a buffalo, fastened together at the larger end, answered all practical purposes. sometimes a strip of bass-wood bark, four feet long and about six inches wide, was used with considerable skill. we stood on one end and held the other, using the slippery inside of the bark for the outside, and thus coasting down long hills with remarkable speed. the spinning of tops was one of the all-absorbing winter sports. we made our tops heart-shaped of wood, horn or bone. we whipped them with a long thong of buckskin. the handle was a stick about a foot long and sometimes we whittled the stick to make it spoon-shaped at one end. we played games with these tops--two to fifty boys at one time. each whips his top until it hums; then one takes the lead and the rest follow in a sort of obstacle race. the top must spin all the way through. there were bars of snow over which we must pilot our top in the spoon end of our whip; then again we would toss it in the air on to another open spot of ice or smooth snow-crust from twenty to fifty paces away. the top that holds out the longest is the winner. we loved to play in the water. when we had no ponies, we often had swimming matches of our own, and sometimes made rafts with which we crossed lakes and rivers. it was a common thing to "duck" a young or timid boy or to carry him into deep water to struggle as best he might. i remember a perilous ride with a companion on an unmanageable log, when we were both less than seven years old. the older boys had put us on this uncertain bark and pushed us out into the swift current of the river. i cannot speak for my comrade in distress, but i can say now that i would rather ride on a swift bronco any day than try to stay on and steady a short log in a river. i never knew how we managed to prevent a shipwreck on that voyage and to reach the shore. we had many curious wild pets. there were young foxes, bears, wolves, raccoons, fawns, buffalo calves and birds of all kinds, tamed by various boys. my pets were different at different times, but i particularly remember one. i once had a grizzly bear for a pet, and so far as he and i were concerned, our relations were charming and very close. but i hardly know whether he made more enemies for me or i for him. it was his habit to treat every boy unmercifully who injured me. v an indian boy's training very early, the indian boy assumed the task of preserving and transmitting the legends of his ancestors and his race. almost every evening a myth, or a true story of some deed done in the past, was narrated by one of the parents or grand-parents, while the boy listened with parted lips and glistening eyes. on the following evening, he was usually required to repeat it. if he was not an apt scholar, he struggled long with his task; but, as a rule, the indian boy is a good listener and has a good memory, so that the stories were tolerably well mastered. the household became his audience, by which he was alternately criticized and applauded. this sort of teaching at once enlightens the boy's mind and stimulates his ambition. his conception of his own future career becomes a vivid and irresistible force. whatever there is for him to learn must be learned; whatever qualifications are necessary to a truly great man he must seek at any expense of danger and hardship. such was the feeling of the imaginative and brave young indian. it became apparent to him in early life that he must accustom himself to rove alone and not to fear or dislike the impression of solitude. it seems to be a popular idea that all the characteristic skill of the indian is instinctive and hereditary. this is a mistake. all the stoicism and patience of the indian are acquired traits, and continual practice alone makes him master of the art of wood-craft. physical training and dieting were not neglected. i remember that i was not allowed to have beef soup or any warm drink. the soup was for the old men. general rules for the young were never to take their food very hot, nor to drink much water. my uncle, who educated me up to the age of fifteen years, was a strict disciplinarian and a good teacher. when i left the teepee in the morning, he would say: "hakadah, look closely to everything you see"; and at evening, on my return, he used often to catechize me for an hour or so. "on which side of the trees is the lighter-colored bark? on which side do they have most regular branches?" it was his custom to let me name all the new birds that i had seen during the day. i would name them according to the color or the shape of the bill or their song or the appearance and locality of the nest--in fact, anything about the bird that impressed me as characteristic. i made many ridiculous errors, i must admit. he then usually informed me of the correct name. occasionally i made a hit and this he would warmly commend. he went much deeper into this science when i was a little older, that is, about the age of eight or nine years. he would say, for instance: "how do you know that there are fish in yonder lake?" "because they jump out of the water for flies at mid-day." he would smile at my prompt but superficial reply. "what do you think of the little pebbles grouped together under the shallow water? and what made the pretty curved marks in the sandy bottom and the little sand-banks? where do you find the fish-eating birds? have the inlet and the outlet of a lake anything to do with the question?" he did not expect a correct reply at once to all the questions that he put to me on these occasions, but he meant to make me observant and a good student of nature. "hakadah," he would say to me, "you ought to follow the example of the shunktokecha (wolf). even when he is surprised and runs for his life, he will pause to take one more look at you before he enters his final retreat. so you must take a second look at everything you see. "it is better to view animals unobserved. i have been a witness to their courtships and their quarrels and have learned many of their secrets in this way. i was once the unseen spectator of a thrilling battle between a pair of grizzly bears and three buffaloes--a rash act for the bears, for it was in the moon of strawberries, when the buffaloes sharpen and polish their horns for bloody contests among themselves. "i advise you, my boy, never to approach a grizzly's den from the front, but to steal up behind and throw your blanket or a stone in front of the hole. he does not usually rush for it, but first puts his head out and listens and then comes out very indifferently and sits on his haunches on the mound in front of the hole before he makes any attack. while he is exposing himself in this fashion, aim at his heart. always be as cool as the animal himself." thus he armed me against the cunning of savage beasts by teaching me how to outwit them. "in hunting," he would resume, "you will be guided by the habits of the animal you seek. remember that a moose stays in swampy or low land or between high mountains near a spring or lake, for thirty to sixty days at a time. most large game moves about continually, except the doe in the spring; it is then a very easy matter to find her with the fawn. conceal yourself in a convenient place as soon as you observe any signs of the presence of either, and then call with your birchen doe-caller. "whichever one hears you first will soon appear in your neighborhood. but you must be very watchful, or you may be made a fawn of by a large wild-cat. they understand the characteristic call of the doe perfectly well. "when you have any difficulty with a bear or a wild-cat--that is, if the creature shows any signs of attacking you--you must make him fully understand that you have seen him and are aware of his intentions. if you are not well equipped for a pitched battle, the only way to make him retreat is to take a long sharp-pointed pole for a spear and rush toward him. no wild beast will face this unless he is cornered and already wounded. these fierce beasts are generally afraid of the common weapon of the larger animals,--the horns,--and if these are very long and sharp, they dare not risk an open fight. "there is one exception to this rule--the gray wolf will attack fiercely when very hungry. but their courage depends upon their numbers; in this they are like white men. one wolf or two will never attack a man. they will stampede a herd of buffaloes in order to get at the calves; they will rush upon a herd of antelopes, for these are helpless; but they are always careful about attacking man." of this nature were the instructions of my uncle, who was widely known at that time as among the greatest hunters of his tribe. all boys were expected to endure hardship without complaint. in savage warfare, a young man must, of course, be an athlete and used to undergoing all sorts of privations. he must be able to go without food and water for two or three days without displaying any weakness, or to run for a day and a night without any rest. he must be able to traverse a pathless and wild country without losing his way either in the day or night time. he cannot refuse to do any of these things if he aspires to be a warrior. sometimes my uncle would waken me very early in the morning and challenge me to fast with him all day. i had to accept the challenge. we blackened our faces with charcoal, so that every boy in the village would know that i was fasting for the day. then the little tempters would make my life a misery until the merciful sun hid behind the western hills. i can scarcely recall the time when my stern teacher began to give sudden war-whoops over my head in the morning while i was sound asleep. he expected me to leap up with perfect presence of mind, always ready to grasp a weapon of some sort and to give a shrill whoop in reply. if i was sleepy or startled and hardly knew what i was about, he would ridicule me and say that i need never expect to sell my scalp dear. often he would vary these tactics by shooting off his gun just outside of the lodge while i was yet asleep, at the same time giving blood-curdling yells. after a time i became used to this. when indians went upon the war-path, it was their custom to try the new warriors thoroughly before coming to an engagement. for instance, when they were near a hostile camp, they would select the novices to go after the water and make them do all sorts of things to prove their courage. in accordance with this idea, my uncle used to send me off after water when we camped after dark in a strange place. perhaps the country was full of wild beasts, and, for aught i knew, there might be scouts from hostile bands of indians lurking in that very neighborhood. yet i never objected, for that would show cowardice. i picked my way through the woods, dipped my pail in the water and hurried back, always careful to make as little noise as a cat. being only a boy, my heart would leap at every crackling of a dry twig or distant hooting of an owl, until, at last, i reached our teepee. then my uncle would perhaps say: "ah, hakadah, you are a thorough warrior!" empty out the precious contents of the pail, and order me to go a second time. imagine how i felt! but i wished to be a brave man as much as a white boy desires to be a great lawyer or even president of the united states. silently i would take the pail and endeavor to retrace my foot-steps in the dark. with all this, our manners and morals were not neglected. i was made to respect the adults and especially the aged. i was not allowed to join in their discussions, nor even to speak in their presence, unless requested to do so. indian etiquette was very strict, and among the requirements was that of avoiding the direct address. a term of relationship or some title of courtesy was commonly used instead of the personal name by those who wished to show respect. we were taught generosity to the poor and reverence for the "great mystery." religion was the basis of all indian training. vi the boy hunter there was almost as much difference between the indian boys who were brought up on the open prairies and those of the woods, as between city and country boys. the hunting of the prairie boys was limited and their knowledge of natural history imperfect. they were, as a rule, good riders, but in all-round physical development much inferior to the red men of the forest. our hunting varied with the season of the year, and the nature of the country which was for the time our home. our chief weapon was the bow and arrows, and perhaps, if we were lucky, a knife was possessed by some one in the crowd. in the olden times, knives and hatchets were made from bone and sharp stones. for fire we used a flint with a spongy piece of dry wood and a stone to strike with. another way of starting fire was for several of the boys to sit down in a circle and rub two pieces of dry, spongy wood together, one after another, until the wood took fire. we hunted in company a great deal, though it was a common thing for a boy to set out for the woods quite alone, and he usually enjoyed himself fully as much. our game consisted mainly of small birds, rabbits, squirrels and grouse. fishing, too, occupied much of our time. we hardly ever passed a creek or a pond without searching for some signs of fish. when fish were present, we always managed to get some. fish-lines were made of wild hemp, sinew or horse-hair. we either caught fish with lines, snared or speared them, or shot them with bow and arrows. in the fall we charmed them up to the surface by gently tickling them with a stick and quickly threw them out. we have sometimes dammed the brooks and driven the larger fish into a willow basket made for that purpose. it was part of our hunting to find new and strange things in the woods. we examined the slightest sign of life; and if a bird had scratched the leaves off the ground, or a bear dragged up a root for his morning meal, we stopped to speculate on the time it was done. if we saw a large old tree with some scratches on its bark, we concluded that a bear or some raccoons must be living there. in that case we did not go any nearer than was necessary, but later reported the incident at home. an old deer-track would at once bring on a warm discussion as to whether it was the track of a buck or a doe. generally, at noon, we met and compared our game, noting at the same time the peculiar characteristics of everything we had killed. it was not merely a hunt, for we combined with it the study of animal life. we also kept strict account of our game, and thus learned who were the best shots among the boys. i am sorry to say that we were merciless toward the birds. we often took their eggs and their young ones. my brother chatanna and i once had a disagreeable adventure while bird-hunting. we were accustomed to catch in our hands young ducks and geese during the summer, and while doing this we happened to find a crane's nest. of course, we were delighted with our good luck. but, as it was already midsummer, the young cranes--two in number--were rather large and they were a little way from the nest; we also observed that the two old cranes were in a swampy place near by; but, as it was moulting-time, we did not suppose that they would venture on dry land. so we proceeded to chase the young birds; but they were fleet runners and it took us some time to come up with them. meanwhile, the parent birds had heard the cries of their little ones and come to their rescue. they were chasing us, while we followed the birds. it was really a perilous encounter! our strong bows finally gained the victory in a hand-to-hand struggle with the angry cranes; but after that we hardly ever hunted a crane's nest. almost all birds make some resistance when their eggs or young are taken, but they will seldom attack man fearlessly. we used to climb large trees for birds of all kinds; but we never undertook to get young owls unless they were on the ground. the hooting owl especially is a dangerous bird to attack under these circumstances. i was once trying to catch a yellow-winged woodpecker in its nest when my arm became twisted and lodged in the deep hole so that i could not get it out without the aid of a knife; but we were a long way from home and my only companion was a deaf-mute cousin of mine. i was about fifty feet up in the tree, in a very uncomfortable position, but i had to wait there for more than an hour before he brought me the knife with which i finally released myself. our devices for trapping small animals were rude, but they were often successful. for instance, we used to gather up a peck or so of large, sharp-pointed burrs and scatter them in the rabbit's furrow-like path. in the morning, we would find the little fellow sitting quietly in his tracks, unable to move, for the burrs stuck to his feet. another way of snaring rabbits and grouse was the following: we made nooses of twisted horse-hair, which we tied very firmly to the top of a limber young tree, then bent the latter down to the track and fastened the whole with a slip-knot, after adjusting the noose. when the rabbit runs his head through the noose, he pulls the slip-knot and is quickly carried up by the spring of the young tree. this is a good plan, for the rabbit is out of harm's way as he swings high in the air. perhaps the most enjoyable of all was the chipmunk hunt. we killed these animals at any time of year, but the special time to hunt them was in march. after the first thaw, the chipmunks burrow a hole through the snow crust and make their first appearance for the season. sometimes as many as fifty will come together and hold a social reunion. these gatherings occur early in the morning, from daybreak to about nine o'clock. we boys learned this, among other secrets of nature, and got our blunt-headed arrows together in good season for the chipmunk expedition. we generally went in groups of six to a dozen or fifteen, to see which would get the most. on the evening before, we selected several boys who could imitate the chipmunk's call with wild oat-straws and each of these provided himself with a supply of straws. the crust will hold the boys nicely at this time of the year. bright and early, they all come together at the appointed place, from which each group starts out in a different direction, agreeing to meet somewhere at a given position of the sun. my first experience of this kind is still well remembered. it was a fine crisp march morning, and the sun had not yet shown himself among the distant tree-tops as we hurried along through the ghostly wood. presently we arrived at a place where there were many signs of the animals. then each of us selected a tree and took up his position behind it. the chipmunk-caller sat upon a log as motionless as he could, and began to call. soon we heard the patter of little feet on the hard snow; then we saw the chipmunks approaching from all directions. some stopped and ran experimentally up a tree or a log, as if uncertain of the exact direction of the call; others chased one another about. in a few minutes, the chipmunk-caller was besieged with them. some ran all over his person, others under him and still others ran up the tree against which he was sitting. each boy remained immovable until their leader gave the signal; then a great shout arose, and the chipmunks in their flight all ran up the different trees. now the shooting-match began. the little creatures seemed to realize their hopeless position; they would try again and again to come down the trees and flee away from the deadly aim of the youthful hunters. but they were shot down very fast; and whenever several of them rushed toward the ground, the little redskin hugged the tree and yelled frantically to scare them up again. each boy shoots always against the trunk of the tree, so that the arrow may bound back to him every time; otherwise, when he had shot away all of them, he would be helpless, and another, who had cleared his own tree, would come and take away his game, so there was warm competition. sometimes a desperate chipmunk would jump from the top of the tree in order to escape, which was considered a joke on the boy who lost it and a triumph for the brave little animal. at last all were killed or gone, and then we went on to another place, keeping up the sport until the sun came out and the chipmunks refused to answer the call. vii evening in the lodge i had been skating on that part of the lake where there was an overflow, and came home somewhat cold. i cannot say just how cold it was, but it must have been intensely so, for the trees were cracking all about me like pistol-shots. i did not mind, because i was wrapped up in my buffalo robe with the hair inside, and a wide leather belt held it about my loins. my skates were nothing more than strips of basswood bark bound upon my feet. i had taken off my frozen moccasins and put on dry ones in their places. "where have you been and what have you been doing?" uncheedah asked as she placed before me some roast venison in a wooden bowl. "did you see any tracks of moose or bear?" "no, grandmother, i have only been playing at the lower end of the lake. i have something to ask you," i said, eating my dinner and supper together with all the relish of a hungry boy who has been skating in the cold for half a day. "i found this feather, grandmother, and i could not make out what tribe wear feathers in that shape." "ugh, i am not a man; you had better ask your uncle. besides, you should know it yourself by this time. you are now old enough to think about eagle feathers." i felt mortified by this reminder of my ignorance. it seemed a reflection on me that i was not ambitious enough to have found all such matters out before. "uncle, you will tell me, won't you?" i said, in an appealing tone. "i am surprised, my boy, that you should fail to recognize this feather. it is a cree medicine feather, and not a warrior's." "then," i said, with much embarrassment, "you had better tell me again, uncle, the language of the feathers. i have really forgotten it all." the day was now gone; the moon had risen; but the cold had not lessened, for the trunks of the trees were still snapping all around our teepee, which was lighted and warmed by the immense logs which uncheedah's industry had provided. my uncle, white footprint, now undertook to explain to me the significance of the eagle's feather. "the eagle is the most war-like bird," he began, "and the most kingly of all birds; besides, his feathers are unlike any others, and these are the reasons why they are used by our people to signify deeds of bravery. "it is not true that when a man wears a feather bonnet, each one of the feathers represents the killing of a foe or even a _coup_. when a man wears an eagle feather upright upon his head, he is supposed to have counted one of four _coups_ upon his enemy." "well, then, a _coup_ does not mean the killing of an enemy?" "no, it is the after-stroke or touching of the body after he falls. it is so ordered, because oftentimes the touching of an enemy is much more difficult to accomplish than the shooting of one from a distance. it requires a strong heart to face the whole body of the enemy, in order to count the _coup_ on the fallen one, who lies under cover of his kinsmen's fire. many a brave man has been lost in the attempt. "when a warrior approaches his foe, dead or alive, he calls upon the other warriors to witness by saying: 'i, fearless bear, your brave, again perform the brave deed of counting the first (or second or third or fourth) _coup_ upon the body of the bravest of your enemies.' naturally, those who are present will see the act and be able to testify to it. when they return, the heralds, as you know, announce publicly all such deeds of valor, which then become a part of the man's war record. any brave who would wear the eagle's feather must give proof of his right to do so. "when a brave is wounded in the same battle where he counted his _coup_, he wears the feather hanging downward. when he is wounded, but makes no count, he trims his feather, and in that case it need not be an eagle feather. all other feathers are merely ornaments. when a warrior wears a feather with a round mark, it means that he slew his enemy. when the mark is cut into the feather and painted red, it means that he took the scalp. "a brave who has been successful in ten battles is entitled to a war-bonnet; and if he is a recognized leader, he is permitted to wear one with long, trailing plumes. also those who have counted many _coups_ may tip the ends of the feathers with bits of white or colored down. sometimes the eagle feather is tipped with a strip of weasel skin; that means the wearer had the honor of killing, scalping and counting the first _coup_ upon the enemy all at the same time. "this feather you have found was worn by a cree--it is indiscriminately painted. all other feathers worn by the common indians mean nothing," he added. "tell me, uncle, whether it would be proper for me to wear any feathers at all if i have never gone upon the war-path." "you could wear any other kind of feathers, but not an eagle's," replied my uncle, "although sometimes one is worn on great occasions by the child of a noted man, to indicate the father's dignity and position." the fire had gone down somewhat, so i pushed the embers together and wrapped my robe more closely about me. now and then the ice on the lake would burst with a loud report like thunder. uncheedah was busy re-stringing one of uncle's old snow-shoes. there were two different kinds that he wore; one with a straight toe and long; the other shorter and with an upturned toe. she had one of the shoes fastened toe down, between sticks driven into the ground, while she put in some new strings and tightened the others. aunt four stars was beading a new pair of moccasins. wabeda, the dog, the companion of my boyhood days, was in trouble because he insisted upon bringing his extra bone into the teepee, while uncheedah was determined that he should not. i sympathized with him, because i saw the matter as he did. if he should bury it in the snow outside, i knew shunktokecha (the coyote) would surely steal it. i knew just how anxious wabeda was about his bone. it was a fat bone--i mean a bone of a fat deer; and all indians know how much better they are than the other kind. wabeda always hated to see a good thing go to waste. his eyes spoke words to me, for he and i had been friends for a long time. when i was afraid of anything in the woods, he would get in front of me at once and gently wag his tail. he always made it a point to look directly in my face. his kind, large eyes gave me a thousand assurances. when i was perplexed, he would hang about me until he understood the situation. many times i believed he saved my life by uttering the dog word in time. most animals, even the dangerous grizzly, do not care to be seen when the two-legged kind and his dog are about. when i feared a surprise by a bear or a gray wolf, i would say to wabeda: "now, my dog, give your war-whoop!" and immediately he would sit up on his haunches and bark "to beat the band," as you white boys say. when a bear or wolf heard the noise, he would be apt to retreat. sometimes i helped wabeda and gave a war-whoop of my own. this drove the deer away as well, but it relieved my mind. when he appealed to me on this occasion, therefore, i said: "come, my dog, let us bury your bone so that no shunktokecha will take it." he appeared satisfied with my suggestion, so we went out together. we dug in the snow and buried our bone wrapped up in a piece of old blanket, partly burned; then we covered it up again with snow. we knew that the coyote would not touch anything burnt. i did not put it up a tree because wabeda always objected to that, and i made it a point to consult his wishes whenever i could. i came in and wabeda followed me with two short rib bones in his mouth. apparently he did not care to risk those delicacies. "there," exclaimed uncheedah, "you still insist upon bringing in some sort of bone!" but i begged her to let him gnaw them inside because it was so cold. having been granted this privilege, he settled himself at my back and i became absorbed in some specially nice arrows that uncle was making. "oh, uncle, you must put on three feathers to all of them so that they can fly straight," i suggested. "yes, but if there are only two feathers, they will fly faster," he answered. "woow!" wabeda uttered his suspicions. "woow!" he said again, and rushed for the entrance of the teepee. he kicked me over as he went and scattered the burning embers. "en na he na!" uncheedah exclaimed, but he was already outside. "wow, wow, wow! wow, wow, wow!" a deep guttural voice answered him. out i rushed with my bow and arrows in my hand. "come, uncle, come! a big cinnamon bear!" i shouted as i emerged from the teepee. uncle sprang out, and in a moment he had sent a swift arrow through the bear's heart. the animal fell dead. he had just begun to dig up wabeda's bone, when the dog's quick ear had heard the sound. "ah, uncle, wabeda and i ought to have at least a little eaglet's feather for this! i too sent my small arrow into the bear before he fell," i exclaimed. "but i thought all bears ought to be in their lodges in the winter time. what was this one doing at this time of the year and night?" "well," said my uncle, "i will tell you. among the tribes, some are naturally lazy. the cinnamon bear is the lazy one of his tribe. he alone sleeps out of doors in the winter, and because he has not a warm bed, he is soon hungry. sometimes he lives in the hollow trunk of a tree, where he has made a bed of dry grass; but when the night is very cold, like to-night, he has to move about to keep himself from freezing, and as he prowls around, he gets hungry." we dragged the huge carcass within our lodge. "oh, what nice claws he has, uncle!" i exclaimed eagerly. "can i have them for my necklace?" [illustration: "oh, what nice claws he has, uncle!" i exclaimed eagerly. _page ._] "it is only the old medicine-men who wear them regularly. the son of a great warrior who has killed a grizzly may wear them upon a public occasion," he explained. "and you are just like my father and are considered the best hunter among the santees and sissetons. you have killed many grizzlies, so that no one can object to my bear's-claw necklace," i said appealingly. white foot-print smiled. "my boy, you shall have them," he said, "but it is always better to earn them yourself." he cut the claws off carefully for my use. "tell me, uncle, whether you could wear these claws all the time?" i asked. "yes, i am entitled to wear them, but they are so heavy and uncomfortable," he replied, with a superior air. at last the bear had been skinned and dressed and we all resumed our usual places. uncheedah was particularly pleased to have some more fat for her cooking. "now, grandmother, tell me the story of the bear's fat. i shall be so happy if you will," i begged. "it is a good story and it is true. you should know it by heart and gain a lesson from it," she replied. "it was in the forests of minnesota, in the country that now belongs to the ojibways. from the bedawakanton sioux village a young married couple went into the woods to get fresh venison. the snow was deep; the ice was thick. far away in the woods they pitched their lonely teepee. the young man was a well-known hunter and his wife a good maiden of the village. "he hunted entirely on snow-shoes, because the snow was very deep. his wife had to wear snow-shoes too, to get to the spot where they pitched their tent. it was thawing the day they went out, so their path was distinct after the freeze came again. "the young man killed many deer and bears. his wife was very busy curing the meat and trying out the fat while he was away hunting each day. in the evenings she kept on trying the fat. he sat on one side of the teepee and she on the other. "one evening, she had just lowered a kettle of fat to cool, and as she looked into the hot fat she saw the face of an ojibway scout looking down at them through the smoke-hole. she said nothing, nor did she betray herself in any way. "after a little she said to her husband in a natural voice: 'marpeetopah, some one is looking at us through the smoke-hole, and i think it is an enemy's scout.' "then marpeetopah (four-skies) took up his bow and arrows and began to straighten and dry them for the next day's hunt, talking and laughing meanwhile. suddenly he turned and sent an arrow upward, killing the ojibway, who fell dead at their door. "'quick, wadutah!' he exclaimed; 'you must hurry home upon our trail. i will stay here. when this scout does not return, the war-party may come in a body or send another scout. if only one comes, i can soon dispatch him and then i will follow you. if i do not do that, they will overtake us in our flight.' "wadutah (scarlet) protested and begged to be allowed to stay with her husband, but at last she came away to get re-inforcements. "then marpeetopah (four-skies) put more sticks on the fire so that the teepee might be brightly lit and show him the way. he then took the scalp of the enemy and proceeded on his track, until he came to the upturned root of a great tree. there he spread out his arrows and laid out his tomahawk. "soon two more scouts were sent by the ojibway war-party to see what was the trouble and why the first one failed to come back. he heard them as they approached. they were on snow-shoes. when they came close to him, he shot an arrow into the foremost. as for the other, in his effort to turn quickly his snow-shoes stuck in the deep snow and detained him, so marpeetopah killed them both. "quickly he took the scalps and followed wadutah. he ran hard. but the ojibways suspected something wrong and came to the lonely teepee, to find all their scouts had been killed. they followed the path of marpeetopah and wadutah to the main village, and there a great battle was fought on the ice. many were killed on both sides. it was after this that the sioux moved to the mississippi river." i was sleepy by this time and i rolled myself up in my buffalo robe and fell asleep. part two stories of real indians i winona's childhood hush, hushaby, little woman! be brave and weep not! the spirits sleep not; 'tis they who ordain to woman, pain. hush, hushaby, little woman! now, all things bearing, a new gift sharing from those above-- to woman, love. _--sioux lullaby._ "chinto, wéyanna! yes, indeed; she is a real little woman," declares the old grandmother, as she receives and critically examines the tiny bit of humanity. there is no remark as to the color of its hair or eyes, both so black as almost to be blue, but the old woman scans sharply the delicate profile of the baby face. "ah, she has the nose of her ancestors! lips thin as a leaf, and eyes bright as stars in midwinter!" she exclaims, as she passes on the furry bundle to the other grandmother for her inspection. "tokee! she is pretty enough to win a twinkle from the evening star," remarks that smiling personage. "and what shall her name be? "winona, the first-born, of course. that is hers by right of birth." "still, it may not fit her. one must prove herself worthy in order to retain that honorable name." "ugh," retorts the first grandmother, "she can at least bear it on probation!" "tosh, tosh," the other assents. thus the unconscious little winona has passed the first stage of the indian's christening. presently she is folded into a soft white doeskin, well lined with the loose down of cattails, and snugly laced into an upright oaken cradle, the front of which is a richly embroidered buckskin bag, with porcupine quills and deer's hoofs suspended from its profuse fringes. this gay cradle is strapped upon the second grandmother's back, and that dignitary walks off with the newcomer. "you must come with me," she says. "we shall go among the father and mother trees, and hear them speak with their thousand tongues, that you may know their language forever. i will hang the cradle of the woman-child upon utuhu, the oak; and she shall hear the love-sighs of the pine maiden!" in this fashion winona is introduced to nature and becomes at once "nature-born," in accord with the beliefs and practices of the wild red man. the baby girl is called winona for some months, when the medicine-man is summoned and requested to name publicly the first-born daughter of chetonska, the white hawk; but not until he has received a present of a good pony with a finely painted buffalo-robe. it is usual to confer another name besides that of the "first-born," which may be resumed later if the maiden proves worthy. the name winona implies much of honor. it means charitable, kind, helpful; all that an eldest sister should be! the herald goes around the ring of lodges announcing in singsong fashion the christening, and inviting everybody to a feast in honor of the event. a real american christening is always a gala occasion, when much savage wealth is distributed among the poor and old people. winona has only just walked, and this fact is also announced with additional gifts. a well-born child is ever before the tribal eye and in the tribal ear, as every little step in its progress toward manhood or womanhood--the first time of walking or swimming, first shot with bow and arrow (if a boy), first pair of moccasins made (if a girl)--is announced publicly with feasting and the giving of presents. so winona receives her individual name of tatiyopa, or her door. it is symbolic, like most indian names, and implies that the door of the bearer is hospitable and her home attractive. the two grandmothers, who have carried the little maiden upon their backs, now tell and sing to her by turns all the legends of their most noted female ancestors, from the twin sisters of the old story, the maidens who married among the star people of the sky, down to their own mothers. all their lullabies are feminine, and designed to impress upon her tender mind the life and duties of her sex. as soon as she is old enough to play with dolls, she plays mother in all seriousness and gravity. she is dressed like a miniature woman (and her dolls are clad likewise), in garments of doeskin to her ankles, adorned with long fringes, embroidered with porcupine quills, and dyed with root dyes in various colors. her little blanket or robe, with which she shyly drapes or screens her head and shoulders, is the skin of a buffalo calf or a deer, soft, white, embroidered on the smooth side, and often with the head and hoofs left on. "you must never forget, my little daughter, that you are a woman like myself. do always those things that you see me do," her mother often admonishes her. even the language of the sioux has its feminine dialect, and the tiny girl would be greatly abashed were it ever needful to correct her for using a masculine termination. this mother makes for her little daughter a miniature copy of every rude tool that she uses in her daily tasks. there is a little scraper of elk-horn to scrape raw-hides preparatory to tanning them, another scraper of a different shape for tanning, bone knives, and stone mallets for pounding choke-cherries and jerked meat. while her mother is bending over a large buffalo-hide stretched and pinned upon the ground, standing upon it and scraping off the fleshy portion as nimbly as a carpenter shaves a board with his plane, winona, at five years of age, stands upon a corner of the great hide and industriously scrapes away with her tiny instrument. when the mother stops to sharpen her tool, the little woman always sharpens hers also. perhaps there is water to be fetched in bags made from the dried pericardium of an animal; the girl brings some in a smaller water-bag. when her mother goes for wood she carries one or two sticks on her back. she pitches her play teepee to form an exact copy of her mother's. her little belongings are nearly all practical, and her very play is real! ii winona's girlhood braver than the bravest, you sought honors at death's door; could you not remember one who weeps at home-- could you not remember me? braver than the bravest, you sought honors more than love; dear, i weep, yet i am not a coward; my heart weeps for thee-- my heart weeps when i remember thee! _--sioux love song._ the sky is blue overhead, peeping through window-like openings in a roof of green leaves. right between a great pine and a birch tree their soft doeskin shawls are spread, and there sit two sioux maidens amid their fineries--variously colored porcupine quills for embroidery laid upon sheets of thin birch-bark, and moccasin tops worked in colors like autumn leaves. it is winona and her friend miniyata. they have arrived at the period during which the young girl is carefully secluded from her brothers and cousins and future lovers, and retires, as it were, into the nunnery of the woods, behind a veil of thick foliage. thus she is expected to develop her womanly qualities. in meditation and solitude, entirely alone or with a chosen companion of her own sex and age, she gains a secret strength, as she studies the art of womanhood from nature herself. "come, let us practise our sacred dance," says one to the other. each crowns her glossy head with a wreath of wild flowers, and they dance with slow steps around the white birch, singing meanwhile the sacred songs. now upon the lake that stretches blue to the eastward there appears a distant canoe, a mere speck, no bigger than a bird far off against the shining sky. "see the lifting of the paddles!" exclaims winona. "like the leaping of a trout upon the water!" suggests miniyata. "i hope they will not discover us, yet i would like to know who they are," remarks the other, innocently. the birch canoe approaches swiftly, with two young men plying the light cedar paddles. the girls now settle down to their needle-work, quite as if they had never laughed or danced or woven garlands, bending over their embroidery in perfect silence. surely they would not wish to attract attention, for the two sturdy young warriors have already landed. they pick up the canoe and lay it well up on the bank, out of sight. then one procures a strong pole. they lift a buck deer from the canoe--not a mark upon it, save for the bullet wound; the deer looks as if it were sleeping! they tie the hind legs together and the fore legs also and carry it between them on the pole. quickly and cleverly they do all this; and now they start forward and come unexpectedly upon the maidens' retreat! they pause for an instant in mute apology, but the girls smile their forgiveness, and the youths hurry on toward the village. winona has now attended her first maidens' feast and is considered eligible to marriage. she may receive young men, but not in public or in a social way, for such is not the custom of the sioux. when he speaks, she need not answer him unless she chooses. it was no disgrace to the chief's daughter in the old days to work with her hands. indeed, their standard of worth was the willingness to work, but not for the sake of accumulation, only in order to give. winona has learned to prepare skins, to remove the hair and tan the skin of a deer so that it may be made into moccasins within three days. she has a bone tool for each stage of the conversion of the stiff rawhide into velvety leather. she has been taught the art of painting tents and rawhide cases, and the manufacture of garments of all kinds. generosity is a trait that is highly developed in the sioux woman. she makes many moccasins and other articles of clothing for her male relatives, or for any who are not well provided. she loves to see her brother the best dressed among the young men, and the moccasins especially of a young brave are the pride of his woman-kind. her own person is neatly attired, but ordinarily with great simplicity. her doeskin gown has wide, flowing sleeves; the neck is low, but not so low as is the evening dress of society. her moccasins are plain; her leggins close-fitting and not as high as her brother's. she parts her smooth, jet-black hair in the middle and plaits it in two. in the old days she used to do it in one plait wound around with wampum. her ornaments, sparingly worn, are beads, elks' teeth, and a touch of red paint. no feathers are worn by the woman, unless in a sacred dance. she is supposed to be always occupied with some feminine pursuit or engaged in some social affair, which also is strictly feminine as a rule. there is an etiquette of sitting and standing, which is strictly observed. the woman must never raise her knees or cross her feet when seated. she seats herself on the ground sidewise, with both feet under her. notwithstanding her modesty and undemonstrative ways, there is no lack of mirth and relaxation for winona among her girl companions. in summer, swimming and playing in the water is a favorite amusement. she even imitates with the soles of her feet the peculiar, resonant sound that the beaver makes with her large, flat tail upon the surface of the water. she is a graceful swimmer, keeping the feet together and waving them backward and forward like the tail of a fish. nearly all her games are different from those of the men. she has a sport of wand-throwing, which develops fine muscles of the shoulder and back. the wands are about eight feet long, and taper gradually from an inch and a half to half an inch in diameter. some of them are artistically made, with heads of bone and horn, so that it is remarkable to what a distance they may be made to slide over the ground. in the feminine game of ball, which is something like "shinny," the ball is driven with curved sticks between two goals. it is played with from two or three to a hundred on a side, and a game between two bands or villages is a picturesque event. a common indoor diversion is the "deer's foot" game, played with six deer hoofs on a string, ending in a bone or steel awl. the object is to throw it in such a way as to catch one or more hoofs on the point of the awl, a feat which requires no little dexterity. another is played with marked plum-stones in a bowl, which are thrown like dice and count according to the side that is turned uppermost. winona's wooing is a typical one. as with any other people, love-making is more or less in vogue at all times of the year, but more especially at midsummer, during the characteristic reunions and festivities of that season. the young men go about usually in pairs, and the maidens do likewise. they may meet by chance at any time of day, in the woods or at the spring, but oftenest seek to do so after dark, just outside the teepee. the girl has her companion, and he has his, for the sake of propriety or protection. the conversation is carried on in a whisper, so that even these chaperons do not hear. at the sound of the drum on summer evenings, dances are begun within the circular rows of teepees, but without the circle the young men promenade in pairs. each provides himself with the plaintive flute and plays the simple cadences of his people, while his person is completely covered with his fine robe, so that he cannot be recognized by the passer-by. at every pause in the melody he gives his yodel-like love-call, to which the girls respond with their musical, sing-song laughter. matosapa has improved every opportunity, until winona has at last shyly admitted her willingness to listen. for a whole year he has been compelled at intervals to repeat the story of his love. through the autumn hunting of the buffalo and the long, cold winter he often presents her kinsfolk with his game. at the next midsummer the parents on both sides are made acquainted with the betrothal, and they at once begin preparations for the coming wedding. provisions and delicacies of all kinds are laid aside for a feast. matosapa's sisters and his girl cousins are told of the approaching event, and they too prepare for it, since it is their duty to dress or adorn the bride with garments made by their own hands. the bride is ceremoniously delivered to her husband's people, together with presents of rich clothing, collected from all her clan, which she afterward distributes among her new relations. winona is carried in a travois handsomely decorated, and is received with equal ceremony. iii a midsummer feast the wahpetonwan village on the banks of the minnesota river was alive with the newly-arrived guests and the preparations for the coming event. meat of wild game had been put away with much care during the previous fall in anticipation of this feast. there was wild rice and the choicest of dried venison that had been kept all winter, as well as freshly dug turnips, ripe berries and an abundance of fresh meat. along the edge of the woods the teepees were pitched in groups or semi-circles, each band distinct from the others. the teepee of mankato or blue earth was pitched in a conspicuous spot. just over the entrance was painted in red and yellow a picture of a pipe, and directly opposite this the rising sun. the painting was symbolic of welcome and good will to men under the bright sun. a meeting was held to appoint some "medicine-man" to make the balls that were to be used in the lacrosse contest; and presently the herald announced that this honor had been conferred upon old chankpee-yuhah, or "keeps the club," while every other man of his profession was disappointed. towards evening he appeared in the circle, leading by the hand a boy about four years old. closely the little fellow observed every motion of the man; nothing escaped his vigilant black eyes, which seemed constantly to grow brighter and larger, while his glossy black hair was plaited and wound around his head like that of a celestial. he wore a bit of swan's down in each ear, which formed a striking contrast with the child's complexion. further than this, the boy was painted according to the fashion of the age. he held in his hands a miniature bow and arrows. the medicine-man drew himself up in an admirable attitude, and proceeded to make his short speech: "wahpetonwans, you boast that you run down the elk; you can outrun the ojibways. before you all, i dedicate to you this red ball. kaposias, you claim that no one has a lighter foot than you; you declare that you can endure running a whole day without water. to you i dedicate this black ball. either you or the leaf-dwellers will have to drop your eyes and bow your head when the game is over. i wish to announce that if the wahpetonwans should win, this little warrior shall bear the name ohiyesa (winner) through life; but if the light lodges should win, let the name be given to any child appointed by them." the ground selected for the great game was on a narrow strip of land between a lake and the river. it was about three quarters of a mile long and a quarter of a mile in width. the spectators had already ranged themselves all along the two sides, as well as at the two ends, which were somewhat higher than the middle. the soldiers appointed to keep order furnished much of the entertainment of the day. they painted artistically and tastefully, according to the indian fashion, not only their bodies but also their ponies and clubs. they were so strict in enforcing the laws that no one could venture with safety within a few feet of the limits of the field. now all of the minor events and feasts, occupying several days' time, had been observed. heralds on ponies' backs announced that all who intended to participate in the final game were requested to repair to the ground; also that if any one bore a grudge against another, he was implored to forget his ill-feeling until the contest should be over. the most powerful men were stationed at the half-way ground, while the fast runners were assigned to the back. it was an impressive spectacle a fine collection of agile forms, almost stripped of garments and painted in wild imitation of the rainbow and sunset sky on human canvas. some had undertaken to depict the milky way across their tawny bodies, and one or two made a bold attempt to reproduce the lightning. others contented themselves with painting the figure of some fleet animal or swift bird on their muscular chests. at the middle of the ground were stationed four immense men, magnificently formed. a fifth approached this group, paused a moment, and then threw his head back, gazed up into the sky in the manner of a cock and gave a smooth, clear operatic tone. instantly the little black ball went up between the two middle rushers, in the midst of yells, cheers and war-whoops. both men endeavored to catch it in the air; but alas! each interfered with the other; then the guards on each side rushed upon them. for a time, a hundred lacrosse sticks vied with each other, and the wriggling human flesh and paint were all one could see through the cloud of dust. suddenly there shot swiftly through the air toward the south, toward the kaposias' goal, the ball. there was a general cheer from their adherents, which echoed back from the white cliff on the opposite side of the minnesota. as the ball flew through the air, two adversaries were ready to receive it. the kaposia quickly met the ball, but failed to catch it in his netted bag, for the other had swung his up like a flash. thus it struck the ground, but had no opportunity to bound up when a wahpeton pounced upon it like a cat and slipped out of the grasp of his opponents. a mighty cheer thundered through the air. the warrior who had undertaken to pilot the little sphere was risking much, for he must dodge a host of kaposias before he could gain any ground. he was alert and agile; now springing like a panther, now leaping like a deer over a stooping opponent who tried to seize him around the waist. every opposing player was upon his heels, while those of his own side did all in their power to clear the way for him. but it was all in vain. he only gained fifty paces. thus the game went. first one side, then the other would gain an advantage, and then it was lost, until the herald proclaimed that it was time to change the ball. no victory was in sight for either side. after a few minutes' rest, the game was resumed. the red ball was now tossed in the air in the usual way. no sooner had it descended than one of the rushers caught it and away it went northward; again it was fortunate, for it was advanced by one of the same side. the scene was now one of the wildest excitement and confusion. at last, the northward flight of the ball was checked for a moment and a desperate struggle ensued. the ball had not been allowed to come to the surface since it reached this point, for there were more than a hundred men who scrambled for it. suddenly a warrior shot out of the throng like the ball itself! then some of the players shouted: "look out for antelope!" but it was too late. the little sphere had already nestled into antelope's palm and that fleetest of wahpetons had thrown down his lacrosse stick and set a determined eye upon the northern goal. such a speed! he had cleared almost all the opponents' guards--there were but two more. these were exceptional runners of the kaposias. as he approached them in his almost irresistible speed, every savage heart thumped louder in the indian's dusky bosom. in another moment there would be a defeat for the kaposias or a prolongation of the game. the two men, with a determined look approached their foe like two panthers prepared to spring; yet he neither slackened his speed nor deviated from his course. a crash--a mighty shout!--the two kaposias collided, and the swift antelope had won the laurels! the turmoil and commotion at the victors' camp were indescribable. a few beats of a drum were heard, after which the criers hurried along the lines, announcing the last act to be performed at the camp of the "leaf dwellers." the day had been a perfect one. every event had been a success; and, as a matter of course, the old people were happy, for they largely profited by these occasions. within the circle formed by the general assembly sat in a group the members of the common council. blue earth arose, and in a few appropriate and courteous remarks assured his guests that it was not selfishness that led his braves to carry off the honors of the last event, but that this was a friendly contest in which each band must assert its prowess. in memory of this victory, the boy would now receive his name. a loud "ho-o-o" of approbation reverberated from the edge of the forest upon the minnesota's bank. half frightened, the little fellow was now brought into the circle, looking very much as if he were about to be executed. cheer after cheer went up for the awe-stricken boy. chankpee-yuhah, the medicine-man, proceeded to confer the name. "ohiyesa (or winner) shall be thy name henceforth. be brave, be patient and thou shalt always win! thy name is ohiyesa." iv the faithfulness of long ears away beyond the thin hills, above the big lone tree upon the powder river, the uncpapa sioux had celebrated their sun dance, some forty years ago. it was midsummer and the red folk were happy. they lacked for nothing. the yellowish green flat on either side of the powder was studded with wild flowers, and the cottonwood trees were in full leaf. one large circle of buffalo-skin teepees formed the movable village. the tribal rites had all been observed, and the usual summer festivities enjoyed to the full. the camp as it broke up divided itself in three parts, each of which had determined to seek a favorite hunting-ground. one band journeyed west, toward the tongue river. one followed a tributary of the powder to the south. the third merely changed camp, on account of the grazing for ponies, and for four days remained near the old place. the party that went west did not fail to realize the perilous nature of their wanderings, for they were trespassing upon the country of the warlike crows. on the third day at sunrise, the sioux crier's voice resounded in the valley of the powder, announcing that the lodges must be razed and the villagers must take up their march. breakfast of jerked buffalo meat had been served and the women were adjusting their packs, not without much chatter and apparent confusion. weeko (beautiful woman), the young wife of the war-chief shunkaska, who had made many presents at the dances in honor of her twin boys, now gave one of her remaining ponies to a poor old woman whose only beast of burden, a large dog, had died during the night. this made it necessary to shift the packs of the others. nakpa, or long ears, her kitten-like gray mule, which had heretofore been honored with the precious burden of the twin babies, was to be given a heavier and more cumbersome load. weeko's two-year-old spotted pony was selected to carry the babies. accordingly, the two children, in their gorgeously beaded buckskin hoods, were suspended upon either side of the pony's saddle. as weeko's first-born, they were beautifully dressed; even the saddle and bridle were daintily worked by her own hands. the caravan was now in motion, and weeko started all her ponies after the leader, while she adjusted the mule's clumsy burden of kettles and other household gear. in a moment: "go on, let us see how you move with your new load! go on!" she exclaimed again, with a light blow of the horse-hair lariat, as the animal stood perfectly still. nakpa simply gave an angry side glance at her load and shifted her position once or twice. then she threw herself headlong into the air and landed stiff-legged, uttering at the same time her unearthly protest. first she dove straight through the crowd, then proceeded in a circle, her heels describing wonderful curves and sweeps in the air. her pack, too, began to come to pieces and to take forced flights from her undignified body and heels, in the midst of the screams of women and children, the barking of dogs, and the war-whoops of the amused young braves. the cowskin tent became detached from her saddle, and a moment later nakpa stood free. her sides worked like a bellows as she stood there, meekly indignant, apparently considering herself to be the victim of an uncalled-for misunderstanding. "i should put an arrow through her at once, only she is not worth a good arrow," said shunkaska, or white dog, the husband of weeko. at his wife's answer, he opened his eyes in surprised displeasure. "no, she shall have her own pack again. she wants her twins. i ought never to have taken them from her!" weeko approached nakpa as she stood alone and unfriended in the face of her little world, all of whom considered that she had committed the unpardonable sin. as for her, she evidently felt that her misfortunes had not been of her own making. she gave a hesitating, sidelong look at her mistress. "nakpa, you should not have acted so. i knew you were stronger than the others, therefore i gave you that load," said weeko in a conciliatory tone, and patted her on the nose. "come, now, you shall have your own pet pack," and she led her back to where the young pony stood silently with the babies. nakpa threw back her ears and cast savage looks at him, while shunkaska, with no small annoyance, gathered together as much as he could of their scattered household effects. the sleeping brown-skinned babies in their chrysalis-like hoods were gently lowered from the pony's back and attached securely to nakpa's padded wooden saddle. the family pots and kettles were divided among the pack-ponies. order was restored and the village once more in motion. "come now, nakpa; you have your wish. you must take good care of my babies. be good, because i have trusted you," murmured the young mother in her softest tones. "really, weeko, you have some common ground with nakpa, for you both always want to have your own way, and stick to it, too! i tell you, i fear this long ears. she is not to be trusted with babies," remarked shunkaska, with a good deal of severity. but his wife made no reply, for she well knew that though he might criticize, he would not actually interfere with her domestic arrangements. he now started ahead to join the men in advance of the slow-moving procession, thus leaving her in undivided charge of her household. one or two of the pack ponies were not well trained and required all her attention. nakpa had been a faithful servant until her escapade of the morning, and she was now obviously satisfied with her mistress' arrangements. she walked alongside with her lariat dragging, and perfectly free to do as she pleased. some hours later, the party ascended a slope from the river bottom to cross over the divide which lay between the powder river and a tributary stream. the ford was deep, with a swift current. here and there a bald butte stood out in full relief against the brilliant blue sky. "whoo! whoo!" came the blood-curdling signal of danger from the front. it was no unfamiliar sound--the rovers knew it only too well. it meant sudden death--or at best a cruel struggle and frantic flight. terrified, yet self-possessed, the women turned to fly while yet there was time. instantly the mother looked to nakpa, who carried on either side of the saddle her precious boys. she hurriedly examined the fastenings to see that all was secure, and then caught her swiftest pony, for, like all indian women, she knew just what was happening, and that while her husband was engaged in front with the enemy, she must seek safety with her babies. hardly was she in the saddle when a heartrending war-whoop sounded on their flank, and she knew that they were surrounded! instinctively she reached for her husband's second quiver of arrows, which was carried by one of the pack-ponies. alas! the crow warriors were already upon them! the ponies became unmanageable, and the wild screams of women and children pierced the awful confusion. quick as a flash, weeko turned again to her babies, but nakpa had already disappeared! when the crows made their flank charge, nakpa apparently appreciated the situation. to save herself and the babies, she took a desperate chance. she fled straight through the attacking force. when the warriors came howling upon her in great numbers, she at once started back the way she had come, to the camp left behind. they had travelled nearly three days. to be sure, they did not travel more than fifteen miles a day, but it was full forty miles to cover before dark. "look! look!" exclaimed a warrior, "two babies hung from the saddle of a mule!" no one heeded this man's call, and his arrow did not touch nakpa or either of the boys, but it struck the thick part of the saddle over the mule's back. "whoo! whoo!" yelled another crow to his comrades, "the sioux have dispatched a runner to get reinforcements! there he goes, down on the flat! now he has almost reached the river bottom!" it was only nakpa. she laid back her ears and stretched out more and more to gain the river, for she realized that when she had crossed the ford the crows would not pursue her farther. now she had reached the bank. with the intense heat from her exertions, she was extremely nervous, and she imagined a warrior behind every bush. yet she had enough sense left to realize that she must not satisfy her thirst. she tried the bottom with her forefoot, then waded carefully into the deep stream. she kept her big ears well to the front as she swam, to catch the slightest sound. as she stepped on the opposite shore, she shook herself and the boys vigorously, then pulled a few mouthfuls of grass and started on. soon one of the babies began to cry, and the other was not long in joining him. nakpa did not know what to do. she gave a gentle whinny and both babies apparently stopped to listen; then she took up an easy gait as if to put them to sleep. these tactics answered only for a time. as she fairly flew over the lowlands, the babies' hunger increased and they screamed so loud that a passing coyote had to sit upon his haunches and wonder what in the world the fleeing long-eared horse was carrying on his saddle. even magpies and crows flew near as if to ascertain the meaning of this curious sound. nakpa now came to the little trail creek, a tributary of the powder, not far from the old camp. there she swerved aside so suddenly as almost to jerk her babies out of their cradles. two gray wolves, one on each side, approached her, growling low--their white teeth showing. never in her humble life had nakpa been in more desperate straits. the larger of the wolves came fiercely forward to engage her attention, while his mate was to attack her behind and cut her hamstrings. but for once the pair had made a miscalculation. the mule used her front hoofs vigorously on the foremost wolf, while her hind ones were doing even more effective work. the larger wolf soon went limping away with a broken hip, and the one in the rear received a deep cut on the jaw which proved an effectual discouragement. a little further on, an indian hunter drew near on horseback, but nakpa did not pause or slacken her pace. on she fled through the long dry grass of the river bottoms, while her babies slept again from sheer exhaustion. toward sunset, she entered the sioux camp amid great excitement, for some one had spied her afar off, and the boys and the dogs announced her coming. "whoo, whoo! weeko's nakpa has come back with the twins! whoo, whoo!" exclaimed the men. "tokee! tokee!" cried the women. zeezeewin, a sister to weeko, who was in the village, came forward and released the children, as nakpa gave a low whinny and stopped. "sing a brave-heart song for the long-eared one! she has escaped alone with her charge. she is entitled to wear an eagle's feather! look at the arrow in her saddle! and more, she has a knife-wound in her jaw and an arrow-cut on her hind leg.--no, those are the marks of a wolf's teeth! she has passed through many dangers and saved two chief's sons, who will some day make the crows sorry for this day's work!" the speaker was an old man, who thus addressed the fast gathering throng. zeezeewin now came forward again with an eagle feather and some white paint in her hands. the young men rubbed nakpa down, and the feather, marked with red to indicate her wounds, was fastened to her mane. shoulders and hips were touched with red paint to show her endurance in running. then the crier, praising her brave deed in heroic verse, led her around the camp, inside of the circle of teepees. all the people stood outside their lodges and listened respectfully, for the dakota loves well to honor the faithful and the brave. during the next day, riders came in from the ill-fated party, bringing the sad news of the fight and heavy loss. late in the afternoon came weeko, her face swollen with crying, her beautiful hair cut short in mourning, her garments torn and covered with dust and blood. her husband had fallen in the fight, and her twin boys she supposed to have been taken captive by the crows. singing in a hoarse voice the praises of her departed warrior, she entered the camp. as she approached her sister's teepee, there stood nakpa, still wearing her honorable decorations. at the same moment, zeezeewin came out to meet her with both babies in her arms. "mechinkshee! mechinkshee! (my sons, my sons!)" was all that the poor mother could say, as she all but fell from the saddle to the ground. the despised long ears had not betrayed her trust. v snana's fawn the little missouri was in her spring fulness, and the hills among which she found her way to the great muddy were profusely adorned with colors, much like those worn by the wild red man upon a holiday! between the gorgeous buttes and rainbow-tinted ridges there were narrow plains, broken here and there by dry creeks or gulches, and these again were clothed scantily with poplars and sad-colored bull-berry bushes, while the bare spots were purple with the wild dakota crocuses. upon the lowest of a series of natural terraces there stood on this may morning a young sioux girl, whose graceful movements were not unlike those of a doe which chanced to be lurking in a neighboring gulch. on the upper plains, not far away, were her young companions, all busily employed with the wewoptay, as it is called--the sharp-pointed stick with which the sioux women dig wild turnips. they were gayly gossiping together, or each humming a love-song as she worked, only snana stood somewhat apart from the rest; in fact, concealed by the crest of the ridge. it was now full-born day. the sun shone hot upon the bare ground, and the drops stood upon snana's forehead as she plied her long pole. there was a cool spring in the dry creek bed near by, well hidden by a clump of choke-cherry bushes, and she turned thither to cool her thirsty throat. in the depths of the ravine her eye caught a familiar footprint--the track of a doe with the young fawn beside it. the hunting instinct arose within. "it will be a great feat if i can find and take from her the babe. the little tawny skin shall be beautifully dressed by my mother. the legs and the nose shall be embossed with porcupine quills. it will be my work-bag," she said to herself. as she stole forward on the fresh trail she scanned every nook, every clump of bushes. there was a sudden rustle from within a grove of wild plum trees, thickly festooned with grape and clematis, and the doe mother bounded away as carelessly as if she were never to return. ah, a mother's ruse! snana entered the thorny enclosure, which was almost a rude teepee, and, tucked away in the further-most corner, lay something with a trout-like, speckled, tawny coat. she bent over it. the fawn was apparently sleeping. presently its eyes moved a bit, and a shiver passed through its subtle body. "thou shalt not die; thy skin shall not become my work-bag!" unconsciously the maiden spoke. the mother sympathy had taken hold on her mind. she picked the fawn up tenderly, bound its legs, and put it on her back to carry like an indian babe in the folds of her robe. "i cannot leave you alone, tachinchala. your mother is not here. our hunters will soon return by this road, and your mother has left behind her two plain tracks leading to this thicket," she murmured. the wild creature struggled vigorously for a minute, and then became quiet. its graceful head protruded from the elk-skin robe just over snana's shoulder. she was slowly climbing the slope with her burden, when suddenly like an apparition the doe mother stood before her. the fawn called loudly when it was first seized, and the mother was not too far away to hear. now she called frantically for her child, at the same time stamping with her delicate forefeet. "yes, sister, you are right; she is yours; but you cannot save her to-day! the hunters will soon be here. let me keep her for you; i will return her to you safely. and hear me, o sister of the woods, that some day i may become the mother of a noble race of warriors and of fine women, as handsome as you are!" at this moment the quick eyes of the indian girl detected something strange in the doe's actions. she glanced in every direction and behold! a grizzly bear was cautiously approaching the group from a considerable distance. "run, run, sister! i shall save your child if i can," she cried, and flew for the nearest scrub oak on the edge of the bank. up the tree she scrambled, with the fawn still securely bound to her back. the grizzly came on with teeth exposed, and the doe-mother in her flight came between him and the tree, giving a series of indignant snorts as she ran, and so distracted mato from his object of attack; but only for a few seconds--then on he came! "desist, o brave mato! it does not become a great medicine-man to attack a helpless woman with a burden upon her back!" snana spoke as if the huge brute could understand her, and, indeed, the indians hold that wild animals understand intuitively when appealed to by human beings in distress. yet he replied only with a hoarse growl, as rising upon his hind legs he shook the little tree vigorously. "ye, ye, heyupi ye!" snana called loudly to her companion turnip-diggers. her cry soon brought all the women into sight upon a near-by ridge, and they immediately gave a general alarm. mato saw them, but appeared not at all concerned and was still intent upon dislodging the girl, who clung frantically to her perch. presently there appeared upon the little knoll several warriors, mounted and uttering the usual war-whoop, as if they were about to swoop down upon a human enemy. this touched the dignity of mato, and he immediately prepared to accept the challenge. every indian was alive to the possibilities of the occasion, for it is well known that mato, or grizzly bear, alone among animals is given the rank of a warrior, so that whoever conquers him may wear an eagle feather. "woo! woo!" the warriors shouted, as they maneuvered to draw him into the open plain. he answered with hoarse growls, threatening a rider who had ventured too near. but arrows were many and well-aimed, and in a few minutes the great and warlike mato lay dead at the foot of the tree. the men ran forward and counted their _coups_ on him, just as when an enemy is fallen. then they looked at one another and placed their hands over their mouths as the young girl descended the-tree with a fawn bound upon her back. "so that was the bait!" they cried. "and will you not make a feast with that fawn for us who came to your rescue?" "the fawn is young and tender, and we have not eaten meat for two days. it will be a generous thing to do," added her father, who was among them. "ye-e-e!" she cried out in distress. "do not ask it! i have seen this fawn's mother. i have promised to keep her child safe. see! i have saved its life, even when my own was in danger." "ho, ho, wakan ye lo! (yes, yes, 'tis holy or mysterious)," they exclaimed approvingly. it was no small trouble for snana to keep her trust. as may well be supposed, all the dogs of the teepee village must be watched and kept at a distance. neither was it easy to feed the little captive; but in gaining its confidence the girl was an adept. the fawn soon followed her everywhere, and called to her when hungry exactly as she had called to her own mother. after several days, when her fright at the encounter with the bear had somewhat worn off, snana took her pet into the woods and back to the very spot in which she had found it. in the furthest corner of the wild plum grove she laid it down, gently stroked its soft forehead, and smoothed the leaf-like ears. the little thing closed its eyes. once more the sioux girl bent over and laid her cheek against the fawn's head; then reluctantly she moved away, hoping and yet dreading that the mother would return. she crouched under a clump of bushes near by, and gave the doe call. it was a reckless thing for her to do, for such a call might bring upon her a mountain lion or ever-watchful silver-tip; but snana did not think of that. in a few minutes she heard the light patter of hoofs, and caught a glimpse of a doe running straight toward the fawn's hiding-place. when she stole near enough to see, the doe and the fawn were examining one another carefully, as if fearing some treachery. at last both were apparently satisfied. the doe caressed her natural child, and the little one accepted the milk she offered. in the sioux maiden's mind there was turmoil. a close attachment to the little wild creature had already taken root there, contending with the sense of justice that was strong within her. now womanly sympathy for the mother was in control, and now a desire to possess and protect her helpless pet. "i can take care of her against all hunters, both animal and human. they are ever ready to seize the helpless fawn for food. her life will be often exposed. you cannot save her from disaster. o, takcha, my sister, let me still keep her for you!" she finally appealed to the poor doe, who was nervously watching the intruder, and apparently thinking how she might best escape with the fawn. just at this moment there came a low call from the wood. it was a doe call; but the wild mother and her new friend both knew that it was not the call of a real doe. "it is a sioux hunter!" whispered the girl. "you must go, my sister! be off; i will take your child to safety!" while she was yet speaking, the doe seemed to realize the danger. she stopped only an instant to lick fondly the tawny coat of the little one, then she bounded away. as snana emerged from the bushes with her charge, a young hunter met her face to face, and stared at her curiously. he was not of her father's camp, but a stranger. "ugh, you have my game." "tosh!" she replied coquettishly. it was so often said among the indians that the doe was wont to put on human form to mislead the hunter, that it looked strange to see a woman with a fawn, and the young man could not forbear to gaze upon snana. "you are not the real mother in maiden's guise? tell me truly if you are of human blood," he demanded rudely. "i am a sioux maiden! do you not know my father?" she replied. "ah, but who is your father? what is his name?" he insisted, nervously fingering his arrows. "do not be a coward! surely you should know a maid of your own race," she replied reproachfully. "ah, you know the tricks of the doe! what is thy name?" "hast thou forgotten the etiquette of thy people, and wouldst compel me to pronounce my own name? i refuse; thou art jesting!" she retorted with a smile. "thou dost give the tricky answers of a doe. i cannot wait; i must act before i lose my natural mind. but already i am yours. whatever purpose you may have in thus charming a poor hunter, be merciful," and, throwing aside his quiver, he sat down. the maiden stole a glance at his face and then another. he was handsome. softly she reëntered the thicket and laid down the little fawn. "promise me never to hunt here again!" she said earnestly, as she came forth without her pretty burden, and he exacted another promise in return. thus snana lost her fawn, and found a lover. vi hakadah's first offering "hakadah, coowah!" was the sonorous call that came from a large teepee in the midst of the indian encampment. in answer to the summons there emerged from the woods, which were only a few steps away, a boy, accompanied by a splendid black dog. there was little in the appearance of the little fellow to distinguish him from the other sioux boys. he hastened to the tent from which he had been summoned, carrying in his hands a bow and arrows gorgeously painted, while the small birds and squirrels that he had killed with these weapons dangled from his belt. within the tent sat two old women, one on each side of the fire. uncheedah was the boy's grandmother, who had brought up the motherless child. wahchewin was only a caller, but she had been invited to remain and assist in the first personal offering of hakadah to the "great mystery." it had been whispered through the teepee village that uncheedah intended to give a feast in honor of her grandchild's first sacrificial offering. this was mere speculation, however, for the clear-sighted old woman had determined to keep this part of the matter secret until the offering should be completed, believing that the "great mystery" should be met in silence and dignity. the boy came rushing into the lodge, followed by his dog ohitika, who was wagging his tail promiscuously, as if to say: "master and i are really hunters!" hakadah breathlessly gave a descriptive narrative of the killing of each bird and squirrel as he pulled them off his belt and threw them before his grandmother. "this blunt-headed arrow," said he, "actually had eyes this morning. before the squirrel can dodge around the tree it strikes him in the head, and, as he falls to the ground, my ohitika is upon him." he knelt upon one knee as he talked, his black eyes shining like evening stars. "sit down here," said uncheedah to the boy; "i have something to say to you. you see that you are now almost a man. observe the game you have brought me! it will not be long before you will leave me, for a warrior must seek opportunities to make him great among his people. "you must endeavor to equal your father and grandfather," she went on. "they were warriors and feast-makers. but it is not the poor hunter who makes many feasts. do you not remember the 'legend of the feast-maker,' who gave forty feasts in twelve moons? and have you forgotten the story of the warrior who sought the will of the great mystery? to-day you will make your first offering to him." the concluding sentence fairly dilated the eyes of the young hunter, for he felt that a great event was about to occur, in which he would be the principal actor. but uncheedah resumed her speech. "you must give up one of your belongings--whichever is dearest to you--for this is to be a sacrificial offering." this somewhat confused the boy; not that he was selfish, but rather uncertain as to what would be the most appropriate thing to give. then, too, he supposed that his grandmother referred to his ornaments and playthings only. so he volunteered: "i can give up my best bow and arrows, and all the paints i have, and--and my bear's claws necklace, grandmother!" "are these the things dearest to you?" she demanded. "not the bow and arrows, but the paints will be very hard to get, for there are no white people near; and the necklace--it is not easy to get one like it again. i will also give up my otter-skin head-dress, if you think that it not enough." "but think, my boy, you have not yet mentioned the thing that will be a pleasant offering to the great mystery." the boy looked into the woman's face with a puzzled expression. "i have nothing else as good as those things i have named, grandmother, unless it is my spotted pony; and i am sure that the great mystery will not require a little boy to make him so large a gift. besides, my uncle gave three otter-skins and five eagle-feathers for him and i promised to keep him a long while, if the blackfeet or the crows do not steal him." uncheedah was not fully satisfied with the boy's free offerings. perhaps it had not occurred to him what she really wanted. but uncheedah knew where his affection was vested. his faithful dog, his pet and companion--hakadah was almost inseparable from the loving beast. she was sure that it would be difficult to obtain his consent to sacrifice the animal, but she ventured upon a final appeal. "you must remember," she said, "that in this offering you will call upon him who looks at you from every creation. in the wind you hear him whisper to you. he gives his war-whoop in the thunder. he watches you by day with his eye, the sun; at night, he gazes upon your sleeping countenance through the moon. in short, it is the mystery of mysteries, who controls all things, to whom you will make your first offering. by this act, you will ask him to grant to you what he has granted to few men. i know you wish to be a great warrior and hunter. i am not prepared to see my hakadah show any cowardice, for the love of possessions is a woman's trait and not a brave's." during this speech, the boy had been completely aroused to the spirit of manliness, and in his excitement was willing to give up anything he had--even his pony! but he was unmindful of his friend and companion, ohitika, the dog! so, scarcely had uncheedah finished speaking, when he almost shouted: "grandmother, i will give up any of my possessions for the offering to the great mystery! you may select what you think will be most pleasing to him." there were two silent spectators of this little dialogue. one was wahchewin, the other was ohitika. the woman had been invited to stay, although only a neighbor. the dog, by force of habit, had taken up his usual position by the side of his master when they entered the teepee. without moving a muscle, save those of his eyes, he had been a very close observer of what passed. had the dog but moved once to attract the attention of his little friend, he might have been dissuaded from that impetuous exclamation: "grandmother, i will give up any of my possessions!" it was hard for uncheedah to tell the boy that he must part with his dog, but she was equal to the situation. "hakadah," she proceeded cautiously, "you are a young brave. i know, though young, your heart is strong and your courage is great. you will be pleased to give up the dearest thing you have for your first offering. you must give up ohitika. he is brave; and you, too, are brave. he will not fear death; you will bear his loss bravely. come,--here are four bundles of paints and a filled pipe,--let us go to the place!" when the last words were uttered, hakadah did not seem to hear them. he was simply unable to speak. to a civilized eye, he would have appeared at that moment like a little copper statue. his bright black eyes were fast melting in floods of tears, when he caught his grandmother's eye and recollected her oft-repeated adage: "tears for woman and the war-whoop for man to drown sorrow!" he swallowed two or three big mouthfuls of heartache and the little warrior was master of the situation. "grandmother, my brave will have to die! let me tie together two of the prettiest tails of the squirrels that he and i killed this morning, to show to the great mystery what a hunter he has been. let me paint him myself." this request uncheedah could not refuse, and she left the pair alone for a few minutes, while she went to ask wacoota to execute ohitika. every indian boy knows that, when a warrior is about to meet death, he must sing a death dirge. hakadah thought of his ohitika as a person who would meet his death without a struggle, so he began to sing a dirge for him, at the same time hugging him tight to himself. as if he were a human being, he whispered in his ear: [illustration: he began to sing a dirge for him. _page ._] "be brave, my ohitika! i shall remember you the first time i am upon the war-path in the ojibway country." at last he heard uncheedah talking with a man outside the teepee, so he quickly took up his paints. ohitika was a jet-black dog, with a silver tip on the end of his tail and on his nose, beside one white paw and a white star upon a protuberance between his ears. hakadah knew that a man who prepares for death usually paints with red and black. nature had partially provided ohitika in this respect, so that only red was required and this hakadah supplied generously. then he took off a piece of red cloth and tied it around the dog's neck; to this he fastened two of the squirrels' tails and a wing from the oriole they had killed that morning. just then it occurred to him that good warriors always mourn for their departed friends, and the usual mourning was black paint. he loosened his black braided locks, ground a dead coal, mixed it with bear's oil and rubbed it on his entire face. during this time every hole in the tent was occupied with an eye. among the lookers-on was his grandmother. she was very near relenting. had she not feared the wrath of the great mystery, she would have been happy to call out to the boy: "keep your dear dog, my child!" as it was, hakadah came out of the teepee with his face looking like an eclipsed moon, leading his beautiful dog, who was even handsomer than ever with the red touches on his specks of white. it was now uncheedah's turn to struggle with the storm and burden in her soul. but the boy was emboldened by the people's admiration of his bravery, and did not shed a tear. as soon as she was able to speak, the loving grandmother said: "no, my young brave, not so! you must not mourn for your first offering. wash your face and then we will go." the boy obeyed, submitted ohitika to wacoota with a smile, and walked off with his grandmother and wahchewin. the boy and his grandmother descended the bank, following a tortuous foot-path until they reached the water's edge. then they proceeded to the mouth of an immense cave, some fifty feet above the river, under the cliff. a little stream of limpid water trickled down from a spring within the cave. the little watercourse served as a sort of natural staircase for the visitors. a cool, pleasant atmosphere exhaled from the mouth of the cavern. really it was a shrine of nature, and it is not strange that it was so regarded by the tribe. a feeling of awe and reverence came to the boy. "it is the home of the great mystery," he thought to himself; and the impressiveness of his surroundings made him forget his sorrow. very soon wahchewin came with some difficulty to the steps. she placed the body of ohitika upon the ground in a life-like position and again left the two alone. as soon as she disappeared from view, uncheedah, with all solemnity and reverence, unfastened the leather strings that held the four small bundles of paints and one of tobacco, while the filled pipe was laid beside the dead ohitika. she scattered paints and tobacco all about. again they stood a few moments silently; then she drew a deep breath and began her prayer to the great mystery: "o, great mystery, we hear thy voice in the rushing waters below us! we hear thy whisper in the great oaks above! our spirits are refreshed with thy breath from within this cave. o, hear our prayer! behold this little boy and bless him! make him a warrior and a hunter as great as thou didst make his father and grandfather." and with this prayer the little warrior had completed his first offering. vii the grave of the dog the full moon was just clear of the high mountain ranges when the game scout moved slowly homeward, well wrapped in his long buffalo robe, which was securely belted to his strong loins; his quiver tightly tied to his shoulders so as not to impede his progress. as he emerged from the lowlands into the upper regions, he loomed up a gigantic figure against the clear, moonlit horizon. his picturesque foxskin cap with all its trimmings was incrusted with frost from the breath of his nostrils, and his lagging footfall sounded crisply. the distance he had that day covered was enough for any human endurance; yet he was neither faint nor hungry; but his feet were frozen into the psay, the snow-shoes, so that he could not run faster than an easy slip and slide. at last he reached the much-coveted point--the crown of the last ascent; and when he smelled fire and the savory odor of the jerked buffalo meat, it well-nigh caused him to waver! but he must not fail to follow the custom of untold ages, and give the game scout's wolf call before entering camp. accordingly he paused upon the highest point of the ridge and uttered a cry to which the hungry cry of a real wolf would have seemed but a coyote's yelp in comparison! then it was that the rest of the buffalo hunters knew that their game scout was returning with welcome news; for the unsuccessful scout enters the camp silently. in the meantime, the hunters at the temporary camp were aroused to a high pitch of excitement. some turned their buffalo robes and put them on in such a way as to convert themselves into make-believe bison, and began to tread the snow, while others were singing the buffalo song, that their spirits might be charmed and allured within the circle of the camp-fires. the scout, too, was singing his buffalo bull song in a guttural, lowing chant as he neared the hunting camp. within arrow-shot he paused again, while the usual ceremonies were enacted for his reception. this done, he was seated with the leaders in a chosen place. "it was a long run," he said, "but there were no difficulties. i found the first herd directly north of here. the second herd, a great one, is northeast, near shell lake. the snow is deep. the buffalo can only follow their leader in their retreat." "hi, hi, hi!" the hunters exclaimed solemnly in token of gratitude, raising their hands heavenward and then pointing them toward the ground. "ho, kola! one more round of the buffalo-pipe, then we shall retire, to rise before daybreak for the hunt," advised one of the leaders. silently they partook in turn of the long-stemmed pipe, and one by one, with a dignified "ho!" departed to their teepees. the scout betook himself to his little old buffalo teepee, which he used for winter hunting expeditions. his faithful shunka, who had been all this time its only occupant, met him at the entrance as dogs alone know how to welcome a lifelong friend. as his master entered he stretched himself in his old-time way, from the tip of his tail to that of his tongue, and finished by curling both ends upward. "ho, mita shunka, eat this; for you must be hungry!" so saying, the scout laid before his canine friend the last piece of his dried buffalo meat. it was the sweetest meal ever eaten by a dog, judging by his long smacking of his lips after he had swallowed it! the hunting party was soon lost in heavy slumber. not a sound could be heard save the gnawing of the ponies upon the cottonwood bark, which was provided for them instead of hay in the winter time. when wapashaw, the game scout, had rolled himself in his warm buffalo robe and was sound asleep, his faithful companion hunter, the great esquimaux wolf dog, silently rose and again stretched himself, then stood quiet for a moment as if meditating. it was clear that he knew well what he had planned to do, but was considering how he should do it without arousing any suspicion of his movements. this is a dog's art, and the night tricks and marauding must always be the joy and secret of his life! softly he emerged from the lodge and gave a sweeping glance around to assure him that there were none to spy upon him. suspiciously he sniffed the air, as if to ascertain whether there could be any danger to his sleeping master while he should be away. up the long ascent he trotted in a northerly direction, yet not following his master's trail. he was large and formidable in strength, combining the features of his wild brothers of the plains with those of the dogs who keep company with the red men. his jet-black hair and sharp ears and nose appeared to immense advantage against the spotless and jewelled snow, until presently his own warm breath had coated him with heavy frost. after a time shunka struck into his master's trail and followed it all the way, only taking a short cut here and there when, by dog instinct, he knew that a man must go around such a point to get to his destination. he met many travellers during the night, but none had dared to approach him, though some few followed at a distance, as if to discover his purpose. at last he reached shell lake, and there beheld a great gathering of the herds! they stood in groups, like enormous rocks, no longer black, but white with frost. every one of them emitted a white steam, quickly frozen into a fine snow in the air. shunka sat upon his haunches and gazed. "wough, this is it!" he said to himself. he had kept still when the game scout gave the wolf call, though the camp was in an uproar, and from the adjacent hills the wild hunters were equally joyous, because they understood the meaning of the unwonted noise. yet his curiosity was not fully satisfied, and he had set out to discover the truth, and it may be to protect or serve his master in case of danger. at daybreak the great dog meekly entered his master's rude teepee, and found him already preparing for the prospective hunt. he was filling his inside moccasins full of buffalo hair to serve as stockings, over which he put on his large buffalo moccasins with the hair inside, and adjusted his warm leggins. he then adjusted his snow-shoes and filled his quiver full of good arrows. the dog quietly lay down in a warm place, making himself as small as possible, as if to escape observation, and calmly watched his master. soon all the hunters were running in single file upon the trail of the scout, each indian closely followed by his trusty hunting dog. in less than two hours they stood just back of the low ridge which rounded the south side of shell lake. the narrow strip of land between its twin divisions was literally filled with the bison. in the gulches beyond, between the dark lines of timber, there were also scattered groups; but the hunters at once saw their advantage over the herd upon the peninsula. "hechetu, kola! this is well, friends!" exclaimed the first to speak. "these can be forced to cross the slippery ice and the mire around the springs. this will help us to get more meat. our people are hungry, and we must kill many in order to feed them!" "ugh, he is always right! our dogs must help us here. the meat will be theirs as well as ours," another added. "tosh, kola! the game scout's dog is the greatest shunka of them all! he has a mind near like that of a man. let him lead the attack of his fellows, while we crawl up on the opposite side and surround the buffalo upon the slippery ice and in the deceitful mire," spoke up a third. so it was agreed that the game scout and his shunka should lead the attack. "woo, woo, woo!" was the hoarse signal from the throat of the game scout; but his voice was drowned by the howling and barking of the savage dogs as they made their charge. in a moment all was confusion among the buffalo. some started this way, others that, and the great mass swayed to and fro uncertainly. a few were ready to fight, but the snow was too deep for a countercharge upon the dogs, save on the ice just in front of them, where the wind had always full sweep. there all was slippery and shining! in their excitement and confusion the bison rushed upon this uncertain plain. their weight and the momentum of their rush carried them hopelessly far out, where they were again confused as to which way to go, and many were stuck in the mire which was concealed by the snow, except here and there an opening above a spring from which there issued a steaming vapor. the game scout and his valiant dog led on the force of canines with deafening war-cries, and one could see black heads here and there popping from behind the embankments. as the herd finally swept toward the opposite shore, many dead were left behind. pierced by the arrows of the hunters, they lay like black mounds upon the glassy plain. it was a great hunt! "once more the camp will be fed," they thought, "and this good fortune will help us to reach the spring alive!" a chant of rejoicing rang out from the opposite shore, while the game scout unsheathed his big knife and began the work which is ever the sequel of the hunt--to dress the game; although the survivors of the slaughter had scarcely disappeared behind the hills. all were busily skinning and cutting up the meat into pieces convenient for carrying, when suddenly a hunter called the attention of those near him to an ominous change in the atmosphere. "there are signs of a blizzard! we must hurry into the near woods before it reaches us!" he shouted. some heard him; others did not. those who saw or heard passed on the signal and hurried toward the wood, where others had already arranged rude shelters and gathered piles of dry wood for fuel. around the several camp-fires the hunters sat or stood, while slices of savory meat were broiled and eaten with a relish by the half-starved men. but the storm had now fairly enveloped them in whirling whiteness. "woo, woo!" they called to those who had not yet reached camp. one after another answered and emerged from the blinding pall of snow. at last none were missing save the game scout and his shunka! the hunters passed the time in eating and telling stories until a late hour, occasionally giving a united shout to guide the lost one should he chance to pass near their camp. "fear not for our scout, friends!" finally exclaimed a leader among them. "he is a brave and experienced man. he will find a safe resting-place, and join us when the wind ceases to rage." so they all wrapped themselves in their robes and lay down to sleep. all that night and the following day it was impossible to give succor, and the hunters felt much concern for the absent. late in the second night the great storm subsided. "ho, ho! iyotanka! rise up!" so the first hunter to awaken aroused all the others. as after every other storm, it was wonderfully still; so still that one could hear distinctly the pounding feet of the jack-rabbits coming down over the slopes to the willows for food. all dry vegetation was buried beneath the deep snow, and everywhere they saw this white-robed creature of the prairie coming down to the woods. now the air was full of the wolf and coyote game call, and they were seen in great numbers upon the ice. "see, see! the hungry wolves are dragging the carcasses away! harken to the war-cries of the scout's shunka! hurry, hurry!" they urged one another in chorus. away they ran and out upon the lake; now upon the wind-swept ice, now upon the crusted snow; running when they could, sliding when they must. there was certainly a great concourse of the wolves, whirling in frantic circles, but continually moving toward the farther end of the lake. they could hear distinctly the hoarse bark of the scout's shunka, and occasionally the muffled war-whoop of a man, as if it came from under the ice. as they approached nearer the scene they could hear more distinctly the voice of their friend, but still as it were from underground. when they reached the spot to which the wolves had dragged two of the carcasses of the buffalo, shunka was seen to stand by one of them, but at that moment he staggered and fell. the hunters took out their knives and ripped up the frozen hide covering the abdominal cavity. it revealed a warm nest of hay and buffalo hair in which the scout lay, wrapped in his own robe! he had placed his dog in one of the carcasses and himself in another for protection from the storm; but the dog was wiser than the man, for he kept his entrance open. the man lapped the hide over and it froze solidly, shutting him securely in. when the hungry wolves came shunka promptly extricated himself and held them off as long as he could; meanwhile, sliding and pulling, the wolves continued to drag over the slippery ice the body of the buffalo in which his master had taken refuge. the poor, faithful dog, with no care for his own safety, stood by his imprisoned master until the hunters came up. but it was too late, for he had received more than one mortal wound. as soon as the scout got out, with a face more anxious for another than for himself, he exclaimed: "where is shunka, the bravest of his tribe?" "ho, kola, it is so, indeed; and here he lies," replied one sadly. his master knelt by his side, gently stroking the face of the dog. "ah, my friend; you go where all spirits live! the great mystery has a home for every living creature. may he permit our meeting there!" at daybreak the scout carried him up to one of the pretty round hills overlooking the lake, and built up around him walls of loose stone. red paints were scattered over the snow, in accordance with indian custom, and the farewell song was sung. since that day the place has been known to the sioux as shunkahanakapi--the grave of the dog. the end glossary of indian words be-day-wah´-kan-ton, lake-dwellers. cha-tan´-na, fourth son. chin´-to, certainly. che-ton´-skah, white hawk. chank-pay´-yu-hah, carries the club. coo´-wah, come here! ha-nah´-kah-pee, grave. he-yu´-pee-yay, come all of you! hay´-chay-tu, it is well. hah-kay´-dah, the last-born. he-nah´-kah-gah, the owl. kah-po´-se-yah, light lodges (a band of sioux). ko´-lah, friend. man-kah´-to, blue earth. mah-to´, bear. mah-to´-sap-ah, black bear. mah-pee´-to-pah, four heavens. me-ne-yah´-tah, beside the water. me-chink´-shee, my son. nak-pah´, ears (of an animal). o-o´-pay-han´-skah, bluebird. o-hit´-e-kah, brave. shun´kah, dog. sna´-na, rattle. shunk-to´-kay-chah, wolf. she-cho´-kah, robin. shun´-kah-skah, white dog. tee´-pee, tent. tak-chah´, deer. to-kee´, well, well! ta-tee´-yo-pah, her door. un-chee´-dah, grand-mother. u-tu´-hu, oak. wa-kan´, holy, wonderful. wah-coo´-tay, shooter. wah-pay´-ton, dweller among the leaves. wah-chee´-win, dancing woman. wee-ko´, beautiful woman. wa-doo´-tah, scarlet. we´-yan-nah, little woman. we-no´-nah, first-born girl. wah-be-day´, orphan. zee-zee´-wee, yellow woman. proofreading team from images generously made available by the canadian institute for historical microreproductions. dahcotah; or, life and legends of the sioux around fort snelling. by mrs. mary eastman, with preface by mrs. c. m. kirkland. illustrated from drawings by captain eastman. to henry sibley, esq., house of representatives. it was my purpose to dedicate, exclusively, these pages to my beloved parents. what correctness of sentiment appears in this book is mainly ascribable to a principle they endeavored to instil into the minds of their children, that purity of heart and intellectual attainment are never more appropriately exercised than in promoting the good of our fellow-creatures. yet the sincere sentiments of respect and regard that i entertain for you, the remembrance of the many acts of friendship received from you during my residence at fort snelling, and the assurance that you are ever prompt to assist and protect the indian, induce me to unite your name with those most dear to me in this dedication. an additional inducement is, that no one knows better than yourself the opportunities that presented themselves to collect materials for these legends, and with what interest these occasions were improved. with whatever favor this little work may be received it is a most pleasing reflection to me, that the object in publishing it being to excite attention to the moral wants of the dahcotahs, will be kindly appreciated by the friends of humanity, and by none more readily than yourself. very truly yours, mary h. eastman. new london, march lst, . preface. my only title to the office of editor in the present case is some practice in such matters, with a very warm interest in all, whether relating to past or present, that concerns our western country. mrs. eastman,--wife of captain eastman, and daughter of dr. henderson, both of the u. s. army,--is thoroughly acquainted with the customs, superstitions, and leading ideas of the dahcotahs, whose vicinity to fort snelling, and frequent intercourse with its inmates, have brought them much under the notice of the officers and ladies of the garrison. she has no occasion to present the indian in a theatrical garb--a mere thing of paint and feathers, less like the original than his own rude delineation on birch-bark or deer-skin. the reader will find in the following pages living men and women, whose feelings are in many respects like his own, and whose motives of action are very similar to those of the rest of the world, though far less artfully covered up and disguised under pleasant names. "envy, hatred and malice, and all uncharitableness," stand out, unblushing, in indian life. the first is not called emulation, nor the second just indignation or merited contempt, nor the third zeal for truth, nor the fourth keen discernment of character. anger and revenge are carried out honestly to their natural fruit--injury to others. among the indians this takes the form of murder, while with us it is obliged to content itself with slander, or cunning depreciation. in short, the study of indian character is the study of the unregenerate human heart; and the writer of these sketches of the dahcotahs presents it as such, with express and solemn reference to the duty of those who have "the words of eternal life" to apply them to the wretched condition of the red man, who is, perhaps, with all his ignorance, quite as well prepared to receive them as many of those who are already wise in their own eyes. the very degradation and misery in which he lives, and of which he is not unable to perceive some of the causes, prepare him to welcome the instruction which promises better things. evils which are covered up under the smoothness of civilization, stand out in all their horrible deformity in the _abandon_ of savage life; the indian cannot get even one gleam of light, without instantly perceiving the darkness around him. here, then, is encouragement to paint him as he is, that the hearts of the good may be moved at his destitute and unhappy state; to set forth his wants and his claims, that ignorance may no longer be pleaded as an excuse for withholding, from the original proprietor of the soil, the compensation or atonement which is demanded at once by justice, honor, and humanity. authentic pictures of indian life have another and a different value, in a literary point of view. in the history and character of the aborigines is enveloped all the distinct and characteristic poetic material to which we, as americans, have an unquestioned right. here is a peculiar race, of most unfathomable origin, possessed of the qualities which have always prompted poetry, and living lives which are to us as shadowy as those of the ossianic heroes; our own, and passing away--while we take no pains to arrest their fleeting traits or to record their picturesque traditions. yet we love poetry; are ambitious of a literature of our own, and sink back dejected when we are convicted of imitation. why is it that we lack interest in things at home? sismondi has a passage to this effect:-- "the literature of other countries has been frequently adopted by a young nation with a sort of fanatical admiration. the genius of those countries having been so often placed before it as the perfect model of all greatness and all beauty, every spontaneous movement has been repressed, in order to make room for the most servile imitation; and every national attempt to develop an original character has been sacrificed to the reproduction of something conformable to the model which has been always before its eyes." this is certainly true of us, since we not only adopt the english view of everything, but confine ourselves to the very subjects and imagery which have become consecrated to us by love and habit. not to enter into the general subject of our disposition to parrotism, our neglect of indian material in particular may be in part accounted for, by our having become acquainted with the aborigines after the most unpoetical fashion, in trying to cheat them out of their lands, or shooting them when they declined being cheated; they, in their turn, driven to the resource of the weak and the ignorant, counterplotting us, and taking, by means of blood and fire, what we would not give them in fair compensation. this has made our business relations very unpleasant; and everybody knows that when this becomes the case, it is hard for parties to do justice to each other's good or available qualities. if we had only read about the indians, as a people living in the mountain-fastnesses of greece, or the, broad plains of transylvania, we should without difficulty have discovered the romantic elements of their character. but as the effect of remoteness is produced by time as well as distance, it is surely worth while to treasure up their legends for our posterity, who will justly consider us very selfish, if we throw away what will be a treasure to them, merely because we cannot or will not use it ourselves. a prominent ground of the slight regard in which the english hold american literature, or at least one of the most plausible reasons given for it, is our want of originality, particularly in point of subject matter. it is said that our imitativeness is so servile, that for the sake of following english models, at an immeasurable distance, we neglect the new and grand material which lies all around us, in the sublime features of our country, in our new and striking circumstances, in our peculiar history and splendid prospects, and, above all, in the character, superstitions, and legends of our aborigines, who, to eyes across the water, look like poetical beings. we are continually reproached by british writers for the obtuse carelessness with which we are allowing these people, with so much of the heroic element in their lives, and so much of the mysterious in their origin, to go into the annihilation which seems their inevitable fate as civilization advances, without an effort to secure and record all that they are able to communicate respecting themselves. and the reproach is just. in our hurry of utilitarian progress, we have either forgotten the indian altogether, or looked upon him only in a business point of view, as we do almost everything else; as a thriftless, treacherous, drunken fellow, who knows just enough to be troublesome, and who must be cajoled or forced into leaving his hunting-grounds for the occupation of very orderly and virtuous white people, who sell him gunpowder and whiskey, but send him now and then a missionary to teach him that it is wrong to get drunk and murder his neighbor. to look upon the indian with much regard, even in the light of literary material, would be inconvenient; for the moment we recognize in him a mind, a heart, a soul,--the recollection of the position in which we stand towards him becomes thorny, and we begin dimly to remember certain duties belonging to our christian profession, which we have sadly neglected with regard to the sons of the forest, whom we have driven before us just as fast as we have required or desired their lands. a few efforts have been made, not only to bring the poetry of their history into notice, but to do them substantial good; the public heart, however, has never responded to the feelings of those who, from living in contact with the indians, have felt this interest in them. to most americans, the red man is, to this day, just what he was to the first settlers of the country--a being with soul enough to be blameable for doing wrong, but not enough to claim christian brotherhood, or to make it _very_ sinful to shoot him like a dog, upon the slightest provocation or alarm. while this feeling continues, we shall not look to him for poetry; and the only imaginative writing in which he is likely to be generally used as material, will be kindred to that known by the appropriate title of "pirate literature." mr. cooper and miss sedgwick are, perhaps, alone among our writers in their attempts to do the indian justice, while making him the poetical machine in fiction. missionaries, however, as well as others who have lived among the aborigines for purely benevolent purposes, have discovered in them capabilities and docility which may put to the blush many of the whites who despise and hate them. not only in individual cases, but in more extended instances, the indian has been found susceptible of religious and moral instruction; his heart has warmed to kindness, like any other man's; he has been able to perceive the benefits of regular industry; his head has proved as clear in the apprehension of the distinction between right and wrong as that of the more highly cultivated moralist; and he receives the fundamental truths of the gospel with an avidity, and applies them--at least to the lives and characters of his neighbors--with a keenness, which show him to be not far behind the rest of mankind in sensibility and acuteness. without referring to the testimony of the elder missionaries, which is abundant, i remember a most touching account, by rev. george duffield, jr., of piety in an indian wigwam, which i would gladly transfer to these pages did their limits admit. it could be proved by overwhelming testimony, that the indian is as susceptible of good as his white brother. but it is not necessary in this place to urge his claim to our attention on the ground of his moral and religious capabilities. setting them aside, he has many qualifications for the heroic character as ajax, or even achilles. he is as brave, daring, and ruthless; as passionate, as revengeful, as superstitious, as haughty. he will obey his medicine man, though with fury in his heart and injurious words upon his lips; he will fight to the death for a wife, whom he will afterwards treat with the most sovereign neglect. he understands and accepts the laws of spoil, and carries them out with the most chivalric precision; his torture of prisoners does not exceed those which formed part of the "triumphs" of old; his plan of scalping is far neater and more expeditious than that of dragging a dead enemy thrice round the camp by the heels. he loves splendor, and gets all he can of it; and there is little essential difference, in this regard, between gold and red paint, between diamonds and wampum. he has great ancestral pride--a feeling much in esteem for its ennobling powers; and the _totem_ has all the meaning and use of any other armorial bearing. in the endurance of fatigue, hunger, thirst, and exposure, the forest hero has no superior; in military affairs he fully adopts the orthodox maxim that all stratagems are lawful in war. in short, nothing is wanting but a homer to build our iliad material into "lofty rhyme," or a scott to weave it into border romance; and as we are encouraged to look for scotts and homers at some future day, it is manifestly our duty to be recording fleeting traditions and describing peculiar customs, before the waves of time shall have swept over the retreating footsteps of the "salvage man," and left us nothing but lake and forest, mountains and cataracts, out of which to make our poetry and romance. the indians themselves are full of poetry. their legends embody poetic fancy of the highest and most adventurous flight; their religious ceremonies refer to things unseen with a directness which shows how bold and vivid are their conceptions of the imaginative. the war-song--the death-song--the song of victory--the cradle-chant--the lament for the slain--these are the overflowings of the essential poetry of their untaught souls. their eloquence is proverbially soaring and figurative; and in spite of all that renders gross and mechanical their ordinary mode of marrying and giving in marriage, instances are not rare among them of love as true, as fiery, and as fatal, as that of the most exalted hero of romance. they, indeed, live poetry; it should be ours to write it out for them. mrs. eastman's aim has been to preserve from destruction such legends and traits of indian character as had come to her knowledge during long familiarity; with the dahcotahs, and nothing can be fresher or more authentic than her records, taken down from the very lips of the red people as they sat around her fire and opened their hearts to her kindness. she has even caught their tone, and her language will be found to have something of an ossianic simplicity and abruptness, well suited to the theme. sympathy,--feminine and religious,--breathes through these pages, and the unaffected desire of the writer to awaken a kindly interest in the poor souls who have so twined themselves about her own best feelings, may be said to consecrate the work. in its character of aesthetic material for another age, it appeals to our nationality; while, as the effort of a reflecting and christian mind to call public attention to the needs of an unhappy race, we may ask for it the approbation of all who acknowledge the duty to "teach all nations." c. m. k. new york, _march_, . contents. introduction mock-pe-en-dag-a-win; or, checkered cloud, the medicine woman red earth; or, mocka-doota-win wenona; or, the virgin's feast the dahcotah convert wabashaw the dahcotah bride shah-co-pee the orator of the sioux oye-kar-mani-vim the track-maker eta keazah; or, sullen face tonwa-yah-pe-kin the spies the maiden's rock; or, wenona's leap oeche-monesah the wanderer tah-we-chut-kin the wife wha-zee-yan another of the giant gods of the dahcotahs storms in life and nature; or, unktahe and the thunder bird haokah ozape the dance of the giant u-mi-ne-wah-chippe; or, to dance around introduction. the materials for the following pages were gathered during a residence of seven years in the immediate neighborhood--nay--in the very midst of the once powerful but now nearly extinct tribe of sioux or dahcotah indians. fort snelling is situated seven miles below the falls of st. anthony, at the confluence of the mississippi--and st. peter's rivers--built in , and named after the gallant colonel snelling, of the army, by whom the work was erected. it is constructed of stone; is one of the strongest indian forts in the united states; and being placed on a commanding bluff, has somewhat the appearance of an old german castle, or one of the strongholds on the rhine. the then recent removal of the winnebagoes was rendered troublesome by the interference of wabashaw, the sioux chief, whose village is on the mississippi, miles from its mouth. the father of wabashaw was a noted indian; and during the past summer, the son has given some indications that he inherits the father's talents and courage. when the winnebagoes arrived at wabashaw's prairie, the chief induced them not to continue their journey of removal; offered them land to settle upon near him, and told them it was not really the wish of their great father, that they should remove. his bribes and eloquence induced the winnebagoes to refuse to proceed; although there was a company of volunteer dragoons and infantry with them. this delay occasioning much expense and trouble, the government agents applied for assistance to the command at fort snelling. there was but one company there; and the commanding officer, with twenty men and some friendly sioux, went down to assist the agent. there was an indian council held on the occasion. the sioux who went from fort snelling promised to speak in favor of the removal. during the council, however, not one of them said a word--for which they afterwards gave a satisfactory reason. wabashaw; though a young man, had such influence over his band, that his orders invariably received implicit obedience. when the council commenced, wabashaw had placed a young warrior behind each of the friendly sioux who he knew would speak in favor of the removal, with orders to shoot down the first one who rose for that purpose. this stratagem may be considered a characteristic specimen of the temper and habits of the sioux chiefs, whose tribe we bring before the reader in their most conspicuous ceremonies and habits. the winnebagoes were finally removed, but not until wabashaw was taken prisoner and carried to fort snelling. wabashaw's pike-bearer was a fine looking warrior, named "many lightnings." the village of "little crow," another able and influential sioux chief, is situated twenty miles below the falls of st. anthony. he has four wives, all sisters, and the youngest of them almost a child. there are other villages of the tribe, below and above fort snelling. the scenery about fort snelling is rich in beauty. the falls of st. anthony are familiar to travellers, and to readers of indian sketches. between the fort and these falls are the "little falls," forty feet in height, on a stream that empties into the mississippi. the indians call them mine-hah-hah, or "laughing waters." in sight of fort snelling is a beautiful hill called morgan's bluff; the indians call it "god's house." they have a tradition that it is the residence of their god of the waters, whom they call unk-ta-he. nothing can be more lovely than the situation and appearance of this hill; it commands on every side a magnificent view, and during the summer it is carpeted with long grass and prairie flowers. but, to those who have lived the last few years at fort snelling, this hill presents another source of interest. on its top are buried three young children, who were models of health and beauty until the scarlet fever found its way into regions hitherto shielded from its approach. they lived but long enough on earth to secure them an entrance into heaven. life, which ought to be a blessing to all, was to them one of untold value; for it was a short journey to a better land--a translation from the yet unfelt cares of earth to the bright and endless joys of heaven. opposite the fort is pilot knob, a high peak, used as a burial-place by the indians; just below it is the village of mendota, or the "meeting of the waters." but to me, the greatest objects of interest and curiosity were the original owners of the country, whose teepees could be seen in every direction. one could soon know all that was to be known about pilot knob or st. anthony's falls; but one is puzzled completely to comprehend the character of an indian man, woman, or child. at one moment, you see an indian chief raise himself to his full height, and say that the ground on which he stands is his own; at the next, beg bread and pork from an enemy. an indian woman will scornfully refuse to wash an article that might be needed by a white family--and the next moment, declare that she had not washed her face in fifteen years! an indian child of three years old, will cling to its mother under the walls of the fort, and then plunge into the mississippi, and swim half way across, in hopes of finding an apple that has been thrown in. we may well feel much curiosity to look into the habits, manners, and motives of a race exhibiting such contradictions. there is a great deal said of indian warriors--and justly too of the sioux. they are, as a race, tall fine-looking men; and many of those who have not been degraded by association with the frontier class of white people, nor had their intellects destroyed by the white man's fire-water, have minds of high order, and reason with a correctness that would put to the blush the powers of many an educated logician. yet are these men called savages, and morally associated with the tomahawk and scalping knife. few regard them as reasonable creatures, or as beings endowed by their creator with souls, that are here to be fitted for the responsibilities of the indians hereafter. good men are sending the bible to all parts of the world. sermons are preached in behalf of fellow-creatures who are perishing in regions known only to us in name. and here, within reach of comparatively the slightest exertion; here, not many miles from churches and schools, and all the moral influences abounding in christian society; here, in a country endowed with every advantage that god can bestow, are perishing, body and soul, our own countrymen: perishing too from disease, starvation and intemperance, and all the evils incident to their unhappy condition. white men, christian men, are driving them back; rooting out their very names from the face of the earth. ah! these men can seek the country of the sioux when money is to be gained: but how few care for the sufferings of the dahcotahs! how few would give a piece of money, a prayer, or even a thought, towards their present and eternal good. yet are they not altogether neglected. doctor williamson, one of the missionaries among the sioux, lives near fort snelling. he is exerting himself to the utmost to promote the moral welfare of the unhappy people among whom he expects to pass his life. he has a school for the indian children, and many of them read well. on the sabbath, divine service is regularly held, and he has labored to promote the cause of temperance among the sioux. christian exertion is unhappily too much influenced by the apprehension that little can be done for the savage. how is it with the man on his fire-water mission to the indian? does he doubt? does he fail? as a great motive to improve the moral character of the indians, i present the condition of the women in their tribes. a degraded state of woman is universally characteristic of savage life, as her elevated influence in civilized society is the conspicuous standard of moral and social virtue. the peculiar sorrows of the sioux woman commence at her birth. even as a child she is despised, in comparison with the brother beside her, who is one day to be a great warrior. as a maiden, she is valued while the young man, who wants her for a wife, may have a doubt of his success. but when she is a wife, there is little sympathy for her condition. how soon do the oppressive storms and contentions of life root out all that is kind or gentle in her heart. she must bear the burdens of the family. should her husband wish it, she must travel all day with a heavy weight on her back; and at night when they stop, her hands must prepare the food for her family before she retires to rest. her work is never done. she makes the summer and the winter house. for the former she peels the bark from the trees in the spring; for the latter she sews the deer-skin together. she tans the skins of which coats, mocassins, and leggins are to be made for the family; she has to scrape it and prepare it while other cares are pressing upon her. when her child is born, she has no opportunities for rest or quiet. she must paddle the canoe for her husband--pain and feebleness must be forgotten. she is always hospitable. visit her in her teepee, and she willingly gives you what you need, if in her power; and with alacrity does what she can to promote your comfort. in her looks there is little that is attractive. time has not caused the wrinkles in her forehead, nor the furrows in her cheek. they are the traces of want, passion, sorrows and tears. her bent form was once light and graceful. labor and privations are not preservative of beauty. let it not be deemed impertinent if i venture to urge upon those who care for the wretched wherever their lot may be cast, the immense good that might be accomplished among these tribes by schools, which should open the minds of the young to the light of reason and christianity. even if the elder members are given up as hopeless, with the young there is always encouragement. many a bright little creature among the dahcotahs is as capable of receiving instruction as are the children of civilization. why should they be neglected when the waters of benevolence are moving all around them? it is not pretended that all the incidents related in these stories occurred exactly as they are stated. most of them are entirely true; while in others the narrative is varied in order to show some prevalent custom, or to illustrate some sentiment to which these indians are devoted. the sioux are as firm believers in their religion as we are in ours; and they are far more particular in the discharge of what they conceive to be the obligations required by the objects of their faith and worship. there are many allusions to the belief and customs of the dahcotahs that require explanation. for this purpose i have obtained from the sioux themselves the information required. on matters of faith there is difference of opinion among them--but they do not make more points of difference on religion, or on any other subject, than white people do. the day of the dahcotah is far spent; to quote the language of a chippeway chief, "the indian's glory is passing away." they seem to be almost a god-forgotten race. some few have given the missionary reason to hope that they have been made subjects of christian faith--and the light, that has as yet broken in faint rays upon their darkness, may increase. he who takes account of the falling of a sparrow, will not altogether cast away so large a portion of his creatures. all christian minds will wish success to the indian missionary; and assuredly god will be true to his mercy, where man is found true to his duty. the first impression created by the sioux was the common one--fear. in their looks they were so different from the indians i had occasionally seen. there was nothing in their aspect to indicate the success of efforts made to civilize them. their tall, unbending forms, their savage hauteur, the piercing black eye, the quiet indifference of manner, the slow, stealthy step--how different were they from the eastern indians, whose associations with the white people seem to have deprived them of all native dignity of bearing and of character. the yells heard outside the high wall of the fort at first filled me with alarm; but i soon became accustomed to them, and to all other occasional indian excitements, that served to vary the monotony of garrison life. before i felt much interest in the sioux, they seemed to have great regard for me. my husband, before his marriage, had been stationed at fort snelling and at prairie du chien. he was fond of hunting and roaming about the prairies; and left many friends among the indians when he obeyed the order to return to an eastern station. on going back to the indian country, he met with a warm welcome from his old acquaintances, who were eager to shake hands with "eastman's squaw." the old men laid their bony hands upon the heads of my little boys, admired their light hair, said their skins were very white; and, although i could not then understand their language, they told me many things, accompanied with earnest gesticulation. they brought their wives and young children to see me. i had been told that indian women gossiped and stole; that they were filthy and troublesome. yet i could not despise them: they were wives and mothers--god had implanted the same feelings in their hearts as in mine. some indians visited us every day, and we frequently saw them at their villages. captain e. spoke their language well; and without taking any pains to acquire it, i soon understood it so as to talk with them. the sufferings of the women and children, especially during the winter season, appealed to my heart. their humility in asking for assistance contrasted strongly with the pompous begging of the men. late in a winter's afternoon, wenona, wife of a chief named the "star," came to my room. undoing a bundle that she took from under her blanket, she approached and showed it to me. it was an infant three days old, closely strapped to an indian cradle. the wretched babe was shrivelled and already looking old from hunger. she warmed it by the fire, attempting to still its feeble cries. "do you nurse your baby well, wenona?" i asked; "it looks so thin and small." "how can i," was the reply, "when i have not eaten since it was born?" frequently we have heard of whole families perishing during severely cold weather. the father absent on a winter's hunt, the mother could not leave her children to apply to the fort for assistance, even had she strength left to reach there. the frozen bodies would be found in the lodges. the improvident character of the indian is well known. their annuities are soon spent; supplies received from government are used in feasting; and no provision is made for winters that are always long and severe. though they receive frequent assistance from the public at the fort, the wants of all cannot be supplied. the captain of the post was generous towards them, as was always my friend mrs. f., whom they highly esteemed. yet some hearts are closed against appeals daily made to their humanity. an indian woman may suffer from hunger or sickness, because her looks are repulsive and her garments unwashed: some will say they can bear the want of warm clothing, because they have been used to privation. the women of the sioux exhibit many striking peculiarities of character--the love of the marvellous, and a profound veneration for any and every thing connected with their religious faith; a willingness to labor and to learn; patience in submitting to insults from servants who consider them intruders in families; the evident recognition of the fact that they are a doomed race, and must submit to indignities that they dare not resent. they seem, too, so unused to sympathy, often comparing their lives of suffering and hardship with the ease and comfort enjoyed by the white women, it must be a hard heart, that could withhold sympathy from such poor creatures. their home was mine--and such a home! the very sunsets, more bright and glorious than i had ever seen, seemed to love to linger over the scenes amongst which we lived; the high bluffs of the "father of many waters" and the quiet shores of the "minesota;" the fairy rings on the prairie, and the "spirit lakes" that reposed beside them; the bold peak, pilot knob, on whose top the indians bury their dead, with the small hills rising gradually around it--all were dear to the sioux and to me. they believed that the rocks, and hills, and waters were peopled with fairies and spirits, whose power and anger they had ever been taught to fear. i knew that god, whose presence fills all nature, was there. in fancy they beheld their deities in the blackened cloud and fearful storm; i saw mine in the brightness of nature, the type of the unchanging light of heaven. they evinced the warmest gratitude to any who had ever displayed kind feelings towards them. when our little children were ill with scarlet fever, how grieved they were to witness their sufferings; especially as we watched virginia, waiting, as we expected, to receive her parting breath. how strongly they were contrasted! that fair child, unconscious even of the presence of the many kind friends who had watched and wept beside her--and the aged sioux women, who had crept noiselessly into the chamber. i remember them well, as they leaned over the foot of the bed; their expressive and subdued countenances full of sorrow. that small white hand, that lay so powerless, had ever been outstretched to welcome them when they came weary and hungry. they told me afterwards, that "much water fell from their eyes day and night, while they thought she would die;" that the servants made them leave the sick room, and then turned them out of the house--but that they would not go home, waiting outside to hear of her. during her convalescence, i found that they could "rejoice with those that rejoice" as well as "weep with those that wept." the fearful disease was abating in our family, and "old harper," as she is called in the fort, offered to sit up and attend to the fire. we allowed her to do so, for the many who had so kindly assisted us were exhausted with fatigue. joy had taken from me all inclination to sleep, and i lay down near my little girl, watching the old sioux woman. she seemed to be reviewing the history of her life, so intently did she gaze at the bright coals on the hearth. many strange thoughts apparently engaged her. she was, of her own accord, an inmate of the white man's house, waiting to do good to his sick child. she had wept bitterly for days, lest the child should be lost to her--and now she was full of happiness, at the prospect of her recovery. how shall we reconcile this with the fact that harper, or harpstinah, was one of the sioux women, who wore, as long as she could endure it, a necklace made of the hands and feet of chippeway children? here, in the silence of night, she turned often towards the bed, when the restless sleep of the child broke in on her meditation. she fancied i slept, but my mind was busy too. i was far away from the home of my childhood, and a sioux woman, with her knife in her belt, was assisting me in the care of my only daughter. she thought dr. t. was a "wonderful medicine man" to cure her; in which opinion we all cordially coincided. i always listened with pleasure to the women, when allusion was made to their religion; but when they spoke of their tradition, i felt as a miser would, had he discovered a mine of gold. i had read the legends of the maiden's rock, and of st. anthony's falls. i asked checkered cloud to tell them to me. she did so--and how differently they were told! with my knowledge of the language, and the aid of my kind and excellent friend mr. prescott, all the dark passages in her narration were made clear. i thought the indian tone of feeling was not rightly appreciated--their customs not clearly stated, perhaps not fairly estimated. the red man, considered generally as a creature to be carried about and exhibited for money, was, in very truth, a being immortally endowed, though under a dispensation obscure to the more highly-favored white race. as they affirmed a belief in the traditions of their tribe, with what strength and beauty of diction they clothed their thoughts--how energetic in gesture! alas! for the people who had no higher creed, no surer trust, for this and for another world. however they may have been improved, no one could have had better opportunities than i, to acquire all information of interest respecting these indians. i lived among them seven years. the chiefs from far and near were constantly visiting the fort, and were always at our house. not a sentiment is in the legends that i did not hear from the lips of the indian man or woman. they looked on my husband as their friend, and talked to him freely on all subjects, whether of religion, customs, or grievances. they were frequently told that i was writing about them, that every body might know what great warriors they were. the men were sometimes astonished at the boldness with which i reproved them, though it raised me much in their estimation. i remember taking bad hail, one of their chiefs, to task, frequently; and on one occasion he told me, by way of showing his gratitude for the interest i took in his character, that he had three wives, all of whom he would give up if i would "leave eastman, and come and live with him." i received his proposition, however, with indian indifference, merely replying that i did not fancy having my head split open every few days with a stick of wood. he laughed heartily after his fashion, conscious that the cap fitted, for he was in the habit of expending all his surplus bad temper upon his wives. i have sometimes thought, that if, when a warrior, be he chief or commoner, throws a stick of wood at his wife's head, she were to cast it back at his, he might, perhaps, be taught better behaviour. but i never dared to instil such insubordinate notions into the heads of my sioux female friends, lest some ultra "brave," in a desperate rage, might substitute the tomahawk for the log. these opinions, too, might have made me unpopular with sioux and turks--and, perchance, with some of my more enlightened friends, who are self-constituted "lords of creation." i noticed that indians, like white people, instead of confessing and forsaking their sins, were apt to excuse themselves by telling how much worse their neighbors were. when told how wicked it was to have more than one wife, they defended themselves by declaring that the winnebagoes had twice or thrice as many as the sioux. the attempt to make one right of two wrongs seems to be instinctive. i wished to learn correctly the indian songs which they sing in celebrating their dances. i sent for a chief, little hill, who is a famous singer, but with little perseverance as a teacher of music. he soon lost all patience with me, refused to continue the lesson, declaring that he could never make me sing like a sioux squaw. the low, guttural notes created the difficulty. he very quickly became tired of my piano and singing. the chiefs and medicine men always answered my questions readily, respecting their laws and religion; but, to insure good humor, they must first have something to eat. all the scraps of food collected in the kitchen; cold beef, cold buckwheat cakes; nothing went amiss, especially as to quantity. pork is their delight--apples they are particularly fond of--and, in the absence of fire-water, molasses and water is a most acceptable beverage. then they had to smoke and nod a little before the fire--and by and by i heard all about the great spirit, and hookah the giant, and the powers of the sacred medicine. all that is said in this book of their religion, laws, and sentiments, i learned from themselves, and most of the incidents occurred precisely as they are represented. some few have been varied, but only where it might happily illustrate a peculiar custom or opinion. their medicine men, priests, and jugglers, are proverbially the greatest scamps of the tribe. my dear father must forgive me for reflecting so harshly on his brother practitioners, and be reconciled when he hears that they belong to the corps of quacks; for they doubt their own powers, and are constantly imposing on the credulity of others. on returning from an evening walk, we met, near the fort, a notable procession. first came an old medicine man, whose indian name i cannot recall; but the children of the garrison called him "old sneak"--a most appropriate appellation, for he always looked as if he had just committed murder, and was afraid of being found out. on this occasion he looked particularly in character. what a representative of the learned faculty! after him, in indian file, came his wife and children, a most cadaverous looking set. to use a western phrase, they all looked as if they were "just dug up." their appearance was accounted for in the following ludicrous manner--the story is doubtless substantially true. there was a quantity of refuse medicine that had been collecting in the hospital at the fort, and old sneak happened to be present at a general clearing out. the medicine was given to him; and away he went to his home, hugging it up close to him like a veritable old miser. it was too precious to be shared with his neighbors; the medicine of the white man was "wahkun" (wonderful)--and, carrying out the principle that the more of a good thing the better, he, with his wife and children, took it all! i felt assured that the infant strapped to its mother's back was dying at that time. the "dog dance" is held by the sioux in great reverence; and the first time it has been celebrated near the fort for many years, was about five summers ago. the chippeways, with their chief, "hole in the day," were down on a visit, and the prairie outside the fort was covered with indians of both tribes. the chippeways sat on the grass at a little distance, watching the sioux as they danced, "to show how brave they were, and how they could eat the hearts of their enemies." most of the officers and ladies of the garrison were assembled on the hospital gallery to witness the dance. the sioux warriors formed a circle; in the centre was a pole fastened in the ground. one of the indians killed a dog, and, taking out the heart and liver, held them for a few moments in a bucket of cold water, and then hung them to the pole. after awhile, one of the warriors advanced towards it, barking. his attitude was irresistibly droll; he tried to make himself look as much as possible like a dog, and i thought he succeeded to admiration. he retreated, and another warrior advanced with a different sort of bark; more joined in, until there was a chorus of barking. next, one becomes very courageous, jumps and barks towards the pole, biting off a piece of the flesh; another follows and does the same feat. one after another they all bark and bite. "let dogs delight" would have been, an appropriate melody for the occasion. they had to hold their heads back to swallow the morçeau--it was evidently hard work. several dogs were killed in succession, when, seeing some of the warriors looking pale and deadly sick, captain e. determined to try how many of their enemies' hearts they could dispose of. he went down among the indians and purchased another dog. they could not refuse to eat the heart. it made even the bravest men sick to swallow the last mouthful--they were pale as death. i saw the last of it, and although john gilpin's ride might be a desirable sight, yet when the sioux celebrate another dog feast, "may i not be there to see." our intercourse with the sioux was greatly facilitated, and our influence over them much increased, by the success attending my husband's efforts to paint their portraits. they thought it supernatural (wahkun) to be represented on canvas. some were prejudiced against sitting, others' esteemed it a great compliment to be asked, but all expected to be paid for it. and if anything were wanting to complete our opportunities for gaining all information that was of interest, we found it in the daguerreotype. captain e., knowing they were about to celebrate a feast he wished to paint in group, took his apparatus out, and, when they least expected it, transferred the group to his plate. the awe, consternation, astonishment and admiration, surpassed description. "ho! eastman is all wahkun!" the indians are fond of boasting and communicating their exploits and usages to those who have their confidence. while my husband has delineated their features with the pencil, i have occupied pleasantly many an hour in learning from them how to represent accurately the feelings and features of their hearts--feeble though my pen be. we never failed to gain a point by providing a good breakfast or dinner. with the rev. mr. pond and dr. williamson, both missionaries among the sioux, i had many a pleasant interview and talk about the tribe. they kindly afforded me every assistance--and as they are perfectly acquainted with the language of the sioux, and have studied their religion with the view to introduce the only true one, i could not have applied to more enlightened sources, or better authority. the day we left fort snelling, i received from mr. pond the particulars of the fate of the sioux woman who was taken prisoner by the chippeways, and who is represented in the legend called the wife. soon after her return to her husband, he was killed by the chippeways; and the difficulty was settled by the chippeways paying to the sioux what was considered the value of the murdered man, in goods, such as calico, tobacco, &c.! after his death, the widow married a sioux, named "scarlet face." they lived harmoniously for a while--but soon difficulties arose, and scarlet face, in a fit of savage rage, beat her to death. a most unromantic conclusion to her eventful life. how vivid is our recollection of the grief the sioux showed at parting with us. for although, at the time, it added to the pain naturally felt at leaving a place which had so long been our home; yet the sincere affection they evinced towards us and our children was most gratifying. they wished us to remember them, when far away, with kindness. the farewell of my friend checkered cloud can never be forgotten. she was my constant visitor for years; and, although a poor and despised sioux woman, i learned to look upon her with respect and regard. nor does my interest in her and her nation cease, because, in the chances of life, we may never meet again. it will still be my endeavor to depict all the customs, feasts and ceremonies of the sioux, before it be too late. the account of them may be interesting, when the people who so long believed in them will be no more. we can see they are passing away, but who can decide the interesting question of their origin? they told me that their nation had always lived in the valley of the mississippi--that their wise men had asserted this for ages past. some who have lived among them, think they crossed over from persia in ships--and that they once possessed the knowledge of building large vessels, though they have now entirely lost it. this idea bears too little probability to command any confidence. the most general opinion is the often told one, that they are a remnant of god's ancient and chosen people. be this as it may, they are "as the setting sun, or as the autumn leaves trampled upon by powerful riders." they are receding rapidly, and with feeble resistance, before the giant strides of civilization. the hunting grounds of a few savages will soon become the haunts of densely peopled, civilized settlements. we should be better reconciled to this manifest destiny of the aborigines, if the inroads of civilization were worthy of it; if the last years of these, in some respects, noble people, were lit up with the hope-inspiring rays of christianity. we are not to judge the heathen; yet universal evidence gives the melancholy fact, that the light of nature does not lead the soul to god: and without judging of their destiny, we are bound to enlighten their minds. we know the great being of whom they are ignorant; and well will it be for them and for us, in a day that awaits us all, if yet, though late, sadly late--yet not too late, we so give countenance and aid to the missionary, that the light of revealed truth may cheer the remaining period of their national and individual, existence. will it be said that i am regarding, with partial eye and sentimental romance, but one side of the sioux character? have they no faults, as a people and individually? they are savages--and that goes far to answer the question. perhaps the best answer is, the women have faults enough, and the men twice as many as the women. but if to be a savage is to be cruel, vindictive, ferocious--dare we say that to be a civilized man necessarily implies freedom from these traits? want of truth, and habitual dishonesty in little things, are prevalent traits among the sioux. most of them will take a kitchen spoon or fork, if they have a chance--and they think it fair thus to return the peculations of the whites. they probably have an idea of making up for the low price at which their lands have been valued, by maintaining a constant system of petty thefts--or perhaps they consider kitchen utensils as curiosities, just as the whites do their mocassins and necklaces of bear's claws. yes--it must be confessed, however unsentimental, they almost all steal. the men think it undignified for them to steal, so they send their wives thus unlawfully to procure what they want--and wo be to them if they are found out. the husband would shame and beat his wife for doing what he certainly would have beaten her for refusing to do. as regards the honesty of the men, i give you the opinion of the husband of checkered cloud, who was an excellent indian. "every sioux;" said he, "will steal if he need, and there be a chance. the best indian that ever lived, has stolen. i myself once stole some powder." i have thus, perhaps tediously, endeavored to show, that what is said in this work has been learned by intimate association, and that for years, with the indian. this association has continued under influences that secured unreservedly their confidence, friendship--and i may say--truly, in many instances--their affection. if the perusal of the legends give pleasure to my friends--how happy am i! to do more than this i hardly dare hope. m. h. e. preliminary remarks on the customs of the dahcotahs. i. sioux ceremonies, scalp dance, &c. the sioux occupy a country from the mississippi river to some point west of the missouri, and from the chippewa tribe on the north, to the winnebago on the south; the whole extent being about nine hundred miles long by four hundred in breadth. dahcotah is the proper name of this once powerful tribe of indians. the term sioux is not recognized, except among those who live near the whites. it is said to have been given by the old french traders, that the dahcotahs might not know when they were the subjects of conversation. the exact meaning of the word has never been ascertained. dahcotah means a confederacy. a number of bands live near each other on terms of friendship, their customs and laws being the same. they mean by the word dahcotah what we mean by the confederacy of states in our union. the tribe is divided into a number of bands, which are subdivided into villages; every village being governed by its own chief. the honor of being chief is hereditary, though for cause a chief may be deposed and another substituted; and the influence the chief possesses depends much more upon his talents and capacity to govern, than upon mere hereditary descent. to every village there is also a _war-chief_, and as to these are ascribed supernatural powers, their influence is unbounded. leading every military excursion, the war-chief's command is absolute with his party. there are many clans among the sioux, and these are distinguished from each other by the different kinds of medicine they use. each clan takes a root for its medicine, known only to those initiated into the mysteries of the clan. the name of this root must be kept a secret. many of these roots are entirely destitute of medicinal power. the clans are governed by a sort of free-masonry system. a dahcotah would die rather than divulge the secret of his clan. the clans keep up almost a perpetual warfare with each other. each one supposes the other to be possessed of supernatural powers, by which they can, cause the death of any individual, though he may live at a great distance. this belief is the cause of a great deal of bloodshed. when a dahcotah dies, it is attributed to some one of another clan, and revenge is sought by the relatives of the deceased. all their supposed supernatural powers are invoked to destroy the murderer. they first try the powers of their sacred medicine, imagining they can cast a fatal spell on the offender; if this fail, they have recourse to more destructive weapons, and the axe, knife or gun may be fatally used. after the supposed murderer is killed, his relations retaliate, and thus successive feuds become perpetual. the dahcotahs, though a reckless, are a generous people, usually kind and affectionate to their aged, though instances to the contrary frequently occur. among the e-yanktons, there was a man so feeble and decrepit from age as to be totally unable to take care of himself; not being able to walk, he occasioned great trouble. when the band went out hunting, he entreated the young men to drag him along, that he might not fall a prey to the chippeways, or to a fate equally dreaded, cold and starvation. for a time they seemed to pity him, and there were always those among the hunting party who were willing to render him assistance. at last he fell to the charge of some young men, who, wearied with carrying him from place to place, told him they would leave him, but he need not die a lingering death. they gave him a gun, and placed him on the ground to be shot at, telling him to try and kill one of the young warriors who were to fire at him; and thus he would have so much more honor to carry with him to the land of spirits. he knew it was useless to attempt to defend himself. in a few moments he received his death-wound, and was no longer a burden to himself or to others. the sioux have a number of superstitious notions, which particularly influence the women. they are slavishly fearful of the spirits of the dead, and a thousand other fancies. priests and jugglers are venerated from their supposed supernatural powers. little is generally known of their religion or their customs. one must live among them to induce them to impart any information concerning their mode of life or religious faith; to a stranger they are always reserved. their dances and feasts are not amusements. they all have an object and meaning, and are celebrated year after year, under a belief that neglect will be punished by the great spirit by means of disease, want, or the attacks of enemies. all their fear of punishment is confined to what they may suffer in this world. they have no fear of the anger of their deities being continued after death. revolting as the ceremony of dancing round a scalp seems to us, an indian believes it to be a sacred duty to celebrate it. the dancing part is performed by the old and young squaws. the medicine men sing, beat the drum, rattle the gourd, and use such other instruments as they contrive. anything is considered a musical instrument that will assist in creating discordant sound. one of these is a bone with notches on it, one end of which rests on a tin pan, the other being held in the left hand, while, with a piece of bone in the right, which a medicine man draws over the notches, sounds as discordant and grating as possible are created. the squaws dance around the scalps in concentric circles, in groups of from four to twelve together, pressing their shoulders against each other, and at every stroke of the drum raising themselves to their utmost height, hopping and sliding a short distance to the left, singing all the time with the medicine men. they keep time perfectly. in the centre, the scalps are attached to a pole stuck in the ground, or else carried on the shoulders of some of the squaws. the scalp is stretched on a hoop, and the pole to which it is attached is several feet long. it is also covered with vermilion or red earth, and ornamented with feathers, ribbons, beads, and other trinkets, and usually a pair of scissors or a comb. after dancing for a few minutes, the squaws stop to rest. during this interval one of the squaws, who has had a son, husband, or brother killed by a warrior of the tribe from which the scalp she holds was taken, will relate the particulars of his death, and wind up by saying, "whose scalp have i now on my shoulders?" at this moment there is a general shout, and the dance again commences. this ceremony continues sometimes, at intervals, for months; usually during the warm weather. after the dance is done, the scalp is buried or put up on the scaffold with some of the deceased of the tribe who took the scalp. so much for the scalp dance--a high religious ceremony, not, as some suppose, a mere amusement. the sacred feast is given in honor of the sacred medicine, and is always given by medicine-men or women who are initiated into the mysteries of the medicine dance. the medicine men are invariably the greatest rascals of the band, yet the utmost respect is shown them. every one fears the power of a medicine man. when a medicine man intends giving a feast, he goes or sends to the persons whom he wishes to invite. when all are assembled, the giver of the feast opens the medicine bag with some formality. the pipe is lit and smoked by all present; but it is first offered to the great spirit. after the smoking, food is placed in wooden bowls, or other vessels that visitors may have brought; for it is not a breach of etiquette to bring dishes with you to the feast. when all are served, the word is given to commence eating, and those that cannot eat all that is given them, must make a present to the host, besides hiring some one present to eat what they fail to consume. to waste a morsel would offend the great spirit, and injure or render useless the medicine. every one having finished eating, the kettle in which the food was cooked is smoked with cedar leaves or grass. before the cooking is commenced, all the fire within the wigwam is put out, and a fresh one made from flint and steel. in the celebration of the sacred feast, the fire and cooking utensils are kept and consecrated exclusively to that purpose. after the feast is over, all the bones are carefully collected and thrown into the water, in order that no dog may get them, nor a woman trample on them. the sioux worship the sun. the _sun dance_ is performed by young warriors who dance, at intervals of five minutes, for several days. they hop on one foot and then on the other, keeping time to the drum, and making indescribable gestures, each having a small whistle in his mouth, with his face turned towards the sun. the singing and other music is performed by the medicine men. the drum used is a raw hide stretched over a keg, on which a regular beating of time is made with a short stick with a head to it. women pretend to foretell future events, and, for this reason, are sometimes invited to medicine feasts. ii. indian doctors. when an indian is sick and wants "the doctor" as we say, or a medicine man, as they say,--they call them also priests, doctors and jugglers,--a messenger is sent for one, with a pipe filled in one hand, and payment in the other; which fee may be a gun, blanket, kettle or anything in the way of present. the messenger enters the wigwam (or teepee, as the houses of the sioux are called) of the juggler, presents the pipe, and lays the present or fee beside him. having smoked, the doctor goes to the teepee of the patient, takes a seat at some distance from him, divests himself of coat or blanket, and pulls his leggins to his ankles. he then calls for a gourd, which has been suitably prepared, by drying and putting small beads or gravel stones in it, to make a rattling noise. taking the gourd, he begins to rattle it and to sing, thereby to charm the animal that has entered the body of the sick sioux. after singing _hi-he-hi-hah_ in quick succession, the chorus _ha-ha-ha, hahahah_ is more solemnly and gravely chanted. on due repetition of this the doctor stops to smoke; then sings and rattles again. he sometimes attempts to draw with his mouth the disease from an arm or a limb that he fancies to be affected. then rising, apparently almost suffocated, groaning terribly and thrusting his face into a bowl of water, he makes all sorts of gestures and noises. this is to get rid of the disease that he pretends to have drawn from the sick person. when he thinks that some animal, fowl or fish, has possession of the sick man, so as to cause the disease, it becomes necessary to destroy the animal by shooting it. to accomplish this, the doctor makes the shape of the animal of bark, which is placed in a bowl of water mixed with red earth, which he sets outside of the wigwam where some young men are standing, who are instructed by the doctor how and when to shoot the animal. when all is ready, the doctor pops his head out of the wigwam, on his hands and knees. at this moment the young men fire at the little bark animal, blowing it to atoms; when the doctor jumps at the bowl, thrusting his face into the water, grunting, groaning and making a vast deal of fuss. suddenly a woman jumps upon his back, then dismounts, takes the doctor by the hair, and drags him back into the teepee. all fragments of the bark animal are then collected and burned. the ceremony there ceases. if the patient does not recover, the doctor says he did not get the right animal. the reader must be convinced that it is not for want of the most strenuous exertions on the part of the physician. these are some of the customs of the dahcotahs, which, however absurd they may appear to us, are held in sacred reverence by them. there are some animals, birds and fishes, that an indian venerates; and the creature thus sacred, he dare neither kill nor eat. the selection is usually a bear, buffalo, deer, otter, eagle, hawk or snake. one will not eat the right wing of a bird; another dare not eat the left: nor are the women allowed to eat any part that is considered sacred. the sioux say it is lawful to take revenge, but otherwise it is not right to murder. when murder is committed, it is an injury to the deceased; not a sin against the great spirit. some of their wise men say that the great spirit has nothing to do with their affairs, present or future. they pretend to know but little of a future state. they have dreamy ideas of large cities somewhere in the heavens, where they will go, but still be at war with their enemies and have plenty of game. an indian woman's idea of future happiness consists in relief from care. "oh! that i were dead," they will often say, "when i shall have no more trouble." veneration is much regarded in all indian families. thus a son-in-law must never call his father-in-law by his name, but by the title father-in-law, and vice versa. a female is not permitted to handle the sac for war purposes; neither does she dare look into a looking-glass, for fear of losing her eyesight. the appearance of a brilliant aurora-borealis occasions great alarm. the indians run immediately for their guns and bows and arrows to shoot at it, and thus disperse it. iii. indian names and writing. the names of the sioux bands or villages, are as fanciful as those given to individuals. near fort snelling, are the "men-da-wahcan-tons," or people of the spirit lakes; the "wahk-patons," or people of the leaves; the "wahk-pa-coo-tahs," or people that shoot at leaves, and other bands who have names of this kind. among those chiefs who have been well-known around fort snelling, are, wah-ba-shaw, the leaf. wah-ke-on-tun-kah, big thunder. wah-coo-ta, red wing. muzza hotah, gray iron. ma-pe-ah-we-chas-tah, the man in the cloud. tah-chun-coo-wash-ta, good road. sha-ce-pee, the sixth. wah-soo-we-chasta-ne, bad hail. ish-ta-hum-bah, sleepy eyes. these fanciful names are given to them from some peculiarity in appearance or conduct; or sometimes from an occurrence that took place at the time that they usually receive the name that is ascribed to them for life. there is a sioux living in the neighborhood of fort snelling, called "the man that walks with the women." it is not customary for the indian to show much consideration for the fair sex, and this young man, exhibiting some symptoms of gallantry unusual among them, received the above name. the sioux have ten names for their children, given according to the order of their birth. the oldest son is called chaskè, " second, haparm, " third, ha-pe-dah, " fourth, chatun, " fifth, harka, the oldest daughter is called wenonah, " second, harpen, " third, harpstenah, " fourth, waska, " fifth, we-barka. these names they retain until another is given by their relations or friends. the dahcotahs say that _meteors_ are men or women flying through the air; that they fall to pieces as they go along, finally falling to the earth. they call them "wah-ken-den-da," or the mysterious passing fire. they have a tradition of a meteor which, they say, was passing over a hill where there was an indian asleep. the meteor took the indian on his back, and continued his route till it came to a pond where there were many ducks. the ducks seeing the meteor, commenced a general quacking, which so alarmed him that he turned off and went around the pond, and was about to pass over an indian village. here he was again frightened by a young warrior, who was playing on the flute. being afraid of music, he passed around the village, and soon after falling to the earth, released his burden. the indian then asked the meteor to give him his head strap, which he refused. the indian offered him a feather of honor for it, and was again refused. the sioux, determined to gain his point, told the meteor if he would give him the strap, he would kill a big enemy for him. no reply from the meteor. the indian then offered to kill a wigwam full of enemies--the meteor still mute. the last offer was six wigwams full of dead enemies for the so much coveted strap. the meteor was finally bribed, gave up the head-strap, and the sioux went home with the great glory of having outwitted a meteor; for, as they met no more, the debt was never paid. the _language_ of the sioux would, with proper facilities, be easily acquired. it is said, in many respects, to resemble the ancient greek. even after having acquired considerable knowledge of the language by study, it is necessary to live among the people in order to understand their fanciful mode of speaking. one of the chiefs, "sleepy eyes," visited a missionary not many weeks since, and on being asked why he did not come at the time appointed, replied, "how could i come when i have no mocassins," meaning that he had no horse. the horse had recently been killed by a man who owed him a grudge; and his way of alluding to the loss was the mocassins. on another occasion, this same chief, having done what he considered a favor for the missionaries, at _traverse des sioux_, told them that his coat was worn out, and that he had neither cloth nor thread to mend it; the fact was, that he had no coat at all, no cloth nor thread; his brawny neck and arms were entirely bare, and this was his way of begging for a new coat. in indian warfare, the victor takes the scalp of his enemy. if he have time, he takes the entire scalp, including the ears; but if hurried, a smaller scalp-piece is taken. as an inducement to be foremost in battle, the first four that touch the dead body of an enemy, share the honors that are paid to the one who slew the foe and took the scalp. but the victors in indian fight frequently suffer in this way; a wounded savage feigns death, and, as some warrior approaches to take his scalp, he will suddenly rise, discharge his gun, and fight desperately with the tomahawk until killed. deeds of valor performed by indians are as often done from desperation as from any natural bravery. they are educated to warfare, but often show great disinclination to fight; strategy goes farther with them than manly courage does. at fort snelling, the sioux have more than once crouched under the walls of the fort for protection, and on one occasion a chief, who came in to give information of the approach of some chippeways trembled so as to shake the ornaments about his dress. indian writing. [illustration: no. i and , prisoners captured by no. . (no hands on the prisoners.) no. , female prisoner. no. , male.] [illustration: nos. and , female and male killed; and , boy and girl killed.] [illustration: no. , that he has killed his enemy; , that he has cut the throat of his enemy, and taken the scalp; , that he was the third that touched the body of his enemy after he was killed; , the fourth that touched it; , the fifth that touched it.] [illustration: no. , been wounded in many places by this enemy; , that he has cut the throat of the enemy.] the above represents the feathers from the war eagle. they are worn in the hair of the warriors, as honors. the above represents the only way that the sioux have of writing an account of an engagement that has taken place. iv. indian children. the children among the sioux are early accustomed to look with indifference upon the sufferings or death of a person they hate. a few years ago a battle was fought quite near fort snelling. the next day the sioux children were playing foot-ball merrily with the head of a chippeway. one boy, and a small boy too, had ornamented his head and ears with curls. he had taken the skin peeled off a chippeway who was killed in the battle, wound it around a stick until it assumed the appearance of a curl, and tied them over his ears. another child had a string around his neck with a finger hanging to it as an ornament. the infants, instead of being amused with toys or trinkets, are held up to see the scalp of an enemy, and they learn to hate a chippeway as soon as to ask for food. after the battle, the mother of a sioux who was severely wounded found her way to the fort. she entered the room weeping sadly. becoming quite exhausted, she seated herself on the floor, and said she wanted some coffee and sugar for her sick son, some linen to bind up his wounds, a candle to burn at night, and some whiskey _to make her cry_! her son recovered, and the mother, as she sat by and watched him, had the satisfaction to see the scalps of the murdered chippeways stretched on poles all through the village, around which she, sixty years old, looked forward with great joy to dance; though _this_ was a small gratification compared with her recollection of having formerly cut to pieces the bodies of sundry murdered chippeway children. a dreadful creature she was! how vividly her features rise before me. well do i remember her as she entered my room on a stormy day in january. her torn mocassins were a mocking protection to her nearly frozen feet; her worn "okendo kenda" hardly covering a wrinkled neck and arms seamed with the scars of many a self-inflicted wound; she tried to make her tattered blanket meet across her chest, but the benumbed fingers were powerless, and her step so feeble, from fatigue and want of food, that she almost fell before the cheerful fire that seemed to welcome her. the smile with which she tried to return my greeting added hideously to the savage expression of her features, and her matted hair was covered with flakes of the drifting snow that almost blinded her. food, a pipe, and a short nap before the fire, refreshed her wonderfully. at first she would hardly deign an answer to our questions; now she becomes quite talkative. her small keen eye follows the children as they play about the room; she tells of her children when they were young, and played around her; when their father brought her venison for food. where are they? the chippeways (mark her as she compresses her lips, and see the nervous trembling of her limbs) killed her husband and her oldest son: consumption walked among her household idols. she has one son left, but he loves the white man's _fire-water_; he has forgotten his aged mother--she has no one to bring her food--the young men laugh at her, and tell her to kill game for herself. at evening she must be going--ten miles she has to walk to reach her teepee, for she cannot sleep in the white man's house. we tell her the storm is howling--it will be dark before she reaches home--the wind blows keenly across the open prairie--she had better lie down on the carpet before the fire and sleep. she points to the walls of the fort--she does not speak; but her action says, "it cannot be; the sioux woman cannot sleep beneath the roof of her enemies." she is gone--god help the sioux woman! the widow and the childless. god help her, i say, for other hope or help has she none. gods of the dahcotahs. first in order of the gods of the dahcotahs, comes the great spirit. he is the creator of all things, excepting thunder and wild rice. then there is, wakinyan, or man of the west. wehiyayanpa-micaxta, man of the east. wazza, man of the north. itokaga-micaxta, man of the south. onkteri, or unktahe, god of the waters. hayoka, or haoka, the antinatural god. takuakanxkan, god of motion. canotidan, little dweller in woods. this god is said to live in a forest, in a hollow tree. witkokaga, the befooler, that is, the god who deceives or fools animals so that they can be easily taken. [illustration] dahcotah; or, the legends of the sioux. mock-pe-en-dag-a-win: or, checkered cloud, the medicine woman. [footnote: a medicine woman is a female doctor or juggler. no man or woman can assume this office without previous initiation by authority. the medicine dance is a sacred rite, in honor of the souls of the dead; the mysteries of this dance are kept inviolable; its secrets have never been divulged by its members. the medicine men and women attend in cases of sickness. the sioux have the greatest faith in them. when the patient recovers, it redounds to the honor of the doctor; if he die, they say "the time had come that he should die," or that the "medicine of the person who cast a spell upon the sick person was stronger than the doctor's." they can always find a satisfactory solution of the failure of the charm.] within a few miles of fort snelling lives checkered cloud. not that she has any settled habitation; she is far too important a character for that. indeed she is not often two days in the same place. her wanderings are not, however, of any great extent, so that she can always be found when wanted. but her wigwam is about seven miles from the fort, and she is never much farther off. her occupations change with the day. she has been very busy of late, for checkered cloud is one of the medicine women of the dahcotahs; and as the indians have had a good deal of sickness among them, you might follow her from teepee to teepee, as she proceeds with the sacred rattle [footnote: sacred rattle. this is generally a gourd, but is sometimes made of bark. small beads are put into it. the sioux suppose that this rattle, in the hands of one of their medicine men or women, possesses a certain virtue to charm away sickness or evil spirits. they shake it over a sick person, using a circular motion. it is never, however, put in requisition against the worst _spirits_ with which the red man has to contend.] in her hand, charming away the animal that has entered the body of the dahcotah to steal his strength. then, she is the great legend-teller of the dahcotahs. if there is a merry-making in the village, checkered cloud must be there, to call to the minds of the revellers the traditions that have been handed down from time immemorial. yesterday, wrapped in her blanket, she was seated on the st. peters, near a hole which she had cut in the ice, in order to spear the fish as they passed through the water; and to-day--but while i am writing of her, she approaches the house; even now, her shadow falls upon the room as she passes the window. i need not listen to her step, for her mocassined feet pass noiselessly through the hall. the door is slowly opened, and she is before me! how tall she is! and with what graceful dignity she offers her hand. seventy winters have passed over her, but the brightness of her eye is undimmed by time. her brow speaks of intellect--and the white hair that is parted over it falls unplaited on her shoulders. she folds her blanket round her and seats herself; she has a request to make, i know, but checkered cloud is not a beggar, she never asks aught but what she feels she has a right to claim. "long ago," she says, "the dahcotah owned lands that the white man now claims; the trees, the rivers, were all our own. but the great spirit has been angry with his children; he has taken their forests and their hunting grounds, and given them to others. "when i was young, i feared not wind nor storm. days have i wandered with the hunters of my tribe, that they might bring home many buffalo for food, and to make our wigwams. then, i cared not for cold and fatigue, for i was young and happy. but now i am old; my children have gone before me to the 'house of spirits'--the tender boughs have yielded to the first rough wind of autumn, while the parent tree has stood and borne the winter's storm. "my sons have fallen by the tomahawk of their enemies; my daughter sleeps under the foaming waters of the falls. "twenty winters were added to my life on that day. we had encamped at some distance above the falls, and our hunters had killed many deer. before we left our village to go on the hunt, we sacrificed to the spirit of the woods, and we prayed to the great spirit. we lifted up our hands and said, 'father, great spirit, help us to kill deer.' the arrows of our hunters never missed, and as we made ready for our return we were happy, for we knew we should not want for food. my daughter's heart was light, for haparm was with her, and she never was sad but when he was away. "just before we arrived at the falls, she became sick; her hands were burning hot, she refused to eat. as the canoe passed over the mississippi, she would fill her cup with its waters, to drink and throw over her brow. the medicine men were always at her side, but they said some evil spirit hated her, and prevented their spells from doing her good. "when we reached the falls, she was worse; the women left their canoes, and prepared to carry them and the rest of the baggage round the falls. "but what should we do with we-no-nah? the flush of fever was on her cheek; she did not know me when i spoke to her; but she kept her eyes fixed upon her lover. "'we will leave her in the canoe,' said her father; 'and with a line we can carry her gently over the rapids.' i was afraid, but with her brothers holding the line she must be safe. so i left my child in her canoe, and paddled with the others to the shore. "as we left her, she turned her eyes towards us, as if anxious to know what we were about to do. the men held the line steadily, and the canoe floated so gently that i began to feel less anxious--but as we approached the rapids, my heart beat quickly at the sound of the waters. carefully did her brothers hold the line, and i never moved my eyes from the canoe in which she lay. now the roaring of the waters grew louder, and as they hastened to the rocks over which they would fall they bore with them my child--i saw her raise herself in the canoe, i saw her long hair as it fell on her bosom--i saw no more! "my sons bore me in their arms to the rest of the party. the hunters had delayed their return that they might seek for the body of my child. her lover called to her, his voice could be heard above the sound of the waters. 'return to me, wenonah, i will never love maiden but you; did you not promise to light the fires in my wigwam?' he would have thrown himself after her, had not the young men prevented him. the body rests not in the cold waters; we found it and buried it, and her spirit calls to me in the silence of the night! her lover said he would not remain long on the earth; he turned from the dahcotah maidens as they smiled upon him. he died as a warrior should die! "the chippeways had watched for us, they longed to carry the scalp of a dahcotah home. they did so--but we were avenged. "our young men burst in upon them when they were sleeping; they struck them with their tomahawks, they tore their scalps reeking with blood from their heads. "we heard our warriors at the village as they returned from their war party; we knew by their joyful cries that they had avenged their friends. one by one they entered the village, bearing twenty scalps of the enemy. "only three of the dahcotahs had fallen. but who were the three? my sons, and he who was as dear as a son to me, the lover of my child. i fled from their cries of triumph--i longed to plunge the knife into my own heart. "i have lived on. but sorrow and cold and hunger have bowed my spirit; and my limbs are not as strong and active as they were in my youth. neither can i work with porcupine as i used to--for age and tears have dimmed my sight. i bring you venison and fish, will you not give me clothes to protect me from the winter's cold?" ah! checkered cloud--he was a prophet who named you. though the cloud has varied, now passing away, now returning blacker than before--though the cheering light of the sun has for a moment dispelled the gloom-- 'twas but for a moment! for it was sure to break in terrors over your head. your name is your history, your life has been a checkered cloud! but the storm of the day has yielded to the influence of the setting sun. the thunder has ceased to roll, the wind has died away, and the golden streaks that bound the horizon promise a brighter morning. so with checkered cloud, the storm and strife of the earth have ceased; the "battle of life" is fought, and she has conquered. for she hopes to meet the beloved of earth in the heaven of the dahcotahs. and who will say that our heaven will not be hers? the god of the dahcotahs is ours, though they, less happy than we, have not been taught to know him. christians! are you without blame? have you thought of the privations, the wants of those who once owned your country, and would own it still but for the strong hand? have you remembered that their souls are dear in his sight, who suffered for them, as well as for you? have you given bright gold that their children might be educated and redeemed from their slavery of soul? checkered cloud will die as she has lived, a believer in the religion of the dahcotahs. the traditions of her tribe are written on her heart. she worships a spirit in every forest tree, or every running stream. the features of the favored israelite are hers; she is perchance a daughter of their lost tribe. when she was young, she would have listened to the missionary as he told her of gethsemane and calvary. but age yields not like youth to new impressions; the one looks to the future, the other clings to the past. see! she has put by her pipe and is going, but she is coming oft again to talk to me of her people, that i may tell to my friends the bravery of the dahcotah warrior, and the beauty of the maiden! the legends of their rivers and sacred isles--the traditions of their rocks and hills! if i cannot, in recounting the wild stories of this prophetess of the forest, give her own striking words, i shall at least be faithful to the spirit of her recitals. i shall let indian life speak for itself; these true pictures of its course will tell its whole simple story better than any labored exposition of mine. here we may see, not the red man of the novel or the drama, but the red man as he appears to himself, and to those who live with him. his better characteristics will be found quite as numerous as ought to be expected under the circumstances; his faults and his sufferings should appeal to the hearts of those who hold the means of his salvation. no intelligent citizen of these united states can without blame forget the aborigines of his country. their wrongs cry to heaven; their souls will be required of us. to view them as brutes is an insult to him who made them and us. may this little work do something towards exciting an interest in a single tribe out of the many whose only hope is in the mercy of the white man! red earth; or, mocka-doota-win. "good road" is one of the dahcotah chiefs--he is fifty years old and has two wives, but these two have given a deal of trouble; although the chief probably thinks it of no importance whether his two wives fight all the time or not, so that they obey his orders. for what would be a calamity in domestic life to us, is an every day affair among the dahcotahs. good road's village is situated on the banks of the st. peter's about seven miles from fort snelling. and like other indian villages it abounds in variety more than anything else. in the teepee the farthest from us, right on the edge of the shore, there are three young men carousing. one is inclined to go to sleep, but the other two will not let him; their spirits are raised and excited by what has made him stupid. who would suppose they were human beings? see their bloodshot eyes; hear their fiendish laugh and horrid yells; probably before the revel is closed, one of the friends will have buried his knife in the other's heart. we will pass on to the next teepee. here we witness a scene almost as appalling. "iron arms," one of the most valiant warriors of the band, is stretched in the agonies of death. old spirit killer, the medicine man, is gesticulating by his side, and accompanying his motions with the most horrid noises. but all in vain; the spirit of "iron arms," the man of strength, is gone. the doctor says that his medicine was good, but that a prairie dog had entered into the body of the dahcotah, and he thought it had been a mud-hen. magnanimous doctor! all honor, that you can allow yourself in error. while the friends of the dead warrior are rending the air with their cries, we will find out what is going on in the next wigwam. what a contrast! "the whirlpool" is seated on the ground smoking; gazing as earnestly at the bright coals as if in them he could read the future or recall the past; and his young wife, whose face, now merry, now sad, bright with smiles at one moment, and lost in thought the next, gained for her the name of "the changing countenance," is hushing her child to sleep; but the expression of her features does not change now--as she looks on her child, a mother's deep and devoted love is pictured on her face. in another, "the dancing woman" is wrapped in her blanket pretending to go to sleep. in vain does "the flying cloud" play that monotonous courting tune on the flute. the maiden would not be his wife if he gave her all the trinkets in the world. she loves and is going to marry "iron lightning," who has gone to bring her--what? a brooch--a new blanket? no, a chippeway's scalp, that she may be the most graceful of those who dance around it. her mother is mending the mocassins of the old man who sleeps before the fire. and we might go round the village and find every family differently employed. they have no regular hours for eating or sleeping. in front of the teepees, young men are lying on the ground, lazily playing checkers, while their wives and sisters are cutting wood and engaged in laborious household duties. i said good road had two wives, and i would now observe that neither of them is younger than himself. but they are as jealous of each other as if they had just turned seventeen, and their lord and master were twenty instead of fifty. not a day passes that they do not quarrel, and fight too. they throw at each other whatever is most convenient, and sticks of wood are always at hand. and then, the sons of each wife take a part in the battle; they first fight for their mothers, and then for themselves--so that the chief must have been reduced to desperation long ago if it were not for his pipe and his philosophy. good road's second wife has chippeway blood in her veins. her mother was taken prisoner by the dahcotahs; they adopted her, and she became the wife of a dahcotah warrior. she loved her own people, and those who had adopted her too; and in course of time her daughter attained the honorable station of a chief's second wife. good road hates the chippeways, but he fell in love with one of their descendants, and married her. she is a good wife, and the white people have given her the name of "old bets." last summer "old bets" narrowly escaped with her life. the dahcotahs having nothing else to do, were amusing themselves by recalling all the chippeways had ever done to injure them; and those who were too lazy to go out on a war party, happily recollected that there was chippeway blood near them--no farther off than their chief's wigwam; and eight or ten braves vowed they would make an end of "old bets." but she heard of their threats, left the village for a time, and after the dahcotahs had gotten over their mania for shedding blood, she returned, and right glad was good road to see her. for she has an open, good humored countenance; the very reverse of that of the first wife, whose vinegar aspect would frighten away an army of small children. after "old bets" returned, good road could not conceal his satisfaction. his wife's trip had evidently improved her good looks, for the chief thought she was the handsomest squaw in the village. her children were always taunting the sons of the first wife, and so it went on, until at last good road said he would stand it no longer; he told his oldest wife to go--that he would support her no longer. and for her children, he told them the prairies were large; there were deer and other game--in short, he disinherited them--cut them off with their last meal. for the discarded wife, life had now but one hope. the only star that shone in the blackness of her heaven, was the undefined prospect of seeing her rival's blood flow. she would greatly have preferred taking her life herself; and as she left the wigwam of the chief, she grasped the handle of her knife--how quick her heart beat! it might be now or never. but there were too many around to protect old bets. the time would come--she would watch for her--she would tear her heart from her yet. the sons of the old hag did not leave the village; they would keep a watch on their father and his chippeway wife. they would not easily yield their right to the chieftainship. while they hunted, and smoked, and played at cards, they were ever on the look-out for revenge. chapter ii. "red earth" sits by the door of her father's teepee; while the village is alive with cheerfulness, she does not join in any of the amusements going on, but seems to be occupied with what is passing in her own mind. occasionally she throws a pebble from the shore far into the river, and the copper-colored children spring after it, as if the water were their own element, striving to get it before it sinks from their view. had she been attentive to what is passing around her, she would not have kept her seat, for "shining iron," the son of good road's second wife, approaches her; and she loves him too little to talk with him when it can be avoided. "why are you not helping the women to make the teepee, red earth?" said the warrior. "they are laughing while they sew the buffalo-skin together, and you are sitting silent and alone. why is it so? are you thinking of 'fiery wind?'" "there are enough women to make the teepee," replied red earth, "and i sit alone because i choose to do so. but if i am thinking of 'fiery wind' i do right--he is a great warrior!" "tell me if you love fiery wind?" said the young man, while his eyes flashed fire, and the veins in his temple swelled almost to bursting. "i do not love you," said the girl, "and that is enough. and you need never think i will become your wife; your spells cannot make me love you. [footnote: the sioux have great faith in spells. a lover will take gum, and after putting some medicine in it, will induce the girl of his choice to chew it, or put it in her way so that she will take it up of her own accord. it is a long time before an indian lover will take a refusal from the woman he has chosen for a wife.] where are fiery wind and his relations? driven from the wigwam of the chief by you and your chippeway mother. but they do not fear you--neither do i!" and red earth looked calmly at the angry face of her lover. for shining iron did love her, and he had loved her long. he had loaded her with presents, which she always refused; he had related his honors, his brave acts to her, but she turned a deaf ear to his words. he promised her he would always have venison in her teepee, and that he never would take another wife; she was the only woman he could ever love. but he might as well have talked to the winds. and he thought so himself, for, finding he could not gain the heart of the proud girl, he determined she should never be the wife of any other man, and he told her so. "you may marry fiery wind," said the angry lover, "but if you do, i will kill him." red earth heard, but did not reply to his threats; she feared not for herself, but she trembled at the prospect of danger to the man she loved. and while she turned the bracelets on her small wrists, the warrior left her to her own thoughts. they were far from being pleasant; she must warn her lover of the threats of his rival. for a while she almost determined she would not marry fiery wind, for then his life would be safe; but she would not break her promise. besides, it was hard for her to destroy all the air-built castles which she had built for her happy future. she knew shining iron's bravery, and she doubted not he would fulfil his promise; for a moment prudence suggested that she had better marry him to avoid his revenge. but she grasped the handle of her knife, as if she would plunge it into her own bosom for harboring the dark thought. never should she be unfaithful; when fiery wind returned she would tell him all, and then she would become his wife, and she felt that her own heart was true enough to guard him, her own arm strong enough to slay his enemy. * * * * * all women are wilful enough, but dahcotah women are particularly so. slaves as they are to their husbands, they lord it over each other, and it is only when they become grandmothers that they seem to feel their dependence, and in many instances yield implicit obedience to the wills of their grandchildren. they take great delight in watching over and instructing their children's children; giving them lessons in morality, [footnote: the idea is ridiculed by some, that an indian mother troubles herself about the morals of her children; but it is nevertheless true, that she talks to them, and, according to her own ideas of right and wrong, tries to instil good principles into their minds. the grandmothers take a great deal of care of their grandchildren.] and worldly wisdom. thus while red earth was making her determination, her old grandmother belonging to the village was acting upon hers. this old woman was a perfect virago--an "embodied storm." in her time she had cut off the hands and feet of some little chippeway children, and strung them, and worn them for a necklace. and she feasted yet at the pleasant recollections this honorable exploit induced. but so tender was she of the feelings of her own flesh and blood, that the thought of their suffering the slightest pain was death to her. her son ruled his household very well for a dahcotah. he had a number of young warriors and hunters growing up around him, and he sometimes got tired of their disturbances, and would use, not the rod but a stick of wood to some purpose. although it had the good effect of quelling the refractory spirits of the young, it invariably fired the soul of his aged mother. the old woman would cry and howl, and refuse to eat, for days; till, finding this had no effect upon her hard-hearted son, she told him she would do something that would make him sorry, the next time he struck one of his children. but the dutiful son paid no attention to her. he had always considered women as being inferior to dogs, and he would as soon have thought of giving up smoking, as of minding his mother's threats. but while red earth was thinking of her absent lover, two stars was beating his sons again--and when the maiden was left alone by shining iron after the warning he had given her, she was attracted by the cries of one of the old women of the village, who was struggling 'mid earth and heaven, while old and young were running to the spot, some to render assistance, others to see the fun. and glorious fun it was! the grandmother had almost hung herself--that is, she seriously intended to do it. but she evidently did not expect the operation to be so painful. when her son, in defiance of her tears and threats, commenced settling his household difficulties in his own way she took her head-strap,[footnote: the head-strap is made of buffalo skin. it is from eight to ten, or sometimes twenty-four feet long. the women fasten their heavy burdens to this strap, which goes around the forehead; the weight of the burden falls upon the head and back. this occasions the figures of the indian women to stoop, since they necessarily lean forward in order to preserve their balance.] went to a hill just above the village, and deliberately made her preparations for hanging, as coolly too as if she had been used to being hung for a long time. but when, after having doubled the strap four times to prevent its breaking, she found herself choking, her courage gave way--she yelled frightfully; and it was well that her son and others ran so fast, for they had well nigh been too late. as it was, they carried her into the teepee, where the medicine man took charge of her case; and she was quite well again in an hour or two. report says (but there is a sad amount of scandal in an indian village) that the son has never offended the mother since; so, like many a wilful woman, she has gained her point. red earth witnessed the cutting down of the old woman, and as she returned to her teepee, her quick ear warned her of coming footsteps. she lingered apart from the others, and soon she saw the eagle feathers of her warrior as he descended the hill towards the village. gladly would she have gone to meet him to welcome him home, but she knew that shining iron was watching her motions, and she bent her steps homeward. she was quite sure that it would not be long before he would seek her, and then she would tell him what had passed, and make arrangements for their course of conduct for the future. fiery wind was the nephew of good road, but he, like the sons, was in disgrace with the chief, and, like them, he had vowed vengeance against "old bets." chapter iii. the gun is now generally used among the dahcotahs as a weapon of warfare. but those bands in the neighborhood of fort snelling considered it as a necessary part of their war implements, before the distant bands were at all acquainted with its use. some time ago, one of the mun-da-wa-kan-tons gave a gun to a sisse-ton, who, proud of the gift, went out immediately to use it. on his return to his village he came up with a drove of buffaloes. his first impulse was to use his bow and arrow, but a moment's thought reminded him of the gift of his friend. he loaded the gun, saying at the same time to it, "now, the dahcotahs call you 'wah-kun' (supernatural), kill me the fattest cow in the drove." he waited a few moments to see his orders executed, but the gun was not "wah-kun" enough to fire by order alone. seeing that it did not go off, the sisse-ton flew into a rage and broke the gun into pieces. "i suppose," said he "that if a mun-da-wah-can-ton had told you to kill a buffalo, you would have done it, but you do not regard what a sisse-ton says." so he threw the pieces of the gun away, and found his bow and arrows of far more service. however naturally the usages of warfare may come to the indians, they are also made a part of their education. the children are taught that it is wicked to murder without a cause; but when offence has been given, they are in duty bound to retaliate. the day after the return of fiery wind, the boys of the village were to attack a hornet's nest. this is one of the ways of training their sons to warfare. one of the old warriors had seen a hornet's nest in the woods, and he returned to the village, and with the chief assembled all the boys in the village. the chief ordered the boys to take off all their clothes, and gave them each a gun. he then told them how brave their forefathers were--that they never feared pain or danger--and that they must prove themselves worthy sons of such ancestors. "one of these days you will be men, and then you will go on war parties and kill your enemies, and then you will be fit to join in the dog feast. be brave, and do not fear the sting of the hornet, for if you do, you will be cowards instead of warriors, and the braves will call you women and laugh at you." this was enough to animate the courage of the boys--some of them not more than five years old pushed ahead of their elder brothers, eager to show to their fathers, who accompanied them, how little they feared their enemies, as they termed the hornets. and formidable enemies they were too--for many of the little fellows returned sadly stung, with swollen limbs, and closed eyes; but they bore their wounds as well as brave men would have endured their pain on a battle-field. after leaving their village, they entered the woods farther from the banks of the river. the guide who had seen the nest led the way, and the miniature warriors trod as lightly as if there was danger of rousing a sleeping foe. at last the old man pointed to the nest, and without a moment's hesitation, the young dahcotahs attacked it. out flew the hornets in every direction. some of the little boys cried out with the pain from the stings of the hornets on their unprotected limbs--but the cries of shame! shame! from one of the old men soon recalled them to their duty, and they marched up again not a whit discomfited. good road cheered them on. "fight well, my warriors," said he; "you will carry many scalps home, you are brave men." it was not long before the nest was quite destroyed, and then the old men said they must take a list of the killed and wounded. the boys forced a loud laugh when they replied that there were no scalps taken by the enemy, but they could not deny that the list of the wounded was quite a long one. some of them limped, in spite of their efforts to walk upright, and one little fellow had to be assisted along by his father, for both eyes were closed; and, although stung in every direction and evidently suffering agony, the brave boy would not utter a complaint. when they approached the village, the young warriors formed into indian file, and entered as triumphantly as their fathers would have done, had they borne twenty chippeway scalps with them. the mothers first applauded the bravery of their sons; and then applied herbs to their swollen limbs, and the mimic war furnished a subject of amusement for the villages for the remainder of the day. chapter iv. it would be well for the dahcotahs if they only sought the lives of their enemies. but they are wasting in numbers far more by their internal dissensions than from other causes. murder is so common among them, that it is even less than a nine days' wonder; all that is thought necessary is to bury the dead, and then some relative must avenge his quarrel. red earth told her lover of the threat of shining iron, and the young man was thus put on his guard. the sons of good road's first wife were also told of the state of things, and they told fiery wind that they would take up his quarrel, glad of an opportunity to avenge their own and their mother's wrongs. it was in the month of april, or as the dahcotahs say in "the moon that geese lay," that red earth took her place by the side of her husband, thus asserting her right to be mistress of his wigwam. while she occupied herself with her many duties, she never for a moment forgot the threat of shining iron. but her cares and anxieties for her husband's safety were soon over. she had not long been a wife before her enemy lay a corpse; his life was a forfeit to his love for her, and red earth had a woman's heart. although she could but rejoice that the fears which had tormented her were now unnecessary, yet when she remembered how devotedly the dead warrior had loved her, how anxiously he had tried to please her, she could not but shed a few tears of sorrow for his death. but they were soon wiped away--not for the world would she have had her husband see them. the oldest sons of good road were true to their word--and the son of old bets was not the only subject for their vengeance. his sister was with him at the moment that they chose to accomplish their purpose; and when an indian commences to shed blood, there is no knowing how soon he will be satisfied. shining iron died instantly, but the sister's wounds were not fatal--she is slowly recovering. it was but yesterday that we visited the grave of the dead warrior. on a hill near the st. peters his body is buried. the indians have enclosed the grave, and there is a "wah-kun stone," to which they sacrifice, at his head. no one reposes near him. alone he lies, undisturbed by aught except the winds that sigh over him. the first flowers of spring are blooming on the spot where he played in childhood, and here, where he reposes, he often sat to mourn the unkindness of red earth, and vow vengeance on his successful rival. but he is not unwatched. his spirit is ever near, and perhaps he will again live on earth. [footnote: the sioux believe in the transmigration of souls. many of the indians near fort snelling say they have lived before on earth. the jugglers remember many incidents that occurred during some former residence on earth, and they will tell them to you with all the gravity imaginable.] his friends believe that he may hold communion with unk-ta-he,--that from that god he will learn the mysteries of the earth and water; and when he lives again in another form, he will instruct the dahcotahs in their religion, and be a great medicine man. good road is quite reconciled to his sons, for he says it was a brave deed to get rid of an enemy. in vain does old bets ask for vengeance on the murderers. good road reminds her that shining iron had made a threat, and it was not proper he should live; and the chief insisted more upon this, when he added that these children of her's were by a former husband, and it was natural his sons should resent their father's preference for them. so after all old bets doubts whether she, or the chief's first wife, has got the best of it; and as she dresses the wounds of her daughter, she wishes that the dahcotahs had killed her mother instead of adopting her--lamenting, too, that she should ever have attained to the honor of being good road's wife. wenona; or, the virgin's feast. never did the sun shine brighter than on a cold day in december, when the indians at "little crow's" village were preparing to go on a deer hunt. the mississippi was frozen, and the girls of the village had the day before enjoyed one of their favorite amusements--a ball-play on the ice. those who owned the bright cloths and calicoes which were hung up before their eyes, as an incentive to win the game, were still rejoicing over their treasures; while the disappointed ones were looking sullen, and muttering of partiality being shown to this one because she was beautiful, and to that, because she was the sister of the chief. "look at my head!" said harpstenah; "wenona knew that i was the swiftest runner in the band, and as i stooped to catch the ball she struck me a blow that stunned me, so that i could not run again." but the head was so ugly, and the face too, that there was no pity felt for her; those dirty, wrinkled features bore witness to her contempt for the cleansing qualities of water. her uncombed hair was hanging in masses about her ears and face, and her countenance expressed cruelty and passion. but harpstenah had nothing to avenge; when she was young she was passed by, as there was nothing in her face or disposition that could attract; and now in the winter of life she was so ugly and so desolate, so cross and so forlorn, that no one deemed her worthy even of a slight. but for all that, harpstenah could hate, and with all the intensity of her evil heart did she hate wenona, the beautiful sister of the chief. yesterday had been as bright as to-day, and grey eagle, the medicine man, had hung on a pole the prizes that were to be given to the party that succeeded in throwing the ball into a space marked off. the maidens of the village were all dressed in their gayest clothing, with ornaments of beads, bracelets, rings, and ribbons in profusion. they cared not half so much for the prizes, as they rejoiced at the opportunity of displaying their graceful persons. the old women were eager to commence the game, for they longed to possess the cloth for their leggins, and the calico for their "okendokendas." [footnote "okendokendas." this is the sioux word for calico. it is used as the name for a kind of short gown, which is worn by the sioux women, made generally of calico, sometimes of cloth.] the women, young and old, were divided into two parties; but as one party threw the ball towards the space marked off, the others threw it back again far over their heads, and then all ran back, each party endeavoring to reach it first, that they might succeed in placing the ball in the position which was to decide the game. but the ball is not thrown by the hand, each woman has a long stick with a circular frame at the end of it; this they call a bat stick, and, simple as it looks, it requires great skill to manage it. wenona was the swiftest runner of one party, and harpstenah, old and ugly as she was, the best of the other. how excited they are! the snow-covered hills, majestic and silent, look coldly enough upon their sport; but what care they? the prize will soon be won. the old medicine man cheered them on. "run fast, wenona! take care that harpstenah does not win the game. ho, harpstenah! if you and your leggins are old, you may have the cloth yet." now wenona's party is getting on bravely, but the ball has been caught and thrown back by the other party. but at last it is decided. in the struggle for the ball, harpstenah received a blow from an old squaw as dismal looking as herself, and wenona catches the ball and throws it into the appointed place. the game is ended, and the medicine man comes forward to distribute the prizes. the warriors have looked on, admiring those who were beautiful and graceful, and laughing at the ugly and awkward. but wenona cared little for the prizes. she was a chief's sister, and she was young and beautiful. the handsomest presents were given her, and she hardly looked at the portion of the prizes which fell to her lot. smarting with pain from the blow she had received, (and she spoke falsely when she said wenona had struck her,) stung with jealousy at the other party having won the game, harpstenah determined on revenge, "if i am old," she said, "i will live long enough to bring misery on her; ugly as i may be, i will humble the proud beauty. what do i eat? the worthless heads of birds are given to the old woman for whom nobody cares, but my food will be to see the eye of wenona fall beneath the laugh of scorn. i will revenge the wrongs of my life on her." commend me to a dahcotah woman's revenge! has she been slighted in love? blood must be shed; and if she is not able to accomplish the death of her rival, her own life will probably pay the forfeit. has disgrace or insult been heaped upon her? a life of eighty years is not long enough to bring down vengeance on the offender. so with harpstenah. her life had not been a blessing to herself--she would make it a curse to others. chapter ii. in the preparations for the deer hunt, the ball-play has been forgotten. the women are putting together what will be necessary for their comfort during their absence, and the men are examining their guns and bows and arrows. the young girls anticipate amusement and happiness, for they will assist their lovers to bring in the deer to the camp; and the jest and merry laugh, and the words of love are spoken too. the ball-play has been forgotten by all but harpstenah. but it is late in the afternoon; and as they do not start till the morning, something must be done to pass the long evening. "if this were full," said a young hunter, kicking at the same time an empty keg that had once contained whiskey, "if this were full, we would have a merry night of it." "yes," said grey iron, whose age seemed to have brought him wisdom, "the night would be merry, but where would you be the day after. did you not, after drinking that very whiskey, strike a white woman, for which you were taken to the fort by the soldiers, and kept as a prisoner?" the young man's look of mortification at this reproof did not save him from the contemptuous sneer of his companions, for all despise the dahcotah who has thus been punished. no act of bravery can wipe away his disgrace. but wenona sat pale and sad in her brother's wigwam. the bright and happy looks of yesterday were all gone. her sister-in-law has hushed her child to sleep, and she is resting from the fatigues of the day. several old men, friends of little crow's father, are sitting round the fire; one has fallen asleep, while the others talk of the wonderful powers of their sacred medicine. "why are you sad, wenona," said the chief, turning to her; "why should the eyes of a chief's sister be filled with tears, and her looks bent on the ground?" "you need not ask why i am not happy," said wenona: "red cloud brought presents to you yesterday; he laid them at the door of your wigwam. he wants to buy me, and you have received his gifts; why do you not return them? you know i do not love him." "red cloud is a great warrior," replied the chief; "he wears many feathers of honor; you must marry him." the girl wrapped herself in her blanket and lay down. for a time her sighs were heard--but at length sleep came to her relief, and her grief was forgotten in dreams. but morn has come and they are to make an early start. was ever such confusion? look at that old hag knocking the very senses out of her daughter's head because she is not ready! and the girl, in order to avoid the blows, stumbles over an unfortunate dog, who commences a horrible barking and whining, tempting all the dogs of the village to outbark and outwhine him. there goes "white buffalo" with his two wives, the first wife with the teepee on her back and her child on the top of it. no wonder she looks so cross, for the second wife walks leisurely on. now is her time, but let her beware! for white buffalo is thinking seriously of taking a third. but they are all off at last. mothers with children, and corn, and teepees, and children with dogs on their backs. they are all gone, and the village looks desolate and forsaken. chapter iii. the party encamped about twenty miles from the village. the women plant the poles of their teepees firmly in the ground and cover them with a buffalo skin. a fire is soon made in the centre and the corn put on to boil. their bread is kneaded and put in the ashes to bake, but flour is not very plenty among them. the next day parties were out in every direction; tracks of deer were seen in the snow, and the hunters followed them up. the beautiful animal flies in terror from the death which comes surer and swifter than her own light footsteps. the hunter's knife is soon upon her, and while warmth and even life are left, the skin is drawn off. after the fatigues of the day comes the long and pleasant evening. a bright fire burned in the wigwam of the chief, and many of the indians were smoking around it, but wenona was sad, and she took but little part in the laughter and merriment of the others. red cloud boasted of his bravery and his deeds of valor; even the old men listened to him with respect, for they knew that his name was a terror to his enemies. but wenona turned from him! she hated to hear the sound of his voice. the old men talked of the mighty giant of the dahcotahs, he who needed not to take his gun to kill the game he wanted; the glance of his eye would strike with death the deer, the buffalo, or even the bear. the song, the jest, the legend, by turns occupied them until they separated to sleep. but as the warriors stepped into the open air, why does the light of the moon fall upon faces pale with terror? "see!" said the chief, "how flash the mysterious lights! there is danger near, some dreadful calamity is threatening us." "we will shoot at them," said red cloud; "we will destroy their power." and the indians discharged their guns in quick succession towards the northern horizon, which was brilliantly illuminated with the aurora borealis; thus hoping to ward off coming danger. the brother and sister were left alone at the door of the teepee. the stern warrior's looks expressed superstitious terror, while the maiden's face was calm and fearless. "do you not fear the power of the woman who sits in the north, wenona? she shows those flashes of light to tell us of coming evil." "what should i fear," said wenona; "i, who will soon join my mother, my father, my sisters, in the land of spirits? listen to my words, my brother: there are but two of us; strife and disease have laid low the brave, the good, the beautiful; we are the last of our family; you will soon be alone. "before the leaves fell from the trees, as i sat on the banks of the mississippi, i saw the fairy of the water. the moon was rising, but it was not yet bright enough for me to see her figure distinctly. but i knew her voice; i had often heard it in my dreams. 'wenona,' she said, (and the waves were still that they might hear her words), 'wenona, the lands of the dahcotah are green and beautiful--but there are fairer prairies than those on earth. in that bright country the forest trees are ever green, and the waves of the river flow on unchilled by the breath of winter. you will not long be with the children of the earth. even now your sisters are calling you, and your mother is telling them that a few more months will bring you to their side!' "the words were true, my brother, but i knew not that your harshness would hasten my going. you say that i shall marry red cloud; sooner will i plunge my knife into my heart; sooner shall the waves of the mississippi roll over me. brother, you will soon be alone!" "speak not such words, my sister," said the chief; "it shall be as you will. i have not promised red cloud. i thought you would be happy if you were his wife, and you shall not be forced to marry him. but why should you think of death? you saw our braves as they shot at the lights in the north. they have frightened them away. look! they flash no more. go in, and sleep, and to-morrow i will tell red cloud that you love him not." and the cloudless moon shone on a happy face, and the bright stars, seemed more bright as wenona gazed upon them; but as she turned to enter the wigwam, one star was seen falling in the heavens, and the light that followed it was lost in the brightness of the others. and her dreams were not happy, for the fairy of the water haunted them. "even as that star, wenona, thou shalt pass from all that thou lovest on earth; but weep not, thy course is upward!" * * * * * the hunters were so successful that they returned to their village soon. the friends of wenona rejoiced in her happy looks, but to harpstenah they were bitterness and gall. the angry countenance of red cloud found an answering chord in her own heart. "ha!" said she to him, as he watched wenona and her lover talking together, "what has happened? did you not say you would marry the chief's sister--why then are you not with her? red cloud is a great warrior, why should he be sad because wenona loves him not? are there not maidens among the dahcotahs more beautiful than she? she never loved you; her brother, too, has treated you with contempt. listen to my words, red cloud; the virgin's feast is soon to be celebrated, and she will enter the ring for the last time. when she comes forward, tell her she is unworthy. is she not a disgrace to the band? has she not shamed a brave warrior? will you not be despised when another is preferred to you?" the words of the tempter are in his ear--madness and hatred are in his heart. "i said i would take her life, but my revenge will be deeper. wenona would die rather than be disgraced." and as he spoke harpstenah turned to leave him, for she saw that the poison had entered his soul. chapter iv. among the dahcotahs, women are not excluded from joining in their feasts or dances; they dance the scalp dance while the men sit round and sing, and they join in celebrating many of the customs of their tribe. but the virgin's feast has reference to the women alone; its object is not to celebrate the deeds of the warrior, but rather to put to the test the virtue of the maiden. notice was given among the indians that the virgin's feast was to be celebrated at little crow's village; the time was mentioned, and all who chose to attend were welcome to do so. the feast was prepared in the neighborhood of the village. the boiled corn and venison were put in wooden bowls, and the indians sat round, forming a ring. those who were to partake of the feast were dressed in their gayest apparel; their long hair plaited and falling over their shoulders. those who are conscious of error dare not approach the feast, for it is a part of the ceremony that they shall be exposed by any one present. neither rank nor beauty must interpose to prevent the punishment. nay, sometimes the power of innocence and virtue itself is not sufficient to guard the dahcotah maiden from disgrace. and was wenona unworthy? the white snow that covered the hills was not more pure than she. but red cloud cared not for that. she had refused to be the light of his wigwam, and thus was he avenged. wenona advanced with the maidens of the village. who can describe her terror and dismay when red cloud advances and leads her from the sacred ring? to whom shall the maiden turn for help? to her brother? his angry countenance speaks not of comfort. her friends? the smile of scorn is on their lips. her lover? he has left the feast. her determination is soon made; her form is seen as she flies to the woods. death is the refuge of the friendless and the wronged. but as night came on the relatives of wenona wondered that she did not return. they sought her, and they found her lifeless body; the knife was deep in her heart. she knew she was innocent, but what did that avail her? she was accused by a warrior, and who would believe her if she denied the charge? and why condemn her that she deprived herself of life, which she deemed worthless, when embittered by unmerited contempt. she knew not that god has said, "thou shall do no murder." the command had never sounded in her ears. she trusted to find a home in the house of spirits--she may have found a heaven in the mercy of god. the fever of the following summer spared neither age nor youth, and red cloud was its first victim. as the dying harpstenah saw his body carried out to be placed upon the scaffold--"he is dead," she cried, "and wenona was innocent! he hated her because she slighted him; i hated her because she was happy. he had his revenge, and i mine; but wenona was falsely accused, and i told him to do it!" and the eyes were closed--the voice was hushed in death. wenona was innocent; and when the virgin's feast shall be celebrated in her native village again, how will the maidens tremble as they approach the sacred ring! can they forget the fate of their beautiful companion? and when the breath of summer warms to life the prairie flowers--when the long grass shall wave under the scaffold where repose the mortal remains of the chief's sister--how often will the dahcotah maidens draw near to contrast the meanness, the treachery, the falsehood of red cloud, with the constancy, devotion, and firmness of wenona! the dahcotah convert. "tell me," said, hiatu-we-noken-chah, or 'woman of the night,' "the great spirit whom you have taught me to fear, why has he made the white woman rich and happy, and the dahcotah poor and miserable?" she spoke with bitterness when she remembered the years of sorrow that had made up the sum of her existence. but how with the missionary's wife? had her life been one bright dream--had her days been always full of gladness--her nights quiet and free from care? had she never longed for the time of repose, that darkness might cover her as with a mantle--and when 'sleep forsook the wretched,' did she not pray for the breaking of the day, that she might again forget all in the performance of the duties of her station? could it be that the creator had balanced the happiness of one portion of his children against the wretchedness of the rest? let her story answer. her home is now among the forests of the west. as a child she would tremble when she heard of the savage whose only happiness was in shedding the blood of his fellow creatures. the name of an "indian" when uttered by her nurse would check the boisterous gayety of the day or the tedious restlessness of the night. as she gathered flowers on the pleasant banks of the sciota, would it not have brought paleness to her cheek to have whispered her that not many years would pass over her, before she would be far away from the scenes of her youth? and as she uttered the marriage vow, how little did she think that soon would her broken spirit devote time, energies, life, to the good of others; as an act of duty and, but for the faith of the christian, of despair. for several years she only wept with others when they sorrowed; fair children followed her footsteps, and it was happiness to guide their voices, as they, like the morning stars, sang together; or to listen to their evening prayer as they folded their hands in childlike devotion ere they slept. and when the father returned from beside the bed of death, where his skill could no longer alleviate the parting agonies of the sufferer: how would he hasten to look upon the happy faces of his children, in order to forget the scene he had just witnessed. but, man of god as he was, there was not always peace in his soul; yet none could see that he had cause for care. he was followed by the blessings of those who were ready to perish. he essayed to make the sinner repent, and to turn the thoughts of the dying to him who suffered death on the cross. but for months the voice of the spirit spake to his heart; he could not forget the words--"go to the wretched dahcotahs, their bodies are suffering, and their souls, immortal like thine, are perishing. soothe their temporal cares, and more, tell them the triumphs of the redeemer's love." but it was hard to give up friends, and all the comforts with which he was surrounded: to subject his wife to the hardships of a life in the wilderness, to deprive his children of the advantages of education and good influences, and instead--to show them life as it is with those who know not god. but the voice said, "remember the dahcotahs." vainly did he struggle with the conflict of duty against inclination. the time has come when the parents must weep for themselves. no longer do the feet of their children tread among the flowers; fever has paralyzed their strength, and vainly does the mother call upon the child, whose eyes wander in delirium, who knows not her voice from a stranger's. nor does the destroyer depart when one has sunk into a sleep from which there is no awakening until the morn of the resurrection. he claims another, and who shall resist that claim! as the father looks upon the still forms of his children, as he sees the compressed lips, the closed eyes of the beings who were but a few days ago full of life and happiness, the iron enters his soul; but as the christian remembers who has afflicted him, his spirit rises above his sorrow. nor is there now any obstacle between him and the path of duty. the one child that remains must be put in charge of those who will care for her, and he will go where god directs. but will the mother give up the last of her children? it matters not now where she lives, but she must part with husband or child! self has no part in her schemes; secure in her trust in god she yields up her child to her friend, and listens not to the suggestions of those who would induce her to remain where she would still enjoy the comforts of life. nothing should separate her from her husband. "entreat me not to leave thee; where thou goest i will go, where thou diest i will die, and there will i be buried." and as the dahcotah woman inquires of the justice of god, the faces of her children rise up before her--first in health, with bright eyes and lips parted with smiles, and then as she last saw them--their hands white to transparency, the hue of death upon their features; the shrouds, the little coffins, the cold lips, as she pressed them for the last time. the dahcotah looked in astonishment at the grief which for a few moments overcame the usual calmness of her kind friend; and as she wondered why, like her, she should shed bitter tears, she heard herself thus addressed-- "do not think that you alone have been unhappy. god afflicts all his children. there is not a spot on the earth which is secure from sorrow. have i not told you why? this world is not your home or mine. soon will our bodies lie down in the earth--and we would forget this, if we were always happy. "and you should not complain though your sorrows have been great. do not forget the crown of thorns which pressed the brow of the saviour, the cruel nails that pierced his hands and feet, the desertion of his friends, his fear that god his father had forsaken him. and remember that after death the power of those who hated him ceased; the grave received but could not keep his body. he rose from the dead, and went to heaven, where he has prepared a place for all who love him; for me and mine, i trust, and for you too, if you are careful to please him by serving him yourself, and by endeavoring to induce your friends to give up their foolish and wicked superstitions, and to worship the true god who made all things." chapter ii. the dahcotahs believe in the existence of a great spirit, but they have very confused ideas of his attributes. those who have lived near the missionaries, say that the great spirit lived forever, but their own minds would never have conceived such an idea. some say that the great spirit has a wife. they say that this being created all things but thunder and wild rice; and that he gave the earth and all animals to them, and that their feasts and customs were the laws by which they are to be governed. but they do not fear the anger of this deity after death. thunder is said to be a large bird; the name that they give to thunder is the generic term for all animals that fly. near the source of the st. peters is a place called thunder-tracks--where the footprints of the thunder-bird are seen in the rocks, twenty-five miles apart. the dahcotahs believe in an evil spirit as well as a good, but they do not consider these spirits as opposed to each other; they do not think that they are tempted to do wrong by this evil spirit; their own hearts are bad. it would be impossible to put any limit to the number of spirits in whom the dahcotahs believe; every object in nature is full of them. they attribute death as much to the power of these subordinate spirits as to the great spirit; but most frequently they suppose death to have been occasioned by a spell having been cast upon them by some enemy. the sun and moon are worshipped as emblems of their deity. sacrifice is a religious ceremony among them; but no missionary has yet been able to find any reference to the one great atonement made for sin; none of their customs or traditions authorize any such connection. they sacrifice to all the spirits; but they have a stone, painted red, which they call grandfather, and on or near this, they place their most valuable articles, their buffalo robes, dogs, and even horses; and on one occasion a father killed a child as a kind of sacrifice. they frequently inflict severe bruises or cuts upon their bodies, thinking thus to propitiate their gods. the belief in an evil spirit is said by some not to be a part of the religion of the dahcotahs. they perhaps obtained this idea from the whites. they have a far greater fear of the spirits of the dead, especially those whom they have offended, than of wahkon-tun-kah, the great spirit. * * * * * one of the punishments they most dread is that of the body of an animal entering theirs to make them sick. some of the medicine men, the priests, and the doctors of the dahcotahs, seem to have an idea of the immortality of the soul but intercourse with the whites may have originated this. they know nothing of the resurrection. they have no custom among them that indicates the belief that man's heart should be holy. the faith in spirits, dreams, and charms, the fear that some enemy, earthly or spiritual, may be secretly working their destruction by a spell, is as much a part of their creed, as the existence of the great spirit. a good dream will raise their hopes of success in whatever they may be undertaking to the highest pitch; a bad one will make them despair of accomplishing it. their religion is a superstition, including as few elements of truth and reason as perhaps any other of which the particulars are known. they worship they "know not what," and this from the lowest motives. when they go out to hunt, or on a war party, they pray to the great spirit--"father, help us to kill the buffalo." "let us soon see deer"--or, "great spirit help us to kill our enemies." they have no hymns of praise to their deity; they fast occasionally at the time of their dances. when they dance in honor of the sun, they refrain from eating for two days. the dahcotahs do not worship the work of their hands; but they consider every object that the great spirit has made, from the highest mountain to the smallest stone, as worthy of their idolatry. they have a vague idea of a future state; many have dreamed of it. some of their medicine men pretend to have had revelations from bears and other animals; and they thus learned that their future existence would be but a continuation of this. they will go on long hunts and kill many buffalo; bright fires will burn in their wigwams as they talk through the long winter's night of the traditions of their ancients; their women are to tan deer-skin for their mocassins, while their young children learn to be brave warriors by attacking and destroying wasps' or hornets' nests; they will celebrate the dog feast to show how brave they are, and sing in triumph as they dance round the scalps of their enemies. such is the heaven of the dahcotahs! almost every indian has the image of an animal or bird tattooed on his breast or arm, which can charm away an evil spirit, or prevent his enemy from bringing trouble or death upon him by a secret shot. the power of life rests with mortals, especially with their medicine men; they believe that if an enemy be shooting secretly at them, a spell or charm must be put in requisition to counteract their power. the medicine men or women, who are initiated into the secrets of their wonderful medicines, (which secret is as sacred with them as free-masonry is to its members) give the feast which they call the medicine feast. their medicine men, who profess to administer to the affairs of soul and body are nothing more than jugglers, and are the worst men of the tribe: yet from fear alone they claim the entire respect of the community. there are numerous clans among the dahcotahs each using a different medicine, and no one knows what this medicine is but those who are initiated into the mysteries of the medicine dance, whose celebration is attended with the utmost ceremony. a dahcotah would die before he would divulge the secret of his clan. all the different clans unite at the great medicine feast. and from such errors as these must the dahcotah turn if he would be a christian! and the heart of the missionary would faint within him at the work which is before him, did he not remember who has said "lo, i am with you always!" and it was long before the indian woman could give up the creed of her nation. the marks of the wounds in her face and arms will to the grave bear witness of her belief in the faith of her fathers, which influenced her in youth. yet the subduing of her passions, the quiet performance of her duties, the neatness of her person, and the order of her house, tell of the influence of a better faith, which sanctifies the sorrows of this life, and rejoices her with the hope of another and a better state of existence. but such instances are rare. these people have resisted as encroachments upon their rights the efforts that have been made for their instruction. kindness and patience, however, have accomplished much, and during the last year they have, in several instances, expressed a desire for the aid and instructions of missionaries. they seem to wish them to live among them; though formerly the lives of those who felt it their duty to remain were in constant peril. they depend more, too, upon what the ground yields them for food, and have sought for assistance in ploughing it. there are four schools sustained by the dahcotah mission; in all there are about one hundred and seventy children; the average attendance about sixty. the missionaries feel that they have accomplished something, and they are encouraged to hope for still more. they have induced many of the dahcotahs to be more temperate; and although few, comparatively, attend worship at the several stations, yet of those few some exhibit hopeful signs of conversion. there are five mission stations among the dahcotahs; at "lac qui parle," on the st. peter's river, in sight of the beautiful lake from which the station takes its name; at "travers des sioux" about eighty miles from fort snelling; at xapedun, oak-grove, and kapoja, the last three being within a few miles of fort snelling. there are many who think that the efforts of those engaged in instructing the dahcotahs are thrown away. they cannot conceive why men of education, talent, and piety, should waste their time and attainments upon a people who cannot appreciate their efforts. if the missionaries reasoned on worldly principles, they would doubtless think so too; but they devote the energies of soul and body to him who made them for his own service. they are pioneers in religion; they show the path that others will walk in far more easily at some future day; they undertake what others will carry on,--what god himself will accomplish. they have willingly given up the advantages of this life, to preach the gospel to the degraded dahcotahs. they are translating the bible into sioux; many of the books are translated, and to their exertions it is owing that the praise of god has been sung by the children of the forest in their own language. chapter iii. however absurd may be the religion of the dahcotahs, they are zealous in their devotion to it. nothing is allowed to interfere with it. are their women planting corn, which is to be in a great measure depended upon for food during the next winter? whatever be the consequences, they stop to celebrate a dance or a feast, either of which is a part of their religion. how many christians satisfy their consciences by devoting one day of the week to god, feeling themselves thus justified in devoting the other six entirely to the world! but it is altogether different with the dahcotahs, every act of their life is influenced by their religion, such as it is. they believe they are a great people, that their country is unrivalled in beauty, their religion without fault. many of the dahcotahs, now living near fort snelling, say that they have lived on the earth before in some region far distant, that they died, and for a time their spirits wandered through the world seeking the most beautiful and delightful country to live in, and that after examining all parts of, the earth they fixed upon the country of the dahcotahs. in fact, dreams, spells and superstitious fears, constitute a large part of the belief of the dahcotahs. but of all their superstitious notions the most curious is the one which occasions the dance called ho-saw-kah-u-tap-pe, or fish dance, where the fish is eaten raw. some days since, an indian who lives at shah-co-pee's village dreamed of seeing a cormorant, a bird which feeds on fish. he was very much alarmed, and directed his friend to go out and catch a fish, and to bring the first one he caught to him. the indian did so, and the fish, which was a large pike, was painted with blue clay. preparations were immediately made to celebrate the fish dance, in order to ward off any danger of which the dream might have been the omen. a circle was formed of brush, on one side of which the indians pitched a wigwam. the war implements were then brought inside the ring, and a pole stuck up in the centre, with the raw fish, painted blue, hung upon it. the men then enter the ring, almost naked; their bodies painted black, excepting the breast and arms, which are varied in color according to the fancy of each individual. inside the ring is a bush for each dancer; in each bush a nest, made to resemble a cormorant's nest; and outside the ring is an indian metamorphosed for the occasion into a wolf--that is, he has the skin of a wolf drawn over him, and hoops fixed to his hands to enable him to run easier on all fours; and in order to sustain the character which he has assumed, he remains outside, lurking about for food. all being ready, the medicine men inside the wigwam commence beating a drum and singing. this is the signal for all the cormorants (indians), inside the ring, to commence quacking and dancing and using their arms in imitation of wings, keeping up a continual flapping. thus for some time they dance up to and around the fish--when the bravest among them will snap at the fish, and if he have good teeth will probably bite off a piece, if not, he will slip his hold and flap off again. another will try his luck at this delicious food, and so they continue, until they have made a beginning in the way of eating the fish. then each cormorant flaps up and takes a bite, and then flaps off to his nest, in which the piece of fish is concealed, for fear the wolves may get it. after a while, the wolf is seen emerging from his retreat, painted so hideously as to frighten away the indian children. the cormorants perceive the approach of the wolf, and a general quacking and flapping takes place, each one rushing to his nest to secure his food. this food each cormorant seizes and tries to swallow, flapping his wings and stretching out his neck as a young bird will when fed by its mother. after the most strenuous exertions they succeed in swallowing the raw fish. while this is going on, the wolf seizes the opportunity to make a snap at the remainder of the fish, seizes it with his teeth, and makes his way out of the ring, as fast as he can, on all fours. the whole of the fish, bones and all, must be swallowed; not the smallest portion of it can be left, and the fish must only be touched by the mouth--never with the hands. this dance is performed by the men alone--their war implements must be sacred from the touch of women. such scenes are witnessed every day at the dahcotah villages. the missionary sighs as he sees how determined is their belief in such a religion. is it not a source of rejoicing to be the means of turning one fellow-creature from a faith like this? a few years ago and every dahcotah woman reverenced the fish-dance as holy and sacred--even too sacred for her to take a part in it. she believed the medicine women could foretell future events; and, with an injustice hardly to be accounted for, she would tell you it was lawful to beat a girl as much as you chose, but a sin to strike a boy! she gloried in dancing the scalp dance--aye, even exulted at the idea of taking the life of an enemy herself. but there are instances in which these things are all laid aside beneath the light of christianity; instances in which the poor dahcotah woman sees the folly, the wickedness of her former faith; blesses god who inclined the missionary to leave his home and take up his abode in the country of the savage; and sings to the praise of god in her own tongue as she sits by the door of her wigwam. she smiles as she tells you that her "face is dark, but that she hopes her heart has been changed; and that she will one day sing in heaven, where the voices of the white people and of the converted dahcotahs, will mingle in a song of love to him 'who died for the whole world.'" wabashaw. chapter i. wabashaw, (or the leaf,) is the name of one of the dahcotah chiefs. his village is on the mississippi river, , miles from its mouth. the teepees are pitched quite near the shore, and the many bluffs that rise behind them seem to be their perpetual guards. the present chief is about thirty-five years old--as yet he has done not much to give him a reputation above the dahcotahs about him. but his father was a man whose life and character were such as to influence his people to a great degree. wabashaw the elder, (for the son inherits his father's name,) is said by the dahcotahs to have been the first chief in their tribe. many years ago the english claimed authority over the dahcotahs, and an english traveller having been murdered by some dahcotahs of the band of which wabashaw was a warrior, the english claimed hostages to be given up until the murderer could be found. the affairs of the nation were settled then by men who, having more mind than the others, naturally influenced their inferiors. their bravest men, their war chief too, no doubt exercised a control over the rest. wabashaw was one of the hostages given up in consequence of the murder, and the governor of canada required that these dahcotahs should leave the forests of the west, and remain for a time as prisoners in canada. little as is the regard for the feelings of the savage now, there was still less then. wabashaw often spoke of the ill treatment he received on his journey. it was bad enough to be a prisoner, and to be leaving home; it was far worse to be struck, for the amusement of idle men and children--to have the war eagle's feather rudely torn from his head to be trampled upon--to have the ornaments, even the pipes of the nation, taken away, and destroyed before his eyes. but such insults often occurred during their journey, and the prisoners were even fettered when at last they reached quebec. here for a long time they sighed to breathe the invigorating air of the prairies; to chase the buffalo; to celebrate the war dance. but when should they join again in the ceremonies of their tribe? when? alas! they could not even ask their jailer when; or if they had, he would only have laughed at the strange dialect that he could not comprehend. but the dahcotahs bore with patience their unmerited confinement, and wabashaw excelled them all. his eye was not as bright as when he left home, and there was an unusual weakness in his limbs--but never should his enemies know that he suffered. and when those high in authority visited the prisoners, the haughty dignity of wabashaw made them feel that the dahcotah warrior was a man to be respected. but freedom came at last. the murderers were given up; and an interpreter in the prison told wabashaw that he was no longer a prisoner; that he would soon again see the father of many waters; and that more, he had been made by the english a chief, the first chief of the dahcotahs. it was well nigh too late for wabashaw. his limbs were thin, and his strength had failed for want of the fresh air of his native hills. little did the prisoners care to look around as they retraced their steps. they knew they were going home. but when the waters of the mississippi again shone before them, when the well-known bluffs met their eager gaze; when the bending river gave to view their native village, then, indeed, did the new-made chief cast around him the "quiet of a loving eye." then, too, did he realize what he had suffered. he strained his sight--for perhaps his wife might have wearied of waiting for him--perhaps she had gone to the land of spirits, hoping to meet him there. his children too--the young warriors, who were wont to follow him and listen to his voice, would they welcome him home? as he approached the village a cloud had come between him and the sun. he could see many upon the shore, but who were they? the canoe swept over the waters, keeping time to the thoughts of those who were wanderers no longer. as they neared the shore, the cloud passed away and the brightness of the setting sun revealed the faces of their friends; their cries of joy rent the air--to the husband, the son, the brother, they spoke a welcome home! wabashaw, by the command of the english governor, was acknowledged by the dahcotahs their first chief; and his influence was unbounded. every band has a chief, and the honor descends from father to son; but there has never been one more honored and respected than wabashaw. chapter ii. wabashaw's village is sometimes called keusca. this word signifies to break through, or set aside; it was given in consequence of an incident which occurred some time ago, in the village. "sacred wind" was a daughter of one of the most powerful families among the dahcotahs; for although a chief lives as the meanest of his band, still there is a great difference among the families. the number of a family constitutes its importance; where a family is small, a member of it can be injured with little fear of retaliation; but in a large family there are sure to be found some who will not let an insult pass without revenge. sacred wind's father was living; a stalwart old warrior, slightly bent with the weight of years. though his face was literally seamed with wrinkles, he could endure fatigue, or face danger, with the youngest and hardiest of the band. her mother, a fearfully ugly old creature, still mended mocassins and scolded; bidding fair to keep up both trades for years to come. then there were tall brothers, braving hardships and danger, as if a dahcotah was only born to be scalped, or to scalp; uncles, cousins, too, there were, in abundance, so that sacred wind did belong to a powerful family. now, among the dahcotahs, a cousin is looked upon as a brother; a girl would as soon think of marrying her grandfather, as a cousin. i mean an ordinary girl, but sacred wind was not of that stamp; she was destined to be a heroine. she had many lovers, who wore themselves out playing the flute, to as little purpose as they braided their hair, and painted their faces. sacred wind did not love one of them. her mother, was always trying to induce her to accept some one of her lovers, urging the advantages of each match; but it would not do. the girl was eighteen years old, and not yet a wife; though most of the dahcotah women are mothers long before that. her friends could not imagine why she did not marry. they were wearied with arguing with her; but not one of them ever suspected the cause of her seeming coldness of heart. her grandmother was particularly officious. she could not do as sacred wind wished her,--attend to her own affairs, for she had none to attend to; and grandmothers, among the sioux, are as loving and devoted as they are among white people; consequently, the old lady beset the unfortunate girl, day and night, about her obstinacy. "why are you not now the mother of warriors," she said, "and besides, who will kill game for you when you are old? the 'bear,' has been to the traders; he has bought many things, which he offers your parents for you; marry him and then you will make your old grandmother happy." "i will kill myself," she replied, "if you ask me to marry the bear. have you forgotten the maiden's rock? i there are more high rocks than one on the banks of the mississippi, and my heart is as strong as wenona's. if you torment me so, to marry the bear, i will do as she did--in the house of spirits i shall have no more trouble." this threat silenced the grandmother for the time. but a young girl who had been sitting with them, and listening to the conversation, rose to go out; and as she passed sacred wind, she whispered in her ear, "tell her why you will not marry the bear; tell her that sacred wind loves her cousin; and that last night she promised him she never would marry any one but him." had she been struck to the earth she could not have been paler. she thought her secret was hid in her own heart. she had tried to cease thinking of "the shield;" keeping away from him, dreading to find true what she only suspected. she did not dare acknowledge even to herself that she loved a cousin. but when the shield gave her his handsomest trinkets; when he followed her when she left her laughing and noisy companions to sit beside the still waters--when he told her that she was the most beautiful girl among the dahcotahs--when he whispered her that he loved her dearly; and would marry her in spite of mothers, grandmothers, customs and religion too--then she found that her cousin was dearer to her than all the world--that she would gladly die with him--she could never live without him. but still, she would not promise to marry him. what would her friends say? and the spirits of the dead would torment her, for infringing upon the sacred customs of her tribe. the shield used many arguments, but all in vain. she told him she was afraid to marry him, but that she would never marry any one else. sooner should the waves cease to beat against the shores of the spirit lakes, than she forget to think of him. but this did not satisfy her cousin. he was determined she should be his wife; he trusted to time and his irresistible person to overcome her fears. the shield's name was given to him by his father's friends. shields were formerly used by the sioux; and the eyanktons and sissetons still use them. they are made of buffalo skin, of a circular form; and are used as a protection against the arrows of their enemies. "you need not fear your family, sacred wind," said her cousin, "nor the medicine men, nor the spirits of the dead. we will go to one of the villages, and when we are married, we will come back. let them be angry, i will stand between you and them, even as my father's shield did between him and the foe that sought his life." but she was firm, and promised nothing more than that she would not marry the bear, or any one else; and they returned to her father's teepee, little thinking that any one had overheard their conversation. but the "swan" had heard every word of it. she loved the shield, and she had seen him follow his cousin. after hearing enough to know that her case was a hopeless one, she made up her mind to make sacred wind pay dearly for the love which she herself could not obtain. she did not at once tell the news. she wanted to amuse herself with her victim before she destroyed her; and she had hardly yet made up her mind as to the way which she would take to inform the family of sacred wind of the secret she had found out. but she could not resist the temptation of whispering to sacred wind her knowledge of the true reason why she would not marry the bear. this was the first blow, and it struck to the heart; it made a wound which was long kept open by the watchful eye of jealousy. the grandmother, however, did not hear the remark; if she had she would not have sat still smoking--not she! she would have trembled with rage that a dahcotah maiden, and her grandchild, should be guilty of the enormous crime of loving a cousin. an eruption of vesuvius would have given but a faint idea of her fury. most fortunately for herself, the venerable old medicine woman died a few days after. had she lived to know of the fatal passion of her granddaughter, she would have longed to seize the thunderbolts of jupiter (if she had been aware of their existence) to hurl at the offenders; or like niobe, have wept herself to stone. indeed the cause of her death showed that she could not bear contradiction. there was a war party formed to attack the chippeways, and the "eagle that screams as she flies," (for that was the name of sacred wind's grandmother) wanted to go along. she wished to mutilate the bodies after they were scalped. yes, though near ninety years old, she would go through all the fatigues of a march of three hundred miles, and think it nothing, if she could be repaid by tearing the heart from one chippeway child. there were, however, two old squaws who had applied first, and the screaming eagle was rejected. there were no bounds to her passion. she attempted to hang herself and was cut down; she made the village resound with her lamentations; she called upon all the spirits of the lakes, rivers, and prairies, to torment the war party; nothing would pacify her. two days after the war party left, the eagle that screams as she flies expired, in a fit of rage! when the war-party returned, the shield was the observed of all observers; he had taken two scalps. sacred wind sighed to think he was her cousin. how could she help loving the warrior who had returned the bravest in the battle? the swan saw that she loved in vain. she knew that she loved the shield more in absence; why then hope that he would forget sacred wind when he saw her no more? when she saw him enter the village, her heart beat fast with emotion; she pressed her hand upon it, but could not still its tumult. "he has come," she said to herself, "but will his eye seek mine? will he tell _me_ that the time has been long since he saw me woman he loved?" she follows his footsteps--she watches his every glance, as he meets his relations. alas! for the swan, the wounded bird feels not so acutely the arrow that pierces, as she that look of recognition between the cousins! but the unhappy girl was roused from a sense of her griefs, to a recollection of her wrongs. with all the impetuosity of a loving heart, she thought she had a right to the affections of the shield. as the water reflected her features, so should his heart give back the devoted love of hers. but while she lived, she was determined to bring sorrow upon her rival; she would not "sing in dying." that very evening did she repeat to the family of sacred wind the conversation she had overheard, adding that the love of the cousins was the true cause of sacred wind's refusing to marry. time would fail me to tell of the consequent sufferings of sacred wind. she was scolded and watched, shamed, and even beaten. the medicine men threatened her with all their powers; no punishment was severe enough for the dahcotah who would thus transgress the laws of their nation. the shield was proof against the machinations of his enemies, for he was a medicine man, and could counteract all the spells that were exerted against him. sacred wind bore everything in patience but the sight of the bear. she had been bought and sold, over and over again; and the fear of her killing herself was the only reason why her friends did not force her to marry. one evening she was missing, and the cries of her mother broke upon the silence of night; canoes were flying across the water; friends were wandering in the woods, all seeking the body of the girl. but she was not to be found in the river, or in the woods. sacred wind was not dead, she was only married. she was safe in the next village, telling the shield how much she loved him, and how cordially she hated the bear; and although she trembled when she spoke of the medicine men, her husband only laughed at her fears, telling her, that now that she was his wife, she need fear nothing. but where was the swan? her friends were assisting, in the search for sacred wind. the father had forgotten his child, the brother his sister. and the mother, who would have first missed her, had gone long ago, to the land of spirits. the swan had known of the flight of the lovers--she watched them as their canoe passed away, until it became a speck in the distance, and in another moment the waters closed over her. thus were strangely blended marriage and death. the swan feared not to take her own life. sacred wind, with a nobler courage, a more devoted love, broke through the customs of her nation, laid aside the superstitions of the tribe, and has thus identified her courage with the name of her native village. "the dahcotah bride." the valley of the upper mississippi presents many attractions to the reflecting mind, apart from the admiration excited by its natural beauty. it is at once an old country and a new--the home of a people who are rapidly passing away--and of a nation whose strength is ever advancing. the white man treads upon the footsteps of the dahcotah--the war dance of the warrior gives place to the march of civilization--and the saw-mill is heard where but a few years ago were sung the deeds of the dahcotah braves. years ago, the dahcotah hunted where the mississippi takes its rise--the tribe claiming the country as far south as st. louis. but difficulties with the neighboring tribes have diminished their numbers and driven them farther north and west; the white people have needed their lands, and their course is onward. how will it end? will this powerful tribe cease to be a nation on the earth? will their mysterious origin never be ascertained? and must their religion and superstitions, their customs and feasts pass away from memory as if they had never been? who can look upon them without interest? hardly the philosopher--surely not the christian. the image of god is defaced in the hearts of the savage. cain-like does the child of the forest put forth his hand and stain it with a brother's blood. but are there no deeds of darkness done in our own favored land? but the country of the dahcotah,--let it be new to those who fly at the beckon of gain--who would speculate in the blood of their fellow-creatures, who for gold would, aye do, sell their own souls,--it is an old country to me. what say the boundless prairies? how many generations have roamed over them? when did the buffalo first yield to the arrow of the hunter? and look at the worn bases of the rocks that are washed by the father of waters. hear the dahcotah maiden as she tells of the lover's leap--and the warrior as he boasts of the victories of his forefathers over his enemies, long, long before the hated white man had intruded upon their lands, or taught them the fatal secret of intoxicating drink. the dahcotahs feel their own weakness--they know they cannot contend with the power of the white man. yet there are times when the passion and vehemence of the warriors in the neighborhood of fort snelling can hardly be brought to yield to the necessity of control; and were there a possibility of success, how soon would the pipe of peace be thrown aside, and the yell and whoop of war be heard instead! and who would blame them? has not the blood of our bravest and best been poured out like water for a small portion of a country--when the whole could never make up for the loss sustained by one desolate widow or fatherless child? the sky was without a cloud when the sun rose on the mississippi. the morning mists passed slowly away as if they loved to linger round the hills. pilot knob rose above them, proud to be the burial place of her warrior children, while on the opposite side of the mine soto [footnote: mine soto, or whitish water, the name that the sioux give to the st. peter's river. the mud or clay in the water has a whitish look.] the frowning walls of fort snelling; told of the power of their enemies. not a breath disturbed the repose of nature, till the voice of the song birds rose in harmony singing the praise of the creator. but a few hours have passed away, and how changed the scene. numbers of canoes are seen rapidly passing over the waters, and the angry savages that spring from them as hastily ascending the hill. from the gates of the fort, hundreds of indians are seen collecting from every direction, and all approaching the house of the interpreter. we will follow them. few have witnessed so wild a scene. the house of the interpreter employed by government is near the fort, and all around it were assembled the excited indians. in front of the house is a piazza, and on it lay the body of a young dahcotah; his black hair plaited, and falling over his swarthy face. the closed eye and compressed lips proclaimed the presence of death. life had but recently yielded to the sway of the stern conqueror. a few hours ago beloved hail had eaten and drank on the very spot where his body now reposed. bending over his head is his wife; tears fall like rain from her eyes; and as grief has again overcome her efforts at composure, see how she plunges her knife into her arm: and as the warm blood flows from the wound calls upon the husband of her youth! "my son! my son!" bursts from the lips of his aged mother, who weeps at his feet; while her bleeding limbs bear witness to the wounds which she had inflicted upon herself in the agony of her soul. nor are these the only mourners. a crowd of friends are weeping round his body. but the mother has turned to the warriors as they press through the crowd; tears enough have been shed, it is time to think of revenge. "look at your friend," she says, "look how heavily lies the strong arm, and see, he is still, though his wife and aged mother call upon him. who has done this? who has killed the brave warrior? bring me the murderer, that i may cut him on pieces." it needed not to call upon the warriors who stood around. they were excited enough. bad hail stood near, his eyes bloodshot with rage, his lip quivering, and every trembling limb telling of the tempest within. shah-co-pee, the orator of the dahcotahs, and "the nest," their most famous hunter; the tall form of the aged chief "man in the cloud" leaned against the railing, his sober countenance strangely contrasting with the fiend-like look of his wife; grey iron and little hill, with brave after brave, all crying vengeance to the foe, death to the chippeway! chapter ii. but yesterday the dahcotahs and chippeways, foes from time immemorial, feasted and danced together, for there was peace between them. they had promised to bury the hatchet; the chippeways danced near the fort, and the dahcotahs presented them with blankets and pipes, guns and powder, and all that the savage deems valuable. afterwards, the dahcotahs danced, and the generous chippeways exceeded them in the number and value of their gifts. as evening approached, the bands mingled their amusements--together they contended in the foot-race, or, stretching themselves upon the grass, played at checkers. the chippeways had paid their annual visit of friendship at fort snelling, and, having spent their time happily, they were about to return to their homes. their wise men said they rejoiced that nothing had occurred to disturb the harmony of the two tribes. but their vicinity to the fort prevented any outbreak; had there been no such restraint upon their actions, each would have sought the life of his deadly foe. "hole in the day" was the chief of the chippeways. he owed his station to his own merit; his bravery and firmness had won the respect and admiration of the tribe when he was but a warrior, and they exalted him to the honor of being their chief. deeds of blood marked his course, yet were his manners gentle and his voice low. there was a dignity and a courtesy about his every action that would have well befitted a courtier. he watched with interest the trials of strength between the young men of his own tribe and the dahcotahs. when the latter celebrated one of their national feasts, when they ate the heart of the dog while it was warm with life, just torn from the animal, with what contempt did he gaze upon them! [illustration: falls of st. anthony.] the amusements of the dog feast, or dance, have closed, and the chippeway chief has signified to his warriors that they were to return home on the following day. he expressed a wish to see several of the chiefs of the dahcotahs, and a meeting having been obtained, he thus addressed them-- "warriors! it has been the wish of our great father that we should be friends; blood enough has been shed on both sides. but even if we preferred to continue at war, we must do as our great father says. the indian's glory is passing away; they are as the setting sun; while the white man is as the sun rising in all his power. we are the falling leaves; the whites are the powerful horses that trample them under foot. we are about to return home, and it is well that nothing has happened to occasion strife between us. but i wish you to know that there are two young men among us who do not belong to my band. they are pillagers, belonging to another band, and they may be troublesome. i wish you to tell your young men of this, that they may be on their guard." after smoking together, the chiefs separated. "hole in the day" having thus done all that he deemed proper, returned with his warriors to his teepee. early in the morning the chippeways encamped near st. anthony's falls; the women took upon themselves all the fatigue and labor of the journey, the men carrying only the implements of war and hunting. the chippeway chief was the husband of three wives, who were sisters; and, strange to say, when an indian fancies more than one wife, he is fortunate if he can obtain sisters, for they generally live in harmony, while wives who are not related are constantly quarreling; and the husband does not often interfere, even if words are changed to blows. in the mean time, the two pillagers were lurking about; now remaining a short time with the camp of the chippeways, now absenting themselves for a day or two. but while the chippeways were preparing to leave the falls, the pillagers were in the neighborhood of fort snelling. they had accompanied hole in the day's band, with the determination of killing an enemy. the ancient feud still rankled in their hearts; as yet they had had no opportunity of satisfying their thirst for blood; but on this morning they were concealed in the bushes, when red boy and beloved hail, two dahcotahs, were passing on horseback. it was but a moment--and the deed was done. both the chippeways fired, and beloved hail fell. red boy was wounded, but not badly; he hurried in to tell the sad news, and the two chippeways were soon out of the power of their enemies. they fled, it is supposed, to missouri. the friends of the dead warrior immediately sought his body, and brought it to the house of the interpreter. there his friends came together; and as they entered one by one, on every side pressing, forward to see the still, calm, features of the young man; they threw on the body their blankets, and other presents, according to their custom of honoring the dead. troops are kept at fort snelling, not only as a protection to the whites in the neighborhood, but to prevent, if possible, difficulties between the different bands of indians; and as every year brings the chippeways to fort snelling, either to transact business with the government or on a visit of pleasure, the chippeways and dahcotahs must be frequently thrown together. the commanding officer of the garrison notifies the two bands, on such occasions, that no hostilities will be permitted; so there is rarely an occurrence to disturb their peace. but now it is impossible to restrain the excited passions of the dahcotahs. capt. b----; who was then in command at fort snelling, sent word to the chippeway chief of the murder that had been committed, and requested him to bring all his men in, as the murderer must be given up. but this did not satisfy the dahcotahs; they longed to raise the tomahawk which they held in their hands. they refused to wait, but insisted upon following the chippeways and revenging themselves; the arguments of the agent and other friends of the dahcotahs were unavailing; nothing would satisfy them but blood, the eyes, even of the women, sparkled with delight, at the prospect of the scalps they would dance round; while the mother of beloved hail was heard to call for the scalp of the murderer of her son! seeing the chiefs determined on war, capt. b---- told them he would cease to endeavor to change their intentions; "but as soon" said he, "as you attack the chippeways, will i send the soldiers to your villages; and who will protect your wives and children?" this had the desired effect, and the warriors, seeing the necessity of waiting for the arrival of the chippeways, became more calm. hole in the day with his men came immediately to the fort, where a conference was held at the gate. there were assembled about three hundred dahcotahs and seventy chippeways, with the officers of the garrison and the indian agent. it was ascertained that the murder had been committed by the two pillagers, for none of the other chippeway warriors had been absent from the camp. hole in the day, however, gave up two of his men, as hostages to be kept at fort snelling until the murderers should be given up. the dahcotahs, being obliged for the time to defer the hope of revenge, returned to their village to bury their dead. chapter iii. we rarely consider the indian as a member of a family--we associate him with the tomahawk and scalping-knife. but the very strangeness of the customs of the dahcotahs adds to their interest; and in their mourning they have all the horror of death without an attendant solemnity. all the agony and grief that a christian mother feels when she looks for the last time at the form which will so soon moulder in the dust, an indian mother feels also. the christian knows that the body will live again; that the life-giving breath of the eternal will once more re-animate the helpless clay; that the eyes which were brilliant and beautiful in life will again look brightly from the now closed lids--when the dead shall live--when the beloved child shall "rise again." the dahcotah woman has no such hope. though she believes that the soul will live forever in the "city of spirits," yet the infant she has nursed at her bosom, the child she loved and tended, the young man whose strength and beauty were her boast, will soon be ashes and dust. and if she have not the hope of the christian, neither has she the spirit. for as she cuts off her hair and tears her clothes, throwing them under the scaffold, what joy would it bring to her heart could she hope herself to take the life of the murderer of her son. beloved hail was borne by the indians to his native village, and the usual ceremonies attending the dead performed, but with more than usual excitement, occasioned by the circumstances of the death of their friend. the body of a dead dahcotah is wrapped in cloth or calico, or sometimes put in a box, if one can be obtained, and placed upon a scaffold raised a few feet from the ground. all the relations of the deceased then sit round it for about twenty-four hours; they tear their clothes; run knives through the fleshy parts of their arms, but there is no sacrifice which they can make so great as cutting off their hair. the men go in mourning by painting themselves black and they do not wash the paint off until they take the scalp of an enemy, or give a medicine-dance. while they sit round the scaffold, one of the nearest relations commences a doleful crying, when all the others join in, and continue their wailing for some time. then for awhile their tears are wiped away. after smoking for a short time another of the family commences again, and the others join in. this is continued for a day and night, and then each one goes to his own wigwam. the dahcotahs mourned thus for beloved hail. in the evening the cries of his wife were heard as she called for her husband, while the rocks and the hills echoed the wail. he will return no more--and who will hunt the deer for his wife and her young children! the murderers were never found, and the hostages, after being detained for eighteen months at fort snelling, were released. they bore their confinement with admirable patience, the more so as they were punished for the fault of others. when they were released, they were furnished with guns and clothing. for fear they would be killed by the dahcotahs, their release was kept a secret, and the dahcotahs knew not that the two chippeways were released, until they were far on their journey home. but one of them never saw his native village again. the long confinement had destroyed his health, and being feeble when he set out, he soon found himself unequal to the journey. he died a few days before the home was reached; and the welcome that his companion received was a sad one, for he brought the intelligence of the death of his comrade. chapter iv. but we will do as the dahcotahs did--turn from the sadness and horror of an indian's death, to the gayety and happiness of an indian marriage. the indians are philosophers, after all--they knew that they could not go after the chippeways, so they made the best of it and smoked. beloved hail was dead, but they could not bring him to life, and they smoked again: besides, "walking wind" was to be married to "the war club," whereupon they smoked harder than ever. there are two kinds of marriages among the dahcotahs, buying a wife and stealing one. the latter answers to our runaway matches, and in some respects the former is the ditto of one conducted as it ought to be among ourselves. so after all, i suppose, indian marriages are much like white people's. but among the dahcotahs it is an understood thing that, when the young people run away, they are to be forgiven at any time they choose to return, if it should be the next day, or six months afterwards. this saves a world of trouble. it prevents the necessity of the father looking daggers at the son-in-law, and then loving him violently; the mother is spared the trial of telling her daughter that she forgives her though she has broken her heart; and, what is still better, there is not the slightest occasion whatever for the bride to say she is wretched, for having done what she certainly would do over again to-morrow, were it undone. so that it is easy to understand why the dahcotahs have the advantage of us in runaway matches, or as _they_ say in "stealing a wife;" for it is the same thing, only more honestly stated. when a young man is unable to purchase the girl he loves best, or if her parents are unwilling she should marry him, if he have gained the heart of the maiden he is safe. they appoint a time and place to meet; take whatever will be necessary for their journey; that is, the man takes his gun and powder and shot, and the girl her knife and wooden bowl to eat and drink out of; and these she intends to hide in her blanket. sometimes they merely go to the next village to return the next day. but if they fancy a bridal tour, away they go several hundred miles with the grass for their pillow, the canopy of heaven for their curtains, and the bright stars to light and watch over them. when they return home, the bride goes at once to chopping wood, and the groom to smoking, without the least form or parade. sometimes a young girl dare not run away; for she has a miserly father or mother who may not like her lover because he had not enough to give them for her; and she knows they will persecute her and perhaps shoot her husband. but this does not happen often. just as, once in a hundred years in a christian land, if a girl will run away with a young man, her parents run after her, and in spite of religion and common sense bring her back, have her divorced, and then in either case the parties must, as a matter of course, be very miserable. but the marriage that we are about to witness, is a "marriage in high life" among the dahcotahs, and the bride is regularly bought, as often occurs with us. "walking wind" is not pretty; even the dahcotahs, who are far from being connoisseurs in beauty do not consider her pretty. she is, however, tall and well made, and her feet and hands (as is always the case with the dahcotah women) are small. she has a quantity of jet-black hair, that she braids with a great deal of care. her eyes are very black, but small, and her dark complexion is relieved by more red than is usually seen in the cheeks of the daughters of her race. her teeth are very fine, as everybody knows--for she is always laughing, and her laugh is perfect music. then walking wind is, generally speaking, so good tempered. she was never known to be very angry but once, when harpstenah told her she was in love with "the war club;" she threw the girl down and tore half the hair out of her head. what made it seem very strange was, that she was over head and ears in love with "the war club" at that very time; but she did not choose anybody should know it. war club was a flirt--yes, a male coquette--and he had broken the hearts of half the girls in the band. besides being a flirt, he was a fop. he would plait his hair and put vermilion on his cheeks; and, after seeing that his leggins were properly arranged, he would put the war eagle feathers in his head, and folding his blanket round him, would walk about the village, or attitudinize with all the airs of a broadway dandy. war club was a great warrior too, for on his blanket was marked the red hand, which showed he had killed his worst enemy--for it was his father's enemy, and he had hung the scalp up at his father's grave. besides, he was a great hunter, which most of the dahcotahs are. no one, then, could for a moment doubt the pretensions of war club, or that all the girls of the village should fall in love with him; and he, like a downright flirt, was naturally very cold and cruel to the poor creatures who loved him so much. walking wind, besides possessing many other accomplishments, such as tanning deer-skin, making mocassins, &c., was a capital shot. on one occasion, when the young warriors were shooting at a mark, walking wind was pronounced the best shot among them, and the war club was quite subdued. he could bear everything else; but when walking wind beat him shooting--why--the point was settled; he must fall in love with her, and, as a natural consequence, marry her. walking wind was not so easily won. she had been tormented so long herself, that she was in duty bound to pay back in the same coin. it was a duncan gray affair--only reversed. at last she yielded; her lover gave her so many trinkets. true, they were brass and tin; but dahcotah maidens cannot sigh for pearls and diamonds, for they never even heard of them; and the philosophy of the thing is just the same, since everybody is outdone by somebody. besides, her lover played the flute all night long near her father's wigwam, and, not to speak of the pity that she felt for him, walking wind was confident she never could sleep until that flute stopped playing, which she knew would be as soon as they were married. for all the world knows that no husband, either white or copper-colored, ever troubles himself to pay any attention of that sort to his wife, however devotedly romantic he may have been before marriage. sometimes the dahcotah lover buys his wife without her consent; but the war club was more honorable than that: he loved walking wind, and he wanted her to love him. when all was settled between the young people, war club told his parents that he wanted to marry. the old people were glad to hear it, for they like their ancient and honorable names and houses to be kept up, just as well as lords and dukes do; so they collected everything they owned for the purpose of buying walking wind. guns and blankets, powder and shot, knives and trinkets, were in requisition instead of title-deeds and settlements. so, when all was ready, war club put the presents on a horse, and carried them to the door of walking wind's wigwam. he does not ask for the girl, however, as this would not be dahcotah etiquette. he lays the presents on the ground and has a consultation, or, as the indians say, a "talk" with the parents, concluding by asking them to give him walking wind for his wife. and, what is worthy to be noticed here is, that, after having gone to so much trouble to ask a question, he never for a moment waits for an answer, but turns round, horse and all, and goes back to his wigwam. the parents then consult for a day or two, although they from the first moment have made up their minds as to what they are going to do. in due time the presents are taken into the wigwam, which signifies to the lover that he is a happy man. and on the next day walking wind is to be a bride. chapter v. early in the morning, walking wind commenced her toilet--and it was no light task to deck the indian bride in all her finery. her mocassins were worked with porcupine, and fitted closely her small feet; the leggins were ornamented with ribbons of all colors; her cloth shawl, shaped like a mantilla, was worked with rows of bright ribbons, and the sewing did honor to her own skill in needle-work. her breast was covered with brooches, and a quantity of beads hung round her neck. heavy ear-rings are in her ears--and on her head is a diadem of war eagle's feathers. she has a bright spot of vermilion on each cheek, and--behold an indian bride! when she is ready, as many presents as were given for her are collected and put on a horse; and the bride, accompanied by three or four of her relations, takes the road to the wigwam of the bridegroom. when they arrive within a hundred yards of the wigwam, walking wind's father calls for the war club to come out. he does not come, but sends one of his relations to receive the bride. do not suppose that walking wind's father takes offence at the bridegroom's not coming when he is called; for it is as much a part of the ceremony, among the dahcotahs, for one of the bride's relations to call for the bridegroom, and for the groom to refuse to come, as it is for us to have the ring put upon the third finger of the left hand. as soon as the warrior deputed by the husband elect to receive the bride makes his appearance, the indians raise a shout of applause, and all run towards him as he approaches them, and while they are running and shouting they are firing off their guns too. but the ceremony is not over yet. walking wind, in order to complete the ceremonies, to be a wife, must jump upon the back of her husband's relative, and be thus carried into the wigwam of which she is to be the mistress. what a situation for a bride! walking wind seriously thinks of rebelling; she hesitates--while the man stands ready to start for the wigwam so soon as the luggage is on. the bride draws back and pouts a little, when some of her friends undertake to reason with her; and she, as if to avoid them, springs upon the back of the dahcotah, who carries her into the wigwam. but where on earth is the bridegroom? seated on the ground in the teepee, looking as placid and unconcerned as if nothing was going on. of course he rises to receive his bride? not he; but walking wind is on her feet again, and she takes her seat, without any invitation, by the side of him, who is literally to be her lord and master--and they are man and wife. as much so, as if there were a priest and a ring, pearls and bride-cake. for the dahcotah reveres the ceremony of marriage, and he thinks with solemn awe of the burial rites of his nation, as we do. these rites have been preserved from generation to generation, told from father to son, and they will be handed down until the dahcotahs are no more, or until religion and education take the place of superstition and ignorance--until god, our god, is known and worshipped among a people who as yet have hardly heard his name. shah-co-pee; the orator of the sioux. shah-co-pee (or six) is one of the chiefs of the dahcotahs; his village is about twenty-five miles from fort snelling. he belongs to the bands that are called men-da-wa-can-ton, or people of the spirit lakes. no one who has lived at fort snelling can ever forget him, for at what house has he not called to shake hands and smoke; to say that he is a great chief, and that he is hungry and must eat before he starts for home? if the hint is not immediately acted upon, he adds that the sun is dying fast, and it is time for him to set out. shah-co-pee is not so tall or fine looking as bad hail, nor has he the fine roman features of old man in the cloud. his face is decidedly ugly; but there is an expression of intelligence about his quick black eye and fine forehead, that makes him friends, notwithstanding his many troublesome qualities. at present he is in mourning; his face is painted black. he never combs his hair, but wears a black silk handkerchief tied across his forehead. when he speaks he uses a great deal of gesture, suiting the action to the word. his hands, which are small and well formed, are black with dirt; he does not descend to the duties of the toilet. he is the orator of the dahcotahs. no matter how trifling the occasion, he talks well; and assumes an air of importance that would become him if he were discoursing on matters of life and death. some years ago, our government wished the chippeways and dahcotahs to conclude a treaty of peace among themselves. frequently have these two bands made peace, but rarely kept it any length of time. on this occasion many promises were made on both sides; promises which would be broken by some inconsiderate young warrior before long, and then retaliation must follow. shah-co-pee has great influence among the dahcotahs, and he was to come to fort snelling to be present at the council of peace. early in the morning he and about twenty warriors left their village on the banks of the st. peters, for the fort. when they were very near, so that their actions could be distinguished, they assembled in their canoes, drawing them close together, that they might hear the speech which their chief was about to make them. they raised the stars and stripes, and their own flag, which is a staff adorned with feathers from the war eagle; and the noon-day sun gave brilliancy to their gay dresses, and the feathers and ornaments that they wore. shah-co-pee stood straight and firm in his canoe--and not the less proudly that the walls of the fort towered above him. "my boys," he said (for thus he always addressed his men), "the dahcotahs are all braves; never has a coward been known among the people of the spirit lakes. let the women and children fear their enemies, but we will face our foes, and always conquer. "we are going to talk with the white men; our great father wishes us to be at peace with our enemies. we have long enough shed the blood of the chippeways; we have danced round their scalps, and our children have kicked their heads about in the dust. what more do we want? when we are in council, listen to the words of the interpreter as he tells us what our great father says, and i will answer him for you; and when we have eaten and smoked the pipe of peace, we will return to our village." the chief took his seat with all the importance of a public benefactor. he intended to have all the talking to himself, to arrange matters according to his own ideas; but he did it with the utmost condescension, and his warriors were satisfied. besides being an orator, shah-co-pee is a beggar, and one of a high order too, for he will neither take offence nor a refusal. tell him one day that you will not give him pork and flour, and on the next he returns, nothing daunted, shaking hands, and asking for pork and flour. he always gains his point, for you are obliged to give in order to get rid of him. he will take up his quarters at the interpreter's, and come down upon you every day for a week just at meal time--and as he is always blessed with a ferocious appetite, it is much better to capitulate, come to terms by giving him what he wants, and let him go. and after he has once started, ten to one if he does not come back to say he wants to shoot and bring you some ducks; you must give him powder and shot to enable him to do so. that will probably be the last of it. chapter ii. it was a beautiful morning in june when we left fort snelling to go on a pleasure party up the st. peters, in a steamboat, the first that had ever ascended that river. there were many drawbacks in the commencement, as there always are on such occasions. the morning was rather cool, thought some, and as they hesitated about going, of course their toilets were delayed to the last moment. and when all were fairly in the boat, wood was yet to be found. then something was the matter with one of the wheels--and the mothers were almost sorry they had consented to come; while the children, frantic with joy, were in danger of being drowned every moment, by the energetic movements they made near the sides of the boat, by way of indicating their satisfaction at the state of things. in the cabin, extensive preparations were making in case the excursion brought on a good appetite. everybody contributed loaf upon loaf of bread and cake; pies, coffee and sugar; cold meats of every description; with milk and cream in bottles. now and then, one of these was broken or upset, by way of adding to the confusion, which was already intolerable. champaigne and old cogniac were brought by the young gentlemen, only for fear the ladies should be sea-sick; or, perhaps, in case the gentlemen should think it positively necessary to drink the ladies' health. when we thought all was ready, there was still another delay. shah-co-pee and two of his warriors were seen coming down the hill, the chief making an animated appeal to some one on board the boat; and as he reached the shore he gave us to understand that his business was concluded, and that he would like to go with us. but it was very evident that he considered his company a favor. the bright sun brought warmth, and we sat on the upper deck admiring the beautiful shores of the st. peter's. not a creature was to be seen for some distance on the banks, and the birds as they flew over our heads seemed to be the fit and only inhabitants of such a region. when tired of admiring the scenery, there was enough to employ us. the table was to be set for dinner; the children had already found out which basket contained the cake, and they were casting admiring looks towards it. when we were all assembled to partake of some refreshments, it was delightful to find that there were not enough chairs for half the party. we borrowed each other's knives and forks too, and etiquette, that petty tyrant of society, retired from the scene. shah-co-pee found his way to the cabin, where he manifested strong symptoms of shaking hands over again; in order to keep him quiet, we gave him plenty to eat. how he seemed to enjoy a piece of cake that had accidentally dropped into the oyster-soup! and with equal gravity would he eat apple-pie and ham together. and then his cry of "wakun" [footnote: mysterious.] when the cork flew from the champaigne bottle across the table! how happily the day passed--how few such days occur in the longest life! as shah-co-pee's village appeared in sight, the chief addressed col. d----, who was at that time in command of fort snelling, asking him why we had come on such an excursion. "to escort you home" was the ready reply; "you are a great chief, and worthy of being honored, and we have chosen this as the best way of showing our respect and admiration of you." the dahcotah chief believed all; he never for a moment thought there was anything like jesting on the subject of his own high merits; his face beamed with delight on receiving such a compliment. the men and women of the village crowded on the shore as the boat landed, as well they might, for a steamboat was a new sight to them. the chief sprang from the boat, and swelling with pride and self admiration he took the most conspicuous station on a rock near the shore, among his people, and made them a speech. we could but admire his native eloquence. here, with all that is wild in nature surrounding him, did the untaught orator address his people. his lips gave rapid utterance to thoughts which did honor to his feelings, when we consider who and what he was. he told them that the white people were their friends; that they wished them to give up murder and intemperance, and to live quietly and happily. they taught them to plant corn, and they were anxious to instruct their children. "when we are suffering," said he, "during the cold weather, from sickness or want of food, they give us medicine and bread." and finally he told them of the honor that had been paid him. "i went, as you know, to talk with the big captain of the fort, and he, knowing the bravery of the dahcotahs, and that i was a great chief, has brought me home, as you see. never has a dahcotah warrior been thus honored!" never indeed! but we took care not to undeceive him. it was a harmless error, and as no efforts on our part could have diminished his self importance, we listened with apparent, indeed with real admiration of his eloquent speech. the women brought ducks on board, and in exchange we gave them bread; and it was evening as we watched the last teepee of shah-co-pee's village fade away in the distance. but sorrow mingles with the remembrance of that bright day. one of those who contributed most to its pleasures is gone from us--one whom all esteemed and many loved, and justly, for never beat a kinder or a nobler heart. chapter iii. shah-co-pee has looked rather grave lately. there is trouble in the wigwam. the old chief is the husband of three wives, and they and their children are always fighting. the first wife is old as the hills, wrinkled and haggard; the chief cares no more for her than he does for the stick of wood she is chopping. she quarrels with everybody but him, and this prevents her from being quite forgotten. the day of the second wife is past too, it is of no use for i her to plait her hair and put on her ornaments; for the old chief's heart is wrapped up in his third wife. the girl did not love him, how could she? and he did not succeed in talking her into the match; but he induced the parents to sell her to him, and the young wife went weeping to the teepee of the chief. hers was a sad fate. she hated her husband as much as he loved her. no presents could reconcile her to her situation. the two forsaken wives never ceased annoying her, and their children assisted them. the young wife had not the courage to resent their ill treatment, for the loss of her lover had broken her heart. but that lover did not seem to be in such despair as she was--he did not quit the village, or drown himself, or commit any act of desperation. he lounged and smoked as much as ever. on one occasion when shah-co-pee was absent from the village the lovers met. they had to look well around them, for the two old wives were always on the look out for something to tell of the young one; but there was no one near. the wind whistled keenly round the bend of the river as the dahcotah told the weeping girl to listen to him. when had she refused? how had she longed to hear the sound of his voice when wearied to death with the long boastings of the old chief. but how did her heart beat when red stone told her that he loved her still--that he had only been waiting an opportunity to induce her to leave her old husband, and go with him far away. she hesitated a little, but not long; and when shah-co-pee returned to his teepee his young wife was gone--no one had seen her depart--no one knew where to seek for her. when the old man heard that red stone was gone too, his rage knew no bounds. he beat his two wives almost to death, and would have given his handsomest pipe-stem to have seen the faithless one again. his passion did not last long; it would have killed him if it had. his wives moaned all through the night, bruised and bleeding, for the fault of their rival; while the chief had recourse to the pipe, the never-failing refuge of the dahcotah. "i thought," said the chief, "that some calamity was going to happen to me" (for, being more composed, he began to talk to the other indians who sat with him in his teepee, somewhat after the manner and in the spirit of job's friends). "i saw unk-a-tahe, the great fish of the water, and it showed its horns; and we know that that is always a sign of trouble." "ho!" replied an old medicine man, "i remember when unk-a-tahe got in under the falls" (of st. anthony) "and broke up the ice. the large pieces of ice went swiftly down, and the water forced its way until it was frightful to see it. the trees near the shore were thrown down, and the small islands were left bare. near fort snelling there was a house where a white man and his wife lived. the woman heard the noise, and, waking her husband, ran out; but as he did not follow her quick enough, the house was soon afloat and he was drowned." there was an indian camp near this house, for the body of wenona, the sick girl who was carried over the falls, was found here. it was placed on a scaffold on the shore, near where the indians found her, and checkered cloud moved her teepee, to be near her daughter. several other dahcotah families were also near her. but what was their fright when they heard the ice breaking, and the waters roaring as they carried everything before them? the father of wenona clung to his daughter's scaffold, and no entreaties of his wife or others could induce him to leave. "unk-a-tahe has done this," cried the old man, "and i care not. he carried my sick daughter under the waters, and he may bury me there too." and while the others fled from the power of unk-a-tahe, the father and mother clung to the scaffold of their daughter. they were saved, and they lived by the body of wenona until they buried her. "the power of unk-a-tahe is great!" so spoke the medicine man, and shah-co-pee almost forgot his loss in the fear and admiration of this monster of the deep, this terror of the dahcotahs. he will do well to forget the young wife altogether; for she is far away, making mocassins for the man she loves. she rejoices at her escape from the old man, and his two wives; while he is always making speeches to his men, commencing by saying he is a great chief, and ending with the assertion that red stone should have respected his old age, and not have stolen from him the only wife he loved. chapter iv. shah-co-pee came, a few days ago, with twenty other warriors, some of them chiefs, on a visit to the commanding officer of fort snelling. the dahcotahs had heard that the winnebagoes were about to be removed, and that they were to pass through their hunting grounds on their way to their future homes. they did not approve of this arrangement. last summer the dahcotahs took some scalps of the winnebagoes, and it was decided at washington that the dahcotahs should pay four thousand dollars of their annuities as an atonement for the act. this caused much suffering among the dahcotahs; fever was making great havoc among them, and to deprive them of their flour and other articles of food was only enfeebling their constitutions, and rendering them an easy prey for disease. the dahcotahs thought this very hard at the time; they have not forgotten the circumstance, and they think that they ought to be consulted before their lands are made a thoroughfare by their enemies. they accordingly assembled, and, accompanied by the indian agent and the interpreter, came to fort snelling to make their complaint. when they were all seated, (all on the floor but one, who looked most uncomfortable, mounted on a high chair), the agent introduced the subject, and it was discussed for a while; the dahcotahs paying the most profound attention, although they could not understand a word of what was passing; and when there was a few moments' silence, the chiefs rose each in his turn to protest against the winnebagoes passing through their country. they all spoke sensibly and well; and when one finished, the others all intimated their approval by crying "ho!" as a kind of chorus. after a while shah-co-pee rose; his manner said "i am sir oracle." he shook hands with the commanding officer, with the agent and interpreter, and then with some strangers who were visiting the fort. his attitude was perfectly erect as he addressed the officer. "we are the children of our great father, the president of the united states; look upon us, for we are your children too. you are placed here to see that the dahcotahs are protected, that their rights are not infringed upon." while the indians cried ho! ho! with great emphasis, shah-co-pee shook hands all round again, and then resumed his place and speech. "once this country all belonged to the dahcotahs. where had the white man a place to call his own on our prairies? he could not even pass through our country without our permission! "our great father has signified to us that he wants our lands. we have sold some of them to him, and we are content to do so, but he has promised to protect us, to be a friend to us, to take care of us as a father does of his children. "when the white man wishes to visit us, we open the door of our country to him; we treat him with hospitality. he looks at our rocks, our river, our trees, and we do not disturb him. the dahcotah and the white man are friends. "but the winnebagoes are not our friends, we suffered for them not long ago; our children wanted food; our wives were sick; they could not plant corn or gather the indian potato. many of our nation died; their bodies are now resting on their scaffolds. the night birds clap their wings as the winds howl over them! "and we are told that our great father will let the winnebagoes make a path through our hunting grounds: they will subsist upon our game; every bird or animal they kill will be a loss to us. "the dahcotah's lands are not free to others. if our great father wishes to make any use of our lands, he should pay us. we object to the winnebagoes passing through our country; but if it is too late to prevent this, then we demand a thousand dollars for every village they shall pass." ho! cried the indians again; and shah-co-pee, after shaking hands once more, took his seat. i doubt if you will ever get the thousand dollars a village, shah-co-pee; but i like the spirit that induces you to demand it. may you live long to make speeches and beg bread--the unrivalled orator and most notorious beggar of the dahcotahs! oye-kar-mani-vim; the track-maker. chapter i. it was in the summer of -, that a large party of chippeways visited fort snelling. there was peace between them and the sioux. their time was passed in feasting and carousing; their canoes together flew over the waters of the mississippi. the young sioux warriors found strange beauty in the oval faces of the chippeway girls; and the chippeways discovered (what was actually the case) that the women of the dahcotahs were far more graceful than those of their own nation. but as the time of the departure of the chippeways approached, many a chippeway maiden wept when she remembered how soon she would bid adieu to all her hopes of happiness. and flying shadow was saddest of them all. she would gladly have given up everything for her lover. what were home and friends to her who loved with all the devotion of a heart untrammeled by forms, fresh from the hand of nature? she listened to his flute in the still evening, as if her spirit would forsake her when she heard it no more. she would sit with him on the bluff which hung over the mississippi, and envy the very waters which would remain near him, when she was far away. but her lover loved his nation even more than he did her; and though he would have died to have saved her from sorrow, yet he knew she could never be his wife. even were he to marry her, her life would ever be in danger. a chippeway could not long find a home among the dahcotahs. the track-maker bitterly regretted that they had ever met, when he saw her grief at the prospect of parting. "let us go," he said, "to the falls, where i will tell you the story you asked me." the track-maker entered the canoe first, and the girl followed; and so pleasant was the task of paddling her lover over the quiet waters, that it seemed but a moment before they were in sight of the torrent. "it was there," said the sioux, "that wenona and her child found their graves. her husband, accompanied by some other dahcotahs, had gone some distance above the falls to hunt. while there, he fell in love with a young girl whom he thought more beautiful than his wife. wenona knew that she must no longer hope to be loved as she had been. "the dahcotahs killed much game, and then broke up their camp and started for their homes. when they reached the falls, the women got ready to carry their canoes and baggage round. "but wenona was going on a longer journey. she would not live when her husband loved her no more, and, putting her son in her canoe, she soon reached the island that divides the falls. "then she put on all her ornaments, as if she were a bride; she dressed her boy too, as a dahcotah warrior; she turned to look once more at her husband, who was helping his second wife to put the things she was to carry, on her back. "soon her husband called to her; she did not answer him, but placed her child high up in the canoe, so that his father could see him, and getting in herself she paddled towards the rapids. "her husband saw that unk-tahe would destroy her, and he called to her to come ashore. but he might have called to the roaring waters as well, and they would have heeded him as soon as she. "still he ran along the shore with his arms uplifted, entreating her to come ashore. "wenona continued her course towards the rapids--her voice was heard above the waters as she sang her death song. soon the mother and child were seen no more--the waters covered them. "but her spirit wanders near this place. an elk and fawn are often seen, and we know they are wenona and her child." "do you love me as wenona loved?" continued the sioux, as he met the looks of the young girl bent upon him. "i will not live when i see you no more," she replied. "as the flowers die when the winter's cold falls upon them, so will my spirit depart when i no longer listen to your voice. but when i go to the land of spirits i shall be happy. my spirit will return to earth; but it will be always near you." little didst thou dream that the fate of wenona would be less sad than thine. she found the death she sought, in the waters whose bosom opened to receive her. but thou wilt bid adieu to earth in the midst of the battle--in the very presence of him, for whose love thou wouldst venture all. thy spirit will flee trembling from the shrieks of the dying mother, the suffering child. death will come to thee as a terror, not as a refuge. chapter ii. when the chippeways broke up their camp near fort snelling, they divided into two parties, one party returning home by the mississippi, the other by way of the st. croix. they parted on the most friendly terms with the sioux, giving presents, and receiving them in return. some pillagers, who acknowledge no control, had accompanied the chippeways. these pillagers are in fact highwaymen or privateers--having no laws, and acting from the impulses of their own fierce hearts. after the chippeways had left, the pillagers concealed themselves in a path near lake calhoun. this lake is about seven miles from fort snelling. before they had been concealed one hour, two dahcotahs passed, father and son. the pillagers fired, and the father was killed instantly; but the son escaped, and made his way home in safety. the boy entered the village calling for his mother, to tell her the sad news; her cries of grief gave the alarm, and soon the death of the sioux was known throughout the village. the news flew from village to village on the wings of the wind; indian runners were seen in every direction, and in twenty-four hours there were three hundred warriors on foot in pursuit of the chippeways. every preparation was made for the death-strife. not a sioux warrior but vowed he would with his own arm avenge the death of his friend. the very tears of the wife were dried when the hope of vengeance cheered her heart. the track-maker was famous as a warrior. already did the aged dahcotahs listen to his words; for he was both wise and brave. he was among the foremost to lead the dahcotahs against the chippeways; and though he longed to raise his tomahawk against his foes, his spirit sunk within him when he remembered the girl he loved. what will be her fate! oh! that he had never seen her. but it was no time to think of her. duty called upon him to avenge the death of his friend. chapter iii. woe to the unsuspecting chippeways! ignorant of the murder that had been committed, they were leisurely turning their steps homeward, while the pillagers made their escape with the scalp of the dahcotah. the sioux travelled one day and night before they came up with the chippeways. nothing could quench their thirst but blood. and the women and children must suffer first. the savage suffers a twofold death; before his own turn comes, his young children lie breathless around him, their mother all unconscious by their side. the chippeways continued their journey, fearing nothing. they had camped between the falls of st. anthony and rum river; they were refreshed, and the men proceeded first, leaving their women and children to follow. they were all looking forward with pleasure to seeing their homes again. the women went leisurely along; the infant slept quietly--what should it fear close to its mother's heart! the young children laughed as they hid themselves behind the forest trees, and then emerged suddenly to frighten the others. the chippeway maidens rejoiced when they remembered that their rivals, the dahcotah girls, would no longer seduce their lovers from their allegiance. flying shadow wept, there was nothing to make her happy, she would see the track-maker no more, and she looked forward to death as the end of her cares. she concealed in her bosom the trinkets he had given her; every feature of his face was written on her heart--that heart that beat only for him, that so soon would cease to beat at all! but there was a fearful cry, that banished even him from her thoughts. the war-whoop burst suddenly upon the defenceless women. hundreds of dahcotah warriors rose up to blind the eyes of the terror-stricken mothers. their children are scalped before their eyes; their infants are dashed against the rocks, which are not more insensible to their cries than their murderers. it is a battle of strength against weakness. stern warrior, it needs not to strike the mother that blow! she dies in the death of her children. [footnote: the dahcotahs believe, or many of them believe, that each body has four souls. one wanders about the earth and requires food; a second watches over the body; the third hovers round its native village, while the fourth goes to the land of spirits.] the maidens clasp their small hands--a vain appeal to the merciless wretches, who see neither beauty nor grace, when rage and revenge are in their hearts. it is blood they thirst for, and the young and innocent fall like grass before the mower. flying shadow sees her lover! he is advancing towards her! what does his countenance say? there is sadness in his face, and she hopes--aye, more than hopes--she knows he will save her. with all a woman's trust she throws herself in his arms. "save me! save me!" she cries; "do not let them slay me before your eyes; make me your prisoner! [footnote: when the sioux are tired of killing, they sometimes take their victims prisoners, and, generally speaking, treat them with great kindness.] you said that you loved me, spare my life!" who shall tell his agony? for a moment he thought he would make her his prisoner. another moment's reflection convinced him that that would be of no avail. he knew that she must die, but he could not take her life. her eyes were trustingly turned upon him; her soft hand grasped his arm. but the sioux warriors were pressing upon them, he gave her one more look, he touched her with his spear, [footnote: when a dahcotah touches an enemy with his spear, he is privileged to wear a feather of honor, as if he had taken a scalp.] and he was gone. and flying shadow was dead. she felt not the blow that sent her reeling to the earth. her lover had forsaken her in the hour of danger, and what could she feel after that? the scalp was torn from her head by one of those who had most admired her beauty; and her body was trampled upon by the very warriors who had so envied her lover. the shrieks of the dying women reached the ears of their husbands and brothers. quickly did they retrace their steps, and when they reached the spot, they bravely stood their ground; but the dahcotahs were too powerful for them,--terrible was the struggle! the dahcotahs continued the slaughter, and the chippeways were obliged at last to give way. one of the chippeways seized his frightened child and placed him upon his back. his wife lay dead at his feet; with his child clinging to him, he fought his way through. two of the dahcotahs followed him, for he was flying fast; and they feared he would soon be out of their power. they thought, as they nearly came up to him, that he would loose his hold on his child; but the father's heart was strong within him. he flies, and the sioux are close upon his heels! he fires and kills one of them. the other sioux follows: he has nothing to encumber him--he must be victor in such an unequal contest. but the love that was stronger than death nerved the father's arm. he kept firing, and the sioux retreated. the chippeway and his young son reached their home in safety, there to mourn the loss of others whom they loved. the sun set upon a bloody field; the young and old lay piled together; the hearts that had welcomed the breaking of the day were all unconscious of its close. the sioux were avenged; and the scalps that they brought home (nearly one hundred when the party joined them from the massacre at saint croix) bore witness to their triumph. the other party of sioux followed the chippeways who had gone by way of the st. croix. while the chippeways slept, the war-cry of the sioux aroused them. and though they fought bravely, they suffered as did their friends, and the darkness of night added terror to the scene. the dahcotahs returned with the scalps to their villages, and as they entered triumphantly, they were greeted with shouts of applause. the scalps were divided among the villages, and joyful preparations were made to celebrate the scalp-dance. the scalps were stretched upon hoops, and covered with vermilion, ornamented with feathers, ribbons and trinkets. on the women's scalps were hung a comb, or a pair of scissors, and for months did the dahcotah women dance around them. the men wore mourning for their enemies, as is the custom among the dahcotahs. when the dancing was done, the scalps were buried with the deceased relatives of the sioux who took them. and this is indian, but what is christian warfare? the wife of the hero lives to realize her wretchedness; the honors paid by his countrymen are a poor recompense for the loss of his love and protection. the life of the child too, is safe, but who will lead him in the paths of virtue, when his mother has gone down to the grave. let us not hear of civilized warfare! it is all the work of the spirits of evil. god did not make man to slay his brother, and the savage alone can present an excuse. the dahcotah dreams not that it is wrong to resent an injury to the death; but the christian knows that god has said, vengeance is mine! chapter iv. the track-maker had added to his fame. he had taken many scalps, and the dahcotah maidens welcomed him as a hero--as one who would no longer refuse to acknowledge the power of their charms. they asked him eagerly of the fight--whom he had killed first--but they derived but little satisfaction from his replies. they found he resisted their advances, and they left him to his gloomy thoughts. every scene he looked upon added to his grief. memory clung to him, recalling every word and look of flying shadow. but, that last look, could he ever forget it? he tried to console himself with the thoughts of his triumph. alas! her smile was sweeter than the recollection of revenge. he had waded in the blood of his enemies; he had trampled upon the hearts of the men he hated; but he had broken the heart of the only woman he had ever loved. in the silence of the night her death-cry sounded in his ear; and he would start as if to flee from the sound. in his dreams he saw again that trustful face, that look of appeal--and then the face of stone, when she saw that she had appealed in vain. he followed the chase, but there he could not forget the battle scene. "save me! save me!" forever whispered every forest leaf, or every flowing wave. often did he hear her calling him, and he would stay his steps as if he hoped to meet her smile. the medicine men offered to cure his disease; but he knew that it was beyond their art, and he cared not how soon death came, nor in what form. he met the fate he sought. a war party was formed among the dahcotahs to seek more scalps, more revenge. but the track-maker was weary of glory. he went with the party, and never returned. like _her_, he died in battle; but the death that she sought to avert, was a welcome messenger to him. he felt that in the grave all would be forgotten. eta keazah; or, sullen face. * * * * * wenona was the light of her father's wigwam--the pride of the band of sissetons, whose village is on the shores of beautiful lake travers. however cheerfully the fire might burn in the dwelling of the aged chief, there was darkness, for him when she was away--and the mother's heart was always filled with anxiety, for she knew that wenona had drawn upon her the envy of her young companions, and she feared that some one of them would cast a spell [footnote: the indians fear that from envy or jealousy some person may cast a fatal spell upon them to produce sickness, or even death. this superstition seems almost identical with the obi or obeat of the west india negroes.] upon her child, that her loveliness might be dimmed by sorrow or sickness. the warriors of the band strove to outdo each other in noble deeds, that they might feel more worthy to claim her hand;--while the hunters tried to win her good will by presents of buffalo and deer. but wenona thought not yet of love. the clear stream that reflected her form told her she was beautiful; yet her brother was the bravest warrior of the sissetons; and her aged parents too--was not their love enough to satisfy her heart! never did brother and sister love each other more; their features were the same, yet man's sternness in him was changed to woman's softness in her. the "glance of the falcon" in his eye was the "gaze of the dove" in hers. but at times the expression of his face would make you wonder that you ever could have thought him like his twin sister. when he heard the sisseton braves talk of the hunts they had in their youth, before the white man drove them from the hunting-grounds of their forefathers;--when instead of the blanket they wore the buffalo robe;--when happiness and plenty were in their wigwams--and when the voices of weak women and famished children were never heard calling for food in vain--then the longing for vengeance that was written on his countenance, the imprecations that were breathed from his lips, the angry scowl, the lightning from his eye, all made him unlike indeed to his sister, the pride of the sissetons! when the gentle breeze would play among the prairie flowers, then would she win him from such bitter thoughts. "come, my brother, we will go and sit by the banks of the lake, why should you be unhappy! the buffalo is still to be found upon our hunting-grounds--the spirit of the lake watches over us--we shall not want for food." he would go, because she asked him. the quiet and beauty of nature were not for him; rather would he have stood alone when the storm held its sway; when the darkness was only relieved by the flash that laid the tall trees of the forest low; when the thunder bird clapped her wings as she swept through the clouds above him. but could he refuse to be happy when wenona smiled? alas! that her gentle spirit should not always have been near to soften his! but as the beauty and warmth of summer passed away, so did wenona's strength begin to fail; the autumn wind, that swept rudely over the prairie flowers, so that they could not lift their heads above the tall grass, seemed to pass in anger over the wigwam of the old man--for the eye of the dahcotah maiden was losing its brightness, and her step was less firm, as she wandered with her brother in her native woods. vainly did the medicine men practice their cherished rites--the great spirit had called--and who could refuse to hear his voice? she faded with the leaves--and the cries of the mourners were answered by the wailing winds, as they sang her requiem. a few months passed away, and her brother was alone. the winter that followed his sister's death, was a severe one. the mother had never been strong, and she soon followed her daughter--while the father's age unfitted him to contend with sorrow, infirmity, and want. spring returned, but winter had settled on the heart of the young sisseton; she was gone who alone could drive away the shadow from his brow, what wonder then that his countenance should always be stern. the indians called him eta keazah, or sullen face. but after the lapse of years, the boy, who brooded over the wrongs of his father, eagerly seeks an opportunity to avenge his own. his sister has never been forgotten; but he remembers her as we do a beautiful dream; and she is the spirit that hovers round him while his eyes are closed in sleep. but there are others who hold a place in his heart. his wife is always ready to receive him with a welcome, and his young son calls upon him to teach him to send the arrow to the heart of the buffalo. but the sufferings of his tribe, from want of food and other privations, are ever before his eyes. vengeance upon the white man, who has caused them! chapter ii. winter is the season of trial for the sioux, especially for the women and children. the incursions of the english half-breeds and cree indians, into the sisseton country, have caused their buffalo to recede, and so little other game is to be found, that indescribable sufferings are endured every winter by the sissetons. starvation forces the hunters to seek for the buffalo in the depth of winter. their families must accompany them, for they have not the smallest portion of food to leave with them; and who will protect them from the chippeways! however inclement the season, their home must be for a time on the open prairie. as far as the eye can reach, it is a desert of snow. not a stick of timber can be seen. a storm is coming on too; nothing is heard but the howling blast, which mocks the cries of famished children. the drifting of the snow makes it impossible to see what course they are to take; they have only to sit down and let the snow fall upon them. it is a relief when they are quite covered with it, for it shelters them from the keenness of the blast! alas! for the children; the cry of those who can speak is, give me food! while the dying infant clings to its mother's breast, seeking to draw, with its parting breath, the means of life. but the storm is over; the piercing cold seizes upon the exhausted frames of the sufferers. the children have hardly strength to stand; the father places one upon his back and goes forward; the mother wraps her dead child in her blanket, and lays it in the snow; another is clinging to her, she has no time to weep for the dead; nature calls upon her to make an effort for the living. she takes her child and follows the rest. it would be a comfort to her, could she hope to find her infant's body when summer returns to bury it. she shudders, and remembers that the wolves of the prairie are starving too! food is found at last; the strength of the buffalo yields to the arrow of the sioux. we will have food and not die, is the joyful cry of all, and when their fierce appetites are appeased, they carry with them on their return to their village, the skins of the animals with the remainder of the meat. the sufferings of famine and fatigue, however, are followed by those of disease; the strength of many is laid low. they must watch, too, for their enemies are at hand. chapter iii. in the summer of a large party of half-breeds and indians from red river,--english subjects,--trespassed upon the hunting grounds of the sioux. there were several hundred hunters, and many carts drawn by oxen for the purpose of carrying away the buffalo they had killed. one of this party had left his companions, and was riding alone at some distance from them. a dahcotah knew that his nation would suffer from the destruction of their game--fresh in his memory, too, were the sufferings of the past winter. what wonder then that the arrow which was intended for the buffalo, should find its way to the heart of the trespasser! this act enraged the half-breeds; they could not find the sioux who committed it--but a few days after they fell in with a party of others, who were also hunting, and killed seven of them. the rest escaped, and carried the news of the death of their braves to their village. one of the killed was a relative of sullen face. the sad news spread rapidly through the village, and nothing was heard but lamentation. the women cut long gashes on their arms, and as the blood flowed from the wound they would cry, where is my husband? my son? my brother? soon the cry of revenge is heard above that of lamentation. "it is not possible," said sullen face, "that we can allow these english to starve us, and take the lives of our warriors. they have taken from us the food that would nourish our wives and children; and more, they have killed seven of our bravest men! we will have revenge--we will watch for them, and bring home their scalps, that our women may dance round them!" a war party was soon formed, and sullen face, at the head of more than fifty warriors, stationed himself in the vicinity of the road by which the half-breeds from red river drive their cattle to fort snelling. some days after, there was an unusual excitement in the sioux village on swan lake, about twenty miles northwest of traverse des sioux. a number of indians were gazing at an object not very distant, and in order to discover what it was, the chief of the village, sleepy eyes, had sent one of his young men out, while the rest continued to regard it with looks of curiosity and awe. they observed that as the sioux approached it, he slackened his pace, when suddenly he gave a loud cry and ran towards the village. he soon reached them, and pale with terror, exclaimed, "it is a spirit, it is white as the snow that covers our prairies in the winter. it looked at me and spoke not." for a short time, his fears infected the others, but after a while several determined to go and bring a more satisfactory report to their chief. they returned with the body, as it seemed only, of a white man; worn to a skeleton, with his feet cut and bleeding, unable to speak from exhaustion; nothing but the beating of his heart told that he lived. the indian women dressed his feet, and gave him food, wiped the blood from his limbs, and, after a consultation, they agreed to send word to the missionaries at traverse des sioux, that there was a white man sick and suffering with them. the missionaries came immediately; took the man to their home, and with kind nursing he was soon able to account for the miserable situation in which he had been found. "we left the state of missouri," said the man, whose name was bennett, "for the purpose of carrying cattle to fort snelling. my companions' names were watson and turner. we did not know the road, but supposed a map would guide us, with what information we could get on the way. we lost our way, however, and were eagerly looking for some person who could set us right. early one morning some sioux came up with us, and seemed inclined to join our party. one of them left hastily as if sent on a message; after a while a number of warriors, accompanied by the indian who had left the first party, came towards us. their leader had a dark countenance, and seemed to have great influence over them. we tried to make them understand that we had lost our way; we showed them the map, but they did not comprehend us. "after angrily addressing his men for a few moments, the leader shot watson through the shoulder, and another sent an arrow through his body and killed him. they then struck watson's brother and wounded him. "in the mean time the other indians had been killing our cattle; and some of the animals having run away, they made watson, who was sadly bruised with the blows he had received from them, mount a horse and go with them to hunt the rest of the cattle. we never heard of him again. the indians say he disappeared from among the bushes, and they could not find him; but the probability is that they killed him. some seemed to wish to kill turner and myself--but after a while they told us to go, giving us our horses and a little food. we determined to retrace our steps. it was the best thing we could do; but our horses gave out, and we were obliged to leave them and proceed on foot. "we were soon out of provisions, and having no means of killing game, our hearts began to fail us. turner was unwell, and on arriving at a branch of crow river, about one hundred miles northwest of fort snelling, he found himself unable to swim. i tried to carry him across on my back, but could not do it; he was drowned, and i barely succeeded in reaching the shore. after resting, i proceeded on my journey. when i came in sight of the indian village, much as i needed food and rest, i dreaded to show myself, for fear of meeting watson's fate. i was spared the necessity of deciding. i fainted and fell to the ground. they found me, and proved kinder than i anticipated. "why they should have molested us i know not. there is something in it that i do not understand." but it is easily explained. sullen face supposed them to belong to the party that had killed his friends, and through this error he had shed innocent blood. chapter iv. who that has seen fort snelling will not bear testimony to its beautiful situation! whichever way we turn, nature calls for our admiration. but beautiful as it is by day, it is at night that its majesty and loveliness speak to the soul. look to the north, (while the aurora borealis is flashing above us, and the sound of the waters of st. anthony's falls meets the ear,) the high bluffs of the mississippi seem to guard its waters as they glide along. to the south, the st. peter's has wandered off, preferring gentle prairies to rugged cliffs. to the east we see the "meeting of the waters;" gladly as the returning child meets the welcoming smile of the parent, do the waves of the st. peter's flow into the mississippi. on the west, there is prairie far as the eye can reach. but it is to the free only that nature is beautiful. can the prisoner gaze with pleasure on the brightness of the sky, or listen to the rippling of the waves? they make him feel his fetters the more. i am here, with my heavy chain! and i look on a torrent sweeping by. and an eagle rushing to the sky, and a host to its battle plain. must i pine in my fetters here! with the wild wave's foam and the free bird's flight, and the tall spears glancing on my sight, and the trumpet in mine ear? the summer of found sullen face a prisoner at fort snelling. government having been informed of the murder of watson by two dahcotah indians, orders were received at fort snelling that two companies should proceed to the sisseton country, and take the murderers, that they might be tried by the laws of the united states. now for excitement, the charm of garrison life. officers are of course always ready to "go where glory waits" them, but who ever heard of one being ready to go when the order came? alas! for the young officer who has a wife to leave; it will be weeks before he meets again her gentle smile! still more--alas for him who has no wife at all! for he has not a shirt with buttons on it, and most of what he has are in the wash. he will have to borrow of selden; but here's the difficulty, selden is going too, and is worse off than himself. but no matter! what with pins and twine and trusting to chance, they will get along. then the married men are inquiring for tin reflectors, for hard bread, though healthy, is never tempting. india rubber cloaks are in requisition too. those who are going, claim the doctor in case of accidents. those who stay, their wives at least, want him for fear of measles; while the disciple of esculapius, though he knows there will be better cooking if he remain at home, is certain there will be food for fun if he go. it is soon decided--the doctor goes. then the privates share in the pleasure of the day. how should a soldier be employed but in active service? besides, what a capital chance to desert! one, who is tired of calling "all's well" through the long night, with only the rocks and trees to hear him, hopes that it will be his happy fate to find out there is danger near, and to give the alarm, another vows, that if trouble wont come, why he will bring it by quarrelling with the first rascally indian he meets. all is ready. rations are put up for the men;--hams, buffalo tongues, pies and cake for the officers. the battalion marches out to the sound of the drum and fife;--they are soon down the hill--they enter their boats; hand-kerchiefs are waved from the fort, caps are raised and flourished over the water;--they are almost out of sight--they are gone. when the troops reached their destination, sullen face and forked horn were not there, but the chief gave them three of his warriors, (who were with the party of sullen face at the time of the murder,) promising that when the two murderers returned they would come to fort snelling, and give themselves up. there was nothing then to prevent the immediate return of our troops. their tramp had been a delightful one, and so far success had crowned their expedition. they were in the highest spirits. but a little incident occurred on their return, that was rather calculated to show the transitoriness of earthly joys. one dark night, when those who were awake were thinking, and those who slept were dreaming of their welcome home, there was evidently a disturbance. the sleepers roused themselves; guns were discharged. what could it be? the cause was soon ascertained. to speak poetically, the birds had flown--in plain language, the prisoners had run away. they were not bound, their honor had been trusted to;--but you cannot place much reliance on the honor of an indian with a prison in prospect. i doubt if a white man could be trusted under such circumstances. true, there was a guard, but, as i said, 'twas a dark night. the troops returned in fine health, covered with dust and fleas, if not with glory. chapter v. it is time to return to sullen face. he and forked horn, on their return to the village, were informed of what had occurred during their absence. they offered to fulfil the engagement of the chief, and accompanied by others of the band, they started for fort snelling. the wife of sullen face had insisted upon accompanying him, and influenced by a presentiment that he should never return to his native village, he allowed her to do so. their little boy quite forgot his fatigue as he listened to his father's voice, and held his hand. when they were near the fort, notice of their approach was sent to the commanding officer. the entire force of the garrison marched out to receive the prisoners. a large number of indians assembled to witness the scene--their gay dresses and wild appearance adding to its interest. sullen face and forked horn, with the sioux who had accompanied them, advanced to meet the battalion. the little boy dressed as a warrior, his war-eagle plumes waving proudly over his head, held his father's hand. in a moment the iron grasp of the soldier was on the prisoner's shoulder; they entered the gate of the fort; and he, who had felt that the winds of heaven were not more free than a dahcotah warrior, was now a prisoner in the power of the white man. but he entered not his cell until he had sung a warrior's song. should his enemies think that he feared them? had he not yielded himself up? it was hard to be composed in parting with his wife and child. "go my son," he said, "you will soon be old enough to kill the buffalo for your mother." but to his wife he only said, "i have done no wrong, and fear not the power of my enemies." the sissetons returned to the village, leaving the prisoners at fort snelling, until they should be sent to dubuque for trial. they frequently walked about the fort, accompanied by a guard. sullen face seemed to be indifferent to his fate, and was impressed with the idea that he never would return to his home. "beautiful country!" said he, as he gazed towards the point where the waters of the mississippi and st. peter's meet. "i shall never look upon you again, the waters of the rivers unite, but i have parted forever from country and friends. my spirit tells me so. then welcome death! they guard me now with sword and bayonet, but the soul of the dahcotah is free." after their removal to dubuque, the two prisoners from fort snelling, with others who had been concerned in the murder, suffered much from sickness. sullen face would not complain, but the others tried to induce him to make his escape. he, at first, refused to do so, but finding his companions determined upon going, he at last consented. their plans succeeded, and after leaving the immediate neighborhood, they broke their shackles with stones. they were obliged, however, to hide themselves for a time among the rocks, to elude the sheriff and his party. they were not taken, and as soon as they deemed it prudent, they resumed their route. two of the prisoners died near prairie du chien. sullen face, forked horn, and another sioux, pursued their journey with difficulty, for they were near perishing from want of food. they found a place where the winnebagoes had encamped, and they parched the corn that lay scattered on the ground. disease had taken a strong hold upon the frame of sullen face; he constantly required the assistance of his companions. when they were near prairie le gros, he became so ill that he was unable to proceed. he insisted upon his friends leaving him; this they at first refused to do, but fearing that they would be found and carried back to prison, they consented--and the dying warrior found himself alone. some indians who were passing by saw him and gently carried him to their wigwam. but he heeded not their kindness. death had dimmed the brightness of his eye, and his fast-failing strength told of the long journey to the spirits' land. "it was not thus," he said, "that i thought to die! where are the warriors of the sissetons? do they listen to my death song?" i hoped to have triumphed over the white man, but his power has prevailed. my spirit drooped within his hated walls? but hark! there is music in my ears--'tis the voice of the sister of my youth--"come with me my brother, we wait for you in the house of the spirits! we will sit by the banks of a lake more beautiful than that by which we wandered in our childhood; you will roam over the hunting grounds of your forefathers, and there the white man may never come." his eyes are closing fast in death, but his lips murmur--"wenona! i come! i come!" tonwa-yah-pe-kin; the spies. * * * * * chapter i. it was in the spring of , that several dahcotahs were carefully making their way along the forests near the borders of the chippeway country. there had recently been a fight near the spot where they were, and the dahcotahs were seeking the bodies of their friends who had been slain, that they might take them home to bury them. they moved noiselessly along, for their enemies were near. occasionally, one of them would imitate the cry of a bird or of some animal, so that if the attention of their enemies should be drawn to the spot, the slight noise they made in moving might be attributed to any but the right cause. they had almost given up the hope of finding their friends, and this was the close of their last day's efforts to that intent. in the morning they intended to return to their village. it was a bright clear evening, and the rays of the setting sun fell upon some objects further on. for a time the dahcotahs gazed in silence; but no movement gave sign of what it was that excited their curiosity. all at once there was a fearful foreboding; they remembered why they were there, and they determined to venture near enough to find out what was the nature of the object on which the rays of the sun seemed to rest as if to attract their notice. a few more steps and they were relieved from their terrible suspense, but their worst fears were realized. the dahcotahs recently killed had been skinned by the chippeways, while their bodies were yet warm with life, and the skins were stretched upon poles; while on separate poles the hands were placed, with one finger of each hand pointing to the dahcotah country. the savages were in a fearful rage. they had to endure a twofold insult. there were the bodies of their friends, treated as if they were but beasts, and evidently put there to be seen by the dahcotahs. and besides, the hands pointing to the country of the dahcotahs--did it not plainly say to the spies, go back to your country and say to your warriors, that the chippeways despise them, that they are not worthy to be treated as men? the spies returned as cautiously as they had ventured near the fatal spot, and it was not until they were out of reach of danger from their foes, that they gave vent to their indignation. then their smothered rage burst forth. they hastened to return and tell the event of their journey. they forgot how grieved the wives and sisters of the dead would be at being deprived of the solace of burying the remains of their friends--they only thought of revenge for the insult they had received. when they arrived at their village, they called together their chiefs and braves, and related to them what they had seen. a council of war was held, which resulted in immediate preparations being made to resent the indignity offered to their friends, and the insult to the whole tribe. the war-dance is always celebrated before a war party goes out to find an enemy, and there is in every village a war chief, who conducts the party. the war dance is performed inside of a wigwam, and not out of door, as is usually represented. the "owl" felt himself qualified in every respect to conduct the present party. he was a great warrior, and a juggler besides; and he had a reputation acquired from an act performed when he was a very young man, which showed as much cunning as bravery; for one of these qualities is as necessary to a dahcotah war chief as the other. he was one of a party of dahcotahs who went to war against the chippeways, but without success. on their way back "the owl" got separated from the rest of the party, and he climbed a tree to see if he could discover his comrades. while in the tree a war party of the chippeways came in sight and stopped quite near the tree to make their camp. the owl was in a sad predicament; he knew not what to do to effect his escape. as he knew he had not the power to contend with his enemies, he determined to have recourse to stratagem. when it was quite dark he commenced hooting like an owl, having previously transformed himself into one. the chippeways looked up towards the tree and asked the owl what he was doing there. the owl replied that he had come to see a large war party of dahcotahs who would soon pass by. the chippeways took the hint, and took to their heels too, and ran home. the owl then resumed his form, got down from the tree and returned home. this wonderful incident, which he related of himself, gave him a great reputation and a name besides; for until now he had been called chaskè, a name always given to the oldest son; but the indians after this gave him the name of the owl. it being decided that the war party should leave as soon as their preparations could be made, the war chief sent for those who were to dance. the dance was performed every third or, fourth night until the party left. for each dance the war chief had a hew set of performers; only so many were asked at a time as could conveniently dance inside the wigwam. while some were dancing, others were preparing for the expedition, getting extra mocassins made, drying meat, or parching corn. when all was ready, the party set out, with every confidence in their war chief. he was to direct them where to find the enemy, and at the same time to protect them from being killed themselves. for a few days they hunted as they went along, and they would build large fires at night, and tell long stories, to make the time pass pleasantly. the party was composed of about twenty warriors, and they all obeyed implicitly the orders of their war chief, who appointed some warriors to see that his directions were carried out by the whole party. wo to him who violates a single regulation! his gun is broken, his blanket cut to pieces, and he is told to return home. such was the fate of iron eyes, who wandered from the party to shoot a bird on the wing, contrary to the orders of their chief. but although disgraced and forbidden to join in the attempt to punish the chippeways for the outrage they had commited, he did not return to his village; he followed the tracks of the war party, determining to see the fun if he could not partake of it. on the fourth night after they left home, the warriors were all assembled to hear the war song of their chief. they were yet in their own country, seated on the edge of a prairie, and back of them as far as the eye could reach, there was nothing to be seen but the half melted snow; no rocks, no trees, relieved the sameness of the view. on the opposite side of the mississippi, high bluffs, with their worn sides and broken rocks, hung over the river; and in the centre of its waters lay the sacred isles, whose many trees and bushes wanted only the warm breath of summer to display their luxuriance. the war chief commenced. he prophesied that they would see deer on the next day, but that they must begin to be careful, for they would then have entered their enemies' country. he told them how brave they were, and that he was braver still. he told them the chippeways were worse than prairie dogs. to all of which the warriors responded, ho! when they found themselves near their enemies, the chief forbade a gun being fired off; no straggling was allowed; none but the spies were to go beyond a certain distance from the party. but after they entered the chippeway country the duties of the war chief were still more important. he had to prophesy where the enemy, was to be found, and about their number; and besides, he had to charm the spirits of their enemies, that they might be unable to contend with the dahcotahs. the spirits on this occasion took the form of a bear. about nine o'clock at night this ceremony commences. the warriors all lie down as if asleep, when the war chief signifies the approach of the spirits to his men, by the earnestness of his exertions in singing. the song continues, and increases in energy as the spirit gets nearer to the hole in the ground, which the chief dug and filled with water, previous to commencing his song. near this hole he placed a hoop, against which are laid all the war implements of the chief. before the song commences the warriors sit and look steadfastly at their leader. but when the spirit approaches this hole, the warriors hardly dare breathe, for fear of frightening it away. at last the spirit gets close to the hole. the war chief strikes it with his rattle and kills it; this ensures to the dahcotahs success in battle. and most solemnly did the owl assert to his soldiers, the fact that he had thus dealt with the bear spirit, while they as earnestly believed it. the next morning, four of the warriors went in advance as spies; one of them carried a pipe, presented as an offering to deceive the spirits of their enemies. about noon they sat down to rest, and waited until the remainder of the party came up. when they were all together again, they rested and smoked; and other spies were appointed, who took the pipe and went forward again. they had not proceeded far when they perceived signs of their enemies. in the sand near the borders of a prairie were the footprints of chippeways, and fresh too. they, congratulated each other by looks, too cautious even to whisper. in a few moments a hundred chippeways could be called up, but still the dahcotahs plunge into the thick forest that skirts the edge of the prairie, in order to find out what prospect they have for delighting themselves with the long wished for revenge. it was not long before a group of chippeways was discovered, all unapprehensive of evil. at their camp the chippeways had made pickets, for they knew they might expect retaliation; but those who fell a sacrifice were not expecting their foes. the spies were not far ahead--they returned to the party, and then retraced their steps. the low cries of animals were imitated to prevent any alarm being given by the breaking of a twig or the rustling of the leaves. they were very near the chippeways, when the war chief gave the signal on a bone whistle, and the dahcotahs fired. every one of the chippeways fell--two men, three women, and two children. then came the tomahawk and scalping knife--the former to finish the work of death, the latter to bear a trophy to their country, to say, our comrades are avenged. nor was that all. the bodies were cut to pieces, and then the warriors commenced their homeward journey. they allowed themselves but little rest until they were out of their enemies' country. but when they were out of the reach of attack, when their feet trod again upon dahcotah soil, then they stopped to stretch each scalp on a hoop, which was attached to a slender pole. this is always the work of the war chief. they look eagerly for the welcome sight of home. the cone-shaped teepees rise before their view. they know that their young wives will rejoice to see the scalps, as much as to know that the wanderers have returned. when they are near their village the war chief raises the song of victory; the other warriors join their voices to his. the welcome sound rouses the inhabitants of the village from their duties or amusements. the warriors enter the village in triumph, one by one, each bearing the scalp he took; and the stout warrior, the aged woman, and the feeble child, all press forward to feast their eyes with the sight of the scalps. there was a jubilee in the village for weeks. day and night did the savages dance round the scalps. but how soon may their rejoicings be lost in cries of terror! even now they tremble at the sound of their own voices when evening draws near--for it is their turn to suffer. they expect their foes, but they do not dread them the less. chapter ii. many of the customs of the dahcotahs are to be attributed to their superstitions. their teepees are always made of buffalo-skins; nothing would induce them to use deer-skin for that purpose. many years ago a woman made a teepee of deer-skin; and was taken suddenly ill, and died immediately after. some reason must be found for the cause of her death, and as no other was known, the indians concluded that she brought her death upon herself by using deer-skin for her teepee. they have always, since, used buffalo-skin for that purpose. nothing would induce a dahcotah woman to look into a looking-glass; for the medicine men say that death will be the consequence. but there is no superstition which influences them more than their belief in haokah, or the giant. they say this being is possessed of superhuman powers: indeed he is deemed so powerful, as to be able to take the thunder in his hand and cast it to the ground. he dresses in many colors, and wears a forked hat. one side of his face is red, the other blue, his eyes are also of different colors. he always carries a bow and arrow in his hand, but never has occasion to use it, as one look will kill the animal he wants. they sing songs to this giant, and once in a long time dance in honor of him; but so severe is the latter custom, that it is rarely performed. the following incident will show how great is their reverence for this singular being. an indian made a vapor bath, and placed inside of it a rude image of the giant, made of birch bark. this he intended to pray to while bathing. after the hot stone was placed inside of the wigwam, several indians went in to assist in giving the bath to their sick friend. one of them commenced pouring the water on the hot stone, and the water flew on the others, and scalded them badly; the image of the giant was also displaced; the indians never dreamed of attributing their burns to the natural cause, but concluded that the giant was displeased at their placing his image there, and they considered it as an instance of his mercy that they were not scalded to death. however defective may be the religion of the dahcotahs, they are faithful in acting up to all its requirements. every feast and custom among them is celebrated as a part of their religion. after the scalp-dance had been performed long enough, the dahcotahs of the villages turned their attention to making sugar. many groves of sugar trees were in sight of their village, and on this occasion the generous sap rewarded their labors. nor were they ungrateful; for when the medicine men announced that they must keep the sugar-feast, all left their occupation, anxious to celebrate it. neither need it be concluded that this occasioned them no loss of time; for they were all occupied with the construction of their summer wigwams, which are made of the bark of trees, which must be peeled off in the spring. but every villager assembled to keep the feast. a certain quantity of sugar was dealt out to each individual, and any one of them who could not eat all that was given him was obliged to pay leggins, or a blanket, or something valuable, to the medicine man. on this occasion, indeed on most occasions, the dahcotahs have no difficulty in disposing of any quantity of food. when the feast was over, however, the skill of their doctors was in requisition; for almost all of them were made quite ill by excess, and were seen at evening lying at full length on the ground, groaning and writhing with pain. chapter iii. the day after the sugar feast, the owl told his wife to get ready her canoe, as he wanted to spear some fish. she would rather have staid at home, as she was not fully recovered from her last night's indisposition. but there was no hesitating when the war chief spoke; so she placed her child upon her back, and seated herself in the stern of the canoe, paddling gently along the shore where the fish usually lie. her husband stood in the bow of the canoe with a spear about six feet in length. as he saw the fish lying in the water, he threw the spear into them, still keeping hold of it. when the war chief was tired, his wife would stop paddling, and nurse her child while he smoked. if the owl were loquaciously inclined, he would point out to his wife the place where he shot a deer, or where he killed the man who had threatened his life. indeed, if you took his word for it, there was not a foot of ground in the country which had not been a scene of some exploit. the woman believed them all; for, like a good wife, she shone by the reflected light of her husband's fame. when they returned home, she made her fire and put the fish to cook, and towards evening many of the indians were assembled in the wigwam of the war-chief, and partook of the fish he had caught in the morning. "unk-ta-he," [footnote: the god of the waters] said one of the oldest men in the tribe (and reverenced as a medicine man of extraordinary powers), "unk-ta-he is as powerful as the thunder-bird. each wants to be the greatest god of the dahcotahs, and they have had many battles. my father was a great medicine man; he was killed many years ago, and his spirit wandered about the earth. the thunder-bird wanted him, and unk-ta-he wanted him, for they said he would make a wonderful medicine man. some of the sons of unk-ta-he fought against the sons of the thunder, and the young thunder-birds were killed, and then unk-ta-he took the spirit of my father, to teach him many mysterious things. "when my father had lived a long time with unk-ta-he in the waters under the earth, he took the form of a dahcotah again, and lived in this village. he taught me all that i know, and when i go to the land of spirits, my son must dance alone all night, and he will learn from me the secret of the medicine of our clan." all listened attentively to the old man, for not an indian there but believed that he could by a spell cause their instant death; and many wonderful miracles had the "elk" wrought in his day. in the corner of the wigwam sat the bound spirit, whose vacant look told the sad tale of her want of reason. generally she sat quiet, but if the cry of an infant fell upon her ear, she would start, and her shriek could be heard throughout the village. the bound spirit was a sisseton. in the depth of winter, she had left her village to seek her friends in some of the neighboring bands. she was a widow, and there was no one to provide her food. accompanied by several other indians, she left her home, which was made wretched by her desolate condition--that home where she had been very happy while her husband lived. it had since been the scene of her want and misery. the small portion of food they had taken for their journey was exhausted. rejoiced would they have been to have had the bark of trees for food; but they were on the open prairie. there was nothing to satisfy the wretched cravings of hunger, and her child--the very child that clung to her bosom--was killed by the unhappy mother, and its tender limbs supplied to her the means of life. she reached the place of destination, but it was through instinct, for forgetting and forgotten by all was the wretched maniac who entered her native village. the indians feared her; they longed to kill her, but were afraid to do so. they said she had no heart. sometimes she would go in the morning to the shore, and there, with only her head out of water, would she lie all day. now, she has been weeping over the infant who sleeps by her. she is perfectly harmless, and the wife of the war chief kindly gives her food and shelter whenever she wishes it. but it is not often she eats--only when desperate from long fasting--and when her appetite is satisfied, she seems to live over the scene, the memory of which has made her what she is. after all but she had eaten of the fish, the elk related to them the story of the large fish that obstructed the passage of the st. croix river. the scene of this tradition was far from them, but the dahcotahs tell each other over and over again the stories which have been handed down from their fathers, and these incidents are known throughout the tribe. "two dahcotahs went to war against their enemies. on returning home, they stopped at the lake st. croix, hungry and much fatigued. "one of them caught a fish, cooked it, and asked his comrade to eat, but he refused. the other argued with him, and begged of him to eat, but still he declined. "the owner of the fish continued to invite his friend to partake of it, until he, wearied by his importunities, consented to eat, but added with a mysterious look, 'my friend, i hope you will not get out of patience with me.' after saying this, he ate heartily of the fish. "he then seemed to be very thirsty, and asked his companion to bring him some water out of the lake; he did so, but very soon the thirst, which was quenched for a time only, returned; more was given him, but the terrible thirst continued, and at last the indian, who had begged his companion to eat, began to be tired of bringing him water to drink. he therefore told him he would bring him no more, and requested him to go down to the water and drink. he did so, and after drinking a great quantity, while his friend was asleep, he turned himself into a large fish and stretched himself full length across the st. croix. "this fish for a long time obstructed the passage of the st. croix; so much so that the indians were obliged to go round it by land. "some time ago the indians were on a hunting excursion up the river, and when they got near the fish a woman of the party darted ahead in her canoe. "she made a dish of bark, worked the edges of it very handsomely, filled it with water, and placed some red down in it. she then placed the dish near the fish in the river, and entreated the fish to go to its own elements, and not to obstruct the passage of the river and give them so much trouble. "the fish obeyed, and settled down in the water, and has never since been seen. "the woman who made this request of the fish, was loved by him when he was a dahcotah, and for that reason he obeyed her wishes." nor was this the only legend with which he amused his listeners. the night was half spent when they separated to rest, with as firm a faith in the stories of the old medicine man, as we have in the annals of the revolution. [illustration] the maiden's rock; or, wenona's leap. lake pepin is a widening of the mississippi river. it is about twenty miles in length, and from one to two miles wide. the country along its banks is barren. the lake has little current, but is dangerous for steamboats in a high wind. it is not deep, and abounds in fish, particularly the sturgeon. on its shores the traveller gathers white and red agates, and sometimes specimens streaked with veins of gold color. the lover reads the motto from his mistress' seal, not thinking that the beautiful stone which made the impression, was found on the banks of lake pepin. at the south end of the lake, the chippeway river empties into the mississippi. the maiden's rock is a high bluff, whose top seems to lean over towards the water. with this rock is associated one of the most interesting traditions of the sioux. but the incident is well-known. almost every one has read it a dozen times, and always differently told. some represent the maiden as delivering an oration from the top of the rock, long enough for an address at a college celebration. it has been stated that she fell into the water, a circumstance which the relative situation of the rock and river would render impossible. writers have pretended, too, that the heroine of the rock was a winnebago. it is a mistake, the maiden was a dahcotah. it was from the dahcotahs that i obtained the incident, and they believe that it really occurred. they are offended if you suggest the possibility of its being a fiction. indeed they fix a date to it, reckoning by the occurrences of great battles, or other events worthy of notice. but to the story--and i wish i could throw into it the feeling, and energy of the old medicine woman who related it. about one hundred and fifty years ago, the band of dahcotahs to which wenona belonged, lived near fort snelling. their village was on the site now occupied by good road's band. the whole band made preparations to go below lake pepin, after porcupines. these animals are of great value among the dahcotahs; their flesh is considered excellent as an article of food, and the women stain their quills to ornament the dresses of the men, their mocassins, and many other articles in use among them. a young girl of this band had received repeated offers of marriage from a dahcotah, whom she hated with the same degree of intensity that she loved his rival. she dared not marry the object of her choice, for she knew it would subject herself and him to the persecutions of her family. she declared she never would consent to be the wife of the man whom her parents had chosen for her, though he was young and brave, and, what is most valued by the friends of an indian girl, he was said to be the best hunter of the tribe. "marry him, my daughter," said the mother, "your father is old; he cannot now hunt deer for you and me, and what shall we do for food? chaskè will hunt the deer and buffalo, and we shall be comfortable and happy." "yes," said her father, "your mother speaks well. chaskè is a great warrior too. when your brother died, did he not kill his worst enemy and hang up his scalp at his grave?" but wenona persevered in her refusal. "i do not love him, i will not marry him," was her constant reply. but chaskè, trusting to time and her parent's influence, was not discouraged. he killed game and supplied the wants of the family. besides, he had twice bought her, according to indian custom. he had given her parents cloth and blankets, calico and guns. the girl entreated them not to receive them, but the lover refused to take them back, and, finally, they were taken into the wigwam. just as the band was about leaving the village for the hunt, he came again with many presents; whatever would make the family comfortable on their journey, and a decided promise was then given that the maiden should become his wife. she knew it would be useless to contend, so she seemed to be willing to submit to her fate. after encamping for a time opposite the maiden's rock to rest from their journey, the hunters determined to go further down the river. they had crossed over to the other side, and were seated nearly under the rock. their women were in their canoes coming over, when suddenly a loud cry was heard from an old woman, the mother of wenona. the canoe had nearly reached the shore, and the mother continued to shriek, gazing at the projecting rock. the indians eagerly inquired of her what was the matter? "do you not see my daughter?" she said; "she is standing close to the edge of the rock!" she was there indeed, loudly and wildly singing her dirge, an invocation to the spirit of the rock, calm and unconcerned in her dangerous position, while all was terror and excitement among her friends below her. the hunters, so soon as they perceived her, hastily ascended the bluff, while her parents called to her and entreated her to go back from the edge of the rock. "come down to us, my child," they cried; "do not destroy your life; you will kill us, we have no child but you." having finished her song, the maiden answered her parents. "you have forced me to leave you. i was always a good daughter, and never disobeyed you; and could i have married the man i love, i should have been happy, and would never have left you. but you have been cruel to me; you have turned my beloved from the wigwam; you would have forced me to marry a man i hated; i go to the house of spirits." by this time the hunters had nearly reached her. she turned towards them for a moment with a smile of scorn, as if to intimate to them that their efforts were in vain. but when they were quite near, so that they held out their arms towards her in their eagerness to draw her from her dangerous station, she threw herself from the rock. the first blow she received from the side of the rock must have killed her, for she fell like a dead bird, amidst the shouts of the hunters above, and the shrieks of the women below. her body was arrayed in her handsomest clothing, placed upon a scaffold, and afterwards buried. but the dahcotahs say that her spirit does not watch over her earthly remains; for her spirit was offended when she brought trouble upon her aged mother and father. such is the story told by the dahcotahs; and why not apply to them for their own traditions? neither is there any reason to doubt the actual occurrence of the incident. not a season passes away but we hear of some dahcotah girl who puts an end to her life in consequence of jealousy, or from the fear of being forced to marry some one she dislikes. a short time ago a very young girl hung herself, rather than become the wife of a man who was already the husband of one of her sisters. the parents told her they had promised her, and insisted upon her fulfilling the engagement. even her sister did not object, nay, rather seemed anxious to forward the scheme, which would give her a rival from among her nearest relations. the young girl finally ran away, and the lover, leaving his wife, pursued the fugitive, and soon overtook her. he renewed his entreaties, and finding her still obstinate, he told her that she should become his wife, and that he would kill her if she made any more trouble. this last argument seemed to have the desired effect, for the girl expressed her willingness to return home. after they arrived, the man went to his wigwam to tell his wife of the return of her sister, and that everything was now in readiness for their marriage. but one hour after, the girl was missing; and when found, was hanging to a tree, forever free from the power of her tormentors. her friends celebrated the ceremonies of death instead of marriage. it must be conceded that an indian girl, when desperate with her love affairs, chooses a most unromantic way of ending her troubles. she almost invariably hangs herself; when there are so many beautiful lakes near her where she could die an easier death, and at the same time one that would tell better, than where she fastens an old leather strap about her neck, and dies literally by choking. but there is this to be taken into consideration. when she hangs herself near the village, she can manage affairs so that she can be cut down if she concludes to live a little longer; for this frequently occurs, and the suicide lives forty and sometimes sixty years after. but when wenona took the resolution of ending her earthly sorrows, no doubt there were other passions beside love influencing her mind. love was the most powerful. with him she loved, life would have been all happiness--without him, all misery. such was the reasoning of her young heart. but she resented the importunity of the hunter whose pretensions her parents favored. how often she had told him she would die before she would become his wife; and he would smile, as if he had but little faith in the words of a woman. now he should see that her hatred to him was not assumed; and she would die such a death that he might know that she feared neither him nor a death of agony. and while her parents mourned their unkindness, her lover would admire that firmness which made death more welcome than the triumph of his rival. and sacred is the spot where the devoted girl closed her earthly sorrows. spirits are ever hovering near the scene. the laugh of the dahcotah is checked when his canoe glides near the spot. he points to the bluff, and as the shades of evening are throwing dimness and a mystery around the beauty of the lake, and of the mountains, he fancies he can see the arms of the girl as she tosses them wildly in the air. some have averred they heard her voice as she called to the spirits of the rock, and ever will the traveller, as he passes the bluff, admire the wondrous beauty of the picture, and remember the story of the lover's leap. there is a tradition among the dahcotahs which fixes a date to the incident, as well as to the death of the rival lovers of wenona. they say that it occurred about the time stated, and that the band of indians went and obtained the porcupines, and then they returned and settled on the st. croix river. shortly after the tragical death of wenona, the band went again down the mississippi, and they camped at what they call the medicine wood. here a child died, and the body was laid on a scaffold. the father in the middle of the night went out to mourn for his child. while he leant against the scaffold weeping, he saw a man watching him. the stranger did not appear to be a dahcotah, and the mourner was alarmed, and returned to the camp. in the morning he told the indians of the circumstance, and they raised the camp and went into the pine country. the body of the child was carried along, and in he night the father went out again to lament its death. the same figure appeared to him, and again he returned, alarmed at the circumstance. in the morning the indians moved their camp again, and at night the same occurrence took place. the dahcotahs are slaves to superstition, and they now dreaded a serious evil. their fears were not confirmed in the way they anticipated, for their foes came bodily, and when daylight appeared, one thousand chippeway warriors appeared before them, and the shrill whistle and terrible whoop of war was heard in earnest. dreadful were the shouts of the chippeways, for the dahcotahs were totally unprepared for them, and many were laid low at the first discharge of the rifles. the merciless chippeways continued the work of death. the women and children fled to their canoes, but the chippeways were too quick for them; and they only entered their canoes to meet as certain a fate as those who remained. the women had not their paddles with them, and there was an eddy in the current; as soon as the canoe was pushed from the shore, it would whirl round, and the delighted chippeways caught the canoes, and pulled them ashore again, while others let fall upon their victims the uplifted tomahawk. when the chippeways had killed until they were tired they took what they wanted from the sioux camp, and started for home, taking one dahcotah boy prisoner. the party had not travelled far, when a number of dahcotahs attacked the chippeways, but the latter succeeded in killing many of the dahcotahs. one of the latter fled, and was in his canoe on the lake st. croix, when the chippeways suddenly came upon him. the little dahcotah saw his only chance for liberty--he plunged in the water and made for the canoe of the dahcotah. in a moment he had reached and entered it, and the two dahcotahs were out of sight before the arrows of their enemies could reach them. a very few of that band escaped; one of them says that when they were first attacked by the chippeways, he saw he had but one chance, so he dived down to the bottom of the river, and the chippeways could not see him. he found the water at the bottom of the river very cold, and when he had gone some distance, he ventured where the water was warmer, which he knew was near the shore. he then came out of the water and made his escape. even this latter trifling incident has been handed down from father to son, and is believed universally by the dahcotahs. and according to their tradition, the lovers and family of wenona perished in this battle. at all events, there is no one who can prove that their tradition or my translation may not be true. the indian in a trance. * * * * * about forty years ago, ahak-tah, "the male elk," was taken sick with a sore throat. it was in the winter too, and sickness and cold together are hard to bear. want was an evil from which they were suffering; though the dahcotahs were not so poor then as they are now. they had not given so much of their lands to the white people; and they depended more upon their own exertions for support than they do at present. the medicine men did all they could to cure ahaktah; they tried to charm away the animal that had entered into his body; they used the sacred rattle. but ahaktah's throat got worse; he died, and while his wives and children wept for him, he had started on his long journey to the land of spirits. he was wrapped in scarlet cloth, and laid upon a scaffold. his wives sat weeping in their teepee, when a cry from their young children drew their attention to the door. there stood he for whom they mourned. the dead man again took his place among those who sat beside the household fire. tears of grief were shed no more--food was given to ahaktah, and when he was refreshed he thus addressed his wondering family:-- "while you were weeping for me, my spirit was on its way to the great city where our fathers, who have taught us all the wonders of our sacred medicine, of haokah the giant, and of the thunder bird, are now living. twice has the sun ceased to shine since i left you, and in that short time i have seen many strange things. first, i passed through a beautiful country; the forest-trees were larger than any you have ever seen. birds of all colors filled them, and their music was as loud as when our medicine men play for us to celebrate the scalp dance. the broad river was full of fish, and the loon screamed as she swam across the lakes. i had no difficulty in finding my way, for there was a road through this country. it seemed as if there must have been many travellers there, though i saw no one. "this great road was made by the spirits of those who were killed in battle. no warrior, however brave he may have been, has ever assisted in making this road, except those who sang their death songs under the tomahawk of their enemies. neither did any woman ever assist. she is not considered worthy to touch the war implements of a dahcotah warrior, and she was not permitted to do anything towards completing the path in which the braves of the dahcotahs would walk, when they joined their forefathers in the land of spirits. "as i pursued my journey, i saw near the banks of the river a teepee; i entered it, and saw paint and all that a warrior needed to dress himself in order to be fit to enter the city of spirits. i sat down and plaited my hair, i put vermilion on my cheeks, and arranged the war-eagle feathers in my head. here, i said to myself, did my father rest when he was on the same journey. i was tired, but i could not wait--i longed to see my friends who had travelled this path before me--i longed to tell them that the dahcotahs were true to the customs of their forefathers--i longed to tell them that we had drunk deep of the blood of the chippeways, that we had eaten the hearts of our enemies, that we had torn their infants from their mothers' breasts, and dashed them to the earth. "i continued my journey, looking eagerly around me to see some one, but all was desolate; and beautiful as everything was, i would have been glad to have seen the face of a friend. "it was evening when a large city burst upon my sight. the houses were built regularly on the shores of the river. as far as i could see, the homes of the spirits of my forefathers were in view. "but still i saw no one. i descended the hill towards the river, which i must cross to reach the city of spirits. i saw no canoe, but i feared nothing, i was so near my journey's end. the river was wide and deep, and the waves were swiftly following one another, when i plunged among them; soon i reached the opposite shore, and as i again stood on the land, i heard some one cry, 'here he comes! here he comes!' i approached the nearest house and entered; everything looked awful and mysterious. "in the corner of the room sat a figure whom i recognized. it was my mother's brother, flying wind, the medicine man. i remembered him, for it was he who taught me to use my bow and arrow. "in a bark dish, in the corner of the room, was some wild rice. i was very hungry, for i had not eaten since i left the earth. i asked my uncle for some rice to eat, but he did not give it to me. had i eaten of the food for spirits, i never should have returned to earth. "at last my uncle spoke to me. `my nephew,' said he, 'why are you travelling without a bow and arrow? how can you provide yourself with food when you have no means of killing game? when my home was on the mississippi, the warriors of the dahcotahs were never without their bows and arrows--either to secure their food or to strike to the hearts of their enemies.' "i then remembered that i had been travelling without my bow and arrows. `but where,' said i to my uncle, `where are the spirits of my forefathers? where is my brother who fell under the tomahawk of his enemy? where is my sister who threw herself into the power of unktahe, rather than to live and see her rival the wife of the sun? where are the spirits of the dahcotah braves whose deeds are still told from father to son among us?' "'the dahcotah braves are still watching for their enemies--the hunters are bringing in the deer and the buffalo--our women are planting corn and tanning deer-skin. but you will not now see them; your step is firm and your eye is bright; you must return to earth, and when your limbs are feeble, when your eye is dim, then will you return and find your home in the city of spirits.' "so saying, he arose and gave me a bow and arrow. i took it, and while trying it i left the house; but how i do not know. "the next thing that i remember was being seated on the top of the cliffs of eagle's nest, below lake pepin. i heard a sound, and soon distinguished my mother's voice; she was weeping. i knew that she was bending over my body. i could see her as she cut off her hair, and i felt sad when i heard her cry, 'my son! my son!' then i recollect being on the top of the half-side mountain on lake pepin. afterwards i was on the mountain near red wing's village, and again i stood on a rock, on a point of land near where the waters of the mississippi and st. peter's meet, on the 'maiden's jumping rock;' [footnote: near fort snelling is a high rock called the maiden's jumping rock; where formerly the dahcotah girls used to jump for amusement, a distance of many feet from the top to the ground.] here i recovered my right mind." the daughter of ahaktah says that her father retained the "wahkun" bow and arrow that was given him by his uncle, and that he was always successful in hunting or in war; that he enjoyed fine health, and lived to be a very old man; and she is living now to tell the story. oeche-monesah; the wanderer. * * * * * chaskè was tired of living in the village, where the young men, finding plenty of small game to support life, and yielding to the languor and indolence produced by a summer's sun, played at checker's, or drank, or slept, from morn till night, and seemed to forget that they were the greatest warriors and hunters in the world. this did very well for a time; but, as i said, chaskè got tired of it. so he determined to go on a long journey, where he might meet with some adventures. early one morning he shouldered his quiver of arrows, and drawing out one arrow from the quiver, he shot it in the direction he intended to go. "now," said he, "i will follow my arrow." but it seemed as if he were destined never to find it, for morning and noon had passed away, and the setting sun warned him, not only of the approach of night, but of musquitoes too. he thought he would build a fire to drive the musquitoes away; besides, he was both hungry and tired, though he had not yet found his arrow, and had nothing to eat. when he was hesitating as to what he should do, he saw in the bushes a dead elk, and behold! his arrow was sticking in its side. he drew the arrow out, then cut out the tongue, and after making a fire, he put the tongue upon a stick to roast. but while the tongue was roasting, chaskè fell asleep and slept many hours. at day-break a woman came up to him and shook him, as if to awake him. chaskè started and rubbed his eyes, and the woman pointed to the path which led across the prairies. was he dreaming? no, he felt sure he was awake. so he got up and followed the woman. he thought it very strange that the woman did not speak to him. "i will ask her who she is," said he; but as he turned to address her she raised her arms in the air, and changing her form to that of a beautiful bird, blue as the sky that hangs over the morning's mist, she flew away. chaskè was surprised and delighted too. he loved adventures; had he not left home to seek them? so he pursued his journey, quite forgetting his supper, which was cooking when he fell asleep. he shot his arrow off again and followed it. it was late in the evening when he found it, and then it was in the heart of a moose. "i will not be cheated out of my supper to-night," said he; so he cut the tongue out of the moose and placed it before the fire to roast. hardly had he seated himself to smoke, when sleep overcame him, and he knew nothing until morning, when a woman approached and shook him as before, pointing to the path. he arose quickly and followed her; and as he touched her arm, determined to find out who she was, she, turning upon him a brow black as night, was suddenly changed into a crow. the dahcotah was completely puzzled. he had never cared for women; on the contrary, had avoided them. he never wasted his time telling them they were beautiful, or playing on the flute to charm their senses. he thought he had left all such things behind him, but already had he been twice baffled by a woman. still he continued his journey. he had this consolation, the dahcotah girls did not turn into birds and fly away. at least there was the charm of novelty in the incidents. the next day he killed a bear, but as usual he fell asleep while the tongue was roasting, and this time he was waked by a porcupine. the fourth day he found his arrow in a buffalo. "now," said he, "i will eat at last, and i will find out, too, who and what it is that wakes me." but he fell asleep as usual, and was waked in the morning by a female who touched him lightly and pointed to the path. her back was turned towards him, and instead of rising to follow her, he caught her in his arms, determined to see and talk with her. finding herself a prisoner, the girl turned her face to him, and chaskè had never seen anything so beautiful. her skin was white as the fairest flower that droops its head over the banks of the "lac qui parle." her hair was not plaited, neither was it black like the dahcotah maidens', but it hung in golden ringlets about her face and neck. the warm blood tinted her cheeks as she met the ardent gaze of the dahcotah, and chaskè could not ask her who she was. how could he speak when his heart was throbbing, and every pulse beating wildly? "let me go," said the girl; "why do you seek to detain me? i am a beaver-woman, [footnote: according to the wise men of the dahcotahs, beavers and bears have souls. they have many traditions about bear and beaver-women] and you are a dahcotah warrior. turn from me and find a wife among the dark-faced maidens of your tribe." "i have always despised them," said the dahcotah, "but you are more beautiful than the spirits of the water. i love you, and will make you my wife." "then you must give up your people," replied the girl, "for i cannot live as the dahcotah women. come with me to my white lodge, and we will be happy; for see the bright water as it falls on the rocks. we will sit by its banks during the heat of the day, and when we are tired, the music of its waves will lull us to sleep." so she took chaskè by the hand, and they walked on till they came to an empty white lodge, and there they lived and were very happy. they were still happier when their little boy began to play about the lodge; for although they loved each other very much, still it was lonely where they lived, and the child was company for them both. there was one thing, however, that troubled the dahcotah; he could not turn his mind from it, and day after day passed without relieving him from his perplexity. his beautiful wife never ate with him. when he returned in the evening from hunting, she was always glad to see him, and while he rested himself and smoked, she would cook his meat for him, and seem anxious to make him comfortable. but he had never seen her eat; and when he would tell her that he did not like to eat alone, and beg her to sit down and eat with him, she would say she was not hungry; and then employ herself about her wigwam, as if she did not wish him to say any more about it. chaskè made up his mind that he would find out what his wife lived upon. so the next morning he took his bow and arrows, as if he were going out on a day's hunt. after going a short distance from the lodge, he hid himself in the trees, where he could watch the motions of his wife. she left the lodge after a while, and with an axe in her hand she approached a grove of poplar trees. after carefully looking round to satisfy herself that there was no one near, she cut down a number of the small and tender poplars, and, carrying them home, ate them as if she enjoyed them very much. chaskè was infinitely relieved when he saw that his wife did eat; for it frightened him to think that she lived on nothing but air. but it was so droll to think she should eat young trees! surely venison was a great deal better. but, like a good husband, he thought it was his duty to humor his wife's fancies. and then he loved her tenderly--he had given up country and home for her. she was so good and kind, and her beautiful hair! chaskè called her "the mocassin flower," for her golden ringlets reminded him of that beautiful flower. "she shall not have to cut the trees down herself," said chaskè, "i will bring her food while she prepares mine." so he went out to hunt, and returned in the evening; and while his wife was cooking his supper, he went to the poplar grove and cut a number of young trees; he then brought them to the lodge, and, laying them down, he said to his wife, "i have found out at last what you like." no one would suppose but that the beaver-woman would have been grateful to her husband for thinking of her. instead of that, she was very angry; and, taking her child in her arms, she left the lodge. chaskè was astonished to see his gentle wife angry, but he concluded he would eat his supper, and then follow her, hoping that in the meantime she would recover her good temper. when he went out, she was nowhere to be seen. he called her--he thought at first that she had hid herself. but, as night came on, and neither she nor the child returned, the deserted husband grew desperate; he could not stay in his lodge, and the only thing that he could do was to start in search of her. he walked all night, but saw no trace of her. about sunrise he came to a stream, and following it up a little way he came to a beaver dam, and on it sat his wife with her child in her arms. and beautiful she looked, with her long tresses falling into the water. chaskè was delighted to find her. "why did you leave me?" called he. "i should have died of grief if i had not found you." "did i not tell you that i could not live like the dahcotah women?" replied mocassin flower. "you need not have watched me to find out what i eat. return to your own people; you will find there women enough who eat venison." the little boy clapped his hands with delight when he saw his father, and wanted to go to him; but his mother would not let him. she tied a string to his leg and told him to go, and the child would plunge into the water, and when he had nearly reached the shore where his father sat, then would the beaver-woman draw him back. in the meantime the dahcotah had been trying to persuade his wife to come to him, and return to the lodge; but she refused to do so, and sat combing her long hair. the child had cried itself to sleep; and the dahcotah, worn out with fatigue and grief, thought he would go to sleep too. after a while a woman came and touched him on the shoulder, and awaked him as of old. he started and looked at her, and perceiving it was not his wife, felt inclined to take little notice of her. "what," said she, "does a dahcotah warrior still love a woman who hates him?" "mocassin flower loves me well," replied the dahcotah; "she has been a good wife." "yes," replied the woman, "she was for a time; but she sighs to return home--her heart yearns towards the lover of her youth." chaskè was very angry. "can this be true?" he said; and he looked towards the beaver dam where his wife still sat. in the meantime the woman who had waked him, brought him some food in bark dishes worked with porcupine. "eat," she said to the dahcotah; "you are hungry." but who can tell the fury that mocassin flower was in when she saw that strange woman bringing her husband food. "who are you," she cried, "that are troubling yourself about my husband? i know you well; you are the 'bear-woman.'" "and if i am," said the bear woman, "do not the souls of the bears enjoy forever the heaven of the dahcotah?" poor chaskè! he could not prevent their quarrelling, so, being very hungry, he soon disposed of what the bear woman had brought him. when he had done eating, she took the bark dishes. "come with me," she said; "you cannot live in the water, and i will take you to a beautiful lodge, and we will be happy." the dahcotah turned to his wife, but she gave him no encouragement to remain. "well," said he, "i always loved adventures, and i will go and seek some more." the new wife was not half so pretty as the old one. then she was so wilful, and ordered him about--as if women were anything but dogs in comparison with a dahcotah warrior. yes, he who had scorned the dahcotah girls, as they smiled upon him, was now the slave of a bear-woman; but there was one comfort--there were no warriors to laugh at him. for a while they got on well enough. his wife had twin children--one was a fine young dahcotah, and the other was a smart active little bear, and it was very amusing to see them play together. but in all their fights the young dahcotah had the advantage; though the little bear would roll and tumble, and stick his claws into the dahcotah, yet it always ended by the little bear's capering off and roaring after his mother. perhaps this was the reason, but for some reason or other the mother did not seem contented and happy. one morning she woke up very early, and while telling her husband that she had a bad dream, the dog commenced barking outside the lodge. "what can be the matter?" said chaskè. "oh!" said the woman, "i know; there is a hunter out there who wants to kill me, but i am not afraid." so saying, she put her head out of the door, which the hunter seeing, shot his arrow; but instead of hurting her, the arrow fell to the ground, and the bear-woman catching up her little child, ran away and was soon out of sight. "ha!" said chaskè, "i had better have married a dahcotah girl, for they do not run away from their husbands except when another wife comes to take their place. but i have been twice deserted." so saying, he took the little dahcotah in his arms, and followed his wife. towards evening he came up with her, but she did not seem glad to see him. he asked her why she left him; she replied, "i want to live with my own people." "well," said the dahcotah, "i will go with you." the woman consented, though it was plain she did not want him; for she hated her dahcotah child, and would not look at him. after travelling a few days, they approached a grove of trees, which grew in a large circle. "do you see that nest of trees?" said the woman. "there is the great village of the bears. there are many young men there that loved me, and they will hate you because i preferred you to them. take your boy, then, and return to your people." but the dahcotah feared not, and they approached the village of the bears. there was a great commotion among the bears as they discovered them. they were glad to see the young bear-woman back again, but they hated the dahcotah, and determined on his death. however, they received him hospitably, conducted him and his wife to a large lodge, gave them food, and the tired travellers were soon asleep. but the dahcotah soon perceived he was among enemies, and he kept a careful look out upon them. the little dahcotah was always quarrelling with the young bears; and on one occasion, being pretty hungry, a cub annoying him at the time very much, he deliberately shot the cub with his bow and arrow, and ate him up. this aroused the vengeance of the bears; they had a consultation among themselves, and swore they would kill both father and son. it would be impossible to tell of the troubles of chaskè. his wife, he could see, loved one of the bears, and was anxious for his own death; but whenever he contended with the bears he came off victor. whether in running a foot race, or shooting with a bow and arrow, or whatever it might be, he always won the prize, and this made his enemies still more venomous. four years had now passed since chaskè left his native village, and nothing had ever been heard of him. but at length the wanderer returned. but who would have recognized, in the crest-fallen, melancholy-looking indian, the gay warrior that had left home but a few years before? the little boy that held his hand was cheerful enough, and seemed to recognize acquaintances, instead of looking for the first time on the faces of his father's friends. how did the young girls laugh when he told of the desertion of his first wife; but when he continued his story, and told them of the faithlessness of the bear woman also, you heard nothing but shouts of derision. was it not a triumph for the dahcotah women? how had he scorned them before he went away!--did he not say that women were only dogs, or worse than dogs? but there was one among his old acquaintances who would not join in the laughter. as she looked on the care-worn countenance of the warrior, she would fain have offered to put new mocassins upon his feet, and bring him food. but she dared not subject herself to the ridicule of her companions--though as night came on, she sought him when there was no one to heed her. "chaskè," she called--and the dahcotah turned hastily towards her, attracted by the kindness of her voice--"there are no women who love as the dahcotah women. i would have gone to the ends of the earth with you, but you despised me. you have come back, and are laughed at. care has broken your spirit, or you would not submit to the sneers of your old friends, and the contempt of those who once feared you. i will be your wife, and, mingling again in the feasts and customs of your race, you will soon be the bold and fearless warrior that you were when you left us." and her words were true; for the indians soon learned that they were not at liberty to talk to chaskè of his wanderings. he never spoke of his former wives, except to compare them with his present, who was as faithful and obedient as they were false and troublesome. "and he. found," says chequered cloud, "that there was no land like the dahcotah's, no river like the father of waters, and no happiness like that of following the deer across the open prairies, or of listening, in the long summer days, to the wisdom of the medicine men." and she who had loved him in his youth, and wept for him in his absence, now lies by his side--for chaskè has taken another long journey. death has touched him, but not lightly, and pointed to the path which leads to the land of spirits--and he did not go alone; for her life closed with and together their spirits watch over the mortal frames that they once tenanted. "look at the white woman's life," said chequered cloud, as she concluded the story of chaskè, "and then at the dahcotah's. you sleep on a soft bed, while the dahcotah woman lays her head upon the ground, with only her blanket for a covering; when you are hungry you eat, but for days has the dahcotah woman wanted for food, and there was none to give it. your children are happy, and fear nothing; ours have crouched in the earth at night, when the whoop and yell of the chippeways sent terror to their young hearts, and trembling to their tender limbs. "and when the fire-water of the white man has maddened the senses of the dahcotah, so that the blow of his war club falls upon his wife instead of his enemy, even then the dahcotah woman must live and suffer on." "but, chequered cloud, the spirit of the dahcotah watches over the body which remains on earth. did you not say the soul went to the house of spirits?" "the dahcotah has four souls," replied the old woman; "one wanders about the earth, and requires food; another protects the body; the third goes to the land of spirits, while the fourth forever hovers around his native village." "i wish," said i, "that you would believe in the god of the white people. you would then learn that there is but one soul, and that that soul will be rewarded for the good it has done in this life, or punished for the evil." "the great spirit," she replied, "is the god of the dahcotah. he made all things but thunder and wild rice. when we do wrong we are punished in this world. if we do not live up to the laws of our forefathers, the spirits of the dead will punish us. we must keep up the customs of our tribe. if we are afraid that the thunder will strike us, we dance in honor of it, and destroy its power. our great medicine feasts are given in honor of our sacred medicine, which will not only heal the sick, but will preserve us in danger; and we make feasts for the dead. "our children are taught to do right. they are not to injure one who has not harmed them; but where is the dahcotah who will not rejoice as he takes the life of his enemy?" "but," said i, "you honor the thunder, and yet it strikes you. what is the thunder, and where does it come from?" "thunder is a large bird, flying through the air; its bright tracks are seen in the heavens, before you hear the clapping of its wings. but it is the young ones who do the mischief. the parent bird would not hurt a dahcotah. long ago a thunder bird fell dead from the heavens; and our fathers saw it as it lay not far from little crow's village. "it had a face like a dahcotah warrior, with a nose like an eagle's bill. its body was long and slender, its wings were large, and on them was painted the lightning. our warriors were once out hunting in the winter, when a terrible storm came on, and a large thunder bird descended to the earth, wearing snow-shoes; he took but a few steps and then rose up, leaving his tracks in the snow. that winter our hunters killed many bears." tah-we-chu-kin; the wife. * * * * * in february, , a party of dahcotahs (warpetonian) fell in with hole-in-the-day, and his band. when chippeways and dahcotahs meet there is generally bloodshed; and, however highly hole-in-the-day may be esteemed as a warrior, it is certain that he showed great treachery towards the dahcotahs on many occasions. now they met for peaceable purposes. hole-in-the-day wished permission to hunt on the dahcotah lands without danger from the tomahawk of his enemies. he proposed to pay them certain articles, which he should receive from the united states government when he drew his annuities, as a return for the privilege he demanded. the dahcotahs and chippeways were seated together. they had smoked the pipe of peace. the snow had drifted, and lay piled in masses behind them, contrasting its whiteness with their dark countenances and their gay ornaments and clothing. for some years there had been peace between these two tribes; hating each other, as they did, they had managed to live without shedding each other's blood. hole-in-the-day was the master spirit among the chippeways. he was the greatest hunter and warrior in the nation; he had won the admiration of his people, and they had made him chief. his word was law to them; he stood firmly on the height to which he had elevated himself. he laid aside his pipe and arose. his iron frame seemed not to feel the keen wind that was shaking the feathers in the heads of the many warriors who fixed their eyes upon him. he addressed the dahcotah warriors. "all nations," said he, "as yet continue the practice of war, but as for me, i now abandon it. i hold firmly the hand of the americans. if you, in future, strike me twice or even three times, i will pass over and not revenge it. if wars should continue, you and i will not take part in them. you shall not fight, neither will i. there shall be no more war in that part of the country lying between pine island and the place called hanoi catnip, (they shot them in the night). over this extent of country we will hold the pipe firmly. you shall hold it by the bowl, and we will hold it by the stem. the pipe shall be in your keeping." so saying, hole-in-the-day advanced and presented the dahcotahs with a pipe. after a moment he continued his speech. "on account of your misconduct, we did desire your death, and if you had met us last winter to treat of peace, however great your numbers, we should have killed you all. white men had ordered us to do so, and we should have done it; because the mendewakantonwans had informed us that you intended by treachery to kill us." the dahcotah chief then replied to him saying, that the dahcotahs were willing that the chippeways should hunt on their lands to the borders of the prairie, but that they should not enter the prairie. the chippeways then agreed to pay them a large quantity of sugar, a keg of powder, and a quantity of lead and tobacco. after their engagement was concluded, hole-in-the-day rose again and said, "in the name of the great spirit, this peace shall be forever," and, turning to wandiokiya (the man that talks to the eagle), a dahcotah who had been taught by the missionaries to read and write, requested him to commit to writing the agreement which had just been made. wandiokiya did so, and has since forwarded the writing to the rev. mr. p----, who resides near fort snelling. the dahcotah adds, "we have now learned that the object of hole-in-the-day was to deceive and kill us; and he and his people have done so, showing that they neither fear god nor the chief of the american people. "in this manner they deceived us, deceived us in the name of the gods. "hole-in-the-day led the band of murderers. "wandiokiya." chapter ii. we shall see how faithfully the chippeway chief kept the treaty that he had called upon the great spirit to witness. there has been great diversity of opinion concerning hole-in-the-day, the chippeways and dahcotahs all feared him. some of the white people who knew him admired, while others detested his character. he was certainly, what all the chippeways have been, a friend of the white people, and equally an enemy to the dahcotahs. he encouraged all attempts that were made towards the civilization of his people; he tried to induce them to cultivate the ground; indeed, he sometimes assumed the duties which among savages are supposed to belong exclusively to females, and has been frequently seen to work in his garden. had it been possible, he would even have forced the chippeways to civilization. he had three wives--all sisters. he was fond of them, but if they irritated him, by disputing among themselves, or neglecting any thing which he found necessary to his comfort, he was very violent. blows were the only arguments he used on such occasions. the present chief is one of his children; several of them died young, and their father felt their loss most keenly. grave and stoical as was his deportment, his feelings were very strong, and not easily controlled. he was a man of deep thought, and of great ambition. the latter passion was gratified to as great a degree as was possible. loved by his tribe, feared by his enemies, respected and well treated by the white people, what more could a savage ask? among the indians he was a great man, but he was truly great in cunning and deceit. on this occasion, however, the dahcotahs had perfect confidence in him, and it was on the first day of april, in the same year, that they arrived at the place appointed to meet the chippeways, near the east branch of the chippeway river, about thirty miles northeast of lac qui parle. the women raised the teepees, six in number, and prepared the scanty portion of food for their families. here they remained, until their patience was almost exhausted, constantly expecting hole-in-the-day to appear; but day after day passed, and they were still disappointed. now and then the reports of fire-arms were heard near them, but still the chippeways did not visit the camp of the dahcotahs. famine now showed itself among them. they had neither corn nor flour. had the wild ducks flown over their heads in clouds, there was but little powder and shot to kill them--but there were few to be seen. some of the indians proposed moving their camp where game was more plenty--where they might see deer, and use their bows and arrows to some purpose. but others said, if they were not at the appointed place of meeting, they would violate the contract, and lose their claim to the articles that hole-in-the-day had promised to deliver to them. it was finally concluded that the party should divide, one half moving off in search of food, the other half remaining where they were, in hopes that hole-in-the-day would make his appearance. three teepees then remained, and they were occupied by seventeen persons, all women and children excepting four. it was drawing on towards evening, when the dahcotahs heard the sound of footsteps, and their satisfaction was very great, when they perceived the chippeway chief approach, accompanied by ten of his men. these men had been present at the council of peace in february. one of the dahcotahs, named red face, had left his family in the morning, to attend to the traps he had set for beaver. he had not returned when the chippeways arrived. his two wives were with the dahcotahs who received the chippeways. one of these women had two children; the other was quite young, and, according to indian ideas, beautiful too. she was the favorite wife. the dahcotahs received the chippeways with real pleasure, in full faith and confidence. "hole-in-the-day has been long in coming," said one of the dahcotahs; "his friends have wished to smoke the pipe of peace with him, but some of them have left us to seek for food. we welcome you, and will eat together, and our friendship shall last forever." hole-in-the-day met his advances with every appearance of cordiality. one thing, however, the dahcotahs observed, that the chippeways did not fire their guns off when they arrived, which is done by indians when they make a visit of friendship. the party passed the evening in conversation. all the provisions of the dahcotahs were called in requisition to feast the chippeways. after eating, the pipe went round again, and at a late hour they laid down to sleep, the chippeways dividing their party, several in each teepee. hole-in-the-day lay down by the side of his host, so motionless you would have thought that sleep had paralyzed his limbs and senses; his regular breathing intimates a heart at peace with himself and his foes; but that heart was beating fast, for in a moment he raises himself cautiously, gazes and smiles too upon the sleeping dahcotah beside him. he gives the appointed signal, and instantaneously plunges his knife into the heart of the trusting dahcotah. it was child's play afterwards to quiet the shrill shrieks of the terrified wife. a moment more, and she and her child lay side by side, never to awake again. for a short time broken and shrill cries were heard from the other teepees, but they were soon over. the two wives of red face had laid down without a fear, though their protector was absent. the elder of the two clasped her children to her heart, consoled, in a measure, while listening to their calm breathing, for the loss of the love of her husband. she knew that the affections of a husband might vary, but the tie between mother and child is indissoluble. the young wife wondered that red face was not by her side. but he would return to-morrow, and her welcome would be all the greeting that he would wish for. while her thoughts are assuming the form of dreams, she sees the fatal weapon pointed at the mother and child. the bullet that kills the sleeping infant on its mother's breast, wounds the mother also; but she flies in horror, though not soon enough to escape the sight of her other pleading child, her warrior-son, vainly clasping his hands in entreaty to the savage, who, with another blow from his tomahawk, puts an end to his sufferings. the wretched mother escapes, for hole-in-the-day enters the teepee, and takes prisoner the younger wife. she escapes a present death--what will be her future fate? chapter iii. the elder of the two wives escaped from the murderous chippeways. again and again, in the darkness of the night, she turns back to flee from her deadly foe, but far more from the picture of her children, murdered before her eyes. she knew the direction in which the dahcotahs who had left the party had encamped, and she directed her steps to find them. one would think she would have asked death from her enemies--her husband loved her no more, her children were dead--but she clung to life. she reached the teepees at last, and hastened to tell of her sorrows, and of the treachery of hole-in-the-day. for a moment the utmost consternation prevailed among the indians, but revenge was the second thought, and rapidly were their preparations made to seek the scene of the murder. the distance was accomplished in a short time, and the desolation lay before their eyes. the fires in the teepees were not gone out; the smoke was ascending to the heavens; while the voices of the murdered dahcotahs seemed to call upon their relatives for revenge.. there lay the warriors, who, brave as hole-in-the-day, had laid aside their weapons, and reposed on the faith of their enemies, their strong limbs powerless, their faces turned towards the light, which fell upon their glassy eyes. see the mother, as she bends over the bodies of her innocent children!--her boy, who walked so proudly, and said he would kill deer for his mother; her infant, whose life had been taken, as it were, from her very heart. she strains them to her bosom, but the head leans not towards her, and the arms are stiff in death. red face has asked for his young wife. she is alive, but, far worse than death, she is a prisoner to the chippeways. his children are dead before his eyes, and their mother, always obedient and attentive, does not hear him when he speaks to her. the remains of the feast are scattered on the ground; the pipe of peace lies broken among them. in the course of the morning the rev. mr.----, missionary among the dahcotahs, with the assistance of an indian named round wind, collected the bodies and buried them. of the fourteen persons who were in the three teepees, no more than four escaped; two young men and two women. the chippeways fled as quickly as possible from the country of the dahcotahs, with their prisoner--sad change for her. a favorite wife finds herself in the power of ten warriors, the enemies of her people. the cries of her murdered friends are yet sounding in her ears; and she knows not how soon their fate may be hers. every step of the weary journey she pursues, takes her farther from her country. she dares not weep, she cannot understand the language of her enemies, but she understands their looks, and knows she must obey them. she wishes they would take her life; she would take it herself, but she is watched, and it is impossible. she sees by their angry gestures and their occasional looks towards her, that she is the subject of their dispute, until the chief raises his eyes and speaks to the chippeways--and the difference ceases. at length her journey is at an end. they arrive at the village, and hole-in-the-day and his warriors are received with manifestations of delight. they welcomed him as if he had performed a deed of valor instead of one of cowardice. the women gaze alternately upon the scalps and upon the prisoner. she, poor girl, is calm now; there is but one thought that makes her tired limbs shake with terror. she sees with a woman's quickness that there is no female among those who are looking at her as beautiful as she is. it may be that she may be required to light the household fires for one of her enemies. she sees the admiring countenance of one of the young chippeway warriors fixed upon her; worn out with fatigue, she cannot support the wretched thought. for a while she is insensible even to her sorrows. on recovering, food is given her, and she tries to eat. nothing but death can relieve her. where are the spirits of the rocks and rivers of her land? have they forgotten her too? hole-in-the-bay took her to his teepee. she was his prisoner, he chose to adopt her, and treated her with every kindness. he ordered his men not to take her life; she was to be as safe in his teepee as if she were his wife or child. for a few days she is allowed to remain quiet; but at length she is brought out to be present at a council where her fate was to be decided. hole-in-the-day took his place in the council, and ordered the prisoner to be placed near him. her pale and resigned countenance was a contrast to the angry and excited faces that lowered upon her; but the chief looked unconcerned as to the event. however his warriors might contend, the result of the council would depend upon him; his unbounded influence always prevailed. after several speeches had been made, stormy wind rose and addressed the chief. his opinion was that the prisoner should suffer death. the dahcotahs had always been enemies, and it was the glory of the chippeways to take the lives of those they hated. his chief had taken the prisoner to his teepee; she was safe; she was a member of his family--who would harm her there? but now they were in council to decide upon her fate. he was an old man, had seen many winters--he had often travelled far and suffered much to take the life of an enemy; and here, where there is one in their power, should they lose the opportunity of revenge? she was but a woman, but the dahcotah blood flowed in her veins. she was not fit to live. the eagle spoke next. he was glad that the chief had taken the prisoner to his teepee--it had been always customary occasionally to adopt a prisoner, and the chief did well to keep up the customs of their tribe. the prisoner was young, she could be taught to love the chippeway nation; the white people did not murder their prisoners; the chippeways were the friends of the white people; let them do as they did, be kind to the prisoner and spare her life. the eagle would marry the dahcotah girl; he would teach her to speak the language of her adopted tribe; she should make his mocassins, and her children would be chippeways. let the chief tell the eagle to take the girl home to his teepee. the eagle's speech created an excitement. the indians rose one after the other, insisting upon the death of their prisoner. one or two seconded the eagle's motion to keep her among them, but the voices of the others prevailed. the prisoner saw by the faces of the savages what their words portended. when the eagle rose to speak, she recognized the warrior whose looks had frightened her; she knew he was pleading for her life too; but the memory of her husband took away the fear of death. death with a thousand terrors, rather than live a wife, a slave to the chippeways! the angry chippeways are silenced, for their chief addresses them in a voice of thunder; every voice is hushed, every countenance is respectfully turned towards the leader, whose words are to decide the fate of the unhappy woman before them. "where is the warrior that will not listen to the words of his chief? my voice is loud and you shall hear. i have taken a dahcotah woman prisoner; i have chosen to spare her life; she has lived in my teepee; she is one of my family; you have assembled in council to-day to decide her fate--i have decided it. when i took her to my teepee, she became as my child or as the child of my friend. you shall not take her life, nor shall you marry her. she is my prisoner--she shall remain in my teepee." seeing some motion of discontent among those who wished to take her life, he continued, while his eyes shot fire and his broad chest heaved with anger: "come then and take her life. let me see the brave warrior who will take the life of my prisoner? come! she is here; why do you, not raise your tomahawks? it is easy to take a woman's scalp." not a warrior moves. the prisoner looks at the chief and at his warriors. hole-in-the-day leads her from the council and points to his teepee, which is again her home, and where she is as safe as she would be in her husband's teepee, by the banks of the mine so-to. chapter iv. while the wife of red face lived from day to day in suspense as to her fate, her husband made every effort for her recovery. knowing that she was still alive, he could not give up the hope of seeing her again. accordingly, the facts were made known at fort snelling, and the chippeway interpreter was sent up to hole-in-the-day's village, with an order from the government to bring her down. she had been expected for some time, when an excitement among a number of old squaws, who were standing outside of the gate of the fort, showed that something unusual was occasioning expressions of pleasure; and as the wife of red face advanced towards the house of the interpreter, their gratification was raised to the utmost. red face and some of the dahcotah warriors were soon there too--and the long separated husband and wife were again united. but whatever they might have felt on the occasion of meeting again, they showed but little joy. red face entered the room where were assembled the indians and the officers of the garrison. he shook hands with the officers and with the interpreter, and, without looking at his wife, took his seat with the other dahcotahs. but her composure soon left her. when she saw him enter, the blood mantled in her pale cheek--pale with long anxiety and recent fatigue. she listened while the dahcotahs talked with the agent and the commanding officer; and at last, as if her feelings could not longer be restrained, she arose, crossed the room, and took her seat at his feet! the chief hole-in-the-day has been dead some years, and, in one of the public prints, it was stated that he was thrown from his carriage and killed. this was a genteel mode of dying, which cannot, with truth, be attributed to him. he always deplored the habit of drinking, to which the indians are so much addicted. in his latter years, however, he could not withstand the temptation; and, on one occasion, being exceedingly drunk, he was put into an ox-cart, and being rather restive, was thrown out, and the cart wheel went over him. thus died hole-in-the-day-one of the most noted indians of the present day; and his eldest son reigns in his stead. [illustration: haokah the anti-natural god; one of the giants of the dahcotahs. drawn by white deer, a sioux warrior who lives near fort snelling.] explanation of the drawing. . the giant. . a frog that the giant uses for an arrow-point. . a large bird that that the giant keeps in his court. . another bird. . an ornament over the door leading into the court. . an ornament over a door. . part of court ornamented with down. . part of do. do. with red down. . a bear; . a deer; . an elk; . a buffalo. , . incense-offering. . a rattle of deer's claws, used when singing. . a long flute or whistle. , , , . are meteors that the giant sends out for his defence, or to protect him from invasion. , , , . the giant surrounded with lightnings, with which he kills all kinds of animals that molest him. . red down in small bunches fastened to the railing of the court. . the same. one of these bunches of red down disappears every time an animal is found dead inside the court. , . touchwood, and a large fungus that grows on trees.--these are eaten by any animal that enters the court, and this food causes their death. . a streak of lightning going from the giant's hat. . giant's head and hat. . his bow and arrow. wah-zee-yah another of the giant gods of the dahcotahs. wah-zee-yah had a son who was killed by etokah wachastah, man of the south. wah-zee-yah is the god of the winter, and etokah wachastah is the god of the summer. when there is a cold spell early in the warm weather, the dahcotahs say wah-zee-yah is looking back. when the son of wah-zee-yah was killed, there were six on each side; the beings of the south were too strong for those of the north, and conquered them. when the battle was over, a fox was seen running off with one of the beings of the north. these gods of the dahcotahs are said to be inferior to the great spirit; but if an indian wants to perform a deed of valor, he prays to haokah the giant. when they are in trouble, or in fear of anything, they pray to the great spirit. you frequently see a pole with a deer-skin, or a blanket hung to it; these are offerings made to the great spirit, to propitiate him. white dog, who lives near fort snelling, says he has often prayed to the great spirit to keep him from sin, and to enable him and his family to do right. when he wishes to make an offering to the great spirit, he takes a scarlet blanket, and paints a circle of blue in the centre, (blue is an emblem of peace,) and puts ten bells, or silver brooches to it. this offering costs him $ . christians are too apt to give less liberally to the true god. when white dog goes to war, he makes this offering. white dog says he never saw the giant, but that "iron members," who died last summer, saw one of the giants several years ago. iron members was going hunting, and when he was near shah-co-pee's village, he met the giant. he wore a three-cornered hat, and one side was bright as the sun; so bright one could not look upon it; and he had a crooked thing upon his shoulder. iron members was on a hill; near which was a deep ravine, when suddenly his eye rested upon something so bright that it pained him to look at it. he looked down the ravine and there stood the giant. notwithstanding his position, his head reached to the top of the trees. the giant was going northwards, and did not notice the indian or stop; he says he watched the giant; and, as he went forward, the trees and bushes seemed to make way for him. the visit was one of good luck, the indians say, for there was excellent hunting that season. the dahcotahs believe firmly the story of iron members. he was one of their wisest men. he was a great warrior and knew how to kill his enemies. white dog says that at night, when they were on a war party, iron members would extinguish all the fires of the dahcotahs, and then direct his men where to find the chippeways. he would take a spoonful of sugar, and the same quantity of whiskey, and make an offering to the spirits of their enemies; he would sing to them, and charm them so that they would come up so close to him that he would knock them on the head with his rattle, and kill them. these spirits approach in the form of a bear. after this is done, they soon find their enemies and conquer them. the dahcotahs think their medicine possesses supernatural powers; they burn incense,--leaves of the white cedar tree,--in order to destroy the supernatural powers of a person who dislikes them. they consider the burning of incense a preventive of evil, and believe it wards off danger from lightning. they say that the cedar tree is wahkun (spiritual) and on that account they burn its leaves to ward off danger. the temple of solomon was built of cedar. unktahe, the god of the waters, is much reverenced by the dahcotahs. morgan's bluff, near fort snelling, is called "god's house" by the dahcotahs; they say it is the residence of unktahe, and under the hill is a subterranean passage, through which they say the water-god passes when he enters the st. peter's. he is said to be as large as a white man's house. near lac qui parle is a hill called "the giant's house." on one occasion the rev. mr. ---- was walking with a dahcotah, and as they approached this hill the dahcotah exclaimed, "do you not see him, there he is." and although no one else saw the giant, he persisted in watching him for a few moments as he passed over the hill. near lac qui parle, is living an old dahcotah woman of a singular appearance. her face is very black, and her hair singed and faded-looking. she was asked by a stranger to account for her singular appearance. "i dreamed of the giant," she said; "and i was frightened when i woke; and i told my husband that i would give a dance to the giant to propitiate him; but my husband said that i was not able to go through the giant's dance; that i would only fail, and bring disgrace upon him and all my family. the giant was very angry with me, and punished me by burning my face black, and my hair as you see it." her husband might well fear that she would not be able to perform this dance. it would be impossible to give any idea of the number of the gods of the dahcotahs. all nature is animated with them; every mountain, every tree, is worshipped, as among the greeks of old, and again, like the egyptians, the commonest animals are the objects of their adoration. may the time soon come when they will acknowledge but one god, the creator of the earth and heaven, the sovereign of the universe! storms in life and nature; or, unktahe and the thunder bird "ever," says checkered cloud, "will unktahe, the god of the waters, and wahkeon, (thunder,) do battle against each other. sometimes the thunder birds are conquerors--often the god of the waters chases his enemies back to the distant clouds." many times, too, will the daughters of the nation go into the pathless prairies to weep; it is their custom; and while there is sickness, and want, and death, so long will they leave the haunts of men to weep where none but the great spirit may witness their tears. it is only, they believe, in the city of spirits, that the sorrows of dahcotah women will cease--there, will their tears be dried forever. many winters have passed away since harpstenah brought the dead body of her husband to his native village to be buried; my authority is the "medicine woman," whose lodge, for many years, was to be seen on the banks of lake calhoun. this village is now deserted. the remains of a few houses are to be seen, and the broken ground in which were planted the poles of their teepees. silence reigns where the merry laugh of the villagers often met in chorus. the scene of the feast and dance is now covered with long grass, but "desolation saddens all its green." chapter i. dark and heavy clouds hung over the village of "sleepy eyes," one of the chiefs of the sioux. the thunder birds flapped their wings angrily as they flew along, and where they hovered over the "father of many waters," the waves rose up, and heaved to and fro. unktahe was eager to fight against his ancient enemies; for as the storm spirits shrieked wildly, the waters tossed above each other; the large forest trees were uptorn from their roots, and fell over into the turbid waters, where they lay powerless amid the scene of strife; and while the vivid lightning pierced the darkness, peal after peal was echoed by the neighboring hills. one human figure was seen outside the many teepees that rose side by side in the village. sleepy eyes alone dared to stand and gaze upon the tempest which was triumphing over all the powers of nature. as the lightning fell upon the tall form of the chief, he turned his keen glance from the swift-flying clouds to the waters, where dwelt the god whose anger he had ever been taught to fear. he longed, though trembling, to see the countenance of the being whose appearance is the sure warning of calamity. his superstitious fears told him to turn, lest the deity should rise before him; while his native courage, and love of the marvellous, chained him to the spot. the storm raged wilder and louder--the driving wind scattered the hail around him, and at length the chief raised the door of his teepee, and joined his frightened household. trembling and crouching to the ground were the mothers and children, as the teepee shook from the force of the wind. the young children hid their faces close against their mothers' breasts. every head was covered, to avoid the streaked lightning as it glanced over the bent and terrified forms, that seemed to cling to the earth for protection. at the end of the village, almost on the edge of the high bluff that towered above the river, rose a teepee, smaller than the rest. the open door revealed the wasted form of harpstenah, an aged woman. aged, but not with years! evil had been the days of her pilgrimage. the fire that had burned in the wigwam was all gone out, the dead ashes lay in the centre, ever and anon scattered by the wind over the wretched household articles that lay around. gone out, too, were the flames that once lighted with happiness the heart of harpstenah. the sorrows of earth, more pitiless than the winds of heaven, had scattered forever the hopes that had made her a being of light and life. the head that lies on the earth was once pillowed on the breast of the lover of her youth. the arm that is heavily thrown from her once clasped his children to her heart. what if the rain pours in upon her, or the driving wind and hail scatter her wild locks? she feels it not. life is there, but the consciousness of life is gone forever. a heavier cloud hangs about her heart than that which darkens nature. she fears not the thunder, nor sees the angry lightning. she has laid upon the scaffold her youngest son, the last of the many ties that bound her to earth. one week before, her son entered the wigwam. he was not alone; his comrade, "the hail that strikes," accompanied him. harpstenah had been tanning deer-skin near her door. she had planted two poles firmly in the ground, and on them she had stretched the deer-skin. with an iron instrument she constantly scraped the skin, throwing water upon it. she had smoked it too, and now it was ready to make into mocassins or leggins. she had determined, while she was tanning the deer-skin, how she would embroider them. they should be richer and handsomer even than those of their chief's son; nay, gayer than those worn by the chief himself. she had beads and stained porcupine quills; all were ready for her to sew. the venison for the evening meal was cooked and placed in a wooden bowl before the fire, when the two young men entered. the son hardly noticed his mother's greeting, as he invited his friend to partake of the venison. after eating, he filled his pipe, smoked, and offered it to the other. they seemed inclined to waste but little time in talking, for the pipe was put by, and they were about to leave the teepee, when the son's steps were arrested by his mother's asking him if he were going out again on a hunt. "there is food enough," she added, "and i thought you would remain at home and prepare to join in the dance of the sun, which will be celebrated to-morrow. you promised me to do so, and a dahcotah values his word." the young man hesitated, for he loved his mother, and he knew it would grieve her to be told the expedition upon which he was going. the eyes of his comrade flashed fire, and his lip curled scornfully, as he turned towards the son of harpstenah. "are you afraid to tell your mother the truth," he said, "or do you fear the 'long knives' [footnote: officers and soldiers are called long knives among the sioux, from their wearing swords.] will carry you a prisoner to their fort? _i_ will tell you where we are going," he added. "the dahcotahs have bought us whiskey, and we are going to meet them and help bring it up. and now cry--you are a woman--but it is time for us to be gone." the son lingered--he could not bear to see his mother's tears. he knew the sorrows she had endured, he knew too (for she had often assured him) that should harm come to him she would not survive it. the knife she carried in her belt was ready to do its deadly work. she implored him to stay, calling to his mind the deaths of his father and of his murdered brothers; she bade him remember the tears they had shed together, and the promises he had often made, never to add to the trials she had endured. it was all in vain; for his friend, impatient to be gone, laughed at him for listening to the words of his mother. "is not a woman a dog?" he said. "do you intend to stay all night to hear your mother talk? if so, tell me, that i may seek another comrade--one who fears neither a white man nor a woman." this appeal had its effect, for the young men left the teepee together. they were soon out of sight, while harpstenah sat weeping, and swaying her body to and fro, lamenting the hour she was born. "there is no sorrow in the land of spirits," she cried; "oh! that i were dead!" the party left the village that night to procure the whiskey. they were careful to keep watch for the chippeways, so easy would it be for their enemies to spring up from behind a tree, or to be concealed among the bushes and long grass that skirted the open prairies. day and night they were on their guard; the chirping of the small bird by day, as well as the hooting of an owl by night--either might be the feigned voice of a tomahawked enemy. and as they approached st. anthony's falls, they had still another cause for caution. here their friends were to meet them with the fire water. here, too, they might see the soldiers from fort snelling, who would snatch the untasted prize from their lips, and carry them prisoners to the fort--a disgrace that would cling to them forever. concealed under a rock, they found the kegs of liquor, and, while placing them in their canoes, they were joined by the indians who had been keeping guard over it, and at the same time watching for the soldiers. in a few hours they were relieved of their fears. the flag that waved from the tower at fort snelling, had been long out of sight. they kept their canoes side by side, passing away the time in conversation. the women who were paddling felt no fatigue. they knew that at night they were to have a feast. already the fires of the maddening drink had made the blood in their dull veins course quickly. they anticipated the excitement that would make them forget they had ever been cold or hungry; and bring to them bright dreams of that world where sorrow is unknown. "we must be far on our journey to-night," said the rattler; "the long knives are ever on the watch for dahcotahs with whiskey." "the laws of the white people are very just," said an old man of the party; "they let their people live near us and sell us whiskey, they take our furs from us, and get much money. _they_ have the right to bring their liquor near us, and sell it, but if _we_ buy it we are punished. when i was young," he added, bitterly, "the dahcotahs were free; they went and came as they chose. there were no soldiers sent to our villages to frighten our women and children, and to take our young men prisoners. the dahcotahs are all women now--there are no warriors among them, or they would not submit to the power of the long knives." "we must submit to them," said the rattler; "it would be in vain to attempt to contend with them. we have learned that the long knives _can work in the night_. a few nights ago, some young men belonging to the village of marpuah wechastah, had been drinking. they knew that the chippeway interpreter was away, and that his wife was alone. they went, like cowards as they were, to frighten a woman. they yelled and sung, they beat against her door, shouting and laughing when they found she was afraid to come out. when they returned home it was just day; they drank and slept till night, and then they assembled, four young men in one teepee, to pass the night in drinking. "the father of white deer came to the teepee. 'my son,' said he, 'it is better for you to stop drinking and go away. you have an uncle among the tetons, go and visit him. you brought the fire water here, you frightened the wife of the interpreter, and for this trouble you will be punished. your father is old, save him the disgrace of seeing his son a prisoner at the fort.' "'fear not, my father,' said the young man, 'your son will never be a prisoner. i wear a charm over my heart, which will ever make me free as the wind. the _white men cannot work in the night;_ they are sleeping even now. we will have a merry night, and when the sun is high, and the long knives come to seek me, you may laugh at them, and tell them to follow me to the country of the tetons.' the father left the teepee, and white deer struck the keg with his tomahawk. the fire water dulled their senses, for they heard not their enemies until they were upon them. "it was in the dead of night--all but the revellers slept--when the soldiers from the fort surrounded the village. "the mother of white deer heard the barking of her dog. she looked out of the door of her teepee. she saw nothing, for it was dark; but she knew there was danger near. "our warriors, roused from their sleep, determined to find out the cause of the alarm; they were thrust back into their teepees by the bayonets of the long knives, and the voice of the interpreter was heard, crying, 'the first dahcotah that leaves his lodge shall be shot.' "the soldiers found out from the old chief the teepee of the revellers. the young men did not hear them as they approached; they were drinking and shouting. white deer had raised the cup to his lips, when the soldier's grasp was upon him. it was too late for him to fly. "there was an unopened keg of liquor in the teepee. the soldiers struck it to pieces, and the fire water covered the ground. "the hands of white deer were bound with an iron chain; he threw from him his clothes and his blanket. he was a prisoner, and needed not the clothing of a dahcotah, born free. "the grey morning dawned as they entered the large door of the fort. his old father soon followed him; he offered to stay, himself, as a prisoner, if his young son could be set free. "it is in vain, then, that we would contend with the white man; they keep a watch over all our actions. they _work in the night_." "the long knives will ever triumph, when the medicine men of our nation speak as you do," said two stars. "i have lived near them always, and have never been their prisoner. i have suffered from cold in the winter, and have never asked clothing, and from hunger, and have never asked food. my wife has never stood at the gate to ask bread, nor have my daughters adorned themselves to attract the eyes of their young men. i will live and die on the land of my forefathers, without asking a favor of an enemy. they call themselves the friends of the dahcotahs. they are our friends when they want our lands or our furs. "they are our worst enemies; they have trampled us under foot. we do not chase the deer on the prairies as eagerly as they have hunted us down. they steal from us our rights, and then gain us over by fair words. i hate them; and had not our warriors turned women, and learned to fear them, i would gladly climb their walls, and shout the war-cry in their ears. the great spirit has indeed forsaken his children, when their warriors and wise men talk of submission to their foes." chapter ii. well might harpstenah sit in her lodge and weep. the sorrows of her life passed in review before her. yet she was once the belle of an indian village; no step so light, no laugh so merry as hers. she possessed too, a spirit and a firmness not often found among women. she was by birth the third daughter, who is always called harpstenah among the sioux. her sisters were married, and she had seen but fourteen summers when old cloudy sky, the medicine man, came to her parents to buy her for his wife. they dared not refuse him, for they were afraid to offend a medicine man, and a war chief besides. cloudy sky was willing to pay them well for their child. so she was told that her fate for life was determined upon. her promised bridegroom had seen the snows of eighty winters. it was a bright night in the "moon for strawberries." [footnote: the month of june.] harpstenah had wept herself to sleep, and she had reason too, for her young companions had laughed at her, and told her that she was to have for a husband an old man without a nose. and it was true, though cloudy sky could once have boasted of a fine aquiline. he had been drinking freely, and picked a quarrel with one of his sworn friends. after some preliminary blows, cloudy sky seized his antagonist and cut his ear sadly, but in return he had his nose bitten off. she had wept the more when her mother told her that in four days she was to go to the teepee of her husband. it was in vain to contend. she lay down beside the fire; deep sleep came upon her; she forgot the events of the past day; for a time she ceased to think of the young man she loved, and the old one she hated. in her dreams she had travelled a long journey, and was seated on the river shore, to rest her tired limbs. the red light of the dying sun illumined the prairies, she could not have endured its scorching rays, were it not for the sheltering branches of the tree under which she had found a resting-place. the waters of the river beat against her feet. she would fain move, but something chained her to the spot. she tried to call her mother, but her lips were sealed, and her voice powerless. she would have turned her face from the waters, but even this was impossible. stronger and stronger beat the waves, and then parted, revealing the dreaded form of the fairy of the waters. harpstenah looked upon death as inevitable; she had ever feared that terrible race of beings whose home was in the waters. and now the fairy stood before her! "why do you tremble maiden? only the wicked need fear the anger of the gods you have never offended us, nor the spirits of the dead. you have danced in the scalp-dance, and have reverenced the customs of the sioux. you have shed many tears. you love red deer, and your father has sold you to cloudy sky, the medicine man. it is with you to marry the man you love, or the one you hate." "if you know everything," sighed the girl, "then you must know that in four days i am to take my seat beside cloudy sky in his wigwam. he has twice brought calico and cloth, and laid them at the door of my father's teepee." "you shall not marry cloudy sky, if you have a strong heart, and fear nothing," replied the fairy. the spirits of the water have determined on the death of cloudy sky. he has already lived three times on earth. for many years he wandered through the air with the sons of the thunder bird; like them he was ever fighting against the friends of unktahe. "with his own hand he killed the son of that god, and for that was he sent to earth to be a medicine man. but long ago we have said that the time should come, when we would destroy him from the earth. it is for you to take his life when he sleeps. can a dahcotah woman want courage when she is to be forced to marry a man she hates?" the waters closed over the fairy as he disappeared, and the waves beat harder against harpstenah's feet. she awoke with the words echoing in her heart, "can a sioux woman want courage when she is to be forced to marry a man she hates?" "the words of the fairy were wise and true," thought the maiden. "our medicine-men say that the fairies of the water are all wicked; that they are ever seeking to do harm to the dahcotahs. my dream has made my heart light. i will take the life of the war chief. at the worst they can but take mine." as she looked round the teepee, her eye rested upon the faces of her parents. the bright moonlight had found its way into the teepee. there lay her father, his haughty countenance calm and subdued, for the "image of death" had chased away the impression left on his features of a fierce struggle with a hard life. how often had he warned her of the danger of offending cloudy sky, that sickness, famine, death itself, might be the result. her mother too, had wearied her with warnings. but she remembered her dream, and with all a sioux woman's faith in revelations, she determined to let it influence her course. red deer had often vowed to take the life of his rival, though he knew it would have assuredly cost him his own. the family of cloudy sky was a large one; there were many who would esteem it a sacred duty to avenge his death. besides he would gain nothing by it, for the parents of harpstenah would never consent to her marriage with the murderer of the war chief. how often had red deer tried to induce the young girl to leave the village, and return with him as his wife. "have we not always loved each other," he said. "when we were children, you made me mocassins, and paddled the canoe for me, and i brought the wild duck, which i shot while it was flying, to you. you promised me to be my wife, when i should be a great hunter, and had brought to you the scalp of an enemy. i have kept my promise, but you have broken yours." "i know it," she replied; "but i fear to keep my word. they would kill you, and the spirits of my dead brothers would haunt me for disobeying my parents. cloudy sky says that if i do not marry him he will cast a spell upon me; he says that the brightness would leave my eye, and the color my cheek; that my step should be slow and weary, and soon would i be laid in the earth beside my brothers. the spirit that should watch beside my body would be offended for my sin in disobeying the counsel of the aged. you, too, should die, he says, not by the tomahawk, as a warrior should die, but by a lingering disease--fever should enter your veins, your strength would soon be gone, you would no longer be able to defend yourself from your enemies. let me die, rather than bring such trouble upon you." red deer could not reply, for he believed that cloudy sky could do all that he threatened. nerved, then, by her devotion to her lover, her hatred of cloudy sky, and her faith in her dream, harpstenah determined her heart should not fail her; she would obey the mandate of the water god; she would bury her knife in the heart of the medicine man. chapter iii. in their hours for eating, the sioux accommodate themselves to circumstances. if food be plenty, they eat three or four times a day; if scarce, they eat but once. sometimes they go without food for several days, and often they are obliged to live for weeks on the bark of trees, skins, or anything that will save them from dying of famine. when game and corn are plenty, the kettle is always boiling, and they are invariably hospitable and generous, always offering to a visitor such as they have it in their power to give. the stars were still keeping watch, when harpstenah was called by her mother to assist her. the father's morning meal was prepared early, for he was going out to hunt. wild duck, pigeons, and snipe, could be had in abundance; the timid grouse, too, could be roused up on the prairies. larger game was there, too, for the deer flew swiftly past, and had even stopped to drink on the opposite shore of the "spirit lake." when they assembled to eat, the old man lifted up his hands--"may the great spirit have mercy upon us, and give me good luck in hunting." meat and boiled corn were eaten from wooden bowls, and the father went his way, leaving his wife and daughter to attend to their domestic cares. harpstenah was cutting wood near the lodge, when cloudy sky presented himself. he went into the teepee and lighted his pipe, and then, seating himself outside, began to smoke. he was, in truth, a sorry figure for a bridegroom. always repulsive in his looks, his present dress was not calculated to improve him. he wore mourning for his enemy, whom he had killed. his face was painted perfectly black; nothing but the whites of his eyes relieved the universal darkness. his blanket was torn and old--his hair unbraided, and on the top of his head he wore a knot of swan's down. every mark of grief or respect he could have shown a dead brother, he now assumed in honor of the man whom he had hated--whose life he had destroyed--who had belonged to the hateful tribe which had ever been the enemy of his nation. he looked very important as he puffed away, now watching harpstenah, who appeared to be unconscious of his presence, now fixing his eyes on her mother, who was busily employed mending mocassins. having finished smoking; he used a fan which was attached to the other end of his pipe-stem. it was a very warm day, and the perspiration that was bursting from his forehead mingled with the black paint and slowly found its way down his face. "where is your husband?" at length he asked of the mother. "he saw a deer fly past this morning," she replied, "and he has gone to seek it, that i may dry it." "does he come back to-night?" "he does; he said you were to give a medicine feast to-morrow, and that he would be here." harpstenah knew well why the medicine feast was to be given. cloudy sky could not, according to the laws of the sioux, throw off his mourning, until he had killed an enemy or given a medicine dance. she knew that he wanted to wear a new blanket, and plait his hair, and paint his face a more becoming color. but she knew his looks could not be improved, and she went on cutting wood, as unconcernedly as if the old war chief were her grandfather, instead of her affianced husband. he might gain the good will of her parents, he might even propitiate the spirits of the dead: she would take his life, surely as the senseless wood yielded to the strength of the arm that was cleaving it. "you will be at the feast too," said cloudy sky to the mother; "you have always foretold truly. there is not a woman in the band who can tell what is going to happen as well as you. there is no nation so great as the dahcotah," continued the medicine man, as he saw several idlers approach, and stretch themselves on the grass to listen to him. "there is no nation so great as the dahcotah--but our people are not so great now as they were formerly. when our forefathers killed buffaloes on these prairies, that the white people now ride across as if they were their own, mighty giants lived among them; they strode over the widest rivers, and the tallest trees; they could lay their hands upon the highest hills, as they walked the earth. but they were not men of war. they did not fight great battles, as do the thunder bird and his warriors." there were large animals, too, in those days; so large that the stoutest of our warriors were but as children beside them. their bones have been preserved through many generations. they are sacred to us, and we keep them because they will cure us when we are sick, and will save us from danger. i have lived three times on earth. when my body was first laid upon the scaffold, my spirit wandered through the air. i followed the thunder birds as they darted among the clouds. when the heavens were black, and the rain fell in big drops, and the streaked lightning frightened our women and children, i was a warrior, fighting beside the sons of the thunder bird. unktahe rose up before us; sixty of his friends were with him: the waters heaved and pitched, as the spirits left them to seek vengeance against the thunder birds. they showed us their terrible horns, but they tried to frighten us in vain. we were but forty; we flew towards them, holding our shields before our breasts; the wind tore up the trees, and threw down the teepees, as we passed along. all day we fought; when we were tired we rested awhile, and then the winds were still, and the sun showed himself from behind the dark clouds. but soon our anger rose. the winds flew along swifter than the eagle, as the thunder birds clapped their wings, and again we fought against our foes. the son of unktahe came towards me; his eyes shone like fire, but i was not afraid. i remembered i had been a sioux warrior. he held his shield before him, as he tried to strike me with his spear. i turned his shield aside, and struck him to the heart. he fell, and the waters whirled round as they received his body. the sons of unktahe shouted fearful cries of rage, but our yells of triumph drowned them. the water spirits shrank to their home, while we returned to the clouds. the large rain drops fell slowly, and the bow of bright colors rested between the heavens and the earth. the strife was over, and we were conquerors. i know that unktahe hates me--that he would kill me if he could--but the thunder bird has greater power than he; the friend of the 'man of the west' [footnote: thunder is sometimes called the man of the west.] is safe from harm. harpstenah had ceased her work, and was listening to the boaster. "it was all true," she said to herself; "the fairy of the water told me that he had offended her race. i will do their bidding. cloudy sky may boast of his power, but ere two nights have passed away, he will find he cannot despise the anger of the water spirits, nor the courage of a dahcotah woman." chapter iv. the approach of night brought with it but little inclination to sleep to the excited girl. her father slept, tired with the day's hunt; and her mother dreamed of seeing her daughter the wife of a war chief and a medicine man. the village was built on the shores of the lake now known as lake calhoun. by the light of the moon the teepees were reflected in its waters. it was bright as day; so clear was the lake, that the agates near the shore sparkled in its waters. the cry of the whippoorwill alone disturbed the repose of nature, except when the wild scream of the loon was heard as she gracefully swept the waters. seated on the shore, harpstenah waited to hear the low whistle of her lover. the villagers were almost all asleep, now and then the laugh of some rioters was heard breaking in upon the stillness of night. she had not seen her lover for many days; from the time that her marriage was determined upon, the young warrior had kept aloof from her. she had seized her opportunity to tell him that he must meet her where they had often met, where none should know of their meeting. she told him to come when the moon rose, as her father would be tired, and her mother wished to sleep well before the medicine feast. many fears oppressed her heart, for he had not answered her when she spoke to him, and he might not intend to come. long she waited in vain, and she now arose to return to the teepee, when the low signal met her ear. she did not wait to hear it a second time, but made her way along the shore: now her steps were printed in the wet sand, now planted on the rocks near the shore; not a sound followed her movements until she stood on the appointed place. the bright moonlight fell upon her features, and her rich dress, as she waited with folded arms for her lover to address her. her okendokenda of bright colors was slightly open at the neck, and revealed brooches of brass and silver that covered her bosom; a heavy necklace of crimson beads hung around her throat; bracelets of brass clasped her wrists, and her long plaited hair was ornamented at the end of the braids with trinkets of silver. her cloth petticoat was richly decorated with ribbons, and her leggins and mocassins proved that she had spent much time and labor on the adorning of a person naturally well formed, and graceful. "why have you wished to meet me, harpstenah?" said the young man, gloomily. "have you come to tell me of the presents cloudy sky has made you, or do you wish to say that you are ashamed to break the promise you made me to be my wife?" "i have come to say again that i will be your wife," she replied: "and for the presents cloudy sky left for me, i have trampled them under my feet. see, i wear near my heart the brooches you have given me." "women are ever dogs and liars," said red deer, "but why do you speak such words to me, when you know you have agreed to marry cloudy sky? your cousin told me your father had chosen him to carry you into the teepee of the old man. your father beat you, and you agreed to marry him. you are a coward to mind a little pain. go, marry the old medicine man; he will beat you as he has his other wives; he may strike you with his tomahawk and kill you, as he did his first wife; or he will sell you to the traders, as he did the other; he will tell you to steal pork and whiskey for him, and then when it is found out, he will take you and say you are a thief, and that he has beaten you for it. go, the young should ever mate with the young, but you will soon lie on the scaffold, and by his hand too." "the proud eagle seeks to frighten the timid bird that follows it," said the maiden; "but red deer should not speak such angry words to the woman that will venture her life for him. cloudy sky boasts that he is the friend of the thunder bird; in my dreams, i have seen the fairy of the waters, and he told me that cloudy sky should die by my hand. my words are true. cloudy sky was once with the sons of the thunder birds when they fought against unktahe. he killed a son of the water god, and the spirits of the water have determined on his death. "red deer, my heart is strong. i do not fear the medicine man, for the power of unktahe is greater than his. but you must go far away and visit the tetons; if you are here, they will accuse you of his death, and will kill you. but as i have promised to marry him, no one will think that i have murdered him. it will be long ere i see you again, but in the moon that we gather wild rice, [footnote: september] return, and i will be your wife. go, now," she added, "say to your mother that you are going to visit your friends, and before the day comes be far away. to-morrow cloudy sky gives a medicine feast, and to-morrow night haokah will make my heart strong, and i will kill the medicine man. his soul will travel a long journey to the land of spirits. there let him drink, and boast, and frighten women." red deer heard her, mute with astonishment. the color mantled in her cheek, and her determined countenance assured him that she was in earnest. he charged her to remember the secret spells of the medicine man. if she loved him it was far better to go with him now; they would soon be out of the reach of her family. to this she would not listen, and repeating to him her intention of executing all she had told him of, she left him. he watched her as she returned to her teepee; sometimes her form was lost in the thick bushes, he could see her again as she made her way along the pebbled shore, and when she had entered her teepee he returned home. he collected his implements of war and hunting, and, telling his mother he was going on a long journey, he left the village. chapter v. the feast given in honor of their medicine was celebrated the next day, and cloudy sky was thus relieved of the necessity of wearing mourning for his enemy. his face was carefully washed of the black paint that disfigured it; his hair, plentifully greased, was braided and ornamented. his leggins were new, and his white blanket was marked according to indian custom. on it was painted a black hand, that all might know that he had killed his enemy. but for all he did not look either young or handsome, and harpstenah's young friends were astonished that she witnessed the preparations for her marriage with so much indifference. but she was unconscious alike of their sympathy and ridicule; her soul was occupied with the reflection that upon her energy depended her future fate. never did her spirit shrink from its appointed task. nor was she entirely governed by selfish motives; she believed herself an instrument in the hand of the gods. mechanically she performed her ordinary duties. the wood was cut and the evening meal was, cooked; afterwards she cut down branches of trees, and swept the wigwam. in the evening, the villagers had assembled on the shores of the lake to enjoy the cool air after the heat of the day. hours passed away as gossipping and amusement engaged them all. at length they entered their teepees to seek rest, and harpstenah and her mother were the last at the door of their teepee, where a group had been seated on the ground, discussing their own and others' affairs. "no harm can come to you, my daughter, when you are the wife of so great a medicine man. if any one hate you and wish to do you an injury, cloudy sky will destroy their power. has he not lived with the thunder birds, did he not learn from them to cure the sick, and to destroy his enemies? he is a great warrior too." "i know it, my mother," replied the girl, "but we have sat long in the moonlight, the wind that stirred the waters of the spirit lake is gone. i must sleep, that i may be ready to dress myself when you call me. my hair must be braided in many braids, and the strings are not yet sewed to my mocassins. you too are tired; let us go in and sleep." sleep came to the mother--to the daughter courage and energy. not in vain had she prayed to haokah the giant, to give her power to perform a great deed. assured that her parents were sleeping heavily, she rose and sought the lodge of the medicine man. when she reached the teepee, she stopped involuntarily before the door, near which hung, on a pole, the medicine bag of the old man. the medicine known only to the clan had been preserved for ages. sacred had it ever been from the touch of woman. it was placed there to guard the medicine man from evil, and to bring punishment on those who sought to do him harm. harpstenah's strength failed her. what was she about to do? could she provoke with impunity the anger of the spirits of the dead? would not the great spirit bring terrible vengeance upon her head. ready to sink to the earth with terror, the words of the fairy of the waters reassured her. "can a dahcotah woman want courage when she is to be forced to marry a man she hates?" the tumult within is stilled--the strong beating of her heart has ceased--her hand is upon the handle of her knife, as the moonlight falls upon its glittering blade. too glorious a night for so dark a deed! see! they are confronted, the old man and the maiden! the tyrant and his victim; the slave dealer and the noble soul he had trafficked for! pale, but firm with high resolve, the girl looked for one moment at the man she had feared--whose looks had checked her childish mirth, whose anger she had been taught to dread, even to the sacrificing of her heart's best hopes. restlessly the old man slept; perchance he saw the piercing eyes that were, fixed upon him, for he muttered of the road to the land of spirits. listen to him, as he boasts of the warrior's work. "many brave men have made this road. the friend of the thunder birds was worthy. strike the woman who would dare assist a warrior. strike--" "deep in his heart she plunged the ready steel," and she drew it out, the life blood came quickly. she alone heard his dying groan. she left the teepee--her work was done. it was easy to wash the stains on her knife in the waters of the lake. when her mother arose, she looked at the pale countenance of her daughter. in vain she sought to understand her muttered words. harpstenah, as she tried to sleep, fancied she heard the wild laugh of the water spirits. clouds had obscured the moon, and distant thunder rolled along the sky; and, roused by the clamorous grief of the many women assembled in the lodge, she heard from them of the dark tragedy in which she had been the principal actor. the murderer was not to be found. red deer was known to be far away. it only remained to bury cloudy sky, with all the honors due to a medicine man. harpstenah joined in the weeping of the mourners--the fountains of a sioux woman's tears are easily unlocked. she threw her blanket upon the dead body. many were the rich presents made to the inanimate clay which yesterday influenced those who still trembled lest the spirit of the dead war-chief would haunt them. the richest cloth enrobed his body, and, a short distance from the village, he was placed upon a scaffold. food was placed beside him; it would be long before his soul would reach the city of spirits; his strength would fail him, were it not for the refreshment of the tender flesh of the wild deer he had loved to chase, and the cooling waters he had drank on earth, for many, many winters. but after the death of cloudy sky, the heart of harpstenah grew light. she joined again in the ball plays on the prairies. it needed no vermilion on her cheek to show the brightness of her eye, for the flush of hope and happiness was there. the dark deed was forgotten; and when, in the time that the leaves began to fall, they prepared the wild rice for winter's use, red deer was at her side. he was a good hunter, and the parents were old. red deer ever kept them supplied with game--and winter found her a wife, and a happy one too; for red deer loved her in very truth--and the secret of the death of the medicine man was buried in their hearts. chapter vi. ten years had passed away since their marriage, and red deer had never brought another wife to his teepee. harpstenah was without a rival in his affections, if we except the three strong boys who were growing up beside them. chaskè (the oldest son) could hunt for his mother, and it was well that he could, for his father's strength was gone. consumption wasted his limbs, and the once powerful arm could not now support his drooping head. the father and mother had followed cloudy sky to the world of spirits; they were both anxious to depart from earth, for age had made them feeble, and the hardships of ninety years made them eager to have their strength renewed, in the country where their ancestors were still in the vigor of early youth. the band at lake calhoun were going on a hunt for porcupines; a long hunt, and harpstenah tried to deter her husband from attempting the journey; but he thought the animating exercise of the chase would be a restorative to his feeble frame, and they set out with the rest. when the hunters had obtained a large number of those valued animals, the women struck their teepees and prepared for their return. harpstenah's lodge alone remained, for in it lay the dying man--by his side his patient wife. the play of the children had ceased--they watched with silent awe the pale face and bright eye of their father--they heard him charge their mother to place food that his soul might be refreshed on its long journey. not a tear dimmed her eye as she promised all he asked. "there is one thing, my wife," he said, "which still keeps my spirit on earth. my soul cannot travel the road to the city of spirits--that long road made by the bravest of our warriors--while it remembers the body which it has so long inhabited shall be buried far from its native village. your words were wise when you told me i had not strength to travel so far, and now my body must lie far from my home--far from the place of my birth--from the village where i have danced the dog feast, and from the shores of the 'spirit lakes' where my father taught me to use my bow and arrow." "your body shall lie on the scaffold near your native village," his wife replied. "when i turn from this place, i will take with me my husband; and my young children shall walk by my side. my heart is as brave now as it was when i took the life of the medicine man. the love that gave me courage then, will give me strength now. fear not for me; my limbs will not be weary, and when the great spirit calls me, i will hear his voice, and follow you to the land of spirits, where there will be no more sickness nor trouble." many stars shone out that night; they assisted in the solemn and the sacred watch. the mother looked at the faces of her sleeping sons, and listened to their heavy breathing; they had but started on the journey of life. she turned to her husband: it was but the wreck of a deserted house, the tenant had departed. the warrior was already far on his journey; ere this, he had reached the lodge where the freed spirit adorns itself ere entering upon its new abode. some days after, harpstenah entered her native village, bearing a precious burden. strapped to her back was the body of her husband. by day, she had borne it all the weary way; at night, she had stopped to rest and to weep. nor did her strength fail her, until she reached her home; then, insensible to sorrow and fatigue, she sunk to the earth. the women relieved her from the burden, and afterwards helped her to bury her dead. many waters could not quench her love, nor could the floods drown it. it was strong as death. well might she sit in her lodge and weep! the village where she passed her childhood and youth was deserted. her husband forgotten by all but herself. her two sons were murdered by the chippeways, while defending their mother and their young brother. well might she weep! and tremble too, for death among the dahcotahs comes as often by the fire water purchased from the white people, as from the murderous tomahawk and scalping-knife of the chippeways. nor were her fears useless; she never again saw her son, until his body was brought to her, his dark features stiff in death. the death blow was given, too, by the friend who had shamed him from listening to his mother's voice. * * * * * what wonder that she should not heed the noise of the tempest! the storms of her life had been fiercer than the warring of the elements. but while the fountains of heaven were unsealed, those of her heart were closed forever. never more should tears relieve her, who had shed so many. often had she gone into the prairies to weep, far from the sight of her companions. her voice was heard from a distance. the wind would waft the melancholy sound back to the village. "it is only harpstenah," said the women. "she has gone to the prairies to weep for her husband and her children." the storm raged during the night, but ceased with the coming of day. the widowed wife and childless mother was found dead under the scaffold where lay the body of her son. the thunder bird was avenged for the death of his friend. the strength of red deer had wasted under a lingering disease; his children were dead; their mother lay beside her youngest son. the spirit of the waters had not appeared in vain. when the countenance of unktahe rests upon a dahcotah, it is the sure prognostic of coming evil. the fury of the storm spirits was spent when the soul of harpstenah followed her lost ones. * * * * * dimly, as the lengthened shadows of evening fall around them, are seen the outstretched arms of the suffering dahcotah women, as they appeal to us for assistance--and not to proud man! he, in the halls of legislation, decides when the lands of the red man are needed--one party makes a bargain which the other is forced to accept. but in a woman's heart god has placed sympathies to which the sorrows of the dahcotah women appeal. listen! for they tell you they would fain know of a balm for the many griefs they endure; they would be taught to avoid the many sins they commit; and, oh! how gladly would many of them have their young children accustomed to shudder at the sight of a fellow creature's blood. like us, they pour out the best affections of early youth on a beloved object. like us, they have clasped their children to their hearts in devoted love. like us, too, they have wept as they laid them in the quiet earth. but they must fiercely grapple with trials which we have never conceived. winter after winter passes, and they perish from disease, and murder, and famine. there is a way to relieve them--would you know it? assist the missionaries who are giving their lives to them and god. send them money, that they may clothe the feeble infant, and feed its starving mother. send them money, that they may supply the wants of those who are sent to school, and thus encourage others to attend. as the day of these forgotten ones is passing away, so is ours. they were born to suffer, we to relieve. let their deathless souls be taught the way of life, that they and we, after the harsh discords of earth shall have ceased, may listen together to the "harmonies of heaven." haokah ozape; the dance to the giant chapter i. the dance to the giant is now rarely celebrated among the dahcotahs. so severe is the sacrifice to this deity, that there are few who have courage to attempt it; and yet haokah is universally reverenced and feared among the sioux. they believe in the existence of many giants, but haokah is one of the principal. he is styled the anti-natural god. in summer he feels cold, in winter he suffers from the heat; hot water is cold to him, and the contrary. the dahcotah warrior, however brave he may be, believes that when he dreams of haokah, calamity is impending and can only be avoided by some sort of sacrifice to this god. the incident on which this story is founded, occurred while i resided among the sioux. i allude to the desertion of wenona by her lover. it serves to show the blind and ignorant devotion of the dahcotah to his religion. and as man is ever alike in every country, and under every circumstance of life--as he often from selfish motives tramples upon the heart that trusts him--so does woman utterly condemn a sister, feeling no sympathy for her sorrow, but only hatred of her fault. jealous for the honor of the long-reverenced feasts of the dahcotahs--the "deer killer" thought not for a moment of the sorrow and disgrace he would bring upon wenona, while wauska loved the warrior more than ever, triumphing in his preference of her, above her companion. and wenona-- a cloud came o'er the prospect of her life, and evening did set in early, and dark and deadly. but she loved too truly to be jealous, and departed without the revenge that most indian women would have sought, and accomplished too. her silence on the subject of her early trial induced her friends to believe that her mind was affected, a situation caused by long and intense suffering, and followed by neglect; in such cases the invalid is said to _have no heart_. the girl from whom i have attempted to draw the character of wauska, i knew well. good looking, with teeth like pearls, her laugh was perfect music. often have i been roused from my sewing or reading, by hearing the ringing notes, as they were answered by the children. she generally announced herself by a laugh, and was welcomed by one in return. she was pettish withal, and easily offended, and if refused calico for an okendokenda, or beads, or ribbon to ornament some part of her dress, she would sullenly rest her chin on her hand, until pacified with a present, or the promise of one. it is in indian life as in ours--youth believes and trusts, and advancing years bring the consciousness of the trials of life; the necessity of enduring, and in some cases the power to overcome them. who but she who suffers it, can conceive the sioux woman's greatest trial--to feel that the love that is her right, is gone! to see another take the place by the household fire, that was hers; to be last where she was first. it may require some apology that wauska should have vowed destruction upon herself if the deer killer took another wife, and yet should have lived on and become that most unromantic of all characters--a virago. she was reconciled in time to what was inevitable, and as there are many wives among the sioux, there must be the proportion of scolding ones. so i plead guilty to the charge of wanting sentiment, choosing rather to be true to nature. and there is this consideration: if there be among the dahcotahs some catharines, there are many petruchios. * * * * * a group of indian girls were seated on the grass, wauska in the centre, her merry musical laugh echoed back by all but wenona. the leaves of the large forest tree under which they were sheltered seemed to vibrate to the joyous sounds, stirred as they were by a light breeze that blew from the st. peter's. hark! they laugh again, and "old john" wakes up from his noon-day nap and turns a curious, reproving look to the noisy party, and shah-co-pee, the orator of the sioux, moves towards them, anxious to find out the cause of their mirth. "old john," after a hearty stretch, joins them too, and now the fumes of the pipe ascend, and mix with the odor of the sweet-scented prairie grass that the young girls are braiding. but neither shah-co-pee the chief, nor old john the medicine man, could find out the secret; they coaxed and threatened in turns--but all in vain, for their curiosity was not gratified. they might have noticed, however, that wenona's face was pale, and her eyes red with weeping. she was idle too, while the others plaited busily, and there was a subdued look of sadness about her countenance, contrasting strangely with the merry faces of the others. "why did you not tell shah-co-pee what we were laughing at, wenona?" said wanska. "your secret is known now. the deer-killer told all at the virgin's feast. why did you not make him promise not to come? if i had been you, i would have lain sick the day of the feast, i would have struck my foot, so that i could not walk, or, i would have died before i entered the ring. "the deer-killer promised to marry me," replied wenona. "he said that when he returned from his hunt i should be his wife. but i know well why he has disgraced me; you have tried to make him love you, and now he is waiting to take you to his lodge. he is not a great warrior, or he would have kept his word." "wenona!" said wanska, interrupting her, "you have not minded the advice of your grandmother. she told you never to trust the promises of the bravest warriors. you should not have believed his words, until he took you to his wigwam. but do not be afraid that i will marry the deer-killer. there was never but one woman among the dahcotahs who did not marry, and i am going to be the second." "you had better hush, wanska," said the bright star. "you know she had her nose cut off because she refused to be a wife, and somebody may cut yours off too. it is better to be the mother of warriors than to have every one laughing at you." "enah! then i will be married, rather than have my nose cut off, but i will not be the deer-killer's wife. so wenona may stop crying." "he says he will never marry me," said wenona; "and it will do me no good for you to refuse to be his wife. but you are a liar, like him; for you know you love him. i am going far away, and the man who has broken his faith to the maiden who trusted him, will never be a good husband." "if i were wenona, and you married the deer-killer," said the bright star to wanska, "you should not live long after it. she is a coward or she would not let you laugh at her as you did. i believe _she has no heart_ since the virgin's feast; sometimes she laughs so loud that we can hear her from our teepee, and then she bends her head and weeps. when her mother places food before her she says, 'will he bring the meat of the young deer for me to dress for him, and will my lodge be ever full of food, that i may offer it to the hungry and weary stranger who stops to rest himself?' if i were in her place, wanska," added the bright star, "i would try and be a medicine woman, and i would throw a spell upon the deer-killer, and upon you too, if you married him." "the deer-killer is coming," said another of the girls. "he has been watching us; and now that he sees wenona has gone away, he is coming to talk to wanska. he wears many eagle feathers: wenona may well weep that she cannot be his wife, for there is not a warrior in the village who steps so proudly as he." but he advanced and passed them indifferently. by and by they separated, when he followed wanska to her father's teepee. her mother and father had gone to dispose of game in exchange for bread and flour, and the deer-killer seated himself uninvited on the floor of the lodge. "the teepee of the warrior is lonely when he returns from hunting," said he to the maiden. "wanska must come to the lodge of the deer-killer. she shall ever have the tender flesh of the deer and buffalo to refresh her, and no other wife shall be there to make her unhappy." "wanska is very happy now," she replied. "her father is a good hunter. he has gone to-day to carry ducks and pigeons to the fort. the promises of the deer-killer are like the branch that breaks in my hand. wenona's face is pale, and her eyes are red like blood from weeping. the deer-killer promised to make her his wife, and now that he has broken his word to her, he tells wanska that he will never take another wife, but she cannot trust him." "wanska was well named the merry heart," the warrior replied; "she laughs at wenona and calls her a fool, and then she wishes me to marry her. who would listen to a woman's words? and yet the voice of the merry heart is sweeter than a bird's--her laugh makes my spirit glad. when she sits in my lodge and sings to the children who will call me father, i shall be happy. many women have loved the deer-killer, but never has he cared to sit beside one, till he heard the voice of wanska as she sang in the scalp-dance, and saw her bear the scalp of her enemy upon her shoulders." wanska's face was pale while she listened to him. she approached him, and laid her small hand upon his arm--"i have heard your words, and my heart says they are good. i have loved you ever since we were children. when i was told that you were always by the side of wenona, the laugh of my companions was hateful to me--the light of the sun was darkness to my eyes. when wenona returned to her village with her parents, i said in the presence of the great spirit that she should not live after you had made her your wife. but her looks told me that there was sadness in her heart, and then i knew you could not love her. "you promise me you will never bring another wife to your wigwam. deer-killer! the wife of the white man is happy, for her husband loves her alone. the children of the second wife do not mock the woman who is no longer beloved, nor strike her children before her eyes. when i am your wife i shall be happy while you love me; there will be no night in my teepee while i know your heart is faithful and true; but should you break your word to me, and bring to your lodge another wife, you shall see me no more, and the voice whose sound is music to your ears you will never hear again." promises come as readily to the lips of an indian lover as trustfulness does to the heart of the woman who listens to them; and the deer-killer was believed. wanska had been often at the fort, and she had seen the difference between the life of a white and that of an indian woman. she had thought that the great spirit was unmindful of the cares of his children. and who would have thought that care was known to wanska, with her merry laugh, and her never-ceasing jokes, whether played upon her young companions, or on the old medicine man who kept everybody but her in awe of him. she seemed to be everywhere too, at the same time. her canoe dances lightly over the st. peter's, and her companions try in vain to keep up with her. soon her clear voice is heard as she sings, keeping time with the strokes of the axe she uses so skilfully. a peal of laughter rouses the old woman, her mother, who goes to bring the truant home, but she is gone, and when she returns, in time to see the red sun fade away in the bright horizon, she tells her mother that she went out with two or three other girls, to assist the hunters in bringing in the deer they had killed. and her mother for once does not scold, for she remembers how she used to love to wander on the prairies, when her heart was as light and happy as her child's. when wanska was told that the deer-killer loved wenona, no one heard her sighs, and for tears, she was too proud to shed any. wenona's fault had met with ridicule and contempt; there was neither sympathy nor excuse found for her. and now that the deer-killer had slighted wenona, and had promised to love her alone, there was nothing wanting to her happiness. bright tears of joy fell from her eyes when her lover said there was a spell over him when he loved wenona, but now his spirit was free; that he would ever love her truly, and that when her parents returned he would bring rich presents and lay them at the door of the lodge. wanska was indeed "the merry heart," for she loved the deer-killer more than life itself, and life was to her a long perspective of brightness. she would lightly tread the journey of existence by his side, and when wearied with the joys of this world, they would together travel the road that leads to the heaven of the dahcotahs. she sat dreaming of the future after the deer-killer had left her, nor knew of her parents' return until she heard her mother's sharp voice as she asked her "if the corn would boil when the fire was out, and where was the bread that she was told to have ready on their return?" bread and corn! when wanska had forgot all but that she was beloved. she arose quickly, and her light laugh drowned her mother's scolding. soon her good humor was infectious, for her mother told her that she had needles and thread in plenty, besides more flour and sugar, and that her father was going out early in the morning to kill more game for the long knives who loved it so well. chapter ii. a few months ago, the deer-killer had told wenona that wanska was noisy and tiresome, and that her soft dark eyes were far more beautiful than wanska's laughing ones. they were not at home then, for wenona had accompanied her parents on a visit to some relations who lived far above the village of shah-co-pee. while there the deer-killer came in with some warriors who had been on a war party; there wenona was assured that her rival, the merry heart, was forgotten. and well might the deer-killer and wenona have loved each other. "youth turns to youth as the flower to the sun," and he was brave and noble in his pride and power; and she, gentle and loving, though an indian woman; so quiet too, and all unlike wanska, who was the noisiest little gossip in the village. often had they wandered together through the "solemn temples of the earth," nor did she ever fear, with the warrior child for a protector. she had followed him when he ascended the cliffs where the tracks of the eagle were seen; and with him she felt safe when the wind was tossing their canoe on the mississippi, when the storm spirits had arisen in their power. they were still children when wenona would know his step among many others, but they were no longer children when wenona left shah-co-pee's village, for she loved with a woman's devotion--and more than loved. she had trembled when she saw the deer-killer watch wanska as she tripped merrily about the village. sleeping or waking, his image was ever before her; he was the idol to which her spirit bowed, the sun of her little world. the dance to the giant was to be celebrated at the village where they were visiting; the father of wenona and "old john" the medicine man, were to join in it. the maiden had been nothing loth to undertake the journey, for the deer-killer had gone on a war party against the chippeways, and she thought that in the course of their journey they might meet him--and when away from wanska, he would return to her side. he could not despise the love she had given him. hope, that bright star of youth, hovered over her, and its light was reflected on her heart. when they arrived at the village of the chief markeda, or "burning earth," the haughty brow of the chief was subdued with care. he had dreamed of haokah the giant, and he knew there was sorrow or danger threatening him. he had sinned against the giant, and what might be the consequence of offending him? was his powerful arm to be laid low, and the strong pulse to cease its beatings? did his dream portend the loss of his young wife? she was almost as dear to him as the fleet hunter that bore him to the chase. it might be that the angry god would send their enemies among them, and his tall sons would gladden his sight no more. sickness and hunger, phantom-like, haunted his waking and sleeping hours. there was one hope; he might yet ward off the danger, for the uplifted arm of the god had not fallen. he hoped to appease the anger of the giant by dancing in his honor. "we have travelled far," said old john the medicine man, to markeda, "and are tired. when we have slept we will dance with you, for we are of the giant's party." "great is haokah, the giant of the dahcotahs," the chief replied; "it is a long time since we have danced to him." "i had been hunting with my warriors, we chased the buffalo, and our arrows pierced their sides; they turned upon us, bellowing, their heads beating the ground; their terrible eyes glared upon us even in death; they rolled in the dust, for their strength was gone. we brought them to the village for our women to prepare for us when we should need them. i had eaten and was refreshed; and, tired as my limbs were, i could not sleep at first, but at last the fire grew dim before my eyes, and i slept. "i stood on the prairie alone, in my dream, and the giant appeared before me. so tall was he that the clouds seemed to float about his head. i trembled at the sound of his voice, it was as if the angry winds were loosed upon the earth. "'the warriors of the dahcotahs are turned women,' said he; 'that they no longer dance in honor of the giant, nor sing his songs. markeda is not a coward, but let him tremble; he is not a child, but he may shed tears if the anger of the giant comes upon him.' "glad was i when i woke from my dream--and now, lest i am punished for my sins, i will make a sacrifice to the giant. should i not fear him who is so powerful? can he not take the thunder in his hand and cast it to the earth? "the heart of the warrior should be brave when he dances to the giant. my wigwam is ready, and the friends of the giant are ready also." "give me your mocassins," said the young wife of markeda to old john; "they are torn, and i will mend them. you have come from afar, and are welcome. sleep, and when you awake, you will find them beside you." as she assisted him to take them off, the medicine man looked admiringly into her face. "the young wife of markeda is as beautiful as the white flowers that spring up on the prairies. her husband would mourn for her if the giant should close her eyes. they are bright now, as the stars, but death would dim them, should not the anger of the giant be appeased." the "bounding fawn" turned pale at the mention of the angry giant; she sat down, without replying, to her work; wondering the while, if the soul of her early love thought of her, now that it wandered in the spirit's land. it might be that he would love her again when they should meet there. the sound of her child's voice, awakening out of sleep, aroused her, and called to her mind who was its father. "they tore me away from my lover, and made me come to the teepee of the chief," was her bitter reflection. "enah! that i cannot love the father of my child." she rose and left the teepee. "where is the heaven of the dahcotahs," she murmured, as she looked up to the silent stars. "it may be that i shall see him again. he will love my child too, and i will forget the many tears i have shed." chapter iii. the dance to the giant is always performed inside the wigwam. early in the morning the dancers were assembled in the chief's lodge. their dress was such as is appointed for the occasion. their hats were made of the bark of trees, such as tradition says the giant wears. they were large, and made forked like the lightning. their leggins were made of skins. their ear-rings were of the bark of trees, and were about one foot long. the chief rose ere the dawn of day, and stood before the fire. as the flames flickered, and the shadows of the dancers played fantastically about the wigwam, they looked more like lucifer and a party of attendant spirits, than like human beings worshipping their god. markeda stood by the fire without noticing his guests, who awaited his motions in silence. at last, moving slowly, he placed a kettle of water on the fire, and then threw into it a large piece of buffalo meat. lighting his pipe, he seated himself, and then the dancers advanced to the fire and lit theirs; and soon they were enveloped in a cloud of smoke. when the water began to boil, the indians arose, and, dancing round the fire, imitated the voice of the giant. "hah-hah! hah hah!" they sung, and each endeavored to drown the voice of the other. now they crouch as they dance, looking diminutive and contemptible, as those who are degrading themselves in their most sacred duties. then they rise up, and show their full height. stalwart warriors as they are, their keen eyes flash as they glance from the fire to each others' faces, distorted with the effort of uttering such discordant sounds. now their broad chests heave with the exertion, and their breath comes quickly. they seat themselves, to rest and smoke. again the hellish sounds are heard, and the wife of the chief trembles for fear of the giant, and her child clings closer to her breast. the water boils, and, hissing, falls over into the fire, the flames are darkened for a moment, and then burst up brighter than before. markeda addresses the dancers--"warriors! the giant is powerful--the water which boils before us will be cold when touched by a friend of the giant. haokah will not that his friends should suffer when offering him a sacrifice." the warriors then advanced together, and each one puts his hand into the kettle and takes the meat from the boiling water; and although suffering from the scalds produced, yet their calmness in enduring the pain, would induce the belief that the water really felt to them cool and pleasant. the meat is then taken out, and put into a wooden dish, and the water left boiling on the fire. the dancers eat the meat while hot, and again they arrange themselves to dance. and now, the mighty power of the giant is shown, for markeda advances to the kettle, and taking some water out of it he throws it upon his bare back, singing all the while, "the water is cold." "old john" advances and does the same, followed by the next in turn, until the water is exhausted from the kettle, and then the warriors exclaim, "how great is the power of haokah! we have thrown boiling water upon ourselves and we have not been scalded." the dance is over--the sacrifice is made. markeda seeks his young wife and fears not. he had fancied that her cheeks were pale of late, but now they are flushed brilliantly, his heart is at rest. the warriors disperse, all but the medicine man, and the chief's store of buffalo meat diminishes rapidly under the magic touch of the epicure. yes! an epicure thou wert old john! for i mind me well when thou camest at dinner time, and how thou saidst thou couldst eat the food of the indian when thou wert hungry, but the food of the white man was better far. and thou! a dahcotah warrior, a famous hunter, and a medicine man. shame! that thou shouldst have loved venison dressed with wine more than when the tender meat was cooked according to the taste of the women of thy nation. i have forgotten thy indian name, renegade as thou wert! but thou answerest as well to "old john!" thou art now forgotten clay, though strong and vigorous when in wisdom the sioux were punished for a fault they did not commit. their money was not paid them--their provisions were withheld. many were laid low, and thou hast found before now that god is the great spirit, and the giant haokah is not. and it may be that thou wouldst fain have those thou hast left on earth know of his power, who is above all spirits, and of his goodness who would have all come unto him. chapter iv. wenona had not hoped in vain, for her lover was with her, and wanska seemed to be forgotten. the warrior's flute would draw her out from her uncle's lodge while the moon rose o'er the cold waters. wrapped in her blanket, she would hasten to meet him, and listen to his assurances of affection, wondering the while that she had ever feared he loved another. she had been some months at the village of markeda, and she went to meet her lover with a heavy heart. her mother had noticed that her looks were sad and heavy, and wenona knew that it would not be long ere she should be a happy wife, or a mark for the bitter scorn of her companions. the deer-killer had promised, day after day, that he would make her his wife, but he ever found a ready excuse; and now he was going on a long hunt, and she and her parents were to return to their village. his quiver was full of arrows, and his leggins were tightly girded upon him. wenona's full heart was nigh bursting as she heard that the party were to leave to-morrow. should he desert her, her parents would kill her for disgracing them; and her rival, wanska, how would she triumph over her fall? "you say that you love me," said she to the deer-killer, "and yet you treat me cruelly. why should you leave me without saying that i am your wife? who would watch for your coming as i would? and you will disgrace me when i have loved you so truly. stay--tell them you have made me your wife, and then will i wait for you at the door of my teepee." the warrior could not stay from the chase, but he promised her that he would soon return to their village, and then she should be his wife. wenona wept when he left her; shadows had fallen upon her heart, and yet she hoped on. turning her weary steps homeward, she arrived there when the maidens of the village were preparing to celebrate the virgin's feast. there was no time to deliberate--should she absent herself, she would be suspected, and yet a little while ere the deer-killer would return, and her anxious heart would be at rest. the feast was prepared, and the crier called for all virgins to enter the sacred ring. wenona went forward with a beating heart; she was not a wife, and soon must be a mother. wanska, the merry heart, was there, and many others who wondered at the pale looks of wenona--she who had been on a journey, and who ought to have returned with color bright as the dying sun, whose light illumined earth, sky and water. as they entered the ring a party of warriors approached the circle. wenona does not look towards them, and yet the throbbings of her heart were not to be endured. her trembling limbs refused to sustain her, as the deer-killer, stalking towards the ring, calls aloud--"take her from the sacred feast; should she eat with the maidens?--she, under whose bosom lies a warrior's child? she is unworthy." and as the unhappy girl, with features of stone and glaring eyes, gazed upon him bewildered, he rudely led her from the ring. wenona bowed her head and went--even as night came on when the sun went down. nor did the heart of the deer-killer reproach him, for how dare she offend the great spirit! were not the customs of his race holy and sacred? little to wenona were her father's reproaches, or her mother's curse; that she was no more beloved was all she remembered. again was the deer-killer by the side of wanska, and she paid the penalty. her husband brought other wives to his wigwam, though wanska was ever the favorite one. with her own hand would she put the others out of the wigwam, laughing when they threatened to tell their lord when he returned, for wanska managed to tell her own story first; and, termagant as she was, she always had her own way. wenona has ceased to weep, and far away in the country of the sissetons she toils and watches as all indian women toil and watch. her young son follows her as she seeks the suffering dahcotah, and charms the disease to leave his feeble frame. she tells to the child and the aged woman her dreams; she warns the warrior what he shall meet with when he goes to battle; and ever, as the young girls assemble to pass away the idle hours, she stops and whispers to them. in vain do they ask of her husband: she only points to her son and says, "my hair, which is now like snow, was once black and braided like his, and my eyes as bright. they have wept until tears come no more. listen not to the warrior who says he loves." and she passes from their sight as the morning mists. u-mi-ne-wah-chippe; or, to dance around. i have noticed the many singular notions of the sioux concerning thunder, and especially the fact that they believe it to be a large bird. they represent it thus. [illustration:] this figure is often seen worked with porcupine quills on their ornaments. ke-on means to fly. thunder is called wah-ke-on or all-flier. u-mi-ne-wah-chippe is a dance given by some one who fears thunder and thus endeavors to propitiate the god and save his own life. a ring is made, of about sixty feet in circumference, by sticking saplings in the ground, and bending their tops down, fastening them together. in the centre of this ring a pole is placed. the pole is about fifteen feet in height and painted red. from this swings a piece of birch bark, cut so as to represent thunder. at the foot of the pole stand two boys and two girls. the two boys represent war: they are painted red, and hold war-clubs in their hands. the girls have their faces painted with blue clay: they represent peace. on one side of the circle a kind of booth is erected, and about twenty feet from it a wigwam. there are four entrances to this circle. when all the arrangements for the dance are concluded, the man who gives the dance emerges from his wigwam dressed up as hideously as possible, crawling on all fours towards the booth. he must sing four tunes before reaching it. in the meantime the medicine men, who are seated in the wigwam, beat time on the drum, and the young men and squaws keep time to the music by first hopping on one foot, and then on the other--moving around inside the ring as fast as they can. this is continued for about five minutes, until the music stops. after resting a few moments, the second tune commences, and lasts the same length of time, then the third, and the fourth; the indian meanwhile making his way towards the booth. at the end of each tune, a whoop is raised by the men dancers. after the indian has reached his booth inside the ring, he must sing four more tunes as before. at the end of the fourth tune the squaws all run out of the ring as fast as possible, and must leave by the same way that they entered, the other three entrances being reserved for the men, who, carrying their war implements, might be accidentally touched by one of the squaws--and the war implements of the sioux warrior have from time immemorial been held sacred from the touch of woman. for the same reason the men form the inner ring in dancing round the pole, their war implements being placed at the foot of the pole. when the last tune is ended, the young men shoot at the image of thunder which is hanging to the pole, and when it falls a general rush is made by the warriors to get hold of it. there is placed at the foot of the pole a bowl of water colored with blue clay. while the men are trying to seize the parts of the bark representation of their god, they at the same time are eagerly endeavoring to drink the water in the bowl, every drop of which must be drank. the warriors then seize on the two boys and girls--the representations of war and peace--and use them as roughly as possible--taking their pipes and war-clubs from them, and rolling them in the dirt until the paint is entirely rubbed off from their faces. much as they dislike this part of the dance, they submit to it through fear, believing that after this performance the power of thunder is destroyed. now that the water is drank up and the guardians of the thunder bird are deprived of their war-clubs and pipes, a terrible wailing commences. no description could convey an idea of the noise made by their crying and lamentation. all join in, exerting to the utmost the strength of their lungs. before the men shoot at thunder, the squaws must leave the ring. no one sings at this dance but the warrior who gives it; and while the visitors, the dancers, and the medicine men, women and children, all are arrayed in their gayest clothing, the host must be dressed in his meanest. in the dance ahahkah koyah, or to make the elk a figure of thunder, is also made and fought against. the sioux have a great deference for the majesty of thunder, and, consequently for their own skill in prevailing or seeming to prevail against it. a sioux is always alarmed after dreaming of an elk, and soon prevails upon some of his friends to assist him in dancing, to prevent any evil consequences resulting from his dream. those willing to join in must lay aside all clothing, painting their bodies with a reddish gray color, like the elk's. each indian must procure two long saplings, leaving the boughs upon them. these are to aid the indians in running. the saplings must be about twelve feet in length. with them they tear down the bark image of thunder, which is hung with a string to the top of the pole. all being ready, the elks run off at a gallop, assisted by their saplings, to within about two hundred yards of the pole, when they stop for a while, and then start again for the pole, to which is attached the figure of thunder. they continue running round and round this pole, constantly striking the figure of thunder with their saplings, endeavoring to knock it down, which after a while they succeed in accomplishing. the ceremony is now ended, and the dreamer has nothing to fear from elks until he dreams again. there is no end to the superstitions and fancies entertained by the sioux concerning thunder. on the cradle of the indian child we frequently see the figure of thunder represented. it is generally carved on the wood by the father of the child, with representations of the elk, accompanied with hieroglyphic looking figures, but thunder is regarded as the type of all animals that fly. there are many medicine feasts--and i saw one celebrated near the oak grove mission, and near, also, to the villages of good road, and the chief man in the clouds. it was on a dark cold day about the first of march. we left the fort at about nine o'clock and followed the road on the st. peter's river, which had been used for many months, but which, though still strong, was beginning to look unsafe. as we advanced towards the scene of the feast, many indians from every direction were collecting, and hurrying forward, either to join in the ceremony about to be celebrated, or to be spectators. we ascended quite a high hill, and were then at the spot where all the arrangements were made to celebrate one of the most sacred forms of their religion. many of the indians to be engaged in the performance were entirely without protection from the severe cold--their bodies being painted and their heads adorned with their choicest ornaments, but throwing aside even their blankets, according to the laws of the ceremony. the indians continued to assemble. at eleven o'clock, the dance commenced. although i could not faithfully describe, yet i never can forget the scene. the dark lowering sky--the mantle of snow and ice thrown over all the objects that surrounded us, except the fierce human beings who were thus, under heaven's arch for a roof, about to offer to their deities a solemn worship. then the music commenced, and the horrid sounds increased the wildness of the scene; and the contortions of the medicine man, as he went round and round, made his countenance horrible beyond expression. the devoted attention of the savages, given to every part of the ceremony, made it in a measure interesting. there were hundreds of human beings believing in a great spirit, and anxious to offer him acceptable service; but how degraded in that service! how fallen from its high estate was the soul that god had made, when it stooped to worship the bones of animals, the senseless rock, the very earth that we stood upon! the aged man, trembling with feebleness, ready to depart to the spirit's land, weary with the weight of his infirmities--the warrior treading the earth with the pride of middle age--the young with nothing to regret and everything to look forward to,--all uniting in a worship which they ignorantly believe to be religion, but which we know to be idolatry. i was glad to leave the scene, and turn towards the house of the rev. mr. pond, who lives near the spot where the feast was celebrated. here, pursuing his duties and studies, does this excellent man improve every moment of his time to the advantage of the sioux. always ready to converse kindly with them in order to gain their confidence--giving medicine to the sick, and food to the hungry; doing all that lies in his power to administer to their temporal comfort, he labors to improve their condition as a people. how can it better be done than by introducing the christian religion among them? this the missionaries are gradually doing; and did they receive proper assistance from government, and from religious societies, they would indeed go on their way rejoicing. placed under the government of the united states, these helpless, unhappy beings are dependent upon us for the means of subsistence, in a measure, and how much more for the knowledge of the true god? churches will soon rise where the odious feast and medicine dance are celebrated, but will the indians worship there? when the foundations of these churches are laid, the bones of the original owners of the country will be thrown out--but where will be the souls of those who were thrust out of their country and their rights to make way for us? i have seen where literally two or three were met together--where in a distant country the few who celebrated the death of the redeemer were assembled--where the beautiful service of our church was read, and the hearts that heard it responded to its animating truths. we rejoiced that the religion which was our comfort was not confined to places; here were no altars, nor marble tablets--but here in this humble house we knew god would meet and be with us. an indian silently opened the church door and entered. as strange to him was the solemn decorum of this scene, as to us were the useless ceremonies we every day witnessed. he watched the countenance of the clergyman, but he knew not that he was preaching the doctrine of a universal religion. he saw the sacred book upon the desk, but he could not read the glorious doctrine of a world redeemed by a saviour's blood. he heard the voice of prayer, but how could his soul like ours rise as on eagle's wings, and ascend to the throne of god! who was he, this intruder? it may be a descendant of those who guarded the oracles of god, who for a time preserved them for us. no wonder he tired and turned away. not his the fault that he did not join in the solemn service, but ours. if we disregard the temporal wants of the dahcotah, can we shut our ears against their cry, that rises up day after day, and year after year,--show us the path to happiness and god? the lost trail by edward s. ellis author of "seth jones," "the forest spy," etc., etc. [illustration: "that indian has carried cora away!"--_frontispiece_.] contents. chapter i. the shadow ii. the adventures of a night iii. the jug acquaintances iv. an ominous rencounter v. gone vi. the lost trail vii. a hibernian's search for the trail viii. the trail of death ix. the dead shot x. conclusion list of illustrations. he held his long rifle in his right hand, while he drew the shrubbery apart with his left, and looked forth at the canoe. "a purty question, ye murtherin haythen!" "where does yees get the jug?" dealt the savage a tremendous blow "well, at-to-uck," said he, kindly, "you seem troubled." the trail was lost! "and so, teddy, ye're sayin' it war a white man that took away the missionary's wife." "it's all up!" muttered the dying man. "i am wiped out at last, and must go under!" "harvey richter--don't you know me?" he gasped. the lost trail. chapter i. the shadow. ye who love the haunts of nature, love the sunshine of the meadow, love the shadow of the forest, love the wind among the branches, and the rain-shower and the snow-storm, and the rushing of great rivers. listen to these wild traditions.--hiawatha. one day in the spring of , a singular occurrence took place on one of the upper tributaries of the mississippi. the bank, some fifteen or twenty feet in height, descended quite abruptly to the stream's edge. though both shores were lined with dense forest, this particular portion possessed only several sparse clumps of shrubbery, which seemed like a breathing-space in this sea of verdure--a gate in the magnificent bulwark with which nature girts her streams. this green area commanded a view of several miles, both up and down stream. had a person been observing this open spot on the afternoon of the day in question, he would have seen a large bowlder suddenly roll from the top of the bank to bound along down the green declivity and fall into the water with a loud splash. this in itself was nothing remarkable, as such things are of frequent occurrence in the great order of things, and the tooth of time easily could have gnawed away the few crumbs of earth that held the stone in poise. scarcely five minutes had elapsed, however, when a second bowlder rolled downward in a manner precisely similar to its predecessor, and tumbled into the water with a rush that resounded across and across from the forest on either bank. even this might have occurred in the usual course of things. stranger events take place every day. the loosening of the first stone could have opened the way for the second, although a suspicious observer might naturally have asked why its fall did not follow more immediately. but, when precisely the same interval had elapsed, and a third stone followed in the track of the others, there could be no question but what human agency was concerned in the matter. it certainly appeared as if there were some _intent_ in all this. in this remote wilderness, no white man or indian would find the time or inclination for such child's play, unless there was a definite object to be accomplished. and yet, scrutinized from the opposite bank, the lynx-eye of a veteran pioneer would have detected no other sign of the presence of a human being than the occurrences that we have already narrated; but the most inexperienced person would have decided at once upon the hiding-place of him who had given the moving impulse to the bodies. just at the summit of the bank was a mass of shrubbery of sufficient extent and density to conceal a dozen warriors. and within this, beyond doubt, was one person, at least, concealed; and it was certain, too, that from his hiding-place, he was peering out upon the river. each bowlder had emerged from this shrubbery, and had not passed through it in its downward course; so that their starting-point may now be considered a settled question. supposing one to have gazed from this stand-point, what would have been his field of vision? a long stretch of river--a vast, almost interminable extent of forest--a faint, far-off glimpse of a mountain peak projected like a thin cloud against the blue sky, and a solitary eagle that, miles above, was bathing his plumage in the clear atmosphere. naught else? close under the opposite shore, considerably lower down than the point to which we first directed our attention, may be descried a dark object. it is a small indian canoe, in which are seated two white men and a female, all of whom are attired in the garb of civilization. the young man near the stern is of slight mold, clear blue eye, and a prepossessing countenance. he holds a broad ashen paddle in his hand with which to assist his companion, who maintains his proximity to the shore for the purpose of overcoming more deftly the opposition of the current. the second personage is a short but square-shouldered irishman, with massive breast, arms like the piston-rods of an engine, and a broad, good-natured face. he is one of those beings who may be aptly termed "machines," a patient, plodding, ox-like creature who takes to the most irksome labor as a flail takes to the sheafs on the threshing-floor. work was his element, and nothing, it would seem, could tire or overcome those indurated muscles and vice-like nerves. the only appellation with which he was ever known to be honored was that of "teddy." near the center of the canoe, which was of goodly size and straight, upon a bed of blankets, sat the wife of the young man in the stern. a glance would have dissipated the slightest suspicion of her being anything other than a willing voyager upon the river. there was the kindling eye and glowing cheek, the eager look that flitted hither and yon, and the buoyant feeling manifest in every movement, all of which expressed more of enthusiasm than of willingness merely. her constant questions to her husband or teddy, kept up a continual run of conversation, which was now, for the first time, momentarily interrupted by the occurrence to which we have alluded. at the moment we introduce them the young man was holding his paddle stationary and gazing off toward his right, where the splash in the water denoted the fall of the third stone. his face wore an expression of puzzled surprise, mingled with which was a look of displeasure, as if he were "put out" at this manifestation. his eyes were fixed with a keen, searching gaze upon the river-bank, expecting the appearance of something more. teddy also was resting upon his paddle, and scrutinizing the point in question; but he seemed little affected by what had taken place. his face was as expressionless as one of the bowlders, save the ever-present look of imperturbable good-humor. the young woman seemed more absorbed than either of her companions, in attempting to divine this mystery that had so suddenly come upon them. more than once she raised her hand, as an admonition for teddy to preserve silence. finally, however, his impatience got the better of his obedience, and he broke the oppressive stillness. "and what does ye make of it, miss cora, or master harvey?" he asked, after a few moments, dipping his paddle at the same time in the water. "arrah, now, has either of ye saan anything more than the same bowlders there?" "no," answered the man, "but we may; keep a bright look-out, teddy, and let me know what you see." the irishman inclined his head to one side, and closed one eye as if sighting an invisible gun. suddenly he exclaimed, with a start: "i see something now, _sure_ as a bally-ma-gorrah wake." "what is it?" "the sun going down in the west, and tilling us we've no time to shpare in fooling along here." "teddy, don't you remember day before yesterday when we came out of the mississippi into this stream, we observed something very similar to this?" "an' what if we did, zur? does ye mane to say that a rock or two can't git tired of layin' in bed for a thousand years and roll around like a potaty in a garret whin the floor isn't stiddy?" "it struck us as so remarkable that we both concluded it must have been caused _purposely_ by some one." "me own opinion was, ye remember, that it was a lot of school-boys that had run away from their master, and were indulging themselves in a little shport, or that it was the bears at a shindy, or that it was something else." "ah! teddy, there are times when jesting is out of place," said the young wife, reproachfully; "and it seems to me that when we are alone in this vast wilderness, with many and many a long mile between us and a white settlement, we should be grave and thoughtful." "i strives to be so, miss cora, but it's harder than paddling this cockle-shell of a canoe up-shtream. my tongue will wag jist as a dog's tail when he can't kape it still." the face of the irishman wore such a long, woebegone expression, that it brought a smile to the face of his companion. teddy saw this, and his big, honest blue eyes twinkled with humor as he glanced upward from beneath his hat. "i knows yees _prays_ for me, misther harvey and miss cora, ivery night and morning of your blessed life, but i'm afeard your prayers will do as little good for teddy as the s'arch-warrant did for micky, the praist's boy, who stole the praist's shirt and give it away because it was lou--" "_look!_" from the very center of the clump of bushes of which we have made mention, came a white puff of smoke, followed immediately by the faint but sharp report of a rifle. the bullet's course could be seen as it skipped over the surface of the water, and finally dropped out of sight. "what do you say, now?" asked the young man. "isn't that proof that we've attracted attention?" "so it saams; but, little dread need we have of disturbance if they always kaap at such a respictable distance as that. whisht, now! but don't ye saa those same bushes moving? there's some one passing through them! mebbe it's a shadow, mebbe it's the divil himself. if so, here goes after the imp!" catching up his rifle, teddy discharged it toward the bank, although it was absolutely impossible for his bullet to do more than reach the shore. "that's to show the old gintleman we are ready and ain't frightened, be he the divil himself, or only a few of his children, that ye call the poor injuns!" "and whoever it is, he is evidently as little frightened as you; that shot was a direct challenge to us." "and it's accepted. hooray! now for some limerick exercise!" ere he could be prevented, the irishman had headed his canoe across stream, and was paddling with all his might toward the spot from which the first shot had been fired. "stop!" commanded his master. "it is fool-hardiness, on a par with your general conduct, thus to run into an undefined danger." teddy reluctantly changed the course of the boat and said nothing, although his face plainly indicated his disappointment. he had not been mistaken, however, in the supposition that he detected the movements of some person in the shrubbery. directly after the shot had been fired, the bushes were agitated, and a gaunt, grim-visaged man, in a half-hunter and half-civilized dress, moved a few feet to the right, in a manner which showed that he was indifferent as to whether or not he was observed. he looked forth as if to ascertain the result of his fire. the man was very tall, with a face by no means unhandsome, although it was disfigured by a settled scowl, which better befitted a savage enemy than a white friend. he held his long rifle in his right hand, while he drew the shrubbery apart with his left, and looked forth at the canoe. [illustration: he held his long rifle in his right hand, while he drew the shrubbery apart with his left, and looked forth at the canoe.] "i knew the distance was too great," he muttered, "but you will hear of me again, harvey richter. i've had a dozen chances to pick you off since you and your friends started up-stream, but i don't wish to do _that_. no, no, not that. fire away; but you can do me no more harm than i can you, at this moment." allowing the bushes to resume their wonted position, the stranger deliberately reloaded his piece and as deliberately walked away in the wood. in the meantime, the voyagers resumed their journey and were making quite rapid progress up-stream. the sun was already low in the sky, and it was not long before darkness began to envelop wood and stream. at a sign from the young man, the irishman headed the canoe toward shore. in a few moments they landed, where, if possible, the wood was more dense than usual. although quite late in the spring, the night was chilly, and they lost no time in kindling a good fire. the travelers appeared to act upon the presumption that there were no such things as enemies in this solitude. every night they had run their boat in to shore, started a fire, and slept soundly by it until morning, and thus far, strange as it may seem, they had suffered no molestation and had seen no signs of ill-will, if we except the occurrences already related. through the day, the stalwart arms of teddy, with occasional assistance from the more delicate yet firm muscles of harvey, had plied the paddle. no attempt at concealment was made. on several occasions they had landed at the invitation of indians, and, after smoking, and presenting them with a few trinkets, had departed again, in peace and good-will. not to delay information upon an important point, we may state that harvey richter was a young minister who had recently been appointed missionary to the indians. the official members of his denomination, while movements were on foot concerning the spiritual welfare of the heathen in other parts of the world, became convinced that the red-men of the american wilds were neglected, and conceding fully the force of the inference drawn thence, young men were induced to offer themselves as laborers in the savage american vineyard. great latitude was granted in their choice of ground--being allowed an area of thousands upon thousands of square miles over which the red-man roamed in his pristine barbarism. the vineyard was truly vast and the laborers few. while his friends selected stations comparatively but a short distance from the bounds of civilization, harvey richter decided to go to the far northwest. away up among the grand old mountains and majestic solitudes, hugging the rills and streams which roll eastward to feed the great continental artery called the mississippi, he believed lay his true sphere of duty. could the precious seed be deposited there, if even in a single spot, he was sure its growth would be rapid and certain, and, like the little rills, it might at length become the great, steadily-flowing source of light and life. harvey richter had read and studied much regarding the american aborigines. to choose one of the wildest, most untamed tribes for his pupils, was in perfect keeping with his convictions and his character for courage. hence he selected the present hunting-grounds of the sioux, in upper minnesota. shortly before he started he was married to cora brandon, whose devotion to her great master and to her husband would have carried her through any earthly tribulations. although she had not urged the resolution which the young minister had taken, yet she gladly gave up a luxurious home and kind friends to bear him company. there was yet another whose devotion to the young missionary was scarcely less than that of the faithful wife. we refer to the irishman, teddy, who had been a favorite servant for many years in the family of the richters. having fully determined on sharing the fortunes of his young master, it would have grieved his heart very deeply had he been left behind. he received the announcement that he was to be a life-long companion of the young man, with an expression at once significant of his pride and his joy. "be jabers, but teddy mcfadden is in luck!" and thus it happened that our three friends were ascending one of the tributaries of the upper mississippi on this balmy day in the spring of . they had been a long time on the journey, but were now nearing its termination. they had learned from the indians daily encountered, the precise location of the large village, in or near which they had decided to make their home for many and many a year to come. after landing, and before starting his fire, teddy pulled the canoe up on the bank. it was used as a sort of shelter by their gentler companion, while he and his master slept outside, in close proximity to the camp-fire. they possessed a plentiful supply of game at all times, for this was the paradise of hunters, and they always landed and shot what was needed. "we must be getting well up to the northward," remarked the young man, as he warmed his hands before the fire. "don't you notice any difference in the atmosphere, cora?" "yes; there is a very perceptible change." "if this illigant fire only keeps up, i'm thinking there'll be a considerable difference afore long. the ways yees be twisting and doubling them hands, as if ye had hold of some delightsome soap, spaaks that yees have already discovered a difference. it is better nor whisky, fire is, in the long run, providin' you don't swaller it--the fire, that is." "even if swallowed, teddy, fire is better than whisky, for fire burns only the body, while whisky burns the soul," answered the minister. "arrah, that it does; for i well remimbers the last swig i took a'most burnt a hole in me shirt, over the bosom, and they say that is where the soul is located." "ah, teddy, you are a sad sinner, i fear," laughingly observed mrs. richter, at this extravagant allusion. "a _sad_ sinner! divil a bit of it. i haven't saan the day for twinty year whin i couldn't dance at me grandmother's wake, or couldn't use a shillalah at me father's fourteenth weddin'. teddy _sad_? well, that is a--is a--a mistake," and the injured fellow further expressed his feelings by piling on the fuel until he had a fire large enough to have roasted a battalion of prize beeves, had they been spitted before it. darkness at length fairly settled upon the wood and stream; the gloom around became deep and impressive. the inevitable haunch of venison was roasting before the roaring fire, teddy watching and attending it with all the skill of an experienced cook. while thus engaged, the missionary and his wife were occupied in tracing the course of the mississippi and its tributaries upon a pocket map, which was the chief guide in that wilderness of streams and "tributaries." who could deny the vastness of the field, and the loud call for laborers, when such an immense extent then bore only the name of "unexplored region!" and yet, this same headwater territory was teeming with human beings, as rude and uncultivated as the south sea islanders. what were the feelings of the faithful couple as their eyes wandered to the left of the map, where these huge letters confronted them, we can only surmise. that they felt that ten thousand self-sacrificing men could be employed in this portion of the country we may well imagine. as the evening meal was not yet ready, the missionary folded the map and fell to musing--musing of the future he had marked out for himself; enjoying the sweet approval of his conscience, higher and purer than any enjoyment of earth. all at once came back the occurrence of the afternoon, which had been absent from his thoughts for the hour past. but, now that it was recalled, it engaged his mind with redoubled force. could he be assured that it was a red-man who had fired the shot, the most unpleasant apprehension would be dissipated; but a suspicion _would_ haunt him, in spite of himself, that it was not a red-man, but a white, who had thus signified his hostility. the rolling of the stones must have been simply to call his attention, and the rifle-shot was intended for nothing more than to signify that he was an enemy. and who could this enemy be? if a hunter or an adventurer, would he not naturally have looked upon any of his own race, whom he encountered in the wilderness, as his friends, and have hastened to welcome them? what could have been more desirable than to unite with them in a country where whites were so scarce, and almost unknown? was it not contrary to all reason to suppose that a hermit or misanthrope would have penetrated thus far to avoid his brother man, and would have broken his own solitude by thus betraying his presence? such and similar were the questions harvey richter asked himself again and again, and to all he was able to return an answer. he had decided who this strange being might possibly be. if it was the person suspected, it was one whom he had met more frequently than he wished, and he prayed that he might never encounter him again in this world. the certainty that the man had dogged him to this remote spot in the west; that he had patiently plodded after the travelers for many a day and night; that even the trackless river had not sufficed to place distance between them; that, undoubtedly, like some wild beast in his lair, he had watched richter and his companions as they sat or slumbered near their camp-fire--these, we may well surmise, served to render the missionary for the moment excessively uncomfortable, and to dull the roseate hues in which he had drawn the future. the termination of this train of thought was the sudden suspicion that this very being was at that moment in close proximity. unconsciously, harvey rose to the sitting position and looked around, half expecting to descry the too well remembered figure. "supper is waiting, and so is our appetites, be the same token in your stomachs that is in mine. how bees it with yourself, mistress cora?" the young wife had risen to her feet, and the husband was in the act of doing the same, when the sharp crack of a rifle broke the stillness, and harvey plainly heard and felt the whiz of the bullet as it passed before his eyes. "to the devil wid yer nonsense!" shouted teddy, furiously springing forward, and glaring around him in search of the author of the well-nigh fatal shot. deciding upon the quarter whence it came, he seized his ever-ready rifle, which he had learned to manage with much skill, dashed off at the top of his speed, not heeding the commands of his master, nor the appeals of mrs. richter to return. guided only by his blind rage, it happened, in this instance, that the irishman proceeded directly toward the spot where the hunter had concealed himself, and came so very near that the latter was compelled to rise to his feet to escape being trampled upon. teddy caught the outlines of a tall form tearing hurriedly through the wood, as if in terror of being caught, and he bent all his energies toward overtaking him. the gloom of the night, that had now fairly descended, and the peculiar topography of the ground, made it an exceedingly difficult matter for both to keep their feet. the fugitive, catching in some obstruction, was thrown flat upon his face, but quickly recovered himself. teddy, with a shout of exultation, sprung forward, confident that he had secured their persecutor at last, but the irishman was caught by the same obstacle and "floored" even more completely than his enemy. "bad luck to it!" he exclaimed, frantically scrambling to his feet, "but it has knocked me deaf and dumb. i'll have ye, owld haythen, yit, or me name isn't teddy mcfadden, from limerick downs." teddy's fall had given the fugitive quite an advantage, and as he was fully as fleet of foot as the irishman, the latter was unable to regain his lost ground. still, it wasn't in his nature to give in, and he dashed forward as determinedly as ever. to his unutterable chagrin, however, it was not long before he realized that the footsteps of his enemy were gradually becoming more distant. his rage grew with his adversary's gradual escape, and he would have pursued had he been certain of rushing into destruction itself. all at once he made a second fall, and, instead of recovering, went headlong down into a gully, fully a dozen feet in depth. teddy, stunned by his heavy fall, lay insensible for some fifteen or twenty minutes. he returned to consciousness with a ringing sensation in his ears, and it was some time before he could recall all the circumstances of his predicament. gradually the facts dawned upon him, and he listened. everything was oppressively still. he heard not the voice of his master, and not even the sound of any of the denizens of the wood. his first movement was to feel for his rifle, which he had brought with him in his descent, and which he found close at hand. in the act of rising, he caught the sound of a footstep, and saw, at the same instant, the outlines of a person that he knew at once could be no other than the man whom he had been pursuing. the hunter was about a dozen feet distant, and seemed perfectly aware of the irishman's presence, for he stood with folded arms, facing his pursuer. the darkness prevented teddy's discovering anything more than his enemy's outline but this was enough for a shot to do its work. teddy cautiously brought his rifle to his shoulder, and lifted the hammer. pointing it at the breast of his adversary, so as to be sure of his aim, he pulled the trigger, but there was no response. the gun either was unloaded, or had been injured by its rough usage. the dull click of the lock reached the ear of the target, who asked, in a low, gruff voice: "why do _you_ seek me? you and i have no quarrel." "a purty question, ye murtherin' haythen! i'll settle with yees, if yees only come down here like a man. jist play the wolf and belave me a sheep, and come down here for your supper." [illustration: "a purty question, ye murtherin haythen!"] "my quarrel is not with you, i tell you, but with your psalm-singing _master_--" "and ain't that _meself_?" interrupted teddy. "what's mine is his, and what's his is mine, and what's me is both, and what's both is me, barring neither one is my own, but all belong to master harvey, and miss cora, god bless their souls. don't talk of quarreling wid _him_ and being friendly to _me_, ye murtherin' spalpeen! jist come down here a bit, i say, if ye's got a spick of honor in yer rusty shirt." "my ill-will is not toward you, although, i repeat, if you step in my way you may find it a dangerous matter. you think i tried to shoot you, but you are mistaken. do you suppose i could have come as near and _missed_ without doing so on _purpose_? to-night i could have brought you and your master, or his wife, and sent you all out of the world in a twinkling. i've roamed the woods too long to miscarry at a dozen yards." teddy began to realize that the man told the truth, yet it cannot be said that his anger was abated, although a strong curiosity mingled with it. "and what's yer raison for acting in that shtyle, to as good a man as iver asked god's blessing on a sunny morning, and who wouldn't tread on one of yer corns, that is, if yer big feet isn't all corns, like a toad's back, as i suspict, from the manner in which ye leaps over the ground." "_he_ knows who i am, and he knows he has given me good cause to remind him of my existence. _he_ can tell you, if he chooses; i shall not. but let yourself and him take warning from what you already know." "and be the same token, let yourself be taking warning. as sure as i'm the ninth son of the seventh mother, i'll--" the hunter was gone! chapter ii. the adventures of a night. the echoing rock, the rushing flood, the cataract's swell, the moaning wood; the undefined and mingled hums-- voice of the desert never dumb! all these have left within this heart a feeling tongue can ne'er impart; a wildered and unearthly flame, a something that's without a name.--ettrick shepherd. with extreme difficulty, teddy made his way out of the ravine into which purposely he had been led by the hunter. he was full of aches and pains when he attempted to walk, and more than once was compelled to halt to ease his bruised limbs. as he painfully made his way back to the camp he did a vast deal of cogitation. when in extreme pain of body, produced by a mishap intentionally conceived by another, it is but following the natural law of cause and effect to feel a certain degree of exasperation toward the evil-doer; and, as the irishman at every step experienced a sharp twinge that ofttimes made him cry out, his ejaculations were neither conceived in charity nor uttered in good-will toward all men. still, he pondered deeply upon what the hunter had said, and was perplexed to know what could possibly be its meaning. the simple nature of the irishman was unable to fathom the mystery. he could not have believed even had harvey richter himself confessed to having perpetrated a crime or a wrong, that the minister had been guilty of anything sufficient to give cause of enmity. the strange hunter whom they had unexpectedly encountered several times, must be some crack-brained adventurer, the victim of a fancied wrong, who, most likely, had mistaken harvey richter for another person. what could be the object in firing at the missionary, yet taking pains that no harm should be inflicted? that was another impenetrable mystery; but, let it be comprehensible or not, the wrathful servitor inwardly vowed that, if the man crossed the path of himself or his master again, and the opportunity offered, he should shoot him down as he would a wild animal. in the midst of his absorbing reverie, teddy suddenly paused and looked around him. he was lost. shrewd enough to understand that to attempt to extricate himself would only lead into a greater entanglement, from which it might not be possible to escape at all, he wisely concluded to remain where he was until daylight. gathering a few twigs and leaves, with his well-stored "punk-box" he soon started a small fire, by the light of which he collected a sufficient quantity of fuel to last until morning. few scenes of nature are more impressive than a forest at night. that low deep roar, born of silence itself--the sad sighing of the wind--the tall, column-like trunks, resembling huge sentinels keeping guard over the mysteries of ages--the silent sea of foliage overhead, that seems to shut in a world of its own--all have an influence, peculiar, irresistible and sublime. the picket upon duty is a prey to many an imaginary danger. the rustling of a leaf, the crackling of a twig, the flitting shadows of the ever-changing clouds, are made to assume the guise of a foe, endeavoring to steal upon him unawares. again and again teddy was certain he heard the stealthy tread of the strange hunter, or some prowling indian, and his heart throbbed violently at the expected encounter. then, as the sound ceased, a sense of his utter loneliness came over him, and he pined for his old home in the states, which he had so lately left. a tremulous wail, which came faintly through the silence of the boundless woods, reminded him that there were other inhabitants of the solitude besides human beings. at such times, he drew nearer to the fire, as a child would draw near to a friend to shun an imaginary danger. but, finally the drowsy god asserted himself, and the watcher passed off into a deep slumber. his last recollection was a dim consciousness of hearing the tread of something near the camp-fire. but his stupor was so great that he had not the inclination to arouse himself, and with his face buried in the leaves of his bushy couch, he quickly lost cognizance of all things, and floated off into the illimitable realms of sleep--sleep, the sister of death. he came out of his heavy slumber from feeling something snuffing and clawing at his shoulder. he was wide awake at once, and all his faculties, even to his anger, were aroused. "git out, ye owld sarpent!" he shouted, springing to his feet. "git out, or i'll smash yer head the same as i smashed the assassin's, barring i didn't do it!" the affrighted animal leaped back several yards, as lightly as a shadow. teddy caught only a glimpse of the beast, but could plainly detect the phosphorescent glitter of his angry eyes, that watched every movement. the irishman's first proceeding was to replenish the fire. this kept the creature at a safe distance, although he began trotting around and around, as if to seek some unguarded loophole through which to compass the destruction of the man who had thus invaded his dominions. the tread of the animal resembled the rattling of raindrops upon the leaves, while its silence, its gliding motion, convinced the inexperienced irishman of the brute's exceedingly dangerous character. his rifle was too much injured to be of use and he could therefore only keep his precocious foe at a safe distance by piling on fuel until the camp-fire burned defiantly. there was no more sleep for teddy that night. he had received too great a shock, and the impending danger was too imminent for him to do any thing but watch, so long as darkness and the animal remained. several times he thought there was evidence of the presence of another beast, but he failed to discover it, and finally believed he had been mistaken. it was a tiresome and lonely occupation, this incessant watching, and teddy had recourse to several expedients to while away the weary hours. the first and most natural was that of singing. he trolled forth every song that he could recall to remembrance, and it may be truly said that he awoke echoes in those forest-aisles never before heard there. as in the pauses he heard the volume of sound that seemed quivering and swaying among the tree-trunks, like the confined air in an organ, he was awed into silence. "whist, ye son of patrick mcfadden; don't ye hear the responses all around ye, as if the spirits were in the organ loft, thinkin' ye a praist and thimselves the choir-boys. i belaves, by me sowl, that ivery tree has got a tongue, for hear how they whispers and mutters. niver did i hear the likes. no more singin', teddy my darlint, to sich an audience." he thereupon relapsed into silence, but it was only momentary. he suddenly looked out into the darkness which shrouded the still watchful beast from sight, and exclaimed: "ye owld shivering assassin, out there, did yees ever hear till how tom o'reilly got his wife? yees never did, eh? well, then, be aisy now, and i'll give yees the truths of the matter. "tom was a great, rollicking boy, that had an eye gouged out at the widow mulloney's wake, and an ugly cut that made his mouth six inches wide: and, before he got the cut, it was as broad as yer own out there. besides, his hair being of a fire's own red, you may safely say that he was not the most beautiful young man in limerick, and that there wasn't many gals that were dying of a broken heart for the same tom. "but tom thought a mighty sight of the gals and a great deal more of kitty mcguire, that lived close by the brook as yees come a mile or two out of this side of limerick. tom was possessed after that same gal, and it only made him the more determined when he found that kitty didn't like him at all. he towld the boys he was bound to have her, and any one who said he wasn't would get his head broke. "there was a little orphan girl, whose father had gone to ameriky and whose mother was dead, that was found one night, years before, in front of old mrs. mcguire's door. she was about the same age as kitty, and the owld woman took her out of kindness and brought them up together. she got to be jist as ugly a looking a gal as tom was a man. her hair was redder than his, and her face was just that freckled that yees couldn't tell which was the freckle and which was the skin itself. and her nose had a twist, on the ind of it, that made one think it had been made for a corkscrew, or some machine that you bore holes with. "this gal, molly mulligan, used to encourage tom to come to the house, and was always so mighty kind to him that he used to kiss and shpark her by way of compinsating her for her trouble. she used to take this all _very_ well, for she was a great admirer of tom's, and always spoke his praise. but tom didn't make much headway with kitty. it wasn't often that he could saa her, and when he did; she was mighty offish, and was sure to have the owld woman present, like a dumb-waiter, to be sure. she come to tell him at length that she didn't admire his coming, and that he would greatly plaise her if he would make his visits by staying away altogether. the next time tom went he found the door locked, and, after hammering a half-hour, and being towld there was no admittance, he belaved it was meant as a kind hint that his company was not agreeable. be yees listening, ye riptile? "tom might have stood it very well, if another chap hadn't begun calling on kitty about this time. he used to go airly in the evening, and not come out of the house till after midnight, so that one might belave his visits were welcome. this made tom feel mighty bad, and so he hid behind the wall and waylaid the chap one night. he would have killed the chap, his timper was so ruffled, if the man hadn't nearly killed him afore he had the chance. he laid all night in the gutter, and was just able to crawl home next day, while the fellow went a-courting the next night, as if nothing had happened. "tom begun to git melancholy, and his mouth didn't appear quite as broad as usual. molly mulligan thought he had taken slow poison and it was gradually working through his system; but he could ate his pick of praties the same as iver. but tom felt mighty bad; that fact can't be denied, and he went frequently to consult with a praist that lived near this ind of limerick, and who was knowed to cut up a trick or two during his lifetime. when tom came out one day looking bright and cheery, iverybody belaved they had been conspiring togither, and had hit on some thavish trick they was to play on little kitty mcguire. "when the moon was bright, kitty used to walk to limerick and back again of an evening. her beau most likely went with her, but sometimes she preferred to go alone, as she knowed no one would hurt a bonny little gal as herself. tom knowed of these doings, as in days gone by he had jined her once or twice. so one night he put a white sheet around him as she was coming back from limerick, and hid under the little bridge over the brook. it was gitting quite late, and the moon was just gone down, so, when she stepped on the bridge, and he came out afore her, she gave one shriek, and like to have fainted intirely. "'make no noise, or i'll ate ye up alive,' said tom, trying to talk like a ghost. "'what isht yees want?' she asked, shaking like a leaf, 'and who are yees?' "'i'm a shpirit, come to warn ye of your ill-doings.' "'i know i'm a great sinner,' she cried, covering her face with her hands; 'but i try to do as well as i can.' "'do you know tom o'reilly?' he asked, loud enough to be heard in limerick. 'you have treated him ill.' "'that i know i have,' she sobbed, 'and how can i do him justice?' "'he loves you.' "'i know he does!' "'he is a shplendid man, and will make a much bitter husband than the spalpeen that ye now looks on with favor.' "'shall i make him my husband?' "'yis; if ye wish to save yourself from purgatory. if the other man marries yees, he'll murder yees the same night.' "'oh!' shrieked the gal, as if she'd go down upon the ground, 'and how shall i save meself?' "'by marrying tom o'reilly.' "'is that the only way?' "'ay. does yees consint?' "'i do; i must do poor tom justice.' "'will ye marry him this same night?' "'that i will.' "'tom is hid under this bridge; i'll go down and bring him up, and he'll go to the praist's with yees. don't ye shtir or i'll ate yees.' "so tom whisked under the ind of the bridge, slipped off the sheet, all the time kaaping one eye cocked above to saa that kitty didn't give him the shlip. he then came up and spoke very smilingly to the gal, as though he hadn't seen her afore that night. he didn't think that his voice was jist the same. "kitty didn't say much, but she walked very quiet by his side, till they came to the praist's house at this ind of limerick. the owld fellow must have been expecting him, for before he could knock, he opened the door and let him in. the praist didn't wait long, and in five minutes he towld them they were man and wife, and nothing but death could iver make them different. tom gave a regular yell that made the windys rattle, for he couldn't kaap his faalings down. he then threw his arms around his wife, gave her another hug, and then dropped her like a hot potato. for instead of being kitty mcguire, it was molly mulligan! the owld praist wasn't so bad after all. he had told kitty and molly of tom's plans, and they had fixed the matter atween thim. "wal, the praist laughed, and tom looked melancholier than iver; but purty soon he laughed too, and took the praist's advice to make the bist of the bargain. whisht!" teddy paused abruptly, for he heard a prolonged but faint halloo. it was, evidently, the call of his master, and indicated the direction of the camp. he replied at once, and without thinking one moment of the prowling brute which might be upon him instantly, he passed beyond the protecting circle of his fire, and dashed off at top of his speed through the woods, and ere long reached the camp-fire of his friends. as he came in, he observed that mrs. richter still was asleep beneath the canoe, while her husband stood watching beside her. teddy had determined to conceal the particulars of the conversation he had held with the officious hunter, but he related the facts of his pursuit and mishap, and of his futile attempt to make his way back to camp. after this, the two seated themselves by the fire, and the missionary was soon asleep. the adventures of the night, however, affected teddy's nerves too much for him even to doze, and he therefore maintained an unremitting watch until morning. at an early hour, our friends were astir, and at once launched forth upon the river. they noted a broadening of the stream and weakening of the current, and at intervals they came upon long stretches of prairie. the canoe glided closely along, where they could look down into the clear depths of the water, and discover the pebbles glistening upon the bottom. under a point of land, where the stream made an eddy, they halted, and with their fishing-lines, soon secured a breakfast which the daintiest gourmand might have envied. they were upon the point of landing so as to kindle a fire, when mr. richter spoke: "do you notice that large island in the stream, cora? would you not prefer that as a landing-place?" "i think i should." "teddy, we'll take our morning meal there." the powerful arms of the irishman sent the frail vessel swiftly over the water, and a moment later its prow touched the velvet shore of the island. under the skillful manipulations of the young wife, who insisted upon taking charge, their breakfast was quickly prepared, and, one might say, almost as quickly eaten. they had now advanced so far to the northward that all felt an anxiety to reach their destination. accordingly no time was lost in the ascent of the stream. the exhilarating influence of a clear spring morning in the forest, is impossible to resist. the mirror-like sparkle of the water that sweeps beneath the light canoe, or glitters in the dew-drops upon the ashen blade; the golden blaze of sunshine streaming up in the heavens; the dewy woods, flecked here and there by the blossoms of some wild fruit or flower; the cool air beneath the gigantic arms all a-flutter with the warbling music of birds; all conjoin to inspire a feeling which carries us back to boyhood again--to make us young once more. as richter sat in the canoe's stern, and drank in the influence of the scene, his heart rose within him, and he could scarcely refrain from shouting. his wife, also, seemed to partake of this buoyancy, for her eyes fairly sparkled as he glanced from side to side. all at once teddy ceased paddling and pointed to the left shore. following the direction of his finger, richter saw, standing upon the bank in full view, the tall, spare figure of the strange hunter. he seemed occupied in watching them, and was as motionless as the tree-trunks behind him--so motionless, indeed, that it required a second scrutiny to prove that it really was not an inanimate object. the intensity of his observation prevented him from observing that teddy had raised his rifle from the canoe. he caught the click of the lock, however, and spoke in a sharp tone: "teddy, don't you dare to--" his remaining words were drowned in the sharp crack of the piece. "it's only to frighten him jist, master harvey. it'll sarve the good purpose of giving him the idee we ain't afeard, and if he continues his thaiving tricks, he is to be shot at sight, as a shaap-stalin' dog, that he is, to be sure." "you've hit him!" said his master, as he observed the hunter leap into the woods. "thank the lord for that, for it was an accident, and he'll l'arn we've rifles as well as himself. it's mighty little harm, howiver, is done him, if he can travel in that gay style." "i am displeased, for your shot might have taken his life, and--but, see yonder, teddy, what does that mean?" close under the opposite bank, and several hundred yards above them was discernible a long canoe, in which was seated at least a dozen indians. they were coming slowly down-stream, and gradually working their way into the center of the river. teddy surveyed them a moment and said: "that means they're after us. is it run or fight?" "neither; they are undoubtedly from the village, and we may as well meet them here as there. what think you, dear wife?" "let us join them, by all means, at once." all doubts were soon removed, when the canoe was headed directly toward them, and under the propulsion of the many skillful arms, it came like a bird over the surface of the waters. a few rods away its speed was slackened, and, before approaching closer, it made a circuit around the voyageurs' canoe, as if the warriors were anxious to assure themselves there was no decoy or design in this unresisting surrender. evidently satisfied that it was a _bona fide_ affair, the indians swept up beside our friends, and one of the warriors, stretching out his hands, said: "gib guns me--gib guns." "begorrah, but it would be mighty plaisant to us, if it would be all the same to yees, if ye'd be clever enough to let us retain possission of 'em," said teddy, hesitating about complying with the demand. "they might do ye some injury, ye know, and besides, i didn't propose to--" "let them have them," said richter. the irishman reluctantly obeyed, and while he passed his rifle over with his left hand, he doubled up his right, shaking it under the savage's nose. "ye've got me gun, ye old log of walnut, but ye hain't got me fists, begorrah, but, by the powers, ye shall have them some of these fine mornings whin yer eyes want opening." "teddy, be silent!" sharply commanded the missionary. but the indians, understanding the significance of the irishman's gestures, only smiled at them, and the chief who had taken his gun, nodded his head, as much as to say he, too, would enjoy a fisticuff. when the whites were defenseless, one of the savages vaulted lightly into their canoe, and took possession of the paddle. "i'm highly oblaiged to ye," grinned teddy, "for me arms have been waxin' tired ever sin' i l'arned the injin way of driving a canoe through the water. when ye gets out o' breath jist ax another red-skin to try his hand, while i boss the job." the canoes were pulled rapidly up-stream. this settled that the whites were being carried to the village which was their original destination. both harvey and his wife were rather pleased than otherwise with this, although the missionary would have preferred an interview or conversation in order to make himself and intentions known. he was surprised at the knowledge they displayed of the english language. he overheard words exchanged between them which were as easy to understand as much of teddy's talk. they must be, therefore, in frequent communication with white men. their location was so far north that, as richter plausibly inferred, they were extensive dealers in furs and peltries, which must be disposed of to traders and the agents of the american fur and hudson bay companies. the selkirk or red river settlement also, must be at an easily accessible distance. it may seem strange that it never occurred to the captives that the savages might do them harm. in fact, nothing but violence itself would have convinced the missionary that such was contemplated. he had yielded himself, heart and soul, to his work; he felt an inward conviction that he was to accomplish great good. trials and sufferings of all imaginable kinds he expected to undergo, but his life was to be spared until the work was accomplished. of that he never experienced a moment's doubt. our readers will bear in mind that the period of which we write, although but a little more than forty years since, was when the territory west of the mississippi was almost entirely unknown. trappers, hunters and fur-traders in occasional instances, penetrated into the heart of the mighty solitude. lewis and clarke had made their expedition to the head-waters of the columbia, but the result of all these visits, to the civilized world, was much the same as that of the adventurers who have penetrated into the interior of africa. it was known that on the northwest dwelt the warlike blackfeet, the implacable foes of every white man. there, also, dwelt other tribes, who seemed resolved that none but their own race should dwell upon that soil. again, there were others with whom little difficulty was experienced in bartering and trading, to the great profit of the adventurous whites, and the satisfaction of the savages; still, the shrewd traders knew better than to trust to indian magnanimity or honor. their reliance under heaven, was their tact in managing the savages, and their own goodly rifles and strong arms. the sioux were among the latter class, and with them it was destined that the lot of harvey richter and his wife should be cast. the indian village was reached in the course of a couple of hours. it was found to be much larger than richter could have anticipated. the missionary soon made known his character and wishes. this secured an audience with the leading chief, when harvey explained his mission, and asked permission for himself and companions to settle among them. with the ludicrous dignity so characteristic of his people, the chief deferred his reply until the following day, at which time he gave consent, his manner being such as to indicate that he was rather unwilling than otherwise. that same afternoon, the missionary collected the dusky children of the forest together and preached to them, as best he could, through the assistance of a rude interpreter. he was listened to respectfully by the majority, among whom were several whom he inferred already had heard the word of life. there were others, however, to whom the ceremony was manifestly distasteful. the hopeful minister felt that his master had directed him to this spot, and that now his real life-work had begun. chapter iii. the jug acquaintances. with that dull, callous, rooted impudence, which, dead to shame and every nicer sense, ne'er blushed, unless, when spreading vice's snares, he stumbled on some virtue unawares.--churchill. a year has passed since the events recorded in the preceding pages, and it is summer again. far up, beside one of those tributaries of the mississippi, in the western portion of what is now the state of minnesota, stands a small cabin, such as the early settlers in new countries build for themselves. about a quarter of a mile further up the stream is a large sioux village, separated from the hut by a stretch of woods through which runs a well-worn footpath. this arrangement the young missionary, harvey richter, preferred rather than to dwell in the indian village. while laboring with all his heart and soul to regulate these degraded people, and while willing to make their troubles and afflictions his own, he still desired a seclusion where his domestic cares and enjoyments were safe from constant interruption. this explains why his cabin had been erected at such a distance from his people. every day, no matter what might be the weather, the missionary visited the village, and each sabbath afternoon, when possible, service was held. this was almost invariably attended by the entire population, who now listened attentively to what was uttered, and often sought to follow the counsels uttered by the good man. a year's residence had sufficed to win the respect and confidence of the indians, and to convince the faithful servant that the seed he had sown was already springing up and bearing fruit. about a mile from the river, in a dense portion of the wood, are seated two persons, in friendly converse. but a glance would be required to reveal that one of these was our old friend teddy, in the most jovial and communicative of moods. the other, painted and bedaubed until his features were scarcely recognizable, and attired in the gaudy indian apparel, sufficiently explains his identity. a small jug sitting between them, and which is frequently carried to the mouth of each, may disclose why, on this particular morning, they seemed on such confidential terms. the sad truth was that the greatest drawback to harvey richter's ministrations was his own servant teddy. the indians could not understand why he who lived constantly with the missionary, should be so careless and reckless, and should remain "without the fold," when the good man exhorted them in such earnest language to become christians. it was incomprehensible to their minds, and served to fill more than one with a suspicion that all was not what it should be. harvey had spent many an hour with teddy, in earnest, prayerful expostulation, but, thus far, to no purpose. for six months after the advent of the missionary and his wife, nothing had been seen or heard of the strange hunter, when, one cold winter's morning, as the former was returning from the village through the path, a rifle was discharged, and the bullet whizzed within an inch or two of his eyes. he might have believed it to be one of the indians, had he not secured a fair look at the man as he ran away. he said nothing of it to his wife or teddy, although it occasioned him much trouble and anxiety of mind. a month or two later, when teddy was hunting in the woods, and had paused a moment for rest, a gun was discharged at him, from a thick mass of undergrowth. certain that the unknown hunter was at hand, he dashed in as before, determined to bring the transgressor to a personal account. teddy could hear him fleeing, and saw the agitation of the undergrowth, but did not catch even a glimpse of his game. while prosecuting the search, teddy suddenly encountered an indian, staggering along with a jug in his hand. the savage manifested a friendly disposition, and the two were soon seated upon the ground, discussing the fiery contents of the vessel and exchanging vows of eternal friendship. when they separated it was with the understanding that they were to meet again in a couple of days. both kept the appointment, and since that unlucky day they had encountered quite frequently. where the indian obtained the liquor was a mystery, but it was an attraction that never failed to draw teddy forth into the forest. the effect of alcoholic stimulants upon persons is as various as are their temperaments. the american indian almost always becomes sullen, vindictive and dangerous. now and then there is an exception, as was the case with the new-made friend of teddy. both were affected in precisely a similar manner; both were jolly. "begorrah, but yees are a fine owld gintleman, if yer face does look like a paint-jug, and ye isn't able to lay claim to one-half the beauty meself possesses. that ye be," said teddy, a few moments after they had seated themselves, and before either had been affected by the poisonous liquid. "i loves you!" said the savage, betraying in his manner of speech a remarkable knowledge of the english language. "i think of you when i sleep--i think of you when i open my eyes--i think of you all the time." "much obleeged; it's meself that thinks and meditates upon your beauty and loving qualities all the time, barring that in which i thinks of something else, which is about all the time--all the same to yer honor." "loves you very much," repeated the savage; "love mister harvey, too, and miss harvey." "then why doesn't ye come to hear him preach, ye rose of the wilderness?" "don't like preaching." "did yees ever hear him?" "neber hear him." "yer oughter come; and that minds me i've never saan ye around the village, for which i axes yees the raison?" "me ain't sioux--don't like 'em." "whinever yees are discommoded with this jug, p'raps it wouldn't be well for yees to cultivate the acquaintance of any one except meself, for they might be dispoused to relave yees of the article, when yees are well aware it's an aisy matter for us to do that ourselves. where does yees get the jug?" [illustration: "where does yees get the jug?"] "had him good while." "i know; but the contents i mean. where is it ye secures the vallyble contents?" "me get 'em," was the intelligent reply.. "that's what i've been supposing, that yees was gitting more nor your share; so here's to prevint," remarked teddy, as he inverted the jug above his head. "now, me butternut friend, what 'bjections have yees to that?" "all right--all be good--like miss harvey?" teddy stared at the savage, as if he failed to take in his question. "like miss harvey--good man's squaw--t'ink she be good woman?" "the loveliest that iver trod the airth--bless her swate soul. she niver has shpoken a cross word to teddy, for all he's the biggest scamp that iver brought tears to her eyes. if there be any thing that has nigh fotched this ould shiner to his marrowbones it was to see something glistening in her eyes," said the irishman, as he wiped his own. "god bliss miss cora," he added, in the same manner of speech that he had been wont to use before she became a wife. "she might make any man glad to come and live alone in the wilderness wid her. it's meself that ought to be ashamed to come away and l'ave her alone by herself, though i thinks even a wild baste would not harm a hair of her blissid head. if it wasn't for this owld whisky-jug i wouldn't be l'aving her," said teddy, indignantly. "how be 'lone?--mister harvey dere." "no, he isn't, by a jug-full--barring the jug must be well-nigh empty, and the divil save the jug, inny-how; but not until it's impty." "where mr. harvey go, if not in cabin?" asked the savage, betraying a suspicious eagerness that would have been observed by teddy upon any other occasion. "to the village, that he may preach and hould converse wid 'em. i allers used to stay at home when he's gone, for fear that owld thaif of a hunter might break into the pantry and shtail our wines--that is, if we had any, which we haven't. blast his sowl--that hunter i mane, an' if iver i cotch him, may i be used for a flail if i don't settle _his_ accounts." "when mister harvey go to village?" "whin he plaises, which is always in the afternoon, whin his dinner has had a fair chance to sittle. does ye take him for a michanic, who goes to work as soon as he swallows his bread and mate?" said the irishman, with official dignity. "why you not stay with squaw?" "that's the raison," replied teddy, imbibing from the vessel beside him. "but you will plaise not call miss cora a _shquaw_ any more. if ye does, it will be at the imminent risk of havin' this jug smashed over yer head, afther the whisky is all gone, which it very soon will be if a plug isn't put into your mouth." "nice woman--_much_ good." "you may well say that, mister copperskin, and say nothing else. and it's a fine man is mister harvey, barring he runs me purty close once in a while on the moral quishtion. i'm afeard i shall have to knock under soon. if i could but slay that thaif of a hunter that has been poking around here, i think i could go the christian aisy; but whin i thinks of _that_ man, i faals like the divil himself. they's no use tryin' to be pious whin _he's_ around; so pass the jug if ye don't mane to fight meself." "he bad man--much bad," said the savage, who had received an account of him from his companion. "i promised master harvey not to shoot the villain, excipt it might be to save his life or me own; but i belave if i had the chance, i'd jist conveniently _forgit_ me promise, and let me gun go off by accident. st. pathrick! _wouldn't_ i like to have a shindy wid the sn'akin, mean, skulkin' assassin!" "does he want kill you?" "arrah, be aisy now; isn't it me master he's after, and what's the difference? barring i would rather it was meself, that i might sittle it gintaaly wid him;" and teddy, "squaring" himself, began to make threatening motions at the indian's head. "bad man--why not like mr. harvey?" said the savage, paying no attention to teddy's demonstrations. "there yees has me. there's something atween 'em, though what it might be none but mr. harvey himself knows, less it mought be the misthress, that i don't belave knows a word on it. but what is it yer business, mr. mahogany?" "mebbe mr. harvey hurt him some time--do bad with him," added the indian, betraying an evident interest in the subject. "begorrah, if yees can't talk better sinse nor that, ye'd bist put a stopper on yer blab. the idaa of me master harming any one is too imposterous to be intertained by a fraa and inlightened people--a fraa and inlightened people, as i used to spell out in the newspapers at home. but whisht! ye are a savage, as don't know anything about fourth of july, an' all the other affections of the people." "you dunno what mebbe he done." "do ye know?" asked teddy, indignantly. "nebber know what he do--how me know?" "thin what does ye mane by talking in that shtyle? i warns ye, there's some things that can't be passed atween us and that is one of 'em. if ye wants to fight, jist you say that again. i'm aching for a shindy anyhow: so now s'pose ye jist say that again." and teddy began to show unmistakable signs of getting ready. "sorry--didn't mean--feel bad." "oh blarney! why didn't ye stick to it, and jist give me a chance to express meself? but all's right; only, be careful and don't say anything like it again, that's all. pass along the jug, to wash me timper down, ye know." by this time teddy's ideas were beginning to be confused, and his manner maudlin. he had imbibed freely, and was paying the consequences. the savage, however, had scarcely taken a swallow, although he had made as if to do so several times. his actions would have led an inexperienced person to think that he was under the influence of liquor; but he was sober, and his conduct was feigned, evidently, for some purpose of his own. teddy grew boisterous, and insisted on constantly shaking hands and renewing his pledges of eternal friendship to the savage, who received and responded to them in turn. finally, he squinted toward the westering sun. "i told mr. harvey, when i left, i was going to hunt, and if i expects to return to-day, i thinks, mr. black walnut, we should be on our way. the jug is intirely impty, so there is no occasion for us to remain longer." "dat so--me leave him here." "now let's shake hands agin afore we rise." the shaking of hands was all an excuse for teddy to receive assistance in rising to his feet. he balanced himself a moment, and stared around him, with that aimless, blinking stare peculiar to a drunken man. "me honey, isn't there an airthquake agitatin' this solitude?" he asked, steadying himself against a sapling, "or am i standing on a jug?" "dunno--mebbe woods shake--feel him a little--earth must be sick," said the savage, feigning an unsteadiness of the head. "begorrah, but it's ourselves that's the sickest," laughed teddy, fully sensible of his sad condition. "it'll niver do to return to master harvey in _this_ shtyle. there'd be a committee of investigation appointed on the spot, an' i shouldn't pass muster excipt for a whisky-barrel, och hone!" "little sick--soon be well--then shoot." "i wonder now whether i could howld me gun straight enough to drop a buffler at ten paces. there sits a bird in that tree that is grinning at me. i'll t'ach him bitter manners." the gun was discharged, the bullet passing within a few inches of the head of the indian, who sprung back with a grunt. "a purty good shot," laughed teddy; "but it _would_ be rayther tiresome killing game, being i could only hit them as run behind me, and being i can't saa in that direction, i'll give over the idaa; and turn me undivided attention to fishing. ah, divil a bit of difference is it to the fish, whin a worm is on the right ind, whether a drunken man or a gintleman is at the other." the indian manifested a readiness to assist every project of the irishman, and he now advised him to fish by all means, urging that they should proceed to the river at once. but teddy insisted upon going to a small creek near at hand. the savage strongly demurred, but finally yielded, and the two set out, making their way somewhat after the fashion of a yoke of oxen. upon reaching the stream, teddy, instead of pausing upon the bank, continued walking on until he was splashing up to his waist in water. had it not been for the prompt assistance of the indian, the poor fellow most probably would have had his earthly career terminated. this incident partially sobered teddy, and made him ashamed of his condition. he saw the savage was by no means so far gone as himself, and he bewailed his foolishness in unmeasured terms. "who knows but master harvey has gone to the village, and miss cora stands in the door this minute, 'xpacting this owld spalpaan?" "no go till arternoon," said the savage. "what time might it be jist now?" "'tain't noon yit--soon be--bimeby." "it's all the same; i shan't be fit to go home afore night, whin i might bist stay away altogether. and you, mr. copperskin, was the maans of gittin' me in this trouble." "_me_ make you drink him?" asked the savage. "you not ax for jug, eh? you not want him?" "yes, begorrah, it was me own fault. whisky is me waikness. its illigant perfume always sits me wild fur it. mister harvey was belaving, whin he brought me here, that i wouldn't be drinking any of the vile stuff, for the good rais'n that i couldn't git none; but, what'll he say now? niver was i drunker at donnybrook, and only once, an' that was at me father's fourteenth weddin'." "don't want more?" "no!" thundered teddy. "i hope i may niver see nor taste another drop so long as i live. i here asserts me ancient honor agin, an' i defy the jug, ye spalpeen of a barbarian what knows no better." teddy's reassertion of dignity was very ludicrous, for a tree had to support him as he spoke; but he evidently was in earnest. "neber gib it--if don't want it." "they say an indian never will tell a lie to a friend," said teddy, dropping his voice as if speaking to himself. "do you ever lie, mr. what's-your-name?" "no," replied the savage, thereby uttering an unmitigated falsehood. "you give me your promise, then, that ye'll niver furnish me anither drap?" "yis." "give me yer hand." the two shook hands, teddy's face, despite its vacant expression, lighting up for the time with a look of delight. "now i'll fish," said teddy. "p'raps it is best that ye l'ave these parts; not that i intertains inmity or bad-will toward you, but thin ye know----hello! yees are gone already, bees you?" the indian had departed, and teddy turned his attention toward securing the bait. in a few moments he had cast the line out in the stream and was sound asleep, in which condition he remained until night set in. chapter iv. an ominous rencounter. "i will work him to an exploit now rich in my device, under the which he shall not choose but fall." the sun passed the meridian, on that summer day in and harvey richter, the young missionary, came to the door of his cabin, intending to set forth upon his walk to the indian village. it was rather early; the day was pleasant and as his wife followed him, he lingered awhile upon the steps, loth to leave a scene of such holy joy. the year which the two had spent in that wilderness had been one of almost unalloyed happiness. the savages, among whom they had come to labor, had received them more kindly than they deemed it right to anticipate, and had certified their esteem for them in numberless ways. the missionary felt that a blessing was upon his labor. an infant had been given them, and the little fellow brought nothing but gladness and sunlight into the household. ah! none but a father can tell how precious the blue-eyed image of his mother was to harvey richter; none but a mother can realize the yearning affection with which she bent over the sleeping cherub; and but few can enter into the rollicking pride of teddy over the little stranger. at times, his manifestations were fairly uproarious, and it became necessary to check them, or to send him further into the woods to relieve himself of his exuberant delight. harvey lingered upon the threshold, gazing dreamily away at the mildly-flowing river, or at the woods, through which for a considerable distance, he could trace the winding path which his own feet had worn. cora, his wife, stood beside him, looking smilingly down in his face, while her left hand toyed with a stray ringlet that would protrude itself from beneath her husband's cap. "cora, are you sorry that we came into this wild country?" the smile on her face grew more radiant, as she shook her head without speaking. she was in that pleasant, dreamy state, in which it seems an effort to speak--so much so that she avoided it until compelled to do so by some direct question. "you are perfectly contented--happy, are you?" again the same smile, as she answered in the affirmative by an inclination of the head. "you would not change it for a residence at home with your own people if you could?" the same sweet denial in pantomime. "do you not become lonely sometimes, cora, hundreds of miles away from the scenes of your childhood?" "have i not my husband and boy?" she asked, half reproachfully, as the tears welled up in her eyes. "can i ask more?" "i have feared sometimes, when i've been in the village, that perhaps you were lonely and sorrowful, and often i have hurried my footsteps that i might be with you a few moments sooner. when preaching and talking to the indians, my thoughts would wander away to you and the dear little fellow there. and what husband could prevent them?" said harvey, impulsively, as he drew his wife to him, and kissed her again and again. "you must think of the labor before you." "there is scarcely a moment of my life in which i don't, but it is impossible to keep you and him from my mind. i am sorry that i am compelled to leave you alone so often. it seems to me that teddy has acted in a singular manner of late. he is absent every afternoon. he says he goes hunting and yet he rarely, if ever, brings anything back with him." "yesterday he returned shortly after you left, and acted so oddly, i did not know what to make of him. he appeared very anxious to keep me at a distance, but once he came close enough for me to catch his breath, and if it did not reveal the fumes of liquor then i was never more mistaken in my life." "impossible! where could he obtain it?" "the question i asked myself and which i could not answer; nevertheless his manner and the evidence of his own breath proved it beyond all doubt to my mind. you have noticed how set he is every afternoon about going away in the woods. such was not his custom, and i think makes it certain some unusual attraction calls him forth." "what can it all mean?" asked the missionary of himself. "no; it cannot be that he brought any of the stuff with him and concealed it in the boat. it must have been discovered." "every article that came with us is in this house." "then some one must furnish him with it, and who now can it be?" "are there not some of your people who are addicted to the use of liquor?" "alas! there are too many who cannot withstand the tempter; but i never yet heard of an indian who knew how to _make_ it. it is only when they visit some of the ports, or the red river settlement, that they obtain it. or perhaps a trader may come this way, and bring it with him." "and could not teddy have obtained his of such a man?" "there has been none here since last autumn, and then those who visited the village had no liquor with them. they always come to the village first so that i could not avoid learning of their presence. let me see, he has been away since morning?" "yes; he promised an early return." "he will probably make his appearance in the course of an hour or so. watch him closely. i will be back sooner to-day, and we shall probe this matter to the bottom. good-by!" again he embraced his wife, and then strode rapidly across the clearing in the direction of the woods. his wife watched his form winding in and out among the trees, until it finally disappeared from view; and then, waiting a few moments longer, as if loth to withdraw her gaze from the spot where she had last seen him, she finally turned within the house to engage in her domestic duties. the thrifty housewife has seldom an idle moment on her hands, and cora passed hither and thither, performing the numerous little acts that were not much in themselves, but collectively were necessary, if not indispensable, in her household management. occasionally she paused and bent over her child, that lay sleeping on the bed, and like a fond mother, could not restrain herself from softly touching her lips to its own, although it was at the imminent risk of awaking it. an hour passed. she went to the door and looked out to see whether teddy was in sight; but the woods were as silent as if they contained no living thing. far away over the river, nearly opposite the indian village, she saw two canoes crossing the stream, resembling ordinary-sized water-birds in the distance. these, so in harmony with the lazy, sunshiny afternoon, were all that gave evidence that man had ever invaded this solitude. cora richter could but be cheerful, and, as she moved to and fro, she sung a hymn, one that was always her husband's favorite. she sung it unconsciously, from her very blithesomeness of spirits, not knowing she was making music which the birds themselves might have envied. all at once her ear caught the sound of a footstep, and confident that teddy had come, she turned her face toward the door to greet him. she uttered a slight scream, as she saw, instead of the honest hibernian, the form of a towering, painted savage, glaring in upon her. ordinarily such a visitor would have occasioned her no surprise or alarm. in fact, it was rare that a day passed without some indian visiting the cabin--either to consult with the missionary himself, or merely to rest a few moments. sometimes several called together, and it often happened that they came while none but the wife was at home. they were always treated kindly, and were respectful and pleased in turn. during the nights in winter, when the storm howled through the forest, a light burned at the missionary's window, and many a savage, who belonged often to a distant tribe, had knocked at the door and secured shelter until morning. ordinarily we say, then, the visit of an indian gave the young wife no alarm. but there was something in the appearance of this painted sinewy savage that filled her with dread. there was a treacherous look in his black eyes, and a sinister expression visible in spite of vermilion and ocher, that made her shrink from him, as she would have shrunk from some loathsome monster. as the reader may have surmised, he was no other than daffodil or mahogany, who had left teddy on purpose to visit the cabin, while both the servant and his master were absent. in spite of the precaution used, he had taken more liquor than he intended; and, as a consequence, was just in that reckless state of mind, when he would have hesitated at no deed, however heinous. from a jovial, good-natured indian, in the company of the hibernian, he was transformed into a sullen, vindictive savage in the presence of the gentle wife of harvey richter. he supported himself against the door and seemed undecided whether to enter or not. the alarm of cora richter was so excessive that she endeavored to conceal it. "what do you wish?" she asked. "where misser richter?" "gone to the village," she replied, bravely resolving that no lie should cross her lips if her life depended upon it. "when come back?" "in an hour or so perhaps." "where ted?" "he has gone hunting." "big lie--he drunk--don't know nothing--lay sleep on ground." "how do you know? did you see him?" "me gib him fire-water--much like it--drink good deal--tumble over like tree hain't got root." "did you ever give it him before?" asked the young wife, her curiosity supplanting her alarm for the moment. "gib him offin--gib him every day--much like it--drink much." again the wife's instinctive fear came back to her, and she endeavored to conceal it by a calm, unimpassioned exterior. "won't you come in and rest yourself until mr. richter returns?" "don't want to see him," replied the savage, sullenly. "who do you wish to see then?" "you--t'ink much of you." the wife felt as if she would sink to the floor. there was something in the tones of his voice that had alarmed her from the first. she was almost certain this savage intended rudeness, now that he knew the missionary himself was gone. she glanced up at the rifle which was hung above the fireplace. it was charged, and she had learned how to fire it since her marriage. several times she was on the point of springing up and seizing it and placing herself upon the defensive. her heart throbbed wildly at the thought, but she finally concluded to resort to such an act only at the last moment. she might still conciliate the indian by kindness, and after all, perhaps he meditated no harm or rudeness. "come and sit down then, and talk with me awhile," said she, as pleasantly as it was possible. the savage stumbled forward a few feet, and dropped into a seat, where he glared fully a minute straight into the face of the woman. this was the most trying ordeal of all, especially when she raised her own blue eyes, and addressed him. it seemed impossible to combat the fierce light of those orbs, although she bore their scrutiny like a heroine. he had seated himself near the door, but he was close enough for her to detect the fumes of the liquor he had drank, and she knew a savage was never so dangerous as when in a half-intoxicated condition. "have you come a long distance?" she asked. "good ways--live up north." "you are not a sioux, then?" "no--don't like sioux--bad people." "why do you come in their neighborhood--in their country?" "'cause i want to--_come see you_." "you must come again--" at this juncture, the child in the cradle awoke and began crying. the face of the savage assumed an expression of ferocity, and he said, abruptly: "stop noise--me tomahawk if don't." as he spoke he laid his hand in a threatening manner upon his tomahawk, and the mother sprung up and lifted the infant in her arms for the purpose of pacifying it. the dreadful threat had almost unnerved her, for she believed the savage would carry it out upon the slightest pretext. but before that tomahawk should reach her child, the mother must be stricken to the earth. she pressed it convulsively to her breast, and it quickly ceased its cries. she waited until it closed its eyes in slumber and then some impulse prompted her to lay it upon the bed, and to place herself between it and the indian, so that she might be unimpeded in her movements if the savage should attempt harm to her or her offspring. several moments now passed without the indian speaking. the interval was occupied by him in looking around the room and examining every portion upon which it was possible to rest his gaze. the survey completed, he once more fixed his scrutiny upon the young wife, and suddenly spoke in his sententious, abrupt manner. "want sunkin eat." this question was a relief, for it afforded the wife an opportunity of expressing her kindness; but, at the same time, it caused a more rapid beating of her heart, since to procure what was asked, she would be compelled to pass out of the door, and thus not only approach him much more closely than she was willing, but it would be necessary to leave him alone with her infant until her return. she was in a painful dilemma, to decide whether it was best to refuse the visitor's request altogether or to comply with it, trusting to providence to protect them both. a casual glance at the indian convinced her that it would be dangerous to thwart his wishes longer; and, with an inward prayer to god, she arose and approached the door. as she passed near him, he moved and she involuntarily quickened her step, until she was outside. the indian did not follow, and she hurried on her errand. she had gone scarcely a yard, when she heard him walking across the floor, and detected at the same moment, the cry of her infant. fairly beside herself with terror, she ran back in the house, and saw the savage taking down her husband's rifle. the revulsion of her feelings brought tears to her eyes, and she said: "i wish you would go away, i don't like you." "kiss me--den i go!" said he, stepping toward her. "keep away! keep away!" she screamed, retreating to the door and yet fearing to go out. "kiss me--tomahawk pappoose!" said the savage, placing his hand upon the weapon. the young wife placed her hands over her face and sobbed aloud. she did not hear the cat-like footsteps of the savage, as he approached. his long arm was already stretched forth to clasp her, when the door was darkened, a form leaped into the room, and with the quickness of lightning, dealt the savage a tremendous blow that stretched him limp and lifeless upon the floor. [illustration: dealt the savage a tremendous blow.] "move a limb and i will kill you!" shouted the young missionary, his face all ablaze with passion. "cora, has he harmed you?" "no, no, no, harvey; have you not already killed him?" "pity that i haven't. he is not fit to live." "dear harvey, you are carried away by your passion. do restrain yourself." woman-like, the only emotion of cora richter was that of commiseration for the poor wretch that had been stricken down by the hand of her husband. she saw the blood trickling from his face and knew that he was dreadfully injured. the missionary, too, began to become more calm and collected; and yet, while regretting the occasion, he could but think he had done his simple duty to his insulted wife. had he been prepared as he entered the door, he would have shot the savage dead in his tracks. harvey picked up his rifle that lay in the middle of the floor, and approached the prostrate indian. after pushing and shaking, he gave signs of returning consciousness, and at length arose to his feet. his nose had bled copiously, and one eye was "closed," as if he had been under the manipulation of some pugilist. the wife brought a basin of water, and offered a bandage, while harvey proffered his assistance. but the indian, without speaking, motioned them aside, and made his way out the door. on the threshold he paused a moment and looked back--and that look harvey richter will remember to his dying day. both breathed freer when he had gone. they then looked in each other's faces a moment and the wife sunk into her husband's arms. "did i not do right, cora?" "yes; oh, yes; but, harvey, this will not be the last of it. you have made an enemy of that indian, and he can never be made a friend." "such is often the result of doing your simple duty. let us therefore trust to god and say no more about it. ah! here comes teddy." the irishman at this moment entered the door. he was still under the influence of liquor though he made ludicrous efforts to conceal it. the wife found opportunity to communicate to her husband all that had been told her, before the conversation had progressed far. the peril which she had so narrowly escaped decided the missionary to be severely just with his servant. "teddy, where have you been?" "won't that spake for itself?" he replied, holding up a handsome string of fish. "begorrah, but it was mighty poor luck i had hunting." "i should judge you had discovered something unusual from your strange actions." the face of the irishman flushed scarlet, and his confusion was distressing. "teddy," he continued, "i am displeased at the manner in which you have acted for the last week or two. had it not happened that i left the village sooner than usual to-day, most probably my wife and son would have been killed." the fellow was completely sobered. "what is it ye say, mister harvey?" "for several days you have failed to return in the time you promised, so that i have been compelled to leave them alone and unprotected. this afternoon, an indian came in the house and threatened the life of both my wife and child--" "where the divil is he?" demanded teddy, springing up; "i'll brake ivery bone in his body." "he is gone, never to return i trust." "be the powers! if i could but maat him--" "do not add falsehood to your conduct. he said that you and he have met constantly and drank liquor together." the expression of blank amazement was so genuine and laughable that the missionary could hardly repress a smile. he felt that his last remark was hardly fair. teddy finally burst out. "'twas that owld mahogany copperskin; but did i iver 'xpact he was up to _sich_ a trick and he would niver have l'aved me a-fishing. oorah, oorah!" he muttered, gnashing his teeth together. "what a miserable fool i _have_ been. he to come here and insult me mistress after professin' the kindest regards. may i be made to eat rat-tail files for potaties if iver i trust red-skin honor again!" "it strikes me that you and this precious savage had become quite intimate. i suppose in a few weeks longer you would have left us and lived with him altogether." the tears trickled down teddy's cheeks, and he made answer in a meek, mournful tone: "plaise forgive me, mister harvey, and miss cora. yees both knows i would die for yees, and it was little i dr'amed of a savage iver disecrating this house by an ungentlemanly act. teddy never'll sarve yees the like agin." "i have no faith in the promises of a man who is intemperate." the irishman raised his hand to heaven: "may the good father above strike me dead if i iver swallow another drop! do yees belave me now. mister harvey?" "you must not place the reliance in your own power, teddy. ask his assistance and you'll succeed." "i'll do so; but, ye saa, the only mill where i could get the cursed stuff was of this same indian, and as i politely towld him i'd practice wid me gun on him if he offered me anither drop, and, as i'd pick him off now, after this shine, as quick as i would a sarpent, it ain't likely he'll bother me agin." "i hope not, but i have the same apprehension as cora that he will return when we least expect him. we must manage so that we are never both away from the house at the same time. it is now getting well along in the afternoon, teddy; you may prepare your fish for supper." the irishman obediently moved away, and the young missionary and his wife were left together. chapter v. gone! alas, alas, fair inez, she went away with song, in sounds that sang farewell, farewell to her you've loved so long.--hood. alertness or watchfulness is sure to succeed the accomplishment of an enemy's designs. the moment danger is over, then the most vigilant preparations against it are made. the burglar knows better than to visit the same house two nights in succession. he is wise enough to wait until time has lulled the inmates into fancied security. with such an interest at stake as had harvey richter, one may well believe that no precaution was neglected which could operate to defeat the designs of the savage whom he had driven in anger from his door. he changed his hour of visitation from the afternoon to the forenoon. teddy needed no admonition against leaving the house during his absence. he kept watch and ward over the house as if he would atone by vigilance for past shortcomings. the missionary had dwelt long enough among the indians to gain a pretty accurate estimate of their character. what troubled him most, therefore, was a conviction that the savage's revenge, though delayed for ten years, for want of the convenient opportunity, was sure to be accomplished. he might have gone immediately to the north or east, there to remain with his own tribe until convinced that the moment had come to strike the blow--a blow, which no human influence, no personal danger, no suffering, could persuade him from inflicting upon the offending white man. but there was no certainty even of delay. did the savage believe the moment to strike propitious, he would be ready for the trial. even then, he might be skulking in the woods, with his black eyes fixed upon the cabin. it will be perceived, that, did he contemplate the death of either of the parties concerned, he could have compassed it without difficulty. opportunities offered every day for the fatal bullet to reach its mark; but the _insult_ to the indian was so great, that he contemplated a far sweeter compensation than death itself. whatever that might be, time would be sure to develop it, and that, too, at the moment when least expected. this fear became so ever-present and troublesome, that the missionary made it known in the village, where he could command the services of half a hundred warriors. a dozen at once made search through the woods to ascertain whether the savage was concealed anywhere in the vicinity. one of these chanced upon a trail, which, after following some distance, was lost in the river. this, however, he pronounced to be the trail of a _white man_. the suspected indian evidently, had fled, and no trace was discovered of him. another source of annoyance was opened to harvey. since the shot at teddy, nothing had occurred to remind them of the existence of the strange hunter, whose mysterious warnings had accompanied their advent into the country. richter could not believe that the man had left altogether, but regarded his actions with considerable equanimity, as it was apparent that his warning shots were intended rather to frighten than to kill. harvey never would converse with his wife about this white foe, and had cautioned teddy not to allude to him in her presence. the missionary had a strong hope that, some day, he would be brought face to face with this stranger, when an explanation would be secured and the annoyance ended. he therefore repeated his warning to the irishman not to shoot the hunter, unless compelled to do so to save his own life; but rather to use every effort to secure him and bring him to the cabin. about a week after the occurrence narrated, teddy went fishing, leaving the husband and wife together. he followed the shore of the river about a half-mile downward, when he settled himself by a huge rock that projected a few feet into the water. he had just thrown his line into the stream, when he heard the crackling of bushes behind him, and, turning, saw the hunter walking in a direction parallel with the river, with his head bent, as if in thought. apparently he was unsuspicious of the presence of any one. teddy at once sunk down to screen himself as he watched the movements of his old foe, out of all manner of patience with himself that he had left his rifle at home, and possessed only the arms that nature had furnished him. still, he resolved that the man should be secured, if possible. "arrah, now, be aisy!" he whispered, "and yees may cotch a fish that didn't nibble at yer bait. whisht! but do ye _saa_ him? but _isn't_ he a strappin' fellow, to be sure--a raal shark ten foot long, with claws like an alligator!" the hunter walked but a few rods, when he seated himself upon a fallen tree, with his back toward the irishman. this was the coveted opportunity. "yees have got the fellow now, teddy, barring yees haven't got him at all, but that ain't saying ye won't get him. be aisy now, and don't get excited! jist be as wise as a rat and as still as a mouse, and ye'll catch the catamount, if he don't catch you, that is." these self-admonitions were much needed, for the fellow was all tremulous with excitement and scarcely able to restrain himself. waiting a few moments until he could tone down his nerves, he commenced making his way toward his victim. he exercised extreme caution until within a rod, when a twig snapped under his foot. he made ready to spring, for he was certain of being discovered; but, to his surprise, the hunter made no motion at all. he evidently was so absorbed in some matter as to be unconscious of what was passing around. slowly and stealthily teddy glided toward the man, until he arose almost to the standing position, not more than a foot distant. then slowly spreading out his arms, so as to inclose the form of the stalwart woodsman, he brought them together like a vise, giving utterance at the same time to an exultant "whoop." "yer days of thramping _this_ country, and alarming paceable inhabitants are done wid, mister anaconda. so jist kaal over gracefully, say tin ave marias, and consider yourself in the hands of gabriel sint for judgment." all this time teddy had been straining and hugging at the hunter as if determined to crush him, while he, in turn, had taken it very coolly, and now spoke in his gruff bass voice: "let go!" "let go! well now, that's impudint, ye varlet. as if teddy mcfadden would let go hook and line, bob and sinker, whin he had got hold of a sturgeon. be aisy now; i'll squaze the gizzard and liver iv ye togither, if ye doesn't yield gracefully." "let go, i say! do you hear?". "yis, i hears, and that is the extint--" teddy's next sensation was as if a thunderbolt had burst beneath his feet, for he was hurled headlong full half a rod over the head of the hunter. though considerably bruised, he was not stunned by the fall, and quickly recovered. scratching his head, he cried: "begorrah, but yees can't repate _that_ trick!" making a rush toward his antagonist, who stood calmly awaiting his onset. "by heavens, i'll give you something different then!" said the man, as he caught him bodily in his arms, and running to the edge of the river, flung him sprawling into it. the water was deep, and it required considerable struggling to reach the shore. this last prodigious exhibition of strength inspired the irishman with a sort of respect for the stranger. teddy had found very few men, even among frontiersmen and indians, who could compete with him in a hand-to-hand struggle; yet, there was now no question but what he was overmatched, and he could but admire, in a degree, the man who so easily handled his assailant. it was useless to attack the enemy after such a repulse; so he quietly seated himself upon the shore. "would ye have the kindness, ye assassinating disciple of the crowner's jury, whin yees have jist shown how nately ye can dishpose of a man like meself, to tell me why it was you run so mighty harrd whin i took once before after yees? why didn't ye pause, and sarve me then jist as ye have done? i'd jist like to know that before we go any further wid _this_ matter." "it wasn't because i feared you!" said the hunter, turning sullenly away, and walking into the wood. "farewell!" called out teddy, waving his hand toward him. "ye're a beauty, and yees have quite taking ways wid ye; but it wouldn't be safe for me to find yees lurking about the cabin, if i had a rifle in me hand. you'd have trouble to fling a bullet off as ye flung me. be jabers, but _wasn't_ that a nate thing, to be sure. i'll bet a thousand pounds which i niver had, that that fellow could draw the mississippi up-stream if he was fairly hitched on to it. ah, teddy, you ain't much, afther all," he added, looking dolefully at his wet garments. teddy had been so completely outwitted that he was unwilling any one should know it. so he resolved to continue fishing until his clothes were thoroughly dry, and until he had secured enough fish to repay him for his journey. it was near the middle of the afternoon, and, as he had remained at home until the return of the young missionary from the village, there was nothing to disturb his labor, or sport as it might be called, except darkness itself. during this same afternoon, harvey richter and his wife were sitting on a bench in front of their cabin. the day was warm, but, as the bench always was shaded, it was the ordinary resort of the young couple when the weather was sultry. the missionary had been reading, but the volume was laid aside, and he was smilingly watching his wife as she sported with the boy in her lap. the little fellow was in exuberant spirits, and the parents, as a matter of course, were delighted. finally he betrayed signs of weariness, and in a few moments was asleep in his mother's arms. "i think it was a wise thing, for several reasons--that of changing your hour from the afternoon to the forenoon," said the wife. "why do you think so?" "we all feel more wearied and less inclination at this time of day for work than we do during the earlier hours. we could then be little together, but now nothing interferes with our afternoon's enjoyment of one another's society." "that is true; but you see the indians are more likely to be off fishing or hunting during the earlier part of the day. they have willingly conformed, however, to the change." "i think it is more in accordance with your own disposition," smiled the wife, "is it not?" "yes; i am free to admit that my lazy body inclines to quiet and rest after partaking of a hearty dinner, as i have done to-day." "if we think of rest at this early stage in our lives, how will it be when we become thirty or forty years older?" "i refer only to the temporary rest of the body and mind, such as they must have after periods of labor and excitement. such rest the youngest as well as the oldest requires. be careful, cora, you don't drop the little fellow!" "never fear," laughed the mother, as the youngster woke and commenced several juvenile antics more interesting to the parents than to any one else: "how lively!" remarked the proud father. "it seems to me i never saw a child at his age as bright and animated." and what father does not hold precisely the same opinion of his young hopeful? "look!" exclaimed the mother, "some one must be coming to see you." an indian woman was discernible among the trees, walking along the path at a rapid walk, as if she were greatly hurried. her head was bent, but now and then she raised it and glanced toward the cabin, showing that that was her destination. passing from the shadow of the wood into the clearing, the missionary recognized one of the worst women of the tribe. she had scoffed at his preaching, had openly insulted him, and during the first month or two had manifested a disposition approaching violence. to this richter only answered by kindness; he used every means to conciliate her good-will, but thus far with indifferent success. her husband, the-au-o-too, a warrior favorably inclined toward the white man, was thoughtful and attentive; and the good minister wondered that the savage did not restrain these unwomanly demonstrations upon his squaw's part. she approached with rapid step, until she stood directly in front of them. harvey saw that her countenance was agitated. "well, at-to-uck," said he, kindly, "you seem troubled. is there anything i can do for you?" [illustration: "well, at-to-uck," said he, kindly, "you seem troubled."] "me ain't trouble," she answered, using english as well as her very imperfect knowledge would admit. "me ain't trouble--_me_ ain't." "who may it be then?" "the-au-o-too--he _much_ trouble. sick--in woods--die--_berry_ sick." "what do you mean, at-to-uck?" asked the missionary, his interest strongly awakened. "has anything befallen your husband?" "he fall," she answered, eagerly, catching at the helping word, "he fall--much hurt--die--die--won't got well." "where is he?" she spun around on one foot, and pointed deeper into the woods. "he dere--lay on back--soon die." "and he wishes me to see him; is that it?" she nodded her head vigorously, but made no answer for a moment. then she suddenly broke forth: "send at-to-uck to git good man--hurry--berry hurry--he die--won't live. the-au-o-too say hurry--die soon--won't see good man--riher." harvey looked at his wife. "what must i do, cora? it will not do to leave you, as teddy may not return for several hours, and yet this poor indian should be attended in his dying moments." "you should go, harvey; i will not fear." he turned to the squaw in perplexity. "how far away is the-au-o-too?" "not much far--soon find--most dead." "it may be," he said in a low tone, "that he can be got to the house, although it would be no easy matter for us two to bring him." "i think your duty calls you to the dying man." "i ought to be there, but i tell you, cora, i don't like this leaving you alone," said he, impressively. "you know we made up our minds that it should never occur again." "there must be occasions when it cannot be avoided, and this is one of them. by refusing to attend this man, you may not only neglect a great duty, but incur the ill-will of the whole tribe. you know the disposition of this woman." the latter, at this point, began to give evidence of agitation, and to remark in her broken accents that the-au-o-too was dying and would be dead before they could reach him. the missionary, in sore perplexity, looked at his wife. "go," she said, or rather signified without speaking. "i will," he said, rising with an air of decision. "god grant i may never regret this." "i trust you never will." he kissed the infant, embraced his wife and then signified to the squaw to lead the way. "keep up a good heart," he added, turning, as he moved away. the wife smilingly nodded her head but said nothing. it did not escape the notice of her husband that there were tears in her eyes, and he half resolved to remain with her after all, but the next moment he moved on. the squaw took the well-beaten track, walking very rapidly and often looking back to see that she was followed. her strangeness of manner the missionary attributed to her excitement regarding her husband. several times she exhibited hesitation, and once or twice muttered something that was unintelligible to him. when they were about half-way to the village, she paused. "well, at-to-uck, what is the matter now?" "mebbe dead." "oh, i hope not," he answered, cheerfully. "do you turn off here?" she answered in the affirmative and asked him to lead the way. "no; i am unacquainted, and you ought certainly to know where to find your dying husband better than i do." she took the duty of guide upon herself again, and advanced but a rod, when she abruptly paused. "hark! hear groan? me hear him." harvey listened intently but heard nothing. knowing that the hearing of the indians is marvelously acute, he believed the squaw had heard sounds of distress; but, instead of quickening her steps, she now moved more slowly than ever. "have you lost your way, at-to-uck?" "no," she answered, in a significant voice. the suspicions of the missionary that had been slumbering were now fully roused. "what do you mean then?" the squaw turned full around and gave a leer which, if possible, made her face more hideous than ever. without thinking harvey caught her by the arm and shook her sharply. "explain this, at-to-uck. what is the meaning of this?" "he-he-e-e-e! _big_ fool. the-au-o-too hunt--_no hurt_!" a sharp reproof arose to the missionary's lips, but deeming it would be lost upon such a person, he merely turned his back upon her and walked away. she called and taunted him, but he was the last man who could have been roused to anger by such means, and he walked, with his arms folded, slowly and deliberately away toward the path. it had not occurred, as yet, to the mind of richter that anything more than a simple annoyance to himself was contemplated by this proceeding; but, as he resumed his steps homeward, a suspicion flashed upon him which almost checked the beating of his heart. "god save it being so!" was his mental prayer, as he hurried forward. a moment later he was on a full run. the afternoon was well advanced, but he soon caught a glimpse of his cabin through the trees. before this, however, he had detected the outcries of his infant, which struck him as a favorable omen, and he abated his speed somewhat. but, as he came into the clearing, his heart gave a great bound, as he saw his child lying upon the ground some distance from the house. his anxiety was so distressing that he dashed by it into the cabin. "cora, cora, what is the matter? where have you concealed yourself? why this untimely pleasantry?" he came out again, caught up the infant and attempted to soothe it, all the time looking wildly about in the hope of seeing the returning mother. "cora! cora!" he again called in agonized tones, but the woods gave back only the hollow echo. for a few moments he was fairly beside himself; but, at the end of that time, he began to reason more calmly. he attempted to persuade himself that she might return, but it was useless; and with a sort of resigned despair, he looked about him for signs of the manner in which she was taken away. the most convincing evidence was not wanting. the ground was trampled and torn, as if there had been a violent struggle; and, inexperienced as were his eyes, he detected the unmistakable impress of a moccasin upon the soft earth, and in the grass. the settle, too, was overturned and the baby lay in the grass as if tossed there by the act of some other arm, than a mother's. chapter vi. the lost trail. "'twas night--the skies were cloudless blue, and all around was hushed and still, save paddle of the light canoe, and wailing of the whippowill." on that sunny afternoon, the fish in a particular locality of a tributary of the mississippi did not take the bait very well. the spot to which we refer was that immediately surrounding teddy, whose patience was well-nigh exhausted. there he sat for several tedious hours, but had secured only two nibbles at his line, neither of which proved to be anything more. "begorrah, but it must be they'se frightened by meself, when that ould scalliwag give me a fling into the stream. jabers! _wasn't_ it done nately. hallo! there's a bite, not bigger, to be sure, than a lady's fut, but a bull-pout it is i know." he instantly arose to his feet, as if he were about to spring in the water, and stood leaning over and scanning the point where his line disappeared in the stream, with an intense interest which the professional angler alone can appreciate. but this, like all others, proved a disappointment, and he soon settled down into his waiting but necessary attitude of rest. "a half-hour more of sunshine, and then these same pants will be the same as if they've niver saan water, barring it's mighty seldom they have or they wouldn't be in this dirty condition. arrah! what can be the m'aning of that?" faintly but distinctly through the long stretch of woods came the sound of his name. it was repeated again and again until the irishman was convinced beyond all possibility of mistake. "what is up now?" he asked of himself as he drew in his line. "that is mister harvey's voice sure, and he is calling as though he was in a mighty hurry. faith, and i must not linger! if anything _should_ happen whin i was away i'd feel wus'n old boney at watherloo whin he lost the day an' his crown." the line was soon stowed away, and teddy made his way at a half-walk and ran in a homeward direction. he had gone about a hundred rods when he paused and listened. clearer and more distinctly came his name in tones whose earnest entreaty could not be mistaken. teddy rose on his heels and made reply to the hail, to assure his master, if possible, that he was approaching with all speed. the irishman's words were yet lingering in his mouth, when another and more terrible sound reached his ears. it was that of a suppressed, half-smothered woman's scream--a sort of gasp of terror. it was so short and so far away that it was impossible to tell its direction. he stopped, his heart beating like a hammer, but he heard no more. "god protect me, but there's something gone wrong at the cabin!" he exclaimed, dashing forward through the wood at a reckless rate. a few moments later it came in view, and he then saw his master walking to and fro, in front of the house, with the child in his arms. his manner and deathly pale face confirmed the forebodings of teddy's heart. "what's the matter, mister harvey? what's the matter?" "_that indian has carried cora away_!" was the agonized reply. "where has the owld divil carried her?" very naturally asked the hibernian. "i do not know! i do not know! but she has gone, and i fear we shall never see her again alive." "may me owld head be scraped wid a scalping-knife, an' me hands be made into furnace-grates for being away," ejaculated the servant, as the tears streamed down his cheeks. "no, teddy, you are not in the least to blame, nor is it my fault," impetuously interrupted the missionary. "till me how it was, mister harvey." the husband again became composed and related what is already familiar to the reader. at its close, teddy dashed into the house and brought out his rifle. "i'll murther that at-to-uck, be me sowl, and then i'll murther that haythen assassinator, an' iverybody that gits in me way. be the powers of the saints and divils, but i'll murther somebody. may the divil roast me if i--" "hold!" said the missionary, who by this time was himself again. "the first thing to be attended to is pursuit. we must not lose a second. we can never follow them ourselves through the wood. hold the child, while i go to the village and get some of the indians to help us." teddy took the child that had cried itself asleep, and the missionary started on a full run up the river. when he reached the settlement, it required but a moment to make his errand known. a dozen warriors volunteered at once, for these dozen would have laid down their lives for their faithful instructor. many of the squaws also gave utterance to dismal howls upon learning what had befallen their pale-faced sister. had the missionary chosen to tell the part taken by at-to-uck in the affair, it may be reasonably doubted whether her life would have been spared. but he was not the man to do such a thing. knowing how anxious teddy would be to participate in the pursuit, he secured the wife of one of the christian indians to return with him, and take charge of the boy during their absence. at the time of the missionary's visit, the chief and his principal warriors were absent on an expedition to the north. although holding little interest himself in the mission of the minister among his people, he would undoubtedly have led a party to the search for the audacious savage who had abducted the respected white woman; and, had he been overtaken, a swift and merciless retribution would have fallen upon the trangressor's head. harvey richter deemed it best to take but a few indians with him. accordingly he selected five that he knew to be skillful, and with them hurried at once in the direction of his cabin. he saw with a sinking heart, as he returned, that the sun was already low in the horizon, and the woods were becoming dark and gloomy. teddy was at his post chafing like a confined lion. "this woman, teddy, will take care of the boy, so that you may join us in the search." "bliss you for that! it would be the hardest work of me life to stay here when i thought there's a chance of gitting a whack at that thaiving villian. oh, _if_ i could only git howld of him, i wouldn't l'ave a piece of him big enough to spit on." "i think there's little probability of either of us obtaining a glimpse of him. we must rely upon these indians to take the trail and follow it to the end." "they're like the hounds in the owld country, barring they go on two legs an' don't stick their noses in the ground, nor howl whin they git on trail. they're mighty handy to have around ye at such a time as this, if they be savages wid only a spark of christianity in 'em not bigger than a tobaccy pipe." "it will be impossible, i think, for the savage to conceal traces of his flight, and, if there be any chance of coming up with him, these men will surely do so." "but suppose miss cora should be tomahawked and--" "don't mention it," said the missionary, with a shudder. while these words were interchanged, the indians had employed the time more profitably in solving the meaning of the footsteps upon the ground. a slight whoop announced the trail's discovery, and when the missionary turned, he saw the whole five gliding off in a line through the woods. they went in "indian file," and resembled a huge serpent making its way with all swiftness toward its prey. our two friends started at once after them. on reaching the edge of the clearing teddy asked, abruptly: "if the haythen comes back to the cabin while we's be gone?" "impossible! he cannot." "spowsen he hides his track in that manner, he may take a notion to gobble up the little boy." "he would not dare--" nevertheless, the remark of his servant alarmed the missionary, and he hesitated. there might be foundation for what had been said. the savage finding the pursuit too close to escape with his prey, might slay her and then return stealthily to the cabin and dispatch the boy. it would not do to leave him alone with the indian woman. "i can afford little assistance in the hunt, and will remain behind. hurry on, teddy, or they will be too far away for you to follow." the hibernian shot off through the trees, at a rate that soon exhausted him, while harvey richter returned within his cabin, there to keep company with his great woe, until the return of the pursuers brought tidings of the lost one. an indian on the trail is not likely to permit any trivial cause to turn him aside, and the five sioux made rapid progress so long as the light in the wood allowed them to do so. this, however, was a comparatively short time; and, after progressing fitfully and uncertainly for several hundred yards, they finally drew up to wait until the morrow. the trail, instead of taking the direction of the river, as the pursuers believed it would, ran precisely parallel to it. so long as the savage kept away from the stream--that is, so long as he did not take to a canoe--his trail could be followed with absolute certainty, and he be overtaken beyond doubt. impeded by an unwilling captive, he could not avoid a rapid gain upon him by his pursuers; and to escape certain capture, he must either abandon his prey or conceal his flight by resorting to the river. it might be, and the pursuers themselves half believed, that the fleeing indian did not fear a pursuit by any of his own race, in which case he could make a leisurely escape, as the unpracticed white men could not have followed him for a half-mile through the wilderness. if this were really the case, the sioux were confident of coming up with him before the morrow's sun should go down. the indians had paused but a few moments, when a great tearing and scrambling was heard, and teddy came panting upon them. "what be yees waiting for?" he demanded. "tired out?" "can't go furder--dark--wait till next day." "i'm sorry that yees didn't stand it bitter. i can go some ways further meself if yees'll be kind enough to show me the trail. but, yees don't pant or blow a bit, so i can't think ye're too much tired." "too dark--can't see--wait till sun." "oh, begorrah! i didn't understand ye. the injin 'l' git a good start on us, won't he though?" "ain't injin--_white man_!" "a white man, does ye say, that run off wid miss cora?" two of the indians replied in the affirmative. teddy manifested the most unbounded amazement, and for a while, could say nothing. then he leaped into the air, struck the sides of his shoes with his fingers, and broke forth: "it was that owld hunter, may purgatory take him! him and that owld mahogany, what made me drunk--blast his sowl--have been hid around in the woods, waiting for a chance to do harm, and one is so much worse than t'other yees can't tell both from which. och! if i but had him under the sight of me gun." the spot upon which the indians and teddy were standing was but a short distance from the village, and yet, instead of returning to it, they started a small fire and lay down for the night. _they were upon the trail_, and nothing was to turn them aside from it until their work was completed, or it was utterly lost to them. teddy was more loth than they to turn his face backward, but, under the circumstances, he could not forget the sad, waiting husband at home. so he returned to the cabin, to make him acquainted with the result of their labors thus far. "if the indian only avoids the river, he may be overtaken, but if he takes to that, i am fearful he can never be found." "be me sowl, mr. harvey, but thim savages says he's not an injin, but a _white man_, and yees know they cannot be mistook fur they've got eyes like hawks, and sinses sharper than me only needle, which, begorrah, hasn't got a point." "can it be that bra--that that hunter has done me this great wrong?" said the missionary, correcting himself so dextrously that his servant failed to observe it. "has such been the revenge that he has been harboring up for so many years? and he has followed us these hundreds of miles for the purpose of striking the blow!" "the owld haythen assassinator! the bloodthirsty beast, the sneakin' dog, the dirthy jail-bird, the--" "he has not shot either of us when we were at his mercy, for the purpose of lulling us into security, the better to obtain his revenge, and oh, he has succeeded how well!" the strong man, who still sat in the front of his cabin, where he might catch the first sound of returning footsteps, now covered his face, and his whole form heaved with emotion. teddy began to feel uncomfortable. he arose, walked to and fro, and wiped the tears from his own cheeks. despite his tears, however, he recognized in the exclamations of his master a reference to some mystery which he had long suspected, but which had never been cleared up. the missionary must have met this strange hunter before this encounter in the wilderness, and his identity, and the cause of his deadly enmity, must, also, be known. teddy had a great curiosity; but, as his master had repulsed his inquiries upon a previous occasion, he forbore to make any reference to it. he walked backward and forward until the good man's emotion had subsided somewhat, and then he said: "good master harvey, the owld cabin is so lonely wid the form of miss cora gone, that it's meself that couldn't very well stay here till morning. so, wid yer leave jist, i'll return to the injins, so as to be ready to folly the trail bright and early in the mornin'." "and how do you suppose i feel, teddy?" "god save us! it can be no worse than meself." "i am willing that you should go." the missionary had need, indeed, for the sustaining power which can come only from above. the faithful indian woman remained with his child through the night, while he, with bare head, and hands griped together, paced backward and forward until the morrow's sun had risen. how he prayed and agonized in spirit during those long, lonely hours, god and himself only know. when the day had fairly dawned, he entered the house, lay down wearily, and slept a "long and troubled sleep." with a heavy heart teddy made his way back through the woods to where the indians were congregated. they were seated around the camp-fire engaged in smoking, but did not exchange nor utter a syllable. they all understood each other, and therefore there was no need of talk. the irishman seated himself beside them, and joined an hour or two in smoking, when they all lay down and slumbered. all with the exception of teddy, who could not sleep. he rolled hither and thither, drew deep sighs, and took new positions, but it availed nothing. the events of the past day had driven sleep far from his eyelids, and he soon gave over the effort altogether. rising to a sitting position, he scratched his head (which was significant only of abstraction of thought), and gazed meditatively into the smoldering embers. while seated thus, an idea suddenly came to him which brought him instantly to his feet. the fact that it had not occurred to the indians he attributed to their inferior shrewdness and sagacity. he recalled that the abduction of the young wife took place quite late in the afternoon; and, as she must be an unwilling captive of course, she would know enough to hinder the progress of the man so as to afford her friends a chance to overtake them. such being the case, the hunter would find himself compelled to encamp for the night, and therefore he could be but a short distance away. the more the irishman reflected, the more he became convinced that his view was right; and, we may state, that for once, at least, his supposition had a foundation to stand upon. the matter, as has been evident from the first to the reader, rested entirely upon the impossibility of following the trail at night. thus far it had maintained its direction parallel with the river, and he deduced that it must continue to do so. such being the case, the man could be reached as well during the darkness as daylight. teddy concluded not to awaken the savages, as they would hardly coincide with him. so he cautiously rose to his feet, and walking around them, made off in the darkness. he was prudent enough to obtain an idea of the general direction before starting, so as to prevent himself going astray; after which he pressed the pursuit with all possible speed. at intervals he paused and listened, but it seemed as if everything excepting himself was asleep. he heard no sound of animal or man: he kept his eyes flitting hither and thither, for he had hopes of chancing upon the camp-fire of the abductor. it is always a difficult matter to keep one's "reckoning" in the woods. if they be of any extent, it requires extraordinary precautions upon the part of an inexperienced person to prevent himself from being lost. should he endeavor to travel by night, it would be almost a miracle indeed if he could save himself from going totally astray. teddy had every disadvantage to contend against, and he had not journeyed a half-hour, when his idea of his own position was just the opposite of truth. as he had not yet become aware of it, however, it perhaps was just as well as if he had committed no error. he was pressing forward, with that peculiar impelling feeling that it was only necessary to do so ultimately to reach his destination, when a star-like glimmer caught his eye. teddy stopped short, and his heart gave a great bound, for he believed the all-important opportunity had now come. he scanned the light narrowly, but it was only a flickering point, such as a lantern would give at a great distance at night. the light alone was visible, but no flame. it was impossible to form any correct idea of its location, although, from the fact that the nature of the wood must prevent the rays penetrating very far, he was pretty certain it was comparatively close at hand. with this belief he commenced making his way toward it, his movements certifying his consciousness that a mis-step would prove fatal. to his dismay, however, he had advanced but a dozen steps or so when the light disappeared, and he found it impossible to recover it. he moved from side to side, forward and backward, but it availed nothing, and he was about to conclude it had been extinguished, when he retreated to his starting-point and detected it at once. keeping his eye fixed upon it, he now walked slowly, but at the same point as before it disappeared. this, he saw, must arise from some limb, or branch or tree interfering, and it only remained for him to continue advancing in the same line. having proceeded a hundred rods or so, he began to wonder that he still failed to discover it. thinking he might be mistaken in the distance, he went forward until he was sure he had passed far beyond it, when he turned and looked behind him. nothing but the dim figures of the tree-trunks rewarded his gaze. fully a half-hour was spent in wandering to and fro in the further efforts to locate the light that had caught his eye, and he finally sought to obtain his first stand-point. whether he succeeded or not teddy never could tell, but he never saw nor learned anything more regarding the camp-fire to which he was confident that he had been in such close proximity. about this time, which was in the neighborhood of midnight, teddy made the discovery that he was lost, and, like a sensible person, gave up all efforts to right himself. he was so wearied that he did not awake until daylight, when he was aroused by the five indians, whose trail-hunt led them to the spot where he lay sleeping. the trail was now followed rapidly for a half-mile when, as the pursuers had feared all along, it made a sudden bend to the river, upon the banks of which it was totally lost. not to be baffled in this manner, a canoe was produced with which three crossed the river. the entire day was spent by these upon one bank, while the two other indians and teddy pursued the search for traces of the hunter's landing upon their own side of the stream. not the slightest evidence was discovered that he had touched shore after embarking. the man had escaped, and even the eagle-eyed sioux were compelled on the second night to return to their village with the sad announcement that the trail was lost! [illustration: the trail was lost.] chapter vii. a hibernian's search for the trail. "oh i let me only breathe the air, the blessed air that's breathed by thee; and, whether on its wings it bear healing or death, 'tis sweet to me." at the close of a windy, blustering day in , two men were seated by a camp-fire in the depths of the wilderness of the northwest. the wind howled through the branches with a moaning sound such as often heralds the approach of bitter cold weather; and a few feathery flakes of snow that sailed along on the wind, proved that the season of storms was close at hand. the fire was built down deep in a sort of gorge, where its cheery, crackling blaze could not be seen by any one until he was nearly upon it. the men sat with their pipes in their mouths, their rifles beside them and their feet toward the fire. from appearances they were on the best of terms. one of them needs no introduction, as he is our old friend teddy, who evidently feels at home in his new situation. the other is a man of much the same build although somewhat older. his face, where it is not concealed by a heavy, grizzly beard, is covered by numerous scars, and the border of one eye is disfigured from the same cause. his dress and accouterments betray the hunter and trapper. "and so, teddy, ye're sayin' it war a white man that took away the missionary's wife, and hain't been heard on since. let me see, you said it war nigh onto three months ago, warn't it?" [illustration: "and so, teddy, ye're sayin' it war a white man that took away the missionary's wife."] "three months, come day after to-morrow. begorrah, but it's not i that'll forgit that same date to my dying day, if, indade, i forgit it at all, at all, even whin somebody else will be wearin' me clothes." "it was a dirty trick, freeze me if it wasn't; but you can _allers_ find a white man to do a mean trick, when you can't a copperskin; _that_ you may set down as a p'inted fact, teddy." "i belaves ye, mister tim. an indian is a poor mean thing at the bist, an' their squaws--kah! they are the dirtiest beasts that iver jabbered human lingo; an' their babies, i raaly belaves, is caught with a hook an' line in the muddy creeks where the catfish breed; but, fur all that, i don't think they could have been equal to this piece of wickedness. may the divil git howld of his soul. blazes, but won't there be a big squeal in purgatory when the divil gits howld of him!" and teddy seemed to contemplate the imaginary scene in hades with a sense of intense satisfaction. "but it's powerful strange you could never git on the trail. i don't boast of my own powers, but i'll lay if i'd been in the neighborhood, i'd 've found it and stuck to it like a bloodhound, till i'd 've throttled that thievin' wretch." "the sioux spent the bitter part of the day in the s'arch, an' meself an' siveral other savages has been looking iver since, and none of us have got so much as a scint of his shoe, bad luck to him." "but, teddy, what made him do it?" asked the trapper, turning his keen, searching eyes full upon him. "there's where i can't answer yees." "there be some men, i allow, so infarnal mean they'll do a mean thing just 'cause they _like_ to do it, and it might be he's one of them." "it's meself that belaves he howlds some spite agin mister harvey for something done in years agone, and has taken this means of revinging himself upon the good man, as i am sure niver did one of his fellow-creatures any harm." "it may be there's been ill-blood a long time atween 'em, but the missionary couldn't a done nothin' to give the rapscallion cause to run off with his wife, 'less he'd run off with this hunter's old woman before, and the hunter was paying him for it." "git out wid yer nonsense!" said teddy, impatiently. "it couldn't been a great deal, or if it was, it couldn't been done purposely, for i've growed up wid mister harvey, and knowed him ever since he was knee high to a duck, and he was _always_ a boy that did more praying than fighting. the idea of _his_ harming anyone, is _pre-pos-te-trous._ after the haythen had fired at us, the good man actilly made me promise not to do the wretch hurt if the chance was given me; and a mighty foolish thing, for all it was master harvey who towld me, fur i've had a chance or two at the spalpaan since. oh blissed virgin, why _didn't_ i cut his wizzen for him whin i could have done it--that is, if i could!" "and you've been huntin' 'im these three or four months be you?" "the same, yer honor, huntin' constantly, niver losing a day rain or shine, wid indians an' widout 'em, cold, hungry and tired, but not a day of rist." "freeze me then, if you haven't got _grit_. thar ain't many that would track through the woods that ar long. and ye haven't caught a glimpse of the gal nor heard nothin' of her?" "not a thing yet; but it's meself that 'xpacts to ivery day." "in course, or ye wouldn' keep at the business. but s'pose, my friend, you go on this way for a year more--what then?" "as long as i can thravel over the airth and miss cora isn't found, me faat shall niver find rest." the trapper indulged in an incredulous smile. "you'd be doing the same, tim, if yees had iver laid eyes on miss cora or had iver heard her speak," said teddy, as his eyes filled with tears. "god bliss her! she was worth a thousand such lives as mine--" "don't say nothin'" interrupted the trapper, endeavoring to conceal his agitation; "i've l'arned years ago what that business is. the copperskins robbed me of a prize i'll never git agin, long afore you'd ever seen one of the infarnal beings." "was she a swateheart?" "never mind--never mind; it'll do no good to speak of it now. she's _gone_--that's enough." "how do you know she can't be got agin, whin--" "she was tomahawked afore my eyes--ain't that enough?" demanded the trapper, indignantly. "i axes pardon, but i was under the impression they had run away with her as they did with miss cora." "hang 'em, no! if they'd have done that i'd have chased 'em to the pacific ocean and back agin afore i'd give 'em up." "and that's what meself intends to do regarding miss cora." "yer see, yer don't know much about red-skins and their devilments, and therefore, it's my private opine, instead of getting the gal, they'll git you, and there'll be the end on't." "tim, couldn't yees make the s'arch wid me?" asked teddy, in a deeply earnest voice. the trapper shook his head. "like to do't, but can't. it's time i was up to the beaver runs this night and had my traps set. yer see i'm _compelled_ to be in st. louey at the end of six months and hain't got a day to spare." "mister harvey has money, or, if he hasn't, he has friends in st. louis, be the same token, that has abundance of it, and you'd find it paid you bitter in the ind than catching poor, innocent beavers, that niver did yees harm." "i don't foller sich business for money, but i've agreed to be in st. louey at the time i was tellin' you, and it's allers a p'int of honor with me to keep my agreements." "couldn't yees be doing that, and this same thing, too?" "can't do't. s'pose i should git on the trail that is lost, can yer tell me how fur i'd have to foller it? yer see i've been in that business afore, and know what it is. me and three others once chased a band of blackfeet, that had carried off an old man, till we could see the peaks of the rocky mountains, and git a taste of the breath of wind that comes down from their ice and snow in middle summer." "didn't yees pursue the subjact any further?" "we went fur enough to find that the nimble-footed dogs had got into the mountains, and that if we wanted to keep our ha'r, we'd only got to undertake to foller 'em thar. so we just tramped back agin, havin' our trouble for nothin'." "wasn't that about as poor a business, for yees, as this be for me, barring yees was hunting for an old man and i'm hunting for a young woman?" "it warn't as foolish by a long shot, 'cause we _war on the trail_ all the time, and kept it, while you've lost yours, and never'll be able to find it agin. we war so close more nor once that we reached their camp-fires afore the embers had died out and from the tops of two, three hills we got a glimpse on 'em on thar horses. we traveled all night a good many times, but it done no good as they done the same thing, and we found we war further away, if anything, next morning than we war at sundown. if we'd ever lost the trail so as not to find it we'd guv up and come home, but we never done that nor never lost more nor an hour in lookin' for it. you see," added the trapper, impressively, "you never have found the trail, and, therefore, there ain't the shadder of a chance." "begorrah, yees can't blame us whin we tried to the bist of our indeavor to find it and wasn't able." "yer done the best yer knowed, i s'pose; but why didn't four on 'em divide so as to let one go up one side the river and one t'other, and the same way down-stream. yer don't s'pose that feller was able to keep paddlin' forever in the river, do yer? and jist so soon as he landed, jist so sure would one of them sioux find the spot where he touched land, and foller him to his hole." "begorrah, if wees had only thought of that!" "a sioux is as cunning a red-skin as i ever found, and it's jist my opine every one of 'em _did_ think of that same thing, but they didn't try it for fear they might catch the varmint! they knew their man, rest assured o' that." teddy looked up as if he did not comprehend the meaning of the last remark. "'cordin' to yer own showin', one of them infarnal copper-gals was at the bottom of the hull business, and it's like as not the men knowed about it, too, and didn't _want_ to catch the gal!" "there's where yees are mightily mistook, as pat mcguire said whin his landlord called him honest, for ivery one of them same chocolate-colored gintlemen would have done their bist for master harvey. they would have cut that thaif's wizzen wid a mighty good will, i knows." "mebbe so, but i don't believe it!" said the hunter, with an incredulous shake of his head. "would ye have me give up the s'arch altogether?" "can't say that i would; howsumever, the chance is small, and ye'd better go west with me, and spend the winter in l'arning how to trap fur beaver and otter." "what good might result from that?" "none, as i knows on." "then it's meself that thanks yees for the offer and respectfully declines to accept the nomination. i'll jist elict meself to the office of sheriff an' go about these regions wid a s'arch-warrint in my shoes that'll niver let me rist until miss cora is found." "wal, i 'spose we'll part in the mornin' then. as yer say this are the first time you've got as fur north, i'll say i think you're nearer the trail than yer ever war yit." "what might be the reason for that?" eagerly asked teddy. "i can't say what it is, only i kind o' feel it in my bones. thar's a tribe of copperskins about a hundred miles to the north'ard, that i'll lay can tell yer _somethin'_ about the gal." "indians? an' be what token would they be acquaint with her?" "they're up near the hudson bay territory line, and be a harmless kind of people. i stayed among 'em two winters and found 'em a harmless lot o' simpletons that wouldn't hurt a hair o' yer head. thar's allers a lot of white people staying among 'em." "i fails yit to see what they could be doing with miss cora." "mind i tells yer only what i _thinks_--not what i _knows_. it's my private opine, then, that that hunter has took the gal up among them injins, and they're both living thar. if that be so, you needn't be afeard to go right among 'em, for the only thing yer'll have to look out fur will be the same old hunter himself." this remark made a deep impression upon teddy. he sat smoking his pipe, and gazing into the glowing embers, as if he could there trace out the devious, and thus far invisible, trail that had baffled him so long. it must be confessed that the search of the hibernian thus far had been carried on in a manner that could hardly be expected to insure success. he had spent weeks in wandering through the woods, sleeping upon the ground or in the branches of some tree, fishing for awhile in some stream, or hunting for game--impelled onward all the time by his unconquerable resolve to find cora richter and return her to her husband. on the night that the five sioux returned to the village, and announced their abandonment of the pursuit, teddy told the missionary that he should never see him again, until he had gained some tidings of his beloved mistress, or had become assured that there could be no hope of her recovery. how long this peculiar means of hunting would have gone on, it is impossible to tell, but most probably until teddy himself had perished, for there was not the shadow of a chance of his gaining any information of the lost one. his meeting with the trapper was purely accidental, and the hint thrown out by the latter was the reason of setting the fellow to work in the proper way. the conversation was carried on for an hour or so longer, during which the trapper gave teddy more advice, and told him the best manner of reaching the tribe to which he referred. he cautioned him especially against delaying his visit any longer, as the northern winter was almost upon them, and should he be locked in the wilderness by it, it would be almost impossible for him to survive its rigor; but if he should be among the tribe, he could rest in security and comfort until the opening of spring. teddy concluded to do as his companion advised, and, after more unimportant conversation, both stretched themselves out by the camp-fire and slept. just as the earliest light was breaking through the trees, the trapper was on his feet, rekindling the fire. finding, after this was completed, that teddy still slumbered, he brought him to his senses by several forcible applications of his foot. "begorrah, it's meself that's thinking yees 'av a mighty gintle way of coming upon one unawares, barring it's the same as a kick from a wild horse. i was dr'aming jist thin of a blast of powder in a stone quarry, which exploded under me feet, an' sint me up in the ship's rigging, an' there i hung by the eaves until a lovely girl pulled me in at the front door and shut it so hard that the chinking all fell out of the logs, and woke me out of me pleasint delusions." the trapper stared at the irishman incredulously, thinking him demented. teddy's gaping and rubbing of his eyes with his fists, and, finally, his stretching of arms and legs, reassured tim of the fellow's sanity, and he added: "if yer hadn't woke just now, i'd tried ef lammin' yer over the head would've done any good." "yees might have done that, as long as ye plaised, fur me sconce got used to being cracked at the fairs in the owld country." "i thought yer allers lived in this country." "not always, or how could i be an irishman? god plaise i may niver live here long enough to forgit owld ireland, the gim of the sea. what's the matter with yees now?" the trapper having wandered a few yards from the camp-fire, had paused suddenly and stood gazing at the ground. teddy was obliged to repeat his question. "what is it yees have diskivered?" "sign, or ye may shoot me." "sign o' what?" "injins, ye wood-head! what else could i mean?" teddy now approached and narrowly examined the ground. his knowledge of wood-craft had been considerably increased during the past month or two, and he had no difficulty in distinguishing the imprint of a moccasin. "look at the infarnal thing!" exclaimed the trapper, in disgust. "who'd a thort there'd 've been any of the warmints about, whin we took sich pains with our fire. why the chap didn't send a piece of cold lead into each of our bread-baskets is more nor i can tell. it would've sarved us both right." "p'raps thim tracks there was made fornenst the night, and that it's ourselves that was not here first." "don't yer s'pose i know all about _that_?" demanded the trapper, savagely. "them tracks was made not more'n three or four hours ago." as he spoke. tim turned and followed it a rod or two, and then, as he came back, said: "if i had the time i'd foller it; but it goes just t'other way from what i want to go. i think like 'nough it leads to the village that you want to find; so if yer'd like one of 'em to introduce yer to the rest on 'em, drive ahead and make his acquaintance. maybe he kin tell yer something about the gal." teddy determined to follow the trail by all means. he partook of the morning meal with the trapper, exchanged a pleasant farewell, and then the two parted never to meet again. the footprints were distinct and easily followed. teddy advanced with long, loping strides, at a gait considerably more rapid than his usual one. he indulged in curious reveries as he followed it, fancying it to be an unfriendly indian with whom a desperate collision must inevitably take place, or some friendly member of the tribe, of whom the trapper had told him, that would prove a boon companion to him. all at once he reached a small, marshy tract, where the trail was much more palpable; and it was here that he either saw or fancied the toes of the footprints turned _outward_, thus demonstrating that, instead of an indian, he was following a white man. the hibernian's heart throbbed at the thought that he was upon the track of the strange hunter, with all probability of overtaking him. it caused his heart to throb violently to reflect how close he was upon the critical moment. drawing a deep breath and closing his lips tightly, he pressed on ready for the conflict. the trail continued as distinct as ever, and the pursuit suffered no interruption until it entered a deep swamp into which teddy hesitated to enter, its appearance was so dark and forbidding. as he gazed into its gloomy depths, he was almost certain that he had discovered the _home_ of the hunter. that at that moment the criminal was within its confines, where perhaps the beloved cora was imprisoned, a miserable and pining captive. the thought maddened him, and he pressed forward so rashly that he soon found himself completely entrapped in a network of briers and brambles. carefully withdrawing into the open wood, it suddenly occurred to him, that if the hunter had passed through the thicket, there was no earthly necessity of his doing it. he could pass around, and, if the footprints were seen upon the opposite side, it only remained to follow them, while, if they were not visible, it certified that he was still within the thicket and he could therefore shape his actions accordingly. teddy therefore made his way with patience and care around one end of the thicket. he found the distance more considerable than he at first supposed. it was full an hour before he was fairly upon the opposite side. here he made a careful search and was soon rewarded by finding unmistakable footprints, so that he considered it settled that the hunter had passed straight through the thicket. "it's a quaar being he is entirely, when it's meself that could barely git into the thicket, and he might have saved his hide by making a short thramp around, rather than plunging through in this shtyle." teddy pressed on for two hours more, when he began to believe that he was close upon the hunter, who must have traveled without intermission to have eluded him thus far. he therefore maintained a strict watch, and advanced with more caution. the woods began to thicken, and the hibernian was brought to a stand-still by the sound of a rustling in the bushes. proceeding some distance further, he came upon the edge of a bank or declivity, where he believed the strange hunter had laid down to rest. the footprints were visible upon the edge of the bank, and at the bottom of the latter was a mass of heavy undergrowth, so dense as effectually to preclude all observation of what might be concealed within it. it was in the shrubbery, directly beneath him, that teddy believed the hunter lay. he must be wearied and exhausted, and no doubt was in a deep sleep. teddy was sure, in his enthusiasm, that he had obtained a glimpse of the hunter's clothes through the interstices of the leaves, so that he could determine precisely the spot where he lay, and even the position of his body--so eagerly did the faithful fellow's wishes keep in advance of his senses. and now arose the all-important question as to what he should do. he might shoot him dead as he slept, and there is little question but what teddy would have done it had he not been restrained by the simple question of expediency. the hunter was alone, and, if slain, all clue to the whereabouts of mrs. richter would be irrecoverably lost. what tidings that might ever be received regarding her, must come from the lips of him who had abducted her. if he could desperately wound the man, he might frighten him into a confession, but then teddy feared instead of wounding him merely with his rifle, he would kill him altogether if he attempted to shoot. after a full half-hour's deliberation, teddy decided upon his course of action. it was to spring knife in hand directly upon the face of the hunter, pin him to the ground and then force the confession from his lips, under a threat of his life, the irishman mercifully resolving to slay him at any rate, after he had obtained all that was possible from him. teddy did not forget his experience of a few months before when the hunter gave him an involuntary bath in the river. he therefore held his knife firmly in his right hand. now that he had concluded what to do, he lost no time in carrying his plan into execution. he took a crouching position, such as is assumed by the panther when about to spring upon its prey, and then drawing his breath, he leaped downward. a yelping howl, an impetuous scratching and struggling of the furious mass that he attempted to inclose in his arms, told teddy that instead of the hunter, he had pounced down upon an innocent, sleeping bear! it was well for the irishman that the bear was peaceably inclined, else his search for the lost trail might have terminated then and there. the brute, after freeing itself from its incubus, sprung off and made all haste into the woods, leaving teddy gazing after it in stupefied amazement. he rose to his feet, stared at the spot where it had last appeared and then drew a deep sigh, and sadly shook his head. "i say nothing! be jabers! it's meself that can't do justice to the thame!" harvey richter stood in his cabin-door, about five months after his great loss, gazing off toward the path which led to the indian village, and which he had traveled so many, many times. sad and weary was his countenance, as he stood, at the close of the day, looking into the forest, as if he expected that it would speak and reveal what it knew of his beloved partner, who was somewhere concealed within its gloomy depths. ah, how many an hour had he looked, but in vain. the forest refused to give back the lost, nor did it breathe one word of her, to ease the gloom which hung so heavily upon his soul. a footfall caught his ear, and turning, he saw teddy standing before him. the face of the irishman was as dejected as his own, and the widowed man knew there was scarce need of the question: "have you heard anything, teddy?" "nothing, sir, saving that nothing is to be learnt." "not my will, but thine, oh god, be done!" exclaimed the missionary, reverently, and yet with a wailing sadness, that proved how unutterable was his woe. chapter viii. the trail of death. these likelihoods confirm her flight from hence; therefore, i pray you, stay not to discourse, but mount you presently.--shakespeare. the trapper, after separating from the irishman, pursued his way through the woods with a slow tread, as if he were deliberating some matter with himself. occasionally he muttered and shook his head, in a manner that showed his conscience was getting the better of the debate, whatever it might be. finally he paused. "yas, sir; it's a mean piece of business in me. 'cause i want to cotch a few beavers i must let this gal be, when she has been lost to her husband already for three months. it's ongenerous, and _can't be done_!" he exclaimed, emphatically. "what if i does lose a few peltries when they're bringing such a good price down in st. louey? can't i afford to do it, when there's a gal in the matter?" he resumed his walk as slowly and thoughtfully as before, muttering to himself. "if i go, i goes alone; least i don't go with that teddy, for he'd be sartin to lose my ha'r as sure as we got onto a trail. there's no calc'latin' the blunders of _such_ a man. how he has saved his own scalp to this time is more nor i can tell, or himself neither, for that matter, i guess. i've been on many a trail-hunt alone, and if i goes--if i goes, why, _in course_ i does!" he added, impetuously. the resolution once taken seemed to afford him unusual pleasure, as it does with us all when the voice of conscience is a monitor that is heeded. he was tramping toward the west, and now that the matter was decided in his own mind, he paused again, as if he could better debate other matters that must in the circumstances necessarily present themselves. "in the first place, there's no use of going any further on _this_ track, for i ain't gettin' any nigher the gal, that's pretty sartin. from what that teddy told me of his travels, it can't be that she's anywhere in these parts, for if she war, he couldn't have helped l'arning something of her in all this time. there's a tribe up north that i've heard was great on gettin' hold of white gals, and i think i'll make a s'arch in that direction afore i does anything else." nothing more remained for tim but to carry out the resolution he had made, and it was characteristic of the man that he did it at once. five minutes after the above words had been muttered, he was walking rapidly along in a northern direction, his rifle thrown over his arm, and a beaming expression of countenance that showed there were no regrets at the part he was acting. he had a habit of talking with himself, especially when some weighty or unusual matter obtruded itself. it is scarcely to be wondered, therefore, that he became quite talkative at the present time. "i allers admire such adventur's as this, if they don't bring in anything more nor thanks. the style in which i've received them is allers worth more money nor i ever made trapping beavers. the time i cotched that little gal down on the osage, that had been lost all summer, i thought her mother would eat me up afore she'd let me go. i believe i grinned all day and all night for a week after that, it made me think i was such a nice feller. maybe it'll be the same way with this. hello!" the trapper paused abruptly, for on the ground before him he saw the unmistakable imprint of a moccasin. a single glance of his experienced eye assured him upon that point. "that there are injins in these parts is a settled p'int with me, and that red and white blood don't agree is another p'int that is settled. that track wasn't made there more nor two hours ago, and it's pretty sartin the one that made it ain't fur away at this time. it happens it leads to the north'ard, and it'll be a little divarsion to foller it, minding at the same time that there's an injin in it." for the present the trapper was on a trail, and he kept it with the skill and certainty of a hound. over the dry leaves, the pebbly earth, the fresh grass, the swampy hollow--everywhere, he followed it with unerring skill. "that injin has been on a hunt," he muttered, "and is going back home agin. if it keeps in this direction much longer, i'll believe he's from the very village i'm hunting after. heigh! there's something else up!" he suddenly checked himself and began snuffing the air, as though it was tainted with something suspicious. "i hope i may be shot if there ain't a camp-fire within two hundred yards of where i am standing." he looked sharply around in every direction, but saw nothing of the camp, although positive that his olfactories could not have deceived him. "whether it belongs to white or red can't be said, _sartin_; but it's a great deal most likely that it's red, and it's just about as sartin that that injin ahead of me has gone pretty close to the camp, so i'll keep on follering him." a short distance further he became assured that he was in close proximity to the fire, and he began to use extreme caution in his movements. he knew very well how slight an inadvertence would betray his approach, and a betrayal was almost fatal. advancing some distance further, he suddenly came in full view of the camp-fire. he saw three indians seated around it, smoking, and appearing as if they had just finished their morning meal. it seemed, also, as if they were discussing some matter that deeply interested all. the mumbling of their voices could be heard, and one of them gesticulated quite freely, as though he were excited over the conference. there was not even the most remote possibility that what they were saying was of the least concern to the trapper; and so, after watching them a few moments, he moved cautiously by. it was rarely that tim ever had a mishap at such perilous times as these, but to his dismay something caught his foot so dextrously, that in spite of himself he was thrown flat upon his face. there was a dull thump, not very loud, it is true, but he feared it had reached the ears of the savages. he lay motionless, listening for a while, but hearing nothing of their voices or footsteps, he judged that either they had no suspicion of the true cause, or else had not heard him at all. he therefore rose to his feet and moved on, occasionally glancing back, to be sure he was not pursued. the trapper proceeded in this manner until noon. had the case been urgent, he would not have paused until nightfall, as his indurated muscles demanded no rest; he could go a couple of days without nourishment, and experience little inconvenience. but there was no call for haste. he therefore paused at noon, on the banks of a small stream, in quest of some water-fowl. tim gazed up and down-stream, but saw nothing that would serve as a dinner. he could have enticed a fish or two from their element, but he had set his heart upon partaking of a bird, and was not willing to accept anything else. accordingly, he began walking down the bank of the creek in search of one. in such a country as was minnesota forty years ago, the difficult matter would have been to _avoid_ game rather than to find it. the trapper had searched but a short distance, when he caught sight of a single ptarmigan under the opposite bank. in a twinkling tim's rifle was raised, and, as it flashed forth its deadly messenger, the bird made a single struggle, and then floated, a dead object, down the current. although rather anxious for his prize, the trapper, like many a hunter since that day, was not willing to receive a wet skin so long as it was possible to avoid it. the creek could be only of inconsiderable depth, yet, on such a blustering day, he felt a distaste toward exposing himself to its chilling clasp. some distance below he noticed the creek narrowed and made a curve. at this point he hoped to draw it in shore with a stick, and he lost no time in hurrying to the point. arrived there, the trapper stood on the very margin of the water, with a long stick in hand, waiting for the opportune moment. he naturally kept his eye upon the floating bird, as any animal watches the prey that he is confident is coming directly into his clutches. from the opposite bank projected a large, overhanging bush, and such was the bird's position in the water, that it was compelled to float within a foot, at least, of this. tim's eyes happened to be fixed intently upon it at this moment, and, at the very instant it was at the point named, he saw a person's hand flash out, seize the ptarmigan by the neck, and bring it in to shore in a twinkling. indignation upon the part of the trapper was perhaps as great as his surprise. he raised his rifle, and had it already sighted at the point where he was confident the body of the thief must be concealed, when a second thought caused him to lower his piece, and hurry up-stream, to a spot directly opposite where the bird had disappeared. here he searched the shore narrowly, but could detect no sign of the presence of any person. that there was, or had at least been, one there, needed no further confirmation. the trapper was in no mood to put up with the loss of his dinner, and he considered it rather a point of honor that he should bring the offending savage to justice. that it was an indian he did not doubt, but he never once suspected, what was true, that it was the identical one he had been following, and who had passed his camp-fire. in a few moments he found a shallow portion of the creek across which he immediately waded and made his way down the bank, to where the indian had first manifested his presence. here the keen eye of tim at once detected moccasin prints, and he saw that the savage had departed with his prize. there was no difficulty in following the trail, and the trapper did so, with his long, loping, rapid walk. it happened to lead straight to the northward, so that he felt it was no loss of time for him to do so. it was morally certain the savage could be at no great distance; hence the pursuer was cautious in his advance. the american indian would rather seek than avoid an encounter, and he was no foe to be despised in a hand-to-hand contest. the trapper was in that mood that he would not have hesitated to encounter two of them in deadly combat for the possession of the bird which was properly his own, and which he was not willing to yield until compelled to do so by physical force. about a hundred rods brought the trapper to a second creek of larger size than the first. the trail led directly into this, so he followed without hesitation. before doing so, he took the precaution to sling his rifle to his back, so that his arms should be disencumbered in any sudden emergency. the creek proved to be of considerable depth, but not sufficient to cause him to swim. near the center, when it was up to his armpits, and he was feeling every foot of the way as he advanced, he chanced by accident to raise his head. as he did so, he caught a movement among the undergrowth, and more from habit than anything else, dodged his head. the involuntary movement allowed the bullet that was discharged at that moment to pass harmlessly over his crown and bury itself in the bank beyond. the next instant the trapper dashed through the water, reaching the shore before the savage could reload. to his disappointment and chagrin, the indian was gone. tim, however, was not to be baffled in this manner, and dashed on as impetuously as before. he was so close that he could hear the fugitive as he fled, but the nature of the ground prevented rapid progress upon the part of either, and it was impossible to tell for a time who it was that was gaining. "there's got to be an end to this race _some time_," muttered tim, "or i'll chase you up the north pole. you've stole my dinner, and tried to steal my topknot, and now you shall have it or i shall have yours." for some time this race (which in many respects resembled that of teddy and the strange hunter) continued, until the trapper found it was himself that was really losing ground, and he sullenly came down to a walk again. still, he held to the trail with the unremitting perseverance of the bloodhound, confident that, sooner or later, he must come up with the fugitive. all at once, something upon the ground caught his eye. it was the ptarmigan, and he sprung exultingly forward and picked it up. it was unharmed by the indian, and he looked upon it as a tacit surrender, on the part of his adversary, of the matter of dispute between them. at first tim was disposed to keep up the pursuit; but, on second thought, he concluded to partake of his dinner, and then continue his search for his human game. in order to enjoy his dinner it was necessary to have it cooked, and he busied himself for a few moments in collecting a few dried sticks, and plucking the feathers from the fowl and dressing it. while thus occupied, he did not forget to keep his eyes about him, and to be prepared for the indian in case he chose to come back. he discovered nothing suspicious, however, and came to believe there was no danger at all. at length, when the afternoon was well advanced, the trapper's dinner was prepared. he took the fowl from the blaze, and cutting a piece with his hunting-knife, was in the very act of placing it in his mouth, when the sharp crack of a rifle broke the stillness, and he fell backward, pierced through the body by the bullet of the indian whom he had been pursuing. "it's all up!" muttered the dying man. "i am wiped out at last, and must go under!" [illustration: "it's all up!" muttered the dying man. "i am wiped out at last, and must go under!"] the lost trail had been the means of tim, the trapper, discovering what proved to him _the trail of death!_ chapter ix. the dead shot. and now 'tis still i no sound to wake the primal forest's awful shade; and breathless lies the covert brake, where many an ambushed form is laid. i see the red-man's gleaming eye, yet all so hushed, the gloom profound, that summer birds flit heedlessly, and mocking nature smiles around.--lunt. five years have passed. it is the summer of . in that comparatively brief period, what vast changes have taken place! how many have come upon and departed from the stage of life! how many plans, intentions and resolutions have been formed and either failed or succeeded! how many governments have toppled to the earth, and followed by "those that in their turn shall follow them." what a harvest it has been for death! the missionary's cabin stands on the clearing where it was first erected, and there is little change in its outward appearance, save that perhaps it has been more completely isolated from the wood. the humble but rather massive structure is almost impervious to the touch of time. it is silent and deserted within. around the door plays a little boy, the image of his mother, while some distance away, under the shadow of the huge tree, sits the missionary himself. one leg is thrown over the other, an open book turned with its face downward upon his lap, while his hands are folded upon it, and he is looking off toward the wood in deep abstraction of thought. time has not been so gentle with harvey richter. there are lines upon his face, and a sad, wearied expression that does not properly belong there. it would have required full fifteen years, in the ordinary course of events, to have bowed him in this manner. the young man--for he is still such--and his little boy are the only ones who now dwell within the cabin. no tidings or rumors have reached him of the fate of his wife, who was so cruelly taken from him four years before. the faithful teddy is still searching for her. the last two winters he has spent at home, but each summer he has occupied in wandering hither and thither through the great wilderness, in his vain searching for the lost trail. cast down and dejected, he has never yet entirely abandoned hope of finding traces of her. he had followed out the suggestion of the trapper, and visited the indians that dwelt further north, where he was informed that nothing whatever was known of the missing woman. since that time his search had been mostly of an aimless character, which, as we have already stated, could be productive of no definite results. the missionary had become, in a degree, resigned to his fate; and yet, properly speaking, he could not be said to be resigned, for he was not yet convinced that she was entirely lost to him. all traces of the strange hunter seemed irrecoverably gone, but richter still devoutly believed the providence of god would adjust everything in due time. it is true, at seasons, he was filled with doubt and misgiving; but his profession, his devotedness to his work, brought him in such close communion with his divine master that he trusted fully in his providences. on this summer afternoon, thoughts of his wife and of the strange hunter occupied his mind more exclusively than they had for a year past. so constant and preoccupying, indeed, were they, that he once or twice believed he was on the eve of learning something regarding her. while engaged in reading, the figures of his wife and the hunter would obtrude themselves; he found it impossible to dismiss them, so he had laid down the book and gone off into this absorbing reverie. an additional fear or presentiment at times haunted the mind of the missionary. he believed this hunter who could resort to such diabolical means to revenge himself, would seek to inflict further injury upon him, and he instinctively looked upon his boy as the vulnerable point where the blow would be likely to fall. for over a year, while teddy was absent, richter had taken the boy with him, when making his daily visits to the village, and made it a point never to lose sight of him. during these years of loneliness, also, harvey richter had hunted a great deal in the woods and had attained remarkable skill in the use of the rifle--an accomplishment for which he had reason to be thankful for the remainder of his life, as we shall presently see. on a pleasant afternoon, he frequently employed himself in shooting at a target, or at small game in the lofty trees around him, until his aim became so unerring that not a warrior among the sioux could excel him. it may seem singular, but our readers will understand us when we say that this added to his popularity--and, in a manner, paved a way for reaching many a heart that hitherto had remained unmoved by his appeals. the year preceding, an indian had presented the missionary with a goat, to the neck of which was attached a large cow-bell, that probably had been obtained of some trader. where the animal came from, however, he had never been able to tell. it was a very acceptable present, as it became a companion for his charley, who spent many and many an hour in sporting with it. it also afforded for a while a much-valued luxury in the shape of milk, so that the missionary came to regard the animal as an indispensable requirement in his household. the goat acquired a troublesome habit of wandering off in the woods, with an inclination not to return for several days. from this cause the bell became useful as a signal to indicate the animal's whereabouts. it rarely wandered beyond hearing, and caused no more trouble than would have resulted from a cow under the same circumstances. for the last few weeks it had been the duty, or rather privilege, of charley to bring his playmate home, and the child had become so expert that the father had little hesitation in permitting him to go out for it. the parent had misgivings, however, in allowing him to leave the house, so near dark, to go beyond his sight if not beyond his hearing; and for some time he had strenuously refused to permit the boy to go upon his errand; but the little fellow plead so earnestly, and the father's ever-present apprehensions having gradually dulled by their want of realization, he had given his reluctant consent, until it came to be considered the special province of the boy to bring in the goat every evening just before nightfall. the afternoon wore away, and still the missionary sat with folded hands, gazing absently off in the direction of the wood. the boy at length aroused him by running up and asking: "father, it is getting late. isn't it time to bring dolly home?" "yes, my son; do you hear the bell?" "listen!" the pleasant _tink-a-link_ came with faint distinctness over the still summer air. "it isn't far away, my son; so run as fast as you can and don't play or loiter on the way." the child ran rapidly across the clearing in the direction of the sound, shot into the wood, and, a moment later, had disappeared from his father's sight. the father still sat in his seat, and was looking absently toward the forest, when a startled expression flashed over his face and he sprung to his feet. what thus alarmed him? _it was the sound of the goat-bell._ all of my readers who have heard the sound of an ordinary cow-bell suspended to the neck of an animal, have observed that the natural sound is an _irregular one_--that is, there is no system or regularity about the sound made by an animal in cropping the grass or herbage. there is the clapper's tink-a-link, tink-a-link--an interval of silence--then the occasional tink, tink, tink, to be followed, perhaps, by a repetition of the first-named sounds, varied occasionally by a compound of all, caused by the animal flinging its head to free itself from troublesome flies or mosquitoes. the bell in question, however, gave no such sounds _as these_, and it was this fact which filled the missionary with a sudden, terrible dread. suppose a person take one of these bells in his hand, and give a steady, _uninterrupted_ motion. the consequence must be a regular, unvarying, monotonous sound, which any ear can distinguish from the natural one caused by the animal itself. it was a steady tink, tink, tink, that the bell in question sent forth. the missionary stood but a moment; then dashing into the house, he took down his ever-loaded rifle and ran in the direction of the sound. in his hurry, he forgot powder-horn and bullet, and had, as a consequence, but a single charge in his rifle. he had gone scarcely a hundred yards, when he encountered the goat returning home. one glance showed there was _no bell_ to its neck, while that ominous tink, tink, tink, came through the woods as uninterruptedly as before. the father now broke into a swifter run, almost losing his presence of mind from his great, agonizing fear. the picture of the indian, whom he had felled to the floor, when he insulted his wife years before, rose before him, and he saw his child already struggling in the savage's merciless grasp. nearer and nearer he approached the sound, until he suddenly paused, conscious that it was but a short distance away. hurrying stealthily but rapidly several rods to the right, the whole thing was almost immediately made plain to him. two trees, from some cause or other, had fallen to the ground in a parallel direction and within a yard of each other. between the trunks of these an indian was crouched, who held the goat-bell in his left hand, and caused the sound which so startled the father. the savage had his back turned toward the missionary, and appeared to be looking in the opposite direction, as if he were waiting the appearance of some one. while the father stood gazing at this, he saw his boy come to view about fifty feet the other side of the indian, and, as if wearied with his unusual hunt, seat himself upon a log. as soon as the boy was visible, the savage--whom richter recognized at once as the same man that he had felled to the floor of his cabin, four years before--called into use a little common sense, which, if it had been practised somewhat sooner, must have completely deluded the father and accomplished the design meditated. if, instead of giving the bell the monotonous tink, the indian had shaken the clapper irregularly, it would have resulted in the certain capture of the child, beyond the father's power of aid or rescue. the missionary, we say, penetrated the design of the indian almost instantly. although he saw nothing but the head and top of one shoulder, he recognized, with a quick instinct, the villain who had felt the weight of his hand years before, and who had now come in the fullness of time, to claim his revenge. directly in front of the savage rose a small bush, which, while it gave him a view of the boy, concealed himself from the child's observation. the object of the indian seemed to be to lure the boy within his reach, so as to secure him without his making an outcry or noise. if he could draw him close to the logs, he would spring upon him in an instant, and prevent any scream, which assuredly must reach the father, who, with his unerring rifle would have been upon the ground in a few moments. it was an easy matter for the savage to slay the boy. it would not have done to shoot his rifle, but he could have tomahawked him in an instant; hence it was plain that he desired only to take him prisoner. he might have sprung upon his prey in the woods, but there he ran the risk of being seen by the child soon enough for him to make an outcry, which would not fail of bringing immediate assistance. his plan, therefore, was, to beguile the little fellow on until he had walked directly into the snare, as a fly is lured into the web of a spider. this, we say, was the plan of the indian. it had never entered into his calculations that the goat, after being robbed of her bell, might go home and tell a tale, or that there were other ways in which the boy could be secured, without incurring half the peril he already had incurred. the moment the father comprehended what we have endeavored to make plain, he raised his rifle, with the resolve to shoot the savage through the head. as he did so, he recalled the fact that he had but a single charge, and that, as a consequence, a miss would be the death-warrant of himself as well as of his child. but he knew his eye and hand would never fail him. his finger already pressed the trigger, when he was restrained by an unforeseen impediment. while the deadly rifle was poised, the boy stretched himself up at full length, a movement which made known to the father that his child was exactly in range with the indian himself, and that a bullet passing through the head of the savage could not fail to bury itself in the little fellow's body. this startling circumstance arrested the pressure of the trigger at the very moment the ball was to be sped upon its errand of death. the missionary sunk down upon one knee, with the intention of bringing the head of the savage so high as to carry the bullet over the body of his boy, but this he found could not be done without too seriously endangering his aim. he drew a bead from one side of the tree, and then from the other, but from both stand-points the same dreadful danger threatened. the ground behind the tree was somewhat elevated, and was the only spot from which he could secure a fair view of the bronze head of the relentless enemy. two resorts were at the command of richter. he could leave the tree altogether, and pass around so as to come upon the savage from a different direction; but this involved delay during which his boy might fall into the indian's power and be dispatched, as he would be sure to do when he found that the father was close at hand; and from the proximity of the two men, it could hardly fail to precipitate a collision between them. the indian, finding himself at bay, could not fail to prove a most troublesome and dangerous customer, unarmed, as richter was, with weapons for a close encounter. the father might also wait until the boy should pass out of range. still, there was the possibility of his proceeding directly up to the spot where the savage lurked, thus keeping in range all the while. then the attempted rescue would have to be deferred until the child was in the hands of the savage. these considerations, passing through richter's brain much more rapidly than we have narrated them, decided him to abandon both plans, and to resort to what, beyond question, was a most desperate expedient. the indian held the bell in his left hand. it was suspended by the string which had clasped the neck of the goat, and, as it swayed gently back and forth, this string slowly twisted and untwisted itself, the bell, of course, turning back and forth. the father determined to slay the indian and save his son by _shooting this bell_! it is not necessary to describe the shape and make of the common cow-bell in general use throughout our country; but it is necessary that the reader should bear them in mind in order to understand the manner in which the missionary proposed to accomplish this result. his plan was to strike the bell when in the proper position, and _glance the bullet into the head of the savage_! the desperate nature of this expedient will be seen at once. should the gun be discharged when the flat side of the bell was turned toward him, the ball would pass through, and most probably kill his child without endangering the life of the indian. if it struck the narrow side, it accomplished neither harm nor good; while, if fired at the precise moment, and still aimed but an inch too low, the bell would most likely be perforated. consequently, it was requisite that the rifle be discharged at the precise instant of time when the signal brass was in the correct position, and that the aim should be infallibly true. all this richter realized only too painfully; but, uttering an inward prayer, he raised his rifle with a nerve that knew no faltering or fear, holding it pointed until the critical moment should arrive. that moment would be when the string was wound up, and was turning, to unwind. then, as it was almost stationary, he fired. no sound or outcry betrayed the result; but, clubbing his rifle, the father bounded forward, over the trees, to the spot where the indian was crouching. there he saw him in his death-struggle upon the ground the bell still held fast in his hand. in that critical moment, harvey richter could not forbear glancing at it. its top was indented, and sprinkled with white by the glancing passage of the lead. the blood, oozing down the face of the savage, plainly showed how unerringly true had been the aim. something in the upward look of the dying man startled the missionary. "harvey richter--don't you know me?" he gasped. [illustration: "harvey richter--don't you know me?" he gasped.] "i know you as a man who has sought to do me a wrong that only a fiend could have perpetrated. great heaven! can it be? is this you, brazey davis?" "yes; but you've finished me, so there isn't much left." "are you the man, brazey, who has haunted me ever since we came in this country? are you the person who carried away poor, dear cora?" "yes--yes!" answered the man, with fainting weariness. such, indeed, was the case. the strange hunter and the indian known as mahogany were one and the same person. "brazey, why have you haunted me thus, and done me this great wrong?" "i cannot tell. when i thought how you took her from me, it made me crazy when i thought about it. i wanted to take her from you, but i wouldn't have dared to do that if you hadn't struck me. i wanted revenge then." "what have you done with her?" "she is gone, i haven't seen her since the day after i seized her, when a band of indians took her from me, and went up north with her. they have got her yet, i know, for i have kept watch over her, and she is safe, but is a close prisoner." this he said with great difficulty. "brazey, you are dying. i forgive you. but does your heart tell you you are at peace with him whom you have offended so grievously?" "it's too late to talk of that now. it might have done years ago, when i was an honest man like yourself, and before i became a vagabond, bent on injuring one who had never really injured me." "it is never too late for god to forgive--" "too late--too late, i tell you! _there!_" he rose upon his elbow, his eyes burning with insane light and his hand extended. "i see her--she is coming, her white robes floating on the air. oh, god, forgive me that i did her the great wrong! but, she smiles upon me--she forgives me! i thank thee, angel of good----" he sunk slowly backward, and harvey richter eased the head softly down upon the turf. brazey davis was no more. chapter x. conclusion. heart leaps to heart--the sacred flood that warms us is the same; that good old man--his honest blood alike we frankly claim.--sprague. the missionary gazed sadly upon the inanimate form before him. he saw the playmate of his childhood stricken down in death by his own hand, which never should have taken human life, and although the act was justifiable under the circumstances, the good man could but mourn the painful necessity that occasioned it. the story, although possessing tragic interest, was a brief one. brazey davis, as he had always been termed, was a few years older than himself, and a native of the same neighborhood. he was known in childhood as one possessing a vindictive spirit that could never forgive an injury--as a person who would not hesitate at any means to obtain revenge. it so happened that he became desperately enamored of the beautiful cora brandon, but becoming aware, at length, that she was the betrothed of harvey braisted, the young missionary in embryo, the disappointed lover left the country, and was never heard of by the missionary until he made himself known in the singular manner that we have related at the opening of our narrative. he had, in fact, come to be a sort of monomaniac, who delighted in annoying his former rival, and in haunting his footsteps as if he were his evil shadow. the abduction of his wife had not been definitely determined upon until that visit to the cabin, in the garb and paint of an indian, when he received the tremendous blow that almost drove the life from his body. davis then resolved to take the revenge which would "cut" the deepest. how well he succeeded, the reader has learned. the missionary's child stood pleading for an explanation of the strange scene before him. loosening the bell from the grasp of the dead man, the minister took the little hand, and, with a heart overflowing with emotion, set out for his cabin. it was his wish to give the hunter a christian burial; but, for the present, it was impossible. these dying words rung in his ears: "the indians took her from me, and went up north with her, where she now is, _and safe_!" blessed thought! she was then living, and was yet to be restored to his arms. the shadow of death passed away, and a great light illuminated his very being. the lost was found! when the missionary came to be more collected, he concluded that this must be the tribe of which teddy had once spoken, but which had been visited by him without success. the prize was too great to be intrusted in the hands of another, and harvey determined to make the search in person, to settle, if possible, once and forever, the fate of his beloved wife. he soon proceeded to the indian village, where he left his boy and gave notice that he should not be back for several days. he then called one of the most trusty and skillful warriors aside, and asked for his company upon the eventful journey. the savage cheerfully complied, and the two set out at once. it was a good distance to the northward, and when night came down upon them, many miles yet remained to be passed. there was little fear of disturbance from enemies, and both lay down and slept until daylight, when they were immediately on their way again. this journey through the northern wilderness was unvaried by any event worthy of record, and the details would be uninteresting to the reader. suffice it to say that, just as the fourth day was closing in, they struck a small stream, which pursued a short distance, brought them directly upon the village for which they had been searching. the advent of the indian and missionary among them created considerable stir, but they were treated with respect and consideration. harvey richter asked immediately for the chief or leading man, and shortly stood in his presence. he found him a short, thick-set half-breed, whose age must have been well-nigh three-score years, and who, to his astonishment, was unable to speak english, although many of his subjects spoke it quite intelligibly. he understood sioux, however, and the missionary's companion acted as interpreter. our friend made a full statement of his wife's abduction, years before, and of the assertion of the dying man that she had been taken from him by members of this tribe, who had retained her ever since. the chief waited sometime before replying; he seemed debating with himself as to the proper course to pursue. finally he said he must consult with one of his warriors, and departed abruptly from the lodge. ten minutes later, while the missionary, with a painfully-throbbing heart, was gazing around the lodge, with that minute scrutiny of the most trifling objects peculiar to us at such times, he caught the sound of returning footsteps, and turned to the lodge door. there stood the indian, and, directly beside him, his own lost cora! the next day at noon, a camp-fire might have been seen some miles south of the northern village of which we have made mention. an indian was engaged in cooking a piece of meat, while the missionary and his reclaimed jewel, sitting side by side, her head reclining upon his shoulder and his hand dallying with her hair, were holding delightful communion. she looked pale and somewhat emaciated, for these years of absence had indeed been fraught with suffering; but the old sweet look had never departed. it was now changed into an expression of perfect joy. the wife's great anxiety was to reach home and see the child she had left an infant, but who was now a frolicksome boy, and she could hardly consent to pause even when night overtook them, and her lagging limbs told her husband how exhausted she had become. cora never had suspected the identity of the indian and the hunter, until on that sad day when he sprung from behind the cabin and hurried her off into the wood. there was something, however, in his look, when he first felt the weight of her husband's blow, that never left her remembrance. while hurrying her swiftly through the wood he said nothing at all, and at night, while she pretended to sleep, he watched by the camp-fire. it was the light of this fire which had puzzled teddy so much. on the succeeding day the abductor reached the river and embarked in his canoe. a half-hour later he leaned over the canoe and washed the paint from his face and made himself known in his true character, as brazey davis, her former lover. he had scarcely done so, when an indian canoe rounded a bend in the river, and, despite his earnest protestations, the savages took the captive from him, and carried her with them to their village, where she had been ever since. retained very closely, as all prisoners among indians are, she had heard nothing of teddy's visit. she was treated with kindness, as the destined wife of a young chief; but the suit for her consent never was pressed by the chief, as it is in an indian's code of honor never to force a woman to a distasteful marriage. the young brave, with true indian pertinacity, could wait his time, confident that his kindness and her long absence from home would secure her consent to the savage alliance. she was denied nothing but her liberty, and her prayers to be returned to her husband and child. at this point in her narration, an exclamation from the indian arrested attention. all listened and heard but a short distance away: "begorrah, teddy, it's yerself that's entitled to a wee bit of rist, as yees have been on a mighty long tramp, and hasn't diskivered anything but a country that is big enough to hide the atlantic ocean in, wid ireland on its bosom as a jewel. the chances are small of yees iver gitting another glimpse of heaven--that is, of miss cora's face. the darlint; if she's gone to heaven, then teddy mcfadden don't care how soon somebody else wears out his breeches--that is, on the presumption that st. peter will say, 'teddy, me lad, ye can inter an' make yerself at home, to be sure!'" the husband and wife glanced at each other significantly as the fellow rattled on. "wait a moment," said harvey, rising to his feet, and carefully making his way in the direction of the sound. it was curious that the irishman should have paused for his noonday rest in such close proximity to our friends; but, he had learned from a trader who had recently visited the red river country, that there _was_ a white woman, beyond all question, among the tribe in the north, and he was on his way to make them a second visit. the missionary found his servant seated by a tree. teddy looked up as he heard a footstep. it seemed as if his eyes would drop from their sockets. his mouth opened wide, and he seemed, for the moment, confounded. then he recovered his presence of mind in a measure, and proceeded to scratch his head vigorously. that, with him, ever was a sign of the clearing up of his ideas. "how do you do, teddy?" at length the missionary said, after having enjoyed the poor fellow's confusion. "faith, but ye sent the cold shivers over me. _is_ it yerself, mister harvey, out in these woods, or is it yer ghost on the s'arch for misthress cora? i sometimes thinks me own ghost is out on the s'arch without me body, an' i shouldn't be surprised to maat it some day. but i'm mighty glad it's yerself an' not yer ghost, for, to till the thruth, i don't jist like ghosts--they makes a body feel so quare in the stomach." "come with me; i have an indian as company, and you may as well join us." the hibernian followed, a few paces behind, continually expressing his astonishment at seeing his master so far away from home. he did not look up until they were within a few paces of the camp-fire, when richter stepped from before him. "save us! save us! but if there isn't the ghowst of miss cora come to haunt me for not finding her afore!" exclaimed teddy, retreating a step or two in genuine terror. "saint patherick, saint pether, saint virgin mary, protict me! i didn't mane to get dhrunk that day, ye know, nor to make a frind of--" "i am no ghost but my own self, teddy, restored to my husband in safety. can you not welcome me?" "oorah! oorah!" and he danced a moment in uncontrollable joy. then he exclaimed: "god bliss yer own swate self!" taking her in his brawny arms. "god bliss you! no ghost, but yer own swate self. oh, i feel like a blast of powder ready to go off!" and again he danced a singular commixture of the jig and cotillion, much to the indian's amazement, for he thought him crazy. "i knew that i should look upon your face again; but, till me where it is yees have come from?" he finally subsided enough to ask. teddy was soon made to understand all that related to the return of the young wife. when he learned that mahogany, with whom he had so often drank and "hobnobbed," was only the hunter disguised, who was thus plotting his crime, the irishman's astonishment can hardly be described. he was irritated, also, at his own stupidity. "that teddy mcfadden iver should have been so desaved by that rascal of purgatory!" he exclaimed; but, as the evil man had gone to the great tribunal above, there was no disposition, even in teddy's heart, to heap curses on his memory. a few days more, and the three whites passed through the indian village on their way to the clearing. the joy of the savages at the return of their sweet, pale-faced sister was manifested in many ways, and she once feared they would never allow her to leave them and go to her own humble home. finally, however, they reached the clearing, and, as they walked side by side across it, opened the door and sat down within the cabin, and the fond mother took the darling boy in her lap, the wife and husband looked in each other's faces with streaming eyes, and murmured "thank god! thank god!" the end. * * * * * reasons why you should obtain a catalogue of our publications . you will possess a comprehensive and classified list of all the best standard books published, at prices less than offered by others. . you will find listed in our catalogue books on every topic: poetry, fiction, romance, travel, adventure, humor, science, history, religion, biography, drama, etc., besides dictionaries and manuals, bibles, recitation and hand books, sets, octavos, presentation books and juvenile and nursery literature in immense variety. . you will be able to purchase books at prices within your reach; as low as cents for paper covered books, to $ . for books bound in cloth or leather, adaptable for gift and presentation purposes, to suit the tastes of the most critical. . you will save considerable money by taking advantage of our special discounts, which we offer to those whose purchases are large enough to warrant us in making a reduction. _a postal to us will place it in your hands_ hurst & co., _publishers_, , , broadway, new york. * * * * * books by charles carleton coffin author of "boys of ' " "boys of ' " [illustration] charles carleton coffin's specialty is books pertaining to the war. his celebrated writings with reference to the great rebellion have been read by thousands. we have popularized him by publishing his best works at reduced prices. following the flag. charles carleton coffin my days and nights on the battlefield. charles carleton coffin winning his way. charles carleton coffin six in a block house. henry c. watson be sure to get one of each. price, postpaid, fifty cents. obtain our latest complete catalogue. hurst & co., publishers, new york * * * * * c.a. stephens books [illustration] an author whose writings are famous and whose stories are brim-full of adventure. boys delight in reading them. we publish six of his best. camping out fox hunting left on labrador lynx hunting off to the geysers on the amazon sent anywhere, postage paid, upon receipt of fifty cents. our complete list sent you upon receipt of a postal. hurst & co., publishers, new york * * * * * capt. marryat's works [illustration] this writer is celebrated for his sea stories. they are bound to please and entertain their readers and we urgently ask that boys obtain the complete set of six books. no library is complete without them. jacob faithful japhet in search of a father masterman ready mr. midshipman easy peter simple rattlin, the reefer sent anywhere, postage paid, upon receipt of fifty cents. complete catalogue sent when requested hurst & co., publishers, new york * * * * * log cabin to white house series a famous series of books, formerly sold at $ . per copy, are now popularized by reducing the price less than half. the lives of these famous americans are worthy of a place in any library. a new book by edward s. ellis--"from ranch to white house"--is a life of theodore roosevelt, while the author of the others, william m. thayer, is a celebrated biographer. from ranch to white house: life of theodore roosevelt. from boyhood to manhood; life of benjamin franklin. from farm house to white house; life of george washington. from log cabin to white house; life of james a. garfield. from pioneer home to white house; life of abraham lincoln. from tannery to white house; life of ulysses s. grant. success and its achievers. tact, push and principle. these titles, though by different authors, also belong to this series of books: from cottage to castle; the story of gutenberg, inventor of printing. by mrs. e.c. pearson. capital for working boys. by mrs. julia e. m'conaughy. price, postpaid, for any of the above ten books, c. a complete catalogue sent for the asking. hurst & co. publishers, new york generously made available by the internet archive/american libraries.) [illustration: photo of alfred j. hill and handwritten inscription: "yours truly, alfred j. hill"] history of company e of the sixth minnesota regiment of volunteer infantry. by alfred j. hill. with an appendix by capt. charles j. stees. published by prof. t. h. lewis. st. paul, minn.: pioneer press co. . entered, according to act of congress, in the year , by prof. t. h. lewis, in the office of the librarian of congress, at washington. all rights reserved. preface. it will be remembered by those connected with the military service that towards the end of the late civil war, there went through the camps and barracks of the volunteer soldiers agents of publishing houses busily engaged in procuring material for "company histories," and still more anxiously soliciting subscriptions for the same. these histories were mere broadsides or charts, giving the name and rank of each man, with a few other personal facts, compiled from the muster rolls, and in addition an abstract of campaign movements, battles, and so forth; all the information being brought up to date of subscription. of course as permanent and final records such publications would be failures, there being no "next" in which to "conclude" their stories. while the sixth minnesota infantry regiment lay at new orleans, one of the visitations described occurred to it (this being a very successful one), and thereupon a member of company e proposed to a comrade the getting up of something of the kind among themselves, to be of home manufacture. time permitting, the work was then commenced, continued in the field, and kept up with current events till the order for return home of the command to which the company belonged. serious illness of the compiler, and the scattering of the members of the company, prevented the finishing of the work at the intended time, and caused its indefinite postponement. as a contribution, though humble, to material for some future history of the part taken by minnesota in the war for the union this little book has been completed and published, and the writer would be greatly pleased if its appearance should stimulate the necessary research for the putting on record in somewhat similar form of the histories of other companies of our state regiments. alfred j. hill. st. paul, minn., . part i. origin and organization-- . in the spring of a sixth regiment of infantry had been called for from minnesota by the governor of the state, but, from various causes, the enlistments proceeded very languidly till the disasters of the virginian armies in the summer and the consequent proclamations of the president of the united states for volunteers gave an immense impulse to recruiting. under such circumstances it was that the "sigel guards," afterwards company e of the sixth regiment, were projected and raised. in the month of june, mathias holl, of st. paul, was authorized to recruit for the proposed company; and on the rd of july, twenty men having been enlisted, he received a regular recruiting commission. rudolph schoenemann and christian exel, of the same city, also engaged in the work in connection with lieutenant holl, themselves enlisting in the company on the th and th of august, respectively. many of the members, however, were not obtained particularly by these gentlemen, some having been recruited for other companies or regiments and transferred involuntarily to the sigel guards, others who had purposed enlisting in other companies--that never were filled--having joined it of their own accord, while a large proportion acted as their own recruiting officers, and made it their first choice. the names of those recruited for, or who intended to join, other organizations, are as follows, viz.: ( ) beckendorf, besecke, detert, gropel, mahle, mann, metz, j. j. mueller, schaefer, simon, and temme, were to have belonged to the company projected by messrs. klinkenfus, knauft, and krueger, of lower town, st. paul. they joined in a body. ( ) bast, blesius, blessner, dreis, fandel, greibler, hoscheid, and neierburg were enlisted august th by messrs. julius gross and lieutenant kreitz, of st. paul, for the tenth regiment, but were transferred to the sixth. ( ) george paulson, a recruit for l. c. dayton's company (st. paul) for the eighth regiment, was transferred to the sixth. ( ) john, kilian, kraemer, meyer, praxl, and radke came to fort snelling from winona, as recruits for the seventh regiment, but enlisted instead in the sigel guards. all the recruits were enlisted and sworn in as privates except the drummer, the period of enlistment being "for three years unless sooner discharged." the general rendezvous was at fort snelling, and, the "minimum" number ( ) having been obtained, the company was provisionally organized there, on the th of august, by the enlisted men expressing, by vote, their preference for candidates to fill the commissioned offices, and by the captain, then chosen, appointing the non-commissioned officers. schoenemann and holl were thus respectively elected captain and second lieutenant of the sigel guards, and were commissioned as such, on the th, by the governor of the state, and lieutenant exel, already commissioned (august th), accepted as first lieutenant. by the th of august the aggregate number of members was ; their names, rank, etc., being shown in the following roll: ----------------------------+-----------------------+----------- | | when name | native country | enlisted | | ----------------------------+-----------------------+----------- officers. | | ----------------------------+-----------------------+----------- _captain_ -- | | *rudolph schoenemann | prussia | aug. _first lieutenant_ -- | | christian exel | hesse darmstadt | aug. _second lieutenant_ -- | | mathias holl | hesse darmstadt | july _first sergeant_ -- | | justus b. bell | ohio | aug. _second sergeant_ -- | | george huhn | bavaria | aug. _third sergeant_ -- | | *frederick scheer | prussia | july _fourth sergeant_ -- | | ernst j. knobelsdorff | prussia | july _fifth sergeant_ -- | | *elias siebert | hesse cassel | aug. _first corporal_ -- | | *paul p. huth | prussia | june _second corporal_ -- | | john burch | prussia | aug. _third corporal_ -- | | *mathias mueller | prussia | aug. _fourth corporal_ -- | | *william rohde | hesse cassel | aug. _fifth corporal_ -- | | peter leitner | bavaria | aug. _sixth corporal_ -- | | reinhard stiefel | prussia | aug. _seventh corporal_ -- | | george sauer | bavaria | aug. _eighth corporal_ -- | | richard mueller | prussia | aug. _musician_ -- | | *charles seidel | prussia | july _privates_ -- | | bast, william | luxemburg | aug. beckendorf, peter h. | prussia | aug. becker, mathias | prussia | aug. besecke, ferdinand | prussia | aug. blesius, john | prussia | aug. blessner, charles | luxemburg | aug. boos, michael | bavaria | june bristle, christian | baden | aug. detert, henry | prussia | aug. dreis, nicholas | luxemburg | aug. *eberdt, charles | mecklenb | aug. eheim, joseph | austria | aug. fandel, henry | luxemburg | aug. *ferlein, joseph | bavaria | june fischer, louis | switzerland | aug. gaheen, samuel | canada | aug. *gantner, jacob | switzerland | june goldner, joseph | prussia | july griebler, joseph | prussia | aug. *gropel, henry | prussia | aug. hahn, f. carl | wurtemberg | july harrfeldt, august | holstein | july hauck, jacob | baden | aug. *hellmann, herman | prussia | aug. henricks, frederick | prussia | july henricks, henry | prussia | aug. hill, alfred j. | england | aug. hill, william a. | virginia | july hoscheid, nicholas | luxemburg | aug. jakobi, conrad | hesse darmstadt | july john, jacob | bremen | aug. *juergens, louis | waldeck | aug. *kellermann, august | prussia | aug. kernen, jacob | switzerland | aug. kilian, philip | hesse darmstadt | aug. *klinghammer, louis | prussia | july *kobelitz, frederick | bremen | july *koenig, louis | baden | aug. *kraemer, frederick | wurtemberg | aug. *krueger, henry | schleswig | aug. mahle, william | wurtemberg | aug. mann, jacob | wurtemberg | aug. *martin, frederick | prussia | aug. metz, charles | hanover | aug. maurer, john j. | prussia | aug. meyer, john h. | ohio | aug. mueckenhausen, joseph | prussia | aug. mueckenhausen, mathias | prussia | aug. mueller, john jacob | wurtemberg | aug. munson, john | sweden | june neierburg, michael | luxemburg | aug. parks, thomas m. | pennsylvania | june *[ ]paulson, george | prussia | july paulson, paul | norway | june peterson, ole | norway | july porth, william | prussia | aug. praxl, anthony a. | austria | aug. radke, rudolph | prussia | aug. rehse, august | prussia | aug. *reimers, joachim | holstein | aug. *reuter, henry | hanover | july rossion, jean | belgium | july schafer, henry | canada | aug. schauer, august | prussia | aug. scheibel, augustin | france | aug. schene, william | hanover | aug. schermann, george | austria | aug. schoenheiter, frederick | prussia | aug. simon, john | prussia | aug. smith, joseph | france | aug. smith, william a. | indiana | aug. sproesser, william d. | wurtemberg | july stengelin, gottfried | wurtemberg | july temme, charles | prussia | aug. wetteran, louis | wisconsin | aug. willialms, august | sweden | june *wolf, anton | prussia | june ----------------------------+-----------------------+----------- * in military service before. [ ] this young man's real name was paul bierstach, the other having been assumed to enable him to get sworn in without his parents' consent. with the exception of less than half a dozen, all of the above were residents of minnesota, fifty-four being from st. paul, eight from winona, and the remainder from other parts of the state. twenty-four of the members had been soldiers previously, many of them having seen active service--seventeen in european armies, one in the united states regulars, and six in the united states volunteer forces. wolf--then a boy of sixteen--enlisted in bulow's army corps, fought at quatre blas, and was present at the battle of waterloo. part . services in minnesota against the sioux indians-- - . immediately after the organization of the company the usual recruit life began. military clothing and equipments were issued, squad drill commenced, and light guard duty done in and around the fort. the quarters of the company were two rooms on the northern side of the parade grounds, with a kitchen and dining room below. fritz stirneman, a civilian, but an ex-soldier of the first regiment, assisted by rossion, was hired to do the cooking. the monotony of barrack life, however, did not last long. the news of the outbreak of the sioux indians in the western part of the state turned all thoughts from anticipations of southern campaigns to the necessities of the hour. the regiment was put on a war footing, orders to march were issued, and arms and accoutrements supplied to the men; four sibley tents being allowed for the enlisted men of each company. on the th of august the first battalion of the sixth regiment, consisting of three companies, left fort snelling for the scene of the massacre, and, together with company a, which had been ordered to march across the country, arrived at st. peter on the nd. all being ready, the second battalion, including company e, embarked on the evening of the nd, on the steamboat _wilson_ for the upper minnesota river. at the time of embarkation the aggregate strength of the company was , the number present being ; the absentees being lieutenant exel, on recruiting service; john, harrfeldt, kraemer, martin, meyer, praxl, and radke, on furlough; dreis and fandel, who had not yet joined; and porth, left behind at the fort on account of inability to march. on the morning of the rd we disembarked at shakopee, miles from the fort. from this day commenced the official organization of the regiment, it being the date of colonel william crooks' commission. the route followed was through jordan, belle plaine, and henderson, to st. peter, where we arrived on the th. all the companies of the sixth were now concentrated at this point, where an expeditionary force was collecting for the relief of fort ridgley, then sorely pressed by the indians. on the th the expedition commenced the march, and arrived at the fort on the th; the regiment encamping on the prairie near by. h. henricks was appointed wagoner of the company on the th. also on that day louis thiele, a prussian settler of the neighborhood, whose family had been murdered by the indians, enlisted in the company as a private. on the st an expedition under the command of major joseph e. brown, consisting of the union guards (company a), under captain grant, and a detail of men from the other companies of the sixth regiment, and the cullen guards under captain anderson, was dispatched to the lower agency to bury the dead, and ascertain if possible the position of the enemy. early on the morning of september nd, rapid firing was heard in the direction of the agency. the scouts reported that the detachment under major brown was attacked and surrounded at birch coolie, miles from the fort and miles from the lower agency. a second detachment under colonel mcphail, consisting of the hickory guards (company b), sigel guards (company e), young men's guard (company g), of the sixth regiment, under major mclaren, also some cavalry and one howitzer under captain mark hendricks, was at once sent forward to their relief. when within three miles of the beleaguered force, the demonstrations of the indians became so threatening--coming near enough to shoot one of the horses--that the commander of the relieving party, not daring to fight his way through, made a halt, had the horses unhitched, and disposed the men to meet the expected attack, but, as the enemy did not return any nearer to us, we shortly fell back some distance to a better position. night soon came on and it was spent watchfully by the men behind their corralled wagons, the silence being broken only by the occasional firing of the howitzer. the firing had been heard at the fort and towards morning the little force was strengthened by the arrival of the remainder of the sixth regiment, the seventh regiment, which had just arrived at the fort, and two pieces of artillery. about daylight on the rd, the combined forces were drawn up in line of battle, ready to move; the indians soon appeared and commenced the attack, but the return fire was so heavy, and evidently so unexpected, that they almost immediately retreated to the woods in the coolie, from which they were driven by the heavy fire delivered by the artillery. the indians having been repulsed, the whole force continued their march to birch coolie camp, and the indians then abandoned the attack of the party there, though the soldiers of the first relieving party were not allowed the honor of driving them, which was given to the seventh regiment. after burying the dead and attending to the wounded, the troops returned to their camp at fort ridgley. five men of the company were with the original detachment at the battle of birch coolie. r. mueller and klinghammer were severely wounded, the former in the side and arm, and the latter in the leg. they were cared for at the post hospital. dreis and fandel were there, having accompanied the volunteer cavalry from st. paul; dreis joined on the th and fandel, being wounded in the hand, went to the hospital. thiele, too, was present at this fight. about this time lieutenant exel with the seven furloughed winona men returned. shortly after this affair the order of the adjutant general of the state was received and published, fixing the letters of the companies according to the rank of the respective captains. the sigel guards were the fifth company, and so became e; in position it was therefore the seventh from the right wing of the regiment, and had, when marching during the summer, company a of the ninth regiment in front, and company k of the sixth in the rear. while preparations for the campaign were progressing, the troops were drilled daily in the "school of the soldier" and "of the company;" and, among other things, trenches were dug at the fort, and beyond the camps. about the middle of the month eberdt was detailed as regimental pioneer. on the th of the month the expeditionary force took up the line of march from its base at fort ridgley. crossing at the ferry near by, the route pursued was on the south side of the minnesota river, fording the red wood at the usual place, and touching wood lakes, about three miles from yellow medicine, which was reached on the nd. on the morning of the rd the indians surprised a foraging party half a mile distant from the camp. the third regiment formed in line, and, crossing a ravine, opened fire on the indians, but immediately received orders to fall back. the third recrossed the ravine, and, the renville rangers coming to their support, the indian advance was checked. captain hendricks placed his artillery in a raking position at the head of the ravine, and soon dislodged the enemy. on the right, colonel marshall with five companies of the seventh regiment, and companies a and i of the sixth under lieutenant colonel averill, charged and drove the indians from their position. on the left, a similar flank movement was repelled by major mclaren with companies f and k of the sixth, while the remainder of the regiment was held in reserve. the action lasted about two hours, at the end of which time, the indians being unable to withstand the murderous fire of shot and shell rained upon them, fled with great precipitation, and thus ended the battle of wood lake. the whole plan of battle seems to have been of defense, fought on the old lines of chivalry--man for man, instead of bringing all the troops in line of action and dealing the enemy a crushing blow at the beginning. this mode of action may have been very nice from an indian's point of view, but the men in the reserve who stood in line of battle for nearly two hours, and those engaged at the front who were held back and not allowed to drive the enemy, would have preferred a little less chivalry and a few more dead indians. on the th the line of march was again taken up, and on the th we arrived at the camp of the "so-called" friendly indians, where were most of the white captives taken during the insurrection, and who in a day or two were delivered up. this place was nearly opposite the mouth of the chippewa river, and near by, about a quarter of a mile south of the minnesota river, was formed the camp ever afterwards to be known in local history as camp release, from this memorable surrender of captives there. on the th of october, captain whitney, with two companies of the sixth and one from the seventh, was sent below in charge of the indian prisoners to gather the crops in the vicinity of the yellow medicine agency. on the th all the company present, in number, were mustered into the military service of the united states, "for three years from their respective dates of enrollment." on the th, colonel marshall was sent to the westward with a detachment consisting of company g of the sixth regiment, men of the third, and one howitzer, in quest of the indians reported to be near the headwaters of the lac qui parle river and two lakes (mde-nonpana) in the coteaus. the expedition returned on the st, having penetrated the prairies nearly to the james river, and having in charge about indian prisoners, including men, women and children. by company order of september nd, corporal huth was promoted to fifth sergeant, and privates j. smith and martin appointed seventh and eighth corporals, respectively. on october th warrants bearing the same date were made out and signed by the colonel for all the non-commissioned officers, making the grades agree with said order, but causing them to take effect from the th of august. on the th company f left for yellow medicine to reinforce captain whitney. on the night of the th, captain merriman, with company b and mounted men (including scouts), made a raid beyond the lower lac qui parle, and captured lodges, in all indians. on the th w. a. hill rejoined. while at camp release the duty performed was chiefly guarding the indian prisoners, foraging, and serving on camp guard,--a very strict and irksome one. company drill in the morning and battalion drill in the afternoon were also required. though within sixty miles of depots of supplies, and though the majority of the fighting men of the insurgent indians had either been captured, or had surrendered, or retreated further up the minnesota river, the rank and file of this small army had here to suffer for the want of commissary stores,--truly following the advice of the ancient philosopher to leave off eating with yet a little appetite. had it not been for the potatoes of the indian gardens and cattle of the slaughtered and fugitive settlers--which provisions, though costing nothing to the government at the time, were made to offset the amounts due for non-issued rations, the source of "company funds"--we would have been nearly starved. the return march was begun on the rd of october, on which day the weather turned suddenly cold and a high wind rose, which blew down many of the tents at yellow medicine that night. arrived at the lower agency on the th, and then went into camp at camp sibley; and remained there till the th of november, and then resumed the march. the next day the company was detailed as guard for the prisoners, two men being assigned to each wagon. though the troops left the village of new ulm a mile or more to the left, yet the citizens, exasperated at the sight of the indians in the wagons guarded by the soldiers, lined the road opposite the town in great excitement, hurling stones and endeavoring to get at the indians, in which they partly succeeded. on the th we arrived at blue earth river bridge, and camped a little beyond it, on the townsite of le hillier (l'huillier) and immediately south of the isolated bluff at the mouth of the river,--the camp being called camp lincoln. here eberdt was relieved. fischer left on the th on furlough, from which he never returned; juergens and knobelsdorff, sick, were sent to the hospital at mankato the same day. gaheen, gantner, meyer and parks had been detailed or detached as regimental teamsters during parts of october and november, but by this time were all with the company again for duty. the regiment marched, by the way of mankato, to st. peter, on the th, having traveled to the latter place, since leaving fort snelling in august, as a regiment of the expeditionary brigade, about miles. the campaign being terminated, the companies departed to their various assigned winter stations,--companies a, b, g, h, and k for fort snelling; d for forest city; e for hutchinson, mcleod county; and c, f, and i for glencoe. lieutenant holl was detailed as quartermaster and commissary for the company during its separation from the regiment. on the th of november we left st. peter with companies c, d, and f: four miles beyond new auburn parted with c and f, and with d at hutchinson, where we arrived on the th. this place was already garrisoned by company b of the ninth regiment, quartered in good log houses, but there was no accommodation for the newly-arrived company, and fatigue parties had at once to be set to work cutting and hauling logs for building. the season, however, being too far advanced, the work was abandoned, permission having been obtained to hire quarters at kingston instead. on the th dreis died of diphtheria. he was buried in the village burial-grounds near by. seven men had to be left at hutchinson on departure,--five sick and two as nurses. on the th we left for kingston, traveling by the way of greenleaf, round lake, and forest city, and reaching destination the next day. an old frame store near the mill on the west bank of the crow river was used for barrack purposes, and by the erection of a log kitchen and bake house, with some other improvements, served the purpose very well. duties were light, provisions good and ample in quantity, and the time passed pleasantly enough. a system of furloughs was inaugurated, and every man had the privilege of fifteen days' leave of absence. after the departure of fischer, koenig had to cook alone, and when he went on furlough, december th, gantner and rossion conducted the kitchen in the interim. sergeant burch left on furlough on the th, but being detailed in st. paul at district headquarters he did not return to the company at the expiration of his leave of absence; also griebler, who did not return to kingston either. sergeant scheer was reduced to the ranks at his own request on the th, and on the same day corporal burch was, by company order, promoted to fifth sergeant; also privates neierburg and eheim were appointed, respectively, seventh and eighth corporals, on the th of january, , to fill vacancies, the enlisted men having shown their preferences by special election; the same day also gaheen and hauck were similarly recommended for company cooks, and were detailed as such. juergens rejoined on the th. a. j. hill left for washington, d.c., in obedience to orders from the headquarters of the army requiring him to report there for duty; same day john left on furlough, but, becoming ill, did not return to the company at its expiration. sproesser was detailed as company fifer on february st. klinghammer rejoined, sick, on the th; he having been mustered in at fort ridgley on the th of october. the company being ordered to fort snelling, where the headquarters of the regiment were, left kingston on the th of february, on the arrival of company h, which relieved it, and traveled, in sleighs mostly, by the way of clear water and dayton, reaching the fort on the st of march. quarters were assigned it in the old barracks, near the sutler's store, and the usual routine of drill and guard duty began again. here fandel joined, sick, and griebler rejoined. jakobi was detailed as company bugler on the nd, and john rejoined on the th. private kobelitz was on the st of april honorably discharged, for disability. the regiment went into camp on the river, about a mile above the fort, on the th, and sibley tents were issued as before. george paulson left on detached service for yellow medicine on the th, afterwards (in june) acting as orderly at regimental headquarters. william gabbert, a prussian, resident of st. paul, enlisted as private in the company on the th. privates griebler and maurer left on the th on a (forged) pass, but did not return at the proper time, and were afterwards found to have deserted. privates harrfeldt, w. a. hill, and meyer were, by district order of the st of may, transferred to the third minnesota battery. part . indian campaign in minnesota and dakota-- - . at the end of april, , orders were received to rendezvous at camp pope on the upper minnesota river. fifteen of the men had to be left behind at the fort, viz.: j. j. mueller and reimers, on detached service; and becker, fandel, gantner, john, kellermann, knobelsdorff, koenig, mann, j. mueckenhausen, peterson, schauer, scheer, and wolf, sick. on the th of april companies e and d embarked on the steamboat favorite, but could go no further by water than to within about three miles of mankato, thence going on foot, arriving at their destination on the th of may. camp pope was not an original settlement, but a spot selected especially as a base of operations against the indians; for which purpose storehouses had been erected there. it was situated on the river about a mile and a quarter above the crossing of the red wood river. on the reassembling of the regiment the company held the same rank ( th) and position ( th) as before, but had as neighbors company g on the right and company i on the left. in the latter part of the month (may) a regimental band was formed, and seidel, eberdt, and jakobi were detailed as members of it. j. j. mueller and reimers rejoined on the th. detert was detailed as regimental pioneer on the th. the expedition being ready, those sick and unable to travel were left behind at camp pope; of company e, hellmann and paul paulson remained there. the strength of the company present at this time was , and aggregate number . the second expedition for the chastisement of the dakotas left camp pope on the th of june, . the th and st of the month were spent in camp. on the rd, transportation permitting, the knapsacks of the men were carried in wagons. the valley between big stone lake and lake traverse was reached on the th, and a camp established about a mile from the latter on the south side of the minnesota river (there but a rivulet), which camp was situated near but outside of the state boundary. the camp was called mclaren, and three days were spent there. from here a detachment consisting of three companies of infantry, including company h of the sixth regiment, some cavalry, and one piece of artillery, all under command of lieutenant colonel averill, was dispatched to fort abercrombie for supplies. klinghammer, unable to march, was sent along to the fort. it may be here noted, as a matter of interest to hydrographers, that lake traverse was not at this time an unbroken sheet of water, as a corporal of company g crossed it on foot near the middle, seeing the lake in two parts, to the right and left of him. resumed the march on june th, and forded the sheyenne river on the th of july, camping a little beyond it at a spot three-quarters of a mile northeast of the two mounds called "the bowshot" and in the neighborhood of where the fight occurred about forty years before between the pawnees, shawnees, and sheyennes, which, as i am informed, resulted in the annihilation of the last-named tribe. at this place,--named camp hayes,-- miles distant from camp mclaren, the expedition lay six days, awaiting the supply train, which arrived on the th. resumed the march on the th, on which day lieutenant exel left on furlough. the th was spent in camp. the second crossing of the sheyenne was made on the th. on the th arrived at two lakes named jessie[ ] and leda, miles from camp hayes. an entrenched camp was established on the banks of the former (the more easterly one of these two lakes) which was about three miles long. the camp was called atchison, and a day and one-half were spent there in making arrangements for a vigorous pursuit of the indians. companies c and g of the sixth were stationed there as a part of the garrison, and five of the company were left behind there, viz.: seidel, eberdt, and jakobi, as members of the band, and kraemer and reuter, who were too sick to travel. [ ] this camp was located on the w. / of the n.w. / of section , and the e. / of the n.e. / of section , township north, of range west, on the northeast side of what is now known as lake sibley, and about miles in a direct line to the northwest of cooperstown, griggs county, north dakota.--t. h. l. on the th, all the arrangements having been completed, the expedition began a more rapid advance in pursuit of the enemy, and on the th of july, miles from camp atchison was fought the battle of "big hills" or "big mound." as soon as it was known that the indians were in force, the train was corralled on the margin of a small lake, big mound being directly to the eastward and distant about one and one-quarter miles. the sixth regiment with one company of mounted rangers and a section of artillery occupied the east front, and threw up a line of earthworks for protection. as soon as the attack began, colonel crooks at once deployed companies e, i, and k of the sixth and a of the ninth, under major mclaren, as skirmishers, and they pursued the indians two and one-half miles. three companies of the sixth were also deployed on the left flank, and the indians were repulsed at that point. major mclaren with companies a, b, d, i, and k advanced four miles at a double-quick, having been ordered to support the troops already at the front, but on their arrival they were ordered to return to camp. on the th the expedition moved only about five miles to a better camping place and remained there on account of the jaded horses. on the th, with the sixth regiment in advance, the march was resumed. on arriving at dead buffalo lake, some miles from the last camp, the indians again appeared in force and commenced an attack. colonel crooks immediately deployed a part of the sixth, including company e, as skirmishers, under lieutenant colonel averill, and they advanced steadily, driving the enemy as they went; the remainder of the regiment under major mclaren being held in reserve. after an advance of about one and one-half miles major mclaren with five companies of the sixth was ordered to return to the camp at the lake, three companies remaining at the front. desultory firing was kept up until about p.m., when the indians made a final assault, which was repulsed in fine style by the troops under command of major mclaren. the indians, having been defeated at every point, now withdrew from the field. on the morning of the th the advance was again resumed, and in the afternoon a camp was formed on stony lake. on the th, as the troops were forming in column, the indians again appeared and made their last charge. about one mile beyond the lake the sixth regiment was deployed to skirmish on the right of the train, and they repelled the attack of the indians who threatened it. the firing continued for a time, the indians finally making a rapid retreat in the face of the advancing expedition. the pursuit was continued until apple river was reached, where a camp was formed for the night. on the th the army crossed apple river, continuing the pursuit, and in the afternoon the missouri river was reached, the regiment, under the immediate command of colonel crooks, skirmishing nearly two miles through the woods to it. the indians having crossed to the west bank and hoisted white flags, the battery which had been advanced, and was in good position for shelling, was moved away, as the policy seemed to be to kill indians only when they made an attack. many of the skirmishers ventured to the river bank and began filling their canteens, when suddenly the enemy fired at them from the other side and the men were forced back, but not without sending a volley in return. a camp was formed on the banks of the missouri river near the mouth of apple river. the point on the river struck was in about ° ´ north latitude, miles from fort snelling by the route followed, miles above the mouth of apple river, and miles from the big mound. on the th colonel crooks with companies a, i, and k and details of men from other regiments, proceeded to the indian crossing, and destroyed all the wagons and such other property as would be of service to the indians, and then returned to camp. the return march began on the nd of august. the th and th of the month were spent in camp. passed to the southward of the outward journey, shortening the route some thirty miles, and arrived at camp atchison on the th. rested on the th. reached sheyenne river on the th, and camped three miles beyond it. at this last place the nightly entrenching, commenced on departure from camp pope, was abandoned, the impulse of discontinuance coming from company e. it had been the custom, both in the campaign of and this, to throw up every evening light exterior mounds and ditches for defense, a work necessarily irksome and unpopular with men fatigued with hard marching, and in the presence of an enemy (and some times not) they neither respected nor feared. the traces of these works, slight as they were, will be visible for years, and if properly noted by the surveyors of the public lands as the surveys extend westward, and by future pacific railroad parties, will furnish means for exactly determining the routes of the two expeditions; certainly as regards that of , which lay through trackless wastes, over which not even an odometer passed with this expedition. it is to be regretted that the commanding officer of the expedition, lavish as were the expenses attending it, thought fit to negative a proposition made to form a quasi-topographical force for its use. such a proposition would have involved no other expense than that of a few simple instruments for the use of the surveyor and his assistants (enlisted men) who might be detailed, and their labors would have furnished valuable material for the maps which were afterwards ordered to be constructed, besides contributing to the interests of geographical science in general. the th and th of august were spent in camp. reached fort abercrombie on the st and camped on the west side of it; distance from camp atchison about miles. remained at the fort three days. here klinghammer rejoined. resumed march on the th. spent the th in camp. arrived at sauk centre on the nd of september, and remained there all the next day. here rehse was left behind, sick. at this place the expeditionary forces were divided, the sixth regiment being ordered to fort snelling. we left sauk centre on the th; and spent the next day in camp. the route was by the way of st. joseph, st. cloud, and anoka, and the neighborhood of the fort was reached on the th; the return route from apple river being about miles. john and scher rejoined on arrival at the fort, and seidel, eberdt, and jakobi were relieved, the band being temporarily suspended. corporal eheim was sent to the hospital on the th. companies a, c, e, f, g, and h, being ordered to fort ridgley, left together on september th, going by the way of bloomington, shakopee, jordan, belle plaine, and le sueur. at the latter place gantner rejoined on the nd. passed through traverse, and came to fort ridgley on the th. detert was now relieved. here the destinations of the companies ordered to guard the southwestern frontier of the state were announced. of company e the main body (or two-thirds) was to proceed to the station at lake hanska in brown county ( miles off) and the remainder to the post of cottonwood ( miles), to relieve the troops there in garrison. accordingly on the th the movement took place, the smaller force reaching its assigned position the same day, the main body taking two days for its journey. while at lake hanska, sergeant bell left for st. paul, where, on the th of november, he was commissioned second lieutenant of the company. company e, having been designated (in lieu of company f) as part of the escort to the train fitting out to convey provisions to the indian bands removed from minnesota to crow creek agency or fort thompson on the missouri river, was ordered to rendezvous at new ulm, which was done on the th of october by both the detachments. the smaller one had left big cottonwood on the th under orders to garrison buffalo creek station ( miles northeast of the fort), but immediately on reaching that place received the counter order. by the promotion of sergeant bell to the second lieutenancy, sergeant huhn became first or orderly sergeant, according to company order of the st of november. left new ulm on the rd of the month, and reached mankato, miles distant, the assembling point of the train and escort, the next day. eberdt and jakobi left on the th to report at fort ridgley, and lieutenant holl for st. paul. seidel and sproesser left, on the th, for fort ridgley, corporal steifel was sent there sick, and radke was sent to the hospital at mankato on the same day. the expedition, with captain j. c. whitney in command, started on the th. the escort consisted of companies d, e, and h, of the sixth regiment. the th, th, and th were spent in camp, also the th at leavenworth, where the nuts were taken off the wagons (said to have been done by the men of company d who felt themselves aggrieved). sergeant siebert, sick, left for st. peter on the th, and bast on furlough; from which, falling sick, he did not return at the appointed time. reached des moines river, near the outlet of lake shetek, on the th, and there remained in camp all the next day. here lieutenant holl rejoined and commenced to act as first lieutenant, having been commissioned as such november th; the present strength of the company was now , and aggregate . g. paulson accompanied the expedition, but is not reckoned in this number, as he was on detached service at the headquarters of the expedition. the route of the train was a few miles to the northward of the red pipe stone quarry, and the big sioux river was reached and crossed-- miles from lake shetek--on the rd. crossed the james river, miles from the big sioux, on the th. arrived at fort thompson, miles further, on the nd of december, and remained there three days. this fort is a stockaded inclosure about feet square, built to include and protect the agency and barracks; it is miles, by river road, above fort randall, two miles from the missouri, and about a mile from crow creek. on the th left the fort for return. remained in camp on the th, twelve miles below yankton; corporal leitner was promoted fifth sergeant, and privates juergens, gaheen, and hoscheid appointed to fill the vacant offices of sixth, seventh, and eighth corporal. the th was also spent in camp on account of a terrible snowstorm. reached the neighborhood of sioux city, iowa, on the th, camping two and one-half miles northwest of it. on the st the troops again moved; traveling by the way of melbourne, cherokee, peterson's, spirit lake, and estherville, iowa, they came to fairmont, minnesota, on the th. remained in camp the next two days. passed through winnebago city and arrived at mankato on the rd of january, , when company d left for the north. this journey of about miles-- outward from, and return to, mankato--was accomplished in fifty-four days; and because of the rigor of the northwestern winter, and much of it through a pathless country,--the command sleeping in tents on the snow-covered ground,--the men called it the "moscow journey." the mercury at times stood ° below zero, and never was above the freezing point. companies e and h returned by way of new ulm to fort ridgley, miles, on the th and th of january, having marched since leaving the former place in november about miles. the only company of the sixth regiment at the fort at this time was a. company e was assigned quarters in the stone barracks, on north side. the duties were not heavy and the time passed comfortably enough for soldiers. musicians seidel, eberdt, jakobi, and sproesser now rejoined, but not for duty, being detailed in the band; also sergeant steifel and george paulson. sergeant siebert rejoined on the th. sergeant huhn was detached as acting post hospital steward on the th, being afterwards discharged--on the th of february--to enlist in the same capacity in the regular army. henry steck, enlisted as private in the regiment on the rd of february and assigned to the company, joined for duty march th,--native country of recruit, wurtemberg. bast rejoined on the th, and radke about the th. captain schoenemann left for st. paul april th, and lieutenant holl assumed command of the company. on the th sergeant siebert was promoted to first sergeant and corporal stiefel to fifth sergeant, and privates radke and gabbert appointed seventh and eighth corporals, respectively; but the latter scarcely ever acted as such and was reduced to the ranks, at his own request, on the th of the following month. george paulson was detailed in the regimental band on the th of may. at the beginning of may a detail of about a dozen men of the company, under sergeant huth and corporal radke, were sent from fort ridgley to milford-- miles--to relieve the cavalry at that post. on the th corporal smith replaced corporal radke there. this detachment returned at the end of the month. while there the woods of the big cottonwood and in the neighborhood of milford were thoroughly scouted, both by parties from company e and from company g (posted at fort wilkin and madelia), but by the former traces only of the indians were found. the sixth regiment being ordered to rendezvous at fort snelling, to prepare for their departure to the south, in accordance with the order of the war department of the th of may requiring it to report at helena, arkansas, companies a, e, and h left fort ridgley on the nd of june. the only member of the company left behind there was f. henricks, sick in hospital. traveled by the way of henderson, belle plaine, and shakopee, and arrived at fort snelling on the th, and went into camp about a mile above the fort--camp crooks. between the th and th the following recruits joined the company for duty as privates, viz.: edward bryan, a native of ireland, enlisted november th, ; henry wetterau, native of wisconsin, enlisted february th, ; peter holtzmer, native of luxemburg, enlisted february th; joseph rachel, enlisted february th; michael knopf, native of new york, enlisted february th; charles foglesang, native of baden, and william hildebrandt, native of hanover, enlisted february th; mathias frank, native of luxemburg, enlisted february th; stephen iwan, and francz troska, natives of prussian poland, enlisted february th; john lieber, native of nassau, enlisted june th,--and all were enlisted for three years. of these bryan had been enlisted for the company at st. paul, but having been at once placed on detached service did not join his command till this time (the th); with him, from the same duty--herding mules at glencoe--returned rehse. corporal gaheen was detailed in the regimental color guard on the th; and on the th captain schoenemann resumed command, and burch rejoined. the sum of the distance traveled by the company from its organization to this time was over , miles. part . services at helena, st. louis, and new orleans-- - . on the th of june, , the whole regiment left fort snelling, marched to st. paul, and embarked on the steamboats enterprise and hudson, each having two barges in tow for additional accommodation of the men. arrived at dunleith, illinois, on the th and took the cars to cairo, which point was reached on the th. here wagoner henricks, sick, was left in the hospital. embarked on the steamer empress at midnight, and arrived at helena, arkansas, and landed there, on the rd. by changes in commissions occurring during the spring, the company had now become the third in rank and in regimental position the fifth from the right, with company a in front and company i in the rear or left. its strength at the time of the arrival was, present , aggregate ; the absentees being lieutenant bell and a. j. hill on detached service, the two henricks and schauer sick, and scheer, iwan, and troska left behind at st. paul. the regiment at once went into camp, on the bank of the river, one-half mile above the town. shelter tents were issued now for the first time. the camp was called camp buford, and was the last one that was officially named. troska and iwan rejoined on the th, and also the next day a. j. hill from detached service at washington. detert and scheibel were detailed as regimental pioneers on the th and a. j. hill as company clerk in the beginning of july. from the beginning there was a close guard kept around the limited area occupied by the regiment, and it was maintained several weeks. the duty required by the district commandant was chiefly prison and picket guard. in the first week of july orders were issued to build quarters, and fatigue parties were at once set to work cutting, hauling, and sawing logs for that purpose. wagoner henricks rejoined on the th. companies e and f being detailed to proceed to certain points with a view of obtaining information of the movements of the enemy, the major part embarked, with forty men of the fifteenth illinois cavalry, on the evening of the th, on the steamboat dove, and proceeded up the mississippi river, reaching buck island (no. ) on the next day, and searched it as ordered. returned to the levee at helena the same night, and lay there. next day, the th, went up the st. francis river, some thirty-five miles, to alligator bayou, then returned to helena and into camp again. the mississippi river part of this trip was under command of captain schoenemann, and the other under that of the major of cavalry. no guerrillas or other enemies were seen. the infantry forces did not land, but the cavalry did and scouted between the two rivers. kilian was detached as nurse in the regimental hospital on the st. lieutenant bell returned on the nd, and with him scheer. on the th of july the regiment went out about two miles beyond the picket lines on the little rock road to cover the retreat of some colored troops and cavalry who had been very severely handled that morning at a creek some few miles west of town. on the st of august it went out again on the same road as before, but not quite so far, and remained on picket in the woods on the right of the road during the night, returning to camp the next morning. it was understood that a projected attack by the enemy on the defences of the town was the cause of this movement. nothing of the kind, however, took place. the heat was now intense, and the sickness increased with alarming rapidity. the building of quarters was given up or postponed, and the houses, more or less finished, occupied as well as they could be. company e managed to complete--walls and roof--one of the four prescribed barracks, but, being destitute of chinking, in a rainstorm it afforded but poor shelter. being composed of log and frame houses, board and canvas shanties, the camp of the sixth regiment presented, by autumn, a melancholy variety indeed. bast was detached for provost duty in helena on the th; on the th schafer was detached for provost duty, and praxl as nurse in the post hospital on the th. j. j. mueller was detached as cook in the regimental hospital (now in town) on the th. the following men of the company died while at helena, viz.: jean rossion on july th; joseph rachel, july th; louis wetterau, august th; frederick schoenheiter on the th, michael boos on the th; august willialms on the rd, and henry reuter on the th. the latter was the last of the company that died at helena; all seven dying of disease. they were buried with the rest of the regimental dead on the summit of a rising ground about one-half mile northwest of the camp. properly marked boards were placed at their graves. in september the sick men had become so numerous that large numbers were sent north. of company e there went as follows: on the st of the month, bristle was sent to the hospital at memphis; corporal hoscheid, wagoner henricks, foglesang, metz, mueckenhausen, rehse, thiele, and h. wetterau, sick, were sent to the hospital at jefferson barracks, mo., on the rd; sergeants leitner and stiefel, corporals neierburg, juergens, and radke, and ferlein, gabbert, hauck, holtzmer, john, kilian, kraemer, krueger, m. mueller, munson, schene, steck, and temme, sick, were also sent to jefferson barracks hospital, on the th. f. henricks rejoined on the st, and on the same day sergeant rohde was relieved. at about this time the once strong sixth regiment had become the shadow of its former self, and added little to the effective strength of the garrison of the post. it was pitiable to look at the companies as they marched to dress parade; very often having but half a dozen men in line. gantner was relieved on the th; and bast rejoined on the st of october. the same day the following recruits, who had enlisted as privates for one year in the regiment, joined the company, and were two days afterwards assigned to it by regimental order, viz.: william s. adams, native of minnesota, enlisted august th; henry churchill, native of vermont, enlisted august th; george r. bell, native of ohio, and nelson a. chandler, a native of new york, enlisted september th; melchior steinmann, a native of switzerland, enlisted september th. all of the above but adams (a sioux of mixed blood) were young boys, and incapable of full military duty. on the th, details of men commenced to build barracks on selected regimental grounds located in town, opposite to the church used as a soldiers' home. no order had been received to go into regular winter quarters, but the necessities of the case required this course. george bell was detailed as orderly at regimental headquarters on the st. sergeant stiefel, and foglesang and schene rejoined on the nd. the removal of the company to the log quarters on the east side of the above-named ground took place on the th. company e was now shifted to the extreme left of the regiment, becoming the tenth from the right wing and the second in rank. company i was on the immediate right of it. an order from new orleans requiring the regiment to report at st. louis was received and read on the rd of november and preparations made at once to comply with the same. detert, scheibel, kernen, and j. j. mueller were relieved the same day and schafer rejoined; also burch and praxl (the latter rejoined on the nd) were detached for provost duty in helena. the two latter, with churchill, sick, were all of the company left behind there. on the th, the twenty-third wisconsin having arrived to relieve it, the sixth minnesota embarked on the steamboat thomas e. tutt, truly glad to leave a place so associated with disease, suffering, and death. the number of the company now on the boat was , out of an aggregate of . while lying at memphis, on the th, bristle, wagoner henricks, and ferlein rejoined. arrived at st. louis on the evening of the th, after a tedious voyage. next morning the regiment disembarked and marched through the city. six companies were quartered at winter street barracks, e being among them. at this time the military post of st. louis was under the enlightened command of colonel james h. baker of the tenth minnesota, whose regulations for the government of troops stationed there were liberal and just, and an admirable model for the imitation of officers having volunteer soldiers of the republic under their control. the sojourn in this city would have been generally very pleasant had it not been for the incessant duty, which, consisting almost exclusively of prison guard, was severe, just half of the men's time being taken up by it. the weather, too, was very cold for outside posts of sentinels. j. j. mueller was detailed as orderly at company headquarters on the th, kernen detached as cook in the regimental hospital on the th, and steinmann detailed as company drummer on the nd. the absent members now began rapidly to return. m. mueckenhausen rejoined on the th. sergeant leitner on the st, burch, praxl, corporal radke, and kilian, kraemer, and temme on the th, churchill on the th, m. mueller on the th, and krueger on the th. eberdt was relieved on the th. lieutenant bell was dismissed from service by order of the department commander on the th. knopf left on furlough december th, but sickness prevented him from returning at its expiration. the companies in winter street barracks moved into schofield barracks no. on the th of december; e being quartered in the northern quadrangle. corporal gaheen was relieved on the th, and sergeant leitner detached as keeper at gratiot street military prison on the th. metz rejoined on the th, and holtzmer on the th. lieutenant bell, having been restored to command by order of the president of january rd, , rejoined on the th. kernen rejoined on the th. to fill vacancies occasioned by the death of neierburg and reduction of gabbert, bast and beckendorf were appointed seventh and eighth corporals on the th, and confirmed as such on the th. having been ordered to report at new orleans, la., the regiment left st. louis on the th of january, and traveled by rail to cairo, where it was put on board the steamboat w. r. arthur, which left the next evening. the boat then had on board over , souls in all. reached new orleans the th of february, and marched to quarters in louisiana cotton press no. , used as a camp of distribution. lieutenant holl was detailed as assistant regimental quartermaster, and corporal gaheen again on color guard, on the th. the northern soldiers found much to amuse and instruct them when they arrived at this southwestern satrapy, for such--from its isolated position, its semi-tropical products, its swarthy and varied population, strange tongues, manners, and customs, and from its form of government--the military division of west mississippi might well be termed. they, however, soon discovered the difference between new orleans and st. louis. the former was under the strictest rule of a martinet of the regular army. the accidental absence of a pass, even in daytime, or the slightest divergence from the prescribed dress, whether occurring on or off duty, rendered enlisted men subject to ruthless fine or imprisonment, and the other offending articles to confiscation by the provost marshal. no duty was called for till the th, when, for two days, fatigue parties were set to work on the military railroad on st. joseph street. on the th details for miscellaneous guard duty were furnished. corporal hoscheid and john rejoined on the th. musician chandler was transferred to company b on the th, there being more than the regular number of musicians in company e. wagoner henricks was detailed in regimental quartermaster's depot on the th. on the th the regiment moved into the barracks formerly terrill's cotton press, opposite the southeast corner of annunciation square, just vacated by the seventh vermont. sergeant rohde was detailed as sergeant of police on the th. eberdt and gropel were detached to guard stores on steamboats, under command of an ordnance officer, on the th. stengelin, sick, was sent to the general hospital on the th. towards the end of the month the regiment received orders to repair to chalmette, and to report to the sixteenth army corps, to which it had been assigned, as soon as relieved by a certain colored regiment. on the rd of march, having been relieved, the regiment moved into the square immediately opposite, where, having a few days previously been supplied with shelter tents, a camp was established. j. j. mueller was relieved on the th. the strength of the company was now as follows: present, ; absent, ,--aggregate . by this time it was authoritatively known that the sixth regiment belonged to the second brigade of the second division, sixteenth army corps, major general a. j. smith commanding. part . services in alabama; and conclusion-- . the regiment left new orleans on the th of march and proceeded along the river six miles to the plain of chalmette, where at a point a little below the old battlefield, and exactly opposite the present rebel earthworks, it embarked on the small ocean steamship cromwell. lieutenant holl and wagoner henricks did not go along with the company. this was a wretched voyage. the men were packed as closely as negroes on a slave-ship; the majority being unable to get more than sitting room, and no chance to lie at full length for sleep. in the afternoon of the th the troops were landed at fort gaines, alabama, whence they marched to a camping ground on the south shore of the island (dauphin) about two miles west of the fort. mahle was detached to serve on brigade provost guard by order issued on the th; knopf and stengelin rejoined on the th; and scheibel was detached to serve in the division pioneer company, by order issued on the th. while at dauphin island the system of company cooking was abandoned, and that of distributing to each man his proportion of the rations, for disposal at will, adopted instead. company cooks, consequently, were no longer required. broke camp on the th, and embarked at fort gaines on a gunboat (tin clad). lay all night in navy cove near fort morgan. next day the fleet crossed to fish river and ascended it several miles to dalney's mill landing, on the west side, where the force disembarked and went into camp, the second brigade being about a mile from the river on the south side of a small but rapid creek. while at this place breastworks were commenced to the west, but soon discontinued. lieutenant holl and wagoner henricks rejoined on the st, the former having been relieved by the return of the regimental quartermaster. on the th the forward march of the troops began, and eight miles were made. the next day the second brigade was in front and the sixth minnesota was detailed for skirmishing, company e being employed to cover the left flank of the brigade while marching. the enemy's skirmishers hovered in front the whole time and an incessant fusillade was kept up. by noon the creek on which cyrus sibley's house and mills were was reached and crossed, and at about a mile beyond the company was halted, and remained, with some other companies, on picket there the whole night. the enemy's pickets and ours were often in view of each other and exchanged many shots. next morning, the th, the rest of the regiment moved up and camped there; and breastworks were thrown up and a battery stationed on the right flank. on the th the regiment fell back; to the south side of the creek, where the camp of the second division was entrenched, immediately opposite sibley's house. here there was very little to do or see, but time enough to listen to the almost continuous cannonading at the spanish fort, which however soon ceased to be an object of remark except when, occasionally, the rush of the enormous shells from the rebel gunboats drew every one's attention. a reconnoissance on the blakely road, to a point three miles out, was made on the nd of april by the brigade. near the place of return two torpedoes were exploded by the feet of the horses at the head of the column. on the same day klinghammer, who had been arrested on dauphin island, for very insubordinate conduct, and subsequently tried by court-martial, found guilty, and sentenced to one year's hard labor at a military prison, was turned over to the provost marshal, and the company saw him no more. on the rd the division broke camp and moved, by the way of origen sibley's mills, to the front, near blakely, on the tensas river, about twelve miles from mobile, taking position on the left of the thirteenth corps, which had appeared before the enemy's defenses there a few days previously. about a mile and a half to the eastward of the rebel works immediately defending the town are some private graves among the pine trees, apparently the commencement of a cemetery, but without fencing or other general improvements. the tomb of one of general marion's men, godbold, is there; and, immediately to the north of it a couple of rods, a local family, the wilkinsons, have a little plot of land, about fifteen paces square, surrounded by a low brick wall. here, shortly before sunset on the rd of april, the brigade encamped, the sixth minnesota being a couple of hundred paces distant from the brick graveyard, to the east and southeast of it. the troops were told to pitch no tents, light no fires, but lie on their arms, keep as quiet as possible, and await further orders. it was rumored that the enemy's works were to be stormed that night, but we were not disturbed. the musicians, however, were called out and held subject to the surgeon's orders. next day, the th, tents were pitched and the usual camp arrangements recommenced, except that all calls were discontinued lest the sound of the bugles and drums should reach the enemy's ears and guide them in shelling our camp. while here a large detail was furnished every day by the regiment for duty in the trenches and on the skirmish line. before sunrise each morning the soldiers filed off through the gloomy ravines to their posts in the trenches and pits of the advance, some half a mile away, there to lie and exchange shots with the enemy, and subject to their shells, till relieved. fortunately during the week spent in this camp not a man of the company was injured, and it is understood that but two casualties (slight wounds) occurred in the regiment the whole time the siege of blakely lasted. on two or three occasions shells reached the brigade camp, one of which cut off a thick pine near to godbold's grave, but did not injure either living or dead. these shots were provoked by men climbing the tall pine trees to get sight of the enemy's works. the bombardment of the spanish fort on the evening of the th was very plainly heard. it lasted from : o'clock to , and the reports averaged about thirty a minute, by count. in the afternoon of the next day tents were struck and the regiment left camp, knapsacks packed, at o'clock, and moved silently through the woods to the line of trenches used by the reserve of the picket guard, and there, knapsacks being unslung and with other impediments piled together, the men were stationed to await orders. immediately to the right of the sixth was a battery and beyond that another regiment, also posted in reserve; and on the left there was nothing. from this position to the enemy's redoubts it was about half a mile in a direct course westward, and from the advanced skirmish line to the same works some yards. about : p.m. the various batteries of the union forces opened fire upon the enemy's lines, but their guns did not reply for about ten minutes, when the cannonading became brisk on both sides, lasting until minutes to ; the battery near the regiment sharing in it. now it ceased suddenly on our side, and in its place were heard the ringing cheers of the soldiers as they rose, in full view of the reserves, from their trenches in the front and rushed towards the confederate fortifications. by o'clock the noise of the cannon had ceased and a white flag was visible, which told of the enemy's surrender; and shortly the stars and stripes superseded it. thus, on the evening of the th of april, , took place the battle of blakely, which, like that of new orleans in , was fought after the necessity for it had passed away. the regiment returned to the original camp for the night. next morning if crossed the battle grounds and encamped immediately within the former hostile earthworks, about a quarter of a mile from the village, but remained there only two days, returning on the th to the neighborhood of the cemetery. here ferlein, unable to march, was left behind. without the men having any idea as to where they were going, the line of march was taken up on the morning of the th of april, but a few hours proved that it was neither to mobile nor to pensacola, but to the north, showing that the sixteenth corps was on one of its characteristic marches again. the strength of the company was now: present, ; aggregate, . for over sixty miles the route lay through pine forests, with very few clearings; and the villages then successively passed were burnt corn, midway, activity, greenville, and sandy ridge. no enemy was seen, but, on the contrary, when the settled country was reached, every house displayed a white flag or cloth, generally with the words "the union forever" on it. on the th, a few miles south of midway, the official news of the surrender of lee's army overtook the expedition; and at camp on the th the rumor of mr. lincoln's death, not at first believed, met it. for thirteen days, to the th, the troops marched each day, arriving then at a stream five miles south of montgomery, having traveled a distance of miles, from the cemetery near blakely. the th was spent in camp, to rest and wash. on the th the troops moved through the city,--the cradle of the rebel government,--and encamped beyond it. the camp of the brigade was just beyond a swamp on the river road, about two miles northeastward of the city. from the th to the th, as the transports had not arrived, the soldiers were supplied by foraging parties with cornmeal, supplies of fresh beef, and a little bacon. f. henricks and knopf, sick, were sent to the hospital in the city, may nd. ferlein rejoined on the th. on the th of may the regimental camp was moved about a mile further from the river, nearly to the wetumka road, to get higher ground and purer water. sergeant leitner rejoined on the nd. lieutenant holl left on sick furlough on the th. eberdt and gropel rejoined on the th, the former being detailed in the band on the th. on the st sergeant steifel was honorably discharged for disability contracted while in the service. the same day a review of the second division took place. private ferlein was honorably discharged on the st of june, his term of service having expired. on the same day mahle and scheibel rejoined, and huth was sent to the hospital. on the th soft bread was issued for the first time in three months. jakobi was sent to the hospital in town on the th. sergeant huth (in hospital) and privates gantner and parks were honorably discharged on the th, their terms of service having expired. on the th krueger was sent to the division hospital in town. the same day schermann died of disease. he was buried near the second mile-post on the wetumka road. on the th corporals sauer and joseph smith were promoted fourth and fifth sergeants, respectively, and j. mueller and blesius seventh and eighth corporals,--to take effect on the th of june. knopf rejoined july st. private jakobi was honorably discharged on the th for disability contracted while in the service; and on the same day the regiment acted as guard at a military execution. private schene died of disease on the th, and was buried in the city cemetery. musician seidel was honorably discharged on the th, his term of service having expired. he was the last man discharged previous to the general mustering out. on the th the men whose terms of service did not expire before the st of october were transferred to and ordered to join the fifth regiment; those from company e being as follows: bryan, foglesang, frank, hildebrandt, holtzmer, iwan, knopf, lieber, and troska. while at montgomery, by change of captains in company d, company e became the first in rank, its appropriate position in regimental line being the first on the right flank, with company i on the left. after much weary waiting the regiment at last received orders to proceed to vicksburg, to be mustered out, and, joyfully striking tents for the last time, on the th embarked on the steamer coquette for selma, which place was reached next morning. here, instead of proceeding at once, the regiment remained three days by reason of change of opinions in regard to the recruits just transferred. the order transferring them was revoked, and they were returned to their companies to be mustered out with the main body. the strength of company e was now as follows: present, ; absent, ,--aggregate, . on the th, left selma by railroad. reached demopolis in the afternoon, and descended the river there, on a steamboat, four miles to the continuation of the railroad on the west bank, which place was known as mcdowell's landing. here camped for the night. the next day arrived at meridian, mississippi, and lay there over night, and on the day after, the nd, arrived at pearl river opposite jackson. owing to the destruction of the bridge over this stream, and that of the big black, there was a gap of over thirty miles in the railroad communication, which had to be traversed the best way possible. most of the men walked, having hired teams for their things. by the th nearly all of the regiment had rendezvoused on the west side of the big black river, near the railroad. the next day took cars for vicksburg. the regiment was now, it seems, ordered to report at st. louis, and accordingly, on the evening of the th, embarked at vicksburg on the steamboat missouri for that place. having arrived at st. louis on the st, it received orders to proceed to fort snelling, and on the st of august started on the steamboat brilliant for st. paul. private w. smith was found dead in his place on the deck on the morning of august rd, and his body was left at burlington, iowa, for interment. on the th arrived at st. paul, where a most cordial reception by the citizens was experienced, and after being entertained at the capitol, re-embarked and went to fort snelling. here lieutenant holl, and f. henricks, krueger, schauer, simon, and some others who had remained at jackson, rejoined. the company was mustered out, with the rest of the regiment, on the th of august, at the fort. of the original members there were now discharged , who had served their full three years. their names were as follows, viz.: bast, beckendorf, j. b. bell, besecke, blesius, blessner, bristle, burch, detert, eberdt, gaheen, goldner, gropel, hahn, f. henricks, h. henricks, a. j. hill, holl; hoscheid, john, kernen, kilian, kraemer, krueger, leitner; mahle; martin, metz, m. mueckenhausen, j. j. mueller, m. mueller, g. paulson, praxl, radke, reimers, rohde, sauer, schafer, scheer, scheibel, schoenemann, siebert, simon, j. smith, sproesser, stengelin, and temme, the recruits discharged numbered , and were: g. bell, bryan, churchill, foglesang, frank, hildebrandt, holtzmer, iwan, knopf, lieber, steinmann, and troska. * * * * * although the foregoing pages are but a history of one company of the sixth regiment, yet in general the account of its movements applies generally to all. the lot of this regiment, as an organization, was somewhat peculiar, and, in respect to military glory, unfortunate. it boasts of no hard won victories, laments no disheartening defeats, but it did faithfully its assigned duty; and, in so doing, deserved well of the republic. part . tables and statistics. composition of original company. _nationality_: men were of german blood, born in north america; of american (u.s.); of scandinavian; of french; of magyar; and of british. _religions_: proportion of lutheran and methodist, per cent.; roman catholic, per cent.; rationalistic, per cent.; and per cent. were unclassified. _occupations_: proportion of farmers, per cent.; mechanics, per cent.; professional men, per cent.; and miscellaneous and unknown, per cent. statistics of disease. previous to the summer of the health of the regiment had always been very good. at the time of the departure for the south the proportion of sick in the whole company was under per cent., the cases being mostly of a trivial nature. the following table, compiled from the monthly returns, will show how rapidly the ratio increased during the sojourn at helena: whole number aggregate percentage day. of sick. of company. of sick. ------------------------------------------------------- june july august september october the "daily" and "extra" duty men would swell the last column somewhat if their health had been generally reported, but it is not customary to enter their names in the "sick" book. every man of the company was sick at one time or another while in the south. the poor economy of sending the regiment to helena immediately from a northern climate at the commencement of the summer, and keeping it there so long, is plainly seen in the following calculation (and other companies showed a similar state of things to company e): if we take the sum of the "aggregates" of the morning reports during each month the product is the maximum number of days' service the government can expect for that period, but which, however, it really never gets. by similarly adding together the columns of "sick" we have a figure representing loss of service, and which should be within reasonable limits. while in minnesota this loss never amounted to per cent. of the whole service due, and generally fluctuated between and . in a space of time equal to and immediately preceding the time spent at helena,--nineteen weeks,--it was as low as per cent.; while there it was ; and for the same length of time immediately after leaving helena, it was . in march, , it was ; in april, ; in may, ; and in june, . as no morning reports were made after the middle of july, the figures for the remainder of the term of service cannot be obtained, but undoubtedly they would result in at least per cent. the number of deaths occurring while in helena, and traceable to disease contracted while at that point and montgomery, is , equal to per cent., or nearly one-sixth of the whole company. numerical summaries. members. resigned, ; transferred, ; discharged previous to expiration of service, ; died, ; deserted, ; missing, ; mustered out at expiration of service in june and july, , ; mustered out in corpore august th, , ; in military prison and unknown, . total number of members, . occupation of time. en route, on campaigns and expeditions, days. en route, changing stations, days. stationary, at posts and barracks, days. stationary in camp, days. total, or entire term of service, years. distances traveled, approximately. on foot, , miles; in wagons, miles; by steamboat, , miles; by railroad, miles. total, , miles. limits and extent of country traversed. _latitude_: from ° ', at lake jessie, d. t., approximate position, to °, at the mouth of the mississippi; being ° ' difference, equal to , statute miles, measured on a meridian line. _longitude_: from ° ', at montgomery, ala., to ° ', at the mouth of apple river, d. t., approximate position; being ° ' difference, equal to statute miles on the line of middle latitude. _greatest included right line_: from lake jessie, d. t., approximate position, to the mouth of the mississippi; course s. ° e., distance , miles. an air line drawn from montgomery, alabama, the last station, to st. paul, minnesota, would be miles in length, course n.n.w. the water route to the latter place, via mississippi sound and new orleans, is about , miles; while that actually traveled, via vicksburg, is about , miles. appendix. lieut. col. marshall's raid into dakota-- .[ ] by capt. charles j. stees. after the memorable release of the captives at camp release, the scouts were very diligent in searching out and locating the numerous small bands of hostile indians who were scattered through the country to the north and west of the camp. upon learning that there were several lodges of indians to the westward in the vicinity of wild goose nest lake, general sibley, under date of october th, , directed lieutenant colonel marshall of the seventh regiment to take command of an expedition detailed to capture any bands to be found along the upper lac qui parle valley, and, if necessary, to go as far as the western side of the coteaus, about miles distant. [ ] from the journal of charles j. stees, late captain of company g, sixth regiment, minnesota volunteer infantry, and formerly major of the fourth regiment, third brigade, first division, pennsylvania infantry. october th ( ). cold, windy day. company g was ordered to be ready to move at o'clock, midnight, with six days' rations. the men thought they were going below with the prisoners, but were disappointed on learning that we were off on an indian hunt. the expedition under lieutenant colonel marshall consisted of company g, of the sixth regiment, under command of captain valentine; men of the third regiment-- mounted--under lieutenant swan; company b, seventh regiment, captain curtis; a mountain howitzer with men under sergeant o'shea; major joseph r. brown and scouts (bell, quinn, and indians). left camp release at p.m. for the lac qui parle valley. it was very cold traveling, so much so that the water froze in our canteens. october th. we made a very rapid march during the night, and reached the lac qui parle river before daybreak, made a bridge, using the wagons for the purpose, and all crossed over. soon after passed a deserted bark village. the scouts reported that there were indians ahead with eight ox teams, but there was nothing to be seen but the sky and prairie. the indians, discovering that they were pursued, now fired the prairie in front of us with the evident intention of retarding our movements and to prevent our horses from having forage. the wind being high, it carried the burnt dirt and ashes along in clouds, flying into our eyes, and they became very painful and bloodshot. was appointed officer of the guard for the night, and, by using three reliefs of men each, dug six rifle-pits for the protection of the camp. october th. aroused the camp at o'clock, struck the tents, and was on the march by a.m. following up the lac qui parle, at o'clock we captured four prisoners,--an indian warrior, a half-breed boy, and two squaws. the half-breed was a son of roubillard, a frenchman who lived back of us in st. paul, in . i used to play with him. he speaks french, english, and sioux, and gave us much information about what we were after. a short distance beyond we crossed the state line into dakota territory. william wallace, e. j. van slyke, and i visited one of the line posts, which was marked, " miles from big stone lake" (located about miles north of gary, south dakota); and the other three sides were marked "minnesota," "dakota," and " ." wallace was on the survey and helped plant the post. in order to celebrate the event, each of us, with one foot in dakota and the other in minnesota, shook hands together. we were now in sight of re wakan or spirits hill (so named by the dakotas). although distant, the appearance of the coteau des prairies, as they loom up like a dark wall against the clear western sky, is very beautiful. halted in a hollow for a lunch. the scouts returned and reported indian lodges ahead, which made the men feel joyful at the prospect of a fight. marched three miles further and camped for the night in a beautiful dell at the headwaters of the lac qui parle. one wagon and six indians were brought in. of those captured up to this time, the young men were held as prisoners, and the squaws and children were given into the custody of the old men and ordered to report at camp release, and they faithfully followed the instructions. october th. during the night wolves were howling in the vicinity of the camp. left camp before daylight and commenced ascending the coteau des prairies, the highest table-land in this section of the united states, and full of lakes. a chain of twenty or more lakes could be seen from the highest point, which form the headwaters of the lac qui parle, yellow medicine, and whetstone rivers, on one side, and furnish many tributary streams to the big sioux on the west side,--many miles of land and bluffs, prairies, and lakes seeming as not ten miles distant. at various points we passed through fields of buffalo bones. arrived at "two lakes" (mde-nonpana), where the indians camped last night and left a sign indicating that they had moved to the westward two days previously. in order to overtake them, colonel marshall took the mounted men, howitzer, and the best teams, and pushed ahead, leaving the infantry and baggage train, under command of captain valentine, to follow on his trail and camp at the next creek for the night, with instructions to continue the forward movement if he did not return. instead of following instructions, captain valentine crossed the creek, and, ascending the next hill, perceived what appeared to be a beautiful lake a few miles distant; he continued the march, intending to camp there; so we marched and marched, but no lake appeared; the men, worn and fatigued, lagged behind, some straggling back for five miles, and curses, loud and deep, were heard on every hand,--the lake turned out to be a mirage, a sight not uncommon in this region. failing to arrive at the lake, we finally camped in the prairie grass, without wood or water; and, the rations being short, we went to sleep, supperless, after marching until o'clock at night. october th. the morning found us camped on the top of the coteaus with no sign of colonel marshall and his men. struck tents before daylight and were on the march without breakfast. at about two miles from the last camp we arrived at the big sioux river (here very narrow, with marshy banks), and halted for breakfast; but there was no feed for the horses. the men of the third regiment dealt out their last crackers, and company g had one ration of flour, sugar, and coffee. flour mixed with water and fried in fat was indeed and in truth a great luxury, of which even a white plumed knight might well be proud,--at this stage of the game. the expedition was now four days' march from camp release, and the provisions were all gone. the scouts returned and reported that they had seen "nothing of marshall or any other man." we again resumed the march, and at sundown arrived at hawk's nest lake. here we met quinn (the scout), and some mounted men, who brought the cheering news of the capture of indians, including warriors. on leaving the main body of the expedition, colonel marshall had moved forward as rapidly as possible, and soon after midnight on the th overtook and surrounded the indians, who, not anticipating such an event, were camped down and peacefully enjoying a good night's rest. the baying of their dogs was the first intimation that they had of the presence of the troops. the scouts informed them that they would not be harmed, and demanded their immediate surrender, which was complied with. a few of the younger men attempted to get away, but were overtaken and all made prisoners. by this capture much stolen property, in the way of goods, oxen, horses, and wagons, was recovered. only one white child was found among them. the prisoners (warriors) were brought in under guard, their weapons having been taken from them, and they were securely tied. among them was one chief, wa-ka-mo-no (wa-kan-mane), spirit walker, or walking spirit. at p.m. william quinn and two mounted men were dispatched to camp release to obtain a reinforcement to meet the expedition with provisions and forage. in honor of the successful termination of the pursuit and capture of the indians, colonel marshall changed the name of hawk's nest lake[ ] to captive lake. the lake is very long, winding, and deep, and was very high, trees standing in the water feet from the shore. very singularly it rises and falls without any apparent assistance from the rains or snows, as if it had a connection with some underground system of streams. [ ] this lake is probably the most eastern one of the two lakes now known as twin lakes, situated in township north, of range west, in coddington county, south dakota, as no other lake in this region corresponds with the description. its dakota name is chan-nonpa (two wood lake), and that of the western one is tizaptona (five lodge lake). "wild goose nest" (magaiticage) and "hawk's nest" (hecaoti) lakes are "on the minnesota coteaus," and not over thirty miles west of the state line.--t. h. l. october th. according to the estimates of the scouts and others we were about miles from camp release and miles from james river, or half way between the big sioux and the james. left captive lake bright and early, and halted on the big sioux for dinner, at the place where we breakfasted (?) the day previous. took coffee with the third regiment. at the request of major brown, we took his sister-in-law (a squaw by the name of sinte, the wife of captain james gorman of the renville rangers) into our wagon. in order to have a little fun as a side diversion, a race with our mules was commenced, the tailor george driving. his position was lubricous as he drove over the rough ground, shaking the squaw and the old man well. having gotten some distance ahead, we halted at a creek for target practice; and some good shots were made. homeward bound, as viewed from a high ridge, the appearance of our train was romantic and picturesque. the indian warriors with their mounted guard were in the advance, and then the infantry with their arms and bayonets shining brightly. the mounted men with their sharps rifles, contrasting with the springfields carried by company g; then comes the "little barker" (the mountain howitzer on wheels in a wagon), the gunners riding alongside; then our teams laden with camp equipage, tents, kettles, etc., the whole cavalcade ending with the indian camp following in true indian style. ponies loaded almost to the ground: cows, oxen and wagons the same; and squaws loaded as if their backs would break. a pretty squaw, with a snow-white blanket around her, is perched high on top of a big load on a little pony; then there are other ponies with papooses on their backs, followed by any quantity of dogs. a simple strap is thrown across the back of a pony, ox, or cow, supporting the ends of two poles, while the other ends drag on the ground; midway between the ends are perched the teepee skin, camp traps, etc., and on top of the whole are placed the children, who are riding as gaily as if they were on a honeymoon; a string of bells around the pony's neck, with the bellowing of the cattle, the bright blue sky above, the surrounding hills (some black with burnt grass, others green and waving), with the beautiful lakes contrasted,--combined to make it one of the strangest, wildest, and most beautiful and romantic pictures i ever witnessed. camped at sundown on a creek between two high hills, where a cow was shot,--a promise of fresh beef for to-morrow. sunday, october th. it was cold sleeping last night; water frozen in canteen; but the day was ushered in with the sun shining bright. breaking camp in the valley was a beautiful sight, as viewed from the top of the adjoining hill,--fires burning, tents taken down, mounted men starting off at a brisk trot. infantry looked lively and cheerful at the prospect of soon greeting their comrades at camp release, with their good success, prisoners, spoils, etc., they march straight up the hill, while the teams and "moccasin train" wind around the sides to make the ascent more easy. such a scene as here witnessed carries one back to the days when he read fancy sketches of such expeditions in novels. with a party of friends we were now in advance of the train, and during the day shot geese, brant, ducks and snipes. it was indeed a grand sight to see thousands of white brant flying between us and the burned and blackened hills. arrived at our old camp "hollow" at the head of the lac qui parle at p.m.,--one hour in advance of the train,--and took advantage of the occasion to cook and feast on some of our game. the train arrived, having in charge more prisoners, who had been out hunting, and, on returning and finding their band all gone, followed our trail and gave themselves up. october th. more indians joined us last night; they attempted to slip in past the guard, but were caught. struck tents at daylight and resumed the march, crossing the line into minnesota at a.m. met the relief train under quinn at a.m. after leaving captive lake, and at a point some miles distant, william quinn's horse gave out, and was abandoned. he walked all the rest of the way to camp release beside of the other horses, reaching there at o'clock saturday night (making good time). he took a short nap, started on the return trip sunday morning, and met the train as above stated. he brought the news of the capture of more lodges ( indians) near the lower lac qui parle by captain merriman and a detachment of the sixth regiment, who took them to camp release. at o'clock, noon, we arrived at the camping place first used on our outward trip. took dinner with the artillery. the prairie took fire from company g's cook-fire, making us skedaddle at a double-quick. the flames spread with fearful rapidity, causing consternation and alarm, and inducing the moccasin train to move at a lively gait. there was a feeling of real joy when all had reached burned ground. quinn now led us by a new route. the prairie was on fire all around us, and at one point we passed between two fires. the camp for the night was established on a beautiful spot near the bank of the lac qui parle river. was appointed officer of the guard. during the night there were indications of the prisoners trying to escape. c. j. sudheimer and peter molitor were placed as sentinels on the top of the edge of the plateau, near the camp. the wind was blowing at a or mile gait, so they finally took post on the more sheltered slope near the top. about p.m. an indian with a halter in his hand appeared and crossed the line some feet distant, when he was halted by sudheimer, who, finding that he was a prisoner trying to make his escape, promptly arrested him. i immediately doubled the guard and had all the prisoners (warriors) searched, which resulted in the finding of a pocket-knife, which was duly confiscated. the job of searching them was very disagreeable. ugh! what filth. this task being completed, they were securely tied, placed in a sibley tent, and a double guard stationed over them. visited the indian camp with george brown to see the sights. found them in their teepees spread out around the fire, which was located in the center. october st. broke camp before daybreak, and was on the march before sunrise. the day proved to be a horrible one, the wind blowing a perfect hurricane; the black dust of the burnt prairie filling and blinding our eyes, the lashes on which the dust accumulated creating a cutting, grinding pain, causing us to suffer much pain. being near our journey's end, we moved forward as fast as it was possible under the circumstances, and arrived at camp release at p.m., where we joined our comrades, who were very glad to see us. but our arrival did not improve matters so far as we were concerned, for the camp was a perfect wreck,--tents ripped up and chimneys blown down. there was not much news at the camp, the most important event during our absence having been the arrival of the sutler, on which occasion nearly all hands got tight, with the result that one colonel, six captains, and any quantity of lieutenants were put under arrest. with all our forced marches, cold nights, windy days, and fasting, the trip was a most successful one; for, besides those who voluntarily surrendered themselves, we captured men and women and children, not to mention the horses, cattle, wagons, and plunder, which were also brought in. the last of the chiefs a story of the great sioux war by joseph a. altsheler contents i--the train ii--king bison iii--the pass iv--treasure-trove v--the lost valley vi--castle howard vii--an animal progression viii--the trap makers ix--the timber wolves x--dick goes scouting xi--the terrible pursuit xii--the fight with nature xiii--albert's victory xiv--prisoners xv--the indian village xvi--the gathering of the sioux xvii--great sun dance xviii--the circle of death xix--a happy meeting xx--bright sun's good-by chapter i the train the boy in the third wagon was suffering from exhaustion. the days and days of walking over the rolling prairie, under a brassy sun, the hard food of the train, and the short hours of rest, had put too severe a trial upon his delicate frame. now, as he lay against the sacks and boxes that had been drawn up to form a sort of couch for him, his breath came in short gasps, and his face was very pale. his brother, older, and stronger by far, who walked at the wheel, regarded him with a look in which affection and intense anxiety were mingled. it was not a time and place in which one could afford to be ill. richard and albert howard were bound together by the strongest of brotherly ties. richard had inherited his father's bigness and powerful constitution, albert his mother's slenderness and fragility. but it was the mother who lived the longer, although even she did not attain middle age, and her last words to her older son were: "richard, take care of albert." he had promised, and now was thinking how he could keep the promise. it was a terrible problem that confronted richard howard. he felt no fear on his own account. a boy in years, he was a man in the ability to care for himself, wherever he might be. in a boyhood spent on an illinois farm, where the prairies slope up to the forest, he had learned the ways of wood and field, and was full of courage, strength, and resource. but albert was different. he had not thrived in the moist air of the great valley. tall enough he was, but the width of chest and thickness of bone were lacking. noticing this, the idea of going to california had come to the older brother. the great gold days had passed years since, but it was still a land of enchantment to the youth of the older states, and the long journey in the high, dry air of the plains would be good for albert. there was nothing to keep them back. they had no property save a little money--enough for their equipment, and a few dollars over to live on in california until they could get work. to decide was to start, and here they were in the middle of the vast country that rolled away west of the missouri, known but little, and full of dangers. the journey had been much harder than the older boy had expected. the days stretched out, the weeks trailed away, and still the plains rolled before them. the summer had been of the hottest, and the heated earth gave back the glare until the air quivered in torrid waves. richard had drawn back the cover of the wagon that his brother might breathe the air, but he replaced it now to protect him from the overpowering beams. once more he anxiously studied the country, but it gave him little hope. the green of the grass was gone, and most of the grass with it. the brown undulations swept away from horizon to horizon, treeless, waterless, and bare. in all that vast desolation there was nothing save the tired and dusty train at the very center of it. "anything in sight, dick?" asked albert, who had followed his brother's questioning look. dick shook his head. "nothing, al," he replied. "i wish we'd come to a grove," said the sick boy. he longed, as do all those who are born in the hills, for the sight of trees and clear, running water. "i was thinking, dick," he resumed in short, gasping tones, "that it would be well for us, just as the evening was coming on, to go over a swell and ride right into a forest of big oaks and maples, with the finest little creek that you ever saw running through the middle of it. it would be pleasant and shady there. leaves would be lying about, the water would be cold, and maybe we'd see elk coming down to drink." "perhaps we'll have such luck, al," said dick, although his tone showed no such hope. but he added, assuming a cheerful manner: "this can't go on forever; we'll be reaching the mountains soon, and then you'll get well." "how's that brother of yours? no better, i see, and he's got to ride all the time now, making more load for the animals." it was sam conway, the leader of the train, who spoke, a rough man of middle age, for whom both dick and albert had acquired a deep dislike. dick flushed through his tan at the hard words. "if he's sick he had the right to ride," he replied sharply. "we've paid our share for this trip and maybe a little more. you know that." conway gave him an ugly look, but dick stood up straight and strong, and met him eye for eye. he was aware of their rights and he meant to defend them. conway, confronted by a dauntless spirit, turned away, muttering in a surly fashion: "we didn't bargain to take corpses across the plains." fortunately, the boy in the wagon did not hear him, and, though his eyes flashed ominously, dick said nothing. it was not a time for quarreling, but it was often hard to restrain one's temper. he had realized, soon after the start, when it was too late to withdraw, that the train was not a good one. it was made up mostly of men. there were no children, and the few women, like the men, were coarse and rough. turbulent scenes had occurred, but dick and albert kept aloof, steadily minding their own business. "what did conway say?" asked albert, after the man had gone. "nothing of any importance. he was merely growling as usual. he likes to make himself disagreeable. i never saw another man who got as much enjoyment out of that sort of thing." albert said nothing more, but closed his eyes. the canvas cover protected him from the glare of the sun, but seemed to hold the heat within it. drops of perspiration stood on his face, and dick longed for the mountains, for his brother's sake. all the train fell into a sullen silence, and no sound was heard but the unsteady rumble of the wheels, the creak of an ungreased axle, and the occasional crack of a whip. clouds of dust arose and were whipped by the stray winds into the faces of the travelers, the fine particles burning like hot ashes. the train moved slowly and heavily, as if it dragged a wounded length over the hard ground. dick howard kept his position by the side of the wagon in which his brother lay. he did not intend that albert should hear bitter words leveled at his weakness, and he knew that his own presence was a deterrent. the strong figures and dauntless port of the older youth inspired respect. moreover, he carried over his shoulder a repeating rifle of the latest pattern, and his belt was full of cartridges. he and albert had been particular about their arms. it was a necessity. the plains and the mountains were subject to all the dangers of indian warfare, and they had taken a natural youthful pride in buying the finest of weapons. the hot dust burned dick howard's face and crept into his eyes and throat. his tongue lay dry in his mouth. he might have ridden in one of the wagons, too, had he chosen. as he truly said, he and albert had paid their full share, and in the labor of the trail, he was more efficient than anybody else in the train. but his pride had been touched by conway's words. he would not ride, nor would he show any signs of weakness. he strode on by the side of the wagon, head erect, his step firm and springy. the sun crept slowly down the brassy arch of the heavens, and the glare grew less blinding. the heat abated, but albert howard, who had fallen asleep, slept on. his brother drew a blanket over him, knowing that he could not afford to catch cold, and breathed the cooler air himself, with thankfulness. conway came back again, and was scarcely less gruff than before, although he said nothing about albert. "bright sun says than in another day or two we'll be seeing the mountains," he vouchsafed; "and i'll be glad of it, because then we'll be coming to water and game." "i'd like to be seeing them now," responded dick; "but do you believe everything that bright sun says?" "of course i do. hasn't he brought us along all right? what are you driving at?" his voice rose to a challenging tone, in full accordance with the nature of the man, whenever anyone disagreed with him, but dick howard took not the least fear. "i don't altogether like bright sun," he replied. "just why, i can't say, but the fact remains that i don't like him. it doesn't seem natural for an indian to be so fond of white people, and to prefer another race to his own." conway laughed harshly. "that shows how much you know," he said. "bright sun is smart, smarter than a steel trap. he knows that the day of the red is passing, and he's going to train with the white. what's the use of being on the losing side? it's what i say, and it's what bright sun thinks." the man's manner was gross and materialistic, so repellent that dick would have turned away, but at that moment bright sun himself approached. dick regarded him, as always, with the keenest interest and curiosity mixed with some suspicion. yet almost anyone would have been reassured by the appearance of bright sun. he was a splendid specimen of the indian, although in white garb, even to the soft felt hat shading his face. but he could never have been taken for a white man. his hair was thick, black, and coarse, his skin of the red man's typical coppery tint, and his cheek bones high and sharp. his lean but sinewy and powerful figure rose two inches above six feet. there was an air about him, too, that told of strength other than that of the body. guide he was, but leader he looked. "say, bright sun," exclaimed conway coarsely, "dick howard here thinks you're too friendly with the whites. it don't seem natural to him that one of your color should consort so freely with us." dick's face flushed through the brown, and he shot an angry glance at conway, but bright sun did not seem to be offended. "why not?" he asked in perfect english. "i was educated in a mission school. i have been with white people most of my life, i have read your books, i know your civilization, and i like it." "there now!" exclaimed conway triumphantly. "ain't that an answer for you? i tell you what, bright sun, i'm for you, i believe in you, and if anybody can take us through all right to california, you're the man." "it is my task and i will accomplish it," said bright sun in the precise english he had learned at the mission school. his eyes met dick's for a moment, and the boy saw there a flash that might mean many things--defiance, primeval force, and the quality that plans and does. but the flash was gone in an instant, like a dying spark, and bright sun turned away. conway also left, but dick's gaze followed the indian. he did not know bright sun's tribe. he had heard that he was a sioux, also that he was a crow, and a third report credited him with being a cheyenne. as he never painted his face, dressed like a white man, and did not talk of himself and his people, the curious were free to surmise as they chose. but dick was sure of one thing: bright sun was a man of power. it was not a matter of surmise, he felt it instinctively. the tall figure of the indian was lost among the wagons, and dick turned his attention to the trail. the cooling waves continued to roll up, as the west reddened into a brilliant sunset. great bars of crimson, then of gold, and the shades in between, piled above one another on the horizon. the plains lost their brown, and gleamed in wonderful shimmering tints. the great desolate world became beautiful. the train stopped with a rumble, a creak, and a lurch, and the men began to unharness the animals. albert awoke with a start and sat up in the wagon. "night and the camp, al," said dick cheerfully; "feel better, don't you? "yes, i do," replied albert, as a faint color came into his face. "thought the rest and the coolness would brace you up," continued dick in the same cheerful tone. albert, a tall, emaciated boy with a face of great refinement and delicacy, climbed out of the wagon and looked about. dick busied himself with the work of making camp, letting albert give what help he could. but dick always undertook to do enough for two--his brother and himself--and he really did enough for three. no other was so swift and skillful at taking the gear off horse or mule, nor was there a stronger or readier arm at the wheel when it was necessary to complete the circle of wagons that they nightly made. when this was done, he went out on the prairie in search of buffalo chips for the fire, which he was fortunate enough to find without any trouble. before returning with his burden, dick stood a few moments looking back at the camp. the dusk had fully come, but the fires were not yet lighted, and he saw only the shadowy forms of the wagons and flitting figures about them. but much talked reached his ears, most of it coarse and rough, with a liberal sprinkling of oaths. dick sighed. his regret was keener than ever that albert and he were in such company. then he looked the other way out upon the fathomless plains, where the night had gathered, and the wind was moaning among the swells. the air was now chill enough to make him shiver, and he gazed with certain awe into the black depths. the camp, even with all its coarseness and roughness, was better, and he walked swiftly back with his load of fuel. they built a dozen fires within the circle of the wagons, and again dick was the most active and industrious of them all, doing his share, albert's, and something besides. when the fires were lighted they burned rapidly and merrily, sending up great tongues of red or yellow flame, which shed a flickering light over wagons, animals, and men. a pleasant heat was suffused and dick began to cook supper for albert and himself, bringing it from the wagon in which his brother and he had a share. he fried bacon and strips of dried beef, boiled coffee, and warmed slices of bread over the coals. he saw with intense pleasure that albert ate with a better appetite than he had shown for days. as for himself, he was as hungry as a horse--he always was on this great journey--and since there was plenty, he ate long, and was happy. dick went to the wagon, and returned with a heavy cloak, which he threw over albert's shoulders. "the night's getting colder," he said, "and you mustn't take any risks, al. there's one trouble about a camp fire in the open--your face can burn while your back freezes." content fell over the camp. even rough men of savage instincts are willing to lie quiet when they are warm and well fed. jokes, coarse but invariably in good humor, were exchanged. the fires still burned brightly, and the camp formed a core of light and warmth in the dark, cold wilderness. albert, wrapped in the cloak, lay upon his side and elbow gazing dreamily into the flames. dick sat near him, frying a piece of bacon on the end of a stick. neither heard the step behind them because it was noiseless, but both saw the tall figure of bright sun, as he came up to their fire. "have a piece of bacon, bright sun," said dick hospitably, holding out the slice to him, and at the same time wondering whether the indian would take it. bright sun shook his head. "i thank you," he replied, "but i have eaten enough. how is mr. albert howard now?" dick appreciated the inquiry, whether or not it was prompted by sympathy. "good," he replied. "al's picking up. haven't seen him eat as he did to-night for months. if he keeps on this way, he'll devour a whole buffalo as soon as he's able to kill one." bright sun smiled, and sat down on the ground near them. it seemed to the boy, a keen observer of his kind, that he wished to talk. dick was willing. "do you know," asked bright sun, "that reports of gold in the region to the north, called by you the black hills, have come to us?" "i heard some one speak of it two or three days ago," replied dick, "but i paid no attention to it." bright sun looked thoughtfully into the fire, the glow of which fell full upon his face, revealing every feature like carving. his nose was hooked slightly, and to dick it now looked like the beak of an eagle. the somber eyes, too, expressed brooding and mastery alike. despite himself, dick felt again that he was in the presence of power, and he was oppressed by a sense of foreboding. "it was worth attention," said bright sun in the slow, precise tones of one who speaks a language not his own, but who speaks it perfectly. "the white man's gold is calling to him loudly. it calls all through the day and night. do these men with whom you travel go to anything certain far over on the coast of the western ocean? no, they are leaves blown by the wind. the wind now blows in the direction of the black hills, where the gold is said to be, and to-morrow the wagon train turns its head that way." dick sat up straight, and albert, wrapped in his blanket, leaned forward to listen. "but the engagement with us all," said dick, "was to go to the pacific. albert and i paid our share for that purpose. conway knows it." the indian looked at dick. the boy thought he saw a flickering smile of amusement in his eyes, but it was faint, and gone in a moment. "conway does not care for that," said the indian. "your contracts are nothing to him. this is the wilderness, and it stretches away for many hundreds of miles in every direction. the white man's law does not come here. moreover, nearly all wish him to turn to the north and the gold." albert suddenly spoke, and his tone, though thin from physical weakness, was quick, intense, and eager. "why couldn't we go on with them, dick?" he said. "we have nothing definite on the pacific coast. we are merely taking chances, and if the black hills are full of gold, we might get our share!" dick's eyes glistened. if one had to go, one might make the best of it. the spirit of romance was alive within him. he was only a boy. "of course we'll go, al," he said lightly, "and you and i will have a tone of gold inside a year." bright sun looked at the two boys, first one and then the other, stalwart dick and weak albert. it seemed to dick that he saw a new expression in the indian's eyes, one that indicated the shadow of regret. he resented it. did bright sun think that albert and he were not equal to the task? "i am strong," he said; "i can lift and dig enough for two; but albert will also be strong, after we have been a little while in the mountains." "you might have strength enough. i do not doubt it," said bright sun softly, "but the black hills are claimed by the sioux. they do not wish the white men to come there, and the sioux are a great and powerful tribe, or rather a nation of several allied and kindred tribes, the most powerful indian nation west of the mississippi." bright sun's voice rose a little toward the last, and the slight upward tendency gave emphasis and significance to his words. the brooding eyes suddenly shot forth a challenging light. "are you a sioux?" asked dick involuntarily. bright sun bent upon him a look of gentle reproof. "since i have taken the ways of your race i have no tribe," he replied. "but, as i have said, the sioux claim the black hills, and they have many thousands of warriors, brave, warlike, and resolved to keep the country." "the government will see that there is no war," said dick. "governments can do little in a wilderness," replied bright sun. dick might have made a rejoinder, but at that moment a burly figure came into the light of the fire. it was sam conway, and he glanced suspiciously at the indian and the two boys. "are you telling 'em, bright sun, when we'll reach california?" he asked. bright sun gave him an oblique glance. the indian seldom looks the white man in the face, but it was obvious that bright sun was not afraid of the leader. conway, as well as the others, knew it. "no," he replied briefly. "it's just as well that you haven't," said conway briskly, "'cause we're not going to california at all--at least not this year. it's the wish and general consensus of this here train that we turn to the north, go into the black hills, and fill our wagons with gold." "so it's decided, then, is it?" asked dick. "yes, it's decided," replied conway, his tone now becoming positively brutal, "and if you and your brother don't like it, you know what you can do." "keep on alone for the coast, i suppose," said dick, looking him steadily in the face. "if you put it that way." "but we don't choose," said dick, "al and i have an interest in one wagon and team, and we're going to hold on to it. besides, we're quite willing to try our luck in the black hills, too. we're going with you." conway frowned, but dick also was not afraid of him, and knew that he could not turn the two boys out on the prairie. they had a full right to go with the train. "that settles it," he said, turning away. "you can do as you please, but what happens after we get into the black hills is another thing. likely, we'll scatter." the sound of his retreating footsteps quickly died away in the darkness, and bright sun, too, slid among the shadows. he was gone so quickly and quietly that it gave dick an uncanny feeling. "what do you make of it, al?" he asked his brother. "what does bright sun mean by what he said to us?" the glow of the flame fell across albert's pale face, and, by the light of it, dick saw that he was very thoughtful. he seemed to be looking over and beyond the fire and the dark prairie, into time rather than space. "i think it was a warning, dick," replied albert at last. "maybe bright sun intended it for only you and me. but i want to go up there in the black hills, dick." "and so do i. it'll be easier for you, al, than the trip across the continent. when you are a mile and a half or two miles above the sea, you'll begin to take on flesh like a bear in summer. besides, the gold, al! think of the gold!" albert smiled. he, too, was having happy thoughts. the warm glow of the fire clothed him and he was breathing easily and peacefully. by and by he sank down in his blanket and fell into a sound sleep. dick himself did not yet have any thought of slumber. wide-awake visions were pursuing one another through his brain. he saw the mountains, dark and shaggy with pine forests, the thin, healing air over them, and the beds of gold in their bosom, with albert and himself discovering and triumphant. the fire died down, and glowed a mass of red embers. the talk sank. most of the men were asleep, either in their blankets or in the wagons. the darkness thickened and deepened and came close up to the fires, a circling rim of blackness. but dick was still wakeful, dreaming with wide-open eyes his golden dreams. as the visions followed one after another, a shadow which was not a part of any of them seemed to dick to melt into the uttermost darkness beyond the fires. a trace of something familiar in the figure impressed him, and, rising, he followed swiftly. the figure, still nebulous and noiseless, went on in the darkness, and another like it seemed to rise from the plain and join it. then they were lost to the sight of the pursuer, seeming to melt into and become a part of the surrounding darkness. dick, perplexed and uneasy, returned to the fire. the second shadow must certainly have been that of a stranger. what did it mean? he resumed his seat before the red glow, clasping his arms around his knees, a splendid, resourceful youth whom nature and a hardy life had combined to make what he was. his brother still slept soundly and peacefully, but the procession of golden visions did not pass again through dick's brain; instead, it was a long trail of clouds, dark and threatening. he sought again and again to conjure the clouds away and bring back the golden dreams, but he could not. the fire fell to nothing, the triumphant darkness swept up and blotted out the last core of light, the wind, edged with ice, blew in from the plains. dick shivered, drew a heavy blanket around his own shoulders, and moved a little, as he saw the dim figure of bright sun passing at the far edge of the wagons, but quickly relapsed into stillness. sleep at last pulled down his troubled lids. his figure sank, and, head on arms, he slumbered soundly. chapter ii king bison "up! up, everybody!" was the shout that reached dick's sleeping ears. he sprang to his feet and found that the gorgeous sun was flooding the prairie with light. already the high, brilliant skies of the great west were arching over him. men were cooking breakfast. teamsters were cracking their whips and the whole camp was alive with a gay and cheerful spirit. everybody seemed to know now that they were going for the gold, and, like dick, they had found it in fancy already. breakfast over, the train took up its march, turning at a right angle from its old course and now advancing almost due north. but this start was made with uncommon alacrity and zeal. there were no sluggards now. they, too, had golden visions, and, as if to encourage them, the aspect of the country soon began to change, and rapidly to grow better. the clouds of dust that they raised were thinner. the bunch grass grew thicker. off on the crest of a swell a moving figure was seen now and then. "antelope," said the hunters. once they passed a slow creek. the water was muddy, but it contained no alkali, and animals and men drank eagerly. cottonwoods, the first trees they had seen in days, grew on either side of the stream, and they rested there awhile in the shade, because the sun was now out in full splendor, and the vast plains shimmered in the heat. albert resumed his place in the wagon. dick had a horse which, on becoming foot-sore, had been allowed to rest for a few days, and was now well. he mounted it and galloped on ahead. the clouds were all gone away and the golden visions had come back. he felt so strong, so young, and the wonderful air of the plains was such a tonic that he urged his horse to a gallop, and it was hard for him to keep from shouting aloud in joy. he looked eagerly into the north, striving already for a sight of the dark mountains that men called the black hills. the blue gave back nothing but its own blue. his horse seemed to share his spirits, and swung along with swift and easy stride. dick looked back presently, and saw that the train which had been winding like a serpent over the plains was lost to sight behind the swells. the surface of the earth had become more rolling as they advanced northward, and he knew that the train, though out of sight, was nor far away. he enjoyed for the moment the complete absence of all human beings save himself. to be alone then meant anything but loneliness. he galloped to the crest of a higher swell than usual, and then stopped short. far off on the plain he saw tiny moving figures, a dozen or so, and he was sure that they were antelope. they had seen antelope before at a great distance, but had not bothered about them. now the instincts of the hunter rose in dick, and he resolved to make a trial of his skill. he found in one of the depressions between the swells a stunted cottonwood, to which he hitched his horse, knowing it would be well hidden there from the observation of the herd. he then advanced on foot. he had heard that the antelope was a slave to its own curiosity, and through that weakness he intended to secure his game. when he had gone about half the distance he sank down on his hands and knees and began to crawl, a laborious and sometimes painful operation, burdened as he was with his rifle, and unused to such methods of locomotion. presently he noticed a flutter among the antelope, a raising of timid heads, an alarmed looking in his direction. but dick was prepared. he lay flat upon his face, and dug the point of the long hunting knife that he carried into the ground, while the wind blew out the folds of the red handkerchief which he had tied to the handle. mr. big buck antelope, the chief of the herd and a wary veteran, saw the waving red spot on the horizon and his interest was aroused, despite his caution. what a singular thing! it must be investigated! it might be some new kind of food very good for mr. big buck's palate and stomach, and no provident antelope could afford to let such an opportunity pass. he was trembling all over with curiosity, and perhaps his excitement kept him from seeing the dark shape that blurred with the earth just beyond the red something, or he may have taken it for a shadow. at any event, his curiosity kept him from paying heed to it, and he began to approach. his steps were hesitating, and now and then he drew away a little, but that singular red object lured him on, and yard by yard he drew nearer. he suddenly saw the black shadow beyond the fluttering red object detach itself from the ground, and resolve into a terrible shape. his heart sprang up in his bosom, and he was about to rush madly away, but it was too late. a stream of fire shot forth from the dark object and the buck fell, a bullet through him. dick prepared the animal for dressing, thinking of the tender, juicy steaks that albert would enjoy, and then throwing the body across the horse, behind him, rode back to the train, proud of his success. conway frowned and said grudging words. he did not like, he said, for anybody to leave the train without his permission, and it was foolish, anyhow, for a boy to be galloping about as he pleased over the prairie; he might get lost, and there would be nobody to take care of the other boy, the sick one. dick made an easy diplomatic reply. he knew that conway merely wished to be unpleasant, but dick was of a very good nature, and he was particularly averse just then to quarreling with anybody. he was too full of the glory of living. instead, he offered some of the antelope steaks to conway, who churlishly accepted them, and that night he broiled others for albert and himself, dividing the rest among the men. albert found antelope steak tender and juicy, and he ate with an increasing appetite. dick noted the increase with pleasure. "i wish i could go out and kill antelope," said albert. dick laughed cheerfully. "kill antelope," he said. "why, al, in six months you'll be taking a grizzly bear by the neck and choking him to death with your two hands." "wish i could believe it," said albert. but dick went to sleep early that night, and slept peacefully without dreams or visions, and the next morning the train resumed its sanguine march. they were still ascending, and the character of the country continued to improve. bunch grass steadily grew thicker and buffalo chips were numerous. the heat in the middle of the day was still great, but the air was so dry and pure that it was not oppressive. albert dismounted from the wagon, and walked for several miles by the side of his brother. "shouldn't be surprised if we saw buffalo," said dick. "heard 'em talking about it in the train. bright sun says these are favorite grazing grounds, and there's still a lot of buffalo scattered about the plains." albert showed excitement. "a buffalo herd!" he exclaimed. "do you think it can really happen, dick? i never thought i'd see such a thing! i hope it'll come true!" it came true much sooner than albert hoped. scarcely a half hour after he spoke, bright sun, who was at the head of the column, stopped his pony and pointed to indistinct tiny shadows just under the horizon. "buffalo!" he said tersely, and after a moment's pause he added: "a great herd comes!" dick and albert were on foot then, but they heard his words and followed his pointing finger with the deepest interest. the tiny black shadows seemed to come out of the horizon as if they stepped from a wall. they grew in size and number, and all the west was filled with their forms. the train resumed its march, bending off under the guidance of bright sun a little toward the west, and it was obvious that the herd would pass near. dick and albert rejoiced, because they wished to see the buffaloes at close quarters, and dick was hoping also for a shot. others, too, in the train, although their minds were set on gold, began to turn their attention now to the herd. the sport and the fresh meat alike would be welcome. it was dick's impulse to mount his horse and gallop away again, gun in hand, but he made a supreme conquest over self and remained. he remembered albert's longing words about the antelope, his wish that he, too, tireless, might be able to pursue the game. dick remained quietly by his brother's side. the whole train stopped presently at conway's order on the crest of a swell, and drew itself up in a circle. many of the men were now mounted and armed for an attack upon the herd, but at the suggestion of bright sun they waited a little, until the opportunity should become more convenient. "it is a big herd," said bright sun; "perhaps the biggest that one can ever see now." it certainly seemed immense to dick and albert. the great animals came on in an endless stream from the blue wall of the horizon. the vast procession steadily broadened and lengthened and it moved with unceasing step toward the south. the body of it was solid black, with figures which at the distance blended into one mass, but on the flanks hung stragglers, lawless old bulls or weaklings, and outside there was a fringe of hungry wolves, snapping and snarling, and waiting a chance to drag down some failing straggler. far over the plain spread the herd, thousands and tens of thousands, and the earth shook with their tread. confused, bellowings and snortings arose, and the dust hung thick. dick and albert stared with intent eyes at the wonderful scene. the herd was drawing nearer and nearer. it would pass only a few hundred yards from the crest on which the train stood. already the hunters were shouting to one another and galloping away, but dick did not stir from albert's side. albert's eyes were expanded, and the new color in his face deepened. his breath cam in the short, quick fashion of one who is excited. he suddenly turned to his brother. "the men are off! why aren't you with them dick?" he exclaimed. "i thought i wouldn't go," replied dick evasively. "there'll be enough without me." albert stared. not hunt buffalo when one could. it was unbelievable. then he comprehended. but he would not have it that way! it was noble of dick, but it should not be so for a moment. he cried out, a note of anxiety in this voice: "no, dick, you shall not say here with me! my time will come later on! jump on your horse, dick, and join 'em! i won't forgive you if you don't!" dick saw that albert was in earnest, and he knew that it would be better for them both now if he should go. "all right, al!" he cried, "i'll pick out a good fat one." he jumped on his horse and in a moment was galloping at full speed over the plain toward the great herd which now rushed on, black and thundering. dick heard shots already from those who had preceded him, and the exultant shouts of the men mingled with the roar of mighty tramplings. but it was not all triumph for the men, few of whom were experienced. two or three had been thrown by shying horses, and with difficulty escaped being trodden to death under the feet of the herd. the herd itself was so immense that it did not notice these few wasps on a distant flank, and thundered steadily on southward. dick's own horse, frightened by such a tremendous sight, shied and jumped, but the boy had a sure seat and brought him around again. dick himself was somewhat daunted by the aspect of the herd. if he and his hose got in the way, they would go down forever, as surely as if engulfed by an avalanche. the horse shied again and made a mighty jump, as a huge bull, red-eyed and puffing, charged by. dick, who was holding his rifle in one hand, slipped far over, and with great difficulty regained his balance on the horse's back. when he was secure again, he turned his mount and galloped along for some distance on the flank of the herd, seeking a suitable target for his bullet. the effect was dizzying. so many thousands were rushing beside him that the shifting panorama made him wink his eyes rapidly. vast clouds of dust floated about, now and then enveloping him, and that made him wink his eyes, too. but he continued, nevertheless, to seek for his target a fat cow. somehow he didn't seem to see anything just then but old bulls. they were thick on the flanks of the herd either as stragglers or protectors, and dick was afraid to press in among them in his search for the cow. his opportunity came at last. a young cow, as fat as one could wish, was thrown on the outside by some movement of the herd, caught, as it were, like a piece of driftwood in an eddy, and dick instantly fired at her. she staggered and went down, but at the same instant a huge, shaggy bull careened against dick and his horse. it was not so much a charge as an accident, the chance of dick's getting in the bull's way, and the boy's escape was exceedingly narrow. his horse staggered and fell to his knees. the violence of the shock wrested dick's rifle from his hand, and he was barely quick enough to grasp it as it was sliding across the saddle. but he did save it, and the horse, trembling and frightened, recovered his feet. by that time the old bull and his comrades were gone. dick glanced around and was relieved to see that nobody had noticed his plight. they were all too much absorbed in their own efforts to pay any heed to him. the body took a deep, long breath. he had killed a buffalo, despite his inexperience. there was the cow to show for it. the herd thundered off to the southward, the clouds of dust and the fringe of wolves following it. about a dozen of their number had fallen before the rifles, but dick had secured the fattest and the tenderest. albert, as proud as dick himself of his triumph, came down on the plain and helped as much as he could in skinning and cutting up the cow. dick wished to preserve the robe, and they spread it out on the wagon to dry. the train made no further attempt to advance that day, but devoted the afternoon to a great feast. bright sun showed them how to cook the tenderest part of the hump in the coals, and far into the night the fires blazed. "we will see no more buffaloes for a while," said bright sun. "to-morrow we reach another little river coming down from the hills, and the ground becomes rough." bright sun told the truth. they reached the river about noon of the next day, and, as it flowed between steep banks, the crossing was difficult. it took many hours to get on the other side, and two or three axles were broken by the heavy jolts. conway raged and swore, calling them a clumsy lot, and some of the men refused to take his abuse, replying to his hard words with others equally as hard. pistols were drawn and there was promise of trouble, but it was finally stopped, partly by the persuasion of others, and partly of its own accord. the men were still feeling the desire for gold too strongly to fight while on the way to it. dick and albert kept aloof from these contentions, steadily minding their own business, and they found, as others do, that it paid. they came presently into a better country, and the way led for a day or two through a typical part of the great plains, not a flat region, but one of low, monotonous swells. now and then they crossed a shallow little creek, and occasionally they came to pools, some of which were tinged with alkali. there were numerous small depressions, two or three feet deep, and dick knew that they were "buffalo wallows." he and albert examined them with interest. "this is buffalo country again," said dick. "everything proves it. the grass here is the best that we have seen in a long time, and i imagine that it's just the sort of place they would love." the grass was, indeed, good, as dick had said, not merely clumps of it, but often wide, carpeted spaces. it was somewhat dry, and turning brown, but so big and strong an animal as the buffalo would not mind it. in fact, they saw several small groups of buffaloes grazing at a distance, usually on the crest of one of the low swells. as they already had plenty of buffalo meat, the men of the train did not trouble them, and the great animals would continue to crop the grass undisturbed. about a week after the buffalo hunt they camped in a great plain somewhat flatter than any that they had encountered hitherto, and drew up the wagons in a loose circle. the day had been very hot, but, as usual on the plains, the night brought coolness. the fire which dick made of buffalo chips was not only useful, but it felt pleasant, too, as they sat beside it, ate their supper, and watched the great inclosing circle of darkness creep up closer and closer to the camp. there was not much noise about them. the men were tired, and as soon as they ate their food they fell asleep in the wagons or on the ground. the tethered horses and mules stirred a little for a while, but they, too, soon rested in peace. "you take the wagon, al," said dick, "but i think i'll sleep on the ground." albert said good night and disappeared in the wagon. dick stood up and looked over the camp. only two or three fires were yet burning, and not a dozen men were awake. he saw dark figures here and there on the ground, and knew that they were those of sleepers. three sentinels had been posted, but dick was quite sure from the general character of the train that later on they would sleep like the others. all his instincts of order and fitness rebelled against the management of this camp. dick rolled himself in his blanket and lay down by the little fire that he had built. the dry, clean earth made a good bed, and with his left elbow under his head he gazed into the fire, which, like all fires of buffalo chips, was now rapidly dying, leaving little behind but light ashes that the first breeze would scatter through space. he watched the last blaze sink and go out, he saw the last coal die, then, when a few sparks flew upward, there was blank darkness where the fire had been. all the other fires were out, too, and only the dim figures of the wagons showed. he felt, for a little while, as if he were alone in the wilderness, but he was not afraid. all was darkness below, and the wind was moaning, but overhead was a blue sky filled with friendly stars. dick could not go to sleep for a long time. from the point where he lay he could now see two of the sentinels walking back and forth, rifle on shoulder. he did not believe that they would continue to do so many hours, and he had a vague sort of desire to prove that he was right. having nothing else to do he watched them. the nearer sentinel grew lazier in his walk, and his beat became shorter. at last he dropped his rifle to the ground, leaned his folded arms on its muzzle, and gazed toward the camp, where, so far as he could see, there was nothing but darkness and sleep. the other presently did the same. then they began short walks back and forth, but soon both sat down on the ground, with their rifles between their knees, and after that they did not stir. watching as closely as he could dick could not observe the slightest movement on the part of either, and he knew that they were asleep. he laughed to himself, pleased, in a way, to know that he had been right, although it was only another evidence of the carelessness and indifference general throughout the train. he fell asleep himself in another half hour, but he awoke about midnight, and he was conscious at once that he had been awakened not by a troubled mind, but by something external and unusual. he was lying with his right ear to the ground, and it seemed to him that a slight trembling motion ran through the solid earth. he did not so much hear it as feel it, and tried to persuade himself that it was mere fancy, but failed. he sat up, and he no longer observed the trembling, but when he put his ear to the ground again it was stronger. it could not be fancy. it was something real and extraordinary. he glanced at the sentinels, but they were sound asleep. he felt a desire to rouse somebody, but if it proved to be nothing they would laugh at him, or more likely call him hard names. he tried ear to earth once more. the trembling was still growing in strength, and mixed with it was a low, groaning sound, like the swell of the sea on the shore. the sound came with the wind from the north. dick sprang to his feet. there, in the north was a faint light which grew with amazing rapidity. in a minutes almost it seemed to redden the whole northern heavens, and the groaning sound became a roll, like that of approaching thunder. a shadow flitted by dick. "what is it, bright sun?? what is it?" exclaimed the boy. "the dry grass burns, and a mighty buffalo herd flees before it." then bright sun was gone, and the full sense of their danger burst upon dick in overwhelming tide. the flames came on, as fast as a horse's gallop, and the buffaloes, in thousands and tens of thousands, were their vanguard. the camp lay directly in the path of fire and buffalo. the awakened sentinels were on their feet now, and half-clad men were springing from the wagons. dick stood perfectly still for perhaps a minute, while the fire grew brighter and the thunder of a myriad hoofs grew louder. then he remembered what he had so often read and heard, and the crisis stirred him to swift action. while the whole camp was a scene of confusion, of shouts, of oaths, and of running men, he sped to its south side, to a point twenty or thirty yards from the nearest wagon. there he knelt in the dry grass and drew his box of matches from his pocket. it happened that conway saw. "what are you doing, you boy?" he cried, threateningly. but dick did not care for conway just then. "back fire! back fire!" he shouted, and struck a match. it went out, but he quickly struck another, shielded it with one hand and touched the tiny flame to the grass. a flame equally tiny answered, but in an instant it leaped into the size and strength of a giant. the blaze rose higher than dick's head, ran swiftly to right and left, and then roared away to the south, eating up everything in its path. "well done," said a voice at dick's elbow. "it is the only thing that could save the train." it was bright sun who spoke, and he had come so silently that dick did not see him until then. conway understood now, but without a word of approval he turned away and began to give orders, mixed with much swearing. he had a rough sort of efficiency, and spurred by his tongue and their own dreadful necessity, the men worked fast. the horses and mules, except three or four which had broken loose and were lost, were hitched to the wagons in half the usual time. there were no sluggards now. dick helped, and albert, too, but to both it seemed that the work would never be done. the back fire was already a half mile away, gathering volume and speed as it went, but the other was coming on at an equal pace. deer and antelope were darting past them, and the horses and mules were rearing in terror. "into the burned ground," shouted conway, "an' keep the wagons close together!" no need to urge the animals. they galloped southward over earth which was still hot and smoking, but they knew that something was behind them, far more terrible than sparks and smoke. dick made albert jump into their own wagon, while he ran beside it. as he ran, he looked back, and saw a sight that might well fill the bravest soul with dread. a great black line, crested with tossing horns, was bearing down on them. the thunder of hoofs was like the roar of a hurricane, but behind the herd was a vast wall of light, which seemed to reach from the earth to the heavens and which gave forth sparks in myriads. dick knew that they had been just in time. they did not stop until they had gone a full quarter of a mile, and then the wagons were hastily drawn up in a rude circle, with the animals facing the center, that is, the inside, and still rearing and neighing in terror. then the men, rifle in hand, and sitting in the rear of the wagons, faced the buffalo herd. dick was with the riflemen, and, like the others, he began to fire as soon as the vanguard of the buffaloes was near enough. the wagons were a solid obstacle which not even king bison could easily run over, but dick and albert thought the herd would never split, although the bullets were poured into it at a central point like a driven wedge. but the falling buffaloes were an obstacle to those behind them, and despite their mad panic, the living became conscious of the danger in front. the herd split at last, the cleft widened to right and left, and then the tide, in two great streams, flowed past the wagon train. dick ceased firing and sat with albert on the tail of the wagon. the wall of fire, coming to the burned ground, went out in the center, but the right and left ends of it, swinging around, still roared to the southward, passing at a distance of a quarter of a mile on either side. dick and albert watched until all the herd was gone, and when only smoke and sparks were left, helped to get the camp into trim again. conway knew that the boy had saved them, but he gave him no thanks. it took the ground a long time to cool, and they advanced all the next day over a burned area. they traveled northward ten days, always ascending, and they were coming now to a wooded country. they crossed several creeks, flowing down from the higher mountains, and along the beds of these they found cottonwood, ash, box elder, elm, and birch. on the steeper slops were numerous cedar brakes and also groves of yellow pine. there was very little undergrowth, but the grass grew in abundance. although it was now somewhat dry, the horses and mules ate it eagerly. the buffaloes did not appear here, but they saw many signs of bear, mule deer, panther or mountain lion, and other game. they camped one night in a pine grove by the side of a brook that came rushing and foaming down from the mountains, and the next morning albert, who walked some distance from the water, saw a silver-tip bear lapping the water of the stream. the bear raised his head and looked at albert, and albert stopped and looked at the bear. the boy was unarmed, but he was not afraid. the bear showed no hostility, only curiosity. he gazed a few moments, stretched his nose as if he would sniff the air, then turned and lumbered away among the pines. albert returned to camp, but he said nothing of the bear to anybody except dick. "he was such a jolly, friendly looking fellow, dick," he said, "that i didn't want any of these men to go hunting him." dick laughed. "don't you worry about that, al," he said. "they are hunting gold, not bears." on the twelfth day they came out on a comparatively level plateau, where antelope were grazing and prairie chickens whirring. it looked like a fertile country, and they were glad of easy traveling for the wagons. just at the edge of the pine woods that they were leaving was a beautiful little lake of clear, blue water, by which they stayed half a day, refreshing themselves, and catching some excellent fish, the names of which they did not know. "how much long, bright sun, will it take us to reach the gold country?" asked conway of the indian, in dick's hearing. "about a week," replied bright sun. "the way presently will be very rough and steep, up! up! up! and we can go only a few miles a day, but the mountains are already before us. see!" he pointed northward and upward, and there before them was the misty blue loom that dick knew was the high mountains. in those dark ridges lay the gold that they were going to seek, and his heart throbbed. albert and he could do such wonderful things with it. they were so high already that the nights were crisp with cold; but at the edge of the forest, running down to the little lake, fallen wood was abundant, and they built that night a great fire of fallen boughs that crackled and roared merrily. yet they hovered closely, because the wind, sharp with ice, was whistling down from the mountains, and the night air, even in the little valley, was heavy with frost. dick's buffalo robe was dry now, and he threw it around albert, as he sat before the fire. it enveloped the boy like a great blanket, but far warmer, the soft, smooth fur caressing his cheeks, and as albert drew it closer, he felt very snug indeed. "we cross this valley to-morrow," said dick, "and then we begin a steeper climb." "then it will be mountains, only mountains," said bright sun. "we go into regions which no white men except the fur hunters, have ever trod." dick started. he had not known that the indian was near. certainly he was not there a moment ago. there was something uncanny in the way in which bright sun would appear on noiseless footstep, like a wraith rising from the earth. "i shall be glad of it, bright sun," said albert. "i'm tired of the plains, and they say that the mountains are good for many ills." bright sun's enigmatic glance rested upon albert a moment. "yes," he said, "the mountains will cure many ills." dick glanced at him, and once more he received the impression of thought and power. the indian's nose curved like an eagle's beak, and the firelight perhaps exaggerated both the curve and its effect. the whole impression of thought and force was heightened by the wide brow and the strong chin. dick looked back into the fire, and when he glanced around a few moments again, bright sun was not there. he had gone as silently as he had come. "that indian gives me the shivers sometimes," he said to albert. "what do you make of him?" "i don't know," replied the boy. "sometimes i like him and sometimes i don't." albert was soon asleep, wrapped in the buffalo robe, and dick by and by followed him to the same pleasant land. the wind, whistling as it blew down from the mountains, grew stronger and colder, and its tone was hostile, as if it resented the first presence of white men in the little valley by the lake. chapter iii the pass they resumed the journey early the next day, bright sun telling conway that they could reach the range before sunset, and that they would find there an easy pass leading a mile or two farther on to a protected and warm glen. "that's the place for our camp," said conway, and he urged the train forward. the traveling was smooth and easy, and they soon left the little blue lake well behind, passing through a pleasant country well wooded with elm, ash, birch, cottonwood, and box elder, and the grass growing high everywhere. they crossed more than one clear little stream, a pleasant contrast to the sluggish, muddy creeks of the prairies. the range, toward which the head of the train was pointing, now came nearer. the boys saw its slopes, shaggy with dark pine, and they knew that beyond it lay other and higher slopes, also dark with pine. the air was of a wonderful clearness, showing in the east and beyond the zenith a clear silver tint, while the west was pure red gold with the setting sun. nearer and nearer came the range. the great pines blurred at first into an unbroken mass, now stood out singly, showing their giant stems. afar a flash of foamy white appeared, where a brook fell in a foamy cascade. presently they were within a quarter of a mile of the range, and its shadow fell over the train. in the west the sun was low. "the pass is there, straight ahead," said bright sun, pointing to the steep range. "i don't see any opening," said conway. "it is so narrow and the pines hide it," rejoined bright sun, "but it is smooth and easy." albert was at the rear of the train. he had chosen to walk in the later hours of the afternoon. he had become very tired, but, unwilling to confess it even to himself, he did not resume his place in the wagon. his weariness made him lag behind. albert was deeply sensitive to the impressions of time and place. the twilight seemed to him to fall suddenly like a great black robe. the pines once more blurred into a dark, unbroken mass. the low sun in the west dipped behind the hills, and the rays of red and gold that it left were chill and cold. "your brother wishes to see you. he is at the foot of the creek that we crossed fifteen minutes ago." it was bright sun who spoke. "dick wants to see me at the crossing of the creek! why, i thought he was ahead of me with the train!" exclaimed albert. "no, he is waiting for you. he said that it was important," repeated bright sun. albert turned in the darkening twilight and went back on the trail of the train toward the crossing of the creek. bright sun went to the head of the train, and saw dick walking there alone and looking at the hills. "your brother is behind at the creek," said bright sun. "he is ill and wishes you. hurry! i think it is important!" "albert at the creek, ill?" exclaimed dick in surprise and alarm. "why, i thought he was here with the train!" but bright sun had gone on ahead. dick turned back hastily, and ran along the trail through the twilight that was now fast merging into the night. "al, ill and left behind!" he exclaimed again and again. "he must have overexerted himself!" his alarm deepened when he saw how fast the darkness was increasing. the chill bars of red and gold were gone from the west. when he looked back he could see the train no more, and heard only the faint sound of the cracking of whips. the train was fast disappearing in the pass. but dick had become a good woodsman and plainsman. his sense of direction was rarely wrong, and he went straight upon the trail for the creek. night had now come but it was not very dark, and presently he saw the flash of water. it was the creek, and a few more steps took him there. a figure rose out of the shadows. "al!" he cried. "have you broken down? why didn't you get into the wagon?" "dick," replied albert in a puzzled tone, "there's nothing the matter with me, except that i'm tired. bright sun told me that you were here waiting for me, and that you had something important to tell me. i couldn't find you, and now you come running." dick stopped in amazement. "bright sun said i was waiting here for you, and had something important to tell you?" exclaimed dick. "why, he told me that you were ill, and had been left unnoticed at the crossing!" the two boys stared at each other. "what does it mean?" they exclaimed together. from the dark pass before them came a sound which in the distance resembled the report of a firecracker, followed quickly by two or three other sounds, and then by many, as if the whole pack had been ignited at once. but both boys knew it was not firecrackers. it was something far more deadly and terrible--a hail of rifle bullets. they looked toward the pass and saw there pink and red flashes appearing and reappearing. shouts, and mingled with them a continuous long, whining cry, a dreadful overnote, came to their ears. "the train has been attacked!" cried dick. "it has marched straight into an ambush!" "indians?" exclaimed albert, who was trembling violently from sheer physical and mental excitement. "it couldn't be anything else!" replied dick. "this is their country! and they must be in great force, too! listen how the fight grows!" the volume of the firing increased rapidly, but above it always rose that terrible whining note. the red and pink flashes in the pass danced and multiplied, and the wind brought the faint odor of smoke. "we must help!" exclaimed dick. "one can't stand here and see them all cut down!" he forgot in his generous heart, at that moment, that he disliked conway and all his men, and that he and albert had scarcely a friend in the train. he thought only of doing what he could to beat back the indian attack, and albert felt the same impulse. both had their rifles--fine, breech-loading, repeating weapons, and with these the two might do much. no one ever parted with his arms after entering the indian country. "come on, albert!" exclaimed dick, and the two ran toward the pass. but before they had gone a hundred yards they stopped as if by the same impulse. that terrible whining note was now rising higher and higher. it was not merely a war whoop, it had become also a song of triumph. there was a certain silvery quality in the night air, a quality that made for illumination, and dick thought he saw dusky forms flitting here and there in the mouth of the pass behind the train. it was only fancy, because he was too far away for such perception, but in this case fancy and truth were the same. "hurry, dick! let's hurry!" exclaimed the impulsive and generous albert. "if we don't, we'll be too late to do anything!" they started again, running as fast as they could toward that space in the dark well where the flashes of red and blue came and went. dick was so intent that he did not hear the short, quick gasps of albert, but he did hear a sudden fall beside him and stopped short. albert was lying on his back unconscious. a faint tinge of abnormal red showed on his lips. "oh, i forgot! i forgot!" groaned dick. such sudden and violent exertion, allied with the excitement of the terrible moment, had overpowered the weak boy. dick bent down in grief. at first he thought his brother was dead, but the breath still came. dick did not know what to do. in the pass, under the shadow of night, the pines, and the mountain wall, the battle still flared and crackled, but its volume was dying. louder rose the fierce, whining yell, and its note was full of ferocity and triumph, while the hoarser cries of the white men became fewer and lower. now dick really saw dusky figures leaping about between him and the train. something uttering a shrill, unearthly cry of pain crashed heavily through the bushes near him and quickly passed on. it was a wounded horse, running away. dick shuddered. then he lifted albert in his arms, and he had the forethought, even in that moment of excitement and danger, to pick up albert's rifle also. strong as he naturally was, he had then the strength of four, and, turning off at a sharp angle, he ran with albert toward a dense thicket which clustered at the foot of the mountain wall. he went a full three hundred yards before he was conscious of weariness, and he was then at the edge of the thicket, which spread over a wide space. he laid albert down on some of last year's old leaves, and then his quick eyes caught the sight of a little pool among some rocks. he dipped up the water in his felt hat, and after carefully wiping the red stain from his brother's lips, poured the cold fluid upon his face. albert revived, sat up, and tried to speak, but dick pressed his hand upon his mouth. "nothing above a whisper, al," he said softly. "the fight is not yet wholly over, and the sioux are all about." "i fainted," said albert in a whisper. "o dick, what a miserable, useless fellow i am! but it was the excitement and the run!" "it was doubtless a lucky thing that you fainted," dick whispered back. "if you hadn't, both of us would probably be dead now." "it's not all over yet," said albert. "no, but it soon will be. thank god, we've got our rifles. do you feel strong enough to walk now, al? the deeper we get into the thicket the better it will be for us." albert rose slowly to his feet, rocked a little, and then stood straight. only a few flashes were appearing now in the pass. dick knew too well who had been victorious. the battle over, the sioux would presently be ranging for stragglers and for plunder. he put one arm under albert, while he carried both of the rifles himself. they walked on through the thicket and the night gradually darkened. the silvery quality was gone from the air, and the two boys were glad. it would not be easy to find them now. in the pass both the firing and the long, whining whoop ceased entirely. the flashes of red or blue appeared no more. silence reigned there and in the valley. dick shivered despite himself. for the moment the silence was more terrible than the noise of battle had been. black, ominous shadows seemed to float down from the mountains, clothing all the valley. a chill wind came up, moaning among the pines. the valley, so warm and beautiful in the day, now inspired dick with a sudden and violent repulsion. it was a hateful place, the abode of horror and dread. he wished to escape from it. they crossed the thicket and came up against the mountain wall. but it was not quite so steep as it had looked in the distance, and in the faint light dick saw the trace of a trail leading up the slope among the pines. it was not the trail of human beings, merely a faint path indicating that wild animals, perhaps cougars, had passed that way. "how are you feeling, al?" he asked, repeating his anxious query. "better. my strength has come back," replied his brother. "then we'll go up the mountain. we must get as far away as we can from those fiends, the sioux. thank god, al, we're spared together!" each boy felt a moment of devout thankfulness. they had not fallen, and they were there together! each also thought of the singular message that bright sun had given to them, but neither spoke of it. they climbed for more than half an hour in silence, save for an occasional whisper. the bushes helped albert greatly. he pulled himself along by means of them, and now and then the two boys stopped that he might rest. he was still excited under the influence of the night, the distant battle, and their peril, and he breathed in short gasps, but did not faint again. dick thrust his arm at intervals under his brother's and helped him in the ascent. after climbing a quarter of an hour, they stopped longer than usual and looked down at the pass, which dick reckoned should be almost beneath them. they heard the faint sound of a shot, saw a tiny beam of red appear, then disappear, and after that there was only silence and blank darkness. "it's all over now," whispered albert, and it was a whisper not of caution, but of awe. "yes, it's all over," dick said in the same tone. "it's likely, al, that you and i alone out of all that train are alive. conway and all the others are gone." "except bright sun," said albert. the two boys looked at each other again, but said nothing. they then resumed their climbing, finding it easier this time. they reached a height at which the undergrowth ceased, but the pines, growing almost in ordered rows, stretched onward and upward. dick sent occasional glances toward the pass, but the darkness there remained unbroken. every time he turned his eyes that way he seemed to be looking into a black well of terror. both dick and albert, after the first hour of ascent, had a feeling of complete safety. the sioux, occupied with their great ambush and victory, would not know there had been two stragglers behind the train, and even had they known, to search for them among the dense forests of distant mountain slopes would be a futile task. dick's mind turned instead to the needs of their situation, and he began to appreciate the full danger and hardship of it. albert and he were right in feeling thankful that they were spared together, although they were alone in the wilderness in every sense of the word. it was hundreds of miles north, east, south, and west to the habitations of white men. before them, fold on fold, lay unknown mountains, over which only hostile savages roamed. both he and albert had good rifles and belts full of cartridges, but that was all. it was a situation to daunt the most fearless heart, and the shiver that suddenly ran over dick did not come from the cold of the night. they took a long rest in a little clump of high pines and saw a cold, clear moon come out in the pale sky. they felt the awful sense of desolation and loneliness, for it seemed to them that the moon was looking down on an uninhabited world in which only they were left. they heard presently little rustlings in the grass, and thought at first it was another ambush, though they knew upon second thought that it was wild creatures moving on the mountain side. "come, al," said dick. "another half hour will put us on top of the ridge, and then i think it will be safe for us to stop." "i hope they'll be keeping a good room for us at the hotel up there," said albert wanly. dick tried to laugh, but it was a poor imitation and he gave it up. "we may find some sort of a sheltered nook," he said hopefully. dick had become conscious that it was cold, since the fever in his blood was dying down. whenever they stopped and their bodies relaxed, they suffered from chill. he was deeply worried about albert, who was in no condition to endure exposure on a bleak mountain, and wished now for the buffalo robe they had regarded as such a fine trophy. they reached the crest of the ridge in a half hour, as dick had expected, and looking northward in the moonlight saw the dim outlines of other ridges and peaks in a vast, intricate maze. a narrow, wooded valley seemed to occupy the space between the ridge on which they stood and the next one parallel to it to the northward. "it ought to be a good place down there to hide and rest," said albert. "i think you're right," said dick, "and we'll go down the slope part of the way before we camp for the night." they found the descent easy. it was still open forest, mostly pine with a sprinkling of ash and oak, and it was warmer on the northern side, the winds having but little sweep there. the moon became brighter, but it remained cold and pitiless, recking nothing of the tragedy in the pass. it gave dick a chill to look at it. but he spent most of the time watching among the trees for some sheltered spot that nature had made. it was over an hour before he found it, a hollow among rocks, with dwarf pines clustering thickly at the sides and in front. it was so well hidden that he would have missed it had he not been looking for just such a happy alcove, and at first he was quite sure that some wild animal must be using it as a den. he poked in the barrel of his rifle, but nothing flew out, and then, pulling back the pine boughs, he saw no signs of a previous occupation. "it's just waiting for us, al, old fellow," he said gayly, "but nothing of this kind is so good that it can't be made better. look at all those dead leaves over there under the oaks. been drying ever since last year and full of warmth." they raked the dead leaves into the nook, covering the floor of it thickly, and piling them up on the sides as high as they would stay, and then they lay down inside, letting the pine boughs in front fall back into place. it was really warm and cozy in there for two boys who had been living out of doors for weeks, and dick drew a deep, long breath of content. "suppose a panther should come snooping along," said albert, "and think this the proper place for his bed and board?" "he'd never come in, don't you fear. he'd smell us long before he got here, and then strike out in the other direction." albert was silent quite a while, and as he made no noise, dick thought he was asleep. but albert spoke at last, though he spoke low and his tone was very solemn. "dick," he said, "we've really got a lot to be thankful for. you know that." "i certainly do," said dick with emphasis. "now you go to sleep, al." albert was silent again, and presently his breathing became very steady and regular. dick touched him and saw that he was fast asleep. then the older boy took off his coat and carefully spread it on the younger, after which he raked a great lot of the dry leaves over himself, and soon he, too, was sound asleep. dick awoke far in the night and stirred in his bed of leaves. but the movement caused him a little pain, and he wondered dimly, because he had not yet fully come through the gates of sleep, and he did not remember where he was or what had happened. a tiny shaft of pale light fell on his forehead, and he looked up through pine branches. it was the moon that sent the beam down upon him, but he could see nothing else. he stirred again and the little pain returned. then all of it came back to him. dick reached out his hand and touched albert. his brother was sleeping soundly, and he was still warm, the coat having protected him. but dick was cold, despite the pines, the rocks, and the leaves. it was the cold that had caused the slight pain in his joints when he moved, but he rose softly lest he wake albert, and slipped outside, standing in a clear space between the pines. the late moon was of uncommon brilliancy. it seemed a molten mass of burnished silver, and its light fell over forest and valley, range and peak. the trees on the slopes stood out like lacework, but far down in the valley the light seemed to shimmer like waves on a sea of silver mist. it was all inexpressibly cold, and of a loneliness that was uncanny. nothing stirred, not a twig, not a blade of grass. it seemed to dick that if even a leaf fell on the far side of the mountain he could hear it. it was a great, primeval world, voiceless and unpeopled, brooding in a dread and mystic silence. dick shivered. he had shivered often that night, but now the chill went to the marrow. it was the chill the first man must have felt when he was driven from the garden and faced the globe-girdling forest. he came back to the rock covert and leaned over until he could hear his brother breathing beneath the pine boughs. then he felt the surge of relief, of companionship--after all, he was not alone in the wilderness!--and returned to the clear space between the pines. there he walked up and down briskly, swinging his arms, exercising all his limbs, until the circulation was fully restored and he was warm again. dick felt the immensity of the problem that lay before him--one that he alone must solve if it were to be solved at all. he and albert had escaped the massacre, but how were they to live in that wilderness of mountains? it was not alone the question of food. how were they to save themselves from death by exposure? those twinges in his knees had been warning signs. oddly enough, his mind now fastened upon one thing. he was longing for the lost buffalo robe, his first great prize. it had been so large and so warm, and the fur was so soft. it would cover both albert and himself, and keep them warm on the coldest night. if they only had it now! he thought more of that robe just then than he did of the food that they would need in the morning. cast forth upon a primeval world, this first want occupied his mind to the exclusion of all others. he returned to the rocky alcove presently, and lay down again. he was too young and too healthy to remain awake long, despite the full measure of their situation, and soon he slept soundly once more. he was first to awake in the morning, and the beam that struck upon his forehead was golden instead of silver. it was warm, too, and cheerful, and as dick parted the branches and looked out, he saw that the sun was riding high. it had been daylight a full three hours at least, but it did not matter. time was perhaps the only commodity of which he and albert now had enough and to spare. he took his coat off albert and put it on himself, lest albert might suspect, and then began to sing purposely, with loudness and levity, an old farm rhyme that had been familiar to the boys of his vicinity: "wake up, jake, the day is breaking. the old cow died, her tail shaking." albert sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stared at dick and the wilderness. "now look at him!" cried dick. "he thinks he's been called too early. he thinks he'd like to sleep eight or ten hours longer! get up, little boy! yes, it's christmas morning! come and see what good old santa has put in your stocking!" albert yawned again and laughed. really, dick was such a cheerful, funny fellow that he always kept one in good spirits. good old dick! "old santa filled our stockings, all right," continued dick, "but he was so busy cramming 'em full of great forests and magnificent scenery that he forgot to leave any breakfast for us, and i'm afraid we'll have to hustle for it." they started down the mountain slope, and presently they came to a swift little brook, in which they bathed their faces, removing, at the same time, fragments of twigs and dried leaves from their hair. "that was fine and refreshing," said dick, "but it doesn't fill my stomach. al, i could bite a tenpenny nail in half and digest both pieces, too." "i don't care for nails," said albert, "but i think i could gnaw down a good-sized sapling. hold me, dick, or i'll be devouring a pine tree." both laughed, and put as good a face on it as they could, but they were frightfully hungry, nevertheless. but they had grown up on farms, and they knew that the woods must contain food of some kind or other. they began a search, and after a while they found wild plums, now ripe, which they ate freely. they then felt stronger and better, but, after all, it was a light diet and they must obtain food of more sustenance. "there are deer, of course, in this valley," said dick, fingering his rifle, "and sooner or later we'll get a shot at one of them, but it may be days, and--al--i've got another plan." "what is it?" "you know, al, that i can travel pretty fast anywhere. now those sioux, after cutting down the train and wiping out all the people, would naturally go away. they'd load themselves up with spoil and scoot. but a lot, scattered here and there, would be left behind. some of the teams would run away in all the shooting and shouting. and, al, you and i need those things! we must have them if we are going to live, and we both want to live!" "do you mean, dick, that you're going back down there in that awful pass?" "that's just about what i had on my mind," replied dick cheerfully; "and now i've got it off, i feel better." "but you can never get back alive, dick!" exclaimed albert, his eyes widening in horror at the memory of what they had seen and heard the night before. "get back alive? why, of course i will," responded dick. "and i'll do more than that, too. you'll see me come galloping up the mountain, bearing hogsheads and barrels of provisions. but, seriously, al, it must be done. if i don't go, we'll starve to death." "then i'm going, too." "no, al, old boy, you're not strong enough just yet, though you will be soon. there are certainly no sioux in this little valley, and it would be well if you were to go back up the slope and stay in the pine shelter. it's likely that i'll be gone nearly all day, but don't be worried. you'll have one of the rifles with you, and you know how to use it." albert had a clear and penetrating mind, and he saw the truth of dick's words. they went back up the slope, where he crept within the pine shelter and lay down on the leaves, while dick went alone on his mission. chapter iv treasure-trove when dick passed the crest of the ridge and began the descent toward the fatal pass, his heart beat heavily. the terror and shock of the night before, those distant shots and shouts, returned to him, and it was many minutes before he could shake off a dread that was almost superstitious in its nature. but youth, health, and the sunlight conquered. the day was uncommonly brilliant. the mountains rolled back, green on the slopes, blue at the crests, and below him, like a brown robe, lay the wavering plain across which they had come. dick could see no sign of human life down there. no rejoicing sioux warrior galloped over the swells, no echo of a triumphant war whoop came to his ear. over mountain and plain alike the silence of the desert brooded. but high above the pass great black birds wheeled on lazy pinions. dick believed more strongly than ever that the sioux had gone away. savage tribes do not linger over a battlefield that is finished; yet as he reached the bottom of the slope his heart began to beat heavily again, and he was loath to leave the protecting shadow of the pines. he fingered his rifle, passing his hand gently over the barrel and the trigger. it was a fine weapon, a beautiful weapon, and just at this moment it was a wonderful weapon. he felt in its full force, for the first time in his life, what the rifle meant to the pioneer. the boy, after much hesitation and a great searching of eye and ear, entered the pass. at once the sunlight dimmed. walls as straight as the side of a house rose above him three of four hundred feet, while the distance between was not more than thirty feet. dwarf pines grew here and there in the crannies of the cliffs, but mostly the black rock showed. dwarf pines also grew at the bottom of the pass close to either cliff, and dick kept among them, bending far down and advancing very slowly. fifty yards were passed, and still there was no sound save a slight moaning through the pass, which dick knew was the sigh of the wind drawn into the narrow cleft. it made him shudder, and had he not been of uncommon courage he would have turned back. he looked up. the great black birds, wheeling on lazy pinions, seemed to have sunk lower. that made him shudder, too, but it was another confirmation of his belief that all the sioux had gone. he went eight or ten yards farther and then stopped short. before him lay two dead horses and an overturned wagon. both horses had been shot, and were still in their gear attached to the wagon. dick examined the wagon carefully, and as he yet heard and saw no signs of a human being save himself, his courage grew. it was a big wagon of the kind used for crossing the plains, with boxes around the inside like lockers. almost everything of value had been taken by the sioux, but in one of the lockers dick was lucky enough to find a large, heavy, gray blanket. he rolled it up at once, and with a strap cut from the horse's gear tied it on his back, after the fashion of a soldier on the march. "the first great treasure!" he murmured exultantly. "now for the next!" he found in the same wagon, jammed under the driver's seat and hidden from hasty view, about the half of a side of bacon--ten pounds, perhaps. dick fairly laughed when he got his hands upon it, and he clasped it lovingly, as if it were a ten-pound nugget of pure gold. but it was far better than gold just then. he wrapped it in a piece of canvas which he cut from the cover of the wagon, and tied it on his back above the blanket. finding nothing more of value in the wagon, he resumed his progress up the pass. it was well for dick that he was stout-hearted, and well for him, too, that he was driven by great need, else he would surely have gone back. he was now come into the thick of it. around him everywhere lay the fallen, and the deeds done in indian warfare were not lacking. sam conway lay upon his side, and brutal as the man had been, dick felt grief when he saw him. here were others, too, that he knew, and he counted the bodies of the few women who had been with the train. they had died probably in the battle like the rest. they, like the men, had been hardened, rough, and coarse of speech and act, but dick felt grief, too, when he saw them. nearly all the animals had been slain also in the fury of the attack, and they were scattered far up the pass. dick resolutely turned his face away from the dead and began to glean among the wagons for what the sioux might have left. all these wagons were built like the first that he had searched, and he was confident that he would find much of value. nor was he disappointed. he found three more blankets, and in their own wagon the buffalo robe that he had lamented. doubtless, its presence there was accounted for by the fact that the sioux did not consider a buffalo robe a trophy of their victory over white men. other treasures were several boxes of crackers, about twenty boxes of sardines, three flasks of brandy, suitable for illness, a heavy riding cloak, a virginia ham, two boxes of matches, a small iron skillet, and an empty tin canteen. he might have searched further, but he realized that time was passing, and that albert must be on the verge of starvation. he had forgotten his own hunger in the excitement of seek and find, but it came back now and gnawed at him fiercely. yet he would not touch any of the food. no matter how great the temptation he would not take a single bite until albert had the same chance. he now made all his treasures into one great package, except the buffalo robe. that was too heavy to add to the others, and he tied it among the boughs of a pine, where the wolves could not reach it. then, with the big pack on his back, he began the return. it was more weight than he would have liked to carry at an ordinary time, but now in his elation he scarcely felt it. he went rapidly up the slope and by the middle of the afternoon was going down the other side. as he approached the pine alcove he whistled a familiar tune, popular at the time--"silver threads among the gold." he knew that albert, if he were there--and he surely must be there--would recognize his whistle and come forth. he stopped, and his heart hammered for a moment, but albert's whistle took up the second line of the air and albert himself came forth jauntily. "we win, al, old boy!" called dick. "just look at this pack!" "i can't look at anything else," replied albert in the same joyful tones. "it's so big that i don't see you under it. dick, have you robbed a treasure ship?" "no, al," replied dick, very soberly. "i haven't robbed a treasure ship, but i've been prowling with success over a lost battlefield--a ghoul i believe they call such a person, but it had to be done. i've enough food here to last a week at least, and we may find more." he put down his pack and took out the bacon. as albert looked at it he began unconsciously to clinch and unclinch his teeth. dick saw his face, and, knowing that the same eager look was in his own, he laughed a little. "al," he said, "you and i know now how wolves often feel, but we're not going to behave like wolves. we're going to light a fire and cook this bacon. we'll take the risk of the flame or smoke being seen by sioux. in so vast a country the chances are all in our favor." they gathered up pine cones and other fallen wood, and with the help of the matches soon had a fire. then they cut strips of bacon and fried them on the ends of sharpened sticks, the sputter making the finest music in their ears. never before had either tasted food so delicious, and they ate strip after strip. dick noticed with pleasure how the color came into albert's cheeks, and how his eyes began to sparkle. sleeping under the pines seemed to have benefited instead of injuring him, and certainly there was a wonderful healing balm in the air of that pine-clad mountain slope. dick could feel it himself. how strong he was after eating! he shook his big shoulders. "what are you bristling up about?" asked albert. "merely getting ready to start again," replied dick. "you know the old saying, al, 'you've got to hit while the iron's hot.' more treasure is down there in the pass, but if we wait it won't stay there. everything that we get now is worth more to us than diamonds." "it's so," said albert, and then he sighed sadly as he added, "how i wish i were strong enough to go with you and help!" "just you wait," said dick. "you'll be as strong as a horse in a month, and then you'll have to do all the work and bring me my breakfast in the morning as i lie in bed. besides, you'd have to stay here and guard the treasure that we already have. better get into the pine den. bears and wolves may be drawn by the scent of the food, and they might think of attacking you." they put out the fire, and while albert withdrew into the pine shelter, dick started again over the mountain. the sun was setting blood red in the west, and in the east the shadows of twilight were advancing. it required a new kind of courage to enter the pass in the night, and dick's shudders returned. at certain times there is something in the dark that frightens the bravest and those most used to it. dick hurried. he knew the way down the mountain now, and after the food and rest he was completely refreshed. but as fast as he went the shadows of twilight came faster, and when he reached the bottom of the mountain it was quite dark. the plain before him was invisible, and the forest on the slope behind him was a solid robe of black. dick set foot in the pass and then stopped. it was not dread but awe that thrilled him in every vein. he saw nothing before him but the well of darkness that was the great slash in the mountains. the wind, caught between the walls, moaned as in the day, and he knew perfectly well what if was, but it had all the nature of a dirge, nevertheless. overhead a few dim stars wavered in a dusky sky. dick forced himself to go on. it required now moral, as well as physical, courage to approach that lost battlefield lying under its pall of night. never was the boy a greater hero than at that moment. he advanced slowly. a bush caught him by the coat and held him an instant. he felt as if he had been seized in a man's grasp. he reached the first wagon, and it seemed to him, broken and rifled, an emblem of desolation. as he passed it a strange, low, whining cry made his backbone turn to ice. but he recovered and forced an uneasy little laugh at himself. it was only a wolf, the mean coyote of the prairies! he came now into the space where the mass of the wagons and the fallen lay. dark figures, low and skulking, darted away. more wolves! but one, a huge timber wolf, with a powerful body and long fangs, stood up boldly and stared at him with red eyes. dick's own eyes were used to the darkness now, and he stared back at the wolf, which seemed to be giving him a challenge. he half raised his rifle, but the monster did not move. it was a stranger to guns, and this wilderness was its own. it was dick's first impulse to fire at the space between the red eyes, but he restrained it. he had not come there to fight with wolves, nor to send the report of a shot through the mountains. he picked up a stone and threw it at the wolf, striking him on the flank. the monster turned and stalked sullenly away, showing but little sign of fear. dick pursued his task, and as he advanced something rose and, flapping heavily, sailed away. the shiver came again, but his will stopped it. he was now in the center of the wreckage, which in the darkness looked as if it had all happened long ago. nearly every wagon had been turned over, and now and then dark forms lay between the wheels. the wind moaned incessantly down the pass and over the ruin. overcoming his repulsion, dick went to work. the moon was now coming out and he could see well enough for his task. there was still much gleaning left by the quick raiders, and everything would be of use to albert and himself, even to the very gear on the fallen animals. he cut off a great quantity of this at once and put it in a heap at the foot of the cliff. then he invaded the wagons and again brought forth treasures better than gold. he found in one side box some bottles of medicine, the simple remedies of the border, which he packed very carefully, and in another he discovered half a sack of flour--fifty pounds, perhaps. a third rewarded him with a canister of tea and a twenty-pound bag of ground coffee. he clutched these treasures eagerly. they would be invaluable to albert. continuing his search, he was rewarded with two pairs of heavy shoes, an ax, a hatchet, some packages of pins, needles, and thread, and a number of cooking utensils--pots, kettles, pans, and skillets. just as he was about to quit for the purpose of making up his pack, he noticed in one of the wagons a long, narrow locker made into the side and fastened with a stout padlock. the wagon had been plundered, but evidently the sioux had balked at the time this stout box would take for opening, and had passed on. dick, feeling sure that it must contain something of value, broke the padlock with the head of the ax. when he looked in he uttered a cry of delight at his reward. he brought forth from the box a beautiful double-barreled breech-loading shotgun, and the bounty of chance did not stop with the gun, for in the locker were over a thousand cartridges to fit it. dick foresaw at once that it would be invaluable to albert and himself in the pursuit of wild ducks, wild geese, and other feathered game. he removed some of the articles from his pack, which was already heavy enough, and put the shotgun and cartridges in their place. then he set forth on the return journey. as he left the wagons and went toward the mouth of the pass, he heard soft, padding sounds behind him, and knew that the wolves were returning, almost on his heels. he looked back once, and saw a pair of fiery red eyes which he felt must belong to the monster, the timber wolf, but dick was no longer under the uncanny spell of the night and the place; he was rejoicing too much in his new treasures, like a miser who has just added a great sum to his hoard, to feel further awe of the wolves, the darkness, and a new battlefield. dick's second pack was heavier than his first, but as before, he trod lightly. he took a different path when he left the pass, and here in the moonlight, which was now much brighter, he saw the trace of wheels on the earth. the trace ran off irregularly through the short bushes and veered violently to and fro like the path of a drunken man. dick inferred at once that it had been made, not by a wagon entering the pass, but by one leaving it, and in great haste. no doubt the horses or mules had been running away in fright at the firing. dick's curiosity was excited. he wished to see what had become of that wagon. the trail continued to lead through the short bushes that covered the plain just before entering the pass, and then turned off sharply to the right, where it led to an abrupt little canyon or gully about ten feet deep. the gully also was lined with bushes, and at first dick could see nothing else, but presently he made out a wagon lying on its side. no horses or mules were there; undoubtedly, they had torn themselves loose from the gear in time to escape the fall. dick laid down his pack and descended to the wagon. he believed that in such a place it had escaped the plundering hands of the hasty sioux, and his belief was correct. the wagon, a large one, was loaded with all the articles necessary for the passage of the plains. although much tossed about by the fall, nothing was hurt. here was a treasure-trove, indeed! dick's sudden sense of wealth was so overpowering that he felt a great embarrassment. how was he to take care of such riches? he longed at that moment for the strength of twenty men, that he might take it all at once and go over the mountain to albert. it was quite a quarter of an hour before he was able to compose himself thoroughly. then he made a hasty examination of the wagon, so far as its position allowed. he found in it a rifle of the same pattern as that used by albert and himself, a sixteen-shot repeater, the most advanced weapon of the time, and a great quantity of cartridges to fit. there was also two of the new revolvers, with sufficient cartridges, another ax, hatchets, saws, hammers, chisels, and a lot of mining tools. the remaining space in the wagon was occupied by clothing, bedding, provisions, and medicines. dick judged that the wolves could not get at the wagon as it lay, and leaving it he began his third ascent of the slope. he found albert sound asleep in the pine alcove with his rifle beside him. he looked so peaceful that dick was careful not to awaken him. he stored the second load of treasure in the alcove, and, wrapping one of the heavy blankets around himself, slept heavily. he told albert the next day of the wagon in the gully, and nothing could keep him from returning in the morning for salvage. he worked there two or three days, carrying heavy loads up the mountain, and finally, when it was all in their den, he and albert felt equipped for anything. nor had the buffalo robe been neglected. it was spread over much of the treasure. albert, meanwhile, had assumed the functions of cook, and he discharged them with considerable ability. his strength was quite sufficient to permit of his collecting firewood, and he could fry bacon and make coffee and tea beautifully. but they were very sparing of the coffee and tea, as they also were of the flour, although their supplies of all three of these were greatly increased by the wagon in the gully. in fact, the very last thing that dick had brought over the mountain was a hundred-pound sack of flour, and after accomplishing this feat he had rested a long time. both boys felt that they had been remarkably fortunate while this work was going on. one circumstance, apparently simple in itself, had been a piece of great luck, and that was the absence of rain. it was not a particularly rainy country, but a shower could have made them thoroughly miserable, and, moreover, would have been extremely dangerous for albert. but nights and days alike remained dry and cool, and as albert breathed the marvelous balsamic air he could almost feel himself transfused with its healing property. meanwhile, the color in his cheeks was steadily deepening. "we've certainly had good fortune," said dick. "aided by your courage and strength," said albert. "it took a lot of nerve to go down there in that pass and hunt for what the sioux might have left behind." dick disclaimed any superior merit, but he said nothing of the many tremors that he felt while performing the great task. an hour or two later, albert, who was hunting through their belongings, uttered a cry of joy on finding a little package of fishhooks. string they had among their stores, and it was easy enough to cut a slim rod for a pole. "now i can be useful for something besides cooking," he said. "it doesn't require any great strength to be a fisherman, and i'm much mistaken if i don't soon have our table supplied with trout." there was a swift creek farther down the slope, and, angling with much patience, albert succeeded in catching several mountain trout and a larger number of fish of an unknown species, but which, like the trout, were very good to eat. albert's exploit caused him intense satisfaction, and dick rejoiced with him, not alone because of the fish, but also because of his brother's triumph. chapter v the lost valley they spent a week on the slope, sleeping securely and warmly under their blankets in the pine alcove, and fortune favored them throughout that time. it did not rain once, and there was not a sign of the sioux. dick did not revisit the pass after the first three days, and he knew that the wolves and buzzards had been busy there. but he stripped quite clean the wagon which had fallen in the gully, even carrying away the canvas cover, which was rainproof. albert wondered that the sioux had not returned, but dick had a very plausible theory to account for it. "the sioux are making war upon our people," he said, "and why should they stay around here? they have cut off what is doubtless the first party entering this region in a long time, and now they have gone eastward to meet our troops. beside, the sioux are mostly plains indians, and they won't bother much about these mountains. other indians, through fear of the sioux, will not come and live here, which accounts for this region being uninhabited." "still a wandering band of sioux might come through at any time and see us," said albert. "that's so, and for other reasons, too, we must move. it's mighty fine, al, sleeping out in the open when the weather's dry and not too cold, but i've read that the winter in the northwestern mountains is something terrible, and we've got to prepare for it." it was dick's idea to go deeper into the mountains. he knew very well that the chance of their getting out before spring were too slender to be considered, and he believed that they could find better shelter and a more secure hiding place farther in. so he resolved upon a journey of exploration, and though albert was now stronger, he must go alone. it was his brother's duty to remain and guard their precious stores. already bears and mountain lions, drawn by the odors of the food, had come snuffing about the alcove, but they always retreated from the presence of either of the brothers. one huge silver tip had come rather alarmingly close, but when dick shouted at him he, too, turned and lumbered off among the pines. "what you want to guard against, al," said dick, "is thieves rather than robbers. look out for the sneaks. we'll fill the canteen and all our iron vessels with water so that you won't have to go even to the brook. then you stay right here by the fire in the daytime, and in the den at night. you can keep a bed of coals before the den when you're asleep, and no wild animal will ever come past it." "all right, dick," said albert courageously; "but don't you get lost over there among those ranges and peaks." "i couldn't do it if i tried," replied dick in the same cheerful tone. "you don't know what a woodsman and mountaineer i've become, al, old boy!" albert smiled. yet each boy felt the full gravity of the occasion when the time for dick's departure came, at dawn of a cool morning, gleams of silver frost showing here and there on the slopes. both knew the necessity of the journey, however, and hid their feelings. "be back to-morrow night, al," said dick. "be ready for you, dick," said albert. then they waved their hands to each other, and dick strode away toward the higher mountains. he was well armed, carrying his repeating rifle and the large hunting knife which was useful for so many purposes. he had also thrust one of the revolvers into his belt. flushed with youth and strength, and equipped with such good weapons, he felt able to take care of himself in any company into which he might be thrown. he reached the bottom of the slope, and looking back, saw albert standing on a fallen log. his brother was watching him and waved his hand. dick waved his in reply, and then, crossing the creek, began the ascent of the farther slope. there the pines and the distance rendered the brothers invisible to each other, and dick pressed on with vigor. his recent trips over the lower slopes for supplies had greatly increased his skill in mountain climbing, and he did not suffer from weariness. up, up, he went, and the pines grew shorter and scrubbier. but the thin, crisp air was a sheer delight, and he felt an extraordinary pleasure in mere living. dick looked back once more from the heights toward the spot where their camp lay and saw lying against the blue a thin gray thread that only the keenest eye would notice. he knew it to be the smoke from albert's fire and felt sure that all was well. while the slope which he was ascending was fairly steep, it was easy enough to find a good trail among the pines. there was little undergrowth and the ascent was not rocky. when dick stood at last on the crest of the ridge he uttered a cry of delight and amazement. the slope on which he stood was merely a sort of gate to the higher mountains, or rather it was a curtain hiding the view. before him, range on range and peak on peak, lay mighty mountains, some of them shooting up almost three miles above the sea, their crests and heads hid in eternal snow. far away to northward and westward stretched the tremendous maze, and it seemed to dick to have no end. a cold, dazzling sunlight poured in floods over the snowy summits, and he felt a great sense of awe. it was all so grand, so silent, and so near to the infinite. he saw the full majesty of the world and of the power that had created it. for a little while his mission and all human passions and emotions floated away from him; he was content merely to stand there, without thinking, but to feel the immensity and majesty of it all. dick presently recovered himself and with a little laugh came back to earth. but he was glad to have had those moments. he began the descent, which was rougher and rockier than the ascent had been, but the prospect was encouraging. the valley between the ridge on the slope of which he stood and the higher one beyond it seemed narrow, but he believed that he would find in it the shelter and hiding that he and albert wished. as he went down the slope became steeper, but once more the pines, sheltered from the snows and cruel winds, grew to a great size. there was also so much outcropping of rock that dick was hopeful of finding another alcove deep enough to be converted into a house. when nearly down, he caught a gleam among the trees that he knew was water, and again he was encouraged. here was a certainty of one thing that was an absolute necessity. soon he was in the valley, which he found exceedingly narrow and almost choked with a growth of pine, ash, and aspen, a tiny brook flowing down its center. he was tired and warm from the long descent and knelt down and drank from the brook. its waters were as cold as ice, flowing down from the crest of one of the great peaks clad, winter and summer, in snow. dick followed the brook for fully a mile, seeking everywhere a suitable place in which he and his brother might make a home, but he found none. the valley resembled in most of its aspects a great canyon, and all the fertile earth on either side of the brook was set closely with pine, ash, and aspen. these would form a shelter from winds, but they would not protect from rain and the great colds and snows of the high rockies. dick noticed many footprints of animals at the margin of the stream, some of great size, which he had no doubt were made by grizzlies or silver tips. he also believed that the beaver might be found farther down along this cold and secluded water, but he was not interested greatly just then in animals; he was seeking for that most necessary of all things--something that must be had--a home. it seemed to him at the end of his estimated mile that the brook was going to flow directly into the mountain which rose before him many hundreds of feet; but when he came to the rocky wall he found that the valley turned off at a sharp angle to the left, and the stream, of course, followed it, although it now descended more rapidly, breaking three times into little foamy falls five or six feet in height. then another brook came from a deep cleft between the mountains on the eastern side and swelled with its volume the main stream, which now became a creek. the new valley widened out to a width of perhaps a quarter of a mile, although the rocky walls on either side rose to a great height and were almost precipitous. springs flowed from these walls and joined the creek. some of them came down the face of the cliffs in little cascades of foam and vapor, but others spouted from the base of the rock. dick knelt down to drink from one of the latter, but as his face approached the water he jumped away. he dipped up a little of it in his soft hat and tasted it. it was brackish and almost boiling hot. dick was rather pleased at the discovery. a bitter and hot spring might be very useful. he had imbibed--like many others--from the teaching of his childhood that any bitter liquid was good for you. as he advanced farther the valley continued to spread out. it was now perhaps a half mile in width, and well wooded. the creek became less turbulent, flowing with a depth of several feet in a narrow channel. the whole aspect of the valley so far had been that of a wilderness uninhabited and unvisited. a mule deer looked curiously at dick, then walked away a few paces and stood there. when dick glanced back his deership was still curious and gazing. a bear crashed through a thicket, stared at the boy with red eyes, then rolled languidly away. dick was quick to interpret these signs. they were unfamiliar with human presence, and he was cheered by the evidence. yet at the end of another hundred yards of progress he sank down suddenly among some bushes and remained perfectly silent, but intently watchful. he had seen a column of smoke rising above the pines and aspens. smoke meant fire, fire meant human beings, and human beings, in that region, meant enemies. he had no doubt that sioux were at the foot of that column of smoke. it was a tragic discovery. he was looking for a home for albert and himself somewhere in this valley, but there could be no home anywhere near the sioux. he and his brother must turn in another direction, and with painful effort lug their stores over the ridges. but dick was resolved to see. there were great springs of courage and tenacity in his nature, and he wished, moreover, to prove his new craft as a woodsman and mountaineer. he remained awhile in the bushes, watching the spire, and presently, to his amazement, it thinned quickly and was gone. it had disappeared swiftly, while the smoke from a fire usually dies down. it was dick's surmise that the sioux had put out their fire by artificial means and then had moved on. such an act would indicate a fear of observation, and his curiosity increased greatly. but dick did not forget his caution. he crouched in the bushes for quite a while yet, watching the place where the smoke had been, but the sky remained clear and undefiled. he heard nothing and saw nothing but the lonely valley. at last he crept forward slowly, and with the greatest care, keeping among bushes and treading very softly. he advanced in this manner three or four hundred yards, to the very point which must have been the base of the spire of smoke--he had marked it so well that he could not be mistaken--and from his leafy covert saw a large open space entirely destitute of vegetation. he expected to see there also the remains of a camp fire, but none was visible, not a single charred stick, nor a coal. dick was astonished. a new and smoking camp fire must leave some trace. one could not wipe it away absolutely. he remained a comparatively long time, watching in the edge of the bushes beside the wide and open space. he still saw and heard nothing. never before had a camp fire vanished so mysteriously and completely, and with it those who had built it. at last, his curiosity overcoming his caution, he advanced into the open space, and now saw that it fell away toward the center. advancing more boldly, he found himself near the edge of a deep pit. the pit was almost perfectly round and had a diameter of about ten feet. so far as dick could judge, it was about forty feet deep and entirely empty. it looked like a huge well dug by the hand of man. while dick was gazing at the pit, an extraordinary and terrifying thing happened. the earth under his feet began to shake. at first he could not believe it, but when he steadied himself and watched closely, the oscillating motion was undoubtedly there. it was accompanied, too, by a rumble, dull and low, but which steadily grew louder. it seemed to dick that the round pit was the center of this sound. despite the quaking of the earth, he ventured again into the open space and saw that the pit had filled with water. moreover, this water was boiling, as he could see it seething and bubbling. as he looked, clouds of steam shot up to a height of two or three hundred feet, and dick, in alarm, ran back to the bushes. he knew that this was the column of vapor he had first seen from a distance, but he was not prepared for what followed. there was an explosion so loud that it made dick jump. then a great column of water shot up from the boiling pit to a height of perhaps fifty feet, and remained there rising and falling. from the apex of this column several great jets rose, perhaps, three times as high. the column of hot water glittered and shimmered in the sun, and dick gazed in wonder and delight. he had read enough to recognize the phenomenon that he now saw. it was a geyser, a column of hot water shooting up, at regular intervals and with great force, from the unknown deeps of the earth. as he gazed, the column gradually sank, the boiling water in the pit sank, too, and there was no longer any rumble or quaking of the earth. dick cautiously approached the pit again. it was as empty as a dry well, but he knew that in due time the phenomenon would be repeated. he was vastly interested, but he did not wait to see the recurrence of the marvel, continuing his way down the valley over heaps of crinkly black slag and stone, which were age-old lava, although he did not know it, and through groves of pine and ash, aspen, and cedar. he saw other round pits and watched a second geyser in eruption. he saw, too, numerous hot springs, and much steamy vapor floating about. there were also mineral springs and springs of the clearest and purest cold water. it seemed to dick that every minute of his wanderings revealed to him some new and interesting sight, while on all sides of the little valley rose the mighty mountains, their summits in eternal snow. a great relief was mingled with the intense interest that dick felt. he had been sure at first that he saw the camp fires of the sioux, but after the revulsion it seemed as if it were a place never visited by man, either savage or civilized. as he continued down the valley, he noticed narrow clefts in the mountains opening into them from either side, but he felt sure from the nature of the country that they could not go back far. the clefts were four in number, and down two of them came considerable streams of clear, cold water emptying into the main creek. the valley now narrowed again and dick heard ahead a slight humming sound which presently grew into a roar. he was puzzled at first, but soon divined the cause. the creek, or rather little river, much increased in volume by the tributary brooks, made a great increase of speed in its current. dick saw before him a rising column of vapor and foam, and in another minute or two stood beside a fine fall, where the little river took a sheer drop of forty feet, then rushed foaming and boiling through a narrow chasm, to empty about a mile farther on into a beautiful blue lake. dick, standing on a high rock beside the fall, could see the lake easily. its blue was of a deep, splendid tint, and on every side pines and cedars thickly clothed the narrow belt of ground between it and the mountains. the far end seemed to back up abruptly against a mighty range crowned with snow, but dick felt sure that an outlet must be there through some cleft in the range. the lake itself was of an almost perfect crescent shape, and dick reckoned its length at seven miles, with a greatest breadth, that is, at the center, of about two miles. he judged, too, from its color and its position in a fissure that its depth must be very great. the surface of the lake lay two or three hundred feet lower than the rock on which dick was standing, and he could see its entire expanse, rippling gently under the wind and telling only of peace and rest. flocks of wild fowl flew here and there, showing white or black against the blue of its waters, and at the nearer shore dick thought he saw an animal like a deer drinking, but the distance was too great to tell certainly. he left the rock and pursued his way through dwarf pines and cedars along the edge of the chasm in which the torrent boiled and foamed, intending to go down to the lake. halfway he stopped, startled by a long, shrill, whistling sound that bore some resemblance to the shriek of a distant locomotive. the wilderness had been so silent before that the sound seemed to fill all the valley, the ridges taking it up and giving it back in one echo after another until it died away among the peaks. in a minute or so the whistling shriek was repeated and then two or three times more. dick was not apprehensive. it was merely a new wonder in that valley of wonders, and none of these wonders seemed to have anything to do with man. the sound apparently came from a point two or three hundred yards to his left at the base of the mountain, and turning, dick went toward it, walking very slowly and carefully through the undergrowth. he had gone almost the whole distance seeing nothing but the mountain and the forest, when the whistling shriek was suddenly repeated so close to him that he jumped. he sank down behind a dwarf pine, and then he saw not thirty feet away the cause of the sound. a gigantic deer, a great grayish animal, stood in a little open space, and at intervals emitted that tremendous whistle. it stood as high as a horse, and dick estimated its weight at more than a thousand pounds. he was looking at a magnificent specimen of the rocky mountain elk, by far the largest member of the deer tribe that he had ever seen. the animal, the wind blowing from him toward dick, was entirely unsuspicious of danger, and the boy could easily have put a bullet into his heart, but he had no desire to do so. whether the elk was whistling to his mate or sending a challenge to a rival bull he did not know, and after watching and admiring him for a little while he crept away. but dick was not wholly swayed by sentiment. he said to himself as he went away among the pines: "don't you feel too safe, mr. elk, we'll have to take you or some of your brethren later on. i've heard that elk meat is good." he resumed his journey and was soon at the edge of the lake, which at this point had a narrow sandy margin. its waters were fresh and cold, and wold duck, fearless of dick, swam within a few yards of him. the view here was not less majestic and beautiful than it had been from the rock, and dick, sensitive to nature, was steeped in all its wonder and charm. he was glad to be there, he was glad that chance or providence had led him to this lovely valley. he felt no loneliness, no fear for the future, he was content merely to breathe and feel the glory of it permeate his being. he picked up a pebble presently and threw it into the lake. it sank with the sullen plunk that told unmistakably to the boy's ears of great depths below. once or twice he saw a fish leap up, and it occurred to him that here was another food supply. he suddenly pulled himself together with a jerk. he could not sit there all day dreaming. he had come to find a winter home for albert and himself, and he had not yet found it. but he had a plan from which he had been turned aside for a while by the sight of the lake, and now he went back to carry it out. there were two clefts opening into the mountains from his side of the river, and he went into the first on the return path. it was choked with pine and cedars and quickly ended against a mountain wall, proving to be nothing but a very short canyon. there was much outcropping of rock here, but nothing that would help toward a shelter, and dick went on to the second cleft. this cleft, wider than the other, was the one down which the considerable brook flowed, and the few yards or so of fertile ground on either side of the stream produced a rank growth of trees. they were so thick that the boy could see only a little distance ahead, but he believed that this slip of a tributary valley ran far back in the mountains, perhaps a dozen miles. he picked his way about a mile and then came suddenly upon a house. it stood in an alcove protected by rocks and trees, but safe from snow slide. it was only a log hut of one room, with the roof broken in and the door fallen from its hinges, but dick knew well enough the handiwork of the white man. as he approached, some wild animal darted out of the open door and crashed away among the undergrowth, but dick knew that white men had once lived there. it was equally evident that they had long been gone. it was a cabin of stout build, its thick logs fitted nicely together, and the boards of the roof had been strong and well laid. many years must have passed to have caused so much decay. dick entered and was saluted by a strong, catlike odor. doubtless a mountain lion had been sleeping there, and this was the tenant that he had heard crashing away among the undergrowth. on one side was a window closed by a sagging oaken shutter, which dick threw open. the open door and window established a draught, and as the clean sweet air blew through the cabin the odor of the cat began to disappear. dick examined everything with the greatest interest and curiosity. there was a floor of puncheons fairly smooth, a stone fireplace, a chimney of mud and sticks, dusty wooden hooks, and rests nailed into the wall, a rude table overturned in a corner, and something that looked like a trap. it was the last that told the tale to dick. when he examined it more critically, he had no doubt that it was a beaver trap. nor did he have any doubt but that this hut had been built by beaver trappers long ago, either by independent hunters, or by those belonging to one of the great fur companies. the beaver, he believed, had been found on this very brook, and when they were all taken the trappers had gone away, leaving the cabin forever, as they had left many another one. it might be at least forty years old. dick laughed aloud in his pleasure at this good luck. the cabin was dusty, dirty, disreputable, and odorous, but that draught would take away all the odors and his stout arm could soon repair the holes in the roof, put the door back on its hinges, and straighten the sagging window shutter. here was their home, a house built by white men as a home, and now about to be used as such again. dick did not feel like a tenant moving in, but like an owner. it would be a long, hard task to bring their supplies over the range but albert and he had all the time in the world. it was one of the effects of their isolation to make dick feel that there was no such thing as time. he took another survey of the cabin. it was really a splendid place, a palace in its contrast with the surrounding wilderness, and he laughed with pure delight. when it was swept and cleaned, and a fire blazing on the flat stone that served for a hearth, while the cold winds roared without, it would be the snuggest home west of the missouri. he was so pleased that he undertook at once some primary steps in the process of purification. he cut a number of small, straight boughs, tied them together with a piece of bark, the leaves at the head thus forming a kind of broom, and went to work. he raised a great dust, which the draught blew into his eyes, ears, and nose, and he retreated from the place, willing to let the wind take it away. he would finish the task some other day. then the clear waters of the brook tempted him. just above the cabin was a deep pool which may have been the home of the beaver in an older time. now it was undisturbed, and the waters were so pure that he could see the sand and rock on the bottom. still tingling from the dust, he took off his clothes and dived head foremost into the pool. he came up shivering and sputtering. it was certainly the coldest water into which he had ever leaped! after such a dash one might lie on a slab of ice to warm. dick forgot that every drop in the brook had come from melting snows far up on the peaks, but, once in, he resolved to fight the element. he dived again, jumped up and down, and kicked and thrashed those waters as no beaver had ever done. gradually he grew warm, and a wonderful exhilaration shot through every vein. then he swam around and around and across and across the pool, disporting like a young white water god. dick was thoroughly enjoying himself, but when he began to feel cold again in seven or eight minutes he sprang out, ran up and down the bank, and rubbed himself with bunches of leaves until he was dry. after he had dressed, he felt that he had actually grown in size and strength in the last half hour. he was now ravenously hungry. his absorption in his explorations and discoveries had kept him from thinking of such a thing as food until this moment, but when nature finally got in her claim she made it strong and urgent. he had brought cold supplies with him, upon which he feasted, sitting in the doorway of the cabin. then he noticed the lateness of the hour. shadows were falling across the snow on the western peaks and ridges. the golden light of the sun was turning red, and in the valley the air was growing misty with the coming twilight. he resolved to pass the night in the cabin. he secured the window shutter again, tied up the fallen door on rude bark hinges, and fastened it on the inside with a stick--hasps for the bar were there yet--but before retiring he took a long look in the direction in which albert and their camp lay. a great range of mountains lay between, but dick felt that he could almost see his brother, his camp fire, and the pine alcove. he was albert's protector, and this would be the first entire night in the mountains in which the weaker boy had been left alone, but dick was not apprehensive about him. he believed that their good fortune would still endure, and secure in that belief he rolled himself up in the blanket which he had brought in a little pack on his back, and laid himself down in the corner of the cabin. the place was not yet free from dust and odor, but dick's hardy life was teaching him to take as trifles things that civilization usually regarded as onerous, and he felt quite comfortable where he lay. he knew that it was growing cold in the gorge, and the shelter of the cabin was acceptable. he saw a little strip of wan twilight through a crack in the window, but it soon faded and pitchy darkness filled the narrow valley. dick fell into a sound sleep, from which he awoke only once in the night, and then it was a noise of something as of claws scratching at the door which stirred him. the scratch was repeated only once or twice, and with it came the sound of heavy, gasping puffs, like a big animal breathing. then the creature went away, and dick, half asleep, murmured: "i've put you out of your house, my fine friend, bear or panther, whichever you may be." in another minute he was wholly asleep again and did not waken until an edge of glittering sunlight, like a sword blade, came through the crack in the window and struck him across the eyes. he bathed a second time in the pool, ate what was left of the food, and started on the return journey, moving at a brisk pace. he made many calculations on the way. it would take a week to move all their goods over the range to the cabin, but, once there, he believed that they would be safe for a long time; indeed, they might spend years in the valley, if they wished, and never see a stranger. it was afternoon when he approached the pine alcove, but the familiar spire of smoke against the blue had assured him already that albert was there and safe. in fact, albert saw him first. he had just returned from the creek, and, standing on a rock, a fish in his hand, hailed his brother, who was coming up the slope. "halloo, dick!" he shouted. "decided to come home, have you? hope you've had a pleasant visit." "fine trip, al, old man," dick replied. "great place over there. think we'd better move to it." "that so? tell us about it." dick, ever sensitive to albert's manner and appearance, noticed that the boy's voice was fuller, and he believed that the dry, piny air of the mountains was still at its healing work. he joined albert, who was waiting for him, and who, after giving his hand a hearty grasp, told him what he had found. chapter vi castle howard albert agreed with dick that they should begin to more at once, and his imagination was greatly stirred by dick's narrative. "why, it's an enchanted valley!" he exclaimed. "and a house is there waiting for us, too! dick, i want to see it right away!" dick smiled. "sorry, but you'll have to wait a little, al, old man," he said. "you're not strong enough yet to carry stores over the big range, though you will be very soon, and we can't leave our precious things here unguarded. so you'll have to stay and act as quartermaster while i make myself pack mule. when we have all the things over there, we can fasten them up in our house, where bears, panthers, and wolves can't get at them." albert made a wry face, but he knew that he must yield to necessity. dick began the task the next morning, and it was long, tedious, and most wearing. more than once he felt like abandoning some of their goods, but he hardened his resolution with the reflection that all were precious, and not a single thing was abandoned. it was more than a week before it was all done, and it was not until the last trip that albert went with him, carrying besides his gun a small pack. the weather was still propitious. once there had been a light shower in the night, but albert was protected from it by the tarpaulin which they had made of the wagon cover, and nothing occurred to check his progress. he ate with an appetite that he had never known before, and he breathed by night as well as by day the crisp air of the mountains tingling with the balsam of the pines. it occurred to dick that to be marooned in these mountains was perhaps the best of all things that could have happened to albert. they went slowly over the range toward the enchanted valley, stopping now and then because albert, despite his improvement, was not yet equal to the task of strenuous climbing, but all things continued auspicious. there was a touch of autumn on the foliage, and the shades of red and yellow were appearing on the leaves of all the trees except the evergreens, but everything told of vigorous life. as they passed the crest of the range and began the descent of the slope toward the enchanted valley, a mule deer crashed from the covert and fled away with great bounds. flocks of birds rose with whirrings from the bushes. from some point far away came the long, whistling sound that made albert cry out in wonder. but dick laughed. "it's the elk," he said. "i saw one when i first came into the valley. i think they are thick hereabout, and i suspect that they will furnish us with some good winter food." albert found the valley all that dick had represented it to be, and more. he watched the regular eruptions of the geysers with amazement and delight; he insisted on sampling the mineral springs, and intended to learn in time their various properties. the lake, in all its shimmering aspects, appealed to his love of the grand and beautiful, and he promptly named it "the howard sea, after its discoverer, you know," he said to dick. finally, the cabin itself filled him with delight, because he foresaw even more thoroughly than dick how suitable it would be for a home in the long winter months. he installed himself as housekeeper and set to work at once. the little cabin was almost choked with their supplies, which dick had been afraid to leave outside for fear that the provisions would be eaten and the other things injured by the wild animals, and now they began the task of assorting and putting them into place. the full equipment of the wagon that dick had found in the gully, particularly the tools, proved to be a godsend. they made more racks on the walls--boring holes with the augers and then driving in pegs--on which they laid their axes and extra rifles. in the same manner they made high shelves, on which their food would be safe from prowling wild beasts, even should they succeed in breaking in the door. but dick soon made the latter impossible by putting the door on strong hinges of leather which he made from the gear that he had cut from the horses. he also split a new bar from one of the young ash trees and strengthened the hasps on the inside. he felt now that when the bar was in place not even the heaviest grizzly could force the door. the task of mending the roof was more difficult. he knew how to split rude boards with his ax, but he had only a few nails with which to hold them in place. he solved the problem by boring auger holes, into which he drove pegs made from strong twigs. the roof looked water-tight, and he intended to reenforce it later on with the skins of wild animals that he expected to kill--there had been no time yet for hunting. throughout these operations, which took about a week, they slept in the open in a rude tent which they made of the wagon cover and set beside the cabin, for two reasons: because dick believed the open air at all times to be good for albert, and because he was averse to using the cabin as a dormitory until it was thoroughly cleansed and aired. albert made himself extremely useful in the task of refurbishing the cabin. he brushed out all the dust, brought water from the brook and scrubbed the floor, and to dry the latter built their first fire on the hearth with pine cones and other fallen wood. as he touched the match to it, he did not conceal his anxiety. "the big thing to us," he said, "is whether or not this chimney will draw. that's vital, i tell you, dick, to a housekeeper. if it puffs out smoke and fills the cabin with it, we're to have a hard time and be miserable. if it draws like a porous plaster and takes all the smoke up it, then we're to have an easy time of it and be happy." both watched anxiously as albert touched the match to some pine shavings which were to form the kindling wood. the shavings caught, a light blaze leaped up, there came a warning crackle, and smoke, too, arose. which way would it go? the little column wavered a moment and then shot straight up the chimney. it grew larger, but still shot straight up the chimney. the flames roared and were drawn in the same direction. albert laughed and clapped his hands. "it's to be an easy time and a happy life!" he exclaimed. "those old beaver hunters knew what they were about when they built this chimney!" "you can cook in here, al," said dick; "but i suggest that we sleep in the tent until the weather grows bad." dick had more than one thing in mind in making this suggestion about the tent and sleeping. the air of the cabin could be close at night even with the window open, but in the tent with the flap thrown back--they never closed it--they breathed only a fresh balsamic odor, crisp with the coolness of autumn. he had watched albert all the time. now and then when he had exerted himself more than usual, the younger boy would cough, and at times he was very tired, but dick, however sharply he watched, did not see again the crimson stain on the lips that he had noticed the night of the flight from the massacre. but the older brother, two years older only, in fact, but ten years older, at least, in feeling, did notice a great change in albert, mental as well as physical. the younger boy ceased to have periods of despondency. while he could not do the things that dick did, he was improving, and he never lamented his lack of strength. it seemed to him a matter of course, so far as dick could judge, that in due time he should be the equal of the older and bigger boy in muscle and skill. albert, moreover, had no regrets for the world without. their life with the wagon train had been far from pleasant, and he had only dick, and dick had only him. now the life in the enchanted valley, which was a real valley of enchantments, was sufficient for him. each day brought forth some new wonder, some fresh and interesting detail. he was a capable fisherman, and he caught trout in both the brook and the river, while the lake yielded to his line other and larger fish, the names of which neither boy knew, but which proved to be of delicate flavor when broiled over the coals. just above them was a boiling hot spring, and albert used the water from this for cooking purposes. "hot and cold water whenever you please," he said to dick. "nothing to do but to turn the tap." dick smiled; he, too, was happy. he enjoyed life in the enchanted valley, where everything seemed to have conspired in their favor. when they had been there about a week, and their home was ready for any emergency, dick took his gun and went forth, the hunting spirit strong within him. they had heard the elk whistling on the mountain side nearly every day, and he believed that elk meat would prove tender and good. anyway he would see. dick did not feel much concern about their food supply. he believed that vast quantities of big game would come into this valley in the winter to seek protection from the mighty snows of the northern rockies, but it was just as well to begin the task of filling the larder. he came out into the main valley and turned toward the lake. autumn was now well advanced, but in the cool sunshine the lake seemed more beautiful than ever. its waters were golden to-day, but with a silver tint at the edges where the pine-clad banks overhung it. dick did not linger, however. he turned away toward the slopes, whence the whistling call had come the oftenest, and was soon among the pines and cedars. he searched here an hour or more, and at last he found two feeding, a male and a female. dick had the instinct of the hunter, and already he had acquired great skill. creeping through the undergrowth, he came within easy shot of the animals, and he looked at them a little before shooting. the bull was magnificent, and he, if any, seemed a fit subject for the bullet, but dick chose the cow, knowing that she would be the tenderer. only a single shot was needed, and then he had a great task to carry the hide and the body in sections to the cabin. they ate elk steaks and then hung the rest in the trees for drying and jerking. dick, according to his previous plan, used the skin to cover the newly mended places in the roof, fastening it down tightly with small wooden pegs. his forethought was vindicated two days later when a great storm came. both he and albert had noticed throughout the afternoon an unusual warmth in the air. it affected albert particularly, as it made his respiration difficult. over the mountains in the west they saw small dark clouds which soon began to grow and unite. dick thought he knew what it portended, and he and his brother quickly taking down the tent, carried it and all its equipment inside the cabin. then making fast the door and leaving the window open, they waited. the heat endured, but all the clouds became one that overspread the entire heavens. despite the lateness of the season, the thunder, inexpressibly solemn and majestic, rumbled among the gorges, and there was a quiver of lightening. it was as dark as twilight. the rain came, roaring down the clefts and driving against the cabin with such force that they were compelled to close the window. how thankful dick was now for albert's sake that they had such a secure shelter! nor did he despise it for his own. the rain, driven by a west wind, poured heavily, and the air rapidly grew colder. albert piled dry firewood on the hearth and lighted it. the flames leaped up, and warmth, dryness, and cheer filled all the little cabin. dick had been anxiously regarding the roof, but the new boards and the elk skin were water-tight. not a drop came through. higher leaped the flames and the rosy shadows fell upon the floor. "it's well we took the tent down and came in here," said albert. "listen to that!" the steady, driving sweep changed to a rattle and a crackle. the rain had turned to hail, and it was like the patter of rifle fire on the stout little cabin. "it may rain or hail or snow, or do whatever it pleases, but it can't get at us," said albert exultingly. "no, it can't," said dick. "i wonder, al, what bright sun is doing now?" "a peculiar indian," said albert thoughtfully, "but it's safe to say that wherever he is he's planning and acting." "at any rate," said dick, "we're not likely to know it, whatever it is, for a long time, and we won't bother trying to guess about it." it hailed for an hour and then changed to rain again, pouring down in great steadiness and volume. dick opened the window a little way once, but the night was far advanced, and it was pitchy black outside. they let the coals die down to a glowing bed, and then, wrapping themselves in their blankets, they slept soundly all through the night and the driving rain, their little cabin as precious to them as any palace was ever to a king. albert, contrary to custom, was the first to awake the next morning. a few coals from the fire were yet alive on the hearth, and the atmosphere of the room, breathed over and over again throughout the night, was close and heavy. he threw back the window shutter, and the great rush of pure cold air into the opening made his body thrill with delight. this was a physical pleasure, but the sight outside gave him a mental rapture even greater. nothing was falling now, but the rain had turned back to hail before it ceased, and all the earth was in glittering white. the trees in the valley, clothed in ice, were like lace work, and above them towered the shining white mountains. albert looked back at dick. his brother, wrapped in his blanket, still slept, with his arm under his head and his face toward the hearth. he looked so strong, so enduring, as he lay there sleeping soundly, and albert knew that he was both. but a curious feeling was in the younger boy's mind that morning. he was glad that he had awakened first. hitherto he had always opened his eyes to find dick up and doing. it was dick who had done everything. it was dick who had saved him from the sioux; it was dick who had practically carried him over the first range; dick had found their shelter in the pine alcove; dick had labored day and night, day after day, and night after night, bringing the stores over the mountain from the lost train, then he had found their new home in the enchanted valley, which albert persisted in calling it, and he had done nearly all the hard work of repairing and furnishing the cabin. it should not always be so. albert's heart was full of gratitude to this brother of his who was so brave and resourceful, but he wanted to do his share. the feeling was based partly on pride and partly on a new increase of physical strength. he took a deep inhalation of the cold mountain air and held it long in his lungs. then he emitted it slowly. there was no pain, no feeling of soreness, and it was the first time he could remember that it had been so. a new thrill of pleasure, keener and more powerful than any other, shook him for a moment. it was a belief, nay, a certainty, or at least a conviction, that he was going to be whole and sound. the mountains were doing their kindly healing. he could have shouted aloud with pleasure, but instead he restrained himself and went outside, softly shutting the door behind him. autumn had gone and winter had come in a night. the trees were stripped of every leaf and in their place was the sheathing of ice. the brook roared past, swollen for the time to a little river. the air, though very cold, was dry despite the heavy rain of the night before. albert shivered more than once, but it was not the shiver of weakness. it did not bite to the very marrow of him. instead, when he exercised legs and arms vigorously, warmth came back. he was not a crushed and shriveled thing. now he laughed aloud in sheer delight. he had subjected himself to another test, and he had passed it in triumph. he built up the fire, and when dick awoke, the pleasant aroma of cooking filled the room. "why, what's this, al?" exclaimed the big youth, rubbing his eyes. "oh, i've been up pretty near an hour," replied albert airily. "saw that you were having a fine sleep, so i thought i wouldn't disturb you." dick looked inquiringly at him. he thought he detected a new note in his brother's voice, a note, too, that he liked. "i see," he said; "and you've been at work sometime, do you feel fully equal to the task?" albert turned and faced his brother squarely. "i've been thinking a lot, and feeling a lot more this morning," he replied. "i've been trying myself out, as they say, and if i'm not well i'm traveling fast in that direction. hereafter i share the work as well as the rewards." albert spoke almost defiantly, but dick liked his tone and manner better than ever. he would not, on any account, have said anything in opposition at this moment. "all right, al, old fellow. that's agreed," he said. chapter vii an animal progression the thin sheath of ice did not last long. on the second day the sun came out and melted it in an hour. then a warm wind blew and in a few more hours the earth was dry. on the third day albert took his repeating rifle from the hooks on the wall and calmly announced that he was going hunting. "all right," said dick; "and as i feel lazy i'll keep house until you come back. don't get chewed up by a grizzly bear." dick sat down in the doorway of the cabin and watched his brother striding off down the valley, gun on shoulder, figure very erect. dick smiled; but it was a smile of pride, not derision. "good old al! he'll do!" he murmured. albert followed the brook into the larger valley and then went down by the side of the lake. though a skillful shot, he was not yet a good hunter, but he knew that one must make a beginning and he wanted to learn through his own mistakes. he had an idea that game could be found most easily in the forest that ran down the mountain side to the lake, and he was thinking most particularly just then of elk. he had become familiar with the loud, whistling sound, and he listened for it now but did not hear it. he passed the spot at which dick had killed the big cow elk and continued northward among the trees that covered the slopes and flat land between the mountain and the lake. this area broadened as he proceeded, and, although the forest was leafless now, it was so dense and there was such a large proportion of evergreens, cedars, and pines that albert could not see very far ahead. he crossed several brooks pouring down from the peaks. all were in flood, and once or twice it was all that he could do with a flying leap to clear them, but he went on, undiscouraged, keeping a sharp watch for that which he was hunting. albert did not know much about big game, but he remembered hearing dick say that elk and mule deer would be likely to come into the valley for shelter at the approach of winter, and he was hopeful that he might have the luck to encounter a whole herd of the big elk. then, indeed, he would prove that he was an equal partner with dick in the work as well as the reward. he wished to give the proof at once. he had not been so far up the north end of the valley before, and he noticed that here was quite an expanse of flat country on either side of the lake. but the mountains all around the valley were so high that it seemed to albert that deer and other wild animals might find food as well as shelter throughout the winter. hence he was quite confident, despite his poor luck so far, that he should find big game soon, and his hunting fever increased. he had never shot anything bigger than a rabbit, but albert was an impressionable boy, and his imagination at once leaped over the gulf from a rabbit to a grizzly bear. he had the lake, an immense and beautiful blue mirror, on his right and the mountains on his left, but the space between was now nearly two miles in width, sown thickly in spots with pine and cedar, ash and aspen, and in other places quite open. in the latter the grass was green despite the lateness of the season, and albert surmised that good grazing could be found there all through the winter, even under the snow. game must be plentiful there, too. the way dropped down a little into a sheltered depression, and albert heard a grunt and a great puffing breath. a huge dark animal that had been lying among some dwarf pines shuffled to its feet and albert's heart slipped right up into his throat. here was his grizzly, and he certainly was a monster! every nerve in albert was tingling, and instinct bade him run. will had a hard time of it for a few moments, struggling with instinct, but will conquered, and, standing his ground, albert fired a bullet from his repeater at the great dark mass. the animal emitted his puffing roar again and rushed, head down, but blindly. then albert saw that he had roused not a grizzly bear but an enormous bull buffalo, a shaggy, fierce old fellow who would not eat him, but who might gore or trample him to death. his aspect was so terrible that will again came near going down before instinct, but albert did not run. instead, he leaped aside, and, as the buffalo rushed past, he fired another bullet from his repeater into his body just back of the fore legs. the animal staggered, and albert staggered, too, from excitement and nervousness, but he remembered to take aim and fire again and again with his heavy repeater. in his heat and haste he did not hear a shout behind him, but he did see the great bull stagger, then reel and fall on his side, after which he lay quite still. albert stood, rifle in hand, trembling and incredulous. could it be he who had slain the mightiest buffalo that ever trod the earth? the bull seemed to his distended eyes and flushed brain to weigh ten tons at least, and to dwarf the biggest elephant. he raised his hand to his forehead and then sat down beside his trophy, overcome with weakness. "well, now, you have done it, young one! i thought i'd get a finger in this pie, but i came up too late! say, young fellow, what's your name? is it daniel boone or davy crockett?" it was dick who had followed in an apparently casual manner. he had rushed to his brother's rescue when he saw the bull charging, but he had arrived too late--and he was glad of it; the triumph was wholly albert's. albert, recovering from his weakness, looked at dick, looked at the buffalo, and then looked back at dick. all three looks were as full of triumph, glory, and pride as any boy's look could be. "he's as big as a mountain, isn't he, dick?" he said. "well, not quite that," replied dick gravely. "a good-sized hill would be a better comparison." the buffalo certainly was a monster, and the two boys examined him critically. dick was of the opinion that he belonged to the species known as the wood bison, which is not numerous among the mountains, but which is larger than the ordinary buffalo of the plains. the divergence of type, however, is very slight. "he must have been an outlaw," said dick; "a vicious old bull compelled to wander alone because of his bad manners. still, it's likely that he's not the only buffalo in our valley." "can we eat him?" asked albert. "that's a question. he's sure to be tough, but i remember how we used to make steak tender at home by beating it before it was cooked. we might serve a thousand pounds or two of this bull in that manner. besides, we want that robe." the robe was magnificent, and both boys felt that it would prove useful. dick had gained some experience from his own buffalo hunt on the plains, and they began work at once with their sharp hunting knives. it was no light task to take the skin, and the beast was so heavy that they could not get it entirely free until they partly chopped up the body with an ax that dick brought from the cabin. then it made a roll of great weight, but dick spread it on the roof of their home to cure. they also cut out great sections of the buffalo, which they put in the same place for drying and jerking. while they were engaged at this task, albert saw a pair of fiery eyes regarding them from the undergrowth. "see, dick," he said, "what is that?" dick saw the eyes, the lean ugly body behind it, and he shuddered. he knew. it was the timber wolf, largest and fiercest of the species, brother to him whom he had seen prowling about the ruined wagon train. the brute called up painful memories, and, seizing his rifle, he fired at a spot midway between the red eyes. the wolf uttered a howl, leaped high in the air, and fell dead, lying without motion, stretched on his side. "i didn't like the way he looked at us," explained dick. a horrible growling and snapping came from the bushes presently. "what's that?" asked albert. "it's only mr. timber wolf's brethren eating up mr. timber wolf, now that he is no longer of any use to himself." albert shuddered, too. it was nightfall when they took away the last of the buffalo for which they cared, and as they departed they heard in the twilight the patter of light feet. "it's the timber wolves rushing for what we've left," said dick. "those are big and fierce brutes, and you and i, al, must never go out without a rifle or a revolver. you can't tell what they'll try, especially in the winter." the entire roof of the cabin was covered the next day with the buffalo robe and the drying meat, and birds of prey began to hover above it. albert constituted himself watchman, and, armed with a long stick, took his place on the roof, where he spent the day. dick shouldered one of the shotguns and went down to the lake. there he shot several fine teal, and in one of the grassy glades near it he roused up prairie hen. being a fine shot, he secured four of these, and returned to the cabin with his acceptable spoil. they had now such a great supply of stores and equipment that their place was crowded and they scarcely had room for sleeping on the floor. "what we need," said dick, "is an annex, a place that can be used for a storehouse only, and this valley, which has been so kind to us, ought to continue being kind and furnish it." the valley did furnish the annex, and it was albert who found it. he discovered a little further up the cleft an enormous oak, old and decayed. the tree was at lease seven feet through, and the hollow itself was fully five feet in diameter, with a height of perhaps fourteen feet. it was very rough inside with sharp projections in every direction which had kept any large animal from making his den there, but albert knew at once that the needed place had been found. full of enthusiasm he ran for dick, who came instantly to see. "fine," said dick approvingly. "we'll call it the 'annex,' sure enough, and we'll get to work right away with our axes." they cut out all the splinters and other projections, smoothing off the round walls and the floor, and they also extended the hollow overhead somewhat. "this is to be a two-story annex," said dick. "we need lots of room." high up they ran small poles across, fixing them firmly in the tree on either side, and lower down they planted many wooden pegs and hooks on which they might hang various articles. "everything will keep dry in here," said albert. "i would not mind sleeping in the annex, but when the door is closed there won't be a particle of air." it was the "door" that gave them the greatest trouble. the opening by which they entered the hollow was about four feet high and a foot and a half across, and both boys looked at it a long time before they could see a way to solve the puzzle. "that door has to be strong enough to keep everything out," said dick. "we mean to keep most of our meat supply in there, and that, of course, will draw wild animals, little and big; it's the big ones we've got to guard against." after strenuous thinking, they smoothed off all the sides of the opening in order that a flat surface might fit perfectly against them. then dick cut down a small oak, and split out several boards--not a difficult task for him, as he had often helped to make boards in illinois. the boards were laid together the width of the opening and were held in place by cross pieces fastened with wooden pegs. among their stores were two augers and two gimlets, and they were veritable godsends; they enabled the boys to make use of pegs and to save the few nails that they had for other and greater emergencies. the door was made, and now came the task to "hang" it. "hang" was merely a metaphorical word, as they fitted it into place instead. the wood all around the opening was about a foot thick, and they cut it out somewhat after the fashion of the lintels of a doorway. then they fitted in the door, which rested securely in its grooves, but they knew that the claws of a grizzly bear or mountain lion might scratch it out, and they intended to make it secure against any such mischance. with the aid of hatchet and auger they put three wooden hooks on either side of the doorway, exactly like those that defend the door of a frontier cabin, and into these they dropped three stout bars. it was true that the bars were on the outside, but no wild animal would have the intelligence enough to pry up those three bars and scratch the door out of place. moreover, it could not happen by accident. it took them three laborious days to make and fit this door, but when the task was done they contemplated it with just pride. "i call that about the finest piece of carpenter's work ever done in these mountains," said albert in tones suffused with satisfaction. "of course," said dick. "why shouldn't it be, when the best carpenters in the world did the job?" the two laughed, but their pride was real and no jest. it was late in the afternoon when they finished this task, and on the way to the cabin albert suddenly turned white and reeled. dick caught him, but he remained faint for sometime. he had overtasked himself, and when they reached the cabin dick made him lie down on the great buffalo robe while he cooked supper. but, contrary to his former habit, albert revived rapidly. the color returned to his face and he sprang up presently, saying that he was hungry enough to eat a whole elk. dick felt a might sense of relief. albert in his zeal had merely overexerted himself. it was not any relapse. "here's the elk steak and you can eat ten pounds of it if you want it," he said. they began early the next morning to move supplies to the annex. high up in the hollow they hung great quantities of dried meat of buffalo, elk, and mule deer. they also stored there several elk and mule deer skins, two wolf skins, and other supplies that they thought they would not need for a while. but in the main it was what they called a smokehouse, as it was universally known in the mississippi valley, their former home--that is, a place for keeping meat cured or to be cured. this task filled the entire day, and when the door was securely fastened in place they returned to the cabin. after supper dick opened the window, from which they could see the annex, as they had cut away a quantity of the intervening bushes. albert meanwhile put out the last coals of the fire. then he joined dick at the window. both had an idea that they were going to see something interesting. the valley filled with darkness, but the moon came out, and, growing used to the darkness, they could see the annex fairly well. dick wet his finger and held it up. "the wind is blowing from the annex toward us," he said. "that's good," said albert, nodding. they watched for a long time, hearing only the dry rustling of the light wind among the bare boughs, but at last dick softly pushed his shoulder against albert's. albert nodded again, with comprehension. a small dark animal came into the open space around the annex. the boys had difficulty in tracing his outlines at first, but once they had them fixed, they followed his movements with ease. he advanced furtively, stopping at intervals evidently both to listen and look. some other of his kind, or not of his kind, might be on the same quest and it was his business to know. "is it a fox?" whispered albert. "i think not," replied dick in the same tone. "it must be a wolverine. he scents the good things in the annex and he wants, oh, how he wants, the taste of them!" the little dark animal, after delicate maneuvering, came close up to the tree, and they saw him push his nose against the cold bark. "i know just how he feels," whispered albert with some sympathy. "it's all there, but he must know the quest is hopeless." the little animal went all around the tree nosing the cold bark, and then stopped again at the side of the door. "no use, sir," whispered albert. "that door won't open just because you're hungry." the little animal suddenly cocked up his head and darted swiftly away into the shadows. but another and somewhat larger beast came creeping into the open, advancing with caution toward the annex. "aha!" whispered dick. "little fellow displaced by a bigger one. that must be a wild cat." the wild cat went through the same performance. he nosed eagerly at the door, circled the tree two or three times, but always came back to the place where that tempting, well-nigh irresistible odor assailed him. the boys heard a low growl and the scratching of sharp claws on the door. "now he's swearing and fighting," whispered albert, "but it will do him no good. save your throat and your claws, old fellow." "look, he's gone!" whispered dick. the wild cat suddenly tucked his tail between his legs and fled from the opening so swiftly that they could scarcely see him go. "and here comes his successor," whispered albert. "i suppose, dick, we might call this an arithmetical or geometrical progression." an enormous timber wolf stalked into the clear space. he bore no resemblance to the mean, sneaking little coyote of the prairie. as he stood upright his white teeth could be seen, and there was the slaver of hunger on his lips. he, too, was restive, watchful, and suspicious, but it did not seem to either dick or albert that his movements betokened fear. there was strength in his long, lean body, and ferocity in his little red eyes. "what a hideous brute!" whispered albert, shuddering. "and as wicked as he is ugly," replied dick. "i hate the sight of these timber wolves. i don't wonder that the wild cat made himself scarce so quickly." "and he's surely hungry!" said albert. "see how he stretches out his head toward our annex, as if he would devour everything inside it!" albert was right. the big wolf was hungry, hungry through and through, and the odor that came from the tree was exquisite and permeating; it was a mingled odor of many things and everything was good. he had never before known a tree to give forth such a delightful aroma and he thrilled in every wolfish fiber as it tickled his nostrils. he approached the tree with all the caution of his cautious and crafty race, and, as he laid his nose upon the bark, that mingled aroma of many things good grew so keen and powerful that he came as near as a big wolf can to fainting with delight. he pushed at the places where the door fitted into the tree, but nothing yielded. those keen and powerful odors that penetrated delightfully to every marrow of him were still there, but he could not reach their source. a certain disappointment, a vague fear of failure mingled with his anticipation, and as the wolverine and the wild cat had done, he moved uneasily around the tree, scratching at the bark, and now and then biting it with teeth that were very long and cruel. his troubled circuit brought him back to the door, where the aroma was finest and strongest. there he tore at the lowest bar with tooth and claw, but it did not move. he had the aroma and nothing more, and no big, strong wolf can live on odors only. the vague disappointment grew into a positive rage. he felt instinctively that he could not reach the good things that the wonderful tree held within itself, but he persisted. he bent his back, uttered a growl of wrath just as a man swears, and fell to again with tooth and claw. "if i didn't know that door was so very strong, i'd be afraid he'd get it," whispered albert. "never fear," dick whispered back with confidence. the big wolf suddenly paused in his effort. tooth and claw were still, and he crouched hard against the tree, as if he would have his body to blend with its shadow. a new odor had come to his nostrils. it did not come from the tree. nor was it pleasant. instead, it told him of something hostile and powerful. he was big and strong himself, but this that came was bigger and stronger. the growl that had risen in his throat stopped at his teeth. a chill ran down his backbone and the hair upon it stood up. the great wolf was afraid, and he knew he was afraid. "look!" whispered albert in rising excitement. "the wolf, too, is stealing away! he is scared by something!" "and good cause he has to be scared," said dick. "see what's coming!" a great tawny beast stood for a moment at the edge of the clearing. he was crouched low against the ground, but his body was long and powerful, with massive shoulders and fore arms. his eyes were yellow in the moonlight, and they stared straight at the annex. the big wolf took one hasty frightened look and then fled silently in the other direction. he knew now that the treasures of the annex were not for him. "it's a cougar," whispered dick, "and it must be the king of them all. did you ever see such a whopper?" the cougar came farther into the clearing. he was of great size, but he was a cat--a huge cat, but a cat, nevertheless--and like a cat he acted. he dragged his body along the earth, and his eyes, now yellow, now green, in the moonlight, were swung suspiciously from side to side. he felt all that the wolf had felt, but he was even more cunning and his approach was slower. it was his habit to spring when close enough, but he saw nothing to spring at except a tree trunk, and so he still crept forward on noiseless pads. "now, what will mr. cougar do?" asked albert. "just what the others have done," replied dick. "he will scratch and bite harder because he is bigger and stronger, but we've fixed our annex for just such attacks. it will keep him out." dick was right. the cougar or mountain lion behaved exactly as the others had done. he tore at the door, then he circled the tree two or three times, hunting in vain for an opening. every vein in him was swollen with rage, and the yellowish-green eyes flared with anger. "he'd be an ugly creature to meet just now," whispered dick. "he's so mad that i believe he'd attack an elephant." "he's certainly in no good humor," replied dick. "but look, al! see his tail drop between his legs! now what under the moon is about to happen?" albert, surcharged with interest and excitement, stared as dick was staring. the mighty cat seemed suddenly to crumple up. his frame shrank, his head was drawn in, he sank lower to the earth, as if he would burrow into it, but he uttered no sound whatever. he was to both the boys a symbol of fear. "what a change! what does it mean?" whispered albert. "it must mean," replied dick, "that he, too, has a master and that master is coming." the cougar suddenly bunched himself up and there was a flash of tawny fur as he shot through the air. a second leap and the trees closed over his frightened figure. albert believed that he would not stop running for an hour. into the opening, mighty and fearless, shambled a monstrous beast. he had a square head, a long, immense body, and the claws of his great feet were hooked, many inches in length, and as sharp and hard as if made of steel. the figure of the beast stood for power and unbounded strength, and his movements indicated overwhelming confidence. there was nothing for him to fear. he had never seen any living creature that could do him harm. it was a gigantic grizzly bear. albert, despite himself, as he looked at the terrible brute, felt fear. it was there, unconfined, and a single blow of its paw could sweep the strongest man out of existence. "i'm glad i'm in this cabin and that this cabin is strong," he whispered tremulously. "so am i," said dick, and his own whisper was a little shaky. "it's one thing to see a grizzly in a cage, and another to see him out here in the dark in these wild mountains. and that fellow must weigh at least a thousand pounds." king bruin shambled boldly across the opening to the annex. why should he be careful? there might be other animals among the bushes and trees watching him, but they were weak, timid things, and they would run from his shadow. in the wan moonlight, which distorted and exaggerated, his huge bulk seemed to the two boys to grow to twice its size. when he reached the tree he reared up against it, growled in a manner that made the blood of the boys run cold, and began to tear with teeth and claws of hooked steel. the bark and splinters flew, and, for a moment, dick was fearful lest he should force the door to their treasure. but it was only for a moment; not even a grizzly could break or tear his way through such a thickness of oak. "nothing can displace him," whispered albert. "he's the real king." "he's not the king," replied dick, "and something can displace him." "what do you mean?" asked albert with incredulity. "no beast is king. it's man, and man is here. i'm going to have a shot at that monster who is trying to rob us. we can reach him from here with a bullet. you take aim, too, al." they opened the window a little wider, being careful to make no noise, and aimed their rifles at the bear, who was still tearing at the tree in his rage. "try to hit him in the heart, al," whispered dick, "and i'll try to do the same. i'll count three in a whisper, and at the 'three' we'll fire together." the hands of both boys as they leveled their weapons were trembling, not with fear, but from sheer nervousness. the bear, meanwhile, had taken no notice and was still striving to reach the hidden treasures. like the others, he had made the circuit of the annex more than once, but now he was reared up again at the door, pulling at it with mighty tooth and claw. it seemed to both as they looked down the barrels of their rifles and chose the vulnerable spot that, monstrous and misshapen, he was constantly growing in size, so powerful was the effect of the moonlight and their imagination. but it was terrible fact to them. they could see him with great distinctness, and so silent was the valley otherwise that they could hear the sound of his claws ripping across the bark. he was like some gigantic survival of another age. dick waited until both his brother and himself grew steadier. "now don't miss, albert," he said. he counted "one, two, three," slowly, and at the "three!" the report of the two rifles came as one. they saw the great bear drop down from the tree, they heard an indescribable roar of pain and rage, and then they saw his huge bulk rushing down upon them. dick fired three times and albert twice, but the bear still came, and then dick slammed the window shut and fastened it just as the full weight of the bear was hurled against the cabin. neither boy ever concealed from himself the fact that he was in a panic for a few moments. their bullets seemed to have had no effect upon the huge grizzly, who was growling ferociously and tearing at the logs of the cabin. glad they were that those logs were so stout and thick, and they stood there a little while in the darkness, their blood chilling at the sounds outside. presently the roaring and tearing ceased and there was the sound of a fall. it was so dark in the cabin that the brothers could not see the faces of each other, but dick whispered: "albert, i believe we've killed him, after all." albert said nothing and they waited a full ten minutes. no sound whatever came to their ears. then dick opened the window an inch or two and peeped out. the great bear lay upon his side quite still, and dick uttered a cry of joy. "we've killed him, al! we've killed him!" he cried. "are you sure?" asked albert. "quite sure. he does not stir in the slightest." they opened the door and went out. the great grizzly was really dead. their bullets had gone true, but his vitality was so enormous that he had been able to rush upon the cabin and tear at it in his rage until he fell dead. both boys looked at him with admiration and awe; even dead, he was terrifying in every respect. "i don't wonder that the cougar, big and strong as he was, slunk away in terror when he saw old ephraim coming," said dick. "we must have his skin to put with our two buffalo robes," said albert. "and we must take it to-night," said dick, "or the wolves will be here while we sleep." they had acquired some skill in the art of removing furs and pelts, but it took them hours to strip the coat from the big grizzly. then, as in the case of the buffalo, they cut away some portions of the meat that they thought might prove tender. they put the hide upon the roof to dry, and, their work over, they went to sleep behind a door securely fastened. dick was awakened once by what he thought was a sound of growling and fighting outside, but he was so sleepy that it made no impression upon him. they did not awake fully until nearly noon, and when they went forth they found that nothing was left of the great bear but his skeleton. "the timber wolves have been busy," said dick. chapter viii the trap makers the hide of the bear, which they cured in good style, was a magnificent trophy; the fur was soft and long, and when spread out came near covering the floor of their cabin. it was a fit match for the robe of the buffalo. they did not know much about grizzlies, but they believed that no larger bear would ever be killed in the rocky mountains. a few days later dick shot another buffalo in one of the defiles, but this was a young cow and her flesh was tender. they lived on a portion of it from day to day and the rest they cured and put in the annex. they added the robe to their store of furs. "i'm thinking," said dick, "that you and i, al, might turn fur hunters." this seems to be an isolated corner of the mountains. it may have been tapped out long ago, but when man goes away the game comes back. we've got a comfortable house, and, with this as a basis, we might do better hunting furs here than if we were hunting gold in california, where the chances are always against you. the idea appealed to albert, but for the present they contented themselves with improving their house and surroundings. other bears, cougars, and wolves came at night and prowled around the annex, but it was secure against them all, and dick and albert never troubled themselves again to keep awake and watch for such intruders. winter now advanced and it was very cold, but, to dick's great relief, no snow came. it was on albert's account that he wished air and earth to remain dry, and it seemed as if nature were doing her best to help the boy's recovery. the cough did not come again, he had no more spells of great exhaustion, the physical uplift became mental also, and his spirits, because of the rebound, fairly bubbled. he was full of ideas, continually making experiments, and had great plans in regard to the valley and castle howard, as he sometimes playfully called their cabin. one of the things that pleased albert most was his diversion of water from a hot spring about fifty yards from the cabin and higher up the ravine. he dug a trench all the way from the pool to the house, and the hot water came bubbling down to their very door. it cooled, of course, a little on the way, but it was still warm enough for cooking purposes, and albert was hugely delighted. "hot water! cold water! whatever you wish, dick," he said; "just turn on the tap. if my inventive faculty keeps on growing, i'll soon have a shower bath, hot and cold, rigged up here." "it won't grow enough for that," said dick; "but i want to tell you, al, that the big game in the valley is increasing at a remarkable rate. although cold, it's been a very open winter so far, but i suppose the instinct of these animals warns them to seek a sheltered place in time." "instinct or the habit of endless generations," said albert. "which may be the same thing," rejoined dick. "there's a whole herd of elk beyond the far end of the lake, i've noticed on the cliffs what i take to be mountain sheep, and thirty or forty buffalos at least must be ranging about in here." "then," said albert, "let's have a try at the buffaloes. their robes will be worth a lot when we go back to civilization, and there is more room left in the annex." they took their repeaters and soon proved dick's words to be true. in a sheltered meadow three or more miles up the valley they found about twenty buffaloes grazing. each shot down a fat cow, and they could have secured more had not the minds of both boys rebelled at the idea of slaughter. "it's true we'd like to have the robes," said dick, "but we'd have to leave most of the carcasses rotting here. even with the wonderful appetites that we've developed, we couldn't eat a whole buffalo herd in one winter." but after they had eaten the tongue, brisket, and tenderloin of the two cows, while fresh, these being the tenderest and best parts of the buffalo, they added the rest of the meat to their stores in the annex. as they had done already in several cases, they jerked it, a most useful operation that observant dick had learned when they were with the wagon train. it took a lot of labor and time to jerk the buffaloes, but neither boy had a lazy bone in him, and time seemed to stretch away into eternity before them. they cut the flesh into long, thin strips, taking it all from the bones. then all these pieces were thoroughly mixed with salt--fortunately, they could obtain an unlimited supply of salt by boiling out the water from the numerous salt springs in the valley--chiefly by pounding and rubbing. they let these strips remain inside the hides about three hours, then all was ready for the main process of jerking. albert had been doing the salting and dick meanwhile had been getting ready the frame for the jerking. he drove four forked poles into the ground, in the form of a square and about seven feet apart. the forks were between four and five feet above the ground. on opposite sides of the square, from fork to fork, he laid two stout young poles of fresh, green wood. then from pole to pole he laid many other and smaller poles, generally about an inch apart. they laid the strips of buffalo meat, taken from their salt bath, upon the network of small poles, and beneath they built a good fire of birch, ash, and oak. "why, it makes me think of a smokehouse at home," said albert. "same principle," said dick, "but if you let that fire under there go out, al, i'll take one of those birch rods and give you the biggest whaling you ever had in your life. you're strong enough now to stand a good licking." albert laughed. he thought his big brother dick about the greatest fellow on earth. but he paid assiduous attention to the fire, and dick did so, too. they kept it chiefly a great bed of coals, never allowing the flames to rise as high as the buffalo meat, and they watched over it twenty-four hours. in order to keep this watch, they deserted the cabin for a night, sleeping by turns before the fire under the frame of poles, which was no hardship to them. the fierce timber wolves came again in the night, attracted by the savory odor of buffalo meat; and once they crept near and were so threatening that albert, whose turn it was at the watch, became alarmed. he awakened dick, and, in order to teach these dangerous marauders a lesson, they shot two of them. then the shrewd animals, perceiving that the two-legged beasts by the fire carried something very deadly with which they slew at a distance, kept for a while to the forest and out of sight. after the twenty-four hours of fire drying, the buffalo meat was greatly reduced in weight and bulk, though it was packed as full as ever with sustenance. it was now cured, that is, jerked, and would keep any length of time. while the frame was ready they jerked an elk, two mule deer, a big silver-tip bear that dick shot on the mountain side, and many fish that they caught in the lake and the little river. they would scale the fish, cut them open down the back, and then remove the bone. after that the flesh was jerked on the scaffold in the same way that the meat of the buffalo and deer was treated. before these operations were finished, the big timber wolves began to be troublesome again. neither boy dared to be anywhere near the jerking stage without a rifle or revolver, and dick finally invented a spring pole upon which they could put the fresh meat that was waiting its turn to be prepared--they did not want to carry the heavy weight to the house for safety, and then have to bring it back again. while dick's spring pole was his own invention, as far as he was concerned, it was the same as that used by thousands of other trappers and hunters. he chose a big strong sapling which albert and he with a great effort bent down. then he cut off a number of the boughs high up, and in each crotch fastened a big piece of meat. the sapling was then allowed to spring back into place and the meat was beyond the reach of wolf. but the wolves tried for it, nevertheless. dick awakened albert the first night after this invention was tried and asked him if he wished to see a ghost dance. albert, wrapped to his eyes in the great buffalo robe, promptly sat up and looked. they had filled four neighboring saplings with meat, and at least twenty wolves were gathered under them, looking skyward, but not at the sky--it was the flesh of elk and buffalo that they gazed at so longingly, and delicious odors that they knew assailed their nostrils. but the wolf is an enterprising animal. he does not merely sit and look at what he wants, expecting it to come to him. every wolf in the band knew that no matter how hard and long he might look that splendid food in the tree would not drop down into his waiting mouth. so they began to jump for it, and it was this midnight and wilderness ballet that albert opened his eyes to watch. one wolf, the biggest of the lot, leaped. it was a fine leap, and might have won him a championship among his kind, but he did not reach the prize. his teeth snapped together, touching only one another, and he fell. albert imagined that he could hear a disappointed growl. another wolf leaped, the chief leaped again, a third, a fourth, and a fifth leaped, and then all began to leap together. the air was full of flying wolfish forms, going up or coming down. they went up, hearts full of hope, and came down, mouths empty of everything but disappointed foam. teeth savagely hit teeth, and growls of wrath were abundant. albert felt a ridiculous inclination to laugh. the whole affair presented its ludicrous aspect to him. "did you ever see so much jumping for so little reward?" he whispered to dick. "no, not unless they're taking exercise to keep themselves thin, although i never heard of a fat wolf." but a wolf does not give up easily. they continued to leap faster and faster, and now and then a little higher than before, although empty tooth still struck empty tooth. now and then a wolf more prone to complaint than the others lifted up his voice and howled his rage and chagrin to the moon. it was a genuine moan, a long, whining cry that echoed far through the forest and along the slopes, and whenever albert heard it he felt more strongly than ever the inclination to laugh. "i suppose that a wolf's woes are as real as our own," he whispered, "but they do look funny and act funny." "strikes me the same way," replied dick with a grin. "but they're robbers, or would be if they could. that meat's ours, and they're trying to get it." it was in truth a hard case for the wolves. they were very big and very strong. doubtless, the selfsame wolf that had been driven away from the annex by the mountain lion was among them, and all of them were atrociously hungry. it was not merely an odor now, they could also see the splendid food hanging just above their heads. never before had they leaped so persistently, so ardently, and so high, but there was no reward, absolutely none. not a tooth felt the touch of flesh. the wolves looked around at one another jealously, but the record was as clean as their teeth. there had been no surreptitious captures. "will they keep it up all night?" whispered albert. "can't say," replied dick. "we'll just watch." all the wolves presently stopped leaping and crouched on the earth, staring straight up at the prizes which hung, as ever, most tantalizingly out of reach. the moonlight fell full upon them, a score or more, and albert fancied that he could see their hungry, disappointed eyes. the spectacle was at once weird and ludicrous. albert felt again that temptation to laugh, but he restrained it. suddenly the wolves, as if it were a preconcerted matter, uttered one long, simultaneous howl, full, alike in its rising and falling note, of pain, anguish, and despair, then they were gone in such swiftness and silence that it was like the instant melting of ghosts into thin air. it took a little effort of will to persuade albert that they had really been there. "they've given it up," he said. "the demon dancers have gone." "demon dancers fits them," said dick. "it's a good name. yes, they've gone, and i don't think they'll come back. wolves are smart, they know when they're wasting time." when they finished jerking their buffalo meat and venison, dick took the fine double-barreled shotgun which they had used but little hitherto, and went down to the lake in search of succulent waterfowl. the far shore of the lake was generally very high, but on the side of the cabin there were low places, little shallow bays, the bottoms covered with grass, which were much frequented by wild geese and wild ducks, many of which, owing to the open character of the winter, had not yet gone southward. the ducks, in particular, muscovy, mallard, teal, widgeon, and other kinds, the names of which dick did not know, were numerous. they had been molested so little that they were quite tame, and it was so easy to kill them in quantities that the element of sport was entirely lacking. dick did not fancy shooting at a range of a dozen yards or so into a dense flock of wild ducks that would not go away, and he wished also to save as many as he could of their shot cartridges, for he had an idea that he and his brother would remain in the valley a long time. but both he and albert wanted good supplies of duck and geese, which were certainly toothsome and succulent, and they were taking a pride, too, in filling the annex with the best things that the mountains could afford. hence dick did some deep thinking and finally evolved a plan, being aided in his thoughts by earlier experience in illinois marshes. he would trap the ducks and geese instead of shooting them, and he and albert at once set about the task of making the trap. this idea was not original with dick. as so many others have been, he was, in part, and unconscious imitator. he planted in the shallow water a series of hoops, graded in height, the largest being in the deepest water, while they diminished steadily in size as they came nearer to the land. they made the hoops of split saplings, and planted them about four feet apart. then the covered all these hoops with a netting, the total length of which was about twenty-five feet. they also faced each hoop with a netting, leaving an aperture large enough for the ducts to enter. it was long and tedious work to make the netting, as this was done by cutting the hide of an elk and the hide of a mule deer into strips and plaiting the strips on the hoops. they then had a network tunnel, at the smaller end of which they constructed an inclosure five or six feet square by means of stout poles which they thrust into the mud, and the same network covering which they used on the tunnel. "it's like going in at the big end of a horn and coming out at the little one into a cell," said albert. "will it work?" "work?" replied dick. "of course, it will. you just wait and you'll see." albert looked out upon the lake, where many ducks were swimming about placidly, and he raised his hand. "oh, foolish birds!" he apostrophized. "here is your enemy, man, making before your very eyes the snare that will lead you to destruction, and you go on taking no notice, thinking that the sunshine will last forever for you." "shut up, al," said dick, "you'll make me feel sorry for those ducks. besides, you're not much of a poet, anyway." when the trap was finished they put around the mouth and all along the tunnel quantities of the grass and herbs that the ducks seemed to like, and then dick announced that the enterprise was finished. "we have nothing further to do about it," he said, "but to take out our ducks." it was toward twilight when they finished the trap, and both had been in the cold water up to their knees. dick had long since become hardened to such things, but he looked at albert rather anxiously. the younger boy, however, did not begin to cough. he merely hurried back to the fire, took off his wet leggings, and toasted his feet and legs. then he ate voraciously and slept like a log the night through. but both he and dick went down to the lake the next morning with much eagerness to see what the trap contained, if anything. it was a fresh winter morning, not cold enough to freeze the surface of the lake, but extremely crisp. the air contained the extraordinary exhilarating quality which dick had noticed when they first came into the mountains, but which he had never breathed anywhere else. it seemed to him to make everything sparkle, even his blood, and suddenly he leaped up, cracked his heels together, and shouted. "why, dick," exclaimed albert, "what on earth is the matter with you?" "nothing is the matter with me. instead, all's right. i'm so glad i'm alive, al, old man, that i wanted to shout out the fact to all creation." "feel that way myself," said albert, "and since you've given such a good example, think i'll do as you did." he leaped up, cracked his heels together, and let out a yell that the mountains sent back in twenty echoes. then both boys laughed with sheer pleasure in life, the golden morning, and their happy valley. so engrossed were they in the many things that they were doing that they did not yet find time to miss human faces. as they approached the trap, they heard a great squawking and cackling and found that the cell, as albert called the square inclosure, contained ten ducks and two geese swimming about in a great state of trepidation. they had come down the winding tunnel and through the apertures in the hoops, but they did not have sense enough to go back the same way. instead they merely swam around the square and squawked. "now, aren't they silly?" exclaimed albert. "with the door to freedom open, they won't take it." "i wonder," said dick philosophically, "if we human beings are not just the same. perhaps there are easy paths out of our troubles lying right before us and superior creatures up in the air somewhere are always wondering why we are such fools that we don't see them." "shut up, dick," said albert, "your getting too deep. i've no doubt that in our net are some ducks that are rated as uncommonly intelligent ducks as ducks go." they forgot all about philosophy a few moments later when they began to dispose of their capture. they took them out, one by one, through a hole that they made in the cell and cut off their heads. the net was soon full up again, and they caught all the ducks and geese they wanted with such ridiculous ease that at the end of a week they took it down and stored it in the cabin. they jerked the ducks and geese that they did not need for immediate use, and used the feathers to stuff beds and pillows for themselves. the coverings of these beds were furs which they stitched together with the tendons of the deer. they began to be annoyed about this time by the depredations of mountain lions, which, attracted by the pleasant odors, came down from the slopes to the number of at least half a dozen, dick surmised, and prowled incessantly about the cabin and annex, taking the place of the timber wolves, and proving more troublesome and dangerous alike. one of them managed at night to seize the edge of an elk skin that hung on the roof of the cabin, and the next morning the skin was half chewed up and wholly ruined. both boys were full of rage, and they watched for the lions, but failed to get a shot at them. but dick, out of the stores of his memory, either some suggestion from reading, or trappers' and hunters' tales, devised a gun trap. he put a large piece of fresh deer meat in the woods about a quarter of a mile from the cabin. it was gone the next morning, and the tracks about showed that the lions had been present. then dick drove two stout forked sticks into the ground, the forks being about a yard above the earth. upon these he lashed one of their rifles. then he cut a two-foot section of a very small sapling, one end of which he inserted carefully between the ground that the trigger of the rifle. the other end was supported upon a small fork somewhat higher than those supporting the rifle. then he procured another slender but long section of sapling that reached from the end of the short piece in the crotch some distance beyond the muzzle of the rifle. the end beyond the muzzle had the stub of a bough on it, but the end in the crotch was tied there with a strip of hide. now, if anything should pull on the end of this stick, it would cause the shorter stick to spring the trigger of the rifle and discharge it. dick tested everything, saw that all was firmly and properly in place, and the next thing to do was to bait the trap. he selected a piece of most tempting deer meat and fastened it tightly on the hooked end of the long stick. it was obvious that any animal pulling at this bait would cause the short stick tied at the other end of it to press against the trigger of the rifle, and the rifle would be fired as certainly as if the trigger had been pulled by the hand of man. moreover, the barrel of the rifle was parallel with the long stick, and the bullet would certainly be discharged into the animal pulling at the bait. after the bait had been put on dick put the cartridge in the rifle. he was careful to do this last, as he did not wish to take any chances with the trap while he was testing it. but he and albert ran a little wall of brush off on either side in order that the cougar, if cougar it were, should be induced to approach the muzzle directly in front. when all the work was finished, the two boys inspected it critically. "i believe that our timber wolves would be too smart to come up to that trap," said albert. "perhaps," said dick; "but the wolf has a fine intellect, and i've never heard that the cougar or puma was particularly noted for brain power. anyhow, i know that traps are built for him in this manner, and we shall see whether it will work." "are we going to hide somewhere near by and watch during the night?" "there's no need to make ourselves uncomfortable. if the gun gets him, it'll get him whether we are or are not here." "that's so," said albert. "well, i'm willing enough to take to the cabin. these nights are growing pretty cold, i can tell you." taking a last look at the gun trap and assuring themselves that it was all right, they hurried away to castle howard. the night was coming on much colder than any that they had yet had, and both were glad to get inside. albert stirred the coals from beneath the ashes, put on fresh wood, and soon they had a fine blaze. the light flickered over a cabin greatly improved in appearance and wonderfully snug. the floor, except directly in front of the hearth, where sparks and coals would pop out, was covered with the well-tanned skins of buffalo, elk, mule deer, bear, and wolf. the walls were also thickly hung with furs, while their extra weapons, tools, and clothing hung there on hooks. it was warm, homelike, and showed all the tokens of prosperity. dick looked around at it with an approving eye. it was not only a house, and a good house at that, but it was a place that one might make a base for a plan that he had in mind. yes, circumstance had certainly favored them. their own courage, skill, and energy had done the rest. albert soon fell asleep after supper, but dick was more wakeful, although he did not wish to be so. it was the gun trap that kept his eyes open. he took a pride in doing things well, and he wanted the trap to work right. a fear that it might not do so worried him, but in turn he fell into a sound sleep from which he was awakened by a report. he thought at first that something had struck the house, but when his confused senses were gathered into a focus he knew that it was a rifle shot. "up, al, up!" he cried, "i think a cougar has been fooling with our trap!" albert jumped up. they threw on their coats and went out into a dark and bitterly cold night. if they had not been so eager to see what had happened, they would have fled back to the refuge of the warm cabin, but they hurried on toward the snug little hollow in which the gun trap had been placed. at fifty yards they stopped and went much more slowly, as a terrific growling and snarling smote their ears. "it's the cougar, and we've got him," said dick. "he's hit bad or he wouldn't be making such a terrible fuss." they approached cautiously and saw on the ground, almost in front of the gun, a large yellowish animal writhing about and tearing the earth. his snarls and rage increased as he scented the two boys drawing near. "i think his shoulder is broken and his backbone injured," said dick. "that's probably the reason he can't get away. i don't like to see him suffer and i'll finish him now." he sent a bullet through the cougar's head and that was the end of him. in order to save it from the wolves, they took his hide from him where he lay, and spread it the next day on the roof of the cabin. the gun trap was so successful that they baited it again and again, securing three more cougars, until the animals became too wary to try for the bait. the fourth cougar did not sustain a severe wound and fled up the mountain side, but dick tracked him by the trail of blood that he left, overtook him far up the slope, and slew him with single shot. all these skins were added to their collection, and when the last was spread out to dry, dick spoke of the plan that he had in mind. "al," he said, "these mountains, or at least this corner of them, seem to be left to us. the sioux, i suppose, are on the warpath elsewhere, and they don't like mountains much, anyhow. our wonderful valley, the slopes, and all the ravines and canyons are full of game. the beaver must be abundant farther in, and i propose that we use our opportunity and turn fur hunters. there's wealth around us for the taking, and we were never sure of it in california. we've got enough ammunition to last us two years if we want to stay that long. besides, al, old boy, the valley has been the remaking of you. you know that." albert laughed from sheer delight. "dick," he said, "you won't have to get a gun and threaten me with death unless i stay. i'll be glad to be a fur hunter, and, dick, i tell you, i'm in love with this valley. as you say, it's made me over again, and oh, it's fine to be well and strong, to do what you please, and not always to be thinking, 'how can i stand this? will it hurt me?'" "then," said dick, "it's settled. we'll not think for a long time of getting back to civilization, but devote ourselves to gathering up furs and skins." chapter ix the timber wolves the cold increased, although snow fell but little, which dick considered good luck, chiefly on albert's account. he wanted the hardening process to continue and not to be checked by thaws and permeating dampness. meanwhile, they plunged with all the energy and fire of youth into the task of fur hunting. they had already done much in that respect, but now it was undertaken as a vocation. they became less scrupulous about sparing the buffaloes, and they shot more than twenty in the defiles of the mountains, gathering a fine lot of robes. several more skins of the bear, grizzly, and silver tip were added to their collection, and the elk also furnished an additional store. many wolverines were taken in dead falls and snares, and their skins were added to the rapidly growing heap. they baited the trap gun once more, hoping that a fifth cougar might prove rash enough to dare it. no cougar came, but on the third night a scornful grizzly swallowed the deer meat as a tidbit, and got a bullet in the neck for his carelessness. in his rage, he tore the trap to pieces and tossed the rifle to one side, but, fortunately, he did not injure the valuable weapon, his attention turning instantly to something else. later on the boys dispatched him as he lay wounded upon the ground. their old clothing was now about worn out and it also became necessary to provide garments of another kind in order to guard against the great cold. here their furs became invaluable; they made moccasins, leggings, caps, and coats alike of them, often crude in construction, but always warm. they found the beaver father in the mountains, as dick had surmised, and trapped them in great abundance. this was by far their most valuable discovery, and they soon had a pack of sixty skins, which dick said would be worth more than a thousand dollars in any good market. they also made destructive inroads upon the timber wolves, the hides of which were more valuable than those of any other wolf. in fact, they made such havoc that the shrewd timber wolf deserted the valley almost entirely. as the boys now made their fur hunting a business, they attended to every detail with the greatest care. they always removed the skin immediately after the death of the animal, or, if taken in a trap, as soon after as possible. every particle of fat or flesh was removed from the inside of the skin, and they were careful at the same time never to cut into the skin itself, as they knew that the piercing of a fur with a knife would injure its value greatly. then the skin was put to dry in a cold, airy place, free alike from the rays of the sun or the heat of a fire. they built near the cabin a high scaffold for such purposes, too high and strong for any wild beast to tear down or to reach the furs upon it. then they built above this on additional poles a strongly thatched bark roof that would protect the skins from rain, and there they cured them in security. "i've heard," said dick, "that some trappers put preparations or compounds on the skins in order to cure them, but since we don't have any preparations or compounds we won't use them. besides, our furs seem to cure up well enough without them." dick was right. the cold, dry air of the mountains cured them admirably. two or three times they thought to help along the process by rubbing salt upon the inner sides. they could always get plenty of salt by boiling out water from the salt springs, but as they seemed to do as well without it, they ceased to take the trouble. the boys were so absorbed now in their interesting and profitable tasks that they lost all count of the days. they knew they were far advanced into a splendid open winter, but it is probably that they could not have guessed within a week of the exact day. however, that was a question of which they thought little. albert's health and strength continued to improve, and with the mental stimulus added to the physical, the tide of life was flowing very high for both. they now undertook a new work in order to facilitate their trapping operations. the beaver stream, and another that they found a little later, ran far back into the mountains, and the best trapping place was about ten miles away. after a day's work around the beaver pond, they had to choose between a long journey in the night to the cabin or sleeping in the open, the latter not a pleasant thing since the nights had become so cold. hence, they began the erection of a bark shanty in a well-sheltered cove near the most important of the beaver localities. this was a work of much labor, but, as in all other cases, they persisted until the result was achieved triumphantly. they drove two stout, forked poles deep into the ground, leaving a projection of about eight feet above the earth. the poles themselves were about eight feet apart. from fork to fork they placed a strong ridgepole. then they rested against the ridgepole from either side other and smaller poles at an angle of forty or fifty degrees. the sloping poles were about a foot and a half apart. these poles were like the scantling or inside framework of a wooden house and they covered it all with spruce and birch bark, beginning at the bottom and allowing each piece to overlap the one beneath it, after the fashion of a shingled roof. they secured pieces partly with wooden pegs and partly with other and heavier wooden poles leaned against them. one end of the shelter was closed up with bark wholly, secured with wooden pegs, and the other end was left open in order that its tenants might face the fire which would be built three or four feet in front of it. they packed the floor with dead leaves, and put on the top of the leaves a layer of thick bark with the smooth side upward. the bark shanty was within a clump of trees, and its open side was not fifteen feet from the face of an abrupt cliff. hence there was never any wind to drive the smoke from the fire back into their faces, and, wrapped in their furs, they slept as snugly in the shanty as if they had been in the cabin itself. but they were too wise to leave anything there in their absence, knowing that it was not sufficient protection against the larger wild animals. in fact, a big grizzly, one night when they were at the cabin, thrust his nose into the shanty and, lumbering about in an awkward and perhaps frightened manner, knocked off half of one of the bark sides. it took nearly a day's work to repair the damage, and it put dick in an ill humor. "i'd like to get a shot at that bear!" he exclaimed. "he had no business trying to come into a house when he was not invited." "but he is an older settler than we are," said albert, in a whimsical tone. dick did get a shot at a bear a few days later, and it was a grizzly, at that. the wound was not fatal, and the animal came on with great courage and ferocity. a second shot from dick did not stop him and the boy was in great danger. but albert, who was near, sent two heavy bullets, one after the other, into the beast, and he toppled over, dying. it was characteristic of the hardy life they were leading and its tendency toward the repression of words and emotion that dick merely uttered a brief, "thanks, al, you were just in time," and albert nodded in reply. the skin of old ephraim went to join that of his brother who had been taken sometime before, and dick himself shot a little later a third, which contributed a fine skin. the boys did not know how hard they were really working, but their appetites would have bee a fine gauge. toiling incessantly in a crisp, cold air, as pure as any that the world affords, they were nearly always hungry. fortunately, the happy valley, their own skill and courage, and the supplies that dick had brought from the last wagon train furnished them an unlimited larder. game of great variety was their staple, but they had both flour and meal, from which, though they were sparing of their use, they made cakes now and then. they had several ways of preparing the indian meal that dick had taken from the wagon. they would boil it for about an hour, then, after it cooled, would mix it with the fat of game and fry it, after which the compound was eaten in slices. they also made mealcakes, johnnycakes and hoecakes. albert was fond of fish, especially of the fine trout that they caught in the little river, and soon he invented or discovered a way of cooking them that provided an uncommon delicacy for their table. he would slit the trout open, clean it, and the season it with salt and also with pepper, which they had among their stores. then he would lay the fish in the hot ashes of a fire that had burned down to embers, cover it up thoroughly with the hot ashes and embers, and let it cook thirty or forty minutes--thirty minutes for the little fellows and forty minutes for the big ones. when he thought the fish was done to the proper turn, he would take it from the ashes, clean it, and then remove the skin, which would almost peel off of its own accord. the fish was then ready for the eating, and neither dick nor albert could ever bear to wait. the flesh looked so tempting and the odor was so savory that hunger instantly became acute. "they are so good," said albert, "because my method of cooking preserves all the juices and flavors of the fish. nothing escapes." "thanks, professor," said dick. "you must be right, so kindly pass me another of those trout, and be quick about it." it is a truth that both boys became epicures. their valley furnished so much, and they had a seasoning of hard work and open mountain air that was beyond compare. they even imitated indian and trapper ways of cooking geese, ducks, quail, sage hens, and other wild fowl that the region afforded. they could cook these in the ashes as they did the trout, and they also had other methods. albert would take a duck, cut it open and clean it, but leave the feathers on. then he would put it in water, until the feathers were soaked thoroughly, after which he would cover it up with ashes, and put hot coals on top of the ashes. when the bird was properly cooked and drawn from the ashes, the skin could be pulled off easily, taking the feathers, of course, with it. then a duck, sweet, tender, and delicate, such as no restaurant could furnish, was ready for the hardy youngsters. at rare intervals they improve on this by stuffing the duck with seasoning and indian meal. now and then they served a fat goose the same way and found it equally good. they cooked the smaller birds in a simpler manner, especially when they were at the bark shanty, which they nicknamed the "suburban villa." the bird was plucked of its feathers, drawn and washed, and then they cut it down the back in order to spread it out. nothing was left but to put the bird on the end of a sharp stick, hold it over the coals, and turn it around until it was thoroughly broiled or roasted. they also roasted slices of big game in the same way. as albert was cooking a partridge in this manner one evening at the suburban villa, dick, who was sitting on his buffalo-robe blanket in the doorway, watched him and began to make comparisons. he recalled the boy who had left omaha with the wagon train six or eight months before, a thin, spiritless fellow with a slender, weak neck, hollow, white cheeks, pale lips, and listless eyes. that boy drew coughs incessantly from a hollow chest, and the backs of his hands were ridged when the flesh had gone away, leaving the bones standing up. this boy whom dick contemplated was quite a different being. his face was no longer white, it was instead a mixture of red and brown, and both tints were vivid. across one cheek were some brier scratches which he had acquired the day before, but which he had never noticed. the red-brown cheeks were filled out with the effects of large quantities of good food digested well. as he bent over the fire, a chest of good width seemed to puff out with muscle and wind expansion. despite the extreme cold, his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and the red wrists and hands were well covered with tough, seasoned flesh. the eyes that watched the roasting bird were intent, alert, keenly interested in that particular task, and in due course, in any other that might present itself. dick drew a long breath of satisfaction. providence had treated them well. then he called loudly for his share of the bird, saying that he was starving, and in a few moments both fell to work. their fur operations continued to extend. they had really found a pocket, and isolated corner in the high rockies where the fur-bearing animals, not only abundant, were also increasing. it was, too, the dead of winter, the very best time for trapping, and so, as far as their own goings and comings were concerned, they were favored further by the lucky and unusual absence of snow. they increased the number of their traps--dead falls, box traps, snares, and other kinds, and most of them were successful. they knew instinctively the quality of the furs that they obtained. they could tell at a glance whether they were prime, that is, thick and full, and as they cured them and baled them, they classified them. constant application bred new ideas. in their pursuit of furs, they found that they were not quite so sparing of the game as they had been at first. some of their scruples melted away. albert now recalled a device of trappers of which he had read. this was the use of a substance generally called barkstone, which they found to be of great help to them in the capture of that animal. the barkstone or castoreum, as it is commercially known, was obtained principally from the beaver himself. the basis of it was an acrid secretion with a musky odor of great power, found in two glands just under the root of the beaver's tail. each gland was from one and one half to two inches in length. the boys cut out these glands and squeezed the contents into an empty tin can. this at first was of a yellowish-red color, but after a while, when it dried, it became a light brown. this substance formed the main ingredient of barkstone, and in their medicine chest they found a part of the remainder. the secretion was transferred to a bottle and the mixed with it essence of peppermint and ground cinnamon. as albert remembered it, ground nutmeg also was needed, but as they had no nutmeg they were compelled to take their chances without it. then they poured whisky on the compound until it looked like a paste. then the bottle was stopped up with the greatest care, and in about a week, when they stole a sniff or two at it, they found that the odor had increased ten or a dozen times in power. they put eight or ten drops of the barkstone upon the bait for the beaver, or somewhere near the trap, and, despite some defects in the composition, it proved an extraordinary success. the wariest beaver of all would be drawn by it, and their beaver bales grew faster than any other. dick calculated one day that they had at least five thousand dollars worth of furs, which seemed a great sum to both boys. it certainly meant, at that time and in that region, a competence, and it could be increased greatly. "of course," said dick, "we'll have to think some day of the way in which we must get these furs out, and for that we will need horses or mules, but we won't bother our heads about it yet." after the long period of clear, open weather, the delayed snow came. it began to fall one evening at twilight, when both boys were snug in the cabin, and it came in a very gentle, soothing way, as if it meant no harm whatever. big, soft flakes fell as softly as the touch of down, but every time the boys looked out they were still coming in the same gentle but persistent way. the next morning the big flakes still came down and all that day and all the next night. when the snow stopped it lay five feet deep on the level, and uncounted feet deep in the gullies and canyons. "we're snowed in," said albert in some dismay, "and we can't go to our traps. why, this is likely to last a month!" "we can't walk through it," said dick meditatively, "but we can walk on it. we've got to make snowshoes. they're what we need." "good!" said albert with enthusiasm. "let's get to work at once." deep snows fall in illinois, and both, in their earlier boyhood, had experimented for the sake of sport with a crude form of snowshoe. now they were to build upon this slender knowledge, for the sake of an immediate necessity, and it was the hardest task that they had yet set for themselves. nevertheless, it was achieved, like the others. they made a framework of elastic stripes of ash bent in the well-known shape of the snowshoe, which bears some resemblance to the shape of the ordinary shoe, only many times larger and sharply pointed at the rear end. its length was between five and six feet, and the ends were tightly wound with strips of hide. this frame was bent into the shoe shape after it had been soaked in boiling water. then they put two very strong strips of hide across the front part of the framework, and in addition passed at least a half dozen stout bands of hide from strip to strip. then came the hard task of attaching the shoe to the foot of the boy who was to wear it. the ball of the foot was set on the second crosspiece and the foot was then tied there with a broad strip of hide which passed over the instep and was secured behind the ankle. it required a good deal of practice to fasten the foot so it would not slip up and down; and also in such a manner that the weight of the shoe would be proportioned to it properly. they had to exercise infinite patience before two pairs of snowshoes were finished. there was much hunting in deep snow for proper wood, many strips and some good hide were spoiled, but the shoes were made and then another equally as great confronted the two boys--to learn how to use them. each boy put on his pair at the same time and went forth on the snow, which was now packed and hard. albert promptly caught one of his shoes on the other, toppled over, and went down through the crust of the snow, head first. dick, although in an extremely awkward situation himself, managed to pull his brother out and put him in the proper position, with his head pointing toward the sky instead of the earth. albert brushed the snow out of his eyes and ears, and laughed. "good start, bad ending," he said. "this is certainly the biggest pair of shoes that i ever had on, dick. they feel at least a mile long to me." "i know that mine are a mile long," said dick, as he, too, brought the toe of one shoe down upon the heel of the other, staggered, fell over sideways, but managed to right himself in time. "it seems to me," said albert, "that the proper thing to do is to step very high and very far, so you won't tangle up one shoe with the other." "that seems reasonable," said dick, "and we'll try it." they practiced this step for an hour, making their ankles ache badly. after a good rest they tried it for another hour, and then they began to make progress. they found that they got along over the snow at a fair rate of speed, although it remained an awkward and tiring gait. nevertheless, one could travel an indefinite distance, when it was impossible to break one's way far through five or six feet of packed snow, and the shoes met a need. "they'll do," said albert; "but it will never be like walking on the solid earth in common shoes." albert was right. their chief use for these objects, so laboriously constructed, was for the purpose of visiting their traps, some of which were set at least a dozen miles away. they wished also to go back to the shanty and see that it was all right. they found a number of valuable furs in the traps, but the bark shanty had been almost crushed in by the weight of the snow, and they spent sometime strengthening and repairing it. in the course of these excursions their skill with the snowshoes increased and they were also able to improve upon the construction, correcting little errors in measurement and balance. the snow showed no signs of melting, but they made good progress, nevertheless, with their trapping, and all the furs taken were of the highest quality. it would have been easy for them to kill enough game to feed a small army, as the valley now fairly swarmed with it, although nearly all of it was of large species, chiefly buffalo, elk, and bear. there was one immense herd of elk congregated in a great sheltered space at the northern end of the valley, where they fed chiefly upon twigs and lichens. hanging always upon the flanks of this herd was a band of timber wolves of great size and ferocity, which never neglected an opportunity to pull down a cripple or a straying yearling. "i thought we had killed off all these timber wolves," said albert when he first caught sight of the band. "we did kill off most of those that were here when we came," said dick, "but others, i suppose, have followed the game from the mountains into the valley." albert went alone a few days later to one of their traps up the valley, walking at a good pace on his snowshoes. a small colony of beavers had been discovered on a stream that came down between two high cliffs, and the trap contained a beaver of unusually fine fur. albert removed the skin, put it on his shoulder, and, tightening his snowshoes, started back to castle howard. the snow had melted a little recently, and in many places among the trees it was not deep, but albert and dick had made it a point to wear their snowshoes whenever they could, for the sake of the skill resulting from practice. albert was in a very happy frame of mind. he felt always now a physical elation, which, of course, became mental also. it is likely, too, that the rebound from long and despairing ill health still made itself felt. none so well as those who have been ill and are cured! he drew great draughts of the frosty air into his strong, sound lungs, and the emitted it slowly and with ease. it was a fine mechanism, complex, but working beautifully. moreover, he had an uncommonly large and rich beaver fur over his shoulder. such a skin as that would bring twenty-five dollars in any decent market. albert kept to the deep snow on account of his shoes, and was making pretty good time, when he heard a long howl, varied by a kind of snappy, growling bark. "one of those timber wolves," said albert to himself, "and he has scented the blood of the beaver." he thought no more about the wolf until two or three minutes later when he heard another howl and then two or three more. moreover, they were much nearer. "now, i wonder what they're after?" thought albert. but he went on, maintaining his good pace, and then he heard behind him a cry that was a long, ferocious whine rather than a howl. albert looked back and saw under the trees, where the snow was lighter, a dozen leaping forms. he recognized at once the old pests, the timber wolves. "now, i wonder what they're after?" he repeated, and then as the whole pack suddenly gave tongue in a fierce, murderous howl, he saw that it was himself. albert, armed though he was--neither boy ever went forth without gun or revolver--felt the blood grow cold in every vein. these were not the common wolves of the prairie, nor yet the ordinary wolf of the east and middle west, but the great timber wolf of the northwest, the largest and fiercest of the dog tribe. he had grown used to the presence of timber wolves hovering somewhere near, but now they presented themselves in a new aspect, bearing down straight upon him, and pushed by hunger. he understood why they were about to attack him. they had been able to secure but little of the large game in the valley, and they were drawn on by starvation. he looked again and looked fearfully. they seemed to him monstrous in size for wolves, and their long, yellowish-gray bodies were instinct with power. teeth and eyes alike were gleaming. albert scarcely knew what to do first. should he run, taking to the deepest snow, where the wolves might sink to their bodies and thus fail to overtake him? but in his own haste he might trip himself with the long, ungainly snowshoes, and then everything would quickly be over. yet it must be tried. he could see no other way. albert, almost unconsciously prayed for coolness and judgment, and it was well for him that his life in recent months had taught him hardihood and resource. he turned at once into the open space, away from the trees, where the snow lay several feet deep, and he took long, flying leaps on his snowshoes. behind him came the pack of great, fierce brutes, snapping and snarling, howling and whining, a horrible chorus that made shivers chase one another up and down the boy's spine. but as he reckoned, the deep snow made them flounder, and checked their speed. before him the open ground and the deep snow stretched straight away beside the lake until it reached the opening between the mountains in which stood castle howard. as albert saw the good track lie before him, his hopes rose, but presently, when he looked back again, they fell with cruel speed. the wolves, despite the depth of the snow, had gained upon him. sometimes, perhaps, it proved hard enough to sustain the weight of their bodies, and then they more than made up lost ground. albert noted a wolf which he took at once to be the leader, not only because he led all the others, but because also of his monstrous size. even in that moment of danger he wondered that a wolf could grow so large, and that he should have such long teeth. but the boy, despite his great danger, retained his presence of mind. if the wolves were gaining, then he must inflict a check upon them. he whirled about, steadied himself a moment on his snowshoes, and fired directly at the huge leader. the wolf had swung aside when he saw the barrel of the rifle raised, but the bullet struck down another just behind him. instantly, some of the rest fell upon the wounded brute and began to devour him, while the remainder, after a little hesitation, continued to pursue albert. but the boy had gained, and he felt that the repeating rifle would be for a while like a circle of steel to him. he could hold them back for a time with bullet after bullet, although it would not suffice to stop the final rush when it came, if it came. albert looked longingly ahead. he saw a feather of blue smoke against the dazzling white and silver of the sky, and he knew that it came from their cabin. if he were only there behind those stout log walls! a hundred wolves, bigger than the big leader, might tear at them in vain! and perhaps dick, too, would come! he felt that the two together would have little to fear. the wolves set up their fierce, whining howl again, and once more it showed that they had gained upon the fleeing boy. he turned and fired once, twice, three times, four times, as fast as he could pull the trigger, directly into the mass of the pack. he could not tell what he had slain and what he had wounded, but there was a hideous snapping and snarling, and the sight of wolf teeth flashing into wolf flesh. albert ran on and that feather of blue smoke was larger and nearer. but was it near enough? he could hear the wolves behind him again. all these diversions were only temporary. no matter how many of their number were slain or wounded, no matter how many paused to devour the dead and hurt, enough were always left to follow him. the pursuit, too, had brought reinforcements from the lurking coverts of the woods and bushes. albert saw that none of his bullets had struck the leader. the yellowish-gray monster still hung close upon him, and he was to albert like a demon wolf, one that could not be slain. he would try again. he wheeled and fired. the leader, as before, swerved to one side and a less fortunate wolf behind him received the bullet. albert fired two more bullets, and then he turned to continue his flight. but the long run, the excitement, and his weakened nerves caused the fatal misstep. the toe of one snowshoe caught on the heel of the other, and as a shout pierced the air, he went down. the huge gray leader leaped at the fallen boy, and as his body paused a fleeting moment in midair before it began the descent, a rifle cracked, a bullet struck him in the throat, cutting the jugular vein and coming out behind. his body fell lifeless on the snow, and he who had fired the shot came on swiftly, shouting and firing again. it was well that dick, sometime after albert's departure, had concluded to go forth for a little hunt, and it was well also that in addition to his rifle he had taken the double-barreled shotgun thinking that he might find some winter wild fowl flying over the snow and ice-covered surface of the lake. his first shot slew the master wolf, his second struck down another, his third was as fortunate, his fourth likewise, and then, still running forward, he bethought himself of the shotgun that was strapped over his shoulder. he leveled it in an instant and fairly sprayed the pack of wolves with stinging shot. before that it had been each bullet for a wolf and the rest untouched, but now there was a perfect shower of those hot little pellets. it was more than they could stand, big, fierce, and hungry timber wolves though they were. they turned and fled with beaten howls into the woods. albert was painfully righting himself, when dick gave him his hand and sped the task. albert had thought himself lost, and it was yet hard to realize that he had not disappeared down the throat of the master wolf. his nerves were overtaxed, and he was near collapse. "thank you, dick, old boy," he said. "if you hadn't come when you did, i shouldn't be here." "no, you wouldn't," replied dick grimly. "those wolves eat fast. but look, al, what a monster this fellow is! did you ever see such a wolf?" the great leader lay on his side upon the snow, and a full seven feet he stretched from the tip of his nose to the root of his stumpy tail. no such wolf as he had ever been put inside a cage, and it was rare, indeed, to find one so large, even in the mountains south of the very far north. "that's a skin that will be worth something," said dick, "and here are more, but before we begin the work of taking them off, you'll have to be braced up, al. you need a stimulant." he hurried back to castle howard and brought one of the bottles of whisky, a little store that they had never touched except in the compounding of the barkstone for the capture of beaver. he gave albert a good stiff drink of it, after which the boy felt better, well enough, in fact, to help dick skin the monster wolf. "it gives me pleasure to do this," said albert, as he wielded the knife. "you thought, mr. wolf, that i was going to adorn your inside; instead, your outside will be used as an adornment trodden on by the foot of my kind." they secured four other fine and unimpaired skins among the slain, and after dressing and curing, they were sent to join the stores in the annex. chapter x dick goes scouting dick did not believe that the timber wolves, after suffering so much in the pursuit of albert, would venture again to attack either his brother or himself. he knew that the wolf was one of the shrewdest of all animals, and that, unless the circumstances were very unusual indeed, the sight of a gun would be sufficient to warn them off. nevertheless, he decided to begin a campaign against them, though he had to wait a day or two until albert's shaken nerves were restored. they wished to save their ammunition as much as possible, and they built three large dead falls, in which they caught six or seven great wolves, despite their cunning. in addition they hunted them with rifles with great patience and care, never risking a shot until they felt quite sure that it would find a vital spot. in this manner they slew about fifteen more, and by that time the wolves were thoroughly terrified. the scent of the beings carrying sticks which poured forth death and destruction at almost any distance, was sufficient to send the boldest band of timber wolves scurrying into the shadows of the deepest forest in search of hiding and safety. the snow melted and poured in a thousand streams from the mountains. the river and all the creeks and brooks roared in torrents, the earth soaked in water, and the two boys spent much of the time indoors making new clothing, repairing traps and nets, and fashioning all kinds of little implements that were of use in their daily life. they could realize, only because they now had to make them, how numerous such implements were. yet they made toasting sticks of hard wood, carved out wooden platters, constructed a rude but serviceable dining table, added to their supply of traps of various kinds, and finally made two large baskets of split willow. the last task was not as difficult as some others, as both had seen and taken a part in basket making in illinois. the cabin was now crowded to inconvenience. over their beds, from side to side, and up under the sloping roof, they had fastened poles, and from all of these hung furs and skins, buffalo, deer, wolf, wild cat, beaver, wolverine, and others, and also stores of jerked game. the annex was in the same crowded condition. the boys had carried the hollow somewhat higher up with their axes, but the extension gave them far less room than they needed. "it's just this, dick," said albert, "we getting so rich that we don't know what to do with all our property. i used to think it a joke that the rich were unhappy, but now i see where their trouble comes in." "i know that the trappers cache their furs, that is, bury them or hide them until they can take them away," said dick, "but we don't know how to bury furs so they'll keep all right. still, we've got to find a new place of some kind. besides, it would be better to have them hidden where only you and i could find them, al. maybe we can find such a place." albert agreed, and they began a search along the cliffs. dick knew that extensive rocky formations must mean a cave or an opening of some kind, if they only looked long enough for it, at last they found in the side of a slope a place that he thought could be made to suit. it was a rocky hollow running back about fifteen feet, and with a height and width of perhaps ten feet. it was approached by an opening about four feet in height and two feet in width. dick wondered at first that it had not been used as a den by some wild animal, but surmised that the steepness of the ascent and the extreme roughness of the rocky floor had kept them out. but these very qualities recommended the hollow to the boys for the use that they intended it. its position in the side of the cliff made it a hard place to find, and the solid rock of its floor, walls, and roof insured the dryness that was necessary for the storage of their furs. "we'll call this the cliff house," said albert, "and we'll take possession at once." they broke off the sharper of the stone projections with their ax heads, and then began the transfer of the furs. it was no light task to carry them up the step slope to the cliff house, but, forced to do all things for themselves, they had learned perseverance, and they carried all their stock of beaver furs and all the buffalo robes and bearskins, except those in actual use, together with a goodly portion of the wolfskins, elk hides, and others. dick made a rude but heavy door which fitted well enough into the opening to keep out any wild animal, no matter how small, and in front of it, in a little patch of soft soil, they set out two transplanted pine bushes which seemed to take root, and which dick was sure would grow in the spring. when the boys looked up from the bottom of the slope, they saw no trace of the cliff house, only an expanse of rock, save a little patch of earth where two tiny pines were growing. "nobody but ourselves will ever find our furs!" exclaimed dick exultingly. "the most cunning indian would not dream that anything was hidden up there behind those little pines, and the furs will keep as well inside as if they were in the best storehouse ever built." the discovery and use of the rock cache was a great relief to both. their cabin had become so crowded with furs and stores, that the air was often thick and heavy, and they did not have what dick called elbow room. now they used the cabin almost exclusively for living purposes. most of the stores were in the annex, while the dry and solid cliff house held the furs. "have you thought, dick, what you and i are?" asked albert. "i don't catch your meaning." "we're aristocrats of the first water, mr. richard howard and mr. albert howard, the mountain kings. we can't get along with less than four residences. we live in castle howard, the main mansion, superior to anything of its kind in a vast region; then we have the annex, a tower used chiefly as a supply room and treasure chest; then the suburban villa, a light, airy place of graceful architecture, very suitable as a summer residence, and now we have the cliff house, in a lofty and commanding position noted for its wonderful view. we are really a fortunate pair, dick." "i've been thinking that for sometime," replied dick rather gravely. hitherto they had confined their operations chiefly to their own side of the lake, but as they ranged farther and farther in search of furs they began to prowl among the canyons and narrow valleys in the mountains on the other side. they made, rather far up the northern side, some valuable catches of beaver, but in order to return with them, they were compelled to come around either the northern or southern end of the lake, and the round trip was tremendously long and tiring. "it's part of a man's business to economize time and strength," said dick, "and we must do it. you and i, al, are going to make a canoe." "how?" "i don't know just yet, but i'm studying it out. the idea will jump out of my head in two or three days." it was four days before it jumped, but when it did, it jumped to some purpose. "first, we'll make a dugout," he said. "we've got the tools--axes, knives, saws, and augers--and we'd better start with that." they cut down a big and perfectly straight pine and chose a length of about twelve feet from the largest part of the trunk. both boys had seen dugouts, and they knew, in a general way, how to proceed. their native intelligence supplied the rest. they cut off one side of the log until it was flat, thus making the bottom for the future canoe. they cut the opposite side away in the well-known curve that a boat makes, low in the middle and high at each end. this part of the work was done with great caution, but dick had an artistic eye, and they made a fairly good curve. next they began the tedious and laborious work of digging out, using axes, hatchets, and chisel. this was a genuine test of albert's new strength, but he stood it nobly. they chipped away for a long time, until the wood on the sides and bottom was thin but strong enough to stand any pressure. then they made the proper angle and curve of bow and stern, cut and made two stout broad paddles, and their dugout was ready--a long canoe with a fairly good width, as the original log had been more than two feet in diameter. it was both light and strong, and, raising it on their shoulders, they carried it down to the lake where they put it in the water. albert, full of enthusiasm, sprang into the canoe and made a mighty sweep with his paddle. the light dugout shot away, tipped on one side, and as albert made another sweep with his paddle to right it, it turned over, bottom side up, casting the rash young paddler into ten feet of pure cold water. albert came up with a mighty splash and sputter. he was a good swimmer, and he had also retained hold of the paddle unconsciously, perhaps. dick regarded him contemplatively from the land. he had no idea of jumping in. one wet and cold boy was enough. beside, rashness deserved its punishment. "get the canoe before it floats farther away," he called out, "and tow it to land. it has cost us too much work to be lost out on the lake." albert swam to the canoe, which was now a dozen yards away, and quickly towed it and the paddle to land. there, shivering, the water running from him in streams, he stepped upon the solid earth. "run to the cabin as fast as you can," said dick. "take off those wet things, rub yourself down before the fire; then put on dry clothes and come back here and help me." albert needed no urging, but it seemed to him that he would freeze before he reached the cabin, short as the distance was. fortunately, there was a good fire on the hearth, and, after he had rubbed down and put on his dry, warm suit of deerskin, he never felt finer in his life. he returned to the lake, but he felt sheepish on the way. that had been a rash movement of his, overenthusiastic, but he had been properly punished. his chagrin was increased when he saw dick a considerable distance out on the lake in the canoe, driving it about in graceful curves with long sweeps of his paddle. "this is the way it ought to be done," called out dick cheerily. "behold me, richard howard, the king of canoe men!" "you've been practicing while i was gone!" exclaimed albert. "no doubt of it, my young friend, and that is why you see me showing such skill, grace, and knowledge. i give you the same recipe without charge: look before you leap, especially if you're going to leap into a canoe. now we'll try it together." he brought the canoe back to land, albert got in cautiously, and for the rest of the day they practiced paddling, both together and alone. albert got another ducking, and dick, in a moment of overconfidence, got one, too, somewhat to albert's pleasure and relief, as it has been truly said that misery loves company, but in two or three days they learned to use the canoe with ease. then, either together or alone, they would paddle boldly the full length of the lake, and soon acquired dexterity enough to use it for freight, too; that is, they would bring back in it across the lake anything that they had shot or trapped on the other side. so completely had they lost count of time that dick had an idea spring was coming, but winter suddenly shut down upon them again. it did not arrive with wind and snow this time, but in the night a wave of cold came down from the north so intense that the sheltered valley even did not repel it. dick and albert did not appreciate how really cold it was until they went from the cabin into the clear morning air, when they were warned by the numbing sensation that assailed their ears and noses. they hurried into the house and thawed out their faces, which stung greatly as they were exposed to the fire. remembering the experiences of their early boyhood, they applied cold water freely, which allayed the stinging. after that they were very careful to wrap up fingers, ears, and noses when they went forth. now, the channel that albert had made from the water of the hot spring proved of great use. the water that came boiling from the earth cooled off rapidly, but it was not yet frozen when it reached the side of castle howard, and they could make use of it. the very first morning they found their new boat, of which they were so proud, hard and fast with ten inches of solid ice all around it. albert suggested leaving it there. "we have no need of it so long as the lake is covered with ice," he said, "and when the ice melts it will be released." but dick looked a little farther. the ice might press in on it and crush it, and hence albert and he cut it out with axes, after which they put it in the lee of the cabin. meanwhile, when they wished to reach the traps on the farther side of the lake, they crossed it on the ice, and, presuming that the cold might last long, they easily made a rude sledge which they used in place of the canoe. "if we can't go through the water, we can at least go over it," said albert. while the great cold lasted, a period of about two weeks, the boys went on no errands except to their traps. the cold was so intense that often they could hear the logs of castle howard contracting with a sound like pistol shots. then they would build the fire high and sit comfortably before it. fortunately, the valley afforded plenty of fuel. both boys wished now that they had a few books, but books were out of the question, and they sought always to keep themselves busy with the tasks that their life in the valley entailed upon them. both knew that this was best. the cold was so great that even the wild animals suffered from it. the timber wolves, despite their terrible lessons, were driven by it down the valley, and at night a stray one now and then would howl mournfully near the cabin. "he's a robber and would like to be a murderer," albert would say, "but he probably smells this jerked buffalo meat that i'm cooking and i'm sorry for him." but the wolves were careful to keep out of rifle shot. dick made one trip up the valley and found about fifty buffaloes sheltered in a deep ravine and clustering close together for warmth. they were quite thin, as the grass, although it had been protected by the snow, was very scanty at that period of the year. dick could have obtained a number of good robes, but he spared them. "maybe i won't be so soft-hearted when the spring comes and you are fatter," he said. the two, about this time, took stock of their ammunition, which was the most vital of all things to them. for sometime they had used both the shot and ball cartridges only in cases of necessity, and they were relying more and more on traps, continually devising new kinds, their skill and ingenuity increasing with practice. dick had brought a great store of cartridges from the last train, especially from the unrifled wagon in the gully, and both boys were surprised to see how many they had left. they had enough to last a long time, according to their present mode of life. "if you are willing, that settles it," said dick. "if i am willing for what?" asked albert. "willing to stay over another year. you see, al, we've wandered into a happy hunting ground. there are more furs, by the hundreds, for the taking, and it seems that this is a lost valley. nobody else comes here. besides, you are doing wonderfully. all that old trouble is gone, and we want it to stay gone. if we stay here another year, and you continue to eat the way you do and grow the way you do, you'll be able to take a buffalo by the horns and wring its neck." albert grinned pleasantly at his brother. "you don't have to beg me to stay," he said. "i like this valley. it has given me life and what is to be our fortune, our furs. why not do all we can while we can? i'm in favor of the extra year, dick." "then no more need be said about it. the cliff house isn't half full of furs yet, but in another year we can fill it." the great cold began to break up, the ice on the lake grew thinner and thinner and then disappeared, much of the big game left the valley, the winds from the north ceased to blow, and in their stead came breezes from the south, tipped with warmth. dick knew that spring was near. it was no guess, he could feel it in every bone of him, and he rejoiced. he had had enough of winter, and it gave him the keenest pleasure when he saw tiny blades of new grass peeping up in sheltered places here and there. dick, although he was not conscious of it, had changed almost as much as albert in the last eight or nine months. he had had no weak chest and throat to cure, but his vigorous young frame had responded nobly to the stimulus of self-reliant life. the physical experience, as well as the mental, of those eight or nine months, had been equal to five times their number spent under ordinary conditions, and he had grown greatly in every respect. few men were as strong, as agile, and as alert as he. he and albert, throughout that long winter, had been sufficient unto each other. they had a great sense of ownership, the valley and all its manifold treasurers belonged to them--a feeling that was true, as no one else came to claim it--and they believed that in their furs they were acquiring and ample provision for a start in life. when the first tender shades of green began to appear in the valley and on the slopes, dick decided upon a journey. "do you know, al, how long we have been in this valley?" he asked. "eight or ten months, i suppose," replied albert. "it must be something like that, and we've been entirely away from our race. if we had anybody to think about us--although we haven't--they'd be sure that we are dead. we're just as ignorant of what is happening in the world, and i want to go on a skirmishing trip over the mountains. you keep house while i'm gone." albert offered mild objections, which he soon withdrew, as at heart he thought his brother right, and the next day, early in the morning, dick started on his journey. he carried jerked buffalo meat in a deerskin pouch that he had made for himself, his customary repeating rifle, revolver, and a serviceable hatchet. "look after things closely, al," said dick, "and don't bother about setting the traps. furs are not good in the spring." "all right," responded albert. "how long do you think you'll be gone?" "can't say, precisely. three or four days, i presume, but don't you worry unless it's a full week." it was characteristic of the strength and self-restraint acquired by the two that they parted with these words and a hand clasp only, yet both had deep feeling. dick looked back from the mouth of the cleft toward castle howard and saw a boy in front of it waving a cap. he waved his own in reply and then went forward more swiftly down the valley. it did not take him long to reach the first slope, and, when he had ascended a little, he paused for rest and inspection. spring had really made considerable progress. all the trees except the evergreens had put forth young leaves and, as he looked toward the north, the mountains unrolled like a vast green blanket that swept away in ascending folds until it ended, and then the peaks and ridges, white with snow, began. dick climbed father, and their valley was wholly lost to sight. it was not so wonderful after all that nobody came to it. trappers who knew of it long ago never returned, believing that the beaver were all gone forever, and it was too near to the warlike sioux of the plains for mountain indians to make a home there. dick did not stop long for the look backward--he was too intent upon his mission--but resumed the ascent with light foot and light heart. he remembered very well the way in which he and albert had come, and he followed it on the return. all night, with his buffalo robe about him, he slept in the pine alcove that had been the temporary home of albert and himself. he could see no change in it in all the months, except traces to show that some wild animal had slept there. "maybe you'll come to-night, mr. bear or mr. mountain lion, to sleep in your little bed." said dick as he lay down in his buffalo robe, "but you'll find me here before you." he was wise enough to know that neither bear nor mountain lion would ever molest him, and he slept soundly. he descended the last slopes and came in sight of the plains on the afternoon of the next day. everything seemed familiar. the events of that fatal time had made too deep an impression upon him and albert ever to be forgotten. he knew the very rocks and trees and so went straight to the valley in which he had found the wagon filled with supplies. it lay there yet, crumpled somewhat by time and the weight of snow that had fallen upon it during the winter, but a strong man with good tools might put it in shape for future service. "now, if al and i only had horses, we might get it out and take away our furs in it," said dick, "but i suppose i might as well wish for a railroad as for horses." he descended into the gully and found the tracks of wolves and other wild beasts about the wagon. in their hunger, they had chewed up every fragment of leather or cloth, and had clawed and scratched among the lockers. dick had searched those pretty well before, but now he looked for gleanings. he found little of value until he discovered, jammed down in a corner, an old history and geography of the united states combined in one volume with many maps and illustrations. it was a big octavo book, and dick seized it with the same delight with which a miner snatches up his nugget of gold. he opened it, took a rapid look through flying pages, murmured, "just the thing," closed it again, and buttoned it securely inside his deerskin coat. he had not expected anything; nevertheless, he had gleaned to some purpose. dick left the wagon and went into the pass where the massacre had occurred. time had not dimmed the horror of the place for him and he shuddered as he approached the scene of ambush, but he forced himself to go on. the wagons were scattered about, but little changed, although, as in the case of the one in the gully, all the remaining cloth and leather had been chewed by wild animals. here and there were the skeletons of the fallen, and dick knew that the wild beasts had not been content with leather and cloth alone. he went through the wagons one by one, but found nothing of value left except a paper of needles, some spools of thread, and a large pair of scissors, all of which he put in the package with the history. it was nightfall when he finished the task, and retiring to the slope, he made his bed among some pines. he heard wolves howling twice in the night, but he merely settled himself more easily in his warm buffalo robe and went to sleep again. replenishing his canteen with water the next morning, he started out upon the plains, intending to make some explorations. dick had thought at first that they were in the black hills, but he concluded later that they were further west. the mountains about them were altogether too high for the black hills, and he wished to gain some idea of their position upon the map. the thought reminded him that he had a book with maps in his pocket, and he took out the precious volume. he found a map of the rocky mountain territory, but most of the space upon it was vague, often blank, and he could not exactly locate himself and albert, although he knew that they were very far west of any settled country. "i can learn from that book all about the world except ourselves," he said, as he put it back in his pocket. but he was not sulky over it. his was a bold and adventurous spirit and he was not afraid, nor was his present trip merely to satisfy curiosity. he and albert must leave the valley some day, and it was well to know the best way in which it could be done. he started across the plain in a general southwesterly direction, intending to travel for about a day perhaps, camp for the night, and return on the following day to his mountains. he walked along with a bold, swinging step and did not look back for an hour, but when he turned at last he felt as if he had ventured upon the open ocean in a treacherous canoe. there were the mountains, high, sheltered, and friendly, while off to the south and west the plains rolled away in swell after swell as long and desolate as an untraveled sea, and as hopeless. dick saw toward noon some antelope grazing on the horizon, but he was not a hunter now, and he did not trouble himself to seek a shot. an hour or two later he saw a considerable herd of buffaloes scattered about over the plain, nibbling the short bunch grass that had lived under the snow. they were rather an inspiring sight, and dick felt as if, in a sense, they were furnishing him company. they drove away the desolation and loneliness of the plains, and his inclinations toward them were those of genuine friendliness. they were in danger of no bullet from him. while he was looking at them, he saw new figures coming over the distant swell. at first he thought they were antelope, but when they reached the crest of the swell and their figures were thrown into relief against the brilliant sky, he saw that they were horsemen. they came on with such regularity and precision, that, for a moment or two, dick believed them to be a troop of cavalry, but he learned better when they scattered with a shout and began to chase the buffaloes. then he knew that they were a band of sioux indians hunting. the full extent of his danger dawned upon him instantly. he was alone and on foot. the hunt might bring them down upon him in five minutes. he was about to run, but his figure would certainly be exposed upon the crest of one of the swells, as theirs had been, and he dropped instead into one of a number of little gullies that intersected the plain. it was an abrupt little gully, and dick was well hidden from any eyes not within ten yards of him. he lay at first so he could not see, but soon he began to hear shots and the trampling of mighty hoofs. he knew now that the sioux were in among the buffaloes, dealing out death, and he began to have a fear of being trodden upon either by horsemen or huge hoofs. he could not bear to lie there and he warned only by sound, so he turned a little further on one side and peeped over the edge of the gully. the hunters and hunter were not as near as he thought; he had been deceived by sound, the earth being such a good conductor. yet they were near enough for him to see that he was in great danger and should remain well hidden. he could observe, however, that the hunt was attended with great success. over a dozen buffaloes had fallen and the others were running about singly or in little groups, closely pursued by the exultant sioux. some were on one side of him and some on the other. there was no chance for him, no matter how careful he might be, to rise from the gully and sneak away over the plain. instead, he crouched more closely and contracted himself into the narrowest possible space, while the hunt wheeled and thundered about him. it is not to be denied that dick felt many tremors. he had seen what the sioux could do. he knew that they were the most merciless of all the northwestern indians, and he expected only torture and death if he fell into their hands, and there was his brother alone now in the valley. once the hunt swung away to the westward and the sounds of it grew faint. dick hoped it would continue in that direction, but by and by it came back again and he crouched down anew in his narrow quarters. he felt that every bone in him was stiffening with cramp and needlelike pains shot through his nerves. yet he dared not move. and upon top of his painful position came the knowledge that the sioux would stay there to cut up the slain buffaloes. he was tempted more than once to jump up, run for it and take his chances. he noticed presently a gray quality in the air, and as he glanced off toward the west, he saw that the red sun was burning very low. dick's heart sprang up in gladness; it was the twilight, and the blessed darkness would bring chance of escape. seldom has anyone watched the coming of night with keener pleasure. the sun dropped down behind the swells, the gray twilight passed over all the sky, and after it came the night, on black wings. fires sprang up on the plain, fires of buffalo chips lighted by the sioux, who were now busy skinning and cutting up the slain buffaloes. dick saw the fires all about him, but none was nearer than a hundred yards, and, despite them, he decided that now was his best time to attempt escape before the moon should come out and lighten up the night. he pulled himself painfully from the kind gully. he had lain there hours, and he tested every joint as he crept a few feet on the plain. they creaked for a while, but presently the circulation was restored, and, rising to a stooping position, with his rifle ready, he slipped off toward the westward. dick knew that great caution was necessary, but he had confidence in the veiling darkness. off to the eastward he could see one fire, around which a half dozen warriors were gathered, busy with a slain buffalo, working and feasting. he fancied that he could trace their savage features against the red firelight, but he himself was in the darkness. another fire rose up, and this was straight before him. like the others, warriors were around it, and dick turned off abruptly to the south. then he heard ponies stamping and he shifted his course again. when he had gone about a dozen yards he lay flat upon the plain and listened. he was hardy and bold, but, for a little while, he was almost in despair. it seemed to him that he was ringed around by a circle of savage warriors and that he could not break through it. his courage returned, and, rising to his knees, he resumed his slow progress. his course was now southwesterly, and soon he heard again the stamping of hoofs. it was then that a daring idea came into dick's head. that stamping of hoofs was obviously made by the ponies of the sioux. either the ponies were tethered to short sticks, or they had only a small guard, perhaps a single man. but as they were with the buffaloes, and unsuspecting of a strange presence, they would not detail more than one man to watch their horses. it was wisdom for him to slip away one of the horses, mount it when at a safe distance, and then gallop toward the mountains. dick sank down a little lower and crept very slowly toward the point from which the stamping of hoofs proceeded. when he had gone about a dozen yards he heard another stamping of hoofs to his right and then a faint whinny. this encouraged him. it showed him that the ponies were tethered in groups, and the group toward which he was going might be without a guard. he continued his progress another dozen yards, and then lay flat upon the plain. he had seen two vague forms in the darkness, and he wished to make himself a blur with the earth. they were warriors passing from one camp fire to another, and dick saw them plainly, tall men with blankets folded about them like togas, long hair in which eagle feathers were braided after the sioux style, and strong aquiline features. they looked like chiefs, men of courage, dignity, and mind, and dick contrasted them with the ruffians of the wagon train. the contrast was not favorable to the white faces that he remembered so well. but the boy saw nothing of mercy or pity in these red countenances. bold and able they might be, but it was no part of theirs to spare their enemies. he fairly crowded himself against the earth, but they went on, absorbed in their own talk, and he was not seen. he raised up again and began to crawl. the group of ponies came into view, and he saw with delight that they had no watchman. a half dozen in number and well hobbled, they cropped the buffalo grass. they were bare of back, but they wore their indian bridles, which hung from their heads. dick knew a good deal about horses, and he was aware that the approach would be critical. the indian ponies might take alarm or they might not, but the venture must be made. he did not believe that he could get beyond the ring of the sioux fires without being discovered, and only a dash was left. dick marked the pony nearest to him. it seemed a strong animal, somewhat larger than the others, and, pulling up a handful of bunch grass, he approached it, whistling very softly. he held the grass in his left hand and his hunting knife in the right, his rifle being fastened to his back. the pony raised his head, looked at him in a friendly manner, then seemed to change his mind and backed away. but dick came on, still holding out the grass and emitting that soft, almost inaudible whistle. the pony stopped and wavered between belief and suspicion. dick was not more than a dozen feet away now, and he began to calculate when he might make a leap and seize the bridle. the boy and the pony were intently watching the eyes of each other. dick, in that extreme moment, was gifted with preternatural acuteness of mind and vision, and he saw that the pony still wavered. he took another step forward, and the eyes of the pony inclined distinctly from belief to suspicion; another short and cautious step, and they were all suspicion. but it was too late for the pony. the agile youth sprang, and dropping the grass, seized him with his left hand by the bridle. a sweep or two of the hunting knife and the hobbles were cut through. the pony reared and gave forth an alarmed neigh, but dick, quickly replacing the knife in his belt, now held the bridle with both hands, and those two hands were very strong. he pulled the pony back to its four feet and sprang, with one bound, upon his back. then kicking him vigorously in the side, he dashed away, with rifle shots spattering behind him. chapter xi the terrible pursuit dick knew enough to bend low down on the neck of the flying mustang, and he was untouched, although he heard the bullets whistling about him. the neigh of the pony had betrayed him, but he was aided by his quickness and the friendly darkness, and he felt a surge of exultation that he could not control, boy that he was. the sioux, jumping upon their ponies, sent forth a savage war whoop that the desolate prairie returned in moaning echoes, and dick could not refrain from a reply. he uttered one shout, swung his rifle defiantly over his head, then bending down again, urged his pony to increased speed. dick heard the hoofs of his pursuers thundering behind him, and more rifle shots came, but they ceased quickly. he knew that the sioux would not fire again soon, because of the distance and the uncertain darkness. it was his object to increase that distance, trusting that the darkness would continue free from moonlight. he took one swift look backward and saw the sioux, a dozen or more, following steadily after. he knew that they would hang on as long as any chance of capturing him remained, and he resolved to make use of the next swell that he crossed. he would swerve when he passed the crest, and while it was yet between him and his pursuers, perhaps he could find some friendly covert that would hide him. meanwhile he clung tightly to his rifle, something that one always needed in this wild and dangerous region. he crossed a swell, but there was no friendly increase of the darkness and he was afraid to swerve, knowing that the sioux would thereby gain upon him, since he would make himself the curve of the bow, while they remained the string. in fact, the hasty glance back showed that the sioux had gained, and dick felt tremors. he was tempted for a moment to fire upon his pursuers, but it would certainly cause a loss of speed, and he did not believe that he could hit anything under such circumstances. no, he would save his bullets for a last stand, if they ran him to earth. the sioux raised their war whoop again and fired three or four shots. dick felt a slight jarring movement run through his pony, and then the animal swerved. he was afraid that he had trodden in a prairie-dog hole or perhaps a little gully, but in an instant or two he was running steadily again, and dick forgot the incident in the excitement of the flight. he was in constant fear lest the coming out of the moon should lighten up the prairie and make him a good target for the sioux bullets, but he noted instead, and with great joy, that it was growing darker. heavy clouds drifted across the sky, and a cold wind arose and began to whistle out of the northwest. it was a friendly black robe that was settling down over the earth. it had never before seemed to him that thick night could be so welcome. dick's pony rose again on a swell higher than the others, and was poised there for the fraction of a second, a dark silhouette against the darker sky. several of the sioux fired. dick felt once more that momentary jar of his horse's mechanism, but it disappeared quickly and his hopes rose, because he saw that the darkness lay thickly between this swell and the next, and he believed that he now could lose his pursuers. he urged his horse vigorously. he had made no mistake when he chose this pony as strong and true. the response was instant and emphatic. he flew down the slope, but instead of ascending the next swell he turned at an angle and went down the depression that lay between them. there the darkness was thickest, and the burst of speed by the pony was so great that the shapes of his pursuers became vague and then were lost. nevertheless, he heard the thudding of their hoofs and knew that they could also hear the beat of his. that would guide them for a while yet. he thought he might turn again and cross the next swell, thus throwing them entirely off his track, but he was afraid that he would be cast into relief again when he reached the crest, and so continued down the depression. he heard shouts behind him, and it seemed to him that they were not now the shouts of triumph, but the shouts of chagrin. clearly, he was gaining because after the cries ceased, the sound of hoof beats came but faintly. he urged his horse to the last ounce of his speed and soon the sound of the pursuing hoofs ceased entirely. the depression ended and he was on the flat plain. it was still cloudy, with no moon, but his eyes were used enough to the dark to tell him that the appearance of the country had changed. it now lay before him almost as smooth as the surface of a table, and never relaxing the swift gallop, he turned at another angle. he was confident now that the sioux could not overtake or find him. a lone object in the vast darkness, there was not a chance in a hundred for them to blunder upon him. but the farther away the better, and he went on for an hour. he would not have stopped then, but the good pony suddenly began to quiver, and then halted so abruptly that dick, rifle and all, shot over his shoulder. he felt a stunning blow, a beautiful set of stars flashed before his eyes, and he was gone, for the time, to another land. when dick awoke he felt very cold and his head ached. he was lying flat upon his back, and, with involuntary motion, he put his hand to his head. he felt a bump there and the hand came back damp and stained. he could see that the fingers were red--there was light enough for that ominous sight, although the night had no yet passed. then the flight, the danger, and his fall all came back in a rush to dick. he leaped to his feet, and the act gave him pain, but not enough to show that any bone was broken. his rifle, the plainsman's staff and defense, lay at his feet. he quickly picked it up and found that it, too, was unbroken. in fact, it was not bent in the slightest, and here his luck had stood him well. but ten feet away lay a horse, the pony that had been a good friend to him in need. dick walked over to the pony. it was dead and cold. it must have been dead two to three hours at least, and he had lain that long unconscious. there was a bullet hole in its side and dick understood now the cause of those two shivers, like the momentary stopping of a clock's mechanism. the gallant horse had galloped on until he was stopped only by death. dick felt sadness and pity. "i hope you've gone to the horse heaven," he murmured. then he turned to thoughts of his own position. alone and afoot upon the prairie, with hostile and mounted sioux somewhere about, he was still in bad case. he longed now for his mountains, the lost valley, the warm cabin, and his brother. it was quite dark and a wind, sharp with cold, was blowing. it came over vast wastes, and as it swept across the swells kept up a bitter moaning sound. dick shivered and fastened his deerskin tunic a little tighter. he looked up at the sky. not a star was there, and sullen black clouds rolled very near to the earth. the cold had a raw damp in it, and dick feared those clouds. had it been day he could have seen his mountains, and he would have made for them at once, but now his eyes did not reach a hundred yards, and that bitter, moaning wind told him nothing save that he must fight hard against many things if he would keep the life that was in him. he had lost all idea of direction. north and south, east and west were the same to him, but one must go even if one went wrong. he tried all his limbs again and found that they were sound. the wound on his head had ceased to bleed and the ache was easier. he put his rifle on his shoulder, waved, almost unconsciously, a farewell to the horse, as one leaves the grave of a friend, and walked swiftly away, in what course he knew not. he felt much better with motion. the blood began to circulate more warmly, and hope sprang up. if only that bitter, moaning wind would cease. it was inexpressibly weird and dismal. it seemed to dick a song of desolation, it seemed to tell him at times that it was not worth while to try, that, struggle as he would, his doom was only waiting. dick looked up. the black clouds had sunk lower and they must open before long. if only day were near at hand, then he might choose the right course. hark! did he not hear hoof beats? he paused in doubt, and then lay down with his ear to the earth. then he distinctly heard the sound, the regular tread of a horse, urged forward in a straight course, and he knew that it could be made only by the sioux. but the sound indicated only one horse, or not more than two or three at the most. dick's courage sprang up. here was a real danger and not the mysterious chill that the moaning of the wind brought to him. if the sioux had found him, they had divided, and it was only a few of their number that he would have to face. he hugged his repeating rifle. it was a fine weapon, and just then he was in love with it. there was no ferocity in dick's nature, but the sioux were seeking the life that he wished to keep. he rose from the earth and walked slowly on in his original course. he had no doubt that the sioux, guided by some demon instinct, would overtake him. he looked around for a good place of defense, but saw none. just the same low swells, just the same bare earth, and not even a gully like that in which he had lain while the hunt of the buffalo wheeled about him. he heard the hoof beats distinctly now, and he became quite sure that they were made by only a single horseman. his own senses had become preternaturally acute, and, with the conviction that he was followed by but one, came a rush of shame. why should he, strong and armed, seek to evade a lone pursuer? he stopped, holding his rifle ready, and waited, a vague, shadowy figure, black on the black prairie. dick saw the phantom horseman rise on a swell, the faint figure of an indian and his pony, and there was no other. he was glad now that he had waited. the horse, trained for such work as this, gave the sioux warrior a great advantage, but he would fight it out with him. dick sank down on one knee in order to offer a smaller target, and thrust his rifle forward for an instant shot. but the sioux had stopped and was looking intently at the boy. for fully two minutes neither he nor his horse moved, and dick almost began to believe that he was the victim of an illusion, the creation of the desolate plains, the night, the floating black vapors, his tense nerves, and heated imagination. he was tempted to try a shot to see if it were real, but the distance and the darkness were too great. he strengthened his will and remained crouched and still, his finger ready for the trigger of his rifle. the sioux and his horse moved at last, but they did not come forward; they rode slowly toward the right, curving in a circle about the kneeling boy, but coming no nearer. they were still vague and indistinct, but they seemed blended into one, and the supernatural aspect of the misty form of horse and rider increased. the horse trod lightly now, and dick no longer heard the sound of footsteps, only the bitter moaning of the wind over the vast dark spaces. the rider rode silently on his circle about the boy, and dick turned slowly with him, always facing the eyes that faced him. he could dimly make out the shape of a rifle at the saddlebow, but the sioux did not raise it, he merely rode on in that ceaseless treadmill tramp, and dick wondered what he meant to do. was he waiting for the others to come up? time passed and there was no sign of a second horseman. the single warrior still rode around him, and dick still turned with him. he might be coming nearer in his ceaseless curves, but dick could not tell. although he was the hub of the circle, he began to have a dizzy sensation, as if the world were swimming about him. he became benumbed, as if his head were that of a whirling dervish. dick became quite sure now that the warrior and his horse were unreal, a creation of the vapors and the mists, and that he himself was dreaming. he saw, too, at last that they were coming nearer, and he felt horror, as if something demonic were about to seize him and drag him down. he crouched so long that he felt pain in his knees, and all things were becoming a blur before his eyes. yet there had not been a sound but that of the bitter, moaning wind. there was a flash, a shot, the sigh of a bullet rushing past, and dick came out of his dream. the sioux had raised the rifle from his saddlebow and fired. but he had been too soon. the shifting and deceptive quality of the darkness caused him to miss. dick promptly raised his own rifle and fired in return. he also missed, but a second bullet from the warrior cut a lock from his temple. dick was now alert in every nerve. he had not wanted the life of this savage, but the savage wanted his; it seemed also that everything was in favor of the savage getting it, but his own spirit rose to meet the emergency; he, too, became the hunter. he sank a little lower and saved his fire until the warrior galloped nearer. then he sent a bullet so close that he saw one of the long eagle feathers drop from the hair of the warrior. the sight gave him a savage exultation that he would have believed a few hours before impossible to him. the next bullet might not merely clip a feather! the sioux, contrary to the custom of the indian, did not utter a sound, nor did dick say a word. the combat, save for the reports of the rifle shots, went on in absolute silence. it lasted a full ten minutes, when the indian urged his horse to a gallop, threw himself behind the body and began firing under the neck. a bullet struck dick in the left arm and wounded him slightly, but it did not take any of his strength and spirit. dick sought in vain for a sight of the face of his fleeting foe. he could catch only a glimpse of long, trailing hair beneath the horse's mane, and then would come the flash of a rifle shot. another bullet clipped his side, but only cut the skin. nevertheless, it stung, and while it stung the body it stung dick's wits also into keener action. he knew that the sioux warrior was steadily coming closer and closer in his deadly circle, and in time one of his bullets must strike a vital spot, despite the clouds and darkness. dick steadied himself, calming every nerve and muscle. then he lay down on his stomach on the plain, resting slightly on his elbow, and took careful aim at the flying pony. he felt some regret as he looked down the sights. this horse might be as faithful and true as the one that had carried him to temporary safety, but he must do the deed. he marked the brown patch of hair that lay over the heart and pulled the trigger. dick's aim was true--the vapors and clouds had not disturbed it--and when the rifle flashed, the pony bounded into the and fell dead. but the agile sioux leaped clear and darted away. dick marked his brown body, and then was his opportunity to send a mortal bullet, but a feeling of which he was almost ashamed held his hand. his foe was running, and he was no longer hunted. the feeling lasted but a moment, and when it passed, the sioux was out of range. a moment later and his misty foe had become a part of the solid darkness. dick stood upright once more. he had been the victor in a combat that still had for him all the elements of the ghostly. he had triumphed, but just in time. his nerves were relaxed and unstrung, and his hands were damp. he carefully reloaded all the empty chambers of his repeating rifle, and without looking at the falling horse, which he felt had suffered for the wickedness of another, strode away again over the plain, abandoning the rifle of the fallen sioux as a useless burden. it took dick sometime after his fight with the phantom horseman to come back to real earth. then he noticed that both the clouds and the dampness had increased, and presently something cold and wet settled upon his face. it was a flake of snow, and a troop came at its heels, gentle but insistent, chilling his hands and gradually whitening the earth, until it was a gleaming floor under a pall of darkness. dick was in dismay. here was a foe that he could not fight with rifle balls. he knew that the heavy clouds would continue to pour forth snow, and the day, which he thought was not far away, would disclose as little as the night. the white pall would hide the mountains as well as the black pall had done, and he might be going farther and father from his valley. he felt that he had been released from one danger and then another, only to encounter a third. it seemed to him, in his minute of despair, that fate had resolved to defeat all his efforts, but, the minute over, he renewed his courage and trudged bravely on, he knew not whither. it was fortunate for him that he wore a pair of the heavy shoes saved from the wagon, and put on for just such a journey as this. the wet from the snow would have soon soaked though his moccasins, but, as his thick deerskin leggings fitted well over his shoes, he kept dry, and that was a comfort. the snow came down without wind and fuss, but more heavily than ever, persistent, unceasing, and sure of victory. it was not particularly cold, and the walking kept up a warm and pleasant circulation in dick's veins. but he knew that he must not stop. whether he was going on in a straight line he had no way to determine. he had often heard that men, lost on the plains, soon begin to travel in a circle, and he watched awhile for his own tracks; but if they were there, they were covered up by snow too soon for him to see, and, after all, what did it matter? he saw after a while a pallid yellowish light showing dimly through the snow, and he knew that it was the sunrise. but it illuminated nothing. the white gloom began to replace the black one. it was soon full day, but the snow was so thick that he could not see more than two or three hundred yards in any direction. he longed now for shelter, some kind of hollow, or perhaps a lone tree. the incessant fall of the snow upon his head and its incessant clogging under his feet were tiring him, but he only trod a plain, naked save for its blanket of snow. dick had been careful to keep his rifle dry, putting the barrel of it under his long deerskin coat. once as he shifted it, he felt a lump over his chest, and for an instant or two did not know what caused it. then he remember the history and geography of the united states. he laughed with grim humor. "i am lost to history," he murmured, "and geography will not tell me where i am." he crossed a swell--he knew them now more by feeling than by sight--and before beginning the slight assent of the next one he stopped to eat. he had been enough of a frontiersman, before starting upon such a trip, to store jerked buffalo in the skin knapsack that he had saved for himself. the jerked meat offered the largest possible amount of sustenance in the smallest possible space, and dick ate eagerly. then he felt a great renewal of courage and strength. he also drank of the snow water, that is, he dissolved the snow in his mouth, but he did not like it much. he stood there for a while resting, and resolved only to walk enough to keep himself warm. certainly, nothing was to be gained by exhausting himself and the snow which was now a foot deep showed no signs of abating. the white gloom hung all about him and he could not see the sky overhead. just as he took this resolution, dick saw a shadow in the circling white. the shadow was like that of a man, but before he could see farther there was a little flash of red, a sharp, stinging report, and a bullet clipped the skin of his cheek, burning like fire. dick was startled, and for full cause--but he recognized the sioux warrior who had fought him on horseback. he had stared too long at that man and at a time too deadly not to know that head and face and the set of his figure. he had followed dick through all the hours and falling snow, bent upon taking his life. a second shot, quickly following the first, showed that he meant to miss no chance. the second bullet, like the first, just grazed dick, and mild of temper though he habitually was, he was instantly seized with the fiercest rage. he could not understand such hatred, such ferocity, such an eagerness to take human life. and this was the man whom he had spared, whom he could easily have slain when he was running! the sioux was raising his rifle for a third bullet, when dick shot him through the chest. there was no doubt about his aim now. it was not disturbed by the whitish mist and the falling snow. the sioux fell full length, without noise and without struggle, and his gun flew from his hand. his body lay half buried in the snow, some of the long eagle feathers in his hair thrusting up like the wing of a slain bird. dick looked at him with shuddering horror. all the anger was gone from him now, and it is true that in his heart he felt pity for this man, who had striven so hard and without cause to take his life. he would have been glad to go away now, but forced himself to approach and look down at the indian. the warrior lay partly on his side with one arm beneath his body. the blood from the bullet hole in his chest dyed the snow, and dick believed that he had been killed instantly. but dick would not touch him. he could not bring himself to do that. nor would he take any of his arms. instead, he turned away, after the single look, and, bending his head a little to the snow, walked rapidly toward the yellowish glare that told where the sun was rising. he did not know just why he went in that direction, but it seemed to him the proper thing to walk toward the morning. two hours, perhaps, passed and the fall of snow began to lighten. the flakes still came down steadily, but not in such a torrent. the area of vision widened. he saw dimly, as through a mist, three or four hundred yards, perhaps, but beyond was only the white blur, and there was nothing yet to tell him whether he was going toward the mountains or away from them. he rested and ate again. then he recovered somewhat, mentally as well as physically. part of the horror of the indian, his deadly pursuit, and the deadly ending passed. he ached with weariness and his nerves were quite unstrung, but the snow would cease, the skies would clear, and then he could tell which way lay the mountains and his brother. he rested here longer than usual and studied the plain as far as he could see it. he concluded that its character had changed somewhat, that the swells were high than they had been, and he was hopeful that he might find shelter soon, a deep gully, perhaps, or a shallow prairie stream with sheltering cottonwoods along its course. another hour passed, but he did not make much progress. the snow was now up to his knees, and it became an effort to walk. the area of vision had widened, but no mountains yet showed through the white mist. he was becoming tired with a tiredness that was scarcely to be born. if he stood still long enough to rest he became cold, a deadly chill that he knew to be the precursor of death's benumbing sleep would creep over him, and then he would force himself to resume the monotonous, aching walk. dick's strength waned. his eyesight, affected by the glare of the snow, became short and unsteady, and he felt a dizziness of the brain. things seemed to dance about, but his will was so strong that he could still reason clearly, and he knew that he was in desperate case. it was his will that resisted the impulse of his flesh to throw his rifle away as a useless burden, but he laughed aloud when he thought of the map of the united states in the inside pocket of his coat. "they'll find me, if they ever find me, with that upon me," he said aloud, "and they, too, will laugh." he stumbled against something and doubled his fist angrily as if he would strike a man who had maliciously got in his way. it was the solid bark of a big cottonwood that had stopped him, and his anger vanished in joy. where one cottonwood was, others were likely to be, and their presence betokened a stream, a valley, and a shelter of some kind. he was still dazed, suffering partially from snow blindness, but now he saw a line of sturdy cottonwoods and beyond it another line. the stream, he knew, flowed between. he went down the line a few hundred yards and came, as he had hoped, into more broken ground. the creek ran between banks six or seven feet high, with a margin between stream and bank, and the cottonwoods on these banks were reinforced by some thick clumps of willows. between the largest clump and the line of cottonwoods, with the bank as a shelter for the third side, was a comparatively clear space. the snow was only a few inches deep there, and dick believed that he could make a shelter. he had, of course, brought his blanket with him in a tight roll on his back, and he was hopeful enough to have some thought of building a fire. he stooped down to feel in the snow at a likely spot, and the act saved his life. a bullet, intended for his head, was buried in the snow beyond him, and a body falling down the bank lay quite still at his feet. it was the long sioux. wounded mortally, he had followed dick, nevertheless, with mortal intent, crawling, perhaps most of the time, and with his last breath he had fired what he intended to be the fatal shot. he was quite dead now, his power for evil gone forever. there could be no doubt about it. dick at length forced himself to touch the face. it had grown cold and the pulse in the wrist was still. it yet gave him a feeling of horror to touch the sioux, but his own struggle for life would be bitter and he could spare nothing. the dead warrior wore a good blanket, which dick now took, together with his rifle and ammunition, but he left all the rest. then he dragged the warrior from the sheltered space to a deep snow bank, where he sank him out of sight. he even took the trouble to heap more snow upon him in the form of a burial, and he felt a great relief when he could no longer see the savage brown features. he went back to his sheltered space, and, upon the single unprotected side threw up a high wall of snow, so high that it would serve as a wind-break. then he began to search for fallen brushwood. meanwhile, it was turning colder, and a bitter wind began to moan across the plain. chapter xii the fight with nature dick realized suddenly that he was very cold. the terrible pursuit was over, ending mortally for the pursuer, but he was menaced by a new danger. sheltered though his little valley was, he could, nevertheless, freeze to death in it with great ease. in fact, he had begun already to shiver, and he noticed that while his feet were dry, the snow at last had soaked through his deerskin leggings and he was wet from knee to ankle. the snow had ceased, although a white mist hovered in a great circle and the chill of the wind was increasing steadily. he must have a fire or die. he resumed his search, plunging into the snow banks under the cottonwoods and other trees, and at last he brought out dead boughs, which he broke into short pieces and piled in a heap in the center of the open space. the wood was damp on the outside, of course, but he expected nothing better and was not discouraged. selecting a large, well-seasoned piece, he carefully cut away all the wet outside with his strong hunting knife. then he whittled off large quantities of dry shavings, put them under the heap of boughs, and took from his inside a pocket a small package of lucifer matches. dick struck one of the matches across the heel of his shoe. no spark leaped up. instead, his heart sank down, sank further, perhaps, than it had ever done before in his life. the match was wet. he took another from the pocket; it, too, was wet, and the next and the next and all. the damp from the snow, melted by the heat of his body, had penetrated his buckskin coat, although in the excitement of pursuit and combat he had not noticed it. dick was in despair. he turned to the snow a face no less white. had he escaped all the dangers of the sioux for this? to freeze to death merely because he did not have a dry lucifer match? the wind was still rising and it cut to his very marrow. reality and imagination were allied, and dick was almost overpowered. he angrily thrust the wet little package of matches back into the inside pocket of his coat--his border training in economy had become so strong that even in the moment of despair he would throw away nothing--and his hand in the pocket came into contact with something else, small, hard, and polished. dick instantly felt a violent revulsion from despair to hope. the small object was a sunglass. that wagon train was well equipped. dick had made salvage of two sunglasses, and in a moment of forethought had given one to albert, keeping the other for himself, each agreeing then and there to carry his always for the moment of need that might come. dick drew out the sunglass and fingered it as one would a diamond of great size. then he looked up. a brilliant sun was shining beyond white, misty clouds, but its rays came through them dim and weak. the mists or, rather, cloudy vapor might lift or thin, and in that chance lay the result of his fight for life. while he waited a little, he stamped up and down violently, and threw his arms about with energy. it did not have much effect. the wet, cold, the raw kind that goes through, was in him and, despite all the power of his will, he shivered almost continually. but he persisted for a half hour and then became conscious of an increasing brightness about him. the white mist was not gone, but it was thinning greatly, and the rays of the sun fell on the snow brilliant and strong. dick took the dry stick again and scraped off particles of wood so fine that they were almost a power. he did not stop until he had a little heap more than an inch high. meanwhile, the sun's rays, pouring through the whitish mist, continued to grow fuller and stronger. dick carefully polished the glass and held it at the right angle between the touchwood, that is, the scrapings, and the sun. the rays passing through the glass increased many times in power and struck directly upon the touchwood. dick crouched over the wood in order to protect it from the wind, and watched, his breath constricted, while his life waited on the chance. a minute, two minutes, three minutes, five passed and then a spark appeared in the touchwood, and following it came a tiny flame. dick shouted with joy and shifted his body a little to put shavings on the touchwood. an ill wind struck the feeble blaze, which was not yet strong enough to stand fanning into greater life, and it went out, leaving a little black ash to mark where the touchwood had been. dick's nerves were so much overwrought that he cried aloud again, and now it was a cry of despair, not of joy. he looked at the little black ash as if his last chance were gone, but his despair did not last long. he seized the dry stick again and scraped off another little pile of touchwood. once more the sunglass and once more the dreadful waiting, now longer than five minutes and nearer ten, while dick waited in terrible fear, lest the sun itself should fail him, and go behind impenetrable clouds. but the second spark came and after it, as before, followed the little flame. no turning aside now to allow a cruel chance to an ill wind. instead, he bent down his body more closely than ever to protect the vital blaze, and, reaching out one cautious arm, fed it first with the smallest of the splinters, and then with the larger in an ascending scale. up leaped the flames, red and strong. dick's body could not wholly protect them now, but they fought for themselves. when the wind shrieked and whipped against them, they waved back defiance, and the more the wind whipped them, the higher and stronger they grew. the victory was with the flames, and dick fed them with wood, almost with his body and soul, and all the time as the wind bent them over they crackled and ate deeper and deeper into the wood. he could put on damp wood now. the flames merely leaped out, licked up the melted snow with a hiss and a sputter, and developed the stick in a mass of glowing red. dick fed his fire a full half hour, hunting continually in the snow under the trees for brushwood and finding much of it, enough to start a second fire at the far end of the sheltered place, with more left in reserve. he spent another half hour heaping up the snow as a bulwark about his den, and then sat down between the two fires to dry and warm, almost to roast himself. it was the first time that dick understood how much pleasure could be drawn from a fire alone. what beautiful red and yellow flames! what magnificent glowing coals! what a glorious thing to be there, while the wind above was howling over the snowy and forlorn plain! his clothes dried rapidly. he no longer shivered. the grateful warmth penetrated every fiber of him and it seemed strange now that he should have been in despair only an hour ago. life was a wonderful and brilliant thing. there was no ache in his bones, and the first tingling of his hands, ears, and nose he had relieved with the application of wet snow. now he felt only comfort. after a while dick ate again of his jerked buffalo meat, and with the food, warmth, and rest, he began to feel sleepy. he plunged into the snow, hunted out more wood to add to his reserve, and then, with the two blankets, the indian's and his own, wrapped about him, sat down where the heat of the two fires could reach him from either side, and with a heap of the wood as a rest for his back. dick did not really intend to go to sleep, but he had been through great labors and dangers and had been awake long. he drew up one of the blankets until it covered all of his head and most of his face, and began to gaze into the coals of the larger fire. the wind--and it was now so cold that the surface of the snow was freezing--still whistled over him, but the blanket protected his head from its touch. the whistle instead increased his comfort like the patter of rain on a roof to him who is dry inside. the fire had now burned down considerable and the beds of coals were large and beautiful. they enveloped dick in their warmth and cheer and began to pain splendid words of hope for him. he could read what they said in glowing letters, but the singular feeling of peace and rest deepened all the while. he wondered vaguely that one could be so happy. the white snow became less white, the red fire less red, and a great gray mist came floating down over dick's eyes. up rose a shadowy world in which all things were vague and wavering. then the tired lids dropped down, the gray mist gave way to a soft blackness, and dick sank peacefully into the valley of sleep. the boy slept heavily hour after hour, with his hooded head sunk upon his knees, and his rifle lying across his lap, while over him shrieked the coldest wind of the great northwestern plains. the surface of the frozen ground presented a gleaming sheet like ice, over which the wind acquired new strength and a sharper edge, but the boy in his alcove remained safe and warm. now and then a drift of fine snowy particles that would have stung like small shot was blown over the barrier, but they only stuck upon the thick folds of the blankets and the boy slept on. the white mist dissolved. the sun poured down beams brilliantly cold and hard, and over them was the loom of the mountains, but the boy knew nothing of them, nor cared. the fires ceased to flame and became great masses of glowing coals that would endure long. the alcove was filled with the grateful warmth, and when the sun was in the zenith, dick still slept, drawing long, regular breaths from a deep strong chest. the afternoon grew and waned, twilight came over the desolate snow fields, the loom of the mountains was gone, and the twilight gave way to an icy night. when dick awoke it was quite dark, save for the heaps of coals which still glowed and threw out warmth. he felt at first a little wonderment that he had slept so long, but he was not alarmed. his forethought and energy had provided plenty of wood and he threw on fresh billets. once more the flames leaped up to brighten and to cheer, and dick, walking to the edge of his snow bank, looked over. the wind had piled up the snow there somewhat higher before the surface froze, and across the barrier he gazed upon some such scene as one might behold near the north pole. he seemed to be looking over ice fields that stretched away to infinity, and the wind certainly had a voice that was a compound of chill and desolation. it was so solemn and weird that dick was glad to duck down again into his den, and resume the seat where he had slept so long. he ate a little and then tried to slumber again, but he had already slept so much that he remained wide awake. he opened his eyes and let them stay open, after several vain efforts. the moonlight now came out with uncommon brilliancy and the plain glittered. but it was the coldest moon that dick had ever seen. he began to feel desolate and lonely again, and, since he could not sleep, he longed for something to do. then the knowledge came to him. he put on fresh wood, and between firelight and moonlight he could see everything clearly. satisfied with his light, dick took from his pocket the history of the united states that was accompanying him so strangely in his adventures, and began to study it. he looked once more at the map of the rocky mountain territories, and judged that he was in southern montana. although his curiosity as to the exact spot in which he lay haunted him, there was no way to tell, and turning the leaves away from the map, he began to read. it was chance, perhaps, that made him open at the story that never grows old to american youth--valley forge. it was not a great history, it had no brilliant and vivid style, but the simple facts were enough for dick. he read once more of the last hope of the great man, never greater than then, praying in the snow, and his own soul leaped at the sting of example. he was only a boy, obscure, unknown, and the fate of but two rested with him, yet he, too, would persevere, and in the end his triumph also would be complete. he read no further, but closed the book and returned it carefully to his pocket. then he stared into the fire, which he built up higher that the cheerful light might shine before him. dick did not hide from himself even now the dangers of his position. he was warm and sheltered for the present, he had enough of the jerked buffalo to last several days, but sooner or later he must leave his den and invade the snowy plain with its top crust of ice. this snow might last two or three weeks or a month. it was true that spring had come, but it was equally true, as so often happens in the great northwest, that spring had refused to stay. dick tried now to see the mountains. the night was full of brilliant moonlight, but the horizon was too limited; it ended everywhere, a black wall against the snow, and still speculating and pondering, dick at last fell asleep again. when the boy awoke it was another clear, cold day, with the wind still blowing, and there in the northwest he joyously saw the white line of the mountains. he believed that he could recognize the shape of certain peaks and ridges, and he fixed on a spot in the blue sky which he was sure overhung castle howard. dick saw now that he had been going away from the mountains. he was certainly farther than he had been when he first met the sioux, and it was probable that he had been wandering then in an irregular course, with its general drift toward the southwest. the mountains in the thin, high air looked near, but his experience of the west told him that they were far, forty miles perhaps, and the tramp that lay before him was a mighty undertaking. he prepared for it at once. he cut a stout stick that would serve as a cane, looked carefully to the security of his precious sun glass, and bidding his little den, which already had begun to wear some of the aspects of a home, a regretful farewell, started through the deep snow. he had wrapped his head in the indian's blanket, covering everything but eyes, nose, and mouth, and he did not suffer greatly from the bitter wind. but it was weary work breaking the way through the snow, rendered all the more difficult by the icy crust on top. the snow rose to his waist and he broke it at first with his body, but by and by he used the stick, and thus he plodded on, not making much more than a mile an hour. dick longed now for the shelter of the warm den. the cold wind, despite the protection of the blanket, began to seek out the crannies in it and sting his face. he knew that he was wet again from ankle to knee, but he struggled resolutely on, alike for the sake of keeping warm and for the sake of shortening the distance. yet there were other difficulties than those of the snow. the ground became rough. now and then he would go suddenly through the treacherous snow into an old buffalo wallow or a deep gully, and no agility could keep him from falling on his face or side. this not only made him weary and sore, but it was a great trial to his temper also, and the climax came when he went through the snow into a prairie brook and came out with his shoes full of water. dick shivered, stamped his feet violently, and went on painfully breaking his way through the snow. he began to have that dull stupor of mind and body again. he could see nothing on the surface of the white plain save himself. the world was entirely desolate. but if the sioux were coming a second time he did not care. he was amused at the thought of the sioux coming. there were hidden away somewhere in some snug valley, and were too sensible to venture upon the plain. late in the afternoon the wind became so fierce, and dick was so tired, that he dug a hole in the deepest snow bank he could find, wrapped the blankets tightly around him, and crouched there for warmth and shelter. then, when the muscles were at rest, he began to feel the cold all through his wet feet and legs. he took off his shoes and leggings inside the shelter of his blankets, and chafed feet and legs with vigorous hands. this restored warmth and circulation, but he was compelled after a while to put on his wet garments again. he had gained a rest, however, and as he did not fear the damp so much while he was moving, he resumed the painful march. the mountains seemed as far away as ever, but dick knew that he had come five or six miles. he could look back and see his own path through the deep snow, winding and zigzagging toward the northwest. it would wind and zigzag no matter how hard he tried to go in a straight line, and finally he refused to look back any more at the disclosure of his weakness. he sought more trees before the sun went down, as his glass could no longer be of use without them, but found none. there could be no fire for him that night, and digging another deep hole in the snow he slept the darkness through, nevertheless, warmly and comfortably, like an eskimo in his ice hut. he did not suffer as much as he had thought he would from his wet shoes and leggings, and in the night, wrapped within the blankets they dried on him. dick spent the second day in alternate tramps of an hour and rests of half an hour. he was conscious that he was growing weaker from this prodigious exertion, but he was not willing to acknowledge it. in the afternoon he came upon a grove of cottonwoods and some undergrowth and he tried to kindle a fire, but the sun was not strong enough for his glass, and, after an hour's wasted effort, he gave it up, discouraged greatly. before night the wind, which had been from the northwest, shifted to the southwest and became much warmer. by and by it snowed again heavily and dick, who could no longer see his mountains, being afraid that he would wander in the wrong direction, dug another burrow and went to sleep. he was awakened by the patter of something warm upon his face, and found that the day and rain had come together. dick once more was struck to the heart with dismay. how could he stand this and the snow together? the plain would now run rivers of water and he must trudge through a terrible mire, worse even than the snow. he imagined that he could see his mountains through the rain sheets, and he resumed his march, making no effort now to keep anything but his rifle and ammunition dry. he crossed more than one brook, either permanent or made by the rain and melting snow, and sloshed though the water, ankle deep, but paid no attention to it. he walked with intervals of rest all through the day and the night, and the warm rain never ceased. the snow melted at a prodigious rate, and dick thought several times in the night that he heard the sound of plunging waters. these must be cataracts from the snow and rain, and he was convinced that he was near the mountains. the day came again, the rain ceased, the sun sprang out, the warm winds blew, and there were the mountains. perhaps the snow had not been so heavy on them as on the plain, but most of it was gone from the peaks and slopes and they stood up, sheltering and beautiful, with a shade of green that the snow had not been able to take away. the sight put fresh courage in dick's heart, but he was very weak. he staggered as he plowed through the mixed snow and mud, and plains and mountains alike were rocking about in a most uncertain fashion. in a ravine at the foot of the mountains he saw a herd of about twenty buffaloes which had probably taken refuge there from the snowstorm, but he did not molest them. instead, he shook his rifle at them and called out: "i'm too glad to escape with my own life to take any of yours." dick's brain was in a feverish state and he was not wholly responsible for what he said or did, but he began the ascent with a fairly good supply of strength and toiled on all the day. he never knew where he slept that night, but he thinks it was in a clump of pines, and the next morning when he continued, he felt that he had made a wonderful improvement. his feet were light and so was his head, but he had never before seen slopes and peaks and pines and ash doing a daylight dance. they whirled about in the most eccentric manner, yet it was all exhilarating, in thorough accord with his own spirits, and dick laughed aloud with glee. what a merry, funny world it was! feet and head both grew lighter. he shouted aloud and began to sing. then he felt so strong and exuberant that he ran down one of the slopes, waving his cap. an elk sprang out of a pine thicket, stared a moment or two with startled eyes at the boy, and then dashed away over the mountain. dick continued to sing, and waved his fur cap at the fleeing elk. it was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life. the whirling dance of mountain and forest became bewildering in its speed and violence. he was unable to keep his feet, and plunged forward into the arms of his brother, albert. then everything sank away from him. chapter xiii albert's victory when dick opened his eyes again he raised his hand once more to wave it at the fleeing elk and then he stopped in astonishment. the hand was singularly weak. he had made a great effort, but it did not go up very far. nor did his eyes, which had opened slowly and heavily, see any elk. they saw instead rows and rows of furs and then other rows hanging above one another. his eyes traveled downward and they saw log walls almost covered with furs and skins, but with rifles, axes, and other weapons and implements on hooks between. a heavy oaken window shutter was thrown back and a glorious golden sunlight poured into the room. the sunlight happened to fall upon dick's own hand, and that was the next object at which he looked. his amazement increased. could such a thin white hand as that belong to him who had lately owned such a big red one? he surveyed it critically, in particular, the bones showing so prominently in the back of it, and then he was interrupted by a full, cheerful voice which called out: "enough of that stargazing and hand examination! here, drink this soup, and while you're doing it, i'll tell you how glad i am to see you back in your right mind! i tell you you've been whooping out some tall yarns about an indian following you for a year or two through snow a mile or so deep! how you fought him for a month without stopping! and how you then waded for another year through snow two or three times as deep as the first!" it was his brother albert, and he lay on his own bed of furs and skins in their own cabin, commonly called by them castle howard, snugly situated in the lost or enchanted valley. and here was albert, healthy, strong, and dictatorial, while he, stretched weakly upon a bed, held our a hand through which the sun could almost shine. truly, there had been great changes! he raised his head as commanded by albert--the thin, pallid, drooping albert of last summer, the lusty, red-faced albert of to-day--and drank the soup, which tasted very good indeed. he felt stronger and held up the thin, white hand to see if it had not grown fatter and redder in the last ten seconds. albert laughed, and it seemed to dick such a full, loud laugh, as if it were drawn up from a deep, iron-walled chest, inclosing lungs made of leather, with an uncommon expansion. it jarred upon dick. it seemed too loud for so small a room. "i see you enjoyed that soup, dick, old fellow," continued albert in the same thundering tones. "well, you ought to like it. it was chicken soup, and it was made by an artist--myself. i shot a fat and tender prairie hen down the valley, and here she is in soup. it's only a step from grass to pot and i did it all myself. have another." "think i will," said dick. he drank a second tin plate of the soup, and he could feel life and strength flowing into every vein. "how did i get here, al?" he asked. "that's a pretty hard question to answer," replied albert, smiling and still filling the room with his big voice. "you were partly brought, partly led, partly pushed, you partly walked, partly jumped, and partly crawled, and there were even little stretches of the march when you were carried on somebody's shoulder, big and heavy as you are. dick, i don't know any name for such a mixed gait. words fail me." dick smiled, too. "well, no matter how i got here, it's certain that i'm here," he said, looking around contentedly. "absolutely sure, and it's equally as sure that you've been here five days. i, the nurse, i, the doctor, and i, the spectator, can vouch for that. there were times when i had to hold you in your bed, there were times when you were so hot with fever that i expected to see you burst into a mass of red and yellow flames, and most all the while you talked with a vividness and imagination that i've never known before outside of the arabian nights. dick, where did you get the idea about a sioux indian following you all the way from the atlantic to the pacific, with stops every half hour for you and him to fight?" "it's true," said dick, and then he told the eager boy the story of his escape from the sioux band, the terrible pursuit, the storm, and his dreadful wandering. "it was wonderful luck that i met you, al, old fellow," he said devoutly. "not luck exactly," said albert. "you were coming back to the valley on our old trail, and, as i had grown very anxious about you, i was out on the same path to see if i could see any sign of you. it was natural that we should meet, but i think that, after all, dick, providence had the biggest hand in it." "no doubt," said dick, and after a moment's pause he added, "did it snow much up here?" "but lightly. the clouds seem to have avoided these mountains. it was only from your delirium that i gathered the news of the great storm on the plains. now, i think you've talked enough for an invalid. drop you head back on that buffalo robe and go to sleep again." it seemed so amazing to dick ever to receive orders from albert that he obeyed promptly, closed his eyes, and in five minutes was in sound slumber. albert hovered about the room, until he saw that dick was asleep and breathing strongly and regularly. then he put his hand on dick's brow, and when he felt the temperature his own eyes were lighted up by a fine smile. that forehead, hot so long, was cool now, and it would be only a matter of a few days until dick was his old, strong and buoyant self again. albert never told his brother how he had gone two days and nights without sleep, watching every moment by the delirious bedside, how, taking the chances, he had dosed him with quinine from their medical stores, and how, later, he had cooked for him the tenderest and most delicate food. nor did he speak of those awful hours--so many of them--when dick's life might go at any time. albert knew now that the great crisis was over, and rejoicing, he went forth from castle howard. it was his intention to kill another prairie chicken and make more of the soup that dick liked so much. as he walked, his manner was expansive, indicating a deep satisfaction. dick had saved his life and he had saved dick's. but dick was still an invalid and it was his duty, meanwhile to carry on the business of the valley. he was sole workman, watchman, and defender, and his spirit rose to meet the responsibility. he would certainly look after his brother as well as anyone could do it. albert whistled as he went along, and swung his gun in debonair fashion. it would not take him, an expert borderer and woodsman, long to get that prairie chicken, and after that, as he had said before, it was only a step from grass to pot. it was perhaps the greatest hour of albert howard's life. he, the helped, was now the helper; he, the defended, was now the defender. his chest could scarcely contain the mighty surge of exultation that heart and lungs together accomplished. he was far from having any rejoicings over dick's prostration; he rejoiced instead that he was able, since the prostration had come, to care for both. he had had the forethought and courage to go forth and seek for dick, and the strength to save him when found. albert broke into a rollicking whistle and he still swung his shotgun somewhat carelessly for a hunter and marksman. he passed by one of the geysers just as it was sending up its high column of hot water and its high column of steam. "that's the way i feel, old fellow," he said. "i could erupt with just as much force." he resumed his caution farther on and shot two fine, fat prairie hens, returning with them to castle howard before dick awoke. when dick did awake, the second installment of the soup was ready for him and he ate it hungrily. he was naturally so strong and vigorous and had lived such a wholesome life that he recovered, now that the crisis was past, with astonishing rapidity. but albert played the benevolent tyrant for a few days yet, insisting that dick should sleep a great number of hours out of every twenty-four, and making him eat four times a day of the tenderest and most succulent things. he allowed him to walk but a little at first, and, though the walks were extended from day to day, made him keep inside when the weather was bad. dick took it all, this alternate spoiling and overlordship, with amazing mildness. he had some dim perception of the true state of affairs, and was willing that his brother should enjoy his triumph to the full. but in a week he was entirely well again, thin and pale yet, but with a pulsing tide in his veins as strong as ever. then he and albert took counsel with each other. all trace of snow was gone, even far up on the highest slope, and the valley was a wonderful symphony in green and gold, gold on the lake and green on the new grass and the new leaves of the trees. "it's quite settled," said albert, "that we're to stay another year in the valley." "oh, yes," said dick, "we had already resolved on that, and my excursion on the plains shows that we were wise in doing so. but you know, al, we can't do fur hunting in the spring and summer. furs are not in good condition now." "no," said albert, "but we can get ready for the fall and winter, and i propose that we undertake right away a birchbark canoe. the dugout is a little bit heavy and awkward, hard to control in a high wind, and we'll really need the birch bark." "good enough," said dick. "we'll do it." with the habits of promptness and precision they had learned from old mother necessity, they went to work at once, planning and toiling on equal terms, a full half-and-half partnership. both were in great spirits. in this task they fell back partly on talk that they had heard from some of the men with whom they had started across the plains, and partly on old reading, and it took quite a lot of time. they looked first for large specimens of the white birch, and finally found several on one of the lower slopes. this was the first and, in fact, the absolutely vital requisite. without it they could do nothing, but, having located their bark supply, they left the trees and began at the lake edge the upper framework of their canoe, consisting of four strips of cedar, two for either side of the boat, every one of the four having a length of about fifteen feet. these strips had a width of about an inch, with a thickness a third as great. the strips were tied together in pairs at the ends, and the two pairs were joined together at the same place after the general fashion in use for the construction of such canoes. the frame being ready, they went to their white birch trees for the bark. they marked off the utmost possible length on the largest and finest tree, made a straight cut through the bark at either end, and triumphantly peeled off a splendid piece, large enough for the entire canoe. then they laid it on the ground in a nice smooth place and marked off a distance two feet less than their framework or gunwales. they drove into the ground at each end of this space two tall stakes, three inches apart. the bark was then laid upon the ground inside up and folded evenly throughout its entire length. after that it was lifted and set between the stakes with the edges up. the foot of bark projecting beyond each stake was covered in each case with another piece of bark folded firmly over it and sewed to the sides by means of an awl and deer tendon. this sewing done, they put a large stone under each end of the bark construction, causing it to sag from the middle in either direction into the curve suitable for a canoe. the gunwale which they had constructed previously was now fitted into the bark, and the bark was stitched tightly to it, both at top and bottom, with a further use of awl and tendon, the winding stitch being used. they now had the outside of the canoe, but they had drawn many a long breath and perspired many a big drop before it was done. they felt, however, that the most serious part of the task was over, and after a short rest they began on the inside, which they lined with long strips of cedar running the full length of the boat. the pieces were about an inch and a half in width and about a third of an inch in thickness and were fitted very closely together. over these they put the ribs of touch ash, which was very abundant in the valley and on the slopes. strips two inches wide and a half inch thick were bent crosswise across the interior of the curve, close together, and were firmly fastened under the gunwales with a loop stitch of the strong tendon through the bark. to make their canoe firm and steady, they securely lashed three string pieces across it and then smeared deeply all the seams with pitch, which they were fortunate enough to secure from one of the many strange springs and exudations in the valley. they now had a strong, light canoe, fifteen feet long and a little over two feet wide at the center. they had been compelled to exercise great patience and endurance in this task, particularly in the work with the awl and tendons. skillful as they had become with their hands, they acquired several sore fingers in the task, but their pride was great when it was done. they launched the canoe, tried it several times near the shore in order to detect invisible seams, and then, when all such were stopped up tightly with pitch, they paddled boldly out into deep and far waters. the practice they had acquired already with the dugout helped them greatly with the birch bark, and after one or two duckings they handled it with great ease. as amateurs sometimes do, they had achieved either by plan or accident a perfect design and found that they had a splendid canoe. this was demonstrated when the two boys rowed a race, after dick had recovered his full strength--dick in the dugout and albert in the birch bark. the race was the full length of the lake, and the younger and smaller boy won an easy triumph. "well paddled, al!" said dick. "it wasn't the paddling, dick," replied albert, "it was light bark against heavy wood that did it." they were very proud of their two canoes and made a little landing for them in a convenient cove. here, tied to trees with skin lariats, they were safe from wind and wave. an evening or two after the landing was made secure, dick, who had been out alone, came home in the dark and found albert reading a book by the firelight. "what's this?" he exclaimed. "i took it out of the inside pocket of your coat, when i help you here in the snow," replied albert. "i put it on a shelf and in the strain of your illness forgot all about it until to-day." "that's my history and map of the united states," said dick, smiling. "i took it from the wagon which yielded up so much to us. it wouldn't tell me where i was in the storm; but, do you know, al, it helped me when i read in there about that greatest of all men praying in the snow." "i know who it is whom you mean," said albert earnestly, "and i intend to read about him and all the others. it's likely, dick, before another year is past, that you and i will become about the finest historians of our country to be found anywhere between the atlantic and pacific. maybe this is the greatest treasure of all that the wagon has yielded up to us." albert was right. a single volume, where no other could be obtained, was a precious treasure to them, and it made many an evening pass pleasantly that would otherwise have been dull. they liked especially to linger over the hardships of the borderers and of their countrymen in war, because they found so many parallels to their own case, and the reading always brought them new courage and energy. they spent the next month after the completion of the canoe in making all kinds of traps, including some huge dead falls for grizzly bear and silver tip. they intended as soon as the autumn opened to begin their fur operations on a much larger scale than those of the year before. numerous excursions into the surrounding mountains showed abundant signs of game and no signs of an invader, and they calculated that if all went well they would have stored safely by next spring at least twenty thousand dollars' worth of furs. the summer passed pleasantly for both, being filled with work in which they took a great interest, and hence a great pleasure. they found another rock cavity, which they fitted up like the first in anticipation of an auspicious trapping season. "they say, 'don't put all your eggs in one basket,'" said albert, "and so we won't put all our furs in one cave. the sioux may come sometime or other, and even if they should get our three residences, castle howard, the annex, and the suburban villa, and all that is in them, they are pretty sure to miss our caves and our furs." "of course some indians must know of this valley," said dick, "and most likely it's the sioux. perhaps none ever wander in here now, because they're at war with our people and are using all their forces on the plains." albert thought it likely, and both dick and he had moments when they wondered greatly what was occurring in the world without. but, on the whole, they were not troubled much by the affairs of the rest of the universe. traps, house building, and curing food occupied them throughout the summer. once the days were very hot in the valley, which served as a focus for the rays of the sun, but it was invariably cool, often cold, at night. they slept usually under a tent, or sometimes, on their longer expeditions in that direction, at the bark hut. dick made a point of this, as he resolved that albert should have no relapse. he could not see any danger of such a catastrophe, but he felt that another year of absolutely fresh and pure mountain air, breathed both night and day, would put his brother beyond all possible danger. the life that both led even in the summer was thoroughly hardening. they bathed every morning, if in the tent by castle howard, in the torrent, the waters of which were always icy, flowing as they did from melting snows on the highest peaks. they swam often in the lake, which was also cold always, and at one of the hot springs they hollowed out a pool, where they could take a hot bath whenever they needed it. the game increased in the valley as usual toward autumn, and they replenished their stores of jerked meat. they had spared their ammunition entirely throughout the summer and now they used it only on buffalo, elk, and mule deer. they were fortunate enough to catch several big bears in their huge dead falls, and, with very little expenditure of cartridges, they felt that they could open their second winter as well equipped with food as they had been when they began the first. they also put a new bark thatching on the roof of castle howard, and then felt ready for anything that might come. "rain, hail, sleet, snow, and ice, it's all the same to us," said dick. they did not resume their trapping until october came, as they knew that the furs would not be in good condition until then. they merely made a good guess that it was october. they had long since lost all count of days and months, and took their reckoning from the change of the foliage into beautiful reds and yellows and the increasing coldness of the air. it proved to be a cold but not rainy autumn, a circumstance that favored greatly their trapping operations. they had learned much in the preceding winter from observation and experience, and now they put it to practice. they knew many of the runways or paths frequented by the animals, and now they would place their traps in these, concealing them as carefully as possible, and, acting on an idea of albert's, they made buckskin gloves for themselves, with which they handled the traps, in order to leave, if possible, no human odor to warn the wary game. such devices as this and the more skillful making of their traps caused the second season to be a greater success than the first, good as the latter had been. they shot an additional number of buffaloes and elk, but what they sought in particular was the beaver, and they were lucky enough to find two or three new and secluded little streams, on which he had built his dams. the valuable furs now accumulated rapidly, and it was wise forethought that had made them fit up the second cave or hollow. they were glad to have two places for them, in case one was discovered by an enemy stronger than themselves. autumn turned into winter, with snow, slush, and ice-cold rain. the preceding winter had been mild, but this bade fair to break some records for severe and variegated weather. now came the true test for albert. to trudge all day long in snow, icy rain or deep slush, to paddle across the lake in a nipping wind, with the chilly spray all over him, to go for hours soaking wet on every inch of his skin--these were the things that would have surely tried the dwellers in the houses of men, even those with healthy bodies. albert coughed a little after his first big soaking, but after a hot bath, a big supper, and a long night's sleep, it left, not to return. he became so thoroughly inured now to exposure that nothing seemed to affect him. late in december--so they reckoned the time--when, going farther than usual into a long crevice of the mountains, they were overtaken by a heavy snowstorm. they might have reached the suburban villa by night, or they might not, but in any event the going would have been full of danger, and they decided to camp in the broadest part of the canyon in which they now were, not far from the little brook that flowed down it. they had matches with them--they were always careful to keep them dry now--and after securing their dry shavings they lighted a good fire. then they are their food, and looked up without fear at the dark mountains and the thick, driving snow. they were partially sheltered by the bank and some great ash trees, and, for further protection, they wrapped about themselves the blankets, without which they never went on any long journey. having each other for company, the adventure was like a picnic to both. it was no such desperate affair as that of dick's when he was alone on the plain. they further increased their shelter from the snow by an artful contrivance of brush and fallen boughs, and although enough still fell upon them to make miserable the house-bred, they did not care. both fell asleep after a while, with flurries of snow still striking upon their faces, and were awakened far in the night by the roar of an avalanche farther up the canyon; but they soon went to sleep again and arose the next day with injury. thus the winter passed, one of storm and cold, but the trapping was wonderful, and each boy grew in a remarkable manner in strength, endurance, and skill. when signs of spring appeared again, they decided that it was time for them to go. had it not been for dick's misadventure on the plain, and their belief that a great war was now in progress between the sioux and the white people, one might have gone out to return with horses and mules for furs, while the other remained behind to guard them. but in view of all the dangers, they resolved to keep together. the furs would be secreted and the rest of their property must take its chances. so they made ready. chapter xiv prisoners it gave both dick and albert a severe wrench to leave their beautiful valley. they had lived in it now nearly two years, and it had brought strength and abounding life to albert, infinite variety, content, and gratitude to dick, and what seemed a fortune--their furs--to both. it was a beautiful valley, in which nature had done for them many strange and wonderful things, and they loved it, the splendid lake, the grassy levels, the rushing streams, the noble groves, and the great mountains all about. "i'd like to live here, dick," said albert, "for some years, anyway. after we take out our furs and sell 'em, we can come back and use it as a base for more trapping." "if the indians will let up," said dick. "do you think we'll meet 'em?" "i don't know, but i believe the plains are alive with hostile sioux." but albert could not foresee any trouble. he was too young, to sanguine, too full now of the joy of life to think of difficulties. they chose their weapons for the march with great care, each taking a repeating rifle, a revolver, a hunting knife, and a hatchet, the latter chiefly for camping purposes. they also divided equally among themselves what was left of the ball cartridges, and each took his sunglass and half of the remaining matches. the extra weapons, including the shotguns and shot cartridges, they hid with their furs. they also put in the caves many more of their most valuable possessions, especially the tools and remnants of medical supplies. they left everything else in the houses, just as they were when they were using them, except the bark hut, from which they took away all furnishings, as it was too light to resist the invasion of a large wild beast like a grizzly bear. but they fastened up castle howard and the annex so securely that no wandering beast could possibly break in. they sunk their canoes in shallow water among reeds, and then, when each had provided himself with a large supply of jerked buffalo and deer meat and a skin water bag, they were ready to depart. "we may find our houses and what is in them all right when we come back, or we may not," said dick. "but we take the chance," said albert cheerfully. early on a spring morning they started down the valley by the same way in which they had first entered it. they walked along in silence for some minutes, and then, as if by the same impulse, the two turned and looked back. there was their house, which had sheltered them so snugly and so safely for so long, almost hidden now in the foliage of the new spring. there was a bit of moisture in the eyes of albert, the younger and more sentimental. "good-by," he said, waving his hand. "i've found life here." dick said nothing, and they turned into the main valley. they walked with long and springy steps, left the valley behind them, and began to climb the slopes. presently the valley itself became invisible, the mountains seeming to close in and blot it out. "a stranger would have to blunder on it to find it," said dick. "i hope no one will make any such blunder," said albert. the passage over the mountains was easy, the weather continuing favorable, and on another sunshiny morning they reached the plains, which flowed out boundlessly before them. these, too, were touched with green, but the boys were perplexed. the space was so vast, and it was all so much alike, that it did not look as if they could ever arrive anywhere. "i think we'd better make for cheyenne in wyoming territory," said dick. "but we don't know how far away it is, nor in what direction," said albert. "no; but if we keep on going we're bound to get somewhere. we've got lots of time before us, and we'll take it easy." they had filled their skin water bags, made in the winter, at the last spring, and they set out at a moderate pace over the plain. dick had thought once of visiting again the scene of the train's destruction in the pass, but albert opposed it. "no," he said, "i don't want to see that place." this journey, they knew not whither, continued easy and pleasant throughout the day. the grass was growing fast on the plains, and all the little steams that wound now and then between the swells were full of water, and, although they still carried the filled water bags, dick inferred that they were not likely to suffer from thirst. late in the afternoon they saw a small herd of antelope and a lone buffalo grazing at a considerable distance, and dick drew the second and comforting inference that game would prove to be abundant. he was so pleased with these inferences that he stated them to albert, who promptly drew a third. "wouldn't the presence of buffalo and antelope indicate that there are not many indians hereabouts?" he asked. "it looks likely," replied dick. they continued southward until twilight came, when they built in a hollow a fire of buffalo chips, which were abundant all over the plain, and watched their friendly mountains sink away in the dark. "gives me a sort of homesick feeling," said albert. "they've been good mountains to us. shelter and home are there, but out here i feel as if i were stripped to the wind." "that describes it," said dick. they did not keep any watch, but put out their fire and slept snugly in their blankets. they were awakened in the morning by the whine of a coyote that did not dare to come too near, and resumed their leisurely march, to continue in this manner for several days, meeting no human being either white or red. they saw the mountains sink behind the sky line and then they felt entirely without a rudder. there was nothing to go by now except the sun, but they kept to their southern course. they were not greatly troubled. they found plenty of game, as dick had surmised, and killed an antelope and a fat young buffalo cow. "we may travel a long journey, al," said dick with some satisfaction, "but it's not hard on us. it's more like loafing along on an easy holiday." on the fifth day they ran into a large buffalo herd, but did not molest any of its members, as they did not need fresh meat. "seems to me," said dick, "that sioux would be after this herd if they weren't busy elsewhere. it looks like more proof that the sioux are on the warpath and are to the eastward of us, fighting our own people." "the sioux are a great and warlike tribe, are they not?" asked albert. "the greatest and most warlike west of the mississippi," replied dick. "i understand that they are really a group of closely related tribes and can put thousands of warriors in the field." "bright sun, i suppose, is with them?" "yes, i suppose so. he is an indian, a sioux, no matter if he was at white schools and for years with white people. he must feel for his own, just as you and i, al, feel for our own race." they wandered three or four more days across the plains, and were still without sign of white man or red. they experienced no hardship. water was plentiful. game was to be had for the stalking and life, had they been hunting or exploring, would have been pleasant; but both felt a sense of disappointment--they never came to anything. the expanse of plains was boundless, the loneliness became overpowering. they had not the remotest idea whether they were traveling toward any white settlement. human life seemed to shun them. "dick," said albert one day, "do you remember the story of the flying dutchman, how he kept trying for years to round the cape of storms, and couldn't do it? i wonder if some such penalty is put on us, and if so, what for?" the thought lodged in the minds of both. oppressed by long and fruitless wanderings, they began to have a superstition that they were to continue them forever. they knew that it was unreasonable, but it clung, nevertheless. there were the rolling plains, the high, brassy sky, and the clear line of the horizon on all sides, with nothing that savored of human life between. they had hoped for an emigrant train, or a wandering band of hunters, or possibly a troop of cavalry, but days passed and they met none. still the same high, brassy sky, still the same unbroken horizons. the plains increased in beauty. there was a fine, delicate shade of green on the buffalo grass, and wonderful little flowers peeped shy heads just above the earth, but dick and albert took little notice of either. they had sunk into an uncommon depression. the terrible superstition that they were to wander forever was strengthening its hold upon them, despite every effort of will and reason. in the hope of better success they changed their course two or three times, continuing in each case several days in that direction before the next change was made. "we've traveled around so much now," said albert despondently, "that we couldn't go back to our mountains if we wanted to do it. we don't know any longer in what direction they lie." "that's so," said dick, with equal despondency showing in his tone. his comment was brief, because they talked but little now, and every day were talking less. their spirits were affected too much to permit any excess of words. but they came finally to rougher, much more broken country, and they saw a line of trees on the crest of hills just under the sunset horizon. the sight, the break in the monotony, the cheerful trees made them lift up their drooping heads. "well, at any rate, here's something new," said dick. "let's consider it an omen of good luck, al." they reached the slope, a long one, with many depressions and hollows, containing thick groves of large trees, the heights beyond being crowned with trees of much taller growth. they would have gone to the summit, but they were tired with a long day's tramp and they had not yet fully aroused themselves from the lethargy that had overtaken them in their weary wanderings. "night's coming," said albert, "so let's take to that hollow over there with the scrub ash in it." "all right," said dick. "suits me." it was a cozy little hollow, deeply shaded by the ash trees, but too rocky to be damp, and they did not take the trouble to light a fire. they had been living for some time on fresh buffalo and antelope, and had saved their jerked meat, on which they now drew for supper. it was now quite dark, and each, throwing his blanket lightly around his shoulders, propped himself in a comfortable position. then, for the first time in days, they began to talk in the easy, idle fashion of those who feel some degree of contentment, a change made merely by the difference in scene, the presence of hills, trees, and rocks after the monotonous world of the plains. "we'll explore that country to-morrow," said dick, nodding his head toward the crest of the hills. "must be something over there, a river, a lake, and maybe trappers." "hope it won't make me homesick again for our valley," said albert sleepily. "i've been thinking too much of it, anyway, in the last few days. dick, wasn't that the most beautiful lake of ours that you ever saw? did you ever see another house as snug as castle howard? and how about the annex and the suburban villa? and all those beautiful streams that came jumping down between the mountains?" "if you don't shut up, al," said dick, "i'll thrash you with this good handy stick that i've found here." "all right," replied albert, laughing; "i didn't mean to harrow up your feelings any more than i did my own." albert was tired, and the measure of content that he now felt was soothing. hence, his drowsiness increased, and in ten minutes he went comfortably to sleep. dick's eyes were yet open, and he felt within himself such new supplies of energy and strength that he resolved to explore a little. the task that had seemed so hard two or three hours before was quite easy now. albert would remain sleeping safely where he was, and, acting promptly, dick left the hollow, rifle on shoulder. it was an easy slope, but a long one. as he ascended, the trees grew more thickly and near the ascent were comparatively free from undergrowth. just over the hill shone a magnificent full moon, touching the crest with a line of molten silver. dick soon reached the summit and looked down the far slope into a valley three or four hundred yards deep. the moon shed its full glory into the valley and filled it with rays of light. the valley was at least two miles wide, and down its center flowed a fine young river, which dick could see here and there in stretches, while the rest was hidden by forest. in fact, the whole valley seemed to be well clothed with mountain forest, except in one wide space where dick's gaze remained after it had alighted once. here was human life, and plenty of it. he looked down upon a circle of at least two hundred lodges, tent-shaped structures of saplings covered with bark, and he had heard quite enough about such things to know these were the winter homes of the sioux. the moonlight was so clear and his position so good that he was able to see figures moving about the lodges. the sight thrilled dick. here he had truly come upon human life, but not the kind he wished to see. but it was vastly interesting, and he sought a closer look. his daring told him to go down the slope toward them, and he obeyed. the descent was not difficult, and there was cover in abundance--pines, ash, and oak. as he was very careful, taking time not to break a twig or set a stone rolling, and stopping at intervals to look and listen, he was a half hour in reaching the valley, where, through the trees, he saw the indian village. he felt that he was rash, but wishing to see, he crept closer, the cover still holding good. he was, in a way, fascinated by what he saw. it had the quality of a dream, and its very unreality made him think less of the danger. but he really did not know how expert he had become as a woodsman and trailer through his long training as a trapper, where delicacy of movement and craft were required. he believed that the indians, in such a secure location, would not be stirring beyond the village at this late hour, and he had little fear of anything except the sharp-nosed dogs that are always prowling about an indian village. he was within three hundred yards of the lodges when he heard the faint sound of voices and footsteps. he instantly lay down among the bushes, but raised himself a little on his elbow in order to see. three indians were walking slowly along a woodland path toward the village, and the presence of the path indicated the village had been here for many months, perhaps was permanent. the indians were talking very earnestly and they made gestures. one raised his voice a little and turned toward one of his companions, as if he would emphasize his words. then dick saw his face clearly, and drew a long breath of surprise. it was bright sun, but a bright sun greatly changed. he was wholly in native attire--moccasins, leggings, and a beautiful blue blanket draped about his shoulders. a row of eagle feathers adorned his long black hair, but it was the look and manner of the man that had so much significance. he towered above the other indians, who were men of no mean height; but it was not his height either, it was his face, the fire of his eyes, the proud eagle beak which the sioux had not less than the roman, and the swift glance of command that could not be denied. here was a great chief, a leader of men, and dick was ready to admit it. he could easily have shot bright sun dead as he passed, but he did not dream of doing such a thing. yet bright sun, while seeming to play the part of a friend, had deliberately led the wagon train into a fatal ambush--of that dick had no doubt. he felt, moreover, that bright sun was destined to cause great woe to the white people, his own people, but he could not fire; nor would he have fired even if the deed had been without danger to himself. dick, instead, gave bright sun a reluctant admiration. he looked well enough as the guide in white men's clothes, but in his own native dress he looked like one to be served, not to serve. the three paused for a full two minutes exactly opposite dick, and he could have reached out and touched them with the barrel of his rifle; but they were thinking little of the presence of an enemy. dick judged by the emphasis of their talk that it was on a matter of some great moment, and he saw all three of them point at times toward the east. "it's surely war," he thought, "and our army if somewhere off there in the east." dick saw that bright sun remained the dominating figure throughout the discussion. its whole effect was that of bright sun talking and the others listening. he seemed to communicate his fire and enthusiasm to his comrades, and soon they nodded a vigorous assent. then the three walked silently away toward the village. dick rose from his covert, cast a single glance at the direction in which the three chiefs had disappeared, and then began to retrace his own steps. it was his purpose to arouse albert and flee at once to a less dangerous region. but the fate of dick and his brother rested at that moment with a mean, mangy, mongrel cur, such as have always been a part of indian villages, a cur that had wandered farther from the village than usual that night upon some unknown errand. dick had gone about thirty yards when he became conscious of a light, almost faint, pattering sound behind him. he stepped swiftly into the heaviest shadow of trees and sought to see what pursued. he thought at first it was some base-born wolf of the humblest tribe, but, when he looked longer, he knew that it was one of the meanest of mean curs, a hideous, little yellowish animal, sneaking in his movements, a dog that one would gladly kick out of his way. dick felt considerable contempt for himself because he had been alarmed over such a miserable little beast, and resumed his swift walk. thirty yards farther he threw a glance over his shoulder, and there was the wretched cur still following. dick did not like it, considering it an insult to himself to be trailed by anything so ugly and insignificant. he picked up a stone, but hesitated a moment, and then put it down again. if he threw the stone the dog might bark or howl, and that was the last thing that he wanted. already the cur, mean and miserable as he looked, had won a victory over him. dick turned into a course that he would not have taken otherwise, thinking to shake off his pursuer, but at the next open space he saw him still following, his malignant red eyes fixed upon the boy. the cur would not have weighed twenty cowardly pounds, but he became a horrible obsession to dick. he picked up a stone again, put it down again, and for a mad instant seriously considered the question of shooting him. the cur seemed to become alarmed at the second threat, and broke suddenly into a sharp, snarling, yapping bark, much like that of a coyote. it was terribly loud in the still night, and cold dread assailed dick in every nerve. he picked up the stone that he had dropped, and this time he threw it. "you brute!" he exclaimed, as the stone whizzed by the cur's ear. the cur returned the compliment of names with compounded many times over. his snarling bark became almost continuous, and although he did not come any nearer, he showed sharp white teeth. dick paused in doubt, but when, from a point nearer the village, he heard a bark in reply, then another, and then a dozen, he ran with all speed up the slope. he knew without looking back that the cur was following, and it made him feel cold again. certainly dick had good cause to run. all the world was up and listening now, and most of it was making a noise, too. he heard a tumult of barking, growling, and snapping toward the village, and then above it a long, mournful cry that ended in an ominous note. dick knew that it was a sioux war whoop, and that the mean, miserable little cur had done his work. the village would be at his heels. seized with an unreasoning passion, he whirled about and shot the cur dead. it was a mad act, and he instantly repented it. never had there been another rifle shot so loud. it crashed like the report of a cannon. mountain and valley gave it back in a multitude of echoes, and on the last dying echo came, not a single war whoop, but the shout of many, the fierce, insistent, falsetto yell that has sounded the doom of many a borderer. dick shuddered. he had been pursued once before by a single man, but he was not afraid of a lone warrior. now a score would be at his heels. he might shake them off in the dark, but the dogs would keep the scent, and his chief object was to go fast. he ran up the slope at his utmost speed for a hundred yards or more, and then remembering in time to nurse his strength, he slackened his footsteps. he had thought of turning the pursuit away from the hollow in which albert lay, but now that the alarm was out they would find him, anyway, and it was best for the two to stand or fall together. hence, he went straight for the hollow. it was bitter work running up a slope, but his two years of life in the open were a great help to him now. the strong heart and the powerful lungs responded nobly to the call. he ran lightly, holding his rifle in the hollow of his arm, ready for use if need be, and he watch warily lest he make an incautious footstep and fall. the moonlight was still full and clear, but when he took an occasional hurried glance backward he could not yet see his pursuers. he heard, now and then, however, the barking of a dog or the cry of a warrior. dick reached the crest of the hill, and there for an instant or two his figure stood, under the pines, a black silhouette against the moonlight. four or five shots were fired at the living target. one bullet whizzed so near that it seemed to dick to scorch his face. he had gathered fresh strength, and that hot bullet gave a new impetus also. he ran down the slope at a great speed now, and he had calculated craftily. he could descend nearly twice as fast as they could ascend, and while they were reaching the crest he would put a wide gap between them. he kept well in the shadow now as he made with long leaps straight toward the hollow, and he hoped with every heart beat that albert, aroused by the shots, would be awake and ready. "albert!" he cried, when he was within twenty feet of their camp, and his hope was rewarded. albert was up, rifle in hand, crying: "what is it, dick?" "the sioux!" exclaimed dick. "they're not far away! you heard the shots! come!" he turned off at an angle and ran in a parallel line along the slope, albert by his side. he wished to keep to the forests and thickets, knowing they would have little chance of escape on the plain. as they ran he told albert, in short, choppy sentences, what had happened. "i don't hear anything," said albert, after ten minutes. "maybe they've lost us." "no such good luck! those curs of theirs would lead them. no, al, we've got to keep straight on as long as we can!" albert stumbled on a rock, but, quickly recovering himself, put greater speed in every jump, when he heard the indian shout behind him. "we've got to shoot their dogs," said dick. "we'll have no other chance to shake them off." "if we get a chance," replied albert. but they did not see any chance just yet. they heard the occasional howl of a cur, but both curs and indians remained invisible. yet dick felt that the pursuers were gaining. they were numerous, and they could spread. every time he and albert diverged from a straight line--and they could not help doing so now and then--some portion of the pursuing body came nearer. it was the advantage that the many had over the few. dick prayed for darkness, a shading of the moon, but it did not come, and five minutes later he saw the yellow form of a cur emerge into an open space. he took a shot at it and heard a howl. he did not know whether he had killed the dog or not, but he hoped he had succeeded. the shot brought forth a cry to their right, and then another to the left. it was obvious that the sioux, besides being behind them, were also on either side of them. they were gasping, too, from their long run, and knew that they could not continue much farther. "we can't shake them off, al," said dick, "and we'll have to fight. this is as good a place as any other." they dropped down into a rocky hollow, a depression not more than a foot deep, and lay on their faces, gasping for breath. despite the deadly danger dick felt a certain relief that he did not have to run any more--there comes a time when a moment's physical rest will overweigh any amount of mortal peril. "if they've surrounded us, they're very quiet about it," said albert, when the fresh air had flowed back into his lungs. "i don't see or hear anything at all." "at least we don't hear those confounded dogs any more," said dick. "maybe there was only one pursuing us, and that shot of mine got him. the howls of the cur upset my nerves more than the shouts of the sioux." "maybe so," said albert. then they were both quite still. the moonlight was silvery clear, and they could see pines, oaks, and cedars waving in a gentle wind, but they saw nothing else. yet dick was well aware that the sioux had not abandoned the chase; they knew well where the boys lay, and were all about them in the woods. "keep close, albert," he said. "indians are sly, and the sioux are the slyest of them all. they're only waiting until one of us pops up his head, thinking they're gone." albert took dick's advice, but so long a time passed without sign from the sioux that he began to believe that, in some mysterious manner, they had evaded the savages. the belief had grown almost into a certainty, when there was a flash and a report from a point higher up the slope. albert felt something hot and stinging in his face. but it was only a tiny fragment of rock chipped off by the bullet as it passed. both dick and albert lay closer, as if they would press themselves into the earth, and soon two or three more shots were fired. all came from points higher up the slope, and none hit a living target, though they struck unpleasantly close. "i wish i could see something," exclaimed albert impatiently. "it's not pleasant to be shot at and to get no shot in return." dick did not answer. he was watching a point among some scrub pines higher up the slope, where the boughs seemed to him to be waving too much for the slight wind. looking intently, he thought he saw a patch of brown through the evergreen, and he fired at it. a faint cry followed the shot, and dick felt a strange satisfaction; they were hunting him--well, he had given a blow in return. silence settled down again after dick's shot. the boys lay perfectly still, although they could hear each other's breathing. the silvery moonlight seemed to grow fuller and clearer all the time. it flooded the whole slope. boughs and twigs were sheathed in it. apparently, the moon looked down upon a scene that was all peace and without the presence of a human being. "do you think they'll rush us?" whispered albert. "no," replied dick. "i've always heard that the indian takes as little risk as he possibly can." they waited a little longer, and then came a flare of rifle shots from a point farther up the slope. brown forms appeared faintly, and dick and albert, intent and eager, began to fire in reply. bullets sang by their ears and clipped the stones around them, but their blood rose the higher and they fired faster and faster. "we'll drive 'em back!" exclaimed dick. they did not hear the rapid patter of soft, light footsteps coming from another direction, until a half dozen sioux were upon them. then the firing in front ceased abruptly, and dick and albert whirled to meet their new foes. it was too late. dick saw albert struggling in the grasp of two big warriors, and then saw and heard nothing more. he had received a heavy blow on the head from the butt of a rifle and became unconscious. chapter xv the indian village when dick awoke from his second period of unconsciousness it was to awake, as he did from the first, under a roof, but not, as in the case of the first, under his own roof. he saw above him an immense sloping thatch of bark on poles, and his eyes, wandering lower, saw walls of bark, also fastened to poles. he himself was lying on a large rush mat, and beside the door of the great tepee sat two sioux warriors cleaning their rifles. dick's gaze rested upon the warriors. curiously, he felt at that time neither hostility nor apprehension. he rather admired them. they were fine, tall men, and their bare arms and legs were sinewy and powerful. then he thought of albert. he was nowhere to be seen, but from the shadow of the wall on his right came a tall figure, full of dignity and majesty. it was bright sun, who looked down at dick with a gaze that expressed inquiry rather than anger. "why have you come here?" he asked. although dick's head ached and he was a captive, the question made a faint appeal to his sense of humor. "i didn't come," he replied; "i was brought." bright sun smiled. "that is true," he said, speaking the precise english of the schools, with every word enunciated distinctly. "you were brought, and by my warriors; but why were you upon these hills?" "i give you the best answer i can, bright sun," replied dick frankly; "i don't know. my brother and i were lost upon the plains, and we wandered here. nor have i the remotest idea now where i am." "you are in a village of the tribe of the mendewahkanton sioux, of the clan queyata-oto-we," replied bright sun gravely, "the clan and tribe to which i belong. the mendewahkantons are one of the first tribes of the seven fireplaces, or the great sioux nation. but all are great--mendewahkanton, wahpeton, sisseton, yankton, teton, ogalala, and hunkpapa--down to the last clan of every tribe." he began with gravity and an even intonation, but his voice rose with pride at the last. nothing of the white man's training was left to him but the slow, precise english. it was the indian, the pride of his indian race, that spoke. dick recognized it and respected it. "and this?" said dick, looking around at the great house of bark and poles in which he lay. "this," replied bright sun, pride again showing in this tone, "is the house of the akitcita, our soldiers and policemen, the men between twenty and forty, the warriors of the first rank, who live here in common, and into whose house women and children may not enter. i have read in the books at your schools how the spartan young men lived together as soldiers in a common house, eating rough food and doing the severest duty, and the whole world has long applauded. the sioux, who never heard of the spartans, have been doing the same far back into the shadowy time. we, too, are a race of warriors." dick looked with renewed interest at the extraordinary man before him, and an amazing suggestion found lodgment in his mind. perhaps the sioux chief thought himself not merely as good as the white man, but better, better than any other man except those of his own race. it was so surprising that dick forgot for a moment the question that he was eagerly awaiting a chance to ask--where was his brother albert? "i've always heard that the sioux were brave," said dick vaguely, "and i know they are powerful." "we are the seven fireplaces. what the six nations once were in the east, we now are in the west, save that we are far more numerous and powerful, and we will not be divided. we have leaders who see the truth and who know what to do." the pride in his tone was tinged now with defiance, and dick could but look at him in wonder. but his mind now came back to the anxious question: "where is my brother albert, who was taken with me? you have not killed him?" "he has not been hurt, although we are at war with your people," replied bright sun. "he is here in the village, and he, like you, is safe for the present. some of the warriors wished to kill both you and him, but i have learned wisdom in these matters from your people. why throw away pawns that we hold? i keep your brother and you as hostages." dick, who had raised himself up in his eagerness, sank back again, relieved. he could feel that bright sun told the truth, and he had faith, too, in the man's power as well as his word. yet there was another question that he wished to ask. "bright sun," he said, "it was you, our guide, who led the train into the pass that all might be killed?" bright sun shrugged his shoulders, but a spark leaped from his eyes. "what would you ask of me?" he replied. "in your code it was cunning, but the few and small must fight with cunning. the little man, to confront the big man, needs the advantage of weapons. the sioux make the last stand for the indian race, and we strike when and where we can." the conscience of the chief was clear, so far as dick could see, and there was nothing that he could say in reply. it was bright sun himself who resumed: "but i spared you and your brother. i did that which caused you to be absent when the others were slain." "why?" "because you were different. you were not like the others. it may be that i pitied you, and it may be also that i like you--a little--and--you were young." the man's face bore no more expression than carven oak, but dick was grateful. "i thank you, bright sun," he said, "and i know that albert thanks you, too." bright sun nodded, and then fixed an intent gaze upon dick. "you and your brother escaped," he said. "that was nearly two years ago, and you have not gone back to your people. where have you been?" dick saw a deep curiosity lurking behind the intent gaze, but whatever he might owe to bright sun, he had no intention of gratifying it. "would you tell me where you have been in the last two years and all that you have done?" the chief asked. "i cannot answer; but you see that we have lived, albert and i," dick replied. "and that you have learned the virtues of silence," said bright sun. "i ask you no more about it to-day. give me your word for the present that you will not try to escape, and your life and that of your brother will be the easier. it would be useless, anyhow, for you to make such an attempt. when you feel that you have a chance, you can withdraw your promise." dick laughed, and the laugh was one of genuine good humor. "that's certainly fair," he said. "since i can't escape, i might as well give my promise not to try it for the time being. well, i give it." bright sun nodded gravely. "your brother will come in soon," he said. "he has already given his promise, that is, a conditional one, good until he can confer with you." "i'll confirm it," said dick. bright sun saluted and left the great lodge. some warriors near the door moved aside with the greatest deference to let him pass. dick lay on his rush mat, gazing after him, and deeply impressed. when bright sun was gone he examined the lodge again. it was obvious that it was a great common hall or barracks for warriors, and bright sun's simile of the spartans was correct. more warriors came in, all splendid, athletic young men of a high and confident bearing. a few were dressed in the white man's costume, but most of them were in blankets, leggings, and moccasins, and had magnificent rows of feathers in their hair. every man carried a carbine, and most of them had revolvers also. such were the akitcita or chosen band, and in this village of about two hundred lodges they numbered sixty men. dick did not know then that in times of peace all guests, whether white or red, were entertained in the lodge of the akitcita. impressed as he had been by bright sun, he was impressed also by these warriors. not one of them spoke to him or annoyed him in any manner. they went about their tasks, cleaning and polishing their weapons, or sitting on rough wooden benches, smoking pipes with a certain dignity that belonged to men of strength and courage. all around the lodge were rush mats, on which they slept, and near the door was a carved totem pole. a form darkened the doorway, and albert came in. he rushed to dick when he saw that he was conscious again, and shook his hand with great fervor. the warriors went on with their tasks or their smoking, and still took no notice. "this is a most wonderful place, dick," exclaimed the impressionable albert, "and bright sun has treated us well. we can go about the village if we give a promise, for the time, that we'll not try to escape." "he's been here," said dick, "and i've given it." "then, if you feel strong enough, let's go on and take a look." "wait until i see if this head of mine swims around," said dick. he rose slowly to his feet, and his bandaged head was dizzy at first, but as he steadied himself it became normal. albert thrust out his hand to support him. it delighted him that he could be again of help to his older and bigger brother, and dick, divining albert's feeling, let it lie for a minute. then they went to the door, dick walking quite easily, as his strength came back fast. the warriors of the akitcita, of whom fully a dozen were now present in the great lodge, still paid no attention to the two youths, and dick surmised that it was the orders of bright sun. but this absolute ignoring of their existence was uncanny, nevertheless. dick studies some of the faces as he passed. bold and fearless they were, and not without a certain nobility, but there was little touch of gentleness or pity, it was rather the strength of the wild animal, the flesh-eater, that seeks its prey. sioux they were, and sioux they would remain in heart, no matter what happened, wild warriors of the northwest. dick perceived this fact in a lightening flash, but it was the lightening flash of conviction. outside the fresh air saluted dick, mouth and nostrils, and the ache in his head went quite away. he had seen the valley by moonlight, when it was beautiful, but not as beautiful as their own valley, the one of which they would not tell to anybody. but it was full of interest. the village life, the life of the wild, was in progress all about him, and in the sunshine, amidst such picturesque surroundings, it had much that was attractive to the strong and brave. dick judged correctly that the village contained about two hundred winter lodges of bark and poles, and could therefore furnish about four hundred warriors. it was evident, too, that it was the scene of prosperity. the flesh of buffalo, elk, and deer was drying in the sun, hanging from trees or on little platforms of poles. children played with the dogs or practiced with small bows and arrows. in the shadow of a tepee six old women sat gambling, and the two boys stopped to watch them. the indians are more inveterate gamblers than the whites, and the old women, wrinkled, hideous hags of vast age, played their games with an intent, almost breathless, interest. they were playing woskate tanpan, or the game of dice, as it is known to the sioux. three women were on each side, and they played it with tanpan (the basket), kansu (the dice), and canyiwawa (the counting sticks). the tanpan, made of willow twigs, was a tiny basket, about three inches in diameter at the bottom, but broader at the top, and about two inches deep. into this one woman would put the kansu or dice, a set of six plum stones, some carved and some not carved. she would put her hand over the tanpan, shake the kansu just as the white dice player does, and then throw them out. the value of the throw would be according to the kind and number of carvings that were turned up when the kansu fell. the opposing sides, three each, sat facing each other, and the stakes for which they played--canyiwawa (the counting sticks)--lay between them. these were little round sticks about the thickness of a lead pencil, and the size of each heap went up or down, as fortune shifted back or forth. they could make the counting sticks represent whatever value they chose, this being agreed upon beforehand, and the old sioux women had been known to play woskate tanpan two days and nights without ever rising from their seats. "what old harpies they are!" said dick. "did you ever see anybody so eager over anything?" "they are no worse than the men," replied albert. "a lot of warriors are gambling, too." a group of the men were gathered on a little green farther on, and the brothers joined them, beginning to share at once the interest that the spectators showed in several warriors who were playing woskate painyankapi, or the game of the wands and the hoop. the warriors used in the sport canyleska (the hoop) and cansakala (the wands). the hoops were of ash, two or three feet in diameter, the ash itself being about an inch in diameter. every hoop was carefully marked off into spaces, something like the face of a watch. cansakala (the wands) were of chokecherry, four feet long and three fourths of an inch in diameter. one end of every wand was squared for a distance of about a foot. the wands were in pairs, the two being fastened together with buckskin thongs about nine inches in length, and fastened at a point about one third of the length of the wands from the rounded ends. a warrior would roll the hoop, and he was required to roll it straight and correctly. if he did not do so, the umpire made him roll it over, as in the white man's game of baseball the pitcher cannot get a strike until he pitches the ball right. when the hoop was rolled correctly, the opposing player dropped his pair of wands somewhere in front of it. it was his object so to calculate the speed and course of the hoop when it fell it would lie upon his wands. if he succeeded, he secured his points according to the spaces on each wand within which the hoop lay--an exceedingly difficult game, requiring great skill of hand and judgment of eye. that if was absorbing was shown by the great interest with which all the spectators followed it and by their eager betting. "i don't believe i could learn to do that in ten years," said albert; "you've got to combine too many things and to combine them fast." "they must begin on it while they're young," said dick; "but the indian has a mind, and don't you forget it." "but they're not as we are," rejoined albert. "nothing can ever make them so." here, as in the house of the akitcita, nobody paid any attention to the two boys, but dick began to have a feeling that he was watched, not watched openly as man watches man, but in the furtive dangerous way of the great wild beasts, the man-eaters. the feeling grew into a conviction that, despite what they were doing, everybody in the camp--warrior, squaw, and child--was watching albert and him. he knew that half of this was fancy, but he was sure that the other half was real. "albert," he said, "i wouldn't make any break for liberty now, even if i hadn't given my promise." "nor i," said albert. "by the time we had gone ten feet the whole village would be on top of us. dick, while i'm here i'm going to make the best of it i can." in pursuance of this worthy intention albert pressed forward and almost took the cansakala from the hands of a stalwart warrior. the man, amazed at first, yielded up the pair of wands with a grin. albert signaled imperiously to the warrior with the hoop, and he, too, grinning, sent canyleska whirling. albert cast the wands, and the hoop fell many feet from them. a shout of laughter arose. the white youth was showing himself a poor match for the sioux, and the women and children came running to see this proof of the superiority of their race. the warrior from whom he had taken them gravely picked up the cansakala and handed them back to albert, the other warrior again sent canyleska rolling, and again albert threw the wands with the same ill fortune. a third and fourth time he tried, with but slight improvement, and the crowd, well pleased to see him fail, thickened all the time, until nearly the whole village was present. "it's just as hard as we thought it was, dick, and harder," said albert ruefully. "here, you take it and see what you can do." he handed cansakala to dick, who also tried in vain, while the crowd enjoyed the sport, laughing and chatting to one another, as they will in their own villages. dick made a little more progress than albert had achieved, but not enough to score any points worth mentioning, and he, too, retired discomfited, while the sioux, especially the women, continued to laugh. "i don't like to be beaten that way," said albert in a nettled tone. "never mind, al, old fellow," said dick soothingly. "remember it's their game, not ours, and as it makes them feel good, it's all the better for us. since they've beaten us, they're apt to like us and treat us better." it was hard for albert to take the more philosophical view, which was also the truthful one, but he did his best to reconcile himself, and he and dick moved on to other sights. dick noticed that the village had been located with great judgment. on one side was the river, narrow but swift and deep; on the other, a broad open space that would not permit an enemy to approach through ambush, and beyond that the forest. the tepees stood in a great circle, and, although dick did not know it, their camps were always pitched according to rule, each gens or clan having its regular place in the circle. the tribe of the mendewahkantons--a leading one of the seven fireplaces or council fires of the great sioux nation--was subdivided into seven gentes or clans; the kiyukas, or breakers, so called because they disregarded the general marriage law and married outside their own clan; the que-mini-tea, or mountain wood and water people; the kap'oja, or light travelers; the maxa-yuta-cui, the people who eat no grease; the queyata-oto-we, or the people of the village back from the river; the oyata citca, the bad nation, and the tita-otowe, the people of the village on the prairie. each clan was composed of related families, and all this great tribe, as the boys learned later, had once dwelled around spirit lake, minnesota, their name meaning mysterious lake dwellers, but had been pushed westward years before by the advancing wave of white settlement. this was now a composite village, including parts of every gens of the mendewahkantons, but there were other villages of the same tribe scattered over a large area. when dick and albert reached the northern end of the village they saw a great number of indian ponies, six or seven hundred perhaps, grazing in a wide grassy space and guarded by half-grown indian boys. "dick," said albert, "if we only had a dozen of those we could go back and get our furs." "yes," said dick, "if we had the ponies, if we knew where we are now, if we were free of the sioux village, and if we could find the way to our valley, we might do what you say." "yes, it does take a pile of 'ifs,'" said albert, laughing, "and so i won't expect it. i'll try to be resigned." so free were they from any immediate restriction that it almost seemed to them that they could walk away as they chose, up the valley and over the hills and across the plains. how were the sioux to know that these two would keep their promised word? but both became conscious again of those watchful eyes, ferocious, like the eyes of man-eating wild beasts, and both shivered a little as they turned back into the great circle of bark teepees. chapter xvi the gathering of the sioux dick and albert abode nearly two weeks in the great lodge of the akitcita, that is, as guests, although they were prisoners, whose lives might be taken at any time, and they had splendid opportunities for observing what a genuine spartan band the akitcita were. everyone had his appointed place for arms and his rush or fur mat for sleeping. there was no quarreling, no unseemly chatter, always a grave and dignified order and the sense of stern discipline. not all the akitcita were ever present in the daytime, but some always were. all tribal business was transacted here. the women had to bring wood and water to it daily, and the entire village supplied it every day with regular rations of tobacco, almost the only luxury of the akitcita. both dick and albert were keenly observant, and they did not hesitate also to ask questions of bright sun whenever they had the chance. they learned from him that the different tribes of the sioux had general councils at irregular intervals, that there was no hereditary rank among the chiefs, it being usually a question of energy and merit, although the rank was sometimes obtained by gifts, and ambitious man giving away all that he had for the prize. there were no women chiefs, and women were not admitted to the great council. the boys perceived, too, that much in the life of the sioux was governed by ancient ritual; nearly everything had its religious meaning, and both boys having an inherent respect for religion of any kind, were in constant fear lest they should violate unwillingly some honored law. the two made friendly advances to the members of the akitcita but they were received with a grave courtesy that did not invite a continuance. they felt daily a deepening sense of racial difference. they appreciated the humane treatment they had received, but they and the sioux did not seem to come into touch anywhere. and this difference was accentuated in the case of bright sun. the very fact that he had been educated in their schools, that he spoke their language so well, and that he knew their customs seemed to widen the gulf between them into a sea. they felt that he had tasted of their life, and liked it not. the two, although they could not like bright sun, began to have a certain deference for him. the old sense of power he had created in their minds increased greatly, and now it was not merely a matter of mind and manner; all the outward signs, the obvious respect in which he was held by everybody and the way in which the eyes of the warriors, as well as those of women and children, followed him, showed that he was a great leader. after ten days or so in the great lodge of the akitcita, dick and albert were removed to a small bark tepee of their own, to which they were content to go. they had no arms, not even a knife, but they were already used to their captivity, and however great their ultimate danger might be, it was far away for them to think much about it. they observed, soon after their removal, that the life of the village changed greatly. the old women were not often to be found in the shadow of the lodges playing woskate tanpan, the men gave up wholly woskate painyankapi, and throughout the village, no matter how stoical the sioux might be, there was a perceptible air of excitement and suspense. often at night the boys heard the rolling of the sioux war drums, and the medicine men made medicine incessantly inside their tepees. dick chafed greatly. "big things are afoot," he would say to albert. "we know that the sioux and our people are at war, but you and i, al, don't know a single thing that has occurred. i wish we could get away from here. our people are our own people, and i'd like to tell them to look out." "i feel just as you do, dick," albert would reply; "but we might recall our promise to bright sun. besides, we wouldn't have the ghost of a chance to escape. i feel that a hundred eyes are looking at me all the time." "i feel that two hundred are looking at me," said dick, with a grim little laugh. "no, al, you're right. we haven't a chance on earth to escape." five days after their removal to the small lodge there was a sudden and great increase in the excitement in the village. in truth, it burst into a wild elation, and all the women and children, running toward the northern side of the village, began to shout cries of welcome. the warriors followed more sedately, and dick and albert, no one detaining them, joined in the throng. "somebody's coming, al, that's sure," said dick. "yes, and that somebody's a lot of men," said albert. "look!" three or four hundred warriors, a long line of them, were coming down the valley, tall, strong, silent men, with brilliant headdresses of feathers and bright blankets. everyone carried a carbine or rifle, and they looked what they were--a truly formidable band, resolved upon some great attempt. dick and albert inferred the character of the arrivals from the shouts that they heard the squaws and children utter: "sisseton!" "wahpeton!" "ogalala!" "yankton!" "teton!" "hunkpapa!" the arriving warriors, many of whom were undoubtedly chiefs, gravely nodded to their welcome, and came silently on as the admiring crowd opened to receive them. "it's my opinion," said dick, "that the seven fireplaces are about to hold a grand council in the lodge of the akitcita." "i don't think there's any doubt about it," replied albert. they also heard, amidst the names of the tribes, the names of great warriors or medicine men, names which they were destined to hear many times again, both in indian and english--sitting bull, rain-in-the-face, little big man, and others. then they meant nothing to either dick or albert. all the chiefs, led by bright sun, went directly to the lodge of the akitcita, and the other warriors were taken into the lodges of their friends, the mendewahkantons. then the women ran to the lodges and returned with the best food that the village could furnish. it was given to the guests, and also many pounds of choice tobacco. dick and albert had made no mistake in their surmise. the great council of the seven fireplaces of the sioux was in session. all that day the chiefs remained in the lodge of the akitcita, and when night was far advanced they were still there. dick and albert shared the excitement of the village, although knowing far less of its nature, but they knew that a grand council of the seven fireplaces would not be held without great cause, and they feared much for their people. it was a warm, close night, with a thin moon and flashes of heat lightening on the hilly horizon. through the heavy air came the monotonous rolling of a war drum, and the chant of a medicine man making medicine in a tepee near by went on without ceasing. the boys did not try to sleep, and unable to stifle curiosity, they came from the little bark lodge. one or two sioux warriors glanced at them, but none spoke. the sioux knew that the village was guarded so closely by a ring of sentinels that a cat could not have crept through without being seen. the boys walked on undisturbed until they came near the great council lodge, where they stopped to look at the armed warriors standing by the door. the dim light and the excited imaginations of the boys made the lodge grow in size and assume fantastic shapes. so many great chiefs had come together for a mighty purpose, and dick was sure that bright sun, sitting in the ring of his equals, urged on the project, whatever it might be, and would be the dominating figure through all. although they saw nothing, they were fascinated by what they wished to see. the great lodge held them with a spell that they did not seek to break. although it was past midnight, they stayed there, staring at the blank walls. warriors passed and gave them sharp glances, but nothing was said to them. the air remained close and heavy. heat lightening continued to flare on the distant hills, but no rain fell. the chiefs finally came forth from the great council. there was no light for them save the cloudy skies and one smoking torch that a warrior held aloft, but the active imagination of the two boys were again impressed. every chief seemed to show in his face and manner his pride of race and the savage strength that well became such a time and place. some bore themselves more haughtily and were more brilliantly adorned than bright sun, but he was still the magnet from which power and influence streamed. dick and albert did not know why they knew it, but they knew it. the chiefs did not go away to friendly lodges, but after they came forth remained in a group, talking. dick surmised that they had come to an agreement upon whatever question they debated; now they were outside for fresh air, and soon would return to the lodge of the akitcita, which, according to custom, would shelter them as guests. bright sun noticed the brothers standing in the shadow of the lodge, and, leaving the group, he walked over to them. his manner did not express hostility, but he made upon both boys that old impression of power and confidence, tinged now with a certain exultation. "you would know what we have been doing?" he said, speaking directly to dick, the older. "we don't ask," replied dick, "but i will say this, bright sun: we believe that the thing done was the thing you wished." bright sun permitted himself a little smile. "you have learned to flatter," he said. "it was not meant as flattery," said dick; "but there is something more i have to say. we wish to withdraw our pledge not to attempt to escape. you remember it was in the agreement we could withdraw whenever we chose." "that is true," said bright sun, giving dick a penetrating look. "and so you think that it is time for you to go?" "we will go, if we can," said dick boldly. bright sun, who had permitted himself a smile a little while ago, now permitted himself a soft laugh. "you put it well," he said in his precise english, "'if we can.' but the understanding is clear. the agreement is at an end. however, you will not escape. we need you as hostages, and i will tell you, too, that we leave this village and valley to-morrow. we begin a great march." "i am not surprised," said dick. bright sun rejoined the other chiefs, and all of them went back into the lodge of the akitcita, while dick and albert returned to their own little tepee. there, as each lay on his rush mat, they talked in whispers. "what meaning do you give to it, dick?" asked albert. "that all the sioux tribes are going to make a mighty effort against our people, and they're going to make it soon. why else are they holding this great council of the seven fireplaces? i tell you, al, big things are afoot. oh, if we could only find a chance to get away!" albert rolled over to the door of the lodge and peeped out. several warriors were pacing up and down in front of the rows of tepees. he rolled back to his rush mat. "they've got inside as well as outside guards now," he whispered. "i thought it likely," dick whispered back. "al, the best thing that you and i can do now is to go to sleep." they finally achieved slumber, but were up early the next morning and saw bright sun's words come true. the village was dismantled with extraordinary rapidity. most of the lighter lodges were taken down, but how much of the place was left, and what people were left with it, the boys did not know, because they departed with the warriors, each riding a bridleless pony. although mounted, their chance of escape was not increased. warriors were all about them, they were unarmed, and their ponies, uncontrolled by bridles, could not be made to leave their comrades. dick and albert, nevertheless, found an interest in this journey, wondering to what mysterious destination it would lead them. they heard behind them the chant of the old women driving the ponies that drew the baggage on poles, but the warriors around them were silent. bright sun was not visible. dick surmised that he was at the head of the column. the clouds of the preceding night had gone away, and the day was cooler, although it was now summer, and both dick and albert found a certain pleasure in the journey. in their present of suspense any change was welcome. they rode straight up the valley, a long and formidable procession, and as they went northward the depression became both shallower and narrower. finally, they crossed the river at a rather deep ford and rode directly ahead. soon the hills and the forest that clothed them sank out of sight, and dick and albert were once again in the midst of the rolling immensity of the plains. they could judge the point of the compass by the sun, but they knew nothing else of the country over which they traveled. they tried two or three times to open conversation with the warriors about them, trusting that the latter knew english, but they received no reply and gave up the attempt. "at any rate, i can talk to you, al," said dick after the last futile attempt. "yes, but you can't get any information out of me," replied albert with a laugh. the procession moved on, straight as an arrow, over the swells, turning aside for nothing. some buffaloes were seen on the horizon, but they were permitted to crop the bunch grass undisturbed. no indian hunter left the ranks. they camped that night on the open prairie, dick and albert sleeping in their blankets in the center of the savage group. it might have seemed to the ordinary observer that there was looseness and disorder about the camp, but dick was experienced enough to know that all the mendewahkantons were posted in the circle according to their clans, and that the delegates were distributed with them in places of honor. dick noticed, also, that no fires were built, and that the warriors had scrutinized the entire circle of the horizon with uncommon care. it could signify but one thing to him--white people, and perhaps white troops, were near. if so, he prayed that they were in sufficient force. he was awakened in the night by voices, and raising himself on his elbow he saw a group of men, at least a hundred in number, riding into the camp. the latest arrivals were sioux warriors, but of what tribe he could not tell. yet it was always the sioux who were coming, and it would have been obvious to the least observant that dick's foreboding about a mighty movement was right. they were joined the next day by another detachment coming from the southwest, and rode on, full seven hundred warriors, every man armed with the white man's weapons, carbine or rifle and revolver. "i pity any poor emigrants whom they may meet," thought dick; but, fortunately, they met none. the swelling host continued its march a second day, a third, and a fourth through sunshiny weather, increasing in warmth, and over country that changed but little. dick and albert saw bright sun only once or twice, but he had nothing to say to them. the others, too, maintained their impenetrable silence, although they never offered any ill treatment. they were joined every day by bands of warriors, sometimes not more than two or three at a time, and again as many as twenty. they came from all points of the compass, but, so far as dick and albert could see, little was said on their arrival. everything was understood. they came as if in answer to a call, took their places without ado in the savage army, and rode silently on. dick saw a great will at work, and with it a great discipline. a master mind had provided for all things. "al," he said to his brother, "you and i are not in the plan at all. we've been out of the world two years, and we're just that many years behind." "i know it's ," said albert, with some confidence, but he added in confession: "i've no idea what month it is, although it must be somewhere near summer." "about the beginning of june, i should think," said dick. an hour after this little talk the country became more hilly, and presently they saw trees and high bluffs to their right. both boys understood the signs. they were approaching a river, and possibly their destination. "i've a feeling," said dick, "that we're going to stop now. the warriors look as if they were getting ready for a rest." he was quickly confirmed in his opinion by the appearance of mounted indians galloping to meet them. these warriors showed no signs of fatigue or a long march, and it was now obvious that a village was near. the new band greeted the force of bright sun with joy, and the stern silence was relaxed. there was much chattering and laughing, much asking and answering of questions, and soon indian women and indian boys, with little bows and arrows, came over the bluffs, and joining the great mounted force, followed on its flanks. dick and albert were on ponies near the head of the column, and their troubles and dangers were forgotten in their eager interest in what they were about to see. the feeling that a first step in a great plan was accomplished was in the air. they could see it in the cessation of the sioux reserve and in the joyous manner of the warriors, as well as the women. even the ponies picked up their heads, as if they, too, saw rest. the procession wound round the base of a hill, and then each boy uttered a little gasp. before them lay a valley, about a mile wide, down the center of which flowed a shallow yellow river fringed with trees and also with undergrowth, very dense in places. but it was neither the river nor trees that had drawn the little gasps from the two boys, it was an indian village, or rather a great town, extending as far as they could see--and they saw far--on either side of the stream. there were hundreds and hundreds of lodges, and a vast scene of animated and varied life. warriors, squaws, children, and dogs moved about; smoke rose from scores and scores of fires, and on grassy meadows grazed ponies, thousands in number. "why, i didn't think there was so big an indian town in all the west!" exclaimed albert. "nor did i," said dick gravely, "and i'm thinking, al, that it's gathered here for a purpose. it must be made up of all the sioux tribes." albert nodded. he knew the thought in dick's mind, and he believed it to be correct. chance so had it that bright sun at this moment rode near them and heard their words. dick of late had surmised shrewdly that bright sun treated them well, not alone for the sake of their value as hostages, but for a reason personal to himself. he had been associated long with white people in their schools, but he was at heart and in fact a great sioux chief; he had felt the white man's assumption of racial superiority, and he would have these two with the white faces witness some great triumph that he intended to achieve over these same white people. this belief was growing on dick, and it received more confirmation when bright sun said: "you see that the sioux nation has many warriors and is mighty." "i see that it is so, bright sun," replied dick frankly. "i did not know you were so numerous and so powerful; but bear in mind, bright sun, that no matter how many the sioux may be, the white men are like the leaves of the tree--thousands, tens of thousands may fall, and yet only their own kin miss them." but bright sun shook his head. "what you say is true," he said, "because i have seen and i know; but they are not here. the mountains, the plains, the wilderness keep them back." dick forebore a retort, because he felt that he owed bright sun something, and the chief seemed to take it for granted that he was silenced by logic. "this is the little big horn river," bright sun said, "and you behold now in this village, which extends five miles on either side of it, the seven fireplaces of the sioux. all tribes are gathered here." "and it is you who have gathered them," said dick. he was looking straight into bright sun's eyes as he spoke, and he saw the pupils of the sioux expand, in fact dilate, with a sudden overwhelming sense of power and triumph. dick knew he had guessed aright, but the sioux replied with restraint: "if i have had some small part in the doing of it, i feel proud." with that he left them, and dick and albert rode on into the valley of the river, in whatsoever direction their bridleless horses might carry them, although that direction was bound to be the one in which rode the group surrounding them. some of the squaws and boys, who caught sight of dick and albert among the warriors, began to shout and jeer, but a chief sternly bade them to be silent, and they slunk away, to the great relief of the two lads, who had little relish for such attention. they were full in the valley now, and on one side of them was thick undergrowth that spread to the edge of the river. a few hundred yards father the undergrowth ceased, sand taking its place. all the warriors turned their ponies abruptly away from one particular stretch of sand, and dick understood. "it's a quicksand, al," he said; "it would suck up pony, rider, and all." they left the quicksand behind and entered the village, passing among the groups of lodges. here they realized more fully than on the hills the great extent of the indian town. its inhabitants seemed a myriad to dick and albert, so long used to silence and the lack of numbers. "how many warriors do you suppose this place could turn out, dick?" asked albert. "five thousand, but that's only a guess. it doesn't look much like our own valley, does it, al?" "no, it doesn't," replied albert with emphasis; "and i can tell you, dick, i wish i was back there right now. i believe that's the finest valley the sun ever shone on." "but we had to leave sometime or other," said dick, "and how could we tell that we were going to run into anything like this? but it's surely a big change for us." "the biggest in the world." the group in which they rode continued along the river about two miles, and then stopped at a point where both valley and village were widest. a young warrior, speaking crude english, roughly bade them dismount, and gladly they sprang from the ponies. albert fell over when he struck the ground, his legs were cramped so much by the long ride, but the circulation was soon restored, and he and dick went without resistance to the lodge that was pointed out to them as their temporary home and prison. it was a small lodge of poles leaning toward a common center at the top, there lashed together firmly with rawhide, and the whole covered with skins. it contained only two rude mats, two bowls of sioux pottery, and a drinking gourd, but it was welcome to dick and albert, who wanted rest and at the same time security from the fierce old squaws and the equally fierce young boys. they were glad enough to lie a while on the rush mats and rub their tired limbs. when they were fully rested they became very hungry. "i wonder if they mean to starve us to death?" said albert. a negative answer was given in about ten minutes by two old squaws who appeared, bearing food, some venison, and more particularly wa-nsa, a favorite dish with the sioux, a compound made of buffalo meat and wild cherries, which, after being dried, are pounded separately until they are very fine; then the two are pounded together for quite a while, after which the whole is stored in bladders, somewhat after the fashion of the white man's sausage. "this isn't bad at all," said albert when he bit into his portion. "now, if we only had something good to drink." neither of the old squaws understood his words, but one of them answered his wish, nevertheless. she brought cherry-bark tea in abundance, which both found greatly to their liking and they ate and drank with deep content. a mental cheer was added also to their physical good feeling. "thanks, madam," said albert, when one of the old squaws refilled the little earthen bowl from which he drank the cherry-bark tea. "you are indeed kind. i did not expect to meet with such hospitality." the indian woman did not understand his words, but anybody could understand the boy's ingratiating smile. she smiled back at him. "be careful, al, old man," said dick with the utmost gravity. "these old indian women adopt children sometimes, or perhaps she will want to marry you. in fact, i think the latter is more likely, and you can't help yourself." "don't, dick, don't!" said albert imploringly. "i am willing to pay a high price for hospitality, but not that." the women withdrew, and after a while, when the boys felt fully rested, they stepped outside the lodge, to find two tall young sioux warriors on guard. dick looked at them inquiringly, and one of them said in fair english: "i am lone wolf, and this is tall pine. you can go in the village, but we go with you. bright sun has said so, and we obey." "all right, mr. lone wolf," said dick cheerfully. "four are company, two are none. we couldn't escape if we tried; but bright sun says that you and your friend mr. pine tree are to be our comrades on our travels, well and good. i don't know any other couple in this camp that i'd choose before you two." lone wolf and pine tree were young, and maybe their youth caused them to smile slightly at dick's pleasantry. nor did they annoy the boys with excessive vigilance, and they answered many questions. it was, indeed, they said, the greatest village in the west that was now gathered on the banks of the little big horn. sioux from all tribes had come including those on reservations. all the clans of the mendewahkantons, for instance, were represented on the reservations, but all of them were represented here, too. it was a great war that was now going on, they said, and they had taken many white scalps, but they intimated that those they had taken were few in comparison with the number they would take. dick asked them of their present purpose, but here they grew wary. the white soldiers might be near or they might be far, but the god of the sioux was wakantaka, the good spirit, and the god of the white man was wakansica, the bad spirit. dick did not consider it worth while to argue with them. indeed, he was in no position to do so. the history of the world in the last two years was a blank to him and albert. but he observed throughout the vast encampment the same air of expectancy and excitement that had been noticeable in the smaller village. he also saw a group of warriors arrive, their ponies loaded with repeating rifles, carbines and revolvers. he surmised that they had been obtained from french-canadian traders, and he knew well for what they were meant. once again he made his silent prayer that if the white soldiers came they could come in great force. dick observed in the huge village all the signs of an abundant and easy life, according to sioux standards. throughout its confines kettles gave forth the odors pleasing to an indian's nostrils. boys broiled strips of venison on twigs before the fires. squaws were jerking buffalo and deer meat in a hundred places, and strings of fish ready for the cooking hung before the lodges. plenty showed everywhere. dick understood that if one were really a wild man, with all instincts of a wild man inherited through untold centuries of wild life, he could find no more pleasing sight than this great encampment abounding in the good things for wild men that the plains, hills, and water furnished. he saw it readily from the point of view of the sioux and could appreciate their confidence. albert, who was a little ahead of dick, peered between two lodges, and suddenly turned away with a ghastly face. "what's the trouble, al?" asked dick. "i saw a warrior passing on the other side of those lodges," replied albert, "and he had something at his belt--the yellow hair of a white man, and there was blood on it." "we have taken many scalps already," interrupted the young sioux, lone wolf, some pride showing in his tone. both dick and albert shuddered and were silent. the gulf between these men and themselves widened again into quite a sea. their thoughts could not touch those of the sioux at any point. "i think we'd better go back to our own lodge," said dick. "no," said lone wolf. "the great chief, bright sun, has commanded us when we return to bring you into his presence, and it is time for us to go to him." "what does he want with us?" asked albert. "he knows, but i do not," replied lone wolf sententiously. "lead on," said dick lightly. "here, we go wherever we are invited." they walked back a full mile, and lone wolf and pine tree led the way to a great lodge, evidently one used by the akitcita, although dick judged that in so great a village as this, which was certainly a fusion of many villages, there must be at least a dozen lodges of the akitcita. lone wolf and pine tree showed dick and albert into the door, but they themselves remained outside. the two boys paused just inside the door until their eyes became used to the half gloom of the place. before them stood a dozen men, all great chiefs, and in the center was bright sun, the dominating presence. despite their natural courage and hardihood and the wild life to which they had grown used, dick and albert were somewhat awed by the appearance of these men, every one of whom was of stern presence, looking every inch a warrior. they had discarded the last particle of white man's attire, keeping only the white man's weapons, the repeating rifle and revolver. every one wore, more or less loosely folded about him, a robe of the buffalo, and in all cases the inner side of this robe was painted throughout in the most vivid manner with scenes from the hunt or warpath, chiefly those that had occurred in the life of the wearer. many colors were used in these paintings, but mostly those of cardinal dyes, red and blue being favorites. "these," said bright sun, speaking more directly to dick, "are mighty chiefs of the sioux nation. this is ta sun ke ka-kipapi-hok'silan (young-man-afraid-of-his-horses)." he nodded toward a tall warrior, who made a slight and grave inclination. "i'd cut out at least half of that name," said dick under his breath. "and this," continued bright sun in his measured, precise english, "is ite-mogu'ju (rain-in-the-face), and this kun-sun'ka (crow dog), and this pizi (gall), and this peji (grass)". thus he continued introducing them, giving to every one his long indian appellation until all were named. the famous sitting bull (tatanka yotanka) was not present. dick learned afterwards that he was at that very moment in his own tepee making medicine. "what we wish to know," said bright sun--"and we have ways to make you tell us--is whether you saw the white troops before we took you?" dick shivered a little. he knew what bright sun meant by the phrase "we have ways to make you tell," and he knew also that bright sun would be merciless if mercy stood in the way of getting what he wished. no shred of the white man's training was now left about the indian chief save the white man's speech. "i have not seen a white man in two years," replied dick, "nor has my brother. we told you the truth when you took us." bright sun was silent for a space, regarding him with black eyes seeking to read every throb of his heart. dick was conscious, too, that the similar gaze of all the others was upon him. but he did not flinch. why should he? he had told the truth. "then i ask you again," said bright sun, "where have you been all this time?" "i cannot tell you," replied dick. "it is a place that we wish to keep secret. it is hidden far from here. but it is one to which no one else goes. i can say that much." rain-in-the-face made an impatient movement, and said some words in the sioux tongue. dick feared it was a suggestion that he be put to the torture, and he was glad when bright sun shook his head. "there are such places," said bright sun, "because the mountains are high and vast and but few people travel among them. it may be that he tells the truth." "it is the truth. i swear it!" said dick earnestly. "then why do you refuse to tell of this place?" asked bright sun. "because we wish to keep it for ourselves," replied dick frankly. the faintest trace of a smile was visible in bright sun's eyes. "wherever it may be it belongs to us," said the chief; "but i believe that you are telling the truth. nor do i hesitate to tell you that we have asked these questions because we wish to learn all that we can. the soldiers of your people are advancing under the yellow-haired general, custer, terry, gibbon, and others. they come in great force, but the sioux, in greater force and more cunning will destroy them." dick was silent. he knew too little to make any reply to the statements of bright sun. rain-in-the-face and crazy horse spoke to bright sun, and they seemed to be urging something. but the chief again shook his head, and they, too, became silent. it was obvious to both boys that his influence was enormous. "you can go," he said to dick and albert, and they gladly left the lodge. outside, lone wolf and pine tree fell in on either side of them and escorted them to their own tepee, in front of which they stood guard while the boys slept that night. chapter xvii the great sun dance dick and albert remained in their tepee throughout the next morning, but in the afternoon they were allowed to go in the village a second time. lone wolf and pine tree, who had slept in the morning, were again their guards. both saw at once that some great event was at hand. the excitement in the village had increased visibly, and a multitude was pouring toward a certain point, a wide, grassy plain beside the little big horn. lone wolf and pine tree willingly took the captives with the crowd, and the two boys looked upon a sight which few white men have beheld in all its savage convulsions. the wide, grassy space before them had been carefully chosen by the great medicine men of the nation, sitting bull at their head. then the squaws had put up a great circular awning, like a circus tent, with part of the top cut out. this awning was over one hundred and fifty feet in diameter. after this, the medicine men had selected a small tree, which was cut down by a young, unmarried squaw. then the tree, after it had been trimmed of all its branches and consecrated and prayed over by the medicine men, was erected in the center of the inclosed space, rising from the ground to a height of about twenty feet. to the top of the pole were fastened many long thongs of rawhide reaching nearly to the ground, and as dick and albert looked a swarm of young men in strange array, or rather lack of array, came forth from among the lodges and entered the inclosed space. dick had some dim perception of what was about to occur, but lone wolf informed him definitely. "the sun dance," he said. "many youths are about to become great warriors." the greatest of sun dances, a sun dance of the mighty allied sioux tribes, was about to begin. forward went the neophytes, every one clad only in a breechclout ornamented with beads, colored horsehair and eagle feathers, and with horse tails attached to it, falling to the ground. but every square inch of the neophyte's skin was painted in vivid and fantastic colors. even the nails on his fingers and toes were painted. moreover, everyone had pushed two small sticks of tough wood under the skin on each side of the breast, and to those two sticks was fastened a rawhide cord, making a loop about ten inches long. "what under the sun are those sticks and cords for?" asked albert, shuddering. "wait and we'll see," replied dick, who guessed too well their purpose, although he could not help but look. the neophytes advanced, and every one tied one of the long rawhide thongs depending from the top of the pole to the loop of cord that hung from his breast. when all were ready they formed a great circle, somewhat after the fashion of the dancers around a maypole, and outside of those formed another and greater circle of those already initiated. a medicine man began to blow a small whistle made from the wing bone of an eagle, the sacred bird of the sioux, and he never stopped blowing it for an instant. it gave forth a shrill, penetrating sound, that began after a while to work upon the nerves in a way that was almost unendurable to dick and albert. at the first sound of the whistle the warriors began to dance around the pole, keeping time to the weird music. it was a hideous and frightful dance, like some cruel rite of a far-off time. the object was to tear the peg from the body, breaking by violence through the skin and flesh that held it, and this proved that the neophyte by his endurance of excessive pain was fit to become a great warrior. but the pegs held fast for a long time, while the terrible, wailing cry of the whistle went on and on. dick and albert wanted to turn away--in fact, they had a violent impulse more than once to run from it--but the eyes of the sioux were upon them, and they knew that they would consider them cowards if they could not bear to look upon that which others no older than themselves endured. there was also the incessant, terrible wailing of the whistle, which seemed to charm them and hold them. the youths by and by began to pull loose from the thongs, and in some cases where it was evident that they would not be able to do so a medicine man would seize them by the shoulders and help pull. in no case did a dancer give up, although they often fell in a faint when loosed. then they were carried away to be revived, but for three days and three nights not a single neophyte could touch food, water, or any other kind of drink. they were also compelled, as soon as they recovered a measurable degree of strength, to join the larger group and dance three days and nights around the neophytes, who successively took their places. the whole sight, with the wailing of the whistle, the shouts of the dancers, the beat of their feet, and the hard, excited breathing of the thousands about them, became weird and uncanny. dick felt as if some strange, deadly odor had mounted to his brain, and while he struggled between going and staying a new shout arose. a fresh group of neophytes sprang into the inclosed place. every one of these had the little sticks thrust through the upper point of the shoulder blade instead of the breast, while from the loop dangled a buffalo head. they danced violently until the weight of the head pulled the sticks loose, and then, like their brethren of the pole, joined the great ring of outside dancers when they were able. the crowd of neophytes increased, as they gave way in turn to one another, and the thong about them thickened. hundreds and hundreds of dancers whirled and jumped to the shrill, incessant blowing of the eagle-bone whistle. it seemed at times to the excited imaginations of dick and albert that the earth rocked to the mighty tread of the greatest of all sun dances. indian stoicism was gone, perspiration streamed from dark faces, eyes became bloodshot as their owners danced with feverish vigor, savage shouts burst forth, and the demon dance grew wilder and wilder. the tread of thousands of feet caused a fine, impalpable dust to rise from the earth beneath the grass and to permeate all the air, filling the eyes and nostrils of the dancers, heating their brains and causing them to see through a red mist. some fell exhausted. if they were in the way, they were dragged to one side; if not, they lay where they fell, but in either case others took their places and the whirling multitude always increased in numbers. as far as dick and albert could see the sioux were dancing. there was a sea of tossing heads and a multitude of brown bodies shining with perspiration. never for a moment did the shrill, monotonous, unceasing rhythm of the whistle cease to dominate the dance. it always rose above the beat of the dancers, it penetrated everything, ruled everything--this single, shrill note, like the chant of a snake charmer. it even showed its power over dick and albert. they felt their nerves throbbing to it in an unwilling response, and the dust and the vivid electric excitement of the dancers began to heat their own brains. "don't forget that we're white, al! don't forget it!" cried dick. "i'm trying not to forget it!" gasped albert. the sun, a lurid, red sun, went down behind the hills, and a twilight that seemed to dick and albert phantasmagorial and shot with red crept over the earth. but the dance did not abate in either vigor or excitement; rather it increased. in the twilight and the darkness that followed it assumed new aspects of the weird and uncanny. despite the torches that flared up, the darkness was mainly in control. now the dancers, whirling about the pole and straining on the cords, were seen plainly, and now they were only shadows, phantoms in the dusk. dick and albert had moved but little for a long time; the wailing of the demon whistle held them; and they felt that there was a singular attraction, too, in this sight, which was barbarism and superstition pure and simple, yet not without its power. they were still standing there when the moon came out, throwing a veil of silver gauze over the dancers, the lodges, the surface of the river, and the hills, but it took nothing away from the ferocious aspect of the dance; it was still savagery, the custom of a remote, fierce, old world. dick and albert at last recovered somewhat; they threw off the power of the flute and the excited air that they breathed and began to assume again the position of mere spectators. it was then that bright sun came upon them, and they noticed with astonishment that he, the product of the white schools and of years of white civilization, had been dancing, too. there was perspiration on his face, his breath was short and quick, and his eyes were red with excitement. he marked their surprise, and said: "you think it strange that i, too, dance. you think all this barbarism and superstition, but it is not. it is the custom of my people, a custom that has the sanction of many centuries, and that is bred into our bone and blood. therefore it is of use to us, and it is more fit than anything else to arouse us for the great crisis that we are to meet." neither dick nor albert made any reply. both saw that the great deep of the sioux chief's stoicism was for the moment broken up. he might never be so stirred again, but there was no doubt of it now, and they could see his side of it, too. it was his people and their customs against the white man, the stranger. the blood of a thousand years was speaking in him. when he saw that they had no answer for him, bright sun left them and became engrossed once more with the dance, continually urging it forward, bringing on more neophytes, and increasing the excitement. dick and albert remained a while longer, looking on. their guards, lone wolf and pine tree, still stood beside them. the two young warriors, true to their orders, had made no effort to join the dancers, but their nostrils were twitching and their eyes bloodshot. the revel called to them incessantly, but they could not go. dick felt at last that he had seen enough of so wild a scene. one could not longer endure the surcharged air, the wailing of the whistle, the shouts, the chants, and the beat of thousands of feet. "al," he said, "let's go back to our lodge, if our guards will let us, and try to sleep." "the sooner the better," said albert. lone wolf and pine tree were willing enough, and dick suspected that they would join the dance later. after albert had gone in, he stood a moment at the door of the lodge and looked again upon this, the wildest and most extraordinary scene that he had yet beheld. it was late in the night and the center of the sun dance was some distance from the lodge, but the shrill wailing of the whistle still reached him and the heavy tread of the dancers came in monotonous rhythm. "it's the greatest of all nightmares," he said to himself. it was a long time before either dick or albert could sleep, and when dick awoke at some vague hour between midnight and morning he was troubled by a shrill, wailing note that the drum of his ear. then he remembered. the whistle! and after it came the rhythmic, monotonous beat of many feet, as steady and persistent as ever. the sun dance had never ceased for a moment, and he fell asleep again with the sounds of it still in his ear. the dance, which was begun at the ripening of the wild sage, continued three days and nights without the stop of an instant. no food and no drink passed the lips of the neophytes, who danced throughout that time--if they fell they rose to dance again. then at the appointed hour it all ceased, although every warrior's brain was at white heat and he was ready to go forth at once against a myriad enemies. it was as if everyone had drunk of some powerful and exciting eastern drug. the dance ended, they began to eat, and neither dick nor albert had ever before seen such eating. the cooking fires of the squaws rose throughout the entire five miles of the village. they had buffalo, deer, bear, antelope, and smaller game in abundance, and the warriors ate until they fell upon the ground, where the lay in a long stupor. the boys thought that many of them would surely die, but they came from their stupor unharmed and were ready for instant battle. there were many new warriors, too, because none had failed at the test, and all were eager to show their valor. "it's like baiting a wild beast," said dick. "there are five thousand ravening savages here, ready to fight anything, and to-night i'm going to try to escape." "if you try, i try, too," said albert. "of course," said dick. the village was resting from its emotional orgy, and the guard upon the two boys was relaxed somewhat. in fact, it seemed wholly unnecessary, as they were rimmed around by the vigilance of many thousand eyes. but, spurred by the cruel need, dick resolved that they should try. fortunately, the very next night was quite dark, and only a single indian, pine tree, was on guard. "it's to-night or never," whispered dick to albert within the shelter of the lodge. "they've never taken the trouble to bind us, and that gives us at least a fighting chance." "when shall we slip out?" "not before about three in the morning. that is the most nearly silent hour, and if the heathenish curs let us alone we may get away." fortune seemed to favor the two. the moon did not come out, and the promise of a dark night was fulfilled. an unusual stillness was over the village. it seemed that everybody slept. dick and albert waited through long, long hours. dick had nothing by which to reckon time, but he believed that he could calculate fairly well by guess, and once, when he thought it was fully midnight, he peeped out at the door of the lodge. pine tree was there, leasing against a sapling, but his attitude showed laziness and a lack of vigilance. it might be that, feeling little need of watching, he slept on his feet. dick devoutly hoped so. he waited at least two hours longer, and again peeped out. the attitude of pine tree had not changed. it must certainly be sleep that held him, and dick and albert prepared to go forth. they had no arms, and could trust only to silence and speed. dick was the first outside, and stood in the shadow of the lodge until albert joined him. there they paused to choose a way among the lodges and to make a further inspection of sleeping pine tree. the quiet of the village was not broken. the lodges stretched away in dusky rows and then were lost in darkness. this promised well, and their eyes came back to pine tree, who was still sleeping. then dick became conscious of a beam of light, or rather two beams. these beams shot straight from the open eyes of pine tree, who was not asleep at all. the next instant pine tree opened his mouth, uttered a yell that was amazingly loud and piercing, and leaped straight for the two boys. as neither dick nor albert had arms, they could do nothing but run, and they fled between the lodges at great speed, pine tree hot upon their heels. it amazed dick to find that the whole population of a big town could awake so quickly. warriors, squaws, and children swarmed from the lodges and fell upon him and albert in a mass. he could only see in the darkness that albert had been seized and dragged away, but he knew that two uncommonly strong old squaws had him by the hair, three half-grown boys were clinging to his legs, and a powerful warrior laid hold of his right shoulder. he deemed it wisest in such a position to yield as quickly and gracefully as he could, in the hope that the two wiry old women would be detached speedily from his hair. this object was achieved as soon as the sioux saw that he did not resist, and the vigilant pine tree stood before him, watching with an expression that dick feared could be called a grin. "the honors are yours," said dick as politely as he could, "but tell me what has become of my brother." "he is being taken to the other side of the river," said the voice of bright sun over pine tree's shoulder, "and he and you will be kept apart until we decide what to do with you. it was foolish in you to attempt to escape. i had warned you." "i admit it," said dick, "but you in my place would have done the same. once can only try." he tried to speak with philosophy, but he was sorely troubled over being separated from his brother. their comradeship in captivity had been a support to each other. there was no sympathy in the voice of bright sun. he spoke coldly, sternly, like a great war chief. dick understood, and was too proud to make any appeal. bright sun said a few words to the warriors, and walked away. dick was taken to another and larger lodge, in which several warriors slept. there, after his arms were securely bound, he was allowed to lie down on a rush mat, with warriors on rush mats on either side of him. dick was not certain whether the warriors slept, but he knew that he did not close his eyes again that night. although strong and courageous, dick howard suffered much mental torture. bright sun was a sioux, wholly an indian (he had seen that at the sun dance), and if albert and he were no longer of any possible use as hostages, bright sun would not trouble himself to protect them. he deeply regretted their wild attempt at escape, which he had felt from the first was almost hopeless. yet he believed, on second thought, that they had been justified in making the trial. the great sun dance, the immense gathering of warriors keyed for battle, showed the imminent need for warning to the white commanders, who would not dream that the sioux were in such mighty force. between this anxiety and that other one for albert, thinking little of himself meanwhile, dick writhed in his bonds. but he could do nothing else. the warriors rose from their rush mats at dawn and ate flesh of the buffalo and deer and their favorite wa-nsa. dick's arms were unbound, and he, too, was allowed to eat; but he had little appetite, and when the warriors saw that he had finished they bound him again. "what are you going to do to me?" asked dick in a kind of vague curiosity. no one gave any answer. they did not seem to hear him. dick fancied that some of them understood english, but chose to leave him in ignorance. he resolved to imitate their own stoicism and wait. when they bound his arms again, and his feet also, he made no resistance, but lay down quietly on the rush mat and gazed with an air of indifference at the skin wall of the lodge. all warriors went out, except one, who sat in the doorway with his rifle on his knee. "they flatter me," thought dick. "they must think me of some importance or that i'm dangerous, since they bind and guard me so well." his thongs of soft deerskin, while secure, were not galling. they neither chafed nor prevented the circulation, and when he grew tired of lying in one position he could turn into another. but it was terribly hard waiting. he did not know what was before him. torture or death? both, most likely. he tried to be resigned, but how could one be resigned when one was so young and so strong? the hum of the village life came to him, the sound of voices, the tread of feet, the twang of a boyish bowstring, but the guard in the doorway never stirred. it seemed to dick that the sioux, who wore very little clothing, was carved out of reddish-brown stone. dick wondered if he would ever move, and lying on his back he managed to raise his head a little on the doubled corner of the rush mat, and watch that he might see. bound, helpless, and shut off from the rest of the world, this question suddenly became vital to him: would that indian ever move, or would he not? he must have been sitting in that position at least two hours. always he stared straight before him, the muscles on his bare arms never quivered in the slightest, and the rifle lay immovable across knees which also were bare. how could he do it? how could he have such control over his nerves and body? dick's mind slowly filled with wonder, and then he began to have a suspicion that the sioux was not real, merely some phantom of the fancy, or that he himself was dreaming. it made him angry--angry at himself, angry at the sioux, angry at everything. he closed his eyes, held them tightly shut for five minutes, and then opened them again. the sioux was still there. dick was about to break through his assumed stoicism and shout at the warrior, but he checked himself, and with a great effort took control again of his wandering nerves. he knew now that the warrior was real, and that he must have moved some time or other, but he did not find rest of spirit. a shaft of sunshine by and by entered the narrow door of the lodge and fell across dick himself. he knew that it must be a fair day, but he was sorry for it. the sun ought not to shine when he was at such a pass. another interminable period passed, and an old squaw entered with a bowl of wa-nsa, and behind her came lone wolf, who unbound dick. "what's up now, mr. lone wolf?" asked dick with an attempt at levity. "is it a fight or a foot race?" "eat," replied lone wolf sententiously, pointing of the bowl wa-nsa. "you will need your strength." dick's heart fell at these words despite all his self-command. "my time's come," he thought. he tried to eat--in fact, he forced himself to eat--that lone wolf might not think that he quailed, and when he had eaten as much as his honor seemed to demand he stretched his muscles and said to lone wolf, with a good attempt at indifference: "lead on, my wolfish friend. i don't know what kind of a welcome mine is going to be, but i suppose it is just as well to find out now." the face of lone wolf did not relax. he seemed to have a full appreciation of what was to come and no time for idle jests. he merely pointed to the doorway, and dick stepped into the sunshine. lying so long in the dusky lodge, he was dazzled at first by the brilliancy of the day, but when his sight grew stronger he beheld a multitude about him. the women and children began to chatter, but the warriors were silent. dick saw that he was the center of interest, and was quite sure that he was looking upon his last sun. "o lord, let me die bravely!" was his silent prayer. he resolved to imitate as nearly as he could the bearing of an indian warrior in his position, and made no resistance as lone wolf led him on, with the great thong following. he glanced around once for bright sun, but did not see him. the fierce chief whom they called ite-moga' ju (rain-in-the-face) seemed to be in charge of dick's fate, and he directed the proceedings. but stoicism could not prevail entirely, and dick looked about him again. he saw the yellow waters of the river with the sunlight playing upon them; the great village stretching away on either shore until it was hidden by the trees and undergrowth; the pleasant hills and all the pleasant world, so hard to leave. his eyes dwelt particularly upon the hill, a high one, overlooking the whole valley of the little big horn, and the light was so clear that he could see every bush and shrub waving there. his eyes came back from the hill to the throng about him. he had felt at times a sympathy for the sioux because the white man was pressing upon them, driving them from their ancient hunting grounds that they loved; but they were now wholly savage and cruel--men, women, and children alike. he hated them all. dick was taken to the summit of one of the lower hills, on which he could be seen by everybody and from which he could see in a vast circle. he was tied in a peculiar manner. his hands remained bound behind him, but his feet were free. one end of a stout rawhide was secured around his waist and the other around a sapling, leaving him a play of about a half yard. he could not divine the purpose of this, but he was soon to learn. six half-grown boys, with bows and arrows, then seldom used by grown sioux, formed a line at a little distance from him, and at a word from rain-in-the-face leveled their bows and fitted arrow to the string. dick thought at first they were going to slay him at once, but he remembered that the indian did not do things that way. he knew it was some kind of torture and although he shivered he steadied his mind to face it. rain-in-the-face spoke again, and six bowstrings twanged. six arrows whizzed by dick, three on one side and three on the other, but all so close that, despite every effort of will, he shrank back against the sapling. a roar of laughter came from the crowd, and dick flushed through all the tan of two years in the open air. now he understood why the rawhide allowed him so much play. it was a torture of the nerves and of the mind. they would shoot their arrows by him, graze him perhaps if he stood steady, but if he sought to evade through fear, if he sprang either to one side or the other, they might strike in a vital spot. he summoned up the last ounce of his courage, put his back against the sapling and resolved that he would not move, even if an arrow carried some of his skin with it. the bowstrings twanged again, and again six arrows whistled by. dick quivered, but he did not move, and some applause came from the crowd. although it was the applause of enemies, of barbarians, who wished to see him suffer, it encouraged dick. he would endure everything and he would not look at these cruel faces; so he fixed his eyes on the high hill and did not look away when the bowstrings twanged a third time. as before, he heard the arrows whistle by him, and the shiver came into his blood, but his will did not let it extend to his body. he kept his eyes fixed upon the hill, and suddenly a speck appeared before them. no, it was not a speck, and, incredible as it seemed, dick was sure that he saw a horseman come around the base of the hill and stop there, gazing into the valley upon the great village and the people thronging about the bound boy. a second and third horseman appeared, and dick could doubt no longer. they were white cavalrymen in the army uniform, scouts or the vanguard, he knew not what. dick held his breath, and again that shiver came into his blood. then he heard and saw an extraordinary thing. a singular deep, long-drawn cry came from the multitude in unison, a note of surprise and mingled threat. then all whirled about at the same moment and gazed at the horsemen at the base of the hill. the cavalrymen quickly turned back, rode around the hill and out of sight. dozens of warriors rushed forward, hundreds ran to the lodges for more weapons and ammunition, the women poured in a stream down toward the river and away, the boys with the bows and arrows disappeared, and in a few minutes dick was left alone. unnoticed, but bound and helpless, the boy stood there on the little hill, while the feverish life, bursting now into a turbulent stream, whirled and eddied around him. chapter xviii the circle of death the quiver in dick's blood did not cease now. he forgot for the time being that he was bound, and stood there staring at the hill where three horsemen had been for a few vivid moments. these men must be proof that a white army was near; but would this army know what an immense sioux force was waiting for it in the valley of the little big horn? he tried to take his eyes away from the hill, but he could not. he seemed to know every tree and shrub on it. there at the base, in that slight depression, the three horsemen had stood, but none came to take their place. in the indian village an immense activity was going on, both on dick's side of the river and the other. a multitude of warriors plunged into the undergrowth on the far bank of the stream, where they lay hidden, while another multitude was gathering on this side in front of the lodges. the gullies and ravines were lined with hordes. the time was about two in the afternoon. a chief appeared on the slope not far from dick. it was bright sun in all the glory of battle array, and he glanced at the tethered youth. dick's glance met his, and he saw the shadow of a faint, superior smile on the face of the chief. bright sun started to say something to a warrior, but checked himself. he seemed to think that dick was secured well enough, and he did not look at him again. instead, he gazed at the base of the hill where the horsemen had been, and while he stood there he was joined by the chiefs rain-in-the-face and young-man-afraid-of-his-horses. dick never knew how long a time passed while they all waited. the rattle of arms, the shouts, and the tread of feet in the village ceased. there was an intense, ominous silence broken only, whether in fact or fancy dick could not tell, by the heavy breathing of thousands. the sun came out more brightly and poured its light over the town and the river, but it did not reveal the army of the sioux swallowed up in the undergrowth on the far bank. so well were they hidden that their arms gave back no gleam. dick forgot where he was, forgot that he was bound, so tense were the moments and so eagerly did he watch the base of the hill. when a long time--at least, dick thought it so--had passed, a murmur came from the village below. the men were but scouts and had gone away, and no white army was near. that was dick's own thought, too. as the murmur sank, dick suddenly straightened up. the black speck appeared again before his eyes. new horsemen stood where the three had been, and behind them was a moving mass, black in the sun. the white army had come! bright sun suddenly turned upon dick a glance so full of malignant triumph that the boy shuddered. then, clear and full over the valley rose the battle cry of the trumpets, a joyous inspiring sound calling men on to glory or death. out from the hill came the moving mass of white horsemen, rank after rank, and dick saw one in front, a man with long yellow hair, snatch off his hat, wave it around his head, and come on at a gallop. behind him thundered the whole army, stirrup to stirrup. bright sun, rain-in-the-face, and young-man-afraid-of-his-horses darted away, and then dick thought of the freedom that he wanted so much. they were his people coming so gallantly down the valley, and he should be there. he pulled at the rawhide, but it would not break; he tried to slip his wrists loose, but they would not come; and, although unnoticed now, he was compelled to stand there, still a prisoner, and merely see. the horsemen came on swiftly, a splendid force riding well--trained soldiers, compact of body and ready of hand. the slope thundered with their hoofbeats as they came straight toward the river. dick drew one long, deep breath of admiration, and then a terrible fear assailed him. did these men who rode so well know unto what they were riding? the stillness prevailed yet a little longer in the indian village. the women and children were again running up the river, but they were too far away for dick to hear them, and he was watching his own army. straight on toward the river rode the horsemen, with the yellow-haired general at their head, still waving his hat. strong and mellow, the song of the trumpet again sang over the valley, but the terrible fear at dick's heard grew. it was obvious to the boy that the army of custer intended to cross the river, here not more than two feet deep, but on their flank was the deadly quicksand and on the opposite shore facing them the hidden warriors lay in the hundreds. dick pulled again at his bonds and began to shout: "not there! not there! turn away!" but his voice was lost in the pealing of the trumpets and the hoof beats of many horses. they were nearing the river and the warriors were swarming on their flank, still held in leash by bright sun, while the great medicine man, sitting bull, the sweat pouring from his face, was making the most powerful medicine of his life. nearer and nearer they rode, the undergrowth still waving gently and harmlessly in the light wind. dick stopped shouting. all at once he was conscious of its futility. nobody heard him. nobody heeded him. he was only an unnoticed spectator of a great event. he stood still now, back to the tree, gazing toward the river and the advancing force. something wet dropped into his eye and he winked it away. it was the sweat from his own brow. the mellow notes of the trumpet sang once more, echoing far over the valley, and the hoofs beat with rhythmic tread. the splendid array of blue-clad men was still unbroken. they still rode heel to heel and toe to toe, and across the river the dense undergrowth moved a little in the gentle wind, but disclosed nothing. a few yards more and they would be at the water. then dick saw a long line of flame burst from the bushes, so vivid, so intense that it was like a blazing bar of lightening, and a thousand rifles seemed to crash as one. hard on the echo of the great volley came the fierce war cry of the ambushed sioux, taken up in turn by the larger force on the flank and swelled by the multitude of women and children farther back. it was to dick like the howl of wolves about to leap on their prey, but many times stronger and fiercer. the white army shivered under the impact of the blow, when a thousand unexpected bullets were sent into its ranks. all the front line was blown away, the men were shot from their saddles, and many of the horses went down with them. others, riderless, galloped about screaming with pain and fright. although the little army shivered and reeled for a moment, it closed up again and went on toward the water. once more the deadly rifle fire burst from the undergrowth, not a single volley now, but continuous, rising and falling a little perhaps, but always heavy, filling the air with singing metal and littering the ground with the wounded and the dead. the far side of the river was a sheet of fire, and in the red blaze the sioux could be seen plainly springing about in the undergrowth. the cavalrymen began to fire also, sending their bullets across the river as fast as they could pull the trigger, but they were attacked on the flank, too, by the vast horde of warriors, directed by the bravest of the sioux chiefs, the famous pizi (gall), one of the most skillful and daring fighters the red race ever produced, a man of uncommon appearance, of great height, and with the legendary head of a caesar. he now led on the horde with voice and gesture, and hurled it against custer's force, which was reeling again under the deadly fire from the other shore of the little big horn. the shouting of the warriors and of the thousands of women and children who watched the battle was soon lost to dick in the steady crash of the rifle fire which filled the whole valley--sharp, incessant, like the drum of thunder in the ear. a great cloud of smoke arose and drifted over the combatants, white and red, but this smoke was pierced by innumerable flashes of fire as the red swarms pressed closer and the white replied. some flaw in the wind lifted the smoke and sent it high over the heads of all. dick saw custer, the general with the yellow hair, still on horseback and apparently unwounded, but the little army had stopped. it had been riddled already by the rifle fire from the undergrowth and could not cross the river. the dead and wounded on the ground had increased greatly in numbers, and the riderless horses galloped everywhere. some of them rushed blindly into the indian ranks, where they were seized. three or four troopers had fallen or plunged into the terrible quicksand on the other flank, and as dick looked they were slowly swallowed up. he shut his eyes, unable to bear the sight, and when he opened them he did not see the men any more. the smoke flowed in again and then was driven away once more. dick saw that all of custer's front ranks were now dismounted, and were replying to the fire from the other side of the river. undaunted by the terrible trap into which they had ridden they came so near to the bank that many of them were slain there, and their bodies fell into the water, where they floated. dick saw the yellow-haired leader wave his hat again, and the front troopers turned back from the bank. the whole force turned with them. all who yet lived or could ride now sprang from their horses, firing at the same time into the horde about them. their ranks were terribly thinned, but they still formed a compact body, despite the rearing and kicking of the horses, many of which were wounded also. dick was soldier enough to know what they wished to do. they were trying to reach the higher ground, the hills, where they could make a better defense, and he prayed mutely that they might do it. the sioux saw, too, what was intended, and they gave forth a yell so full of ferocity and exultation that dick shuddered from head to foot. the yell was taken up by the fierce squaws and boys who hovered in the rear, until it echoed far up and down the banks of the little big horn. the white force, still presenting a steady front and firing fast, made way. the warriors between them and the hill which they seemed to be seeking were driven back, but the attack on their rear, and now on both flanks, grew heavier and almost unbearable. the outer rim of custer's army was continually being cut off, and when new men took the places of the others they, too, were shot down. his numbers and the space on which they stood were reduced steadily, yet they did not cease to go on, although the pace became slower. it was like a wounded beast creeping along and fighting with tooth and claw, while the hunters swarmed about him in numbers always increasing. custer bore diagonally to the left, going, in the main, downstream, but a fresh force was now thrown against him. the great body of warriors who had been hidden in the undergrowth on the other side of the little big horn crossed the stream when he fell back and flung themselves upon his flank and front. he was compelled now to stop, although he had not gone more than four hundred yards, and dick, from his hill, saw the actions of the troops. they stood there for perhaps five minutes firing into the sioux, who were now on every side. they formed a kind of hollow square with some of the men in the center holding the horses, which were kicking and struggling and adding to the terrible confusion. the leader with the yellow hair was yet alive. dick saw him plainly, and knew by his gestures that he was still cheering on his men. a movement now took place. dick saw the white force divided. a portion of it deployed in a circular manner to the left, and the remainder turned in a similar fashion to the right, although they did not lose touch. the square was now turned into a rude circle with the horses still in the center. they stood on a low hill, and so far as dick could see they would not try to go any farther. the fire of the defenders had sunk somewhat, but he saw the men rushing to the horses for the extra ammunition--that was why they hung to the horses--and then the fire rose again in intensity and volume. confident in their numbers and the success that they had already won, the sioux pressed forward from every side in overwhelming masses. all the great chiefs led them--gall, crazy horse, young-man-afraid-of-his-horses, grass, and the others. bright sun continually passed like a flame, inciting the hordes to renewed attacks, while the redoubtable sitting bull never ceased to make triumphant medicine. but it was gall, of the magnificent head and figure, the very model of a great savage warrior, who led at the battle front. reckless of death, but always unwounded, he led the sioux up to the very muzzles of the white rifles, and when they were driven back he would lead them up again. dick had heard all his life that indians would not charge white troops in the open field, but here they did it, not one time, but many. dick believed that if he were to die that moment the picture of that terrible scene would be found photographed upon his eyeballs. it had now but little form or feature for him. all he could see was the ring of his own blue-clad people in the center and everywhere around them the howling thousands, men mostly naked to the breechclout, their bodies wet with the sweat of their toiling, and their eyes filled with the fury of the savage in victorious battle--details that he could not see, although they were there. alike over the small circle and the vast one inclosing it the smoke drifted in great clouds, but beneath it the field was lit up by the continuous red flash of the rifles. dick wondered that anybody could live where so many bullets were flying in the air; yet there was custer's force, cut down much more, but the core of it still alive and fighting, while the sioux were so numerous that they did not miss their own warriors who had fallen, although there were many. the unbroken crash of the rifle fire had gone on so long now that dick scarcely noticed it, nor did he heed the great howling of the squaws farther up the stream. he was held by what his eyes saw, and he did not take them from the field for an instant. he saw one charge, a second and third hurled back, and although he was not conscious of it he shouted aloud in joy. "they'll drive them off! they'll drive them off for good!" he exclaimed, although in his heart he never believed it. the wind after a while took another change, and the dense clouds of smoke hung low over the field, hiding for the time the little white army that yet fought. although dick could see nothing now, he still gazed into the heart of the smoke bank. he did not know then that a second battle was in progress on the other side of the town. custer before advancing had divided his force, giving a little more than half of it to reno, who, unconscious of custer's deadly peril, was now being beaten off. dick had no thought for anything but custer, not even of his own fate. would they drive the sioux away? he ran his tongue over his parched lips and tugged at the bonds that held his wrists. the wind rose again and blew the smoke to one side. the battlefield came back into the light, and dick saw that the white force still fought. but many of the men were on their knees now, using their revolvers, and dick feared the terrible event that really happened--their ammunition was giving out, and the savage horde, rimming them on all sides, was very near. he did not know how long the battle had lasted, but it seemed many hours to him. the sun was far down in the west, gilding the plains and hills with tawny gold, but the fire and smoke of conflict filled the whole valley of the little big horn. "perhaps night will save those who yet live," thought dick. but the fire of the savages rose. fresh ammunition was brought to them, and after every repulse they returned to the attack, pressing closer at every renewal. dick saw the leader at the edge of the circle almost facing his hill. his hat was gone, and his long yellow hair flew wildly, but he still made gestures to his men and bade them fight on. then dick lost him in the turmoil, but he saw some of the horses pull loose from the detaining hands, burst through the circle, and plunge among the sioux. now came a pause in the firing, a sudden sinking, as if by command, and the smoke thinned. the circle which had been sprouting flame on every side also grew silent for a moment, whether because the enemy had ceased or the cartridges were all gone dick never knew. but it was the silence of only an instant. there was a tremendous shout, a burst of firing greater than any that had gone before, and the whole sioux horde poured forward. the warriors, charging in irresistible masses from side to side, met in the center, and when the smoke lifted from the last great struggle dick saw only sioux. of all the gallant little army that had charged into the valley not a soul was now living, save a crow indian scout, who, when all was lost, let down his hair after the fashion of a sioux, and escaped in the turmoil as one of their own people. chapter xix a happy meeting when dick howard saw that the raging sioux covered the field and that the little army was destroyed wholly he could bear the sight no longer, and, reeling back against the tree, closed his eyes. for a little while, even with eyes shut, he still beheld the red ruin, and then darkness came over him. he never knew whether he really fainted or whether it was merely a kind of stupor brought on by so many hours of battle and fierce excitement, but when he opened his eyes again much time had passed. the sun was far down in the west and the dusky shadows were advancing. over the low hill where custer had made his last stand the sioux swarmed, scalping until they could scalp no more. behind them came thousands of women and boys, shouting from excitement and the drunkenness of victory. it was all incredible, unreal to dick, some hideous nightmare that would soon pass away when he awoke. such a thing as this could not be! yet it was real, it was credible, he was awake and he had seen it--he had seen it all from the moment that the first trooper appeared in the valley until the last fell under the overwhelming charge of the sioux. he still heard, in the waning afternoon, their joyous cries over their great victory, and he saw their dusky forms as they rushed here and there over the field in search of some new trophy. dick was not conscious of any physical feeling at all--neither weariness, nor fear, nor thought of the future. it seemed to him that the world had come to an end with the ending of the day. the shadows thickened and advanced. the west was a sea of dusk. the distant lodges of the village passed out of sight. the battlefield itself became dim and it was only phantom figures that roamed over it. all the while dick was unnoticed, forgotten in the great event, and as the night approached the desire for freedom returned to him. he was again a physical being, feeling pain, and from habit rather than hope he pulled once more at the rawhide cords that held his wrists--he did not know that he had been tugging at them nearly all afternoon. he wrenched hard and the unbelievable happened. the rawhide, strained upon so long, parted, and his hands fell to his side. dick slowly raised his right wrist to the level of his eyes and looked at it, as if it belonged to another man. there was a red and bleeding ring around it where the rawhide had cut deep, making a scar that took a year in the fading, but his numbed nerves still felt no pain. he let the right wrist sink back and raised the left one. it had the same red ring around it, and he looked at it curiously, wonderingly. then he let the left also drop to his side, while he stood, back against the tree, looking vaguely at the dim figures of the sioux who roamed about in the late twilight still in that hideous search for trophies. it was while he was looking at the sioux that an abrupt thought came to dick. those were his own wrists at which he had been looking. his hands were free! why not escape in all this turmoil and excitement, with the friendly and covering night also at hand. it was like the touch of electricity. he was instantly alive, body and mind. he knew who he was and what had happened, and he wanted to get away. now was the time! the rawhide around dick's waist was strong and it had been secured with many knots. he picked at it slowly and with greatest care, and all the time he was in fear lest the sioux should remember him. but the sun was now quite down, the last bars of red and gold were gone, and the east as well as the west was in darkness. the field of battle was hidden and only voices came up from it. two warriors passed on the slope of the hill and dick, ceasing his work, shrank against the trunk of the tree, but they went on, and when they were out of sight he began again to pick at the knots. one knot after another was unloosed, and at last the rawhide fell from his waist. he was free, but he staggered as he walked a little way down the slope of the hill and his fingers were numb. yet his mind was wholly clear. it had recovered from the great paralytic shock caused by the sight of the lost battle, and he intended to take every precaution needed for escape. he sat down in a little clump of bushes, where he was quite lost to view, and rubbed his limbs long and hard until the circulation was active. his wrists had stopped bleeding, and he bound about them little strips that he tore from his clothing. then he threw away his cap--the sioux did not wear caps, and he meant to look as much like a sioux as he could. that was not such a difficult matter, as he was dressed in tanned skins, and wind and weather had made him almost as brown as an indian. midway of the slope he stopped and looked down. the night had come, but the stars were not yet out. he could see only the near lodges, but many torches flared now over the battle field and in the village. he started again, bearing away from the hill on which custer had fallen, but pursuing a course that led chiefly downstream. once he saw dusky figures, but they took no notice of him. once a hideous old squaw, carrying some terrible trophy in her hand, passed near, and dick thought that all was lost. he was really more afraid at this time of the sharp eyes of the old squaws than those of the warriors. but she passed on, and dick dropped down into a little ravine that ran from the field. his feet touched a tiny stream that trickled at the bottom of the ravine, and he leaped away in shuddering horror. the soles of his mocassins were now red. but he made progress. he was leaving the village farther behind, and the hum of voices was not so loud. one of his greatest wishes now was to find arms. he did not intend to be recaptured, and if the sioux came upon him he wanted at least to make a fight. a dark shape among some short bushes attracted his attention. it looked like the form of a man, and when he went closer he saw that it was the body of a sioux warrior, slain by a distant bullet from custer's circle. his carbine lay beside him and he wore an ammunition belt full of cartridges. dick, without hesitation, took both, and felt immensely strengthened. the touch of the rifle gave him new courage. he was a man now ready to meet men. he reached another low hill and stood there a little while, listening. he heard an occasional whoop, and may lights flared here and there in the village, but no warrior was near. he saw on one side of him the high hill, at the base of which the first cavalrymen had appeared, and around which the army had ridden a little later to its fate. dick was seized with a sudden unreasoning hatred of the hill itself, standing there black and lowering in the darkness. he shook his fist at it, and then, ashamed of his own folly, hurried his flight. everything was aiding him now. if any chance befell, that chance was in his favor. swiftly he left behind the field of battle, the great indian village, and all the sights and sounds of that fatal day, which would remain stamped on his brain as long as he lived. he did not stop until he was beyond the hills inclosing the valley, and then he bent back again toward the little big horn. he intended to cross the river and return toward the village on the other side, having some dim idea that he might find and rescue albert. dick was now in total silence. the moon and the stars were not yet out, but he had grown used to the darkness and he could see the low hills, the straggling trees, and the clumps of undergrowth. he was absolutely alone again, but when he closed his eyes he saw once more with all the vividness of reality that terrible battle field, the closing in of the circle of death, the last great rush of the sioux horde, and the blotting out of the white force. he still heard the unbroken crash of the rifle fire that had continued for hours, and the yelling of the sioux that rose and fell. but when he opened his eyes the silence became painful, it was so heavy and oppressive. he felt lonely and afraid, more afraid than he had even been for himself while the battle was in progress. it seemed to him that he was pursued by the ghosts of the fallen, and he longed for the company of his own race. dick was not conscious of hunger or fatigue. his nerves were still keyed too high to remember such things, and now he turned down to the little big horn. remembering the terrible quicksand, he tried the bank very gingerly before he stepped into the water. it was sandy, but it held him, and then he waded in boldly, holding his rifle and belt of cartridges above his head. he knew that the river was not deep, but it came to his waist here, and once he stepped into a hole to his armpits, but he kept the rifle and cartridges dry. the waters were extremely cold, but dick did not know it, and when he reached the desired shore he shook himself like a dog until the drops flew and then began the perilous task of returning to the village on the side farthest from custer's battle. he went carefully along the low, wooded shores, keeping well in the undergrowth, which was dense, and for an hour he heard and saw nothing of the sioux. he knew why. they were still rejoicing over their great victory, and although he knew little of indian customs he believed that the scalp dance must be in progress. the moon and stars came out. a dark-blue sky, troubled by occasional light clouds, bent over him. he began at last to feel the effects of the long strain, mental and physical. his clothes were nearly dry on him, but for the first time he felt cold and weak. he went on, nevertheless; he had no idea of stopping even if he were forced to crawl. he reached the crest of a low hill and looked down again on the indian village, but from a point far from the hill on which he had stood during the battle. he saw many lights, torches and camp fires, and now and then dusky figures moving against the background of the flames, and then a great despair overtook him. to rescue albert would be in itself difficult enough, but how was he ever to find him in that huge village, five miles long? he did not permit his despair to last long. he would make the trial in some manner, how he did not yet know, but he must make it. he descended the low hill and entered a clump of bushes about fifty yards from the banks of the little big horn. here he stopped and quickly sank down. he had heard a rustling at the far edge of the clump, and he was sure, too, that he had seen a shadowy figure. the figure had disappeared instantly, but dick was confident that a sioux warrior was hidden in the bushes not ten yards away. it was his first impulse to retreat as silently as he could, but the impulse swiftly gave way to a fierce anger. he remembered that he carried a rifle and plenty of cartridges, and he was seized with a sudden vague belief that he might strike a blow in revenge for the terrible loss of the day. it could be but a little blow, he could strike down only one, but he was resolved to do it--he had been through what few boys are ever compelled to see and endure, and his mind was not in its normal state. he turned himself now into an indian, crawling and creeping with deadly caution through the bushes, exercising an infinite patience that he might make no leaf or twig rustle, and now and then looking carefully over the tops of the bushes to see that his enemy had not fled. as he advanced he held his rifle well forward, that he might take instant aim when the time came. dick was a full ten minutes in traveling ten yards, and then he saw the dark figure of the warrior crouched low in the bushes. the sioux had not seen him and was watching for his approach from some other point. the figure was dim, but dick slowly raised his rifle and took careful aim at the head. his finger reached the trigger, but when it got there it refused to obey his will. he was not a savage; he was white, with the civilized blood of many generations, and he could not shoot down an enemy whose back was turned to him. but he maintained his aim, and using some old expression that he had heard he cried, "throw up your hands!" the crouching figure sprang to its feet, and a remembered voice exclaimed in overwhelming surprise and delight: "dick! dick! is that you, dick?" dick dropped the muzzle of his rifle and stared. he could not take it in for the moment. it was albert--a ragged, dirty, pale, and tired albert, but a real live albert just the same. the brothers stared at each other by the same impulse, and then by the same impulse rushed forward, grasped each other's hands, wringing them and shouting aloud for joy. "is it you, al? how on earth did you ever get here?" "is it you, dick? where on earth did you come from?" they sat down in the bushes, both still trembling with excitement and the relief from suspense, and dick told of the fatal day, how he had been bound to the tree on the hill, and how he had seen all the battle, from its beginning to the end, when no white soldier was left alive. "do you mean that they were all killed, dick?" asked albert in awed tones. "every one," replied dick. "there was a ring of fire and steel around them through which no man could break. but they were brave, al, they were brave! they beat off the thousands of that awful horde for hours and hours." "who led them?" "i don't know. i had no way of knowing, but it was a gallant man with long yellow hair. i saw him with his hat off, waving it to encourage his men. now tell me, al, how you got here." "when they seized us," replied albert, "they carried me, kicking and fighting as best i could, up the river. i made up my mind that i'd never see you again, dick, as i was sure that they'd kill you right away. i expected them to finish me up, too, soon, but they didn't. i suppose it was because they were busy with bigger things. "they pushed me along for at least two miles. then they crossed the river, shoved me into a bark lodge, and fastened the door on me. they didn't take the trouble to bind me, feeling sure, i suppose, that i couldn't get out of the lodge and the village, too; and i certainly wouldn't have had any chance to do it if a battle hadn't begun after i had been there a long time in the darkness of the lodge. i thought at first that it was the sioux firing at targets, but then it became too heavy and there was too much shouting. "the firing went on a long time, and i pulled and kicked for an hour at the lodge door. because no one came, no matter how much noise i made, i knew that something big was going on, and i worked all the harder. when i looked out at last, i saw many warriors running up and down and great clouds of smoke. i sneaked out, got into a smoke bank just as a sioux shot at me, lay down in a little ravine, after a while jumped up and ran again through the smoke, and reached the bushes, where i lay hidden flat on my face until the night came. while i was there i heard the firing die down and saw our men driven off after being cut up badly." "it's awful! awful!" groaned dick. "i didn't know there were so many sioux in the world, and maybe our generals didn't, either. that must have been the trouble." "when the darkness set in good," resumed albert. "i started to run. i knew that no sioux were bothering about me then, but i tell you that i made tracks, dick. i had no arms, and i didn't know where i was going; but i meant to leave those sioux some good miles behind. after a while i got back part of my courage, and then i came back here to look around for you, thinking you might have just such a chance as i did." "brave old al," said dick. "you came, too." "i was armed and you were not." "it comes to the same thing, and you did have the chance." "yes, and we're together again. we've been saved once more, al, when the others have fallen. now the thing for us to do is to get away from here as fast as we can. which way do you think those troops on your side of the village retreated?" albert extended his finger toward a point on the dusky horizon. "off there somewhere," he replied. "then we'll follow them. come on." the two left the bushes and entered the hills. chapter xx bright sun's good-by dick and albert had not gone far before they saw lights on the bluffs of the little big horn. dick had uncommonly keen eyes, and when he saw a figure pass between him and the firelight he was confident that it was not that of a sioux. the clothing was too much like a trooper's. "stop, al," he said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "i believe some of our soldiers are here." the two crept as near as they dared and watched until they saw another figure pause momentarily against the background of the firelight. "it's a trooper, sure," said dick, "and we've come to our own people at last. come, al, we'll join them." they started forward on a run. there was a flash of flame, a report, and a bullet whistled between them. "we're friends, not sioux!" shouted dick. "we're escaping from the savages! don't fire!" they ran forward again, coming boldly into the light, and no more shots were fired at them. they ran up the slope to the crest of the bluff, leaped over a fresh earthwork, and fell among a crowd of soldiers in blue. dick quickly raised himself to his feet, and saw soldiers about him, many of them wounded, all of them weary and drawn. others were hard at work with pick and spade, and from a distant point of the earthwork came the sharp report of rifle shots. these were the first white men that dick and albert had seen in nearly two years, and their hearts rose in their throats. "who are you?" asked a lieutenant, holding up a lantern and looking curiously at the two bare-headed, brown, and half-wild youths who stood before him in their rough attire of tanned skins. they might readily have passed in the darkness for young sioux warriors. "i am dick howard," replied dick, standing up as straight as his weakness would let him, "and this is my brother albert. we were with an emigrant trail, all the rest of which was massacred two years ago by the sioux. since then we have been in the mountains, hunting and trapping." the lieutenant looked at him suspiciously. dick still stood erect and returned his gaze, but albert, overpowered by fatigue, was leaning against the earthwork. a half dozen soldiers stood near, watching them curiously. from the woods toward the river came the sound of more rifle shots. "where have you come from to-night? and how?" asked the lieutenant sharply. "we escaped from the sioux village," replied dick. "i was in one part of it and my brother in another. we met by chance or luck in the night, but in the afternoon i saw all the battle in which the army was destroyed." "army destroyed! what do you mean?" exclaimed the officer. "we were repulsed, but we are here. we are not destroyed." the suspicion in his look deepened, but dick met him with unwavering eye. "it was on the other side of the town," he replied. "another army was there. it was surrounded by thousands of sioux, but it perished to the last man. i saw them gallop into the valley, led by a general with long yellow hair." "custer!" exclaimed some one, and a deep groan came from the men in the dusk. "what nonsense is this!" exclaimed the officer. "do you dare tell me that custer and his entire command have perished?" dick felt his resentment rising. "i tell you only the truth," he said. "there was a great battle, and our troops, led by a general with long yellow hair, perished utterly. the last one of them is dead. i saw it all with my own eyes." again that deep groan came from the men in the dusk. "i can't believe it!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "custer and whole force dead! where were you? how did you see all this?" "the sioux had tied me to a tree in order that the indian boys might amuse themselves by grazing me with arrows--my brother and i had been captured when we were on the plains--but they were interrupted by the appearance of troops in the valley. then the battle began. it lasted a long time, and i was forgotten. about twilight i managed to break loose, and i escaped by hiding in the undergrowth. my brother, who was on the other side of town, escaped in much the same way." "sounds improbable, very improbable!" muttered the lieutenant. suddenly an old sergeant, who had been standing near, listening attentively, exclaimed: "look at the boy's wrists, lieutenant! they've got just the marks than an indian rawhide would make!" dick impulsively held up his wrists, from which the bandages had fallen without his notice. a deep red ring encircled each, and it was obvious from their faces that others believed, even if the lieutenant did not. but he, too, dropped at least a part of his disbelief. "i cannot deny your story of being captives among the sioux," he said, "because you are white and the look of your eyes is honest. but you must be mistaken about custer. they cannot all have fallen; it was your excitement that made you think it." dick did not insist. he was the bearer of bad news, but he would not seek to make others believe it if they did not wish to do so. the dreadful confirmation would come soon enough. "take them away, williams," said the lieutenant to the sergeant, "and give them food and drink. they look as if they needed it." the sergeant was kindly, and he asked dick and albert many questions as he led them to a point farther back on the bluff beyond the rifle shots of the sioux, who were now firing heavily in the darkness upon reno's command, the troops driven off from the far side of the town, and the commands of benteen and mcdougall, which had formed a junction with reno. it was evident that he believed all dick told him, and his eyes became heavy with sorrow. "poor lads!" he murmured. "and so many of them gone!" he took them to a fire, and here both of them collapsed completely. but with stimulants, good food, and water they recovered in an hour, and then dick was asked to tell again what he had seen to the chief officers. they listened attentively, but dick knew that they, too, went away incredulous. throughout the talk dick and albert heard the sound of pick and spade as the men continued to throw up the earthworks, and there was an incessant patter of rifle fire as the sioux crept forward in the darkness, firing from every tree, or rock, or hillock, and keeping up a frightful yelling, half of menace and half of triumph. but their bullets whistled mostly overhead, and once, when they made a great rush, they were quickly driven back with great loss. troops on a bluff behind earthworks were a hard nut even for an overwhelming force to crack. dick and albert fell asleep on the ground from sheer exhaustion, but dick did not sleep long. he was awakened by a fresh burst of firing, and saw that it was still dark. he did not sleep again that night, although albert failed to awake, and, asking for a rifle, bore a part in the defense. the troops, having made a forced march with scant supplies, suffered greatly from thirst, but volunteers, taking buckets, slipped down to the river, at the imminent risk of torture and death, and brought them back filled for their comrades. it was done more than a dozen times, and dick himself was one of the heroes, which pleased sergeant williams greatly. "you're the right stuff, my boy," he said, clapping him on the shoulder, "though you ought to be asleep and resting." "i couldn't sleep long," replied dick. "i think my nerves have been upset so much that i won't feel just right again for months." nevertheless he bore a valiant part in the defense, besides risking his life to obtain the water, and won high praise from many besides his stanch friend, sergeant williams. it was well that the troops had thrown up the earthwork, as the sioux, flushed with their great victory in the afternoon, hung on the flanks of the bluffs and kept up a continuous rifle fire. there was light enough for sharpshooting, and more than one soldier who incautiously raised his head above the earthwork was slain. toward morning the sioux made another great rush. there had been a lull in the firing just when the night was darker than usual and many little black clouds were floating up from the southwest. dick was oppressed by the silence. he remembered the phases of the battle in the afternoon, and he felt that it portended some great effort by the sioux. he peeped carefully over the earthwork and studied the trees, bushes, and hillocks below. he saw nothing there, but it seemed to him that he could actually feel the presence of the sioux. "look out for 'em," he said to sergeant williams. "i think they're going to make a rush." "i think it, too," replied the veteran. "i've learnt something of their cunnin' since i've been out here on the plains." five minutes later the sioux sprang from their ambush and rushed forward, hoping to surprise enemies who had grown careless. but they were met by a withering fire that drove them headlong to cover again. nevertheless they kept up the siege throughout all the following day and night, firing incessantly from ambush, and at times giving forth whoops full of taunt and menace. dick was able to sleep a little during the day, and gradually his nerves became more steady. albert also took a part in the defense, and, like dick, he won many friends. the day was a long and heavy one. the fortified camp was filled with the gloomiest apprehensions. the officers still refused to believe all of dick's story, that custer and every man of his command had perished at the hands of the sioux. they were yet hopeful that his eyes had deceived him, a thing which could happen amid so much fire, and smoke, and excitement, and that only a part of custer's force had fallen. yet neither custer nor any of his men returned; there was no sign of them anywhere, and below the bluffs the sioux gave forth taunting shouts and flaunted terrible trophies. dick and albert sat together about twilight before one of the camp fires, and dick's face showed that he shared the gloom of those around him. "what are you expecting, dick?" asked albert, who read his countenance. "nothing in particular," replied dick; "but i'm hoping that help will come soon. i've heard from the men that general gibbon is out on the plain with a strong force, and we need him bad. we're short of both water and food, and we'll soon be short of ammunition. custer fell, i think, because his ammunition gave out, and if ours gives out the same thing will happen to us. it's no use trying to conceal it." "then we'll pray for gibbon," said albert. the second night passed like the first, to the accompaniment of shouts and shots, the incessant sharpshooting of the sioux, and an occasional rush that was always driven back. but it was terribly exhausting. the men were growing irritable and nervous under such a siege, and the anxiety in the camp increased. dick, after a good sleep, was up early on the morning of the second day, and, like others, he looked out over the plain in the hope that he might see gibbon coming. he looked all around the circle of the horizon and saw only distant lodges in the valley and sioux warriors. but dick had uncommonly good ears, trained further by two years of wild life, and he heard something, a new note in the common life of the morning. he listened with the utmost attention, and heard it again. he had heard the same sound on the terrible day when custer galloped into the valley--the mellow, pealing note of a trumpet, but now very faint and far. "they're coming!" he said to sergeant williams joyfully. "i hear the sound of a trumpet out on the plain!" "i don't," said the sergeant. "it's your hopes that are deceivin' you. no, by jove, i think i do hear it! yes, there it is! they're comin'! they're comin'!" the whole camp burst into a joyous cheer, and although they did not hear the trumpet again for some time, the belief that help was at hand became a certainty when they saw hurried movements among the sioux in the valley and the sudden upspringing of flames at many points. "they're goin' to retreat," said the veteran sergeant williams, "an' they're burnin' their village behind 'em." a little later the army of gibbon, with infantry and artillery, showed over the plain, and was welcomed with cheers that came from the heart. uniting with the commands on the fortified bluff, gibbon now had a powerful force, and he advanced cautiously into the valley of the little big horn and directly upon the indian village. but the sioux were gone northward, taking with them their arms, ammunition, and all movable equipment, and the lodges that they left behind were burning. dick led the force to the field of battle, and all his terrible story was confirmed. there were hundreds of brave men, custer and every one of his officers among them, lay, most of them mutilated, but all with their backs to the earth. the army spent the day burying the dead, and then began the pursuit of the sioux. dick and albert went with them, fighting as scouts and skirmishers. they were willing, for the present, to let their furs remain hidden in their lost valley until they could gain a more definite idea of its location, and until the dangerous sioux were driven far to the northward. as the armies grew larger the sioux forces, despite the skill and courage of their leaders, were continually beaten. their great victory on the little big horn availed them nothing. it became evident that the last of the chiefs--and to dick and albert this was bright sun--had made the last stand for his race, and had failed. "they were doomed the day the first white man landed in america," said dick to albert, "and nothing could save them." "i suppose it's so," said albert; "but i feel sorry for bright sun, all the same." "so do i," said dick. the sioux were finally crowded against the canadian line, and sitting bull and most of the warriors fled across it for safety. but just before the crossing dick and albert bore a gallant part in a severe skirmish that began before daylight. a small sioux band, fighting in a forest with great courage and tenacity, was gradually driven back by dismounted white troopers. dick, a skirmisher on the right flank, became separated from his comrades during the fighting. he was aware that the sioux had been defeated, but, like the others, he followed in eager pursuit, wishing to drive the blow home. dick lost sight of both troopers and sioux, but he became aware of a figure in the undergrowth ahead of him, and he stalked it. the warrior, for such he was sure the man to be, was unable to continue his flight without entering an open space where he would be exposed to dick's bullet, and he stayed to meet his antagonist. there was much delicate maneuvering of the kind that must occur when lives are known to be at stake, but at last the two came within reach of each other. the sioux fired first and missed, and then dick held his enemy at the muzzle of his rifle. he was about to fire in his turn, when he saw that it was bright sun. the chief, worn and depressed, recognized dick at the same moment. "fire," he said. "i have lost and i might as well die by your hand as another." dick lowered his weapon. "i can't do it, bright sun," he said. "my brother and i owe you our lives, and i've got to give you yours. good-by." "but i am an indian," said bright sun. "i will never surrender to your people." "it is for you to say," replied dick. bright sun waved his hand in a grave and sad farewell salute and went northward. dick heard from a trapper some time later of a small band of sioux indians far up near the great slave lake, led by a chief of uncommon qualities. he was sure, from the description of this chief given by the trapper, that it was bright sun. their part in the war ended, dick and albert took for their pay a number of captured indian ponies, and turning southward found the old trail of the train that had been slaughtered. then, with the ponies, they entered their beloved valley again. no one had come in their absence. castle howard, the annex, the suburban villa, the cliff house and all their treasures were undisturbed. they carried their furs to helena, in montana, where the entire lot was sold for thirty-two thousand dollars--a great sum for two youths. "now what shall we do?" said albert when the money was paid to them. "i vote we buy united states government bonds," replied dick, "register 'em in our names, and go back to the valley to hunt and trap. of course people will find it after a while, but we may get another lot of the furs before anyone comes." "just what i'd have proposed myself," said albert. they started the next day on their ponies, with the pack ponies following, and reached their destination in due time. it was just about sunset when they descended the last slope and once more beheld their valley, stretching before them in all its beauty and splendor, still untrodden by any human footsteps save their own. "what a fine place!" exclaimed albert. "the finest in the world!" said dick. the end legends of the northwest. by h. l. gordon _author of pauline_. containing prelude--the mississippi. the feast of the virgins, a legend of the dakotas. winona, a legend of the dakotas. the legend of the falls, a legend of the dakotas. the sea-gull, the ojibwa legend of the pictured rocks of lake superior. minnetonka. * * * * * preface. i have for several years devoted many of my leisure hours to the study of the language, history, traditions, customs and superstitions of the dakotas. these indians are now commonly called the "sioux"--a name given them by the early french traders and _voyageurs_. "dakota" signifies _alliance_ or _confederation_. many separate bands, all having a common origin and speaking a common tongue, were united under this name. see "_tah-koo wah-kan_," or "_the gospel among the dakotas_," by stephen r. riggs, pp. to inc. they were, but yesterday, the occupants and owners of the fair forests and fertile prairies of minnesota--a brave, hospitable and generous people,--barbarians, indeed, but noble in their barbarism. they may be fitly called the iroquois of the west. in form and features, in language and traditions, they are distinct from all other indian tribes. when first visited by white men, and for many years afterwards, the falls of st. anthony (by them called the ha-ha) was the center of their country. they cultivated tobacco, and hunted the elk, the beaver and the bison. they were open-hearted, truthful and brave. in their wars with other tribes they seldom slew women or children, and rarely sacrificed the lives of their prisoners. for many years their chiefs and head men successfully resisted the attempts to introduce spirituous liquors among them. more than a century ago an english trader was killed at mendota, because he persisted, after repeated warnings by the chiefs, in dealing out _mini-wakan_ (devil-water) to the dakota braves. with open arms and generous hospitality they welcomed the first white men to their land; and were ever faithful in their friendship, till years of wrong and robbery, and want and insult, drove them to desperation and to war. they were barbarians, and their warfare was barbarous, but not more barbarous than the warfare of our saxon and celtic ancestors. they were ignorant and superstitious, but their condition closely resembled the condition of our british forefathers at the beginning of the christian era. macaulay says of britain, "her inhabitants, when first they became known to the tyrian mariners, were little superior to the natives of the sandwich islands." and again, "while the german princes who reigned at paris, toledo, arles and ravenna listened with reverence to the instructions of bishops, adored the relics of martyrs, and took part eagerly in disputes touching the nicene theology, the rulers of wessex and mercia were still performing savage rites in the temples of thor and woden." the day of the dakotas is done. the degenerate remnants of that once powerful and warlike people still linger around the forts and agencies of the northwest, or chase the caribou and the bison on the banks of the sascatchewan, but the dakotas of old are no more. the brilliant defeat of custer, by sitting bull and his braves, was their last grand rally against the resistless march of the sons of the saxons and the celts. the plow-shares of a superior race are fast leveling the sacred mounds of their dead. but yesterday, the shores of our lakes, and our rivers, were dotted with their tepees. their light canoes glided over our waters, and their hunters chased the deer and the buffalo on the sites of our cities. to-day, they are not. let us do justice to their memory, for there was much that was noble in their natures. in the following dakota legends i have endeavored to faithfully represent many of the customs and superstitions, and some of the traditions, of that people. i have taken very little "poetic license" with their traditions; none, whatever, with their customs and superstitions. in my studies for these legends i have been greatly aided by rev. s. r. riggs, author of the grammar and dictionary of the dakota language, "tah-koo wah-kan," &c., and for many years a missionary among the dakotas. he has patiently answered my numerous inquiries and given me valuable information. i am also indebted to gen. h. h. sibley, one of the earliest american traders among them, and to rev. s. w. pond, of shakopee, one of the first protestant missionaries to these people, and himself the author of poetical versions of some of their principal legends; to mrs. eastman's "dacotah." and last, but not least, to the rev. e. d. neill, whose admirable "history of minnesota" so fully and faithfully presents almost all that is known of the history, traditions, customs, manners and superstitions of the dakotas. in _winona_ i have "tried my hand" on hexameter verse. with what success, i leave to those who are better able to judge than i. if i have failed, i have but added another failure to the numerous vain attempts to naturalize hexameter verse in the english language. the earl of derby, in the preface to his translation of the iliad, calls it "that pestilent heresy of the so-called english hexameter; a metre wholly repugnant to the genius of our language; which can only be pressed into the service by a violation of every rule of prosody." lord kames, in his "elements of criticism." says, "many attempts have been made to introduce hexameter verse into the living languages, but without success. the english language, i am inclined to think, is not susceptible of this melody, and my reasons are these: first, the polysyllables in latin and greek are finely diversified by long and short syllables, a circumstance that qualifies them for the melody of hexameter verse: ours are extremely ill qualified for that service, because they super-abound in short syllables. secondly, the bulk of our monosyllables are arbitrary with regard to length, which is an unlucky circumstance in hexameter. * * * in latin and greek hexameter invariable sounds direct and ascertain the melody. english hexameter would be destitute of melody, unless by artful pronunciation; because of necessity the bulk of its sounds must be arbitrary. the pronunciation is easy in a simple movement of alternate long and short syllables; but would be perplexing and unpleasant in the diversified movement of hexameter verse." beautiful as is the _evangeline_ of longfellow, his hexameter lines are sometimes hard to scan, and often grate harshly on the ear. he is frequently forced to divide a word by the central or pivotal pause of the line, and sometimes to make a pause in the sense where the rhythm forbids it. take for example some of the opening lines of _evangeline_: "this is the forest prime|val. the murmuring pines and the hemlocks, bearded with moss, and in gar|ments green, indistinct in the twilight. loud from its rocky cav|erns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean speaks, and in accents discon|solate answers the wail of the forest. lay in the fruitful val|ley. vast meadows stretched to the eastward." again, in order to comply with the greek and latin rule of beginning each line with a _long_ syllable, he is compelled to emphasize words contrary to the sense. examples: _in_ the acadian land, on the shores of the basin of minas _some_what apart from the village, and nearer the basin of minas. _but_ a celestial bright|ness--a more etherial beauty. _and_ the retreating sun the sign of the scorpion enters. _in_-doors, warmed by the wide-|mouthed fireplace idly the farmer, _four_ times the sun had ris|en and set; and now on the fifth day, "greek and latin hexameter lines, as to time, are all of the same length, being equivalent to the time taken in pronouncing twelve long syllables, or twenty-four short ones. an hexameter line may consist of seventeen syllables, and when regular and not spondiac, it never has fewer than thirteen: whence it follows that where the syllables are many, the plurality must be short; where few, the plurality must be long. this line is susceptible of much variety as to the succession of long and short syllables. it is however subject to laws that confine its variety within certain limits. * * * st. the line must always commence with a _long_ syllable, and close with two long preceded by two short. d. more than two short syllables can never be found together, nor _fewer_ than two. d. two long syllables which have been preceded by two short can not also be followed by two short. these few rules fulfill all the conditions of an hexameter line with relation to order of arrangement."--_lord kames, "elements of criticism."_ one who attempts to write english hexameter, under the greek and latin rules, will speedily be made aware that the english language "super-abounds in short syllables." why then should we rigidly adhere to rules repugnant to the genius of our language, if they can be modified so as to adapt the sonorous hexameter to the structure of our mother-tongue? can they be so modified? i have attempted it. i venture to change them as follows: st. by beginning each line with a _short_ syllable instead of a long one. and it will be seen that i often begin a line with two short syllables. d. by often using one short syllable unaccompanied by another. d. i have increased the average number of syllables in the line to better adapt it to our super-abundance of short syllables. th. in _winona_ i have introduced a rhyme at the pivotal pause of the line, not because my hexameter requires it, but because i think it increases the melody, and more emphatically marks the central pause. i am not quite sure that, in a long poem, the rhyme is not detrimental. that depends greatly, however, upon the skill with which it is handled. surely the same hexameter can be written as smoothly and more vigorously without rhyme. rhyme adds greatly to the labor of composition; it rarely assists, but often hinders, the expression of the sense which the author would convey. at times i have been on the point of abandoning it in despair, but after having been under the hammer and the file, at intervals for the last four years, _winona_ is at last _done_, if not finished. it will be observed that i have slightly changed the length and the rhythm of the old hexameter line, but it is still hexameter, and, i think, improved. i am not afraid of intelligent criticism. i invoke it, and will endeavor to profit by it in the future as in the past. the reception of my _pauline_ at home and abroad has been so flattering that i have been encouraged to attempt something better. that was my first real effort and full of crudities but if the legends are received by our best critics as well as _pauline_ was received i shall be well pleased with my efforts. after much thought i have decided to publish the first edition of my _legends_ here at home: st because they pertain particularly to the lakes and rivers to the fair forests and fertile fields of our own minnesota and ought to be appreciated here if anywhere. d because many of our people are competent to judge whether my representations of dakota customs, life, traditions, and superstitions are correct or not and at the same time the reading public of the north west is as intelligent and discriminating as that of any other portion of our country. if these _legends_ be appreciated and approved by our own people who are familiar with the scenery described and more or less, with the customs, traditions and superstitions of the dakotas, and if beyond that these poems shall stand the test of candid criticism i may give them a wider publication. h. l. gordon. minneapolis. june , . [illustration: view of the mississippi at fort snelling] prelude. the mississippi. onward rolls the royal river, proudly sweeping to the sea, dark and deep and grand, forever wrapt in myth and mystery. lo he laughs along the highlands, leaping o'er the granite walls: lo he sleeps among the islands, where the loon her lover calls. still like some huge monster winding downward through the prairie plains, seeking rest but never finding, till the tropic gulf he gains. in his mighty arms he claspeth now an empire broad and grand; in his left hand lo he graspeth leagues of fen and forest land; in his right the mighty mountains, hoary with eternal snow. where a thousand foaming fountains singing seek the plains below. fields of corn and feet of cities lo the mighty river laves, where the saxon sings his ditties o'er the swarthy warriors' graves. aye, before the birth, of moses--ere the pyramids were piled-- all his banks were red with roses from the sea to nor'lands wild, and from forest, fen and meadows, in the deserts of the north, elk and bison stalked like shadows, and the tawny tribes came forth; deeds of death and deeds of daring on his leafy banks were done-- women loved and men went warring--ere the siege of troy begun. where his wayward waters thundered, roaring o'er the rocky walls, dusky hunters sat and wondered, listening to the spirits' calls. "ha-ha!" [ ] cried the warrior greeting from afar the cataract's roar; "ha-ha!" rolled the answer, beating down the rock-ribbed leagues of shore. now, alas, the bow and quiver and the dusky braves have fled, and the sullen, shackled river drives the droning mills instead. where the war whoop rose, and, after, women wailed their warriors slain, list the saxon's silvery laughter, and his humming hives of gain. swiftly sped the tawny runner o'er the pathless prairies then, now the iron-reindeer sooner carries weal or woe to men. on thy bosom, royal river, silent sped the birch canoe, bearing brave with bow and quiver, on his way to war or woo; now with flaunting flags and streamers--mighty monsters of the deep-- lo the puffing, panting steamers, through thy foaming waters sweep; and behold the grain-fields golden, where the bison grazed of eld; see the fanes of forests olden by the ruthless saxon felled,-- pluméd pines that spread their shadows ere columbus spread his sails. firs that fringed the mossy meadows ere the mayflower braved the gales, iron oaks that nourished bruin while the vikings roamed the main, crashing fall in broken ruin for the greedy marts of gain. still forever and forever rolls the restless river on, slumbering oft but ceasing never, while the circling centuries run. in his palm the lakelet lingers, in his hair the brooklets hide, grasped within his thousand fingers lies a continent fair and wide,-- yea, a mighty empire swarming with its millions like the bees, delving, drudging, striving, storming, all their lives, for golden ease. still, methinks, the dusky shadows of the days that are no more stalk around the lakes and meadows, haunting oft the wonted shore,-- hunters from the land of spirits seek the bison and the deer, where the saxon now inherits golden field and silver mere; and beside the mound where burried lies the dark-eyed maid he loves, some tall warrior, wan and wearied, in the misty moonlight moves. see--he stands erect and lingers--stoic still, but loth to go-- clutching in his tawny fingers feathered shaft and polished bow. never wail or moan he utters and no tear is on his face, but a warrior's curse he mutters on the crafty saxon race. o thou dark, mysterious river, speak and tell thy tales to me; seal not up thy lips forever--veiled in mist and mystery. i will sit and lowly listen at the phantom-haunted falls, where thy waters foam and glisten o'er the rugged, rocky walls. till some spirit of the olden, mystic, weird, romantic days shall emerge and pour her golden tales and legends through my lays. then again the elk and bison on thy grassy banks shall feed, and along the low horizon shall the pluméd hunter speed; then again on lake and river shall the silent birch canoe bear the brave with bow and quiver on his way to war or woo: then the beaver on the meadow shall rebuild his broken wall, and the wolf shall chase his shadow and his mate the panther call. from the prairies and the regions where the pine-plumed forest grows shall arise the tawny legions with their lances and their bows; and again the shouts of battle shall resound along the plain, bows shall twang and quivers rattle, women wail their warriors slain. the feast of the virgins. [ ] a legend of the dakotas. (in pronouncing dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah"--"e" the sound of "a"--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo," sound "ee" as in english. the numerals, , , etc. refer to explanatory notes in the appendix.) the game of ball. [ ] clear was the sky as a silver shield; the bright sun blazed on the frozen field. on icebound river and white robed prairie the diamonds gleamed in the flame of noon; but cold and keen were the breezes airy wa-zi-ya [ ] blew from his icy throne. on the solid ice of the silent river the bounds are marked, and a splendid prize, a robe of black fox lined with beaver-- is hung in view of the eager eyes; and fifty merry dakota maidens, the fairest moulded of woman kind, are gathered in groups on the level ice. they look on the robe and its beauty gladdens, and maddens their hearts for the splendid prize. lo the rounded ankles and raven hair that floats at will on the wanton wind, and the round brown arms to the breezes bare, and breasts like the mounds where the waters meet, [ ] and feet as fleet as the red deer's feet, and faces that glow like the full, round moon when she laughs in the luminous skies of june. the leaders are chosen and swiftly divide the opposing parties on either side. wiwâstè [ ] is chief of a nimble band. the star-eyed daughter of little crow; [ ] and the leader chosen to hold command of the band adverse is a haughty foe-- the dusky, impetuous hârpstinà, [ ] the queenly cousin of wapasa. [ ] kapóza's chief and his tawny hunters are gathered to witness the queenly game. the ball is thrown and a bat encounters, and away it flies with a loud acclaim. swift are the maidens that follow after, and swiftly it flies for the farther bound: and long and loud are the peals of laughter, as some fair runner is flung to ground; while backward and forward, and to and fro, the maidens contend on the trampled snow. with loud "ihó!--itó!--ihó!" [ ] and waving the beautiful prize anon, the dusky warriors cheer them on. and often the limits are almost passed, as the swift ball flies and returns. at last it leaps the line at a single bound from the fair wiwâstè's sturdy stroke, like a fawn that flies from the baying hound. wild were the shouts, and they rolled and broke on the beetling bluffs and the hills profound, an echoing, jubilant sea of sound. wakâwa, the chief, and the loud acclaim announced the end of the well-fought game, and the fair wiwâstè was victor crowned. dark was the visage of hârpstinà when the robe was laid at her rival's feet, and merry maidens and warriors saw her flashing eyes and her look of hate, as she turned to wakâwa, the chief, and said:-- "the game was mine were it fairly played. i was stunned by a blow on my bended head, as i snatched the ball from slippery ground not half a fling from wiwâstè's bound. and the cheat--behold her! for there she stands with the prize that is mine in her treacherous hands. the fawn may fly, but the wolf is fleet; the fox creeps sly on magâ's [ ] retreat; and a woman's revenge--it is swift and sweet." she turned to her lodge, but a roar of laughter and merry mockery followed after. little they heeded the words she said, little they cared for her haughty tread, for maidens and warriors and chieftain knew that her lips were false and her charge untrue. wiwâstè, the fairest dakota maiden, the sweet-faced daughter of little crow, to her teepee [ ] turned with her trophy laden-- the black robe trailing the virgin snow. beloved was she by her princely father, beloved was she by the young and old, by merry maidens and many a mother, and many a warrior bronzed and bold. for her face was as fair as a beautiful dream, and her voice like the song of the mountain stream; and her eyes like the stars when they glow and gleam. through the somber pines of the nor'land wold, when the winds of winter are keen and cold. mah-pí-ya dú-ta [ ] the tall red cloud, a hunter swift and a warrior proud, with many a scar and many a feather, was a suitor bold and a lover fond. long had he courted wiwâstè's father, long had he sued for the maiden's hand. aye, brave and proud was the tall red cloud, a peerless son of a giant race, and the eyes of the panther were set in his face. he strode like a stag, and he stood like a pine: ten feathers he wore of the great wanmdeè; [ ] with crimsoned quills of the porcupine his leggins were worked to his brawny knee. the bow he bent was a giant's bow; the swift red elk could he overtake, and the necklace that girdled his brawny neck was the polished claws of the great mató [ ] he grappled and slew in the northern snow. wiwâstè looked on the warrior tall; she saw he was brawny and brave and great, but the eyes of the panther she could but hate, and a brave hóhé [ ] loved she better than all. loved was mahpíya by hârpstinà, but the warrior she never could charm or draw; and bitter indeed was her secret hate for the maiden she reckoned so fortunate. heyÓka wacÍpee [ ]--the giant's dance. the night-sun [ ] sails in his gold canoe, the spirits [ ] walk in the realms of air with their glowing faces and flaming hair, and the shrill, chill winds o'er the prairies blow. in the tee [ ] of the council the virgins light the virgin-fire [ ] for the feast to-night; for the sons of heyóka will celebrate the sacred dance to the giant great. the kettle boils on the blazing fire, and the flesh is done to the chief's desire. with his stoic face to sacred east, [ ] he takes his seat at the giant's feast. for the feast of heyóka [ ] the braves are dressed with crowns from the bark of the white-birch trees, and new skin leggins that reach the knees; with robes of the bison and swarthy bear, and eagle-plumes in their coal-black hair, and marvelous rings in their tawny ears, which were pierced with the points of their shining spears. to honor heyóka, wakâwa lifts his fuming pipe from the red-stone quarry. [ ] the warriors follow. the white cloud drifts from the council-lodge to the welkin starry, like a fog at morn on the fir-clad hill, when the meadows are damp and the winds are still. they dance to the tune of their wild "ha-ha!" a warrior's shout and a raven's caw-- circling the pot and the blaming fire to the tom-tom's bray and the rude bassoon; round and round to their heart's desire, and ever the same wild chant and tune-- a warrior's shout and a raven's caw-- "ha-ha,--ha-ha,--ha-ha,--ha!" they crouch, they leap, and their burning eyes flash fierce in the light of the flaming fire, as fiercer and fiercer and higher and higher the rude, wild notes of their chant arise. they cease, they sit, and the curling smoke ascends again from their polished pipes, and upward curls from their swarthy lips to the god whose favor their hearts invoke. then tall wakâwa arose and said: "brave warriors, listen, and give due heed. great is heyóka, the magical god; he can walk on the air; he can float on the flood. he's a worker of magic and wonderful wise; he cries when he laughs and he laughs when he cries; he sweats when he's cold, and he shivers when hot, and the water is cold in his boiling pot. he hides in the earth and he walks in disguise, but he loves the brave and their sacrifice. we are sons of heyóka. the giant commands in the boiling water to thrust our hands; and the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire heyóka will crown with his hearts desire." they thrust their hands in the boiling pot; they swallow the bison meat steaming hot, not a wince on their stoical faces bold. for the meat and the water, they say, are cold, and great is heyóka and wonderful wise; he floats on the flood and he walks in the skies, and ever appears in a strange disguise; but he loves the brave and their sacrifice; and the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire heyóka will crown with his heart's desire. proud was the chief of his warriors proud, the sinewy sons of the giant's race; but the bravest of all was the tall red cloud; the eyes of the panther were set in his face; he strode like a stag and he stood like a pine; ten feathers he wore at the great wanmdeé; [ ] with crimsoned quills of the porcupine his leggins were worked to his brawny knee. blood-red were the stripes on his swarthy cheek, and the necklace that girdled his brawny neck was the polished claws of the great mató [ ] he grappled and slew in the northern snow. proud red cloud turned to the braves and said, as he shook the plumes on his haughty head: "ho! the warrior that scorneth the foe and fire heyóka will crown with his heart's desire!" he snatched from the embers a red-hot brand, and held it aloft in his naked hand. he stood like a statue in bronze or stone,-- not a muscle moved, and the braves looked on. he turned to the chieftain,--"i scorn the fire,-- ten feathers i wear of the great wanmdeé; then grant me, wakâwa, my heart's desire; let the sunlight shine in my lonely tee. [ ] i laugh at red death and i laugh at red fire; brave red cloud is only afraid of fear; but wiwâstè is fair to his heart and dear; then grant him, wakâwa, his heart's desire." the warriors applauded with loud "ho! ho!" [ ] and he flung the brand to the drifting snow. three times wakâwa puffed forth the smoke from his silent lips; then he slowly spoke: "mâhpíya is strong as the stout-armed oak that stands on the bluff by the windy plain, and laughs at the roar of the hurricane. he has slain the foe and the great mató with his hissing arrow and deadly stroke. my heart is swift but my tongue is slow. let the warrior come to my lodge and smoke; he may bring the gifts; [ ] but the timid doe may fly from the hunter and say him no." wiwâstè sat late in the lodge alone, her dark eyes bent on the glowing fire. she heard not the wild winds shrill and moan; she heard not the tall elms toss and groan; her face was lit like the harvest moon; for her thoughts flew far to her heart's desire. far away in the land of the hóhé [ ] dwelt the warrior she held in her secret heart; but little he dreamed of the pain she felt, for she hid her love with a maiden's art. not a tear she shed, not a word she said, when the fair young chief from the lodge departed; but she sat on the mound when the day was dead, and gazed at the full moon mellow hearted. fair was the chief as the morning-star; his eyes were mild and his words were low, but his heart was stouter than lance or bow; and her young heart flew to her love afar o'er his trail long covered with drifted snow. but she heard a warrior's stealthy tread, and the tall wakâwa appeared, and said-- "is wiwâstè afraid of the spirit dread that fires the sky in the fatal north? [ ] behold the mysterious lights. come forth some evil threatens,--some danger nears, for the skies are pierced with the burning spears." the warriors rally beneath the moon; they shoot their shafts at the evil spirit. the spirit is slain and the flame is gone, and his blood lies red on the snow fields near it. but again from the dead will the spirit rise, and flash his spears in the northern skies. then the chief and the queenly wiwâstè stood alone in the moon-lit solitude, and she was silent and he was grave. "and fears not my daughter the evil spirit? the strongest warriors and bravest fear it the burning spears are an evil omen; they threaten the wrath of a wicked woman, or a treacherous foe; but my warriors brave, when danger nears, or the foe appears, are a cloud of arrows,--a grove of spears." "my father," she said, and her words were low, "why should i fear? for i soon will go to the broad, blue lodge in the spirit land, where my dark eyed mother went long ago, and my dear twin sisters walk hand in hand. my father, listen,--my words are true," and sad was her voice as the whippowil when she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill, "wiwâstè lingers alone with you, the rest are sleeping on yonder hill,-- save one--and he an undutiful son,-- and you, my father, will sit alone when sisóka [ ] sings and the snow is gone. i sat, when the maple leaves were red, by the foaming falls of the haunted river; the night sun was walking above my head, and the arrows shone in his burnished quiver; and the winds were hushed and the hour was dread with the walking ghosts of the silent dead. i heard the voice of the water-fairy; [ ] i saw her form in the moon-lit mist, as she sat on a stone with her burden weary, by the foaming eddies of amethyst. and robed in her mantle of mist the sprite her low wail poured on the silent night. then the spirit spake, and the floods were still-- they hushed and listened to what she said, and hushed was the plaint of the whippowil in the silver-birches above her head: 'wiwâstè,--the prairies are green and fair, when the robin sings and the whippowil; but the land of the spirits is fairer still, for the winds of winter blow never there; and forever the songs of the whippowils and the robins are heard on the leafy hills. thy mother looks from her lodge above,-- her fair face shines in the sky afar, and the eyes of thy sisters are bright with love, as they peep from the tee of the mother-star. to her happy lodge in the spirit-land she beckons wiwâstè with shining hand.' "my father,--my father, her words were true; and the death of wiwâstè will rest on you. you have pledged me as wife to the tall red cloud; you will take the gifts of the warrior proud; but i, wakâwa,--i answer--never! i will stain your knife in my heart's red blood, i will plunge and sink in the sullen river, ere i will be wife to the fierce red cloud!" "wiwâstè," he said, and his voice was low, "let it be as you will, for wakâwa's tongue has spoken no promise;--his lips are slow, and the love of a father is deep and strong. be happy, micúnksee [ ], the flames are gone,-- they flash no more in the northern sky. see the smile on the face of the watching moon; no more will the fatal red arrows fly; for the singing shafts of my warriors sped to the bad spirit's bosom and laid him dead, and his blood on the snow of the north lies red. go,--sleep in the robe that you won to-day, and dream of your hunter--the brave chaskè." light was her heart as she turned away; it sang like the lark in the skies of may. the round moon laughed, but a lone red star, [ ] as she turned to the teepee and entered in, fell flashing and swift in the sky afar, like the polished point of a javelin. nor chief nor daughter the shadow saw of the crouching listener--hârpstinà. wiwâstè, wrapped in her robe and sleep heard not the storm-sprites wail and weep, as they rode on the winds in the frosty air; but she heard the voice of her hunter fair; for a shadowy spirit with fairy fingers the curtains drew from the land of dreams; and lo in her teepee her lover lingers; the light of love in his dark eye beams, and his voice is the music of mountain streams. and then with her round, brown arms she pressed his phantom form to her throbbing breast, and whispered the name, in her happy sleep, of her hóhé hunter so fair and far. and then she saw in her dreams the deep where the spirit wailed, and a falling star; then stealthily crouching under the trees, by the light of the moon, the kan-ó-ti-dan, [ ] the little, wizened, mysterious man, with his long locks tossed by the moaning breeze. then a flap of wings, like a thunder-bird, [ ] and a wailing spirit the sleeper heard; and lo, through the mists of the moon, she saw the hateful visage of hârpstinà. but waking she murmured--"and what are these-- the flap of wings and the falling star, the wailing spirit that's never at ease, the little man crouching under the trees, and the hateful visage of hârpstinà? my dreams are like feathers that float on the breeze, and none can tell what the omens are-- save the beautiful dream of my love afar in the happy land of the tall hóhé [ ]-- my beautiful hunter--my brave chaskè." "ta-tânka! ta-tânka!" [ ] the hunters cried, with a joyous shout at the break of dawn; and darkly lined on the white hill-side, a herd of bison went marching on through the drifted snow like a caravan. swift to their ponies the hunters sped, and dashed away on the hurried chase. the wild steeds scented the game ahead, and sprang like hounds to the eager race. but the brawny bulls in the swarthy van turned their polished horns to the charging foes, and reckless rider and fleet foot-man were held at bay in the drifted snows, while the bellowing herd o'er the hill-tops ran, like the frightened beasts of a caravan on the sahara's sands when the simoon blows. sharp were the twangs of the hunters' bows, and swift and humming the arrows sped, till ten huge bulls on the bloody snows lay pierced with arrows and dumb and dead. but the chief with the flankers had gained the rear, and flew on the trail of the flying herd. the shouts of the riders rang loud and clear, as their frothing steeds to the chase they spurred. and now like the roar of an avalanche rolls the sullen wrath of the maddened bulls. they charge on the riders and runners stanch, and a dying steed in the snow-drift rolls, while the rider, flung to the frozen ground escapes the horns by a panther's bound. but the raging monsters are held at bay, while the flankers dash on the swarthy rout. with lance and arrow they slay and slay; and the welkin rings to the gladsome shout-- to the loud inâs and the wild ihós, [ ]-- and dark and dead, on the bloody snows, lie the swarthy heaps of the buffaloes. all snug in the teepee wiwâstè lay, all wrapped in her robe, at the dawn of day,-- all snug and warm from the wind and snow, while the hunters followed the buffalo. her dreams and her slumber their wild shouts broke; the chase was afoot when the maid awoke; she heard the twangs of the hunter's bows, and the bellowing bulls and the loud ihós, and she murmured--"my hunter is far away in the happy land of the tall hóhé-- my beautiful hunter, my brave chaskè; but the robins will come and my warrior too, and wiwâstè will find her a way to woo." and long she lay in a reverie, and dreamed, wide-awake, of her brave chaskè, till a trampling of feet on the crispy snow she heard, and the murmur of voices low;-- then the hunters' greeting--ihó! ihó! and behold, in the blaze of the risen day, with the hunters that followed the buffalo,-- came her beautiful hunter--her brave chaskè. far south has he followed the bison-trail with his band of warriors so brave and true. right glad is wakâwa his friend to hail, and wiwâstè will find her a way to woo. tall and straight as the larch tree stood the manly form of the brave young chief, and fair as the larch in its vernal leaf, when the red fawn bleats in the feathering wood. mild was his face as the morning skies, and friendship shone in his laughing eyes; but swift were his feet o'er the drifted snow on the trail of the elk or the buffalo; and his heart was stouter than lance or bow, when he heard the whoop of his enemies. five feathers he wore of the great wanmdeè, and each for the scalp of a warrior slain, when down on his camp from the northern plain, with their murder cries rode the bloody cree. [ ] but never the stain of an infant slain, or the blood of a mother that plead in vain, soiled the honored plumes of the brave hóhé. a mountain bear to his enemies, to his friends like the red fawn's dappled form; in peace, like the breeze from the summer seas; in war, like the roar of the mountain storm. his fame in the voice of the winds went forth from his hunting grounds in the happy north, and far as the shores of the great medè [ ] the nations spoke of the brave chaskè. dark was the visage of grim red cloud, fierce were the eyes of the warrior proud, when the chief to his lodge led the brave chaskè, and wiwâstè smiled on the tall hóhé. away he strode with a sullen frown, and alone in his teepee he sat him down. from the gladsome greeting of braves he stole, and wrapped himself in his gloomy soul. but the eagle eyes of the hârpstinà the clouded face of the warrior saw. softly she spoke to the sullen brave: "mah-pí-ya dúta,--his face is sad. and why is the warrior so glum and grave? for the fair wiwâstè is gay and glad. she will sit in the teepee the live-long day, and laugh with her lover--the brave hóhé. does the tall red cloud for the false one sigh? there are fairer maidens than she, and proud were their hearts to be loved by the brave red cloud. and trust not the chief with the smiling eyes; his tongue is swift, but his words are lies; and the proud mah-pí-ya will surely find that wakâwa's promise is hollow wind. last night i stood by his lodge, and lo i heard the voice of the little crow; but the fox is sly and his words were low. but i heard her answer her father--"never! i will stain your knife in my heart's red blood, i will plunge and sink in the sullen river, ere i will be wife to the fierce red cloud!" then he spake again, and his voice was low, but i heard the answer of little crow: "let it be as you will, for wakâwa's tongue has spoken no promise,--his lips are slow, and the love of a father is deep and strong." mâh-pí-ya dúta, they scorn your love, but the false chief covets the warrior's gifts. false to his promise the fox will prove, and fickle as snow in wo-kâ-da-weè, [ ] that slips into brooks when the gray cloud lifts, or the red sun looks through the ragged rifts. mah-pí-ya dúta will listen to me there are fairer birds in the bush than she, and the fairest would gladly be red cloud's wife. will the warrior sit like a girl bereft, when fairer and truer than she are left that love red cloud as they love their life? mah-pí-ya dúta will listen to me i love him well,--i have loved him long: a woman is weak, but a warrior is strong, and a lovelorn brave is a scorn to see. mah-pí-ya dúta, o listen to me! revenge is swift and revenge is strong, and sweet as the hive in the hollow tree. the proud red cloud will revenge his wrong let the brave be patient, it is not long till the leaves be green on the maple tree, and the feast of the virgins is then to be;-- the feast of the virgins is then to be!" proudly she turned from the silent brave, and went her way; but the warrior's eyes-- they flashed with the flame of a sudden fire, like the lights that gleam in the sacred cave, [ ] when the black night covers the autumn skies, and the stars from their welkin watch retire. three nights he tarried--the brave chaskè; winged were the hours and they flitted away; on the wings of wakândee [ ] they silently flew, for wiwâstè had found her a way to woo. ah, little he cared for the bison-chase; for the red lilies bloomed on the fair maid's face; ah, little he cared for the winds that blew, for wiwâstè had found her a way to woo. brown-bosomed she sat on her fox-robe dark, her ear to the tales of the brave inclined, or tripped from the tee like the song of a lark, and gathered her hair from the wanton wind. ah, little he thought of the leagues of snow he trode on the trail of the buffalo; and little he recked of the hurricanes that swept the snow from the frozen plains and piled the banks of the bloody river. [ ] his bow unstrung and forgotten hung with his beaver hood and his otter quiver; he sat spell-bound by the artless grace of her star-lit eyes and her moon-lit face. ah, little he cared for the storms that blew, for wiwâstè had found her a way to woo. when he spoke with wakâwa her sidelong eyes sought the handsome chief in his hunter-guise. wakâwa marked, and the lilies fair on her round cheeks spread to her raven hair. they feasted on rib of the bison fat, on the tongue of the ta [ ] that the hunters prize, on the savory flesh of the red hogân, [ ] on sweet tipsânna [ ] and pemmican, and the dun-brown cakes of the golden maize; and hour after hour the young chief sat, and feasted his soul on the maiden's eyes. the sweeter the moments the swifter they fly; love takes no account of the fleeting hours; he walks in a dream mid the blooming of flowers, and never awakes till the blossoms die. ah, lovers are lovers the wide world over-- in the hunter's lodge and the royal palace. sweet are the lips of his love to the lover,-- sweet as new wine in a golden chalice, from the tajo's [ ] slopes or the hills beyond; and blindly he sips from his loved one's lips, in lodge or palace the wide world over, the maddening honey of trebizond. [ ] o, what are leagues to the loving hunter, or the blinding drift of the hurricane, when it raves and roars o'er the frozen plain! he would face the storm,--he would death encounter the darling prize of his heart to gain. but his hunters chafed at the long delay, for the swarthy bison were far away, and the brave young chief from the lodge departed. he promised to come with the robin in may, with the bridal gifts for the bridal day; and the fair wiwâstè was happy-hearted, for wakâwa promised the brave chaskè. birds of a feather will flock together. the robin sings to his ruddy mate, and the chattering jays, in the winter weather, to prate and gossip will congregate; and the cawing crows on the autumn heather, like evil omens, will flock together, in extra-session, for high debate; and the lass will slip from a doting mother to hang with her lad on the garden gate. birds of a feather will flock together,-- 'tis an adage old,--it is nature's law, and sure as the pole will the needle draw, the fierce red cloud with the flaunting feather, will follow the finger of hârpstinà. the winter wanes and the south-wind blows from the summer islands legendary. the skéskas [ ] fly and the melted snows in lakelets lie on the dimpled prairie. the frost-flowers [ ] peep from their winter sleep under the snow-drifts cold and deep. to the april sun and the april showers, in field and forest, the baby flowers lift their golden faces and azure eyes; and wet with the tears of the winter-fairies, soon bloom and blossom the emerald prairies, like the fabled garden of paradise. the plum-trees, white with their bloom in may, their sweet perfume on the vernal breeze wide strew like the isles of the tropic seas, where the paroquet chatters the livelong day. but the may-days pass and the brave chaskè-- o, why does the lover so long delay? wiwâstè waits in the lonely tee, has her fair face fled from his memory? for the robin cherups his mate to please, the blue bird pipes in the poplar trees, the meadow lark warbles his jubilees, shrilling his song in the azure seas, till the welkin throbs to his melodies; and low is the hum of the humble bees, and the feast of the virgins is now to be. the feast of the virgins. the sun sails high in his azure realms; beneath the arch of the breezy elms the feast is spread by the murmuring river. with his battle spear and his bow and quiver, and eagle plumes in his ebon hair, the chief wakâwa himself is there; and round the feast in the sacred ring, [ ] sit his weaponed warriors witnessing. not a morsel of food have the virgins tasted for three long days ere the holy feast; they sat in their teepee alone and fasted, their faces turned to the sacred east. [ ] in the polished bowls lies the golden maize and the flesh of fawn on the polished trays. for the virgins the bloom of the prairies wide-- the blushing pink and the meek blue-bell, the purple plumes of the prairie's pride, [ ] the wild, uncultured asphodel, and the beautiful, blue-eyed violet that the virgins call "let-me-not-forget," in gay festoons and garlands twine with the cedar sprigs [ ] and the wildwood vine. so gaily the virgins are decked and dressed, and none but a virgin may enter there; and clad is each in a scarlet vest, and a fawn skin frock to the brown calves bare. wild rosebuds peep from their flowing hair, and a rose half-blown on the budding breast; and bright with the quills of the porcupine the moccasined feet of the maidens shine. hand in hand round the feast they dance, and sing to the notes of a rude bassoon, and never a pause or a dissonance in the merry dance or the merry tune. brown-bosomed and fair as the rising moon, when she peeps o'er the hills of the dewy east, wiwâstè sings at the virgins feast; and bright is the light in her luminous eyes; they glow like the stars in the winter skies; and the lilies that bloom in her virgin heart their golden blush to her cheeks impart-- her cheeks half hid in her midnight hair. fair is her form--as the red fawn's fair, and long is the flow of her raven hair; it falls to her knees, and it streams on the breeze like the path of a storm on the swelling seas. proud of their rites are the virgins fair, for none but a virgin may enter there. 'tis a custom of old and a sacred thing; nor rank nor beauty the warriors spare, if a tarnished maiden should enter there. and her that enters the sacred ring with a blot that is known or a secret stain the warrior who knows is bound to expose, and lead her forth from the ring again. and the word of the warrior is a sacred by law; for the virgins' feast is a sacred thing. aside with the mothers sat hârpstinà: she durst not enter the virgins' ring. round and round to the merry song the maidens dance in their gay attire. while the loud "ho-ho's" of the tawny throng their flying feet and their song inspire. they have finished the song and the sacred dance, and hand in hand to the feast advance-- to the polished bowls of the golden maize, and the sweet fawn meat in the polished trays. then up from his seat in the silent crowd rose the frowning, fierce-eyed, tall red cloud; swift was his stride as the panther's spring, when he leaps on the fawn from his cavern lair; wiwâstè he caught by her flowing hair, and dragged her forth from the sacred ring. she turned on the warrior. her eyes flashed fire; her proud lips quivered with queenly ire; her hand to the spirits she raised and said, and her sun browned cheeks were aflame with red: "i am pure!--i am pure as falling snow! great tâku-skan-skan [ ] will testify! and dares the tall coward to say me no?" but the sullen warrior made no reply. she turned to the chief with her frantic cries: "wakâwa--my father; he lies!--he lies! wiwâstè is pure as the faun unborn; lead me back to the feast, or wiwâstè dies!" but the warriors uttered a cry of scorn, and he turned his face from her pleading eyes. then the sullen warrior, the tall red cloud, looked up and spoke and his voice was loud; but he held his wrath and spoke with care: "wiwâstè is young, she is proud and fair, but she may not boast of the virgin snows. the virgins feast is a sacred thing: how durst she enter the virgins ring? the warrior would fain, but he dares not spare; she is tarnished and only the red cloud knows." she clutched her hair in her clenched hand: she stood like statue bronzed and grand: wakân-deè [ ] flashed in her fiery eyes; then, swift as the meteor cleaves the skies-- nay, swift as the fiery wakinyan's dart, [ ] she snatch the knife from the warriors belt, and plunged it clean to the polished hilt-- with deadly cry--in the villain's heart. staggering he clutched the air and fell; his life-blood smoked on the trampled sand, and dripped from the knife in the virgin's hand. then rose his kinsmen's savage yell. swift as the doe's wiwâstè's feet fled away to the forest. the hunters fleet in vain pursue, and in vain they prowl, and lurk in the forest till dawn of day. they hear the hoot of the mottled owl; they hear the were-wolf's [ ] winding howl; but the swift wiwâstè is far away. they found no trace in the forest land, they found no trail in the dew-damp grass, they found no track in the river sand, where they thought wiwâstè would surely pass. the braves returned to the troubled chief; in his lodge he sat in his silent grief. "surely," they said, "she has turned a spirit. no trail she left with her flying feet; no pathway leads to her far retreat. she flew in the air, and her wail--we could hear it, as she upward rose to the shining stars; and we heard on the river, as we stood near it, the falling drops of wiwâstè's tears." wakâwa thought of his daughter's words ere the south-wind came and the piping birds-- "my father, listen,--my words are true," and sad was her voice as the whippowil when she mourns her mate by the moon-lit rill, "wiwâstè lingers alone with you; the rest are sleeping on yonder hill-- save one--and he an undutiful son,-- and you, my father, will sit alone when sisóka [ ] sings and the snow is gone." his broad breast heaved on his troubled soul, the shadow of grief o'er his visage stole like a cloud on the face of the setting sun. "she has followed the years that are gone," he said; "the spirits the words of the witch fulfill; for i saw the ghost of my father dead, by the moon's dim light on the misty hill. he shook the plumes on his withered head, and the wind through his pale form whistled shrill. and a low, sad voice on the hill i heard. like the mournful wail of a widowed bird." then lo, as he looked from his lodge afar, he saw the glow of the evening-star; "and yonder," he said, "is wiwâstè's face; she looks from her lodge on our fading race. devoured by famine, and fraud, and war, and chased and hounded from woe to woe, as the white wolves follow the buffalo." and he named the planet the _virgin star_. [ ] "wakâwa," he muttered, "the guilt is thine! she was pure,--she was pure as the fawn unborn. o, why did i hark to the cry of scorn, or the words of the lying libertine? wakâwa, wakâwa, the guilt is thine! the springs will return with the voice of birds, but the voice of my daughter will come no more. she wakened the woods with her musical words, and the sky-lark, ashamed of his voice, forbore. she called back the years that had passed, and long i heard their voice in her happy song. her heart was the home of the sunbeam. bright poured the stream of her song on the starry night. o, why did the chief of the tall hóhé his feet from kapóza [ ] so long delay? for his father sat at my father's feast, and he at wakâwa's--an honored guest. he is dead!--he is slain on the bloody plain, by the hand of the treacherous chippeway; and the face shall i never behold again of my brave young brother--the chief chaskè. death walks like a shadow among my kin; and swift are the feet of the flying years that cover wakâwa with frost and tears, and leave their tracks on his wrinkled skin. wakâwa, the voice of the years that are gone will follow thy feet like the shadow of death, till the paths of the forest and desert lone shall forget thy footsteps. o living breath, whence art thou, and whither so soon to fly? and whence are the years? shall i overtake their flying feet in the star-lit sky? from his last long sleep will the warrior wake? will the morning break in wakâwa's tomb, as it breaks and glows in the eastern skies? is it true?--will the spirits of kinsmen come and bid the bones of the brave arise?" "wakâwa, wakâwa, for thee the years are red with blood and bitter with tears. gone,--brothers, and daughters, and wife,--all gone that are kin to wakâwa,--but one--but one-- wakínyan tanka--undutiful son! and he estranged from his fathers tee, will never return till the chief shall die. and what cares he for his father's grief? he will smile at my death,--it will make him chief. woe burns in my bosom. ho, warriors,--ho! raise the song of red war; for your chief must go to drown his grief in the blood of the foe! i shall fall. raise my mound on the sacred hill. let my warriors the wish of their chief fulfill; for my fathers sleep in the sacred ground. the autumn blasts o'er wakâwa's mound shall chase the hair of the thistle's head, and the bare armed oak o'er the silent dead. when the whirling snows from the north descend, shall wail and moan in the midnight wind. in the famine of winter the wolf shall prowl, and scratch the snow from the heap of stones, and sit in the gathering storm and howl, on the frozen mound, for wakâwa's bones. but the years that are gone shall return again. as the robin returns and the whippowil when my warriors stand on the sacred hill and remember the deeds of their brave chief slain." beneath the glow of the virgin star they raised the song of the red war dance. at the break of dawn with the bow and lance they followed the chief on the path of war. to the north--to the forests of fir and pine-- led their stealthy steps on the winding trail, till they saw the lake of the spirit [ ] shine through somber pines of the dusky dale. then they heard the hoot of the mottled owl; [ ] they heard the gray wolf's dismal howl; then shrill and sudden the war whoop rose from an hundred throats of their swarthy foes, in ambush crouched in the tangled wood. death shrieked in the twang of their deadly bows, and their hissing arrows drank brave men's blood. from rock, and thicket, and brush, and brakes, gleamed the burning eyes of the forest snakes. [ ] from brake, and thicket, and brush, and stone, the bow string hummed and the arrow hissed, and the lance of a crouching ojibway shone, or the scalp-knife gleamed in a swarthy fist. undaunted the braves of wakâwa's band jumped into the thicket with lance and knife, and grappled the chippewas hand to hand; and foe with foe, in the deadly strife, lay clutching the scalp of his foe and dead, with a tomahawk sunk in his ghastly head, or his still heart sheathing a bloody blade. like a bear in the battle wakâwa raves, and cheers the hearts of his falling braves. but a panther crouches along his track,-- he springs with a yell on wakâwa's back! the tall chief, stabbed to the heart, lies low; but his left hand clutches his deadly foe, and his red right clenches the bloody hilt of his knife in the heart of the slayer dyed. and thus was the life of wakâwa spilt, and slain and slayer lay side by side. the unscalped corpse of their honored chief his warriors snatched from the yelling pack, and homeward fled on their forest track with their bloody burden and load of grief. the spirits the words of the brave fulfill,-- wakâwa sleeps on the sacred hill, and wakínyan tânka, his son, is chief. ah, soon shall the lips of men forget wakâwa's name, and the mound of stone will speak of the dead to the winds alone, and the winds will whistle their mock-regret. the speckled cones of the scarlet berries [ ] lie red and ripe in the prairie grass. the sí-yo [ ] clucks on the emerald prairies to her infant brood. from the wild morass, on the sapphire lakelet set within it, magâ [ ] sails forth with her wee ones daily. they ride on the dimpling waters gaily, like a fleet of yachts and a man of war. the piping plover, the laughing linnet, and the swallow sail in the sunset skies. the whippowil from her cover hies, and trills her song on the amber air. anon, to her loitering mate she cries "flip, o will!--trip, o will!--skip, o will!" and her merry mate from afar replies: "flip i will,--skip i will,--trip i will;" and away on the wings of the wind he flies. and bright from her lodge in the skies afar peeps the glowing face of the virgin star. the fox pups [ ] creep from the mother's lair and leap in the light of the rising moon; and loud on the luminous moonlit lake shrill the bugle notes of the lover loon; and woods and waters and welkin break into jubilant song,--it is joyful june. but where is wiwâstè? o where is she-- the virgin avenged--the queenly queen-- the womanly woman--the heroine? has she gone to the spirits and can it be that her beautiful face is the virgin star peeping out from the door of her lodge afar, or upward sailing the silver sea. star-beaconed and lit like an avenue, in the shining stern of her gold canoe? no tidings came--nor the brave chaskè: o, why did the lover so long delay? he promised to come with the robins in may, with the bridal gifts for the bridal day; but the fair may mornings have slipped away, and where is the lover--the brave chaskè? but what of the venomous hârpstinà-- the serpent that tempted the proud red cloud, and kindled revenge in his savage soul? he paid for his crime with his false heart's blood, but his angry spirit has brought her dole; [ ] it has entered her breast and her burning head, and she raves and burns on her fevered bed. "he is dead! he is dead!" is her wailing cry. "and the blame is mine,--it was i,--it was i! i hated wiwâstè, for she was fair, and my brave was caught in her net of hair. i turned his love to a bitter hate; i nourished revenge, and i pricked his pride; till the feast of the virgins i bade him wait. he had his revenge, but he died,--he died! and the blame is mine,--it was i,--it was i! and his spirit burns me, i die,--i die!" thus, alone in her lodge and her agonies, she wails to the winds of the night, and dies. but where is wiwâstè? her swift feet flew to the somber shades of the tangled thicket. she hid in the copse like a wary cricket, and the fleetest hunters in vain pursue. seeing unseen from her hiding place, she sees them fly on the hurried chase; she sees their fierce eyes glance and dart, as they pass and peer for a track or trace, and she trembles with fear in the copse apart. lest her nest be betrayed by her throbbing heart. [illustration] weary the hours; but the sun at last went down to his lodge in the west, and fast the wings of the spirits of night were spread o'er the darkling woods and wiwâstè's head. then, slyly she slipped from her snug retreat, and guiding her course by wazíya's star, [ ] that shone through the shadowy forms afar, she northward hurried with silent feet; and long ere the sky was aflame in the east, she was leagues from the place of the fatal feast. 'twas the hoot of the owl that the hunters heard, and the scattering drops of the threat'ning shower, and the far wolf's cry to the moon preferred. their ears were their fancies,--the scene was weird, and the witches [ ] dance at the midnight hour. she leaped the brook and she swam the river; her course through the forest wiwâstè wist by the star that gleamed through the glimmering mist that fell from the dim moon's downy quiver. in her heart she spoke to her spirit-mother: "look down from your teepee, o starry spirit. the cry of wiwâstè, o mother, hear it; and touch the heart of my cruel father. he hearkened not to a virgin's words; he listened not to a daughter's wail. o give me the wings of the thunder-birds, for his were-wolves [ ] follow wiwâstè's trail; o, guide my flight to the far hóhé-- the sheltering lodge of my brave chaskè." the shadows paled in the hazy east, and the light of the kindling morn increased. the pale-faced stars fled one by one, and hid in the vast from the rising sun. from woods and waters and welkin soon fled the hovering mists of the vanished moon. the young robins chirped in their feathery beds, the loon's song shrilled like a winding horn, and the green hills lifted their dewy heads to greet the god of the rising morn. she reached the rim of the rolling prairie-- the boundless ocean of solitude; she hid in the feathery hazel wood, for her heart was sick and her feet were weary; she fain would rest, and she needed food. alone by the billowy, boundless prairies, she plucked the cones of the scarlet berries; in feathering copse and the grassy field she found the bulbs of the young tipsânna, [ ] and the sweet medó [ ] that the meadows yield. with the precious gift of his priceless manna god fed his fainting and famished child. at night again to the northward far she followed the torch of wazíya's star. for leagues away o'er the prairies green, on the billowy vast, may a man be seen, when the sun is high and the stars are low; and the sable breast of the strutting crow looms up like the form of the buffalo. the bloody river [ ] she reached at last, and boldly walked in the light of day, on the level plain of the valley vast; nor thought of the terrible chippeway. she was safe from the wolves of her father's band, but she trode on the treacherous "bloody land." and lo--from afar o'er the level plain-- as far as the sails of a ship at sea may be seen as they lift from the rolling main-- a band of warriors rode rapidly. she shadowed her eyes with her sun browned hand; all backward streamed on the wind her hair, and terror spread o'er her visage fair, as she bent her brow to the far off band. for she thought of the terrible chippeway-- the fiends that the babe and the mother slay; and yonder they came in their war-array! she hid like a grouse in the meadow-grass, and moaned--"i am lost!--i am lost! alas; and why did i fly my native land to die by the cruel ojibway's hand?" and on rode the braves. she could hear the steeds come galloping on o'er the level meads; and lowly she crouched in the waving grass, and hoped against hope that the braves would pass. they have passed, she is safe,--she is safe! ah, no, they have struck her trail and the hunters halt. like wolves on the track of the bleeding doe, that grappled breaks from the dread assault, dash the warriors wild on wiwâstè's trail. she flies,--but what can her flight avail? her feet are fleet, but the flying feet of the steeds of the prairie are fleeter still; and where can she fly for a safe retreat? but hark to the shouting:--"ihó!--ihó!" [ ] rings over the wide plain sharp and shrill. she halts, and the hunters come riding on; but the horrible fear from her heart is gone, for it is not the shout of the dreaded foe; 'tis the welcome shout of her native land! up galloped the chief of the band, and lo-- the clutched knife dropped from her trembling hand; she uttered a cry and she swooned away; for there; on his steed in the blaze of day, on the boundless prairie, so far away, with his burnished lance and his feathers gay, sat the manly form of her own chaskè! there's a mote in my eye or a blot on the page, and i cannot tell of the joyful greeting; you may take it for granted and i will engage, there were kisses and tears at the strange, glad meeting; for aye since the birth of the swift-winged years, in the desert drear, in the field of clover, in the cot, and the palace, and all the world over,-- yea, away on the stars to the ultimate spheres, the language of love to the long sought lover,-- is tears and kisses and kisses and tears. but why did the lover so long delay? and whitherward rideth the chief to-day? as he followed the trail of the buffalo, from the tees of kapóza a maiden, lo, came running in haste o'er the drifted snow. she spoke to the chief of the tall hóhé: "wiwâstè requests that the brave chaskè will abide with his band and his coming delay 'till the moon when the strawberries are ripe and red, and then will the chief and wiwâstè wed-- when the feast of the virgins is past," she said. wiwâstè's wish was her lover's law; and so his coming the chief delayed till the mid-may blossoms should bloom and fade,-- but the lying runner was hârpstinà. and now with the gifts for the bridal day and his chosen warriors he took his way, and followed his heart to his moon-faced maid, and thus was the lover so long delayed; and so as he rode with his warriors gay, on that bright and beautiful summer day, his bride he met on the trail mid-way, by the haunts of the treacherous chippeway. god arms the innocent. he is there-- in the desert vast, in the wilderness, on the bellowing sea, in the lion's lair, in the midst of battle, and everywhere. in his hand he holds with a father's care the tender hearts of the motherless; the maid and the mother in sore distress he shields with his love and his tenderness; he comforts the widowed--the comfortless, and sweetens her chalice of bitterness; he clothes the naked--the numberless,-- his charity covers their nakedness,-- and he feeds the famished and fatherless with the hand that feedeth the birds of air. let the myriad tongues of the earth confess his infinite love and his holiness; for his pity pities the pitiless, his wayward children his bounties bless, and his mercy flows to the merciless; and the countless worlds in the realms above, revolve in the light of his boundless love. and what of the lovers? you ask, i trow. she told him all ere the sun was low,-- why she fled from the feast to a safe retreat. she laid her heart at her lover's feet, and her words were tears and her lips were slow. as she sadly related the bitter tale his face was aflame and anon grew pale, and his dark eyes flashed with a brave desire, like the midnight gleam of the sacred fire. [ ] "mitâwin," [ ] he said, and his voice was low, "thy father no more is the false little crow; but the fairest plume shall wiwâstè wear of the great wanmdeè [ ] in her midnight hair. in my lodge, in the land of the tall hóhé, the robins will sing all the long summer day to the beautiful bride of the brave chaskè." aye, love is tested by stress and trial since the finger of time on the endless dial began its rounds, and the orbs to move in the boundless vast, and the sunbeams clove the chaos; but only by fate's denial are fathomed the fathomless depths of love. man is the rugged and wrinkled oak, and woman the trusting and tender vine-- that clasps and climbs till its arms entwine the brawny arms of the sturdy stoke. [ ] the dimpled babes are the flowers divine that the blessing of god on the vine and oak with their cooing and blossoming lips invoke. to the pleasant land of the brave hóhé wiwâstè rode with her proud chaskè. she ruled like a queen in his bountiful tee, and the life of the twain was a jubilee. their wee ones climbed on the father's knee, and played with his plumes of the great wanmdeè. the silken threads of the happy years they wove into beautiful robes of love that the spirits wear in the lodge above; and time from the reel of the rolling spheres his silver threads with the raven wove; but never the stain of a mother's tears soiled the shining web of their happy years. when the wrinkled mask of the years they wore, and the raven hair of their youth was gray, their love grew deeper, and more and more; for he was a lover for aye and aye, and ever her beautiful, brave chaskè. through the wrinkled mask of the hoary years to the loving eyes of the lover aye the blossom of beautiful youth appears. at last, when their locks were as white as snow, beloved and honored by all the band, they silently slipped from their lodge below, and walked together, and hand in hand, o'er the shining path [ ] to the spirit-land; where the hills and the meadows for aye and aye are clad with the verdure and flowers of may, and the unsown prairies of paradise yield the golden maize and the sweet wild rice. there ever ripe in the groves and prairies hang the purple plums and the luscious berries. and the swarthy herds of bison feed on the sun-lit slope and the waving mead; the dappled fawns from their coverts peep, and countless flocks on the waters sleep; and the silent years with their fingers trace no furrows for aye on the hunter's face. [illustration] winona. [illustration: falls of st. anthony. facsimile of the cut in carver's travels, published at london, in , from a survey and sketch made by capt. j. carver, nov. , . perpendicular fall, feet; breadth near feet.] _when the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas and the oriole piped in the maples, from my hammock, all under the trees, by the sweet scented field of red-clover, i harked to the hum of the bees, as they gathered the mead of the blossoms, and caught from their low melodies the rhythm of the song of winona_. (in pronouncing dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah,"--"e" the sound of "a,"--"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo." sound "ee" the same as in english. the numerals - etc. refer to notes in the appendix). two hundred white winters and more have fled from the face of the summer, since here on the oak shaded shore of the dark winding swift mississippi, where his foaming floods tumble and roar, on the falls and white rolling rapids, in the fair, fabled center of earth, sat the indian town of ka-thá-ga. [ ] far rolling away to the north, and the south, lay the emerald prairies, alternate with woodlands and lakes, and above them the blue vast of ether. and here where the dark river breaks into spray and the roar of the ha-ha, [ ] were gathered the bison-skin tees of the chief tawny tribe of dakotas; for here, in the blast and the breeze, flew the flag of the chief of isantees, [ ] up-raised on the stem of a lance --the feathery flag of the eagle. and here to the feast and the dance, from the prairies remote and the forests, oft gathered the out-lying bands, and honored the gods of the nation. on the islands and murmuring strands they danced to the god of the waters, unktéhee, [ ] who dwelt in the caves deep under the flood of the ha-ha; [ ] and high o'er the eddies and waves hung their offerings of fur and tobacco. [a] and here to the master of life --anpé-tu-wee, [ ] god of the heavens, chief, warrior, and maiden, and wife, burned the sacred green sprigs of the cedar. and here to the searcher-of-hearts --fierce tá-ku skan-skán, [ ] the avenger, who dwells in the uttermost parts --in the earth and the blue, starry ether, ever watching, with all-seeing eyes, the deeds of the wives and the warriors, as an osprey afar in the skies, sees the fish as they swim in the waters, oft spread they the bison-tongue feast, and singing preferred their petitions, till the day-spirit [ ] rose in the east --in the red, rosy robes of the morning, to sail o'er the sea of the skies, to his lodge in the land of the shadows, where the black winged tornadoes [b] arise --rushing loud from the mouths of their caverns. and here with a shudder they heard, flying far from his tee in the mountains, wa-kin-yan, [ ] the huge thunder-bird, --with the arrows of fire in his talons. [a] see hennepin's description of louisiana by shea pp and . parkman's discovery p. --and carver's travels, p. [b] the dakotas like the ancient romans and greeks think the home of the winds is in the caverns of the mountains, and their great thunder bird resembles in many respects the jupiter of the romans and the zeus of the greeks. the resemblance of the dakota mythology to that of the older greeks and romans is striking. two hundred white winters and more have fled from the face of the summer, since here by the cataract's roar, in the moon of the red blooming lilies, [ ] in the tee of ta-té-psin [a] was born winona --wild-rose of the prairies. like the summer sun peeping, at morn, o'er the hills was the face of winona; and here she grew up like a queen --a romping and lily-lipped laughter, and danced on the undulant green, and played in the frolicsome waters, where the foaming tide tumbles and twirls o'er the murmuring rocks in the rapids; and whiter than foam were the pearls that gleamed in the midst of her laughter. long and dark was her flowing hair flung, like the robe of the night to the breezes; and gay as the robin she sung, or the gold-breasted lark of the meadows. like the wings of the wind were her feet, and as sure as the feet of ta-tó-ka; [b] and oft like an antelope fleet o'er the hills and the prairies she bounded, lightly laughing in sport as she ran, and looking back over her shoulder, at the fleet footed maiden or man, that vainly her flying steps followed. the belle of the village was she, and the pride of the aged ta-té-psin, like a sunbeam she lighted his tee, and gladdened the heart of her father. [a] ta te--wind, psin--wild rice,--wild rice wind. [b] the mountain antelope. in the golden hued wázu-pe-weé --the moon when the wild rice is gathered; when the leaves on the tall sugar-tree are as red as the breast of the robin, and the red-oaks that border the lea are aflame with the fire of the sunset, from the wide waving fields of wild-rice --from the meadows of psin-ta-wak-pá-dan, [a] where the geese and the mallards rejoice, and grow fat on the bountiful harvest, came the hunters with saddles of moose and the flesh of the bear and the bison, and the women in birchen canoes well laden with rice from the meadows, with the tall, dusky hunters, behold, came a marvelous man or a spirit, white-faced and so wrinkled and old, and clad in the robe of the raven. unsteady his steps were and slow, and he walked with a staff in his right hand, and white as the first-falling snow were the thin locks that lay on his shoulders. like rime-covered moss hung his beard, flowing down from his face to his girdle; and wan was his aspect and weird; and often he chanted and mumbled in a strange and mysterious tongue, as he bent o'er his book in devotion. or lifted his dim eyes and sung, in a low voice, the solemn "_te deum_." or latin, or hebrew, or greek --all the same were his words to the warriors,-- all the same to the maids and the meek, wide-wondering-eyed, hazel-brown children. [a] little rice river. it bears the name of rice creek to-day and empties into the mississippi from the east, a few miles above minneapolis. father renè menard [a]--it was he, long lost to his jesuit brothers, sent forth by an holy decree to carry the cross to the heathen. in his old age abandoned to die, in the swamps, by his timid companions, he prayed to the virgin on high, and she led him forth from the forest; for angels she sent him as men --in the forms of the tawny dakotas, and they led his feet from the fen, --from the slough of despond and the desert. half-dead in a dismal morass, as they followed the red-deer they found him, in the midst of the mire and the grass, and mumbling "_te deum laudamus_." "unktómee [ ]--ho!" muttered the braves, for they deemed him the black spider-spirit that dwells in the drearisome caves, and walks on the marshes at midnight, with a flickering torch in his hand, to decoy to his den the unwary. his tongue could they not understand, but his torn hands all shriveled with famine, he stretched to the hunters and said: "he feedeth his chosen with manna; and ye are the angels of god, sent to save me from death in the desert." his famished and woe-begone face, and his tones touched the hearts of the hunters; they fed the poor father apace, and they led him away to ka-thá-ga. [a] see the account of father menard, his mission and disappearance in the wilderness, etc. neill's hist. minnesota, pp to inc. there little by little he learned the tongue of the tawny dakotas; and the heart of the good father yearned to lead them away from their idols-- their giants [ ] and dread thunder-birds --their worship of stones [ ] and the devil. "wakán-de!" [a] they answered his words, for he read from his book in the latin, lest the nazarene's holy commands by his tongue should be marred in translation; and oft with his beads in his hands, or the cross and the crucified jesus, he knelt by himself on the sands, and his dim eyes uplifted to heaven. but the braves bade him look to the east --to the silvery lodge of han-nán-na; [b] and to dance with the chiefs at the feast --at the feast of the giant heyó-ka. [ ] they frowned when the good father spurned the flesh of the dog in the kettle, and laughed when his fingers were burned in the hot, boiling pot of the giant. "the blackrobe" they called the poor priest, from the hue of his robe and his girdle; and never a game or a feast but the father must grace with his presence. his prayer book the hunters revered, --they deemed it a marvelous spirit; it spoke and the white father heard, --it interpreted visions and omens. and often they bade him to pray this marvelous spirit to answer, and tell where the sly chippeway might be ambushed and slain in his forests. for menard was the first in the land, proclaiming, like john in the desert-- "the kingdom of heaven is at hand; repent ye, and turn from your idols."-- the first of the brave brotherhood that, threading the fens and the forest, stood afar by the turbulent flood at the falls of the father of waters. [a] it is wonderful. [b] the morning. in the lodge of the stranger [a] he sat awaiting the crown of a martyr; his sad face compassion begat in the heart of the dark eyed winona. oft she came to the teepee and spoke; she brought him the tongue of the bison, sweet nuts from the hazel and oak, and flesh of the fawn and the mallard. soft hánpa [b] she made for his feet and leggins of velvety fawn-skin,-- a blanket of beaver complete, and a hood of the hide of the otter. and oft at his feet on the mat, deftly braiding the flags and the rushes, till the sun sought his teepee she sat, enchanted with what he related of the white winged ships on the sea and the teepees far over the ocean, of the love and the sweet charity of the christ and the beautiful virgin. [a] a lodge set apart for guests of the village. [b] moccasins. she listened like one in a trance when he spoke of the brave, bearded frenchmen, from the green sun-lit valleys of france to the wild hochelága [a] transplanted, oft trailing the deserts of snow in the heart of the dense huron forests, or steering the dauntless canoe through the waves of the fresh water ocean. "yea, stronger and braver are they," said the aged menard to winona, "than the head-chief, tall wazi-kuté, [ ] but their words are as soft as a maiden's; their eyes are the eyes of the swan, but their hearts are the hearts of the eagles; and the terrible máza wakán [b] ever walks, by their side like a spirit. like a thunder-bird, roaring in wrath, flinging fire from his terrible talons, it sends to their enemies death, in the flash of the fatal wakándee." [c] [a] the ottawa name for the region of the st. lawrence river. [b] "mysterious metal"--or metal having a spirit in it. this is the common name applied by the dakotas to all fire arms. [c] lightning. the autumn was past and the snow lay drifted and deep on the prairies; from his teepee of ice came the foe --came the storm-breathing god of the winter. then roared in the groves,--on the plains, --on the ice-covered lakes and the river-- the blasts of the fierce hurricanes blown abroad from the breast of wazíya. [ ] the bear cuddled down in his den, and the elk fled away to the forest; the pheasant and gray prairie-hen made their beds in the heart of the snow-drift; the bison-herds huddled and stood in the hollows and under the hill-sides; or rooted the snow for their food in the lee of the bluffs and the timber; and the mad winds that howled from the north, from the ice-covered seas of wazíya, chased the gray wolf and red fox and swarth to their dens in the hills of the forest. poor father menard,--he was ill; in his breast burned the fire of the fever; all in vain was the magical skill of wicásta wakán [ ] with his rattle; into soft child-like slumber he fell, and awoke in the land of the blessèd-- to the holy applause of "well done!" and the harps in the hands of the angels. long he carried the cross, and he won the coveted crown of a martyr. in the land of the heathen he died, meekly following the voice of his master, one mourner alone by his side --ta-té-psin's compassionate daughter. she wailed the dead father with tears, and his bones by her kindred she buried. then winter followed winter. the years sprinkled frost on the head of her father; and three weary winters she dreamed of the fearless and fair-bearded frenchmen; in her sweet sleep their swift paddles gleamed on the breast of the broad mississippi, and the eyes of the brave strangers beamed on the maid in the midst of her slumber. she lacked not admirers; the light of the lover oft burned in her teepee-- at her couch in the midst of the night, --but she never extinguished the flambeau. the son of chief wazi-kuté --a fearless and eagle plumed warrior-- long sighed for winona, and he --was the pride of the band of isántees. three times, in the night, at her bed, had the brave held the torch of the lover, [ ]and thrice had she covered her head and rejected the handsome tamdóka. [a] [a] tah-mdo-kah--literally the buck deer. 'twas summer. the merry voiced birds trilled and warbled in woodland and meadow; and abroad on the prairies the herds cropped the grass in the land of the lilies,-- and sweet was the odor of rose wide-wafted from hillside and heather; in the leaf-shaded lap of repose lay the bright, blue eyed babes of the summer; and low was the murmur of brooks and low was the laugh of the ha-ha; [ ] and asleep in the eddies and nooks lay the broods of magá [ ] and the mallard. 'twas the moon of wasúnpa. [ ] the band lay at rest in the tees at ka-thá-ga, and abroad o'er the beautiful land walked the spirits of peace and of plenty-- twin sisters, with bountiful hand, wide scatt'ring wild rice and the lilies. an-pé-tu-wee [ ] walked in the west --to his lodge in the midst of the mountains, and the war eagle flew to her nest in the oak on the isle of the spirit. [a] and now at the end of the day, by the shore of the beautiful island, [b] a score of fair maidens and gay made joy in the midst of the waters. half-robed in their dark, flowing hair, and limbed like the fair aphroditè, they played in the waters, and there they dived and they swam like the beavers,-- loud-laughing like loons on the lake when the moon is a round shield of silver, and the songs of the whippowils wake on the shore in the midst of the maples. [a] the dakotas say that for many years in olden times a war-eagle made her nest in an oak tree on spirit island--wanagi-wita just below the falls till frightened away by the advent of white men. [b] the dakotas called nicollet island "wi-ta waste"--the beautiful island. but hark!--on the river a song, --strange voices commingled in chorus; on the current a boat swept along with duluth and his hardy companions; to the stroke of their paddles they sung, and this the refrain that they chanted: "dans mon chemin j'ai recontré deux cavaliers bien monteés. lon, lon, laridon daine, lon, lon, laridon dai." "deux cavaliers bien monteés; l'un a cheval, et l'autre a pied. lon, lon, laridon daine, lon, lon, laridon dai." [a] like the red, dappled deer in the glade, alarmed by the footsteps of hunters, discovered, disordered, dismayed, the nude nymphs fled forth from the waters, and scampered away to the shade, and peered from the screen of the lindens. [a] a part of one of the favorite songs of the french _voyageurs_. a bold and and adventuresome man was duluth, and a dauntless in danger, and straight to kathága he ran, and boldly advanced to the warriors, now gathering, a cloud, on the strand, and gazing amazed on the strangers; and straightway he offered his hand unto wázi-kuté, the itáncan. to the lodge of the stranger were led duluth and his hardy companions; robes of beaver and bison were spread, and the peace pipe [ ] was smoked with the frenchman. there was dancing and feasting at night, and joy at the presents he lavished. all the maidens were wild with delight with the flaming red robes and the ribbons, with the beads and the trinkets untold, and the fair, bearded face of the giver; and glad were they all to behold the friends from the land of the sunrise. but one stood apart from the rest --the queenly and peerless winona, intently regarding the guest --hardly heeding the robes and the ribbons, whom the white chief beholding admired, and straightway he spread on her shoulders a lily-red robe and attired, with necklet and ribbons, the maiden. the red lilies bloomed in her face, and her glad eyes gave thanks to the giver, and forth from her teepee apace she brought him the robe and the missal of the father--poor renè menard; and related the tale of the "black robe." she spoke of the sacred regard he inspired in the hearts of dakotas; that she buried his bones with her kin, in the mound by the cave of the council; that she treasured and wrapt in the skin of the red-deer his robe and his prayer-book-- "till his brothers should come from the east --from the land of the far hochelága, to smoke with the braves at the feast, on the shores of the loud-laughing waters. [ ] for the "black robe" spake much of his youth and his friends in the land of the sunrise; it was then as a dream, now in truth, i behold them, and not in a vision." but more spake her blushes, i ween, and her eyes full of language unspoken, as she turned with the grace of a queen, and carried her gifts to the teepee. far away from his beautiful france --from his home in the city of lyons, a noble youth full of romance, with a norman heart big with adventure, in the new world a wanderer, by chance, duluth sought the wild huron forests. but afar by the vale of the rhone, the winding and musical river, and the vine-covered hills of the saône, the heart of the wanderer lingered,-- 'mid the vineyards and mulberry trees, and the fair fields of corn and of clover that rippled and waved in the breeze, while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms for there, where the impetuous rhone, leaping down from the switzerland mountains, and the silver-lipped soft flowing saône, meeting, kiss and commingle together, down-winding by vineyards and leas, by the orchards of fig trees and olives, to the island-gemmed, sapphire-blue seas of the glorious greeks and the romans; aye, there, on the vine covered shore, 'mid the mulberry trees and the olives, dwelt his blue-eyed and beautiful flore, with her hair like a wheat field at harvest, all rippled and tossed by the breeze, and her cheeks like the glow of the morning, far away o'er the emerald seas, ere the sun lifts his brow from the billows, or the red-clover fields when the bees, singing sip the sweet cups of the blossoms. wherever he wandered --alone in the heart of the wild huron forests, or cruising the rivers unknown to the land of the crees or dakotas-- his heart lingered still on the rhone, 'mid the mulberry-trees and the vineyards, fast-fettered and bound by the zone that girdled the robes of his darling. till the red harvest moon [ ] he remained in the vale of the swift mississippi. the esteem of the warriors he gained, and the love of the dark eyed winona. he joined in the sports and the chase; with the hunters he followed the bison, and swift were his feet in the race when the red elk they ran on the prairies. at the game of the plum-stones [ ] he played and he won from the skillfulest players; a feast to wa'tánka [ ] he made, and he danced at the feast of heyóka. [ ] with the flash and the roar of his gun he astonished the fearless dakotas; they called it the "máza wakán" --the mighty, mysterious metal. "'tis a brother," they said, "of the fire in the talons of dreadful wakínyan, [ ] when he flaps his huge wings in his ire, and shoots his red shafts at unktéhee." [ ] the itancan, [ ] tall wazí-kuté, appointed a day for the races. from the red stake that stood by his tee, on the southerly side of the ha-ha to a stake at the lake of the loons [ ] --a league and return--was the distance. on the crest of the hills red batons marked the course for the feet of the runners. they gathered from near and afar, to the races and dancing and feasting. five hundred tall warriors were there from kapóza [ ] and far off keóza; [ ] remnica, [a] too, furnished a share of the legions that thronged to the races, and a bountiful feast was prepared by the diligent hands of the women, and gaily the multitudes fared in the generous tees of kathága. the chief of the mystical clan appointed a feast to unktéhee-- the mystic "wacípee wakán" [b]-- at the end of the day and the races. a band of sworn brothers are they, and the secrets of each one are sacred. and death to the lips that betray is the doom of the swarthy avengers, and the son of tall wazí-kuté was the chief of the mystical order. [a] pronounced ray mne chah--the village of the mountains situate where red wing now stands. [b] sacred dance--the medicine dance--see description infra. on an arm of an oak hangs the prize for the swiftest and strongest of runners-- a blanket as red as the skies, when the flames sweep the plains in october. and beside it a strong, polished bow, and a quiver of iron tipped arrows, which kapóza's tall chief will bestow on the fleet-footed second that follows. a score of swift-runners are there from the several bands of the nation; and now for the race they prepare, and among them fleet-footed tamdóka. with the oil of the buck and the bear their sinewy limbs are anointed, for fleet are the feet of the deer and strong are the limbs of the bruin, and long is the course and severe for the swiftest and strongest of runners. hark!--the shouts and the braying of drums, and the babel of tongues and confusion! from his teepee the tall chieftain comes, and duluth brings a prize for the runners-- a keen hunting-knife from the seine, horn-handled and mounted with silver. the runners are ranged on the plain, and the chief waves a flag as a signal, and away like the gray wolves they fly --like the wolves on the trail of the red deer; o'er the hills and the prairie they vie, and strain their strong limbs to the utmost, while high on the hills hangs a cloud of warriors and maidens and mothers, to behold the swift runners, and loud are the cheers and the shouts of the warriors. now swift from the lake they return, o'er the emerald hills and the heather; like grey-hounds they pant and they yearn, and the leader of all is tamdóka. at his heels flies hu-pá-hu, [a] the fleet --the pride of the band of kaóza, a warrior with eagle-winged feet, but his prize is the bow and the quiver. tamdóka first reaches the post, and his are the knife and the blanket, by the mighty acclaim of the host and award of the chief and the judges. then proud was the tall warrior's stride, and haughty his look and demeanor; he boasted aloud in his pride, and he scoffed at the rest of the runners. "behold me, for i am a man! [b] my feet are as swift as the west wind. with the coons and the beavers i ran; but where is the elk or the cabri? [ ] come!--where is the hunter will dare match his feet with the feet of tamdóka? let him think of taté [c] and beware, ere he stake his last robe on the trial." "ohó! ho! hó-héca!" [d] they jeered, for they liked not the boast of the boaster; but to match him no warrior appeared, for his feet wore the wings of the west-wind. [a] the wings. [b] a favorite boast of the dakota braves. [c] the wind. [d] about equivalent to oho--aha--fudge. then forth from the side of the chief stepped duluth and he looked on the boaster; "the words of a warrior are brief, --i will run with the brave," said the frenchman; "but the feet of tamdóka are tired; abide till the cool of the sunset." all the hunters and maidens admired, for strong were the limbs of the stranger. "hiwó! ho!" [a] they shouted and loud rose the cheers of the multitude mingled; and there in the midst of the crowd stood the glad-eyed and blushing winona. [a] hurra there! now afar o'er the plains of the west walked the sun at the end of his journey, and forth came the brave and the guest, at the tap of the drum, for the trial. like a forest of larches the hordes were gathered to witness the contest; as loud is the drums were their words and they roared like the roar of the ha-ha. for some for tamdóka contend, and some for the fair, bearded stranger, and the betting runs high to the end, with the skins of the bison and beaver. a wife of tall wazi-kuté --the mother of boastful tamdóka-- brought her handsomest robe from the tee, with a vaunting and loud proclamation: she would stake her last robe on her son who, she boasted, was fleet as the cábri [ ] and the tall, tawny chieftain looked on, approving the boast of the mother. then fleet as the feet of a fawn to her lodge ran the dark eyed winona, she brought and she staked on the lawn, by the side of the robe of the boaster, the lily-red mantle duluth, with his own hands, had laid on her shoulders. "tamdóka is swift, but forsooth, the tongue of his mother is swifter," she said, and her face was aflame with the red of the rose and the lily, and loud was the roar of acclaim; but dark was the face of tamdóka. they strip for the race and prepare, --duluth in his breeches and leggins; and the brown, curling locks of his hair downward droop to his bare, brawny shoulders, and his face wears a smile debonair, as he tightens his red sash around him; but stripped to the moccasins bare, save the belt and the breech-clout of buckskin, stands the haughty tamdóka aware that the eyes of the warriors admire him; for his arms are the arms of a bear and his legs are the legs of a panther. the drum beats,--the chief waves the flag, and away on the course speed the runners, and away leads the brave like a stag, --like a hound on his track flies the frenchman; and away haste the hunters, once more, to the hills for a view to the lake-side, and the dark-swarming hill-tops, they roar with the storm of loud voices commingled. far away o'er the prairie they fly, and still in the lead is tamdóka, but the feet of his rival are nigh, and slowly he gains on the hunter. now they turn on the post at the lake, --now they run full abreast on the home-stretch; side by side they contend for the stake, for a long mile or more on the prairie. they strain like a stag and a hound, when the swift river gleams through the thicket, and the horns of the rulers resound, winding shrill through the depths of the forest. but behold!--at full length on the ground falls the fleet-footed frenchman abruptly. and away with a whoop and a bound, springs the eager, exulting tamdóka. long and loud on the hills is the shout of his swarthy admirers and backers; "but the race is not won till it's out," said duluth, to himself as he gathered, with a frown on his face, for the foot of the wily tamdóka had tripped him. far ahead ran the brave on the route, and turning he boasted exultant. like spurs to the steed to duluth were the jeers and the taunts of the boaster; indignant was he and red wroth, at the trick of the runner dishonest; and away like a whirlwind he speeds --like a hurricane mad from the mountains; he gains on tamdóka,--he leads! --and behold, with the spring of a panther, he leaps to the goal and succeeds, 'mid the roar of the mad acclamation. then glad as the robin in may was the voice of winona exulting; and the crest-fallen brave turned away, and lonely he walked by the river; he glowered as he went and the fire of revenge in his bosom was kindled, but he strove to dissemble his ire, and he whistled alone by the ha-ha. the "wakan wacepee," or sacred dance. [ ] lo the lights in the "teepee wakán!" 'tis the night of the wakán-wacépee. round and round walks the chief of the clan, as he rattles the sacred ta-shá-kay; [ ] long and loud on the chân-che-ga [ ] beat the drummers with magical drumsticks, and the notes of the chô-tánka [ ] greet, like the murmur of winds on the waters. by the friction of white-cedar wood for the feast was a virgin-fire [ ] kindled. they that enter the firm brotherhood first must fast and be cleansed by e-neé-pee; [ ] and from foot-sole to crown of the head must they paint with the favorite colors; for unktéhee likes bands of blood-red, with the stripings of blue intermingled. in the hollow earth, dark and profound, unktéhee and fiery wakín-yan long fought and the terrible sound of the battle was louder than thunder; the mountains were heaved and around were scattered the hills and the boulders, and the vast solid plains of the ground rose and fell like the waves of the ocean. but the god of the waters prevailed. wakín-yan escaped from the cavern, and long on the mountains he wailed, and his hatred endureth forever. when unktéhee had finished the earth, and the beasts and the birds and the fishes, and men at his bidding came forth from the heart of the huge hollow mountains [ ] a band chose the god from the hordes, and he said "ye are sons of unktéhee; ye are lords of the beasts and the birds, and the fishes that swim in the waters. but hearken ye now to my words, --let them sound in your bosoms forever. ye shall honor unktéhee and hate wakínyan, the spirit of thunder, for the power of unktéhee is great, and he laughs at the darts of wakínyan. ye shall honor the earth and the sun, --for they are your father and mother. [ ] let your prayer to the sun be --_wakán, até: on-si-má-da oheé-neé_ [a] and remember the táku wakán, [ ] all pervading in earth and in ether-- invisible ever to man, but he dwells in the midst of all matter; yea, he dwells in the heart of the stone --in the hard granite heart of the boulder; ye shall call him forever tunkán --grandfather of all the dakotas. ye are men that i choose for my own; ye shall be as a strong band of brothers, now i give you the magical bone and the magical pouch of the spirits. [b] and these are the laws ye shall heed: ye shall honor the pouch and the giver. ye shall walk as twin-brothers; in need, one shall forfeit his life for another. listen not to the voice of the crow. [c] hold as sacred the wife of a brother. strike, and fear not the shaft of the foe, for the soul of the brave is immortal. slay the warrior in battle, but spare the innocent babe and the mother. remember a promise;--beware, --let the word of a warrior be sacred. when a stranger arrives at the tee --be he friend of the band or a foeman, give him food; let your bounty be free; lay a robe for the guest by the lodge-fire; let him go to his kindred in peace, if the peace-pipe he smoke in the teepee; and so shall your children increase, and your lodges shall laugh with abundance. and long shall ye live in the land, and the spirits of earth and the waters shall come to your aid, at command, with the power of invisible magic. and at last, when you journey afar --o'er the shining "_wanágee ta-chán-ku_," [ ] you shall walk as a red, shining star, [ ] in the land of perpetual summer." [a] "sacred spirit, father have pity on me always" [b] riggs' tahkoo wakan, p. . [c] slander. all the night in the teepee they sang, and they danced to the mighty unktéhee, while the loud-braying chán-che-ga rang and the shrill-piping flute and the rattle, till anpétuwee [ ] rose in the east --from the couch of the blushing han-nân-na. and then at the dance and the feast sang the song of unktéhee in chorus: "wa-dú-ta o-hna mi-ká-ge! wa-dú-ta o-hná mi-ká-ge! mini-yâta ité wakândè makù, atè wakán--tunkánsidán, tunkânsidán pejihúta wakán micâgè--he wicâgè! miniyáta ité wakándé makú. taukánsidán ite, nápè dú-win-ta woo, wahutôpa wan yúha, nápè dú-win-ta too." translation in red swan-down he made it for me; in red swan-down he made it for me; he of the water--he of the mysterious face-- gave it to me; sacred father--grandfather! grandfather made me magical medicine that is true! being of mystery,--grown in the water-- he gave it to me! to the face of our grandfather stretch out your hand; holding a quadruped, stretch out your hand! till high o'er the hills of the east anpétuwee walked on his journey, in secret they danced at the feast, and communed with the mighty unktéhee. then opened the door of the tee to the eyes of the day and the people, and the sons of unktéhee, to be, were endowed with the sacred ozúha [ ] by the son of tall wazí-kuté, tamdóka, the chief of the magi. and thus since the birth-day of man --since he sprang from the heart of the mountains, [ ] has the sacred "wacépee wakán" by the warlike dakotas been honored, and the god-favored sons of the clan work their will with the help of the spirits. 'twas sunrise; the spirits of mist trailed their white robes on dewy savannas, and the flowers raised their heads to be kissed by the first golden beams of the morning. the breeze was abroad with the breath of the rose of the isles of the summer, and the humming-bird hummed on the heath from his home in the land of the rain-bow. [a] 'twas the morn of departure. duluth stood alone by the roar of the ha-ha; tall and fair in the strength of his youth stood the blue-eyed and fair-bearded frenchman. a rustle of robes on the grass broke his dream as he mused by the waters, and, turning, he looked on the face of winona, wild rose of the prairies, half hid in her forest of hair, like the round, golden moon in the pine tops. admiring he gazed--she was fair as his own blooming flore in her orchards, with her golden locks loose on the air, like the gleam of the sun through the olives, far away on the vine-covered shore, in the sun-favored land of his fathers. "lists the chief to the cataract's roar for the mournful lament of the spirit?" [b] said winona,--"the wail of the sprite for her babe and its father unfaithful, is heard in the midst of the night, when the moon wanders dim in the heavens." [a] the dakotas say the humming-bird comes from the "land of the rain-bow." [b] see legend of the falls or note --appendix. "wild-rose of the prairies," he said, "duluth listens not to the ha-ha, for the wail of the ghost of the dead, for her babe and its father unfaithful; but he lists to a voice in his heart that is heard by the ear of no other, and to-day will the white chief depart --he returns to the land of the sunrise." "let winona depart with the chief, --she will kindle the fire in his teepee; for long are the days of her grief, if she stay in the tee of ta-té-psin," she replied and her cheeks were aflame with the bloom of the wild prairie lilies. "tanké, [a] is the white chief to blame?" said duluth to the blushing winona. "the white chief is blameless," she said, "but the heart of winona will follow wherever thy footsteps may lead, o blue-eyed brave chief of the white men. for her mother sleeps long in the mound, and a step-mother rules in the teepee. and her father, once strong and renowned, is bent with the weight of his winters. no longer he handles the spear, --no longer his swift, humming arrows overtake the fleet feet of the deer, or the bear of the woods, or the bison; but he bends as he walks, and the wind shakes his white hair and hinders his footsteps; and soon will he leave me behind, without brother or sister or kindred. the doe scents the wolf in the wind, and a wolf walks the path of winona. three times have the gifts for the bride [ ] to the lodge of ta-té-psin been carried. but the voice of winona replied that she liked not the haughty tamdóka. and thrice were the gifts sent away, but the tongue of the mother protested, and the were wolf [ ] still follows his prey, abides but the death of my father." [a] my sister. "i pity winona," he said, "but my path is a pathway of danger, and long is the trail for the maid to the far-away land of the sunrise; and few are the braves of my band, and the braves of tamdóka are many; but soon i return to the land, and a cloud of my hunters will follow. when the cold winds of winter return, and toss the white robes of the prairies, the fire of the white chief will burn in his lodge at the meeting-of-waters; [a] and when from the sunrise again comes the chief of the suns of the morning, many moons will his hunters remain in the land of the friendly dakotas. the son of chief wazí-kuté guides the white chief afar on his journey; nor long on the tonka medé [b] --on the breast of the blue, bounding billows-- shall the bark of the frenchman delay, but his pathway shall kindle behind him." [a] mendota, properly _mdó-tè_--meaning the outlet of lake or river into another, commonly applied to the region about fort snelling. [b] tonka mede--great lake, i.e. lake superior. the dakotas seem to have had no other name for it. they generally referred to it as _mini-ya-ta--there at the water._ she was pale, and her hurried voice swelled with alarm as she questioned replying "tamdóka thy guide? --i beheld thy death in his face at the races! he covers his heart with a smile, but revenge never sleeps in his bosom; his tongue--it is soft to beguile; but beware of the pur of the panther! for death, like a shadow, will walk by thy side in the midst of the forest, or follow thy path like a hawk on the trail of a wounded mastinca. [a] a son of unktéhee is he, --the chief of the crafty magicians; they have plotted thy death; i foresee, and thy trail, it is red in the forest; beware of tamdóka,--beware. slumber not like the grouse of the woodlands, with head under wing, for the glare of the eyes that sleep not are upon thee." [a] the rabbit. the dakotas called the crees "mastincapi"--rabbits. "winona, fear not," said duluth, "for i carry the fire of wakínyan, [a] and strong is the arm of my youth, and stout are the hearts of my warriors; but winona has spoken the truth, and the heart of the white chief is thankful. hide this in thy bosom, dear maid, --'tis the crucified christ of the white men. [b] lift thy voice to his spirit in need, and his spirit will hear thee and answer; for often he comes to my aid; he is stronger than all the dakotas; and the spirits of evil, afraid, hide away when he looks from the heavens." in her swelling brown bosom she hid the crucified jesus in silver; "niwástè," [c] she sadly replied; in her low voice the rising tears trembled; her dewy eyes turned she aside, and she slowly returned to the teepees. but still on the swift river's strand, admiring the graceful winona, as she gathered, with brown, dimpled hand, her hair from the wind, stood the frenchman. [a] i.e. a fire arm which the dakotas compare to the roar of the wings of the thunder-bird and the fiery arrows he shoots. [b] duluth was a devout catholic. [c] nee-wahshtay--thou art good. to bid the brave white chief adieu, on the shady shore gathered the warriors; his glad boatmen manned the canoe, and the oars in their hands were impatient. spake the chief of isántees, --"a feast will await the return of my brother in peace rose the sun in the east, in peace in the west he descended. may the feet of my brother be swift, till they bring him again to our teepees; the red pipe he takes as a gift, may he smoke that red pipe many winters. at my lodge-fire his pipe shall be lit, when the white chief returns to kathága; on the robes of my tee shall he sit, he shall smoke with the chiefs of my people. the brave love the brave; and his son sends the chief as a guide for his brother, by the way of the wákpa wakán [a] to the chief at the lake of the spirits. [a] spirit river, now called _rum_ river. as light as the foot-steps of dawn are the feet of the stealthy tamdóka, and he fears not the máza wakán; [a] he is sly as the fox of the forest. when he dances the dance of red war all the hungry wolves howl by the big sea, [b] for they scent on the south-wind afar their feast on the bones of ojibways." thrice the chief puffed the red pipe of peace, ere it passed to the lips of the frenchman. spake duluth,--"may the great spirit bless with abundance the chief and his people; may their sons and their daughters increase, and the fire ever burn in their teepees." then he waved with a flag his adieu to the chief and the warriors assembled; and away shot tamdóka's canoe to the strokes of ten sinewy hunters; and a white path he clove up the blue, bubbling stream of the swift mississippi; and away on his foaming trail flew, like a sea-gull the bark of the frenchman. then merrily rose the blithe song of the _voyageurs_ homeward returning, and thus, as they glided along, sang the bugle-voiced boatmen in chorus: song home again! home again! bend to the oar! merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_ he rides on the river with his paddle in his hand, and his boat is his shelter on the water and the land. the clam in his shell and the water turtle too, and the brave boatman's shell is his birch bark canoe. so pull away, boatmen, bend to the oar; merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. home again! home again! bend to the oar! merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. his couch is as downy as a couch can be, for he sleeps on the feathers of the green fir-tree. he dines on the fat of the pemmican-sack, and his _eau de vie_ is the _eau de lac_. so pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar; merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. home again! home again! bend to the oar! merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. the brave, jolly boatman,--he never is afraid when he meets at the portage a red, forest maid, a huron, or a cree, or a blooming chippeway; and he marks his trail with the _bois brulès_. so pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar; merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. home again! home again! bend to the oar! merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_. [a] fire arm--spirit metal. [b] lake superior--at that time the home of the ojibways. (chippewas) in the reeds of the meadow the stag lifts his branchy head stately and listens, and the bobolink, perched on the flag, her ear sidelong bends to the chorus. from the brow of the beautiful isle, [a] half hid in the midst of the maples, the sad-faced winona, the while, watched the boat growing less in the distance. till away in the bend of the stream, where it turned and was lost in the lindens, she saw the last dip and the gleam of the oars ere they vanished forever. still afar on the waters the song, like bridal bells distantly chiming, the stout, jolly boatmen prolong, beating time with the stroke of their paddles; and winona's ear, turned to the breeze, lists the air falling fainter and fainter till it dies like the murmur of bees when the sun is aslant on the meadows. blow, breezes,--blow softly and sing in the dark, flowing hair of the maiden; but never again shall you bring the voice that she loves to winona. [a] wista waste--nicollet island. now a light, rustling wind from the south shakes his wings o'er the wide, wimpling waters; up the dark winding river duluth follows fast in the wake of tamdóka. on the slopes of the emerald shores leafy woodlands and prairies alternate; on the vine-tangled islands the flowers peep timidly out at the white men; in the dark-winding eddy the loon sits warily, watching and voiceless, and the wild goose, in reedy lagoon, stills the prattle and play of her children. the does and their sleek, dappled fawns prick their ears and peer out from the thickets, and the bison-calves play on the lawns, and gambol like colts in the clover. up the still flowing wákpa wakán's winding path through the groves and the meadows. now duluth's brawny boatmen pursue the swift gliding bark of tamdóka; and hardly the red braves out-do the stout, steady oars of the white men. now they bend to their oars in the race --the ten tawny braves of tamdóka; and hard on their heels in the chase ply the six stalwart oars of the frenchmen. in the stern of his boat sits duluth, in the stern of his boat stands tamdóka; and warily, cheerily, both urge the oars of their men to the utmost. far-stretching away to the eyes, winding blue in the midst of the meadows, as a necklet of sapphires that lies unclaspt in the lap of a virgin, here asleep in the lap of the plain lies the reed-bordered, beautiful river. like two flying coursers that strain, on the track, neck and neck, on the home-stretch, with nostrils distended, and mane froth-flecked, and the neck and the shoulders, each urged to his best by the cry and the whip and the rein of his rider, now they skim o'er the waters and fly, side by side, neck and neck, through the meadows. the blue heron flaps from the reeds, and away wings her course up the river; straight and swift is her flight o'er the meads, but she hardly outstrips the canoemen. see! the _voyageurs_ bend to their oars till the blue veins swell out on their foreheads; and the sweat from their brawny breasts pours; but in vain their herculean labor; for the oars of tamdôka are ten, and but six are the oars of the frenchmen, and the red warriors' burden of men is matched by the _voyageur's_ luggage. side by side, neck and neck, for a mile, still they strain their strong arms to the utmost, till rounding a willowy isle, now ahead creeps the boat of tamdóka, and the neighboring forests profound, and the far-stretching plain of the meadows to the whoop of the victors resound, while the panting french rest on their paddles. with sable wings wide o'er the land, night sprinkles the dew of the heavens; and hard by the dark river's strand, in the midst of a tall, somber forest, two camp-fires are lighted, and beam on the trunks and the arms of the pine-trees. in the fitful light darkle and gleam the swarthy-hued faces around them. and one is the camp of duluth, and the other the camp of tamdóka, but few are the jests and uncouth of the _voyageurs_ over their supper, while moody and silent the braves round their fire in a circle sit crouching; and low is the whisper of leaves and the sough of the wind in the branches; and low is the long-winding howl of the lone wolf afar in the forest; but shrill is the hoot of the owl, like a bugle blast blown in the pine-tops, and the half-startled _voyageurs_ scowl at the sudden and saucy intruder. like the eyes of the wolves are the eyes of the watchful and silent dakotas; like the face of the moon in the skies, when the clouds chase each other across it. is tamdóka's dark face in the light of the flickering flames of the camp fire. they have plotted red murder by night, and securely contemplate their victims. but wary and armed to the teeth are the resolute frenchmen and ready, if need be, to grapple with death, and to die hand to hand in the desert. yet skilled in the arts and the wiles of the cunning and crafty algonkins, they cover their hearts with their smiles, and hide their suspicions of evil. round their low, smouldering fire, feigning sleep, lie the watchful and wily dakotas; but duluth and his _voyageurs_ heap their fire that shall blaze till the morning, ere they lay themselves snugly to rest, with their guns by their side on the blankets, as if there were none to molest but the ravening beasts of the forest. 'tis midnight. the rising moon gleams, weird and still o'er the dusky horizon; through the hushed, somber forest she beams, and fitfully gloams on the meadows; and a dim, glimmering pathway she paves, at times, on the dark stretch of river. the winds are asleep in the caves --in the heart of the far-away mountains; and here on the meadows and there, the lazy mists gather and hover; and the lights of the fen-spirits [ ] flare and dance on the low-lying marshes, as still as the footsteps of death by the bed of the babe and its mother; and hushed are the pines, and beneath lie the weary limbed boatmen in slumber. walk softly,--walk softly, o moon, through the gray, broken clouds in thy pathway, for the earth lies asleep, and the boon of repose is bestowed on the weary. toiling hands have forgotten their care; e'en the brooks have forgotten to murmur; but hark!--there's a sound on the air! --'tis the light-rustling robes of the spirits. like the breath of the night in the leaves, or the murmur of reeds on the river, in the cool of the mid-summer eves, when the blaze of the day has descended. low-crouching and shadowy forms, as still as the gray morning's footsteps, creep sly as the serpent that charms, on her nest in the meadow, the plover; in the shadows of pine-trunks they creep, but their panther-eyes gleam in the fire-light, as they peer on the white men asleep, in the glow of the fire, on their blankets. lo, in each swarthy right hand a knife, in the left hand, the bow and the arrows! brave frenchmen! awake to the strife! --or you sleep in the forest forever. nay, nearer and nearer they glide, like ghosts on the fields of their battles, till close on the sleepers, they bide but the signal of death from tamdóka. still the sleepers sleep on. not a breath stirs the leaves of the awe-stricken forest; the hushed air is heavy with death; like the footsteps of death are the moments. "_arise_!"--at the word, with a bound, to their feet spring the vigilant frenchmen; and the dark, dismal forests resound to the crack and the roar of their rifles; and seven writhing forms on the ground clutch the earth. from the pine-tops the screech owl screams and flaps his wide wings in affright, and plunges away through the shadows; and swift on the wings of the night flee the dim, phantom forms of the spirit. like cabris [ ] when white wolves pursue, fled the four yet remaining dakotas; through forest and fen-land they flew, and wild terror howled on their footsteps. and one was tamdóka. duluth through the night sent his voice like a trumpet; "ye are sons of unktéhee, forsooth! return to your mothers, ye cowards!" his shrill voice they heard as they fled, but only the echoes made answer. at the feet of the brave frenchmen, dead, lay seven swarthy sons of unktéhee; and there, in the midst of the slain, they found, as it gleamed in the fire light, the horn-handled knife from the seine, where it fell from the hand of tamdóka. [illustration: the river wakpa wakan or spirit river] in the gray of the morn, ere the sun peeped over the dewy horizon, their journey again was begun, and they toiled up the swift, winding river; and many a shallow they passed on their way to the lake of the spirits; but dauntless they reached it at last, and found akee-pá-kee-tin's village, [a] on an isle in the midst of the lake; and a day in his teepee they tarried. [a] see hennepin's account of aqui-pa-que-tin and his village. shea's hennepin . of the deed in the wilderness spake, to the brave chief, the frank-hearted frenchman. a generous man was the chief and a friend of the fearless explorer; and dark was his visage with grief at the treacherous act of the warriors. "brave wazi-kuté is a man, and his heart is as clear as the sun-light; but the head of a treacherous clan, and a snake in the bush is tamdóka," said the chief; and he promised duluth, on the word of a friend and a warrior, to carry the pipe and the truth to his cousin, the chief at kathága; for thrice at the tânka medé had he smoked in the lodge of the frenchman; and thrice had he carried away the bountiful gifts of the trader. when the chief could no longer prevail on the white men to rest in his teepee, he guided their feet on the trail to the lakes of the winding rice-river. [a] now on speeds the light bark canoe, through the lakes to the broad gitchee seebee; [b] and up the great river they row, --up the big sandy lake and savanna; and down through the meadows they go to the river of broad gitchee gumee. [c] [a] now called "mud river"--it empties into the mississippi at aitkin. [b] _gitchee seebee_--big river--the ojibway name for the mississippi, which is a corruption of gitchee seebee--as michigan is a corruption of _gitchee gumee_--great lake, the ojibway name of lake superior. [c] the ojibways call the st. louis river _gitchee-gumee see-bee--great-lake river_, i.e. the river of the great lake (lake superior). [illustration: dalles of the st. louis] still onward they speed to the dalles --to the roar of the white-rolling rapids, where the dark river tumbles and falls down the ragged ravine of the mountains, and singing his wild jubilee to the low-moaning pines and the cedars, rushes on to the unsalted sea o'er the ledges upheaved by volcanoes. their luggage the _voyageurs_ bore down the long, winding path of the portage, [a] while they mingled their song with the roar of the turbid and turbulent waters. down-wimpling and murmuring there, twixt two dewy hills winds a streamlet, like a long, flaxen ringlet of hair on the breast of a maid in her slumber. [a] the route of duluth above described--from the mouth of the wild rice mud river to lake superior--was for centuries and still is, the indians' canoe route. i have walked over the old portage from the foot of the dalles to the st. louis above--trod by the feet of half-breeds and _voyageurs_ for more than two centuries, and by the indians for, perhaps, a thousand years. all safe at the foot of the trail, where they left it, they found their felucca, and soon to the wind spread the sail, and glided at ease through the waters, through the meadows and lakelets and forth, round the point stretching south like a finger, from the mist-wreathen hill on the north, sloping down to the bay and the lake-side and behold, at the foot of the hill, a cluster of chippewa wigwams, and the busy wives plying with skill their nets in the emerald waters. two hundred white winters and more have fled from the face of the summer since duluth, on that wild, somber shore, in the unbroken forest primeval, from the midst of the spruce and the pines, saw the smoke of the wigwams up-curling, like the fumes from the temples and shrines of the druids of old in their forests. ah, little he dreamed then, forsooth, that a city would stand on that hill-side, and bear the proud name of duluth, the untiring and dauntless explorer. a refuge for ships from the storms, and for men from the bee-hives of europe. out-stretching her long, iron arms o'er an empire of saxons and normans. the swift west-wind sang in the sails, and on flew the boat like a sea-gull, by the green, templed hills and the dales, and the dark rugged rocks of the north shore; for the course of the brave frenchman lay to his fort at the gáh-mah-na-ték-wáhk, [ ] by the shore of the grand thunder bay, where the gray rocks loom up into mountains; where the stone giant sleeps on the cape, and the god of the storms makes the thunder, [ ] and the makinak [ ] lifts his huge shape from the breast of the blue-rolling waters, and thence to the south-westward led his course to the holy ghost mission. [ ] where the black robes, the brave shepherds, fed their wild sheep on the isle wau-ga-bá-mé. [ ] [illustration: sunset bay, lake superior.] in the enchanting cha-quam-e-gon bay, defended by all the apostles; [a] and thence by the ké-we-naw, lay his course to the mission sainte marie. [b] now the waves drop their myriad hands, and streams the white hair of the surges; duluth at the steady helm stands, and he hums as he bounds o'er the billows: o sweet is the carol of bird, and sweet is the murmur of streams, but sweeter the voice that i heard-- in the night--in the midst of my dreams. [a] the apostle islands. [b] at the saut st. marie. 'tis the moon of the sere, falling leaves. from the heads of the maples the west-wind plucks the red-and-gold plumage and grieves on the meads for the rose and the lily; their brown leaves the moaning oaks strew, and the breezes that roam on the prairies, low-whistling and wanton pursue the down of the silk weed and thistle. all sere are the prairies and brown, in the glimmer and haze of the autumn; from the far northern marshes flock down, by thousands, the geese and the mallards. from the meadows and wide-prairied plains, for their long southward journey preparing, in croaking flocks gather the cranes, and choose with loud clamor their leaders. the breath of the evening is cold, and lurid along the horizon the flames of the prairies are rolled, on the somber skies flashing their torches. at noontide a shimmer of gold, through the haze, pours the sun from his pathway. the wild-rice is gathered and ripe, on the moors, lie the scarlet po-pán-ka; [a] michabo [ ] is smoking his pipe, --'tis the soft, dreamy indian summer, when the god of the south as he flies from wazíya, the god of the winter, for a time turns his beautiful eyes, and backward looks over his shoulder. [a] cranberries. it is noon. from his path in the skies the red sun looks down on kathága, asleep in the valley it lies, for the swift hunters follow the bison. ta-té-psin, the aged brave, bends as he walks by the side of winona; her arm to his left hand she lends, and he feels with his staff for the pathway; on his slow, feeble footsteps attends his gray dog, the watchful wicháka; [a] for blind in his years is the chief of a fever that followed the summer, and the days of ta-té-psin are brief. once more by the dark-rolling river sits the chief in the warm, dreamy haze of the beautiful summer in autumn; and the faithful dog lovingly lays his head at the feet of his master. on a dead, withered branch sits a crow, down-peering askance at the old man; on the marge of the river below romp the nut-brown and merry-voiced children, and the dark waters silently flow, broad and deep, to the plunge of the ha-ha. [a] wee-chah kah--literally "faithful". by his side sat winona. he laid his thin, shriveled hand on her tresses, "winona my daughter," he said, "no longer thy father beholds thee; but he feels the long locks of thy hair, and the days that are gone are remembered, when sisóka [a] sat faithful and fair in the lodge of swift footed ta-té-psin. the white years have broken my spear; from my bow they have taken the bow-string; but once on the trail of the deer, like a gray wolf from sunrise till sunset, by woodland and meadow and mere, ran the feet of ta-té-psin untiring. but dim are the days that are gone, and darkly around me they wander, like the pale, misty face of the moon when she walks through the storm of the winter; and sadly they speak in my ear. i have looked on the graves of my kindred. the land of the spirits is near. death walks by my side like a shadow. now open thine ear to my voice, and thy heart to the wish of thy father, and long will winona rejoice that she heeded the words of ta-té-psin. the cold, cruel winter is near, and famine will sit in the teepee. what hunter will bring me the deer, or the flesh of the bear or the bison? for my kinsmen before me have gone; they hunt in the land of the shadows. in my old age forsaken, alone, must i die in my teepee of hunger? winona, tamdóka can make my empty lodge laugh with abundance; for thine aged and blind father's sake, to the son of the chief speak the promise. for gladly again to my tee will the bridal gifts come for my daughter. a fleet-footed hunter is he, and the good spirits feather his arrows; and the cold, cruel winter will be a feast-time instead of a famine." [a] the robin--the name of winona's mother. "my father," she said, and her voice was filial and full of compassion, "would the heart of ta-té-psin rejoice at the death of winona, his daughter? the crafty tamdóka i hate. must i die in his teepee of sorrow? for i love the white chief, and i wait his return to the land of dakotas. when the cold winds of winter return, and toss the white robes of the prairies, the fire of the white chief will burn, in his lodge, at the meeting-of-waters. winona's heart followed his feet far away to the land of the morning, and she hears in her slumber his sweet, kindly voice call the name of thy daughter. my father, abide, i entreat, the return of the brave to kathága. the wild-rice is gathered, the meat of the bison is stored in the teepee; till the coon-moon [ ] enough and to spare; and if then the white warrior return not, winona will follow the bear, and the coon, to their dens in the forest. she is strong; she can handle the spear; she can bend the stout bow of the hunter; and swift on the trail of the deer will she run o'er the snow on her snow-shoes. let the step-mother sit in the tee, and kindle the fire for my father; and the cold, cruel winter shall be a feast-time instead of a famine." "the white chief will never return," half angrily muttered ta-té-psin; "his camp-fire will nevermore burn in the land of the warriors he slaughtered. i grieve, for my daughter has said that she loves the false friend of her kindred; for the hands of the white chief are red with the blood of the trustful dakotas." then warmly winona replied, "tamdóka himself is the traitor, and the white-hearted stranger had died by his treacherous hand in the forest, but thy daughter's voice bade him beware of the sly death that followed his footsteps. the words of tamdóka are fair, but his heart is the den of the serpents. when the braves told their tale, like a bird sang the heart of winona rejoicing, but gladlier still had she heard of the death of the crafty tamdóka. the chief will return, he is bold, and he carries the fire of wakínyan; to our people the truth will be told, and tamdóka will hide like a coward." his thin locks the aged brave shook; to himself half inaudibly muttered; to winona no answer he spoke --only moaned he "micunksee! micunksee! [a] in my old age forsaken and blind! yun! he he! micúnksee! micúnksee!" [b] and wicháka, the pitying dog, whined, as he looked on the face of his master. [a] my daughter! my daughter! [b] alas! o my daughter,--my daughter! wazíya came down from the north --from his land of perpetual winter. from his frost-covered beard issued forth the sharp-biting, shrill-whistling north-wind; at the touch of his breath the wide earth turned to stone, and the lakes and the rivers; from his nostrils the white vapors rose, and they covered the sky like a blanket. like the down of magá [a] fell the snows, tossed and whirled into heaps by the north-wind. then the blinding storms roared on the plains, like the simoons on sandy sahara; from the fangs of the fierce hurricanes fled the elk and the deer and the bison. ever colder and colder it grew, till the frozen earth cracked and split open; and harder and harder it blew, till the prairies were bare as the boulders. to the southward the buffaloes fled, and the white rabbits hid in their burrows; on the bare sacred mounds of the dead howled the gaunt, hungry wolves in the night-time. the strong hunters crouched in their tees; by the lodge-fires the little ones shivered; and the magic men [b] danced to appease, in their teepee, the wrath of wazíya; but famine and fatal disease, like phantoms, crept into the village. the hard moon [c] was past, but the moon when the coons make their trails in the forest [d] grew colder and colder. the coon or the bear, ventured not from his cover; for the cold, cruel arctic simoon swept the earth like the breath of a furnace. in the tee of ta-té-psin the store of wild-rice and dried meat was exhausted; and famine crept in at the door, and sat crouching and gaunt by the lodge-fire. but now with the saddle of deer, and the gifts, came the crafty tamdóka; and he said, "lo i bring you good cheer, for i love the blind chief and his daughter. take the gifts of tamdóka, for dear to his heart is the dark-eyed winona." the aged chief opened his ears; in his heart he already consented; but the moans of his child and her tears touched the age-softened heart of the father, and he said, "i am burdened with years, --i am bent by the snows of my winters; ta-té-psin will die in his tee; let him pass to the land of the spirits; but winona is young; she is free, and her own heart shall choose her a husband." the dark warrior strode from the tee; low-muttering and grim he departed. "let him die in his lodge," muttered he, "but winona shall kindle my lodge-fire." [a] wild goose. [b] medicine men. [c] january. [d] february. then forth went winona. the bow of ta-té-psin she took and his arrows, and afar o'er the deep, drifted snow, through the forest, she sped on her snow-shoes. over meadow and ice-covered mere, through the thickets of red oak and hazel, she followed the tracks of the deer, but like phantoms they fled from her vision. from sunrise till sunset she sped; half-famished she camped in the thicket; in the cold snow she made her lone bed; on the buds of the birch [a] made her supper. to the dim moon the gray owl preferred, from the tree top, his shrill lamentation, and around her at midnight she heard the dread famine-cries of the gray wolves. in the gloam of the morning again on the trail of the red-deer she followed-- all day long through the thickets in vain, for the gray wolves were chasing the roebucks; and the cold, hungry winds from the plain chased the wolves and the deer and winona. [a] the pheasant feeds on birch-buds in winter. indians eat them when very hungry. in the twilight of sundown she sat, in the forest, all weak and despairing; ta-té-psin's bow lay at her feet, and his otter skin quiver of arrows. "he promised,--he promised," she said --half-dreamily uttered and mournful,-- "and why comes he not? is he dead? was he slain by the crafty tamdóka? must winona, alas, make her choice --make her choice between death and tamdóka? she will die but her soul will rejoice in the far summer-land of the spirits. hark! i hear his low, musical voice! he is coming! my white chief is coming! ah, no; i am half in a dream! --'twas the mem'ry of days long departed; but the birds of the green summer seem to be singing above in the branches." then forth from her bosom she drew the crucified jesus in silver. in her dark hair the cold north wind blew, as meekly she bent o'er the image. "o christ of the white man," she prayed, "lead the feet of my brave to kathága; send a good spirit down to my aid, or the friend of the white chief will perish." then a smile on her wan features played, and she lifted her pale face and chanted: "e-ye-he-ktá! e-ye-he-ktá! hé-kta-cè; é-ye-ce-quón. mí-wamdee-ská, he-he-ktá; he-kta-cè; é-ye-ce-quón, mí-wamdee-ská." [translation.] he will come; he will come; he will come, for he promised. my white eagle, he will come; he will come, for he promised,-- my white eagle. thus sadly she chanted, and lo --allured by her sorrowful accents-- from the dark covert crept a red doe and wondrously gazed on winona. then swift caught the huntress her bow; from her trembling hand hummed the keen arrow. up-leaped the red gazer and fled, but the white snow was sprinkled with scarlet, and she fell in the oak thicket dead. on the trail ran the eager winona. half-famished the raw flesh she ate. to the hungry maid sweet was her supper. then swift through the night ran her feet, and she trailed the sleek red-deer behind her. and the guide of her steps was a star --the cold-glinting star of wazíya--[a] over meadow and hilltop afar, on the way to the lodge of her father. but hark! on the keen frosty air wind the shrill hunger-howls of the gray wolves! and nearer,--still nearer! --the blood of the doe have they scented and follow; through the thicket, the meadow, the wood, dash the pack on the trail of winona. swift she speeds with her burden, but swift on her track fly the minions of famine; now they yell on the view from the drift, in the reeds at the marge of the meadow; red gleam their wild, ravenous eyes; for they see on the hill-side their supper; the dark forest echoes their cries; but her heart is the heart of a warrior. from its sheath snatched winona her knife, and a leg from the red doe she severed; with the carcass she ran for her life, --to a low-branching oak ran the maiden; round the deer's neck her head-strap [b] was tied; swiftly she sprang to the arms of the oak-tree; quick her burden she drew to her side, and higher she clomb on the branches, while the maddened wolves battled and bled, dealing death o'er the leg to each other; their keen fangs devouring the dead, --yea, devouring the flesh of the living, they raved and they gnashed and they growled, like the fiends in the regions infernal; the wide night re-echoing howled, and the hoarse north wind laughed o'er the slaughter. but their ravenous maws unappeased by the blood and the flesh of their fellows, to the cold wind their muzzles they raised, and the trail to the oak-tree they followed. round and round it they howled for the prey, madly leaping and snarling and snapping; but the brave maiden's keen arrows slay, till the dead number more than the living. all the long, dreary night-time, at bay, in the oak sat the shivering winona; but the sun gleamed at last, and away skulked the gray cowards [c] down through the forest. then down dropped the doe and the maid. ere the sun reached the midst of his journey, her red, welcome burden she laid at the feet of her famishing father. [a] wazíya's star is the north star. [b] a strap used in carrying burdens. [c] wolves sometimes attack people at night but rarely if ever in the day time. if they have followed a hunter all night, or "treed" him they will skulk away as soon as the sun rises. wazíya's wild wrath was appeased, and homeward he turned to his teepee, [ ] o'er the plains and the forest-land breezed, from the islands of summer, the south wind. from their dens came the coon and the bear; o'er the snow through the woodlands they wandered; on her snow shoes with stout bow and spear on their trails ran the huntress winona. the coon to his den in the tree, and the bear to his burrow she followed; a brave, skillful hunter was she, and ta-té-psin's lodge laughed with abundance. the long winter wanes. on the wings of the spring come the geese and the mallards; on the bare oak the red-robin sings, and the crocuses peep on the prairies, and the bobolink pipes, but he brings, of the blue-eyed, brave white chief, no tidings. with the waning of winter, alas, waned the life of the aged tatépsin; ere the blue pansies peeped from the grass, to the land of the spirits he journeyed; like a babe in its slumber he passed, or the snow from the hill tops in april; and the dark-eyed winona, at last, stood alone by the graves of her kindred. when their myriad mouths opened the trees to the sweet dew of heaven and the rain drops, and the april showers fell on the leas, on his mound fell the tears of winona. round her drooping form gathered the years and the spirits unseen of her kindred, as low, in the midst of her tears, at the grave of her father she chanted: e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày! e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày! e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày! ma-káh kin háy-chay-dan táy-han wan-kày. tú-way ne ktáy snee e-yáy-chen e-wáh chày. e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày! e-yó-tan-han e-yáy-wah ké-yày! ma-káh kin háy-chay-dan táy-han wan-kày. [translation] sore is my sorrow! sore is my sorrow! sore is my sorrow! the earth alone lasts. i speak as one dying; sore is my sorrow! sore is my sorrow! the earth alone lasts. still hope, like a star in the night gleaming oft through the broken clouds somber, cheered the heart of winona, and bright, on her dreams, beamed the face of the frenchman. as the thought of a loved one and lost, sad and sweet were her thoughts of the white chief; in the moon's mellow light, like a ghost, walked winona alone by the ha-ha, ever wrapped in a dream. far away --to the land of the sunrise--she wandered; on the blue rolling tánka medé, [a] in the midst of her dreams, she beheld him-- in his white-winged canoe, like a bird, to the land of dakotas returning; and often in fancy she heard the dip of his oars on the river. on the dark waters glimmered the moon, but she saw not the boat of the frenchman; on the somber night bugled the loon, but she heard not the song of the boatmen. the moon waxed and waned, but the star of her hope never waned to the setting; through her tears she beheld it afar, like a torch on the eastern horizon. "he will come,--he is coming," she said; "he will come, for my white eagle promised," and low to the bare earth the maid bent her ear for the sound of his footsteps. "he is gone, but his voice in my ear still remains like the voice of the robin; he is far, but his footsteps i hear; he is coming; my white chief is coming!" [a] lake superior,--the _gitchee gumee_ of the chippewas. but the moon waxed and waned. nevermore will the eyes of winona behold him. far away on the dark, rugged shore of the blue gitchee gúmee he lingers. no tidings the rising sun brings; no tidings the star of the evening; but morning and evening she sings, like a turtle-doe widowed and waiting; aké u, aké u, aké u; ma cântè maséca. aké u, aké u, aké u; ma cântè maséca. come again, come again, come again; for my heart is sad. come again, come again, come again; for my heart is sad. down the broad gitchee seebee [a] the band took their way to the games at keóza. while the swift-footed hunters by land ran the shores for the elk and the bison. like magás [b] ride the birchen canoes on the breast of the dark gitchee seebee; by the willow-fringed islands they cruise by the grassy hills green to their summits; by the lofty bluffs hooded with oaks that darken the deep with their shadows; and bright in the sun gleam the strokes of the oars in the hands of the women. with the band went winona. the oar plied the maid with the skill of a hunter. they loitered and camped on the shore of remníca --the lake of the mountains. [c] there the fleet hunters followed the deer, and the thorny _pahin_ [d] for the women. [a] chippewa name of the mississippi [b] wild geese [c] lake pepin; by hennepin called lake of tears--called by the dakotas remnee-chah-mday--lake of the mountains. [d] pah hin--the porcupine--the quill of which are greatly prized for ornamental work. from the tees rose the smoke of good cheer, curling blue through the tops of the maples, near the foot of a cliff that arose, like the battle-scarred walls of a castle. up-towering, in rugged repose, to a dizzy height over the waters. but the man-wolf still followed his prey, and the step-mother ruled in the tepee; her will must winona obey, by the custom and law of dakotas. the gifts to the teepee were brought --the blankets, and beads of the white men, and winona, the orphaned, was bought by the crafty relentless tamdóka. in the spring-time of life, in the flush of the gladsome mid-may days of summer, when the bobolink sang and the thrush, and the red robin chirped in the branches, to the tent of the brave must she go; she must kindle the fire in his tepee; she must sit in the lodge of her foe, as a slave at the feet of her master. alas for her waiting! the wings of the east-wind have brought her no tidings; on the meadow the meadow-lark sings but sad is her song to winona, for the glad warblers melody brings but the memory of voices departed. the day-spirit walked in the west to his lodge in the land of the shadows; his shining face gleamed on the crest of the oak-hooded hills and the mountains, and the meadow-lark hied to her nest, and the mottled owl peeped from her cover. but hark! from the teepees a cry! hear the shouts of the hurrying warriors! are the steps of the enemy nigh, --of the crafty and creeping ojibways? nay; look on the dizzy cliff high! --on the brink of the cliff stands winona! her sad face up-turned to the sky. hark! i hear the wild chant of her death-song: my father's spirit, look down, look down-- from your hunting-grounds in the shining skies; behold, for the light of my soul is gone,-- the light is gone and winona dies. i looked to the east, but i saw no star; the face of my white chief was turned away. i harked for his footsteps in vain; afar his bark sailed over the sunrise-sea. long have i watched till my heart is cold; in my breast it is heavy and cold as stone. no more shall winona his face behold, and the robin that sang in her heart is gone. shall i sit at the feet of the treacherous brave? on his hateful couch shall winona lie? shall she kindle his fire like a coward slave? no!--a warrior's daughter can bravely die. my father's spirit, look down, look down-- from your hunting-grounds in the shining skies; behold, for the light of my soul is gone,-- the light is gone and winona dies. swift the strong hunters clomb as she sang, and the foremost of all was tamdóka; from crag to crag upward he sprang; like a panther he leaped to the summit. too late! on the brave as he crept turned the maid in her scorn and defiance; then swift from the dizzy height leaped. like a brant arrow-pierced in mid-heaven. down-whirling and fluttering she fell, and headlong plunged into the waters. forever she sank mid the wail, and the wild lamentation of women. her lone spirit evermore dwells in the depths of the lake of the mountains, and the lofty cliff evermore tells to the years as they pass her sad story. [a] in the silence of sorrow the night o'er the earth spread her wide, sable pinions; and the stars [ ] hid their faces, and light on the lake fell the tears of the spirits. as her sad sisters watched on the shore for her spirit to rise from the waters, they heard the swift dip of an oar, and a boat they beheld like a shadow, gliding down through the night in the gray, gloaming mists on the face of the waters. 'twas the bark of duluth on his way from the falls to the games at keóza. [a] the dakotas say that the spirit of winona forever haunts the lake. they say that it was many, many winters ago when winona leaped from the rock--that the rock was then perpendicular to the water's edge and she leaped into the lake, but now the rock has worn away, or the water has receded, so that it does not reach the foot of the rock. [illustration: "down the ragged ravine of the mountains." dalles of the st louis.] the legend of the falls. note: an-pe-tu sa-pa--clouded day--was the name of the dakota mother who committed suicide, as related in this legend, by plunging over the falls of st. anthony. schoolcraft calls her "_ampata_ sapa." _ampata_ is not dakota. there are several versions of this legend, all agreeing in the main points. [read at the celebration of the old settlers of hennepin county, at the academy of music, minneapolis, july , .] (the numerals refer to notes in the appendix.) on the spirit-island [a] sitting under midnight's misty moon, lo i see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one! slumber wraps the silent city, and the droning mills are dumb; one lone whippowil's shrill ditty calls her mate that ne'er will come. sadly moans the mighty river, foaming down the fettered falls, where of old he thundered ever o'er abrupt and lofty walls. great unktèhee [ ]--god of waters--lifts no more his mighty head;-- fled he with the timid otters?--lies he in the cavern dead? [a] the small island of rock a few rods below the falls, was called by the dakotas wanagee we-ta�-spirit-island. they say the spirit of anpetu sapa sits upon that island at night and pours forth her sorrow in song. they also say that from time out of mind, war-eagles nested on that island, until the advent of white men frightened them away. this seems to be true. carver's travels. london. , p. . hark!--the waters hush their sighing, and the whippowil her call, through the moon-lit mists are flying dusky shadows silent all. lo from out the waters foaming--from the cavern deep and dread-- through the glamour and the gloaming, comes a spirit of the dead. sad she seems, her tresses raven on her tawny shoulders rest; sorrow on her brow is graven, in her arms a babe is pressed. hark!--she chants the solemn story,--sings the legend sad and old, and the river wrapt in glory listens while the tale is told. would you hear the legend olden, hearken while i tell the tale-- shorn, alas, of many a golden, weird dakota chant and wail. the legend. tall was young wanâta, stronger than heyóka's [ ] giant form. laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm. when wakínyan [ ] flashed and thundered, when unktéhee raved and roared, all but brave wanâta wondered, and the gods with fear implored. when the war-whoop wild resounded, calling friends to meet the foe, from the teepee swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow. in the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew, flashed his fiery eyes with anger,--many a haughty foe he slew. hunter, swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear, overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair. loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain; many a heart with sighs was laden for the love it might not gain. so they called the brave "ska câpa"; [a] but the fairest of the band-- moon-faced, meek anpétu-sâpa--won the hunter's heart and hand. [a] or capa ska--white beaver. white beavers are very rare, very cunning and hard to catch. from the wars with triumph burning, from the chase of bison fleet, to his lodge the brave returning, spread his trophies at her feet. love and joy sat in the tepee; him a black-eyed boy she bore; but alas, she lived to weep a love she lost forevermore. for the warriors chose wanâta first itâncan [a] of the band. at the council-fire he sat a leader loved a chieftain grand. proud was fair anpétu-sâpa, and her eyes were glad with joy; proud was she and very happy, with her chieftain and her boy. but alas, the fatal honor that her brave wanâta won, brought a bitter woe upon her,--hid with clouds the summer sun for among the brave dakotas, wives bring honor to the chief. on the vine-clad minnesota's banks he met the scarlet leaf. young and fair was apè-dúta [b]--full of craft and very fair; proud she walked a queen of beauty with her wondrous flowing hair. in her net of hair she caught him--caught wanâta with her wiles; all in vain his wife besought him--begged in vain his wonted smiles. apè-dúta ruled the teepee--all wanâta's smiles were hers; when the lodge was wrapped in sleep a star [c] beheld the mother's tears. long she strove to do her duty for the black-eyed babe she bore; but the proud, imperious beauty made her sad forevermore. still she dressed the skins of beaver, bore the burdens, spread the fare; patient ever, murmuring never, while her cheeks were creased with care. [a] e-tan-can--chief. [b] a-pe--leaf,--duta--scarlet,--scarlet leaf. [c] stars, the dakotas say, are the faces of departed friends and relatives on earth. in the moon magâ-o-kâda, [ ] twice an hundred years ago-- ere the "black robe's" [a] sacred shadow stalked the prairies' pathless snow down the swollen, rushing river, in the sunset's golden hues, from the hunt of bear and beaver came the band in swift canoes. on the queen of fairy islands, on the wita-wâstè's [b] shore, camped wanâta, on the highlands, just above the cataract's roar. many braves were with wanâta; apè-dúta, too, was there, and the sad anpétu-sâpa spread the lodge with wonted care. then above the leafless prairie leaped the fat faced, laughing moon, and the stars--the spirits fairy--walked the welkin one by one. swift and silent in the gloaming on the waste of waters blue, speeding downward to the foaming, shot wanâta's birch canoe, in it stood anpétu-sâpa--in her arms her sleeping child; like a wailing norse-land _drapa_ [c] rose her death-song weird and wild: mihihna, [d] mihihna, my heart is stone; the light is gone from my longing eyes; the wounded loon in the lake alone her death-song sings to the moon and dies. mihihna, mihihna, the path is long. the burden is heavy and hard to bear; i sink,--i die, and my dying song is a song of joy to the false one's ear. mihihna, mihihna, my young heart flew far away with my brave to the bison-chase; to the battle it went with my warrior true, and never returned till i saw his face. mihihna, mihihna, my brave was glad when he came from the chase of the roebuck fleet; sweet were the words that my hunter said, as his trophies he laid at anpétu's feet. mihihna, mihihna, the boy i bore-- when the robin sang and my brave was true, i can bear to look on his face no more. for he looks, mihihna, so much like you. mihihna, mihihna, the scarlet leaf has robbed my boy of his father's love; he sleeps in my arms--he will find no grief in the star-lit lodge in the land above. mihihna, mihihna, my heart is stone, the light is gone from my longing eyes; the wounded loon in the lake alone, her death-song sings to the moon and dies. [a] the dakotas called the jesuit priests "black robes" from the color of their vestments. [b] wee tah wah-stay--beautiful island,--the dakota name for nicollet island just above the falls. [c] _drapa_, a norse funeral wail in which the virtues of the deceased are recounted. [d] mee heen-yah--my husband. swiftly down the turbid torrent, as she sung her song she flew; like a swan upon the current, dancing rode the light canoe. hunters hurry in the gloaming, all in vain wanâta calls; singing through the surges foaming, lo she plunges o'er the falls. long they search the sullen river--searched for leagues along the shore, bark or babe or mother never saw the sad dakotas more; but at night or misty morning oft the hunters heard her song, oft the maidens heard her warning in their mellow mother-tongue. on the bluffs they sat enchanted till the blush of beamy dawn; spirit isle they say, is haunted, and they call the spot "wakân." [a] many summers on the highland, in the full-moon's golden glow-- in the woods on fairy island, [b] walked a snow white fawn and doe spirits of the babe and mother sadly seeking evermore, for a father's love another turned with evil charm and power. [a] pronounced walk on--sacred, inhabited by a spirit. [b] fairy island--wita waste--nicollet island. sometimes still when moonbeams shimmer through the maples on the lawn, in the gloaming and the glimmer walk the silent doe and fawn; and on spirit-isle or near it, under midnight's misty moon, oft is seen the mother's spirit, oft is heard her mournful tune. [illustration: scene on thunder bay, lake superior.] the seagull. [ ] the legend of the pictured rocks of lake superior. ojibway. in the measure of hiawatha (the numerals etc., refer to notes to sea-gull in appendix.) on the shore of gitchee gumee--[ ] deep, mysterious, mighty waters--where the mânitoes--the spirits-- ride the storms and speak in thunder, in the days of neme-shómis, [ ] in the days that are forgotten, dwelt a tall and tawny hunter-- gitchee péz-ze-ú--the panther, son of waub-ojeeg, [ ] the warrior, famous waub-ojeeg, the warrior. strong was he and fleet as roebuck, brave was he and very stealthy; on the deer crept like a panther; grappled with makwá, [ ] the monster, grappled with the bear and conquered; took his black claws for a necklet, took his black hide for a blanket. when the panther wed the sea-gull, young was he and very gladsome; fair was she and full of laughter; like the robin in the spring time, sang from sunrise till the sunset; for she loved the handsome hunter. deep as gitchee gumee's waters was her love--as broad and boundless; and the wedded twain were happy-- happy as the mated robins. when their first born saw the sunlight joyful was the heart of panther, proud and joyful was the mother. all the days were full of sunshine; all the nights were full of star light. nightly from the land of spirits on them smiled the starry faces,-- faces of their friends departed. little moccasins she made him, feathered cap and belt of wampum; from the hide of fawn a blanket, fringed with feathers soft as sable; singing at her pleasant labor, by her side the tekenâgun [ ] and the little hunter in it. oft the panther smiled and fondled, smiled upon the babe and mother, frolicked with the boy and fondled. tall he grew and like his father, and they called the boy the raven-- called him kâk-kâh-gè--the raven. happy hunter was the panther. from the woods he brought the pheasant, brought the red deer and the rabbit, brought the trout from gitchee gumee-- brought the mallard from the marshes,-- royal feast for boy and mother: brought the hides of fox and beaver, brought the skins of mink and otter, lured the loon and took his blanket, took his blanket for the raven. winter swiftly followed winter, and again the tekenâgun held a babe--a tawny daughter, held a dark-eyed, dimpled daughter; and they called her waub-omeé-meé,-- thus they named her--the white-pigeon. but as winter followed winter cold and sullen grew the panther; sat and smoked his pipe in silence; when he spoke he spoke in anger; in the forest often tarried many days, and homeward turning, brought no game unto his wigwam: only brought his empty quiver, brought his dark and sullen visage. sad at heart and very lonely sat the sea-gull in the wigwam; sat and swung the tekenâgun, sat and sang to waub-omeé-meé; thus she sang to waub-omeé-meé, thus the lullaby she chanted: wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà; kah-wéen, nee-zhéka kè-diaus-âi, ke-gâh nau-wâi, ne-mé-go s'wéen, ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is-âis, wâ-wa, wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà; ne-bâun, ne-bâun, ne-dâun-is-âis, e-we wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà, e-we wâ-wa, wâ-we-yeà, [translation] swing, swing little one, lullaby; thou'rt not left alone to weep; mother cares for you,--she is nigh; sleep, my little one, sweetly sleep; swing, swing, little one, lullaby; mother watches you--she is nigh; gently, gently, wee one swing; gently, gently, while i sing e-we wâ-wa--lullaby, e-we wâ-wa�-lullaby. homeward to his lodge returning kindly greeting found the hunter, fire to warm and food to nourish, golden trout from gitchee gumee, caught by kâk-kâh-gè--the raven. with a snare he caught the rabbit-- caught wabóse, the furry footed, [ ] caught penây, the forest drummer; [ ] sometimes with his bow and arrows, shot the red deer in the forest. shot the squirrel in the pine top, shot ne-kâ, the wild goose, flying. proud as waub-ojeeg, the warrior, to the lodge he bore his trophies so when homeward turned the panther ever found he food provided, found the lodge-fire brightly burning, found the faithful sea-gull waiting. "you are cold," she said, "and famished; here are fire and food, my husband." not by word or look he answered; only ate the food provided, filled, his pipe and pensive puffed it, smoked and sat in sullen silence. once--her dark eyes full of hunger-- thus she spoke and thus besought him: "tell me, o my silent panther, tell me, o beloved husband, what has made you sad and sullen? have you met some evil spirit-- met some goblin in the forest? has he put a spell upon you-- filled your heart with bitter waters, that you sit so sad and sullen, sit and smoke, but never answer, only when the storm is on you?" gruffly then the panther answered: "brave among the brave is panther, son of waub-ojeeg, the warrior, and the brave are ever silent; but a whining dog is woman, whining ever like a coward." forth into the tangled forest, threading through the thorny thickets, treading, trails on marsh and meadow, sullen strode the moody hunter. saw he not the bear or beaver, saw he not the elk or roebuck; from his path the red fawn scampered, but no arrow followed after; from his den the sly wolf listened, but no twang of bow-string heard he. like one walking in his slumber, listless, dreaming walked the panther; surely had some witch bewitched him, some bad spirit of the forest. when the sea-gull wed the panther, fair was she and full of laughter; like the robin in the spring-time, sang from sunrise till the sunset; but the storms of many winters sifted frost upon her tresses, seamed her tawny face with wrinkles. not alone the storms of winters seamed her tawny face with wrinkles. twenty winters for the panther had she ruled the humble wigwam; for her haughty lord and master borne the burdens on the journey, gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, tanned the skins of bear and beaver, tanned the hides of moose and red deer; made him moccasins and leggings, decked his hood with quills and feathers-- colored quills of kaug, the thorny, [ ] feathers from kenéw--the eagle. [ ] for a warrior brave was panther; often had he met the foemen, met the bold and fierce dakotas; westward on the war-path met them; and the scalps he won were numbered, numbered seven by kenéw-feathers. sad at heart was sea-gull waiting, watching, waiting in the wigwam; not alone the storms of winters sifted frost upon her tresses. ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty, [ ] he that sends the cruel winter, he that turned to stone the giant, from the distant thunder-mountain, far across broad gitchee gumee, sent his warning of the winter, sent the white frost and kewâydin, [ ] sent the swift and hungry north-wind. homeward to the south the summer turned and fled the naked forests. with the summer flew the robin, flew the bobolink and blue-bird. flock wise following chosen leaders, like the shaftless heads of arrows southward cleaving through the ether, soon the wild geese followed after. one long moon the sea-gull waited, watched and waited for her husband, till at last she heard his footsteps, heard him coming through the thicket. forth she went to meet her husband, joyful went to greet her husband. lo behind the haughty hunter, closely following in his footsteps, walked a young and handsome woman, walked the red fox from the island-- gitchee ménis--the grand island,-- followed him into the wigwam, proudly took her seat beside him. on the red fox smiled the hunter, on the hunter smiled the woman. old and wrinkled was the sea-gull, good and true, but old and wrinkled. twenty winters for the panther had she ruled the humble wigwam, borne the burdens on the journey, gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, tanned the skins of bear and beaver, tanned the hides of moose and red deer, made him moccasins and leggings, decked his hood with quills and feathers, colored quills of kaug, the thorny, feathers from the great war-eagle; ever diligent and faithful, ever patient, ne'er complaining. but like all brave men the panther loved a young and handsome woman; so he dallied with the danger, dallied with the fair algónkin, [ ] till a magic mead she gave him, brewed of buds of birch and cedar. [ ]madly then he loved the woman; then she ruled him, then she held him tangled in her raven tresses, tied and tangled in her tresses. ah, the tail and tawny panther! ah, the brave and brawny panther! son of waub-ojeeg, the warrior! with a slender hair she led him, with a slender hair he drew him, drew him often to her wigwam; there she bound him, there she held him tangled in her raven tresses, tied and tangled in her tresses. ah, the best of men are tangled-- sometime tangled in the tresses of a fair and crafty woman. so the panther wed the red fox, and she followed to his wigwam. young again he seemed and gladsome, glad as raven when the father made his first bow from the elm-tree, from the ash tree made his arrows, taught him how to aim his arrows, how to shoot wabóse--the rabbit. then again the brawny hunter brought the black bear and the beaver, brought the haunch of elk and red-deer, brought the rabbit and the pheasant-- choicest bits of all for red fox. for her robes he brought the sable, brought the otter and the ermine, brought the black-fox tipped with silver. but the sea-gull murmured never, not a word she spoke in anger, went about her work as ever, tanned the skins of bear and beaver, tanned the hides of moose and red deer, gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, gathered rushes from the marches; deftly into mats she wove them; kept the lodge as bright as ever. only to herself she murmured, all alone with waub-omeé-meé, on the tall and toppling highland, o'er the wilderness of waters; murmured to the murmuring waters, murmured to the nébe-nâw-baigs-- to the spirits of the waters; on the wild waves poured her sorrow, save the infant on her bosom with her dark eyes wide with wonder, none to hear her but the spirits, and the murmuring pines above her. thus she cast away her burdens, cast her burdens on the waters; thus unto the mighty spirit, made her lowly lamentation: "wahonówin!--wahonówin!" [ ] gitchee mânito, benâ nin! nah, ba-bâ, showâin neméshin! "wahonówin!--wahonówin!" ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty, [ ] he that sends the cruel winter, from the distant thunder-mountain, on the shore of gitchee gumee-- on the rugged northern limit, sent his solemn, final warning, sent the white wolves of the nor'land [ ] like the dust of stars in ether-- in the pathway of the spirits. [ ] like the sparkling dust of diamonds, fell the frost upon the forest, on the mountains and the meadows, on the wilderness of woodland. on the wilderness of waters. all the lingering fowls departed-- all that seek the south in winter, all but shingebís, the diver. [ ] he defies the winter-maker, sits and laughs at winter-maker. ka-be-bón-ík-ka, the mighty, from his wigwam called kewáydin,-- from his home among the ice-bergs, from the sea of frozen waters, called the swift and hungry north-wind. then he spread his mighty pinions over all the land and shook them, like the white down of wâubésè [ ] fell the feathery snow and covered, all the marshes and the meadows, all the hill-tops and the highlands. then old péboân--the winter--[ ] laughed along the stormy waters, danced upon the windy headlands, on the storm his white hair streaming,-- and his steaming breath, ascending, on the pine-tops and the cedars fell in frosty mists refulgent, sprinkling somber shades with silver, sprinkling all the woods with silver. by the lodge-fire all the winter sat the sea-gull and the red fox, sat and kindly spoke and chatted, till the twain seemed friends together. friends they seemed in word and action, but within the breast of either smouldered still the baneful embers-- fires of jealousy and hatred,-- like a camp-fire in the forest left by hunters and deserted; only seems a bed of ashes, but the east-wind, wâbun noódin, scatters through the woods the ashes, fans to flame the sleeping embers, and the wild-fire roars and rages, roars and rages through the forest. so the baneful embers smouldered, smouldered in the breast of either. from the far-off sunny islands, from the pleasant land of summer, where the spirits of the blessèd feel no more the fangs of hunger, or the cold breath of kewâydin, came a stately youth and handsome, came según the foe of winter. [ ] like the rising sun his face was, like the shining stars his eyes were, light his footsteps as the morning's. in his hand were buds and blossoms, on his brow a blooming garland. straightway to the icy wigwam of old péboân, the winter, strode según and quickly entered. there old péboân sat and shivered, shivered o'er his dying lodge-fire. "ah, my son, i bid you welcome; sit and tell me your adventures; i will tell you of my power; we will pass the night together." thus spake péboân--the winter; then he filled his pipe and lighted; then by sacred custom raised it to the spirits in the ether; to the spirits in the caverns of the hollow earth he lowered it. thus he passed it to the spirits, and the unseen spirits puffed it. next himself old péboân honored; thrice he puffed his pipe and passed it, passed it to the handsome stranger. "lo i blow my breath," said winter, "and the laughing brooks are silent; hard as flint become the waters, and the rabbit runs upon them." then según, the fair youth, answered: "lo i breathe upon the hill-sides, on the valleys and the meadows, and behold, as if by magic-- by the magic of the spirits, spring the flowers and tender grasses." then old péboân replying: "nah! [ ] i breathe upon the forests, and the leaves fall sere and yellow; then i shake my locks and snow falls, covering all the naked landscape." then según arose and answered: "nashké! [ ]--see!--i shake my ringlets; on the earth the warm rain falleth, and the flowers look up like children glad-eyed from their mother's bosom. lo my voice recalls the robin, brings the bobolink and blue-bird, and the woods are full of music. with my breath i melt their fetters, and the brooks leap laughing onward." then old péboân looked upon him, looked and knew según, the summer, from his eyes the big tears started and his boastful tongue was silent. now keezís [ ]--the great life-giver, from his wigwam in waubú-nong [ ] rose and wrapped his shining blanket round his giant form and started; westward started on his journey, striding on from hill to hill-top. upward then he climbed the ether-- on the bridge of stars [ ] he traveled, westward traveled on his journey to the far-off sunset mountains-- to the gloomy land of shadows. on the lodge-poles sang the robin,-- and the brooks began to murmur. on the south wind floated fragrance of the early buds and blossoms. from old péboân's eyes the teardrops down his pale face ran in streamlets; less and less he grew in stature till he melted doun to nothing; and behold, from out the ashes, from the ashes of his lodge-fire, sprang the miscodeed [ ] and, blushing, welcomed según to the north-land. so from sunny isles returning, from the summer-land of spirits, on the poles of panther's wigwam sang opeé-chee--sang the robin. in the maples cooed the pigeons-- cooed and wooed like silly lovers. "hah!--hah!" laughed the crow derisive, in the pine-top, at their folly,-- laughed and jeered the silly lovers. blind with love were they, and saw not; deaf to all but love, and heard not; so they cooed and wooed unheeding, till the gray hawk pounced upon them, and the old crow shook with laughter. on the tall cliff by the sea-shore red fox made a swing. she fastened thongs of moose-hide to the pine-tree, to the strong arm of the pine-tree. like a hawk, above the waters, there she swung herself and fluttered, laughing at the thought of danger, swung and fluttered o'er the waters. then she bantered sea-gull, saying, "see!--i swing above the billows! dare you swing above the billows,-- swing like me above the billows?" to herself said sea-gull--"surely i will dare whatever danger dares the red fox--dares my rival; she shall never call me coward." so she swung above the waters-- dizzy height above the waters, pushed and aided by her rival, to and fro with reckless daring, till the strong tree rocked and trembled, rocked and trembled with its burden. as above the yawning billows flew the sea-gull like a whirlwind, red fox, swifter than red lightning, cut the cords, and headlong downward, like an osprey from the ether, like a wild-goose pierced with arrows, fluttering fell the frantic woman, fluttering fell into the waters-- plunged and sank beneath the waters! hark!--the wailing of the west-wind! hark!--the wailing of the waters, and the beating of the billows! but no more the voice of sea-gull. in the wigwam sat the red fox, hushed the wail of waub-omeé-meé, weeping for her absent mother. with the twinkling stars the hunter from the forest came and raven. "sea-gull wanders late" said red fox, "late she wanders by the sea-shore, and some evil may befall her." in the misty morning twilight forth went panther and the raven, searched the forest and the marshes, searched for leagues along the lake-shore, searched the islands and the highlands; but they found no trace or tidings, found no track in marsh or meadow, found no trail in fen or forest, on the shore sand found no foot-prints. many days they sought and found not. then to panther spoke the raven: "she is in the land of spirits-- surely in the land of spirits. high at midnight i beheld her-- like a flying star beheld her-- to the waves of gitchee gumee, downward flashing through the ether. thus she flashed that i might see her, see and know my mother's spirit; thus she pointed to the waters, and beneath them lies her body, in the wigwam of the spirits-- in the lodge of nébe-nâw-baigs." [ ] then spoke panther to the raven: "on the tall cliff by the waters wait and watch with waub-omeé-meé. if the sea-gull hear the wailing of her infant she will answer." on the tall cliff by the waters so the raven watched and waited; all the day he watched and waited, but the hungry infant slumbered, slumbered by the side of raven, till the pines' gigantic shadows stretched and pointed to waubú-nong--[ ] to the far off land of sunrise; then the wee one woke and famished, made a long and piteous wailing. from afar where sky and waters meet in misty haze and mingle, straight toward the rocky highland, straight as flies die feathered arrow, straight to raven and the infant swiftly flew a snow white sea-gull.-- flew and touched the earth a woman. and behold, the long-lost mother caught her wailing child and nursed her, sang a lullaby and nursed her. thrice was wound a chain of silver round her waist and strongly fastened. far away into the waters-- to the wigwam of the spirits,-- to the lodge of nébe-nâw-baigs,-- stretched the magic chain of silver. spoke the mother to the raven: "o my son--my brave young hunter, feed my tender little orphan; be a father to my orphan; be a mother to my orphan,-- for the crafty red fox robbed us,-- robbed the sea-gull of her husband, robbed the infant of her mother. from this cliff the treacherous woman headlong into gitchee gumee plunged the mother of my orphan. then a nébe-nâw-baig caught me,-- chief of all the nébe-nâw-baigs-- took me to his shining wigwam, in the cavern of the waters, deep beneath the might waters. all below is burnished copper, all above is burnished silver gemmed with amethyst and agates. as his wife the spirit holds me; by this silver chain he holds me. when my little one is famished, when with long and piteous wailing cries the orphan for her mother, hither bring her, o my raven; i will hear her,--i will answer. now the nébe-nâw-baig calls me,-- pulls the chain,--i must obey him." thus she spoke and in the twinkling of a star the spirit-woman changed into a snow-white sea-gull, spread her wings and o'er the waters swiftly flew and swiftly vanished. then in secret to the panther raven told his tale of wonder. sad and sullen was the hunter; sorrow gnawed his heart like hunger; all the old love came upon him, and the new love was a hatred. hateful to his heart was red fox, but he kept from her the secret-- kept his knowledge of the murder. vain was she and very haughty--- oge-mâ-kwa [ ] of the wigwam. all in vain her fond caresses on the panther now she lavished; when she smiled his face was sullen, when she laughed he frowned upon her; in her net of raven tresses now no more she held him tangled. now through all her fair disguises panther saw an evil spirit, saw the false heart of the woman. on the tall cliff o'er the waters raven sat with waub-omeé-meé, sat and watched again and waited, till the wee one faint and famished, made a long and piteous wailing. then again the snow-white sea-gull from afar where sky and waters meet in misty haze and mingle, straight toward the rocky highland, straight as flies the feathered arrow, straight to raven and the infant, with the silver chain around her, flew and touched the earth a woman. in her arms she caught her infant-- caught the wailing waub-omeé-meé, sang a lullaby and nursed her. sprang the panther from the thicket-- sprang and broke the chain of silver! with his tomahawk he broke it. thus he freed the willing sea-gull-- from the water-spirit freed her, from the chief of nébe-nâw-baigs. very angry was the spirit; when he drew the chain of silver, drew and found that it was broken, found that he had lost the woman, very angry was the spirit. then he raged beneath the waters, raged and smote the mighty waters, till the big sea boiled and bubbled, till the white-haired, bounding billows roared around the rocky head-lands, roared and plashed upon the shingle. to the wigwam happy panther, as when first he wooed and won her, led his wife--as young and handsome. for the waves of gitchee gumee washed away the frost and wrinkles, and the spirits by their magic made her young and fair forever. in the wigwam sat the red fox, sat and sang a song of triumph, for she little dreamed of danger, till the haughty hunter entered, followed by the happy mother, holding in her arms her infant. then the red fox saw the sea-gull-- saw the dead a living woman, one wild cry she gave despairing, one wild cry as of a demon. up she sprang and from the wigwam to the tall cliff flew in terror; frantic sprang upon the margin, frantic plunged into the water, headlong plunged into the waters. dead she tossed upon the billows; for the nébe-nâw-baigs knew her, knew the crafty, wicked woman, and they cast her from the waters, spurned her from their shining wigwams; far away upon the shingle with the roaring waves they cast her. there upon her bloated body fed the cawing crows and ravens, fed the hungry wolves and foxes. on the shore of gitchee gumee, ever young and ever handsome, long and happy lived the sea-gull, long and happy with the panther. evermore the happy hunter loved the mother of his children. like a red star many winters blazed their lodge-fire on the sea-shore. o'er the bridge of souls together [ ] walked the sea-gull and the panther. to the far-off sunny islands-- to the summer-land of spirits, where no more the happy hunter feels the fangs of frost or famine, or the keen blasts of kewâydin. where no pain or sorrow enters, and no crafty, wicked woman, sea-gull journeyed with her husband. there she rules his lodge forever, and the twain are very happy, on the far-off sunny islands, in the summer-land of spirits. on the rocks of gitchee gumee-- on the pictured rocks--the legend long ago was traced and written, pictured by the water spirits; but the storms of many winters have bedimmed the pictured story, so that none can read the legend but the jossakeeds, the prophets. [ ] [illustration: crystal bay, lake minnetonka.] minnetonka note: the dakota name for this beautiful lake is _me-ne-a-tan-ka_--broad water. by dropping the a before tánka, we have changed the name to _big water_. i sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious june. i hear the dip of gleaming oar. i list the singer's merry tune. beneath my feet the waters beat and ripple on the polished stones. the squirrel chatters from his seat: the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones. the pink and gold in blooming wold,--the green hills mirrored in the lake! the deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break. the maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep; the sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an orient gem asleep. the crimsoned west glows like the breast of _rhuddin_ [a] when he pipes in may, as downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay. [a] the welsh name for the robin. in amber sky the swallows fly, and sail and circle o'er the deep; the light-winged night-hawks whir and cry; the silver pike and salmon leap. the rising moon, the woods aboon, looks laughing down on lake and lea; weird o'er the waters shrills the loon; the high stars twinkle in the sea. from bank and hill the whippowil sends piping forth his flute-like notes, and clear and shrill the answers trill from leafy isles and silver throats. the twinkling light on cape and height; the hum of voices on the shores; the merry laughter on the night; the dip and plash of frolic oars,-- these tell the tale. on hill and dale the cities pour their gay and fair; along the sapphire lake they sail, and quaff like wine the balmy air. 'tis well. of yore from isle and shore the smoke of indian teepees [a] rose; the hunter plied the silent oar; the forest lay in still repose. the moon-faced maid, in leafy glade, her warrior waited from the chase; the nut-brown, naked children played, and chased the gopher on the grass. the dappled fawn, on wooded lawn, peeped out upon the birch canoe, swift-gliding in the gray of dawn along the silent waters blue. in yonder tree the great _wanm-dee_ [b] securely built her spacious nest; the blast that swept the land-locked sea [c] but rocked her clamorous babes to rest. by grassy mere the elk and deer gazed on the hunter as he came; nor fled with fear from bow or spear;--"so wild were they that they were tame." [a] lodges. [b] wanm-dee--the war-eagle of the dakotas. [c] lake superior. ah, birch canoe, and hunter, too, have long forsaken lake and shore: he bade his father's bones adieu and turned away forevermore. but still, methinks, on dusky brinks the spirit of the warrior moves; at crystal springs the hunter drinks, and nightly haunts the spot he loves. for oft at night i see the light of lodge-fires on the shadowy shores, and hear the wail some maiden's sprite above her slaughtered warrior pours. i hear the sob on spirit knob [a] of indian mother o'er her child; and on the midnight waters throb her low _yun-he-he's_ [b] weird and wild. and sometimes, too, the light canoe glides like a shadow o'er the deep at midnight, when the moon is low, and all the shores are hushed in sleep. [a] spirit knob is a small hill up on a point in the lake in full view from wayzata. the spirit of a dakota mother whose only child was drowned in the lake during a storm, many, many years ago often wails at midnight (so the dakotas say), on this hill. so they called it _wa-na-gee pa-ze-dan_--spirit knob. (literally--little hill of the spirit.) [b] pronounced _yoon-hay-hay_--the exclamation used by dakota women in their lament for the dead, and equivalent to "woe is me." alas--alas!--for all things pass; and we shall vanish, too, as they; we build our monuments of brass, and granite, but they waste away. footnotes: [footnote : called in the dakota tongue "hok-sée-win-nâ-pee wo-hàn-pee"--virgins dance (or feast).] [footnote : one of the favorite and most exciting games of the dakotas is ball-playing. a smooth place on the prairie, or in winter, on a frozen lake or river, is chosen. each player has a sort of bat, called "tâ-kée-cha-psé-cha," about thirty two inches long with a hoop at the lower end four or five inches in diameter, interlaced with thongs of deer-skin, forming a sort of pocket. with these bats they catch and throw the ball. stakes are set as bounds at a considerable distance from the centre on either side. two parties are then formed, and each chooses a leader or chief. the ball (tâ-pa) is then thrown up half way between the bounds, and the game begins, the contestants contending with their bats for the ball as it falls. when one succeeds in getting it fairly in the pocket of his bat he swings it aloft and throws it as far as he can towards the bound to which his party is working, taking care to send it, if possible, where some of his own side will take it up. thus the ball is thrown and contended for till one party succeeds in casting it beyond the bound of the opposite party. a hundred players on a side are sometimes engaged in this exciting game. betting on the result often runs high. moccasins, pipes, knives, hatchets, blankets, robes and guns are hung on the prize-pole. not unfrequently horses are staked on the issue, and sometimes even women. old men and mothers are among the spectators praising their swift-footed sons, and young wives and maidens are there to stimulate their husbands and lovers. this game is not confined to the warriors, but is also a favorite amusement of the dakota maidens who generally play for prizes offered by the chief or warriors. see neill's hist. minn. pp - ; riggs' "tâkoo wakân," pp - , and mrs eastman's dacotah, p .] [footnote : pronounced wah-zeé-yah. the god of the north, or winter. a fabled spirit who dwells in the frozen north, in a great teepee of ice and snow. from his mouth and nostrils he blows the cold blasts of winter. he and "i-tó-ka-ga wi-câs-ta"--the spirit or god of the south (literally the "south man"), are inveterate enemies, and always on the war-path against each other. in winter wa-zí-ya advances southward and drives "i-tó-ka-ga wi-câs-ta" before him to the summer-islands. but in spring the god of the south, having renewed his youth and strength, in the "happy hunting grounds," is able to drive wa-zí-ya back again to his icy wigwam in the north. some dakotas say that the numerous granite boulders, scattered over the prairies of minnesota and dakota, were hurled in battle by wa-zí-ya from his home in the north at "i-tó-ka-ga wi-câs-ta." the wa-zí-ya of the dakotas is substantially the name as "_ka-be-bón-ik-ka_"--the "winter-maker" of the ojibways.] [footnote : mendota--(meeting of the waters) at the confluence of the mississippi and minnesota rivers. see view of the valley�front cut. the true dakota word is mdó tè--applied to the mouth of a river flowing into another,--also to the outlet of a lake.] [footnote : pronounced wee-wâh-stay; literally--a beautiful virgin, or woman.] [footnote : cetân-wa-ká-wa-mâni--"he who shoots pigeon-hawks walking"--was the full dakota name of the grandfather of the celebrated "little crow" (ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta.--his red people) who led his warriors in the terrible outbreak in minnesota in - . the chippewas called the grandfather "kâ-kâ-keé"--crow or raven--from his war-badge, a crow-skin; and hence the french traders and _courriers du bois_ called him "_petit corbeau_"--little crow. this sobriquet, of which he was proud, descended to his son, wakínyan tânka--big thunder, who succeeded him as chief; and from big thunder to his son ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta, who became chief on the death of wakínyan tânka. these several "little crows" were successively chiefs of the light-foot, or kapóza band of dakotas. kapóza, the principal village of this band, was originally located on the east bank of the mississippi near the site of the city of st. paul. col. minn. hist. soc., , p. . it was in later years moved to the west bank. the grandfather, whom i, for short, call wakâwa, died the death of a brave in battle against the ojibways (commonly called chippewas)--the hereditary enemies of the dakotas. wakínyan tânka.--big thunder, was killed by the accidental discharge of his own gun. they were both buried with their kindred near the "wakan teepee," the sacred cave--(carver's cave). ta-ó-ya-te-dú-ta, the last of the little crows, was killed july , , near hutchinson, minnesota, by one lamson, and his bones were duly "done up" for the historical society of minnesota. for a part of the foregoing information i am indebted to gen. h. h. sibley. see heard's hist. sioux war, and neill's hist. minnesota, third edition.] [footnote : hârps-te-nâh. the first-born _daughter_ of a dakota is called winona; the second, hârpen; the third, hârpstinâ; the fourth. wâska; the fifth, wehârka. the first born _son_ is called chaskè; the second, hârpam; the third, hapéda; the fourth, châtun; the fifth, hârka. they retain these names till others are given them on account of some action, peculiarity, etc. the females often retain their child-names through life.] [footnote : wah-pah-sâh was the hereditary name of a long and illustrious lineof dakota chiefs. wabashaw is a corrupt pronounciation. the name is a contraction of "wâ-pa-hâ-sa," which is from "wâ-ha-pa," the standard or pole used in the dakota dances, and upon which feathers of various colors are tied, and not from "wâ-pa"--leaf or leaves, as has been generally supposed. therefore wâpasa means the standard--and not the "leaf-shaker," as many writers have it. the principal village of these hereditary chiefs was ke-úk-sa, or ke-ó-sa,--where now stands the fair city of winona. ke-úk-sa signifies--the village of law-breakers; so-called because this band broke the law or custom of the dakotas against marrying blood relatives of any degree. i get this information from rev. stephen r. riggs, author of the dakota grammar and dictionary, "_takoo wakan_," etc. wapasa, grandfather of the last chief of that name, and a contemporary of cetan-wa-kâ-wa-mâni, was a noted chief, and a friend of the british in the war of the revolution. neill's hist. minn., pp. - .] [footnote : e-hó, e-tó--exclamations of surprise and delight.] [footnote : mah-gâh--the wild-goose.] [footnote : teé-peé--a lodge or wigwam, often contracted to "tee."] [footnote : pronounced mahr-peé-yah-doó-tah--literally, cloud red.] [footnote : pronounced wahnmdeé--the war-eagle. each feather worn by a warrior represents an enemy slain or captured--man, woman or child; but the dakotas, before they became desperate under the cruel warfare of their enemies, generally spared the lives of their captives, and never killed women or infants, except in rare instances, under the _lex talionis_. neill's hist. minn., p. .] [footnote : mah-tó--the polar bear--_ursus maritimus_. the dakotas say that, in olden times, white bears were often found about rainy lake and the lake of the woods, in winter, and sometimes as far south as the mouth of the minnesota. they say one was once killed at white bear lake (but a few miles from st. paul and minneapolis), and they therefore named the lake medé mató--white bear lake.] [footnote : the hó-hé (hó-hây) are the assiniboins or "stone-roasters." their home is the region of the assiniboin river in british america. they speak the dakota tongue, and originally were a band of that nation. tradition says a dakota "helen" was the cause of the separation and a bloody feud that lasted for many years. the hohés are called "stone roasters," because, until recently at least, they used "wa-ta-pe" kettles and vessels made of birch bark in which they cooked their food. they boiled water in these vessels by heating stones and putting them in the water. the "wa-ta-pe" kettle is made of the fibrous roots of the white cedar, interlaced and tightly woven. when the vessel is soaked it becomes watertight. (footnote snelling's) tales of the north west, p . mackenzie's travels.] [footnote : hey-ó-ka is one of the principal dakota deities. he is a giant, but can change himself into a buffalo, a bear, a fish or a bird. he is called the anti-natural god or spirit. in summer he shivers with cold, in winter he suffers from heat; he cries when he laughs and he laughs when he cries, &c. he is the reverse of nature in all things. heyóka is universally feared and reverenced by the dakotas, but so severe is the ordeal that the heyóka wacípee (the dance to heyóka) is now rarely celebrated. it is said that the "medicine-men" use a secret preparation which enables them to handle fire and dip their hands in boiling water without injury, and thereby gain great _eclat_ from the uninitiated. the chiefs and the leading warriors usually belong to the secret order of "medicine-men," or "sons of unktéhee"--the spirit of the waters.] [footnote : the dakota name for the moon is han-yé-tu-wee--literally, night-sun. he is the twin brother of an-pé-tu-wee--the day sun. see note .] [footnote : the dakotas believe that the stars are the spirits of their departed friends.] [footnote : tee--contracted from teepee, lodge or wigwam, and means the same.] [footnote : for all their sacred feasts the dakotas kindle a new fire called "the virgin fire." this is done with flint and steel, or by rubbing together pieces of wood till friction produces fire. it must be done by a virgin, nor must any woman, except a virgin, ever touch the "sacred armor" of a dakota warrior. white cedar is "wakân"--sacred. see note . riggs' "tahkoo wakân," p. .] [footnote : all northern indians consider the east a mysterious and sacred land whence comes the sun. the dakota name for the east is wee-yo-heé-yan-pa--the sunrise. the ojibways call it waub-ó-nong--the white land or land of light, and they have many myths, legends and traditions relating thereto. barbarous peoples of all times have regarded the east with superstitious reverence, simply because the sun rises in that quarter.] [footnote : see mrs. eastman's dacotah, pp. - , describing the feast to heyóka.] [footnote : this stone from which the dakotas have made their pipes for ages, is esteemed "wakân"--sacred. they call it i-yân-ska, probably from "íya," to speak, and "ska," white, truthful, peaceful,--hence, peace-pipe, herald of peace, pledge of truth, etc. in the cabinet at albany, n.y., there is a very ancient pipe of this material which the iroquois obtained from the dakotas. charlevoix speaks of this pipe-stone in his history of new france. lesueur refers to the yanktons as the village of the dakotas at the red-stone quarry, see neill's hist. minn., p. .] [footnote : "ho" is an exclamation of approval�-yea, yes, bravo.] [footnote : buying is the honorable way of taking a wife among the dakotas. the proposed husband usually gives a horse or its, value in other articles to the father or natural guardian of the woman selected--sometimes against her will. see note .] [footnote : the dakotas believe that the _aurora borealis_ is an evil omen and the threatening of an evil spirit, (perhaps wazíya, the winter-god--some say a witch, or a very ugly old woman). when the lights appear, danger threatens, and the warriors shoot at, and often slay, the evil spirit, but it rises from the dead again.] [footnote : se-só-kah--the robin.] [footnote : the spirit of anpétu-sâpa that haunts the falls of st. anthony with her dead babe in her arms. see the legend in neill's hist. minn., or my "legend of the falls."] [footnote : mee-coónk-shee--my daughter.] [footnote : the dakotas call the meteor, "wakân-denda" (sacred fire) and wakân-wohlpa (sacred gift.) meteors are messengers from the land of spirits, warning of impending danger. it is a curious fact that the "sacred stone" of the mohammedans, in the kaaba at mecca, is a meteoric stone, and obtains its sacred character from the fact that it fell from heaven. : kah-nó-te-dahn--the little, mysterious dweller in the woods. this spirit lives in the forest in hollow trees. mrs. eastman's dacotah, pre. rem. xxxi. "the dakota god of the woods--an unknown animal said to resemble a man, which the dakotas worship; perhaps, the monkey." riggs' dakota dic. tit--_canotidan_.] [footnote : the dakotas believe that thunder is produced by the flapping of the wings of an immense bird which they call wakínyan--the thunder-bird. near the source of the minnesota river is a place called "thunder-tracks" where the foot-prints of a "thunder-bird" are seen on the rocks twenty-five miles apart. mrs. eastman's dacotah, p. . there are many thunder-birds. the father of all the thunder-birds--"wakínyan tanka"--or "big thunder," has his teepee on a lofty mountain in the far west. his teepee has four openings, at each of which is a sentinel; at the east, a butterfly; at the west, a bear; at the south, a red deer; at the north, a caribou. he has a bitter enmity against unktéhee (god of waters) and often shoots his fiery arrows at him, and hits the earth, trees, rocks, and sometimes men. wakínyan created wild-rice, the bow and arrow, the tomahawk and the spear. he is a great war-spirit, and wanmdée (the war-eagle) is his messenger. a thunder-bird (say the dakotas) was once killed near kapóza by the son of cetan-wakawa-mâni, and he there upon took the name of "wakínyan tanka"--"big thunder."] [footnote : pronounced tah-tâhn-kah--bison or buffalo.] [footnote : enâh--an exclamation of wonder. ehó--behold! see there!] [footnote : the crees are the knisteneaux of alexander mackenzie. see his account of them, mackenzie's travels, (london ) p. xci. to cvii.] [footnote : lake superior. the only names the dakotas have for lake superior are medé tânka or tânka medé--great lake, and me-ne-yâ-ta--literally, _at-the-water_.] [footnote : april--literally, the moon when the geese lay eggs. see note .] [footnote : carver's cave at st. paul was called by the dakotas "wakân teepee"--sacred lodge. in the days that are no more, they lighted their council-fires in this cave, and buried their dead near it. see neill's hist. minn., p. . capt. carver in his _travels_, london, , p. , et seq., describes this cave as follows: "it is a remarkable cave of an amazing depth. the indians term it wakon-teebe, that is, the dwelling of the great spirit. the entrance into it is about ten feet wide, the height of it five feet, the arch within is near fifteen feet high and about thirty feet broad. the bottom of it consists of fine clear sand. about twenty feet from the entrance begins a lake, the water of which is transparent, and extends to an unsearchable distance; for the darkness of the cave prevents all attempts to acquire a knowledge of it. i threw a small pebble towards the interior parts of it with my utmost strength. i could hear that it fell into the water, and notwithstanding it was of so small a size, it caused an astonishing and horrible noise that reverberated through all those gloomy regions. i found in this cave many indian hieroglyphics, which appeared very ancient, for time had nearly covered them with moss, so that it was with difficulty i could trace them. they were cut in a rude manner upon the inside of the walls, which were composed of a stone so extremely soft that it might be easily penetrated with a knife: a stone everywhere to be found near the mississippi. this cave is only accessible by ascending a narrow, steep passage that lies near the brink of the river. at a little distance from this dreary cavern is the burying-place of several bands of the naudowessie (dakota) indians." many years ago the roof fell in, but the cave has been partially restored and is now used as a beer cellar.] [footnote : wah-kahn-dee--the lightning.] [footnote : the bloody river--the red river was so-called on account of the numerous indian battles that have been fought on its banks. the chippewas say that its waters were colored red by the blood of many warriors slain on its banks in the fierce wars between themselves and the dakotas.] [footnote : tah--the moose. this is the root-word for all ruminating animals; ta-tânka, buffalo�-ta-tóka mountain antelope--ta-hinca, the red-deer--ta-mdóka, the buck deer�-ta-hinca-ska, white deer (sheep).] [footnote : hogâhn--fish. red hogan, the trout.] [footnote : tipsânna (often called _tipsinna_) is a wild prairie turnip used for food by the dakotas. it grows on high, dry land, and increases from year to year. it is eaten both cooked and raw.] [footnote : rio tajo, (or tagus), a river of spain and portugal.] [footnote : "* * * * bees of trebizond-- which from the sunniest flowers that glad with their pure smile the gardens round, draw venom forth that drives men mad." --_thomas moore_] [footnote : skeé-skah--the wood duck.] [footnote : the crocus. i have seen the prairies in minnesota spangled with these beautiful flowers in various colors before the ground was entirely free from frost. the datotas call them frost-flowers.] [footnote : the "sacred ring" around the feast of the virgins is formed by armed warriors sitting, and none but a virgin must enter this ring. the warrior who knows is bound on honor, and by old and sacred custom, to expose and publicly denounce any tarnished maiden who dares to enter this ring, and his word cannot be questioned--even by the chief. see mrs eastman's dacotah, p. .] [footnote : prairie's pride.--this annual shrub, which abounds on many of the sandy prairies in minnesota, is sometimes called "tea-plant," "sage-plant," and "red-root willow." i doubt if it has any botanic name. its long plumes of purple and gold are truly the "pride of the prairies."] [footnote : the dakotas consider white cedar "wakân," (sacred). they use sprigs of it at their feasts, and often burn it to destroy the power of evil spirits. mrs eastman's dacotah, p. .] [footnote : tâhkoo-skahng-skang.--this deity is supposed to be invisible, yet everywhere present; he is an avenger and a searcher of hearts. (neill's hist. minn., p. .) i suspect he was the chief spirit of the dakotas before the missionaries imported "wakan tânka"--(great spirit).] [footnote : the dakotas believe in "were-wolves" as firmly as did our saxon ancestors, and for similar reasons--the howl of the wolf being often imitated as a decoy or signal by their enemies, the ojibways.] [footnote : shee-shó-kah--the robin.] [footnote : the dakotas cail the evening star the "_virgin star_," and believe it to be the spirit of the virgin wronged at the feast.] [footnote : mille lacs. this lake was discovered by duluth, and by him named lac buade, in honor of governor frontenac of canada, whose familyname was buade. the dakota name for it is mdé waksân--spirit lake.] [footnote : the ojibways imitate the hoot of the owl and the howl of the wolf to perfection, and often use these cries as signals to each other in war and the chase.] [footnote : the dakotas called the ojibways the "snakes of the forest," on account of their lying in ambush for their enemies.] [footnote : strawberries.] [footnote : seé-yo--the prairie-hen.] [footnote : mahgâh--the wild-goose. _fox-pups_. i could never see the propriety of calling the young of foxes _kits_ or _kittens_, which mean _little cats_. the fox belongs to the _canis_, or dog family and not the _felis_, or cat family. if it is proper to call the young of dogs and wolves _pups_, it is equally proper to so call the young of foxes.] [footnote : when a dakota is sick, he thinks the spirit of an enemy or some animal has entered into his body, and the principal business of the "medicine man"--_wicasta wakan_--is to cast out the "unclean spirit," with incantations and charms. see neill's hist. minn., pp. -- . the jews entertained a similar belief in the days of jesus of nazareth.] [footnote : wah-zeé-yah's star--the north-star. see note .] [footnote : the dakotas, like our forefathers and all other barbarians, believe in witches and witchcraft.] [footnote : the medó is a wild potato, it resembles the sweet potato in top and taste. it grows in bottom-lands, and is much prized by the dakotas for food. the "dakota friend," for december, .] [footnote : the meteor--wakân denda--sacred fire.] [footnote : meetâhwin--my bride.] [footnote : stoke--the body of a tree. this is an old english word of saxon origin, now changed to _stock_.] [footnote : the _via lactea_ or milky way. the dakotas call it _wanagee-tach-anku_--the path-way of the spirits and believe that over this path the spirits of the dead pass to the spirit-land. see riggs' tah-koo wah-kan, p. .] [footnote : oonk-táy-hee--there are many unktéhees, children of the great unktéhee, who created the earth and man and who formerly dwelt in a vast cavern under the falls of st. anthony. the unktéhee sometimes reveals himself in the form of a huge buffalo-bull. from him proceed invisible influences. the great unktéhee created the earth. "assembling in grand conclave all the aquatic tribes he ordered them to bring up dirt from beneath the waters, and proclaimed death to the disobedient. the beaver and otter forfeited their lives. at last the muskrat went beneath the waters, and, after a long time appeared at the surface, nearly exhausted, with some dirt. from this, unktéhee fashioned the earth into a large circular plain. the earth being finished, he took a deity, one of his own offspring, and grinding him to powder, sprinkled it upon the earth, and this produced many worms. the worms were then collected and scattered again. they matured into infants and these were then collected and scattered and became full-grown dakotas. the bones of the mastodon, the dakotas think, are the bones of unktéhees, and they preserve the with the greatest care in the medicine bag." neill's hist. minn., p. . the unktéhees and the thunder-birds are perpetually it war. there are various accounts of the creation of man. some say that at the bidding of the great unktéhee, men sprang full grown from the caverns of the earth. see riggs' "tah-koo wah-kân," and mrs eastman's dacotah. the great unktéhee and the great thunder-bird had a terrible battle in the bowels of the earth to determine which should be the ruler of the world. see description in legend of winona.] [footnote : prononced ahng-pay-too-wee--the sun; literally the day sun, thus distinguishing him from han-yé-tuwee (hahng-yay-too-wee) the night sun, (the moon). they are twin brothers but anpétuwee is the more powerful han-yé-tuwee receives his power from his brother and obeys him. he watches over the earth while the sun sleeps. the dakotas believe the sun is the father of life. unlike the most of their other gods, he is beneficent and kind; yet they worship him (in the sun-dance) in the most dreadful manner. see riggs' "tah-koo wah-kân," pp. - , and catlin's riggs' "okee-pa." the moon is worshipped as the representative of the sun; and in the great sun-dance, which is usually held in the full of the moon, when the moon rises the dancers turn their eyes on her (or him). anpétuwee issues every morning from the lodge of han-nan-na (the morning) and begins his journey over the sky to his lodge in the land of shadows. sometimes he walks over on the bridge (or path) of the spirits--wanâgee ta-chan-ku,--and sometimes he sails over the sea of the skies in his shining canoe; but _somehow_, and the dakotas do not explain how, he gets back again to the lodge of hannanna in time to take a nap and eat his breakfast before starting anew on his journey. the dakotas swear by the sun. "_as anpé-tu-wee hears me, this is true_!" they call him father and pray to him --"_wakan! ate, on-she-ma-da._" "sacred spirit,--father, have mercy on me." as the sun is the father, so they believe the earth is the mother, of life. truly there is much philosophy in the dakota mythology. the algonkins call the earth "_me-suk-kum-mik-o-kwa_"--the great-grandmother of all. narrative of john tanner, p. .] [footnote : the dakotas reckon their months by _moon_. they name their moons from natural circumstances. they correspond very nearly with our months, as follows: january--wee-té-rhee--the hard moon, i.e.--the cold moon. february--wee-câ-ta-wee--the coon moon. march--istâ-wee-ca-ya-zang-wee--the sore eyes moon (from snow blindness.) april--magâ-okâ-da-wee--the moon when the geese lay eggs; also called wokâda-wee--egg-moon, and sometimes wató-papee-wee, the canoe moon, or moon when the streams become free from ice. may--wó-zu-pee-wee--the planting moon. june--wazú-ste-ca-sa-wee--the strawberry moon. july--wa-sun-pa-wee--moon when the geese shed their feathers, also called chang-pâ-sapa-wee--choke-cherry moon, and sometimes--mna-rchâ-rhca-wee--"the moon of the red blooming lilies", literally, the red-lily moon. august--wasú-ton-wee--the ripe moon, i.e. harvest moon. september--psin-na-ké-tu-wee--the ripe rice moon. october--wà-zu-pee-wee or wee-wa-zú-pee--the moon when wild rice is gathered and laid up for winter. november--ta-kee-yu-hrâ-wee--the deer-rutting moon. december--ta-hé-cha-psung-wee--the moon when deer shed their horns.] [footnote : oonk-tó-mee--is a "bad spirit" in the form of a monstrous black spider. he inhabits fens and marshes and lies in wait for his prey. at night he often lights a torch (evidently the _ignis fatuus_ or jack-a-lantern) and swings it on the marshes to decoy the unwary into his toils.] [footnote : the dakotas have their stone idol, or god, called toon-kan--or in-yan. this god dwells in stone or rocks and is they say, the _oldest god of all_--he is grandfather of all living things. i think, however that the stone is merely the symbol of the everlasting, all pervading, invisible _ta-ku wa-kan_--the essence of all life,--pervading all nature, animate and inanimate. the rev. s. r. riggs who, for forty years, has been a student of dakota customs, superstitions etc., says, "tâhkoo wahkan," p. : et seq. "the religious faith of the dakota is not in his gods as such. it is in an intangible, mysterious something of which they are only the embodiment, and that in such measure and degree as may accord with the individual fancy of the worshipper. each one will worship some of these divinities, and neglect or despise others, but the great object of all their worship, whatever its chosen medium, is the _ta-koo wa-kan_, which is the _supernatural_ and _mysterious_. no one term can express the full meaning of the dakotas _wakan_. it comprehends all mystery, secret power and divinity. awe and reverence are its due, and it is as unlimited in manifestation as it is in idea. all life is _wakan_; so also is everything which exhibits power, whether in action as the winds and drifting clouds; or in passive endurance, as the boulder by the wayside. for even the commonest sticks and stones have a spiritual essence which must be reverenced as a manifestation of the all-pervading mysterious power that fills the the universe."] [footnote : wazi-kuté--wah-ze-koo-tay; literally--pine-shooter--he that shoots among the pines. when father hennepin was at mille lacs in - , wazi-kuté was the head chief (itâncan) of the band of isantees. hennepin writes his name� ouasicoudé and translates it--the "pierced pine." see shea's hennepin p. , minn. hist. coll. vol. i. p. .] [footnote : when a dakota brave wishes to "propose" to a "dusky maid", he visits her teepee at night after she has retired, or rather, laid down in her robe to sleep. he lights a splinter of wood and holds it to her face. if she blows out the light, he is accepted; if she covers her head and leaves it burning, he is rejected. the rejection however is not considered final till it has been thrice repeated. even then the maiden is often bought of her parents or guardian, and forced to become the wife of the rejected suitor. if she accepts the proposal, still the suitor must buy her of her parents with suitable gifts.] [footnote : the dakotas called the falls of st. anthony the ha-ha--the _loud laughing_, or _roaring_. the mississippi river they called ha-ha wá-kpa--river of the falls. the ojibway name for the falls is ka-ká-bih-kúng. minnehaha is a combination of two dakota words--mini--water and ha-ha--falls; but it is not the name by which the dakotas designated that cataract. some authorities say they called it i-ha-ha pronounced e-rhah-rhah--lightly laughing. rev. s. w. pond, whose long residence as a missionary among the dakotas in this immediate vicinity makes him an authority that can hardly be questioned, says "they called the falls of minnehaha "mini-i-hrpâ-ya dan," and it had no other name in dakota. it means little falls and nothing else." letter to the author.] [footnote : the game of the plum-stones is one of the favorite games of the dakotas. hennepin was the first to describe this game in his "description de la louisiane," paris, , and he describes it very accurately. see shea's translation p. . the dakotas call this game _kan-soo koo tay-pe_--shooting plum-stones. each stone is painted black on one side and red on the other; on one side they grave certain figures which make the stones "wakan." they are placed in a dish and thrown up like dice; indeed the game is virtually a game of dice. hennepin says: "there are some so given to this game that they will gamble away even their great coat. those who conduct the game cry at the top of their voices when they rattle the platter and they strike their shoulders so hard as to leave them all black with the blows."] [footnote : wa'tanka--contraction of wa-kan tanka--great spirit. the dakotas had no wakan tanka--or wakan-péta--fire spirit--till whitemen imported them. there being no name for the supreme being in the dakota tongue (except tá-ku wakan--see note )--and all their gods and spirits being wakan--the missionaries named god in dakota--"_wakan tanka_"--which means _big spirit_, or _the big mysterious_.] [footnote : the dakotas called lake calhoun--mdé-mdó-za--loon lake. they also called it--_re-ya-ta-mde_--the lake back from the river. they called lake harriet--mdé-únma--the other lake--or (perhaps) mdé úma�hazel-nut lake. the lake nearest calhoun on the north--lake of the isles--they called wí-ta mdé--island-lake. lake minnetonka they called me-me-a-tán-ka--_broad water_.] [footnote : the animal called by the french _voyageurs_ the _cabri_ (the kid) is found only on the prairies. it is of the goat kind, smaller than a deer, and so swift that neither horse nor dog can overtake it. (snelling's) "tales of the northwest," p. . note . it is the gazelle, or prairie antelope, called by the dakotas tato-ka-dan--little antelope. it is the _pish-tah-te-koosh_ of the algonkin tribes, "reckoned the fleetest animal in the prairie country about the assinneboin." captivity and adventures of john tanner, p. .] [footnote : the wicâstâpi wakânpi (literally, _men supernatural_) are the "medicine-men" or magicians of the dakotas. they call themselves the sons, or disciples of unktéhee. in their rites, ceremonies, tricks and pretensions they closely resemble the dactyli, idæ and curetes of the ancient greeks and romans, the magi of the persians, and the druids of britain. their pretended intercourse with spirits, their powers of magic and divination, and their rites are substantially the same, and point unmistakably to a common origin. the dakota "medicine-man" can do the "rope-trick" of the hindoo magician to perfection. the teepee used for the _wakan wacipee_--or sacred dance--is called the _wakan teepee_--the sacred teepee. carver's cave at st. paul was also called wakan teepee, because the medicine-men or magicians often held their dances and feasts in it. for a full account of the rites, etc., see riggs' "tâhkoo wahkan", chapter vi. the _ta-sha-ke_--literally, "deer-hoofs"--is a rattle made by hanging the hard segments of deer-hoofs to a wooden rod a foot long--about an inch in diameter at the handle end, and tapering to a point at the other. the clashing of these horny bits makes a sharp, shrill sound something like distant sleigh-bells. in their incantations over the sick they sometimes use the gourd-shell rattle.] the chân-che-ga--is a drum or "wooden kettle." the hoop of the drum is from a foot to eighteen inches in diameter, and from three to ten inches deep. the skin covering is stretched over one end making a drum with one end only. the magical drum sticks are ornamented with down, and heads of birds or animals are carved on them. this makes them wakan.] the flute called _cho-tanka_ (big pith) is of two varieties--one made of sumac, the pith of which is punched out, etc. the second variety is made of the long bone of the wing or thigh of the swan or crane. they call the first the _bubbling chotanka_ from the tremulous note it gives when blown with all the holes stopped. riggs' tahkoo wahkan, p. , et seq.] e-né-pee--vapor bath is used as a purification preparatory to the sacred feasts. the vapor bath is taken in this way: "a number of poles the size of hoop-poles or less are taken, and their larger ends being set in the ground in a circle, the flexible tops are bent over and tied in the centre. this frame work is then covered with robes and blankets, a small hole being left on one side for an entrance. before the door a fire is built, and round stones about the size of a man's head are heated in it. when hot, they are rolled within, and the door being closed, steam is made by pouring water on them. the devotee, stripped to the skin, sits within this steam-tight dome, sweating profusely at every pore, until he is nearly suffocated. sometimes a number engage in it together and unite their prayers and songs." "tâhkoo wakan," p. . father hennepin was subjected to the vapour-bath at mille lacs by chief aqui-pa-que-tin, two hundred years ago. after describing the method hennepin says: "when he had made me sweat thus three times in a week, i felt as strong as ever." shea's hennepin, p. . for a very full and accurate account of the medicine men of the dakotas, and their rites etc., see chap. ii, neill's hist. minnesota.] [footnote : the sacred _o-zu-ha_--or medicine-sack must be made of the skin of the otter, the coon, the weasel, the squirrel, the loon, a certain kind of fish or the skins of serpents. it must contain four kinds of medicine (or magic) representing birds, beasts, herbs and trees, viz: the down of the female swan colored red, the roots of certain grasses, bark from the roots of cedar trees, and hair of the buffalo. "from this combination proceeds a wakân influence so powerful that no human being unassisted can resist it." wonderful indeed must be the magic power of these dakota druids to lead such a man aa the rev. s. r. riggs to say of them: "by great shrewdness, untiring industry, and more or less of _actual demoniacal possession_, they convince great numbers of their fellows, and in the process are convinced _themselves_, of their sacred character and office." tahkoo wakân, pp. - : ] [footnote : gâh-ma-na-tek-wâhk--_the river of many falls_--is the ojibway name of the river commonly called kaministiguia, near the mouth of which is situate fort william, on the site of duluth's old fort. the view on thunder-bay is one of the grandest in america. thunder-cap, with its sleeping stone-giant, looms up into the heavens. here _ka-be-bon-ikka_--the ojibway's god of storms, flaps his huge wings and makes the thunder. from this mountain he sends forth the rain, the snow, the hail, the lightning and the tempest. a vast giant, turned to stone by his magic, lies asleep at his feet. the island called by the ojibways the _mak-i-nak_ (the turtle) from its tortoise-like shape, lifts its huge form in the distance. some "down-east" yankee, called it "pie-island," from its (to his hungry imagination) fancied resemblance to a pumpkin pie, and the name, like all bad names, _sticks_. mckay's mountain on the main-land, a perpendicular rock more than a thousand feet high, up-heaved by the throes of some vast volcano, and numerous other bold and precipitous head lands, and rock-built islands, around which roll the sapphire-blue waters of the fathomless bay, present some of the most magnificent views to be found on either continent.] [footnote : the mission of the holy ghost--at la pointe on the isle waug-a-bá-me--(winding view) in the beautiful bay of cha-quam-egon�was founded by the jesuits about the year , and father renè menard was the first priest at this point. after he was lost in the wilderness, father glaude allouëz permanently established ihe mission in . the famous father marquette, who took allouëz's place, sept. . , writing to his superior, thus describes the dakotas: "the nadouessi are the iroquois of this country, beyond la pointe, _but less faithless, and never attack till attacked._ their language is entirely different from the huron and algonquin. they have many villages, but are widely scattered. they have very extraordinary customs. they principally use the calumet. they do not speak at great feasts, and when a stranger arrives give him to eat of a wooden fork, as we would a child. all the lake tribes make war on them, but with small success. they have false oats, (wild rice) use little canoes, _and keep their word strictly_." neill's hist. minn., p. .] [footnote : michâbo--the good, great spirit of the algonkins. in autumn, in the moon of the falling leaf, ere he composes himself to his winter's sleep, he fills his great pipe and takes a god-like smoke. the balmy clouds from his pipe float over the hills and woodland, filling the air with the haze of "indian summer." brinton's myths of the new world, p. .] [footnote : pronounced _kah-thah-gah_--literally, _the place of waves and foam_. this was the principal village of the isantee band of dakotas two hundred years ago, and was located at the falls of st. anthony, which the dakotas called the _ha-ha_--pronounced _rhah-rhah_--the _loud, laughing waters_. the dakotas believed that the falls were in the centre of the earth. here dwelt the great unktéhee, the creator of the earth and man; and from this place a path led to the spirit-land. duluth undoubtedly visited kathága in the year . in his "memoir" (archives of the ministry of the marine) addressed to seignelay, , he says: "on the nd of july, , i had the honor to plant his majesty's arms in the great village of the nadouecioux called izatys, where never had a frenchman been, etc." _izatys_ is here used not as the name of the village, but as the name of the band--the isantees. _nadouecioux_ was a name given the dakotas generally by the early french traders and the ojibways. see shea's hennepin's description of louisiana pp. : and . the villages of the dakotas were not permanent towns. they were hardly more than camping grounds, occupied at intervals and for longer or shorter periods, as suited the convenience of the hunters: yet there were certain places, like mille lacs, the falls of st. anthony, kapóza (near st. paul), remnica, (where the city of red wing now stands), and keúxa (or keóza) on the site of the city of winona, so frequently occupied by several of the bands as to be considered their chief villages respectively.] footnotes to the sea-gull: [footnote : kay-óshk is the ojibway name of sea-gull.] [footnote : gitchee--great,--gumee--sea or lake,--lake superior; also often called ochipwè gítchee gúmee, great lake (or sea) of the ojibways.] [footnote : né-mè-shómis--my grandfather. "in the days of my grandfather" is the ojibway's preface to all his traditions and legends.] [footnote : waub--white---o-jeeg,--fisher, (a furred animal.) white fisher was the name of a noted chippewa chief who lived on the south shore of lake superior many years ago. schoolcraft married one of his descendants.] [footnote : ma-kwâ or mush-kwa--the bear.] [footnote : the te-ke-nâh-gun is a board upon one side of which a sort of basket is fastened or woven with thongs of skin or strips of cloth. in this the babe is placed, and the mother carries it on her back. in the wigwam the tekenagun is often suspended by a cord to the lodge-poles and the mother swings her babe in it.] [footnote : wabóse--the rabbit. penay, the pheasant. at certain seasons the pheasant drums with his wings.] [footnote : kaug, the porcupine. kenéw. the war-eagle.] [footnote : ka-be-bón-ik-ka is the god of storms, thunder, lightning, etc. his home is on thunder-cap at thunder-bay, lake superior. by his magic, the giant that lies on the mountain was turned to stone. he always sends warnings before he finally sends the severe cold of winter, in order to give all creatures time to prepare for it.] [footnote : kewaydin or kewaytin, is the north-wind or north-west wind.] [footnote : algónkin is the general name applied to all tribes that speak the ojibway language or dialects of it.] [footnote : this is the favorite "love-broth" of the ojibway squaws. the warrior who drinks it immediately falls desperately in love with the woman who gives it to him. various tricks are devised to conceal the nature of the "medicine" and to induce the warrior to drink it; but when it is mixed with a liberal quantity of "fire-water" it is considered irresistable.] [footnote : translation: woe-is-me! woe-is-me! great spirit, behold me! look, father; have pity upon me! woe-is-me! woe-is-me!] [footnote : snow-storms from the north-west.] [footnote : the ojibways, like the dakotas, call the _via lactea_ (milky way) the pathway of the spirits.] [footnote : shingebis, the diver, is the only water-fowl that remains about lake superior all winter. see schoolcraft's hiawatha legends, p. .] [footnote : waub-ésè--the white swan.] [footnote : pé-boân, winter, is represented as an old man with long white hair and beard.] [footnote : se-gún is spring or summer. this beautiful allegory has been "done into verse" by longfellow in _hiawatha_. i took my version from the lips of an old chippewa chief. i have compared it with schoolcraft's version, from which mr. longfellow evidently took his.] [footnote : nah--look, see. nashké--behold.] [footnote : kee-zis--the sun,--the father of life. waubúnong--or waub-ó-nong--is the white land or land of light,--the sun-rise, the east.] [footnote : the bridge of stars spans the vast sea of the skies, and the sun and moon walk over on it.] [footnote : the miscodeed is a small white flower with a pink border. it is the earliestblooming wild-flower on the shores of lake superior, and belongs to the crocus family.] [footnote : the ne-be-naw-baigs, are water-spirits; they dwell in caverns in the depths of the lake, and in some respects resemble the unktéhees of the dakotas.] [footnote : ogema, chief,--ogema-kwa--female chief. among the algonkin tribes women are sometimes made chiefs. net-nó-kwa, who adopted tanner as her son, was oge-mâ-kwa of a band of ottawas. see john tanner's narrative, p. .] [footnote : the "bridge of souls" leads from the earth over dark and stormy waters to the spirit-land. the "dark river" seems to have been a part of the superstition of all nations.] [footnote : the jossakeeds of the ojibways are sooth-sayers who are able, by the aid of spirits, to read the past as well as the future.] transcriber's note bold text is indicated with equals signs, =like this=. illustration captions in {braces} have been added by the transcriber for the convenience of the reader. prairie smoke (second edition, revised) by melvin randolph gilmore bismarck, north dakota a collection of lore of the prairies copyright by melvin randolph gilmore [illustration: {map to show distribution of tribes}] map to show the distribution of the native tribes in what is now the state of north dakota and adjacent states. the native tribes of north dakota are of three different linguistic stocks or races. these are the algonkian, siouan and caddoan. the algonkian race is represented in north dakota by one nation, the chippewa or ojibwa. the siouan race is represented within our state boundaries by three nations, the dakota (sometimes called sioux), the mandan, and the hidatsa (who are also called gros ventre and minnetari). the caddoan race is represented by one nation, the arikara. other nations of the caddoan race are the pawnees, the wichita and the waco farther south. the domain of the dakota nation comprised southern minnesota, northwest iowa, almost all of south dakota, part of northwest nebraska, eastern wyoming, and the southern part of north dakota. the chippewa domain was around the west end of lake superior in northern wisconsin, northern minnesota, and part of northeastern north dakota. the mandans, hidatsas and arikaras were three nations allied together for mutual protection against the encroachments of their common enemies who pressed upon them from all sides. the mandan as an independent nation held domain along both sides of the missouri river in what is now the central part of north dakota. the hidatsa were to the east of the mandan. the arikara were, some centuries ago, in northern nebraska, but migrated gradually up the river. finally they were so pressed by the incursion of the dakotas from the east that they joined forces with the mandans, who allowed them place in their country in exchange for the added strength which their numbers gave against the common enemy. the hidatsas and the mandans had already, before this, made alliance, so now the three nations were allied in the region of the upper missouri river within what is now north dakota, extending westward a little into what is now montana. the several domains of the various native tribes or nations within north dakota and adjacent states are represented on this map as follows: dakota by horizontal lines, chippewa by vertical lines, mandan-hidatsa-arikara alliance by oblique cross hatching, ponka by oblique lines slanting to the left, omaha by oblique lines slanting to the right, pawnee by horizontal and vertical cross-hatching, oto by cross-hatching of lines horizontal, oblique left and right. dedication to the real pioneers of the great plains: to those whose questing spirit first sought out the wonders and the beauties of this land;--its vast reaches, league upon league, of grassland, verdant in springtime, sere and red and brown in autumn; its inviting valleys and its forbidding buttes;--to those whose moccasined feet made the first human footprints upon the turf of these prairies and upon the sands of these river margins; whose self-reliance made them the first to breast the current of these streams; whose humble footpaths over the land have now become the transcontinental highways of the world's travel and trade; to those who first slaked thirst at these cool, clear watersprings, whose hunger was first satisfied by the fruits of this land, and who, in eating and in drinking, devoutly gave thanks to our tender mother earth for her bounties, receiving them gratefully as sacred gifts to be prudently used and thankfully enjoyed, and never to be wasted; who knew and loved this land in all its spacious extent, east to west and south to north; who reverenced its sacred places, the holy watersprings, the grand and silent hills, the mysterious caves, the eery precipices,--all places where their fathers had with prayer and fasting sought and obtained the favour of the gods, and where the gods had granted revelations and given wisdom to their fathers; to those whose eyes first beheld this land in its virgin beauty, fresh and joyous, unscarred and unspoiled, clean and wholesome, animated with exuberance of life of many species of both plant and animal in wonderful balance and adjustment, spontaneously replenished; and who held it a form of sacrilege to violate or in any way endanger the overthrow of that delicate balance of nature;--to those first inhabitants of this land which we now inhabit. that something of their appreciation, of their love and reverence for the land and its native life, something of their respect for its sacred places and holy associations; that something of their sense of its charm, of its beauty and wonder, may come to us; that we may the more worthily occupy and more sympathetically enjoy our tenure of this land. to these ends and purposes this book is hopefully and earnestly dedicated. introduction many persons are ever seeking outside of themselves and in some distant place or time for interest and cheer. they are always discontented and complaining. they fancy if they were but in some other place or other circumstances they would be happy. but this is a vain fancy. each of us carries with him the germs of happiness or of unhappiness. those of unhappy disposition will be unhappy wherever they may be. cheer is not in environment, but in the individual. one who is of a cheerful, understanding disposition will find interest and cheer wherever he may be. robert louis stevenson well said "the world is so full of a number of things i think we should all be as happy as kings." when there are so many interesting things in the world, so many in any given place, so many more than one can ever fully know or enjoy in the short span of human lifetime, how can one ever be overtaken by dullness? if dullness seem to enfold us, be sure it is we that are dull; it is because our minds are lazy and our eyes unseeing. there is enough of interest about us wherever we may be to engage our attention if we open our eyes to it. if we have initiative and independence of mind we shall find interest everywhere; but if we depend upon others or neglect what is about us in desire for what is distant we shall never be content. one greater than robert louis stevenson said "the kingdom of heaven is within you." it is with the purpose of calling attention to some of the many fascinatingly interesting things which we have all about us on the prairie plains and in the hills and valleys of our own state, and perhaps in our own neighborhood, that this volume is produced. the myths which pertain to the hills, valleys, springs and streams in our own state and in our own neighborhood must be of interest to us when we look with our own eyes upon the actual places to which these myths pertain. and these myths of the country in which we live are at least equal in beauty and interest to the myths of the greeks, and to the old teutonic myths of thor, odin, and freya; or even to our own old british myths which we have from our druidic ancestors. and however beautiful and interesting in itself a native tree or flower or other plant may be, however engaging to the attention may be a native bird or beast, how much more so when we think of what this bird or beast or flower or tree has been in the lives of generations of our fellow creatures who have lived here and loved this land and its teeming native life long before we ever saw it. so, it is with the purpose of directing the attention of our people to the wealth of lore, of legend and story and myth, and of wonder and beauty which lies all about us here if we but look and listen, that this little volume is presented. the title of this book is suggested by one of the popular names of the flower which is the subject of one of the stories of this volume. this flower, the earliest of all to bloom in springtime over all the northern prairies, has a number of popular names, among which are pasque flower, gosling flower, and prairie smoke flower. the latter name is suggested by the nebulous appearance presented by a patch of the bluish flowers blooming upon a prairie hillside in early spring, while all other vegetation is still brown and dead. at such a time, with all their blossoms tremulous in the spring wind, they appear to the view like a pulsing cloud of grayish-blue smoke hovering low over the ground. besides the reference to this dearly-loved prevernal flower the term "prairie smoke" also connotes a number of other engaging conceptions. to one who has lived upon the prairie this term will recall lively recollections of both sight and scent. it will recall to the imagination memories of rolling billows of smoke which he has seen covering miles of advancing lines of prairie fire; he will see again in memory the tiny blue spirals of smoke showing where some solid particles still smoulder hours after the line of fire has passed on leaving behind a vast blackened waste. it will recall to him also the rare, intangible blue haze which for days after such a fire lay like a veil over all the plain, and through which the sun appeared like a great red disk hanging in the sky, while the air was redolent with an indescribable tang. again, it brings to mind the wisps of smoke which once curled upward in the quiet summer air from stovepipes projecting from the roofs of prairie sodhouses, or which on snowy winter mornings hung above them like thin white scarfs against a vast background of blue overhanging a white world. it will bring to mind also other days and other scenes of this same prairie country, when there might be seen wreaths of smoke issuing from the domes of the hemispherical-shaped houses of villages of mandans, pawnees, or omahas, upon the hills and river terraces, their laboriously tilled cornfields and gardens in the fertile alluvial valleys near by. or, again, it will recall the scene of an encampment of some of these people out upon the prairie on a buffalo hunt in quest of their meat supply. the encampment is a circle of conical tents, a circle of perhaps a half mile in diameter. before each tent the evening fire is twinkling in the dusk upon the green of the prairie, a circle of friendly lights, each the centre of a family group, while a few stars begin to twinkle in the blue of the sky above, and the sunset colours glow in the horizon. some or all of these sights and scents, and others also, will present themselves according to the experience of the one who comprehends the title "prairie smoke." so it is hoped that to each one who reads this little volume it may indeed be as a "wisp of prairie smoke," and shall bring a real savour of the prairie and at least a slight realisation of what the prairie was before it was swept by the destructive fires of change. land and people nature and health the philosophy of health and wholesomeness of the native americans, the indians, was to live in accordance with nature and by coming as much as possible into direct physical contact with the elements in nature, such as the sunshine, the rain and snow, the air and earth. they felt the need and desire to be in frequent and immediate contact with "mother earth," to receive upon their persons the strong rays of the sun, the restorative efficacy of the winds from the clean sky, and to bathe daily in living streams. the priest of a certain ritual of the pawnee nation visited washington. he admired the washington monument as he viewed it from the capitol. when he went over to visit the monument he measured the dimensions of its base by pacing; then he stood up and gazed toward its summit, noting its height. then he went inside; but when he was asked whether he would walk up the stairway or go on the lift, he said: "i will not go up. white men like to pile up stones, and they may go to the top of them; i will not. i have ascended the mountains made by tirawa." (tirawa is the pawnee name of god.) some years ago mr. louis j. hill took a party of people of the blackfoot tribe to new york city as his guests. they were interested in the sight of the great engineering feats as manifested in the great structures of the city. but they were unwilling to be cooped up in the rooms of the hotel, so they made arrangements to be allowed to set up their tents upon the hotel roof so that they might at least have the natural sunlight and the outdoor air. in an ancient pawnee ritual there is a hymn which begins with the words, "now behold; hither comes the ray of our father sun; it cometh over all the land, passeth in the lodge, us to touch and give us strength." and in another stanza of this hymn, referring to the passing of the sun, it continues, "now behold where has passed the ray of our father sun; around the lodge the ray has passed and left its blessing there, touching us, each one of us." so it was ever the aim to live in accord with nature, to commune often with nature. a word of admonition from the wisdom lore of the menomini tribe says, "look often at the moon and the stars." and the winnebagoes have a wise saying: "holy mother earth, the trees and all nature, are witnesses of your thoughts and deeds." another admonition of winnebago wisdom is: "reverence the unseen forces that are always near you and are always trying to lead you right." spirit of life in the following verses dr. a. mcg. beede of fort yates, north dakota, has translated a prayer he once heard uttered by an old man of the dakota nation who had just come from bathing in the river and was standing upon a hill giving expression to his feeling of adoration: spirit of life in things above and lovelier in things below, we pray to thee, all-being-love, spontaneous in our hearts to grow. our father life, we live in thee and pray for glory which is thine, and by our living may we be as thou art in the life divine. the trees and flowers and watersprings are singing good old songs of mirth, so may we sing while music brings the good old joy o'er all the earth. spirit of life, sing on, sing on; sing till our aching hearts find rest and anxious fear is past and gone, and like the rivers we are blest. the earth is singing, hark the song; the whispering breezes floating by, the waterstreams gliding along, reflecting faces in the sky. spirit of life, we worship thee, with waterstreams and trees and flowers; so may our new-born spirits be as thou art, and thy glory ours. attitude towards native life people of european race resident in america, (americans we call ourselves) have sentimental regard toward the plants and animals native to europe, some of which, domesticated by our ancestors, we have brought with us to america. but most of our people have not developed such sentiments toward the plants and animals native to america. literary allusions, songs and stories refer to trees, flowers, birds and other forms of life pertaining to our old home lands in europe, but not to those of america. people of our race have been inhabitants of america now for three centuries, and still we have not made ourselves at home here; we have not formed sentimental attachment to the land and to its native forms of life. it is a pity for a people not to be so attached to the country in which they live that their sentiments shall be first of all for the forms of life that are native to their own country. otherwise there is a disharmony which lessens happiness and is harmful in many ways. lacking friendly feeling for the plants and animals native to america there has been a tendency to destroy these things in a ruthless manner; and this can hardly be prevented by law unless we can awaken sentimental feelings for the native forms of life in america such as that which our ancestors had for forms of life native in europe. indians, the native americans, have friendly sentiments, and even feelings of reverence for the forms of life native to america. i once asked an old omaha what was the feeling of indians when they saw the white men wantonly killing buffaloes. as soon as he comprehended my question he dropped his head and was silent for a moment, seeming to be overcome by sadness; and then in a tone as though he were ashamed that such a thing could have been done by human beings, he answered: "it seemed to us a most wicked, awful thing." most white men can not comprehend the sense of pain experienced by indians at seeing the native forms of life in america ruthlessly and wantonly destroyed with no compunction on the part of the destroyers. and this destruction of the forms of native american life by white people gave to indians a sense of a fearful void in nature, coupled with a feeling of grief, of horror, of distress and pain. it was not fundamentally the thought of the loss of their food supply, but the contemplation of the dislocation of the nice balance of nature, the destruction of world symmetry. white horse, an old man of the omaha tribe in nebraska, said to me in august, : "when i was a youth the country was beautiful. along the rivers were belts of timberland, where grew cottonwoods, maples, elms, oaks, hickory and walnut trees, and many other kinds. also there were various vines and shrubs. and under all these grew many good herbs and beautiful flowering plants. on the prairie was the waving green grass and many other pleasant plants. in both the woodland and the prairie i could see the trails of many kinds of animals and hear the cheerful songs of birds. when i walked abroad i could see many forms of life, beautiful living creatures of many kinds which the master of life had placed here; and these were, after their manner walking, flying, leaping, running, feeding, playing all about. now the face of all the land is changed and sad. the living creatures are gone. i see the land desolate, and i suffer unspeakable sadness. sometimes i wake in the night and i feel as though i should suffocate from the pressure of this awful feeling of loneliness." indians generally were shrewd and discerning observers of the life and habits of plants and animals. the careful study of plants and animals was a considerable part of the courses of study in their system of education, which included much more than is supposed by persons who have not made themselves acquainted with indian life. they were well informed in plant and animal ecology, and in knowledge of range of species. they took cognizance of the habits of animals in the animals' dwelling places. an old indian once told me how a muskrat lays up stores of food in his house. he compared the appearance of the musk-rat's stores to that of a grocer's goods on the shelves of his store. many old indians have told me what kinds of food are stored by different species of animals which lay up stores. they often speak of such animals as lay up food stores as being civilized animal nations, and of those which do not make such provision as being uncivilized. they attribute great wisdom to certain species of animals. this disposition results from discerning observation of the animals' works and ways. the beaver notably is reputed to be very wise and industrious. indians often sought to gain the favor and learn the wisdom of various animal species by endeavoring to place themselves en rapport with the guardian genius of the species. indians' appreciation and love of their homeland in the rituals of the various tribes may be found numerous expressions of the love and reverence which the people had for holy mother earth in general and for their own homeland in particular. and in their thought of their homeland they did not regard it as a possession which they owned, but they regarded themselves as possessed by their homeland, their country, and that they owed her love and service and reverence. the following song is found in an ancient ritual of the pawnee nation which is given entire in the twenty-second annual report of the bureau of american ethnology, part . this song plainly reflects the topography and the scenery of the country of the pawnee nation, that part of the great plains traversed by the solomon, republican, platte, loup, and niobrara rivers. song to the trees and streams i dark against the sky yonder distant line lies before us. trees we see, long the line of trees, bending, swaying in the breeze. ii bright with flashing light yonder distant line runs before us, swiftly runs, swift the river runs, winding, flowing o'er the land. iii hark! o hark! a sound, yonder distant sound comes to greet us, singing comes, soft the river's song, rippling gently 'neath the trees. in the foregoing song one can hear the constant murmur of the summer south wind as it blows in that country for days, and see the broad stretch of the great level land, gently undulating in places, with its eastward-flowing streams bordered by zones of trees, the timbered zones along the stream courses being the only forest land in that country. thrilling escape of a war party outnumbered and surrounded by their enemies _a pawnee story_ in the northwest part of nebraska there is a high butte with perpendicular sides like the walls of a great building. because of the shape of this butte, and because it is composed mostly of a soft rock or hard, firm clay, it is called court-house rock by the white people. of course it has other names among the indian tribes of that region. this great butte stands out boldly upon the high plain and can be seen for many miles in all directions overlooking the platte river. the top is almost flat and all sides but one are almost vertical, and are bare of vegetation, worn smooth by rain and by wind, impossible to climb. but there is a way on one side by which a strong man can make his way to the top. this high lonely butte stands on the borderland between the country of the pawnees and the country of the dakotas. the dakotas and the pawnees were almost always at war with each other. many years ago a pawnee war party was camped near this butte when they were surprised by a war party of dakotas stronger in numbers than their own party. in the fight which ensued the pawnees were unable to drive their enemies off, but were compelled to take refuge by climbing to the top of the butte. the dakotas were unable to follow the pawnees upon the butte, for the pawnees were able to guard the single narrow path. but neither could the pawnees escape again upon the open plain for the dakotas securely guarded the descent and could easily kill one after another all who might attempt to come down that way. so it seemed only a question of time before all the pawnees must die of hunger and thirst upon the top of the rock, or come down and give themselves up to death at the hands of their enemies. the camps of the dakotas surrounded the butte, laying siege to it to starve the pawnees out. the pawnees were in a woeful plight. as the sun rose and traveled across the sky they could look away for miles and perhaps see flocks of antelopes grazing upon the plain, while their own stomachs were pinched with hunger; and some miles to the south they could see the flashing sunlight gleaming upon the waters of the platte river, while close at hand, at the foot of the butte, they could see their enemies eating and drinking, which could but serve to aggravate their own hunger and thirst. and at night when the scorching sun had sunk in the west they might look away to the eastward, in which direction their homes lay many days' march distant in the beautiful and fruitful valley of the loup river; and as they looked the twinkling stars appearing one by one near the eastern horizon must have made them think of the evening camp fires of their home people. and at night the grim chill of the rare air of the high butte gripped their bodies in its clutch. and all the while they must be very vigilant against their enemies to prevent being overtaken. they all suffered severely, but the captain of the company suffered most of all; for added to the bodily sufferings which he endured in common with his men, he also suffered extreme mental anguish, for he felt his responsibility on account of his men. because they had trusted his leadership and had put themselves under his orders it seemed that now they must all die a horrible death. for himself he dreaded not death so much as to be the cause of the loss of his brave men. to him this was far more bitter than death. in the night-time he would go away from the others and cry out in fervent prayer to tirawa, begging his help, begging that he would show him some way to save his men and bring them off safe. and while he was thus praying, he heard a voice saying, "look carefully and see if you can find a place where you shall be able to climb down from this rock and save your men and yourself." so he prayed earnestly all night, and when daylight came he went along the edges of the butte looking carefully to see if there might be a place where some way might be found by which to go down. at last he found a jutting point of rock near the cliff edge, and standing above the level. below this point the cliff side was smooth and vertical. it occurred to him that this point might be made a means of support from which the men might let themselves down the face of the cliff by a rope. when night came again, after he had posted the sentries to guard the place of ascent from the enemy, he returned to the point of rock and with his knife he cut away soft weathered rock at its base to make a secure place of fastening for a rope. then he gathered secretly all the lariats which the company had. these he tied together and then, tying one end securely to the rock which he had prepared, he carefully paid out the rope and found to his joy that it reached the ground below. he made a loop in the rope for his foot and then he let himself slowly down to the ground, then he climbed back again. when night came again he posted his sentries so that the enemy might see them at their posts on the side of the butte above the path, but when darkness had fully come they were all gradually withdrawn. quietly calling his men about him he explained his plan and told them how they might all save themselves. he sent his men down by the rope, one after another, beginning with the youngest and least important of the company, and so on up to the men of most importance. last of all the captain of the company himself came down. he and all his men crept quietly in the darkness through the dakota lines and escaped safely. the dakotas directed their vigilance mainly toward the other side of the butte where lay the only path, and that a very rugged one, between the base and the summit. the pawnees never knew how long the dakotas kept watch about the rock. a mandan monument in commemoration of an act of heroism it is a common instinct among all nations of the human race to preserve relics and record memorials of notable persons and events. such monuments vary with the different means and materials at hand. sometimes mounds of earth, sometimes boulders, sometimes cairns of stones, sometimes hewn stones, and various other devices have been used according to circumstances. there exists a monument to the memory of a mandan hero which has never before been described and published. the following account is from information given by several persons of the mandan, hidatsa and arikara tribes. the location of the monument is near the site of "fish-hook village" on the north side of the missouri river some twelve or fifteen miles east of elbowoods, north dakota. during the middle part of the th century the three tribes, arikara, hidatsa and mandan, lived together in alliance against their common enemies. their chief enemies were the dakota. so these three tribes built their three villages adjoining, making one compound village of three wards. the village lay upon a well-drained terrace of the missouri river, while their farms were laid out in the fertile alluvial "bottom" along the river both above and below the village. to the north of the village site lies a range of hills. the enemy many times made raids upon the village. they would approach under cover of the hills to the north and then steal close upon the village through the course of a ravine which skirted the northeast and north sides of the village. about sixty-six years ago such an attack was made by a war party of dakota. of the defenders of the village, two young mandans, brothers, named lefthand and redleaf, had been dismounted and their retreat cut off by the enemy. a brother of these two, whitecrow by name, saw the danger of lefthand and redleaf and rode out to their assistance. lefthand was killed and redleaf was defending the body from a dakota who was trying to take the scalp. redleaf shot at the dakota and missed him, the bullet going over the enemy's head and striking into the ground beyond him, the enemy being crouched low at the time of the shot. whitecrow rode in a circuit beyond these combatants and held off the attacking party of the enemy. he killed the dakota who was engaged in combat with his brother redleaf. then whitecrow picked up redleaf upon the horse with himself and carried him safely back to the village. after the enemy had been driven away the mandans went out and marked the course in which whitecrow had ridden to his brother's rescue, the spot where lefthand had been killed, the spot where redleaf had made his stand, the spot where the dakota was killed, and the spot where redleaf's bullet fired at the dakota, had struck the ground. the method used for marking these places was by removal of the sod leaving holes in the ground. to mark the course of whitecrow's horse the sod was removed in horse-track shaped sections consecutively from the point of advance from the village round the place of combat and returning to the village. the horse-track marks were made about two feet in diameter. all these marks commemorating the entire action, which took place about the year are still plainly evident, being renewed whenever they tend to become obliterated by weathering and by advancing vegetation. the legend of standing rock this story of standing rock is a legend of the arikara who once had their villages along the missouri river between the grand river and the cannonball river. afterwards, being harrassed by hostile incursions of the dakotas they abandoned this country to their enemies and moved farther up the missouri river, joining themselves in alliance with the mandans. one time there was a young girl in this tribe who was beautiful and amiable but not given to heedless, chattering, idle amusement. she was thoughtful and earnest and conversant with the ways of all the living creatures, the birds and the small mammals, and the trees and shrubs and flowers of the woodlands and of the prairies. she was in the habit of going to walk by herself to visit and commune with all these living creatures. she understood them better than most other people did, and they all were her friends. when she became of marriageable age she had many suitors, for she was beautiful and lovely in disposition. but to the young men who wooed her she answered, "i do not find it in my heart to marry any one. i am at home with the bird people, the four-footed people of the woods and prairies, with the people of the flower nations and the trees. i love to work in the cornfields in summer, and the sacred squash blossoms are my dear companions." finally her grandmother reasoned with her and told her that it was her duty to marry and to rear children to maintain the strength of the tribe. because of filial duty she finally said, when her grandmother continued to urge her to marry a certain young man of estimable worth who desired her for his wife, "well grandmother, i will obey you, but i tell you that good will not come of it. i am not as others are, and mother nature did not intend me for marriage." so she was married and went to the house already prepared for her by her husband. but three days later she came back to her mother's, house, appearing sad and downcast. she sat down without speaking. finally her grandmother said, "what is it, my child? is he not kind to you?" the girl answered, "oh, no, he is not unkind. he treated me well." and with that she sped away into the forest. her grandmother followed her after a little while, thinking that out among her beloved trees and plants she might open her heart and tell her what was the trouble. and this she did, explaining all the trouble to her grandmother. and she concluded her talk with her grandmother with these words, saying: "and so you see, grandmother, it is as i said when you urged me to marry. i was not intended for marriage. and now my heart is so sad. i should not have married. my spirit is not suited to the bounds of ordinary human living, and my husband is not to be blamed. he is honorable and kind. but i must go away and be with the children of nature." so her grandmother left her there where she was sitting by a clump of choke-cherries, having her sewing kit with her and her little dog by her side. she did not return home that night, so the next morning young men were sent to search for her. at last she was found sitting upon a hill out upon the prairie, and she was turned to stone from her feet to her waist. the young men hastened back to the village and reported to the officers who had sent them out. then the people were summoned by the herald and they all went out to the place where the young woman was. now they found she had become stone as far up as her breasts. then the priests opened the sacred bundle and took the sacred pipe which they filled and lighted and presented it to her lips so that thus she and they in turn smoking from the same pipe might be put in communion and accord with the spirit. but she refused the pipe, and said, "though i refuse the pipe it is not from disloyalty or because of unwillingness to be at one with my people; but i am different by nature. and you shall know my good will towards my people and my love and remembrance of them always, for whoever in summer time places by this stone a wild flower or a twig of a living tree in winter time or any such token of living, wonderful nature at any time, shall be glad in his heart, and shall have his desire to be in communion with the heart of nature." and as she said these words she turned completely into stone, and her little dog, sitting at her feet and leaning close against her was also turned into stone with her. and this stone is still to be seen, and is revered by the people. it is from this stone that the country around fort yates, north dakota, is called standing rock. the holy hill pahuk each of the nations and tribes of indians had certain places within its own domain which they regarded as sacred, and to which they accordingly paid becoming reverence. these places were sometimes watersprings, sometimes peculiar hills, sometimes caves, sometimes rocky precipices, sometimes dark, wooded bluffs. within the ancient domain of the pawnee nation in nebraska and northwest kansas there is a cycle of five such sacred places. the chief one of these five mystic places is called pahuk by the pawnee. from its nature it is unique, being distinctly different from any other hill in all the pawnee country. pahuk stands in a bend of the platte river where the stream flows from the west in a sweep abruptly turning toward the southeast. the head of the hill juts out into the course of the river like a promontory or headland, which is the literal meaning of the pawnee word "pahuk." the north face of the bluff from the water's edge to the summit is heavily wooded. among the timber are many cedar trees, so that in winter, when the deciduous trees are bare, the bluff is dark with the mass of evergreen cedar. the cedar is a sacred tree, so its presence adds mystery to the place. the pawnee sometimes also speak of this hill as nahura waruksti, which means sacred or mysterious animals. this allusion to the sacred or mysterious animals has reference to the myth which pertains to this place. all the other tribes throughout the great plains region also knew of the veneration in which this hill is held by the pawnee, so they, too, pay it great respect, and many individuals of the other tribes have personally made pilgrimages to this holy place. the people of the dakota nation call it paha wakan, "the holy hill." the pawnee speak of the animal world collectively as nahurak. it was believed that the interrelations of all living beings, plants, animals and human beings, are essentially harmonious, and that all species take a wholesome interest in each other's welfare. it was believed also that under certain conditions ability was given to different orders of living creatures to communicate with men for man's good. the before-mentioned five sacred places of the pawnee country were nahurak lodges. within these mystic secret places the animals, nahurak, held council. according to one version the names of the five nahurak lodges are pahuk, nakiskat, tsuraspako, kitsawitsak, and pahua. pahuk is a bluff on the south side of the platte river, a few miles west of the city of fremont, nebraska; nakiskat, (black trees) is an island in the platte river near central city, nebraska, dark with cedar trees; tsuraspako (girl hill) is a hill on the south side of the platte river opposite grand island, nebraska. it is called girl hill because it was customary when a buffalo surround was made in its vicinity for the young girls to stay upon this hill during the surround. the hill is said to be in the form of an earth-lodge, even to the extended vestibule. kitsawitsak, which white people call wakonda springs, is not far from the solomon river near beloit, kansas. the name kitsawitsak means "water on the bank." pahua is said to be a spring near the republican river in nebraska. of these five places pahuk was chief, and the nahurak councils of the other lodges acknowledged the superior authority of the council at pahuk. there are many stories of the wonderful powers resident in these sacred places. one of these tells of the restoration to life of a boy who had been killed. the story is that a certain man of the skidi tribe of the pawnee nation desired to gain the favour of tirawa (pawnee name of god). he thought that if he sacrificed something which he valued most highly that tirawa might grant him some wonderful gift. there were so many things in the world which he did not understand, and which he wished very much to know. he hoped that tirawa might grant him revelations, that he might know and understand many things which were hidden from the people. he strongly desired knowledge, and he thought that if he sacrificed his young son, who was dear to him, and the pride of his heart, that tirawa might take pity on him and grant him his desire. he felt very sad to think of killing his son, and he meditated a long time upon the matter. finally he was convinced in his own mind that tirawa would be pleased with his sacrifice, and that then the good gifts he desired would be given to him, and that many things now dark to his understanding would be made clear, and that he should have ability given him to do many things which were now beyond his power. one day this man took his boy with him and walked out from the village as though on some errand. they walked to the platte river. after they had gone a long distance from the village, as they were walking by the riverside, no other persons being near, the man drew out his knife and stabbed the boy so that he was quickly dead. the man then dropped the body of the dead boy over the bank. after a time he returned to the village, and went into his own lodge and sat down. after a while he asked his wife "where is the boy?" she said "why, he went out with you." the man said "i was out of the village, but the boy was not with me." he went out and inquired of his neighbors, and then all through the village, but of course the boy could not be found. then for some days a general search was made for the boy, but no trace of him was found. after this the family mourned for the lost boy. it was now time for the summer buffalo hunt, so in a few days the people set out for the buffalo grounds, and the father and mother of the boy also went. after the boy's body was dropped into the river it was carried away down-stream by the current, sometimes being rolled along in shallow water at the edge of sandbars and again it would be turned over and over in the whirlpool of some deep hole in the channel, for the platte river is a peculiar stream, having a swift current but a wide course with deep holes and many sandbars. after a time the body floated down nearly to pahuk. two buzzards were sitting on the edge of a bluff, gazing over the water. so, sitting there, one of the buzzards stretched out his neck and looked up the river. he thought he saw something in the water floating down-stream. he stretched his neck again and looked, and turned to the other buzzard and said "i see a body." then they both looked towards the object in the water, stretching out their necks and gazing intently. they saw that the object was the body of the boy. the first one said "what shall we do about this?" the second one said "let us carry the body down to pahuk, to the hill where nahurak waruksti is." so they both flew down to the floating body and got under it and lifted it upon their backs and carried it to the top of the bluff called pahuk, over the secret cave of the nahurak waruksti, and there they placed it upon the ground. then the two buzzards stood quietly gazing upon the body of the boy where they had laid it down upon the ground. this cave far under the hill was the council lodge of the animals. there sat the councilmen of all kinds of animals and birds, great and small, which were native to that country. there were the buffalo, the beaver, elk, deer, antelope, otter, muskrat, wolf, bear, fox, wildcat, badger, bean mice, and many other kinds of animals. and there were the swan, the loon, goose, duck, wild turkey, prairie chicken, quail, heron, bittern, crane, plover, kildeer, meadowlark, blackbird, owls, hawks, swallows, crow, chickadee, woodpeckers, grackle, purple martin, and many other kinds of birds. there were also snakes, turtles, toads and frogs. these were the nahurak people, the nahurak waruksti, the sacred animals. and the kingfisher was a messenger and errand man for the nahurak council. now it happened when the buzzards brought the body of the young man and laid it down on the top of pahuk, the kingfisher, who was flying about over the river on business for the nahurak, was flying by. he stopped and looked at the body. he already knew all that had happened, and he was moved with compassion for the boy. so he flew down at once to the water at the foot of pahuk and dived in at the entrance of the nahurak lodge. he spoke to the assembly of the nahurak and told them all that had happened and said in conclusion, "and the poor boy is up there on the hill. i hope you will have pity on him and will do what you can for him. i wish you would bring him to life again." when the kingfisher, the messenger, had finished speaking the nahurak held serious council on the matter to decide what they should do. but after they had meditated long on the question, and each had spoken, they still could not decide the matter. the kingfisher urged the matter, asking for a favourable decision, saying, "come, do take pity on him and restore him to life." but they could not come to a decision. at last the chief of the council said, "no, messenger, we are unable to decide now. you must go to the other nahurak lodges and find out what they have to say about it." the kingfisher said "i go," and flew swiftly out from the lodge and up the river to nakiskat, the nahurak lodge near lone tree. there he brought the matter before the council and pleaded for the boy as he had done at pahuk, and told them that he was sent from pahuk to ask the council at nakiskat for their decision. so the nahurak here at nakiskat talked over the matter, but at last they said to the kingfisher "we are unable to decide. we leave it to the council at pahuk." then the kingfisher flew to the lodge at tsuraspako, then to kitsawitsak, and at last to pahua, and at each place the nahurak council considered the matter carefully and talked about it, but at each place the same answer was given. they all said "it is too much for us. we cannot decide what should be done. it is for the council at pahuk to decide." after the messenger had visited all these lodges and had laid the matter before all of them, receiving from each the same answer, he flew as swiftly as he could back to the lodge at pahuk and reported what the other lodges had said. they all recognized the council at pahuk as the head council, and deferred the matter to them for decision. but it had already been once considered by this council, so the matter was now brought before the supreme council of pahuk. this was a council of four chiefs of the pahuk council who sat as judges to give final consideration and decision. these judges now reconsidered the matter, and finally, when they had talked it over, they said to the kingfisher, "now, messenger, we will not decide this question, but will leave it to you. you shall make the decision." the kingfisher very quickly gave his decision. he said "it is my desire that this poor boy be restored to life. i hope you will all have pity on him and do what you can for him." then all the nahurak arose and went out from the council lodge and went up to the top of pahuk where the body of the boy lay. they formed in order and stood around the boy and prayed to the higher powers, and at last the boy drew breath, then after a time he breathed again, then his breath began to be regular. finally he opened his eyes and sat up and looked around in a confused manner. when he saw all the animals standing around him he was puzzled and bewildered. he said to himself, "why, my father killed me by the riverside, but here i am in the midst of this multitude of animals. what does it mean?" then the head chief of the nahurak council spoke to him kindly and reassured him. he was asked to rise and go with the animals into the council lodge. when all had gone in and were seated the four judges conferred together, then the chief of the four stood up and said, "my people, we have restored this boy to life, but he is poor and forlorn and needy. let us do something for him. let us teach him all we know, and impart to him our mysterious powers." the nahurak were all pleased at this proposal and manifested their approval. then the nahurak showed hospitality and kind attention to the poor boy as their guest. he was shown a place to bathe and rest. when he had rested, food was brought to him. so he was entertained and treated kindly for the full season, and he was instructed by all the animals in turn and they taught him their secret arts of healing and imparted to him all their wonderful powers. so he remained with them at pahuk till autumn. autumn is a beautiful season at pahuk, and in all the region of the platte, the loup, the republican, and the solomon rivers in nebraska and kansas embraced by the cycle of the five nahurak lodges. at that season in that country the sun casts a mellow golden light from the sky, while the land is emblazed with the brilliance of the sunflowers and goldenrod. and then the air is quiet and restful. so one day at this season the nahurak said to the boy, "it is now the time when the swallows, the blackbirds, the meadowlarks, and other kinds of birds will be gathering into flocks to fly away to the south-land for the winter. the beavers are cutting trees and saplings to store the branches under water for their winter food supply of bark; they are also gathering into their houses certain kinds of roots for food. the muskrats are repairing their houses and are storing in them the tubers of the water-lilies and of the arrow-leaf and of other kinds of plants for their winter supply. in the edge of the timber, where the ground beans grow, the bean mice are making their store-houses and filling them with ground beans and artichokes. and your people have returned from the buffalo hunt with a good supply of dried meat and hides. they are now busy at home gathering and storing their crops of corn, of beans, and of squashes and pumpkins. we have this past summer instructed you in our arts of healing and other learning, and have imparted to you our mysterious powers, and have taught you about our ways of living. you are now competent to use for the good of your people the remedies and perform the mysteries which were given to us by tirawa, and which we have now given to you. so you may now return to the village of your people. go to the chiefs of the village and tell them what the nahurak have done for you, and say to them that the people are to bring together gifts of dried buffalo meat and dried corn and dried choke-cherries, and other kinds of food; of robes and leggings and moccasins embroidered with porcupine quills; and of tobacco for incense. all these things the people are to send by you as gifts to the nahurak at pahuk in recognition of the favour which the nahurak showed to you." so the boy parted from his animal friends at pahuk, and promised to return and visit them, and to bring them presents to show his thankfulness and the thankfulness of his people for what the animals had done for him. he traveled on up the platte river and reached the village of his people in the night. he went to his father's house. he found his father and mother asleep and the fire had burned low. there was only a little light from the coals. he went to his mother's bed and touched her shoulder and spoke to her to waken her. he said "it is i. i have come back." when his mother saw him and heard his voice she was surprised, but she was glad-hearted to see her boy again. so she wakened the boy's father and told him the boy had come back. when the father saw the boy he thought it must be his ghost, and he was afraid. but the boy did not mention anything that had happened nor say where he had been. he said only "i have come back again." the next day some of the people saw him, and they were surprised. they told their neighbors, and soon it was rumored all over the village that the boy had returned. they came where he was and stood around and looked at him and asked him questions, but he told them nothing. but he went to the chiefs of the village and made his report to them. afterwards he gave account to the people, saying, "i have been away all summer with friends, with people who have been very good to me. now i should like to take them a present of dried meat and other good things, so that we can have a feast. i beg you to help me, my friends." so they brought together a quantity of the articles required, and they chose some young men to go with him to help carry the gifts to the people who had befriended him. so the boy and his companions went on the way towards the nahurak lodge at pahuk. when they came near to the place the boy dismissed the young men who had accompanied him, and they went back to the village. now the boy went on alone and met the kingfisher, the messenger of the nahurak, and sent word by him that he had come to visit the nahurak, and had brought presents from his people. so the boy was invited into the lodge and all the nahurak made sounds of gladness at seeing him again. the boy brought in the presents which had been sent by his people and they had a feast. after the feast they held a doctors' ceremony. they reviewed all the things that the nahurak had taught him during the summer that he had spent with them. then the boy was made a doctor, and he was now able to do many wonderful things. after this the time came for the young man to return again to the village of his people. the animals were thankful and gave praise to tirawa for the gifts which the young man had brought to them. and the young man was thankful to the animals and he praised tirawa for what the animals had done for him. then he returned to the village of his people. he never told the people what his father had done to him. the young man lived a long and useful life among his people and attained much honour. he did many wonderful things for his people and healed them of their diseases and injuries. in time he gathered about him a group of other young men, who, like himself, were of serious and thoughtful mind, and who had desire toward the welfare of the people. these young men became his disciples, and to them he taught the mysteries which had been imparted to him by the animals of the lodge at pahuk. these wise men in turn taught other worthy inquirers, and these again others; and so these mysteries and learning and the healing arts have come down from that long-ago time to the present among the pawnee people. the lodge of the black-tail deer which talked with its captor north dakota has a number of places to which attach interesting legends and myths. one such place is a butte not far from schmitt on the south side of the missouri river on the road between mandan and cannon ball. it is west of eagle-beak butte. the story of this butte is a mandan myth. a long time ago the mandans lived in a village which was on a level place just north of the bad water creek, which white people call little heart river. at the west of this place there is a range of high hills. the mandans lived at the bad water village in the time long before white men had come across the great water, so there were no horses in the country. the people had no animals except dogs to help them carry their burdens. and of course they had never heard of the thunder-irons (guns) which strike and kill the deer and other game at long distance. so it was hard work to obtain their supplies of meat and to carry the same home to their houses. a man who lived in the bad water village had dug a deer pit in a place among the hills west of the village and cunningly covered it over to appear not different from the ground about it. by this means he hoped to capture a deer whose flesh would be food for his family, and whose skin would be useful for making clothing; whose sinew would be used for thread, some of its bones to be used for making awls and needles, others for other useful implements and tools. its horns would be used to make garden rakes for working the ground of his family's garden. one morning in autumn there had been a snowfall during the preceding night, the first snowfall of the season. the man went out early in the morning into the hills to look at his trap to see if it might have caught something during the night. as he approached the place he saw that the cover was broken through, and when he came near and looked in he was rejoiced to see that he had captured a fine large black-tail deer. now when he came to the edge of the pit and looked down at his prize the deer looked up at him and spoke to him, saying, "o, man, do not kill me, but let me go free from the pit. if you release me you will do well." the man was surprised to hear the deer speak to him like a man, and he was disappointed to think of losing his prize. but he thought to himself, "this is something mysterious, i must give heed; i must not defy the mysterious power, but listen to the message; for it must be that some mysterious power wishes to impart something to me through this animal as its messenger." so as he thus hesitated in doubt the deer again made its plea and requested to be set free. but the man spoke of his duty to his family, who looked to him for food and for clothing. again the deer spoke and said, "indeed you do well to think of your family, and your endeavor to provide for them as well as you can is prompted both by your love and duty. but i say to you that you would do well if you allow me to go. if you do so, i promise you that you will have success in hunting; you shall find game abundant for the needs of yourself and family. and when war comes upon your people you shall be victorious over the enemy. so shall you be remembered among your people for bravery." the man gave heed to what the deer said to him, and he dared not disobey the message which had come to him in this mysterious way. so now he began to dig down the side of the pit so that the deer could come out. when he had finished he said to the deer, "now you may go." then the deer came up the incline from the pit and ran down across the bad water creek away toward the eagle beak hill. as he ran the new fallen snow flew behind him from his hoofs in a white cloud, and he sang a song: "i was glad when i saw the first snow, but i almost lost the sight of day." the man watched the deer as it ran and observed that when it approached a conical butte west of eagle-beak butte that the butte opened with a loud roaring sound and the deer entered and he saw it no more, and then the butte closed again as before. the man went home pondering these things in his mind. as time passed events came true as they had been promised to him in the message spoken to him by the deer. he became renowned among his people for his skill and success in the chase, for his generosity to the old people and to the sick and poor, and he attained many honors for his deeds of valour in warfare against the enemies of his people. ever since that time the mandans have called the butte into which the deer disappeared after its release from the pit, the lodge of the black-tail deer. the wonderful basket _a mandan story_ indians of all tribes held the thought of the brotherhood of all living nature, of the trees and flowers and grasses, of the fishes in the waters, of the living things which creep or walk or run on the land and of the birds which fly above the earth, and of human beings. and they believed that human beings often gained wisdom and useful information through dreams and visions in which the guardian spirits of any of these other living creatures talked to them, revealing to chosen, attentive and worthy persons, secrets of nature which were hidden from the careless and unworthy. among most tribes the cedar tree is considered to possess a property of mystery and sacredness. for this reason twigs of cedar were often burned as incense in a sacred fire for the purpose of driving away evil influences. and if a person reclined under the shelter of cedar trees the healing power and strength of their spirit would come to him and his own spirit would thus gain composure and strength to meet life's troubles. once in the old times a woman was resting under a cedar tree. she was weary from her work, and as the gentle wind sighed among the thick green branches above her she dropped to sleep. while she slept the cedar tree spoke to her in a soft murmuring voice, and the woman gave heed to the words of the cedar tree. and this is what the cedar tree said to the woman: "sister, if you will dig down into the earth you will find there my slender, strong, pliant roots. take up some of these and weave them into a basket. you shall find thereafter that some good shall come of it. it shall bring good to you and to all women." so the woman did as she was told by the cedar tree. she took up the slender roots and wove of them a basket. the basket was light but strong, and so pliant that it could be rolled into a small bundle when empty, though it was large enough to hold many things when it was opened out. one day the woman took the basket with her and walked far out upon the prairie where tipsin grew in abundance. she dug a quantity of the sweet and wholesome roots to take home for food for herself and her family. the tipsin roots grow so deep in the tough prairie sod that it is hard work to dig them, so when she had filled her basket she was very tired. she sat down to rest and sighed for very weariness, and the tears came to her eyes. she said, "alas! now i must carry home this heavy load although i am already weary and faint." then the basket whispered to her "do not cry. wipe away your tears; bathe your hot cheeks with water at the brook; be glad, for i am your friend." then the woman wiped away her tears and went and bathed her cheeks and brushed her hair. when she returned the basket seemed to smile. it said to her "you were troubled for nothing. you forget what the cedar tree said to you in your dreams. you were told that good would come to you if you made a basket as you were instructed. now you need not carry your load; but sing and be glad and walk on to the village. i shall come with you, carrying your load." so the woman went on her way home, singing from happiness, while the basket kept by her side carrying the load of tipsin roots. as she came near the village the women knew by her happy singing voice that some good thing had happened to her. then as they looked up they saw her coming, and with her was coming the wonderful basket carrying the load. then all her neighbors begged her to teach them how to make a wonderful basket. so she taught them as she had been taught by the holy cedar tree how to make a wonderful basket out of its tiny roots. and so, from that time, whenever a woman went out to gather june berries or wild cherries, or raspberries, or wild plums or pembinas or tipsin, or wild rice; or to their cultivated fields to gather corn or beans, she was not obliged to carry the load home. when she was ready she started towards the village singing, and the basket came with her cheerfully carrying the burden. one day, long after this, a woman had found the winter store-house of the hintunka people, which they make under-ground, and into which they garner their store of food for the winter time. the hard-working hintunka people put away in their store-houses quantities of wild ground beans, various kinds of seeds and roots and tubers to provide themselves food for the cold time when the ground is frozen and the earth is covered with snow. it happened that the woman who found this store-house of the hintunka people was one who was not considerate of the rights of other people. she thought only that here was a quantity of food which was desirable and easy to obtain. so she filled her basket with the wild ground beans which are so delicious when cooked with bits of meat. she cared not that it had cost the hintunka people many weary hours of hard work to dig these beans and bring them together in this place, nor did she care that without them the hintunka people, their old people and their little ones, all would be left destitute of food and must perish from famine. while she was filling her basket a poor little hintunka woman cried pitifully and said, "this is our food. we have worked hard for it. you ought not to rob us of it. without it we shall die miserably of hunger." but the woman took the beans and heeded not the pitiful crying of the hintunka woman. she had filled her basket, and was making ready to go home but there was no song in her heart. then, while the filled basket sat there waiting a coyote standing near by, laughed. at this the basket was vexed, and said, "you are rude. why do you laugh at me?" but the coyote only laughed all the more. this annoyed the basket greatly, and made it feel very uneasy and distressed, for it knew something must be wrong. and it said to the coyote, "do tell me why you laugh. what is it which is strange?" then the coyote replied, "i laugh because you are so foolish. for a long time you have been carrying burdens to the village while the women go their way singing." but the basket said, "i am not foolish, i have the good spirit of the cedar tree. i am willing to carry burdens to help the women. i am glad when i hear their joyful singing." the coyote said, "but what do you get for it, friend? you work like a slave. you receive nothing for it. no one offers you a mouthful of food. when you rest for a time from your labor you are not covered with a robe made beautiful with quill-work. when you have carried burdens for a woman she merely hangs you upon a peg on the wall till the next time she wishes you to carry something for her." as the basket considered the things which the coyote said it began to be discontented. it felt that it had been treated unfairly; that it had no pay nor thanks for all it had done, and so the basket was sulky, and refused to carry the load to the village, and the woman at last had to take up the burden and carry it upon her back; and she felt aggrieved and bitter because the basket would not carry it for her. she did not consider that all the service she had ever had from the basket was from kindness and good will and not from obligation. and ever since that time the women have had to carry burdens upon their backs, for the baskets no longer carried burdens for them. cause of the breaking up of the ice in the missouri river in springtime _a myth of the dakota nation_ it is said that in the long ago there was a mysterious being within the stream of the missouri river. it was seldom seen by human beings, and was most dreadful to see. it is said that sometimes it was seen within the water in the middle of the stream, causing a redness shining like the redness of fire as it passed up the stream against the current with a terrific roaring sound. and they say that if this dreadful being was seen by anyone in the daytime anyone who thus saw it soon after became crazy and continued restless and writhing as though in pain until he was relieved by death. and it is said that one time not a very great many years ago this frightful being was seen by a man, and he told how it appeared. he said that it was of strange form and covered all over with hair like a buffalo, but red in color; that it had only one eye in the middle of its forehead, and above that a single horn. its backbone stood out notched and jagged like an enormous saw. as soon as the man beheld the awful sight everything became dark to him, he said. he was just able to reach home, but he lost his reason and soon after that he died. it is said this mysterious "miniwashitu" (water monster) still lives in the missouri river, and that in springtime, as it moves up-stream against the current it breaks up the ice of the river. this water monster was held in awe and dread by the people. the water-spring of the holy man _a myth of the dakota nation_ long ago there was a village of people of the dakota nation, which was situated on the east side of the great river which they call the muddy-water river, but which white people call the missouri river. the white people named it so from the missouri nation of indians on the lower course of this great river. this village we have just mentioned was on the east side of the river nearly opposite to the mouth of the cannonball river. the people were happy in this village, for it was a pleasant place. there was plenty of wood for their fires, and there was an abundance of buffalo berries, wild plums, choke-cherries, june berries, wild grapes, wild raspberries and other fruit growing in the woods. upon the high prairie there was much tipsin, whose roots are so good when cooked with meat or with dried green corn. moreover, in the timber were many boxelder trees, whose sap was made into sugar in early spring time. not far away were some lakes where there were many wild ducks and geese and other water fowl. the flesh of these fowl, and also their eggs were good food. upon the prairie were herds of buffalo and antelope and elk, and in the timber along the river were many deer. and below the hills, on the level ground of the river valley there was fertile soil where they planted their fields of corn and beans and squashes. they also cultivated the great sunflowers whose seeds are so good for food. and the people loved this place, for besides all the good things to eat, and other comforts which it gave them, it was also pleasant to look upon. there was the mysterious river coming down from the distant mountains away in the west and flowing on towards the lands of other nations of people in the south, and whose channel could be seen winding its gleaming way among the dark trees on its shores. upon the prairie hills in early spring the courageous little pasque flowers appeared like a gray-blue cloud let down upon the hill-tops where they nodded their cheery greetings to the people who passed them. a little later in the little vales were masses of deep blue violets. still later the prairie was bright with the colour and the air was sweet with the breath of the wild rose of the prairie. the cheery meadowlark, which the people call the bird of promise, flitted here and there and called his greetings and promised good things to his friends, the dakota people. and through the procession of the seasons there were spread out before their eyes on all sides scenes of beauty, changing with the change of seasons and changing every day, indeed the beauties of colour and light and shade were changing at every stage of the day from the rosy dawn till the blue shades of evening came. yes, it was a delightful land and the people rejoiced in it. but a strange thing happened which caused the people to move away to a far distant place. and this is the way it happened: there was living in this village an old man, a wise man, a man who was held in great respect by the people, for he was a holy man, to whom the unseen powers granted knowledge not given to all the people. and these revelations came to the holy man in visions. this holy man was now too old and feeble to till the soil and raise crops of food plants, or to go on the chase for game, or to gather any of the wild food plants. but because they held him in honor the young men were glad to provide for him, and the women cooked for him of the best they had. but one time he had a vision which made him very sad, so that he could only cry and weep and could not speak of his vision for sadness of heart. and the people besought him to tell them his vision, for, they said, "if it is a vision of evil to come, we may as well know the worst. we ought to be prepared for it." for a long time the old man could not bring himself to tell them the evil foreboding which had come to him. but at last, when they continued strongly urging him to tell them what it was, he said: "well, my children, i will tell you the vision, for it may be that i shall not live long. this vision has come to me from the mysterious and awful powers, and it is full of evil portent for our people." but now he was again so overcome by sadness that he was unable to tell it. again, after some days the people begged him to tell the vision, and they pressed him so urgently that finally he said: "this is what i saw in my vision, which has come to me repeatedly. i saw a great incursion of human beings of strange appearance. they are coming from the direction of the rising sun and are moving toward this land in multitudes so great that they cannot be counted. they move everywhere over the face of the land like the restless fluctuations of heated air which are sometimes seen incessantly wavering over the heated prairie on a summer day. they are moving on resistlessly toward us and nothing can stop them, and they will take our land from us. they are a terrible people and of a monstrous appearance. the skin of this people is not of a wholesome color like the skin of our people who are born of our holy mother earth. their skin is hideous and ghastly, and the men have hairy faces like the face of a wolf. they are not kind like our people; they are savages, cruel and unfeeling. they have no reverence for our holy places, nor for our holy mother earth. and they kill and destroy all things and make the land desolate. they have no ear for the voices of the trees and the flowers, and no pity for the birds and the beasts of the field. and they deface and spoil the beauty of the land and befoul the water courses. "and they have many dreadful customs. when a person dies the body is not honorably laid upon a funeral scaffold on the prairie or in the branches of a tree in the forest as we do, but they dig a hole in the ground and put the body down into the hole and then fill the hole up again, throwing the dirt down upon the body. and they have strange and powerful weapons, so that when they come our people will not be able to withstand them. it is this dreadful vision which has overcome me with sadness." then the people were amazed and angry. they tried to have him change his vision, but he could not. again the same vision came to him. the leading men now counseled and gave the order that the people should give him no more food for some days. they said, "perhaps he will have a different vision." so he was left alone in his tent for four days. and on the fourth day when they came to his tent they found him dead. they had not intended to cause his death, but they hoped that if they let him become very hungry he would change his vision. now when they found him dead they were shocked and astonished and very angry. they said, "now the evil which he foretold will come, for he died without changing his vision." and they said "we will not bury him honorably upon a scaffold according to our custom, but we will bury him in a hole in the ground, as he said his 'wandering people' bury their dead." so they dug a hole and into this they put the body of the old man and put the earth back again upon the body. at evening some women were gazing out across the river in the twilight, and they saw a man come up out of the river and advance toward the village. when he came nearer they saw it was the holy man who had died and whose body had been buried in a hole in the ground. when he died he had changed from this life to the life of those who dwell in "the land of evening mirage." from the place where they buried him he had gone out under the ground and had come up out of the water of the river. now when he came up out from the water he was changed back again to the life on earth. from this it was evident to all the people that he was indeed a very holy man, and that his vision was true and must come to pass. they gave him a good dwelling and provided for all his needs, and the women cooked for him the best food they had, and every one did homage to him and paid him reverence. after a time he knew that the end of his life was approaching, and as he was about to die he called the leading men about him and said, "the vision which i had will truly come to pass in future time. now i am about to die. when i am dead let me be buried in the ground again at the place where i was buried before. you will see that some good thing will come of it for our people at this place. and it shall be good for all people at this place forever." when he said something good would come they thought he meant that the people should be saved from the cruel and savage, strange, pale-skinned people of his vision, but that was not what he meant. when the holy man was dead they would have preferred to give him honorable scaffold burial as was customary, but they did as he had directed and buried him in the ground where he had been buried before. but this time, they dug out a roomy place, and made walls and a roof with timbers, and in this place they put the body of the holy man after dressing him in the best of garments decorated with porcupine quill embroidery, and wrapped in a fine buffalo robe painted with beautiful designs. and they placed with him his pipe and tobacco and food and valuable presents of all kinds. then they covered it all over with earth again and set the sod as it was before. at evening they watched the place in the river where he had reappeared the other time after his burial. they thought he might return again out of the water of the river, but he did not come. and they listened above the little house they had made for him under the ground, but they heard not the slightest sound of breathing or any movement. then they made a sacred fire by the grave from twigs of the cedar tree, for this tree is holy and sacred to the good powers and the breath of its fire will bring persons of good intention into communion with those unseen powers. but the holy man did not appear by the sacred fire and he was never seen again by any of the people. now the people became so burdened with sadness that they could not endure to remain at this place, so they moved far away, where they found another good country. in this new place they stayed until all the people who were grown at the time they left the village of the holy man's grave, had become old and had died. and none had ever been back there. then, when all those who were but boys and girls when they left the former village had now become old men and women, their tribe began to suffer harrassment from an enemy people of another tribe. their enemies were too strong for them, so they had to think of moving to another place. and so it came into their minds to return to the place by the muddy-water river, where they had lived at the time when those of their people who were now old had been merry, happy children. so they came back, and before they had reached the place the old men said, "let us go on ahead and see the grave of the holy man." and when the old men came to the place where the holy man had been buried they found that a spring of good water issued from the place where the holy man's grave had been. and that is why we call this spring "the holy man's waterspring." and it is said that now a bright star is often seen shining over this spring for a while and that it then goes down and disappears into the water of the spring. and it is said that sometimes when the moon is full and bright the holy man may be seen walking near the spring. when one approaches to speak to him he disappears into the spring. not all persons can see these things, but only those whose hearts are kind and gentle, and whose minds are in accord with nature, and who have reverence for holy things and for the beauties and mysteries in nature. the sacred symbol of the circle to the dakotas the form of the circle is a sacred symbol because great spirit caused everything in nature except stone to be round. stone is the implement of destruction. the sun, the earth and the moon are round like a shield, and the sky is round like a bowl inverted over the earth. all breathing creatures are round like a human body. all things growing out of the ground are round, as the trunk of a tree or the stem of an herb. the edge of the world is a circle, hence the circle is a symbol of the world and of the winds which travel to us from all points on the edge of the world. the sun and the moon which mark the day and the night travel in a circle above the sky; for this reason the circle is a symbol of these divisions of time, and of the year, and so is the symbol for all time. raindrops are round, and so are the drops of dew hanging like strings of beads upon the grass blades. pellets of hail and of sleet are round. every snowflake has a centre from which lines radiate as from the centre of a circle. the rainbow, which beautifies the sky after showers, is round. because great spirit has caused almost all things to be round it is for us a sacred symbol; it reminds us of the work of great spirit in the universe. and for this reason dakotas make their tipis round; and in laying a camp the tipis are set in a circular line; and in all ceremonies they sit in a circle. the circle is a symbol of the tipi and of shelter and comfort. in decorative figures the undivided circle is a symbol of the world and of time. if the circle be filled with red it is a symbol of the sun; if filled with blue it is a symbol of the sky. if the circle be divided into four parts it is a symbol of the four winds. the mouthpiece of a pipe should always be passed about the circle and offered to the four directions before it is formally smoked. the sacred number four it appears that great spirit caused everything in the world to be in fours; for this reason mankind's activities of all kinds should be governed by the number four out of respect to this sacred number and in agreement with it. we see that there are four directions: the north, the east, the south, and the west; four divisions of time: the day, the night, the moon, and the year; there are four seasons: the spring, the summer, the autumn, and the winter; there are four parts to everything that grows from the ground: the roots, the stems, the leaves, and the fruits; four kinds of things that breathe: those that crawl, those that fly, those that walk on four legs, and those that walk on two legs; four things above the world: the sun, the moon, the sky, and the stars; four kinds of gods: the great, the associates of the great, the gods below them, and the spirit kind; four periods of human life: infancy, youth, adulthood, and old age; mankind has four fingers on each hand, four toes on each foot, and the thumbs and big toes of each taken together make four. all these tokens of the works of great spirit should cause mankind to order his ceremonies and all activities so far as possible by this sacred number. the pristine prairie to obtain even an approximate appreciation of the conditions of life as they presented themselves to the people of the nations which formerly occupied the region drained by the missouri river and its tributaries we must bring ourselves to see it as it was in its natural condition, void of all the countless changes and accessories which we have erected here by our european culture and custom. imagine, then, a country of open prairie stretching away and away beyond the range of vision over hill, valley, and plain, the skyline unbroken by trees, except a fringe along the course of the streams. the aspect of this landscape in summer was that of a boundless sea of shining green, billowing under the prevailing south wind, darkened here and there by the swiftly marching shadows of clouds sailing high and white in the brilliant blue sky. toward the end of summer the sun appears to have shed some of its lustre upon the plain below, for it now shines with a paler light, while the ever restless, rustling, whispering sea of grass waves in rolling billows of golden green, seeming to be forever flowing on before the south wind into the mysterious north, changing again into yellow and warm brown as autumn comes on. then it may happen some day that the whole aspect is suddenly changed. fire has escaped in the sea of dry grass. to the windward the horizon is one long line of smoke, which, as it comes nearer, rolls up in black masses shot through with darting tongues of angry red flames leaping a hundred feet skyward, while the sound of the conflagration is like that of a rushing storm. frightened animals are fleeing before it in terror for their lives and birds are flying from the threatened destruction. this scene passes, and now the whole visible earth is one vast stretch of coal black, and the whole sky is a thick blue haze in which the sun seems to hang like a great red ball, while an unbroken silence pervades the land. then winter comes with days of leaden sky and blackened earth, succeeded by clear days when the snow-covered earth appears like a vast white bowl encrusted with frost-diamonds and inclosed by an over-arching dome of most brilliant blue. again the season changes; warm airs blow from the south; soft showers fall; the sound of the first thunder wakens all nature; the blackened earth appears once more, soon showing color from the pale green spears of tender young grass, and in a short time the form of mother earth is once more clothed in a mantle of shining green. and now as the biting winds of winter yield to the balmy breezes from the south all the vernal flora is quickened into life and beauty. the modest blue violets appear in such profuse abundance that they seem like shreds of the sky wafted by the spring breezes over the land and drifted into every swale and ravine. on the upland the purple flowers of the buffalo pea show themselves; in sandy places of the middle great plains the dainty lavender blue bonnets of the early wind-flower are trembling in the breeze. in the northern great plains the snow is scarcely gone before the pasque flowers, first gladsome harbingers of the lovely hosts to follow, troop forth over the bleak hillsides, "very brave little flowers," the cree indians say, "which come while it is still so cold that they must come wearing their fur coats." this is in allusion to the furry appearance of the pasque flower. and as the floral life manifests itself all the native faunal life is also awakened to renewed activity. the migratory birds are seen and heard flying northward by relays in hundreds of thousands. the course of the missouri river marks upon the earth the chart by which they direct their northward flight toward their summer homing places. the arkansas river, the kansas, the platte, the niobrara and the white river are relay stations of their journey, and the countless v-shaped flocks coming northward in long lines wheel, circling down until tracts many acres in extent are whitened by the great numbers of snow geese, while the canada geese in equal numbers darken other tracts; ducks in great numbers are swimming on all the ponds and quiet streams, and regiments and brigades of tall gray cranes are continually marching and counter-marching on land or sailing like fleets of monoplanes far up in the clear blue, whence float down to earth the vibrant notes of their bugle calls as they travel on into the north. on the higher prairies at sunrise as the long rays of the red morning sun slant brightly across the land the booming, drum-like sound of hundreds of prairie chickens is heard at their assemblies, for at this season they dance the mating dance at the sunrise hour. soon the meadowlarks, "the birds of promise," appear, singing their songs of promise of good things for their friends, the human beings; and they set about the duties of housekeeping, building their lowly nests at the grass roots, and all about are scenes of brightness and sounds of gladness. it was in such a country as this, then, that the people of the several different native nations who were here before us lived and took joy of the good gifts of mother earth and from their own activities, and in all the beauty of this good land. and they loved this land for all its good gifts and for its beauty, and for these and for its mystery and grandeur they paid reverence. [illustration: {map to show aboriginal agriculture}] aboriginal american agriculture _see map. vertical lines indicate region under agriculture by natural rainfall. horizontal lines indicate region farmed under irrigation. both regions were settled in permanent villages._ most people of this country, of the now dominant european race, seldom give a thought to the aboriginal economic conditions which prevailed here before this country was europeanised. they seldom think of the precolumbian utilisation of the natural resources of this continent by the people of the native american race. they do not consider the myriad possible uses of plants and plant products by the people of the native tribes. most persons of our european race in arrogant self-satisfaction have not been accustomed to think of those of the american race as agriculturists at all, much less have we given thought to the contributions made by that race to the world's agriculture. but according to the united states crop report of the value of the crops in this country alone, of plants which were first brought under cultivation by indians, is $ , , , . no doubt the beginnings of agriculture, with our own european race and with every race, was simply the gathering and storing of supplies of wild plant products, and proceeded by the stages of intentional dissemination and cultivation, selection and improvement of stock into myriad varieties. when european explorers first visited the atlantic shores of america they found the native tribes to be agriculturists, living in villages of permanent houses, and with their cultivated fields stretching about the villages. and as the explorers advanced into the interior of the continent they found similar conditions to prevail as far as to and including the missouri river valley. so it was found that in all the region from the gulf of mexico to the st. lawrence river, the great lakes and the region of the upper missouri river all the various indian nations were settled agriculturists. on the high plains and in the western mountains the tribes could not cultivate the soil because of the unfavorable conditions. the crops cultivated by the tribes in the region above defined consisted of corn, beans, squashes and pumpkins in many varieties, gourds, sunflower, and tobacco. according to the testimony of some of the early explorers it appears that in the southeastern part of the continent they also cultivated sweet potatoes and peanuts. it may be said that the sunflower is native to the western plains and was there brought under cultivation and improved to what we have as the cultivated sunflower and was distributed throughout the region from the great plains to the atlantic coast. the other crops above named were introduced from the south many centuries ago from mexico. their wild ancestors grow there, which would indicate that there they were first brought into domestication by cultivation and improvement of the wild stock. all evidence from every source seems to point to the plateau of southeast mexico as the place of origin of corn. it seems to have been originally a large, coarse wild grass with seeds which were at least large enough to furnish an article of food when gathered in quantity. the botanical evidence would indicate that it was a branched stalk and that all the branches and the terminal alike bore loose panicles of seeds, not in compact ears as we now know the corn ear. but ages of cultivation and selection by obscure and forgotten tribes of primitive farmers have produced a plant which bears its staminate flowers generally on the terminal and its pistillate flowers on side branches modified into what we know as the corn ear. not only had the above-described modification taken place in the process of long ages of cultivation and selection, but the five great types of corn had been formed and developed into innumerable varieties of each type prior to the advent of white men on this continent. the five types to which i have referred are dent corn, flour corn, flint corn, sweet corn, and pop corn. dent corn was obtained first by white men from the indians of virginia in the beginning of the seventeenth century at the first settlement of that colony by the english. the new england tribes had flint corn, flour corn, and sweet corn, and pop corn, but not dent corn. the tribes of the upper missouri river had flint corn, flour corn and sweet corn. the arikara and mandan on the upper missouri were the great agricultural tribes of this region. omaha legend credits the arikara with first having corn and with having distributed to other tribes. and the common pictograph to represent the arikara among all the surrounding tribes was a conventionalised ear of corn. in the sign language also the surrounding tribes designated the arikara by a motion of the hands depicting the act of shelling corn, or by the motions of eating an ear of corn. washington matthews says: "there are some reasons for believing that the arikara represent an older race of farmers than the mandan; for their religious ceremonies connected with the planting are the more numerous, and they honor the corn with a species of worship." and it is the work of these northern tribes in past centuries in acclimating corn to the short northern summer with its cool nights which has made it possible for the states of north dakota, montana and minnesota now to be corn-producing states; for acclimation is a long and gradual process and was accomplished during a northward migration from mexico which occupied many centuries of time. in the arid region of what is now new mexico and arizona the work of agriculture was carried on by means of irrigation ages before the coming of white men, and the old irrigation ditches made by the primitive indian farmers of that region may still be traced--irrigation works made without other power than human muscles and without the use of iron; the shovels used being made of bone. the world is indebted to the aboriginal american agriculturists not only for all types of corn which we now have, but also for all kinds of beans, for pumpkins and squashes, cultivated sunflowers, sweet potatoes, peanuts, and many other crops among our present day staples. a great handicap to the primitive american farmer was the lack of iron tools; for they had no iron before the coming of white men. another handicap was the absence of horses. the horse was not native to the western hemisphere, and was first introduced by the spaniards. previously the only beast of burden in north america was the dog. so the cultivation of the ground was entirely handwork; and the tool most in use was a hoe made from the shoulderblade of the buffalo or of the elk. one may imagine the immense labor which was required to develop and extend the above-named crops over the continent, acclimated and ready to our hand when we arrived in the new world. the earth-lodge as an example of the modifying power of geographic influence exercised upon the arts, we may consider the style of architecture or domiciliary structure prevailing in the plains region. in each geographic province, which also constitutes a culture area, the style of housing is different according to natural resources and climatic conditions. in the plains area the permanent dwelling was the earth-covered structure; while the temporary dwelling was the skin tent. the earth-covered house seems to be an evolution from the thatched house of the southern plains, exemplified in the dwellings of the wichitas. farther north the exigencies of the climate suggested the addition of an earth covering. all the nations and tribes of the missouri, of whatever racial stock, employed the same style of dwelling. in order to effect the construction of an earth-covered house, a circle of the desired diameter was stripped off from the surface soil. four tall, strong forked posts were set in the center about or feet apart in a quadrangle. beams were laid on these forks. outside of the center posts a circle of shorter posts was set and beams laid in their forks. rafters were laid from the lower to the upper beams. a wall of timbers was leaned up against the circle of lower beams, the base of the leaning timbers resting upon the ground. an opening was left at the east, and here was made a vestibule to feet long. timbers were laid upon the rafters, willow poles were laid upon the timbers, and a thatch of dry grass upon these poles. a covering of earth was now built up about the walls and over the roof to a total thickness of about feet, making, when complete, a dome-shaped structure. all structural timbers and poles were fastened by tying with ropes of raw hide or of basswood or elm fiber. an opening of several feet in diameter was left at the top of the dome for a skylight, ventilator, and smoke-escape. the fireplace was at the center of the earth floor; the sleeping compartments were ranged about next to the wall. the altar was at the west side, opposite the doorway. the diameter of the house varied, according to the needs of the family which occupied it, from to or feet; the height from to feet. this was a family domicile and not a community or tenement house. such family dwellings were clustered in villages. the evidences of many such village sites may be seen throughout all the region of the missouri river drainage basin. their fields of agricultural crops were cultivated in alluvial valleys usually near the villages, although sometimes, when suitable land was not nearby, their fields might be at some distance. the earth-covered house probably originated with the tribes of caddoan stock, that is, the pawnee and arikara, and was adopted by the tribes of other stocks upon their migration into the missouri river region. the pawnee had very elaborate ceremonies and traditions connected with the earth-lodge. the earlier star cult is recognized in the signification attached to the four central posts. each stood for a star--the morning star, and the evening star, symbols of the male and female cosmic forces, and the north and south stars. in the rituals of the pawnee the earth-lodge is made typical of man's abode on the earth; the floor is the plain, the wall the horizon, the dome the arching sky, the central opening the zenith, the dwelling-place of tirawa, the invisible power which gives life to all creatures. in the poetic thought of the pawnee the earth was regarded as mother and was so called because from the earth's bounty mankind is fed. to their imagination the form of the earth-lodge suggests the figure of speech by which these human dwellings symbolised the breasts of mother earth; for here man is nourished and nurtured, he is fed and sheltered and blessed with tenderness of life. here he knows love and warmth and gentleness. herewith is given a metrical translation of an ancient pawnee ritualistic hymn. this hymn is extracted from the ritual of a ceremonial of great age in the pawnee nation, and there were similar ceremonials among all the tribes and nations of the plains area. the full ritual from which this is taken is published in the twenty-second annual report of the bureau of american ethnology, part . having given the description of the structure of the earth-lodge, the allusions in the following hymn will be readily understood: hymn to the sun i now behold: hither comes the ray of our father sun; it cometh over all the land, passeth in the lodge, us to touch, and give us strength. ii now behold: where alights the ray of our father sun; it touches lightly on the rim, the place above the fire, whence the smoke ascends on high. iii now behold: softly creeps the ray of our father sun; now o'er the rim it creeps to us, climbs down within the lodge; climbing down, it comes to us. iv now behold: nearer comes the ray of our father sun; it reaches now the floor and moves within the open space, walking there, the lodge about. v now behold where has passed the ray of our father sun; around the lodge the ray has passed and left its blessing there, touching us, each one of us. vi now behold: softly climbs the ray of our father sun; it upward climbs, and o'er the rim it passes from the place whence the smoke ascends on high. vii now behold on the hills the ray of our father sun; it lingers there as loath to go, while all the plain is dark. now has gone the ray from us. viii now behold: lost to us the ray of our father sun; beyond our sight the ray has gone, returning to the place whence it came to bring us strength. description of the tipi the temporary dwelling used for traveling was a conical tent made from buffalo skins erected on a frame of poles. it commonly had about twenty poles averaging twenty-five feet in length. the poles were set in a circle about fifteen feet in diameter, held together above by a hide rope wound round the whole set of poles about four feet from the upper ends. three poles were first tied together, then the others were laid in the forks of these, then the rope was passed round all of them and tied. the cover was from fifteen to eighteen buffalo hides cut and fitted so that when sewn together with sinew thread, they formed a single large sheet nearly semi-circular in shape. this was lifted into place by a special pole at the back of the structure, then the ends were brought around to the front and fastened by means of eight or ten small wooden pins at intervals from the door to the crossing of the poles. the bottom was kept in place by pegs about two feet apart around the circle. the door was usually a piece of skin stretched over an elliptical frame. at the top an opening was left for ventilation and outlet for the smoke of the fire. the draft was regulated by two flaps or wings supported each on a movable pole slanted alongside the tipi with its base on the ground and its top fastened to the apex of the smoke-flap. this held the draft open to the side away from the wind and was moved according to the changes of the wind so as always to be open to the lee side. the beds were at the sides and the back of the tipi. decorated curtains above the beds kept off any drops of rain which might come through the smoke-hole in rainy weather. the ground was the floor, the part near the beds sometimes cut off from the open space by a hedge of interwoven twigs. in warm weather the bottom of the tipi was raised to allow the breeze to pass through. in cold weather the bottom was banked with grass to keep out the wind. the camp was arranged in a circle, each band of the tribe having its own proper segment of the circle, which was relatively the same through immemorial generations, and each family in each band had its proper place in the segment, so that one coming into camp after nightfall, although he might not have been in camp before, could thus unfailingly find his way to his own family. on account of its exact adaptability to prairie life, the tipi was taken as the model of the army tent which bears the name of general sibley, and is used now by our army. an omaha ghost story in the springtime a little child had died and was buried on the hill southeast of the village. the hill was green with the prairie grass and spangled with the beautiful wild flowers of the prairie. on the north and east the forest ascends the slope from the missouri river valley to the crest of the hill, partly encircling the burial place with a rampart of green trees in which were numbers of happy birds, busy with their nest-building and tuneful with their joyful songs. not long after the death of this little child the people went upon the annual summer buffalo hunt to the sand hill region many miles away to the west from the village. as the people drew away from the familiar home scenes of the village the mother was strongly affected by a feeling of sadness and grief for her little one which she had to leave alone in its lone and narrow bed upon the hill. when the people made camp and the evening meal was prepared this mother was so burdened with grief for her child that she could not eat and went away to grieve alone. when she left the camp she was so drawn by yearning for her little one that she walked on and on all night toward the home village. in the morning, weak and weary, she was back in the deserted village. all was still. not a person and not a dog was there. she went into her own house. then she went through the village to other houses. at some deserted fireplace she happened to find some coals; so she was able to kindle a fire and cook a bit of food. she sat in her house and wailed for her baby. after a time she heard sounds. she listened and there seemed to be whispers and murmurs all about her. and so it continued day after day. at first she saw nothing, but heard the murmurs and whispers, and gradually she could almost understand what the whispers said, especially when she fasted. she made out enough to know that it was the spirits of the departed, who, in the absence of the living, returned to occupy the houses during the absence of the people. after a time she became able to understand more of what the ghosts said, and finally she could talk with them in their own manner. their speech was not like the speech of living people; there was no voice, but slight whispering sounds, as one sometimes hears among the grass on the prairie when all is still, or among the leaves of growing corn, or the light rustling of the cottonwood leaves on a quiet evening. at first the woman saw nothing, though she could hear the whispering speech like the breathing of those who sleep. later she could see, as it seemed, feet moving about on the floor, but nothing above the feet. as she looked she could see nothing between herself and the opposite walls of the house. then, after a time, she seemed to see not only the moccasins but the leggings above them as far as the knees, but she never saw any more. and thus it was with her during all the time she dwelt there alone with the spirits until her people returned to the village. this time it happened the people did not return for a year. when the woman had disappeared from the camp on their first night out the people supposed she had gone out somewhere to be alone to weep and pray, but when she did not return they sought for her, and not being able to find any trace of her they supposed some accident had befallen her and that she was dead. they were much surprised to find her at home when they returned to the village at the end of a year. but when they spoke to her they found that she was mute; she moved her lips, but no sound came. after some days she recovered speech and again took up her accustomed life with her people. during the year in which she lived alone in the deserted village she had planted and harvested a crop and had lived by that and by what food may have been left in the storage places and from the wild products which she gathered. an omaha hero song all american tribes had many different classes of songs. one class of songs was in praise of tribal heroes. there were also songs of chivalry, celebrating brave and generous deeds. to this class belongs the one given herewith. it must be said in explanation that all indian songs are very brief. they comprise only a line or two and the meaning of the song is known by the story which is its foundation. to understand this particular song it must be explained that a common military custom among the tribes was to award certain honors for certain exploits, just as we see in our own armies the awarding of the victoria cross, the distinguished service medal, the military medal, the croix de guerre, etc. in the omaha tribe the highest military honor was awarded for getting near enough to the enemy to touch an enemy body, either with a lance, a bow, or any object in the hand. there was an old warrior of this tribe, named yellow-wood bow, who had fought well and won many honors in his time. but he was now old and no longer able to fight for his people. but one day when an attack had been made on his people by the enemy and the young men were fighting valorously, the old man went out walking feebly toward the field of conflict to see the battle, for he was unable to sit quietly in the village while the fighting was going on. it happened that as he approached the battlefield two young men were just about to count their honors by striking with a lance the body of a slain enemy when one saw the old warrior, yellow-wood bow approaching. he held back and spoke to his comrade in the words "hold! yellow-wood bow is coming!" so the young men gave over the opportunity of counting the honor for themselves in order that the highly respected old warrior might have this one more chance to gain an honor, one more honor to his long list of honors. and the generosity of these two young men is praised in the song: "hold! yellow-wood bow is coming!" in singing this song not only do the people award praise and glory to bravery and courage, but the virtue of renunciation shown by the young men also receives its measure of praise. the song has the purpose to inculcate emulation of bravery and also of generosity and unselfishness of spirit. stories of plant people sacred trees a people living under natural conditions in communion with nature, will carefully note the appearance of natural objects in their environment. they become acquainted with the various aspects of the landscape and of the living things, plants and animals in their changes through the seasons, in storm and calm, in activity and in repose. becoming thus intimately acquainted with the life about them the people will come to regard some of the more notable forms with a feeling akin to that which they have towards persons, and hence they come to have place in folk stories, in reasoned discourse and in ceremonies of religion. commonly throughout the region of the missouri river was to be seen the cottonwood, the willows of several species, and the cedar or juniper. the appearance and habits of these trees impressed themselves powerfully upon the mind and imagination of the indian folk. the cedar or juniper was wonderful because it was ever green; unlike other trees it appeared indifferent to frost and to heat, but alike in winter and summer retained its leaves. also it appeared to be withdrawn, solitary and silent, standing dark and still, like an indian standing upon a hill with his robe drawn over his head in prayer and meditation. thus it gave the suggestion, and had the appearance of being in communion with the high powers. leaves and twigs of cedar were burned as incense in ceremonial rituals in order that evil influences might be driven away. willows were always found growing along watercourses, as though they had some duty or function in the world in connection with water, the element so immediately and constantly needful to man and to all other living things. water was not only imperatively necessary for vivifying and reanimating all living things, but was an active agent in processes of change and transmutation. in cases of disease the evil influences which plagued the body might be driven out and thus health might be restored through the use of water transformed into vapor by means of heat. so the vapor bath was used. also if a man contemplated the undertaking of any serious project, any dangerous mission, or any solemn enterprise, it was important first to prepare himself by purification, by means of the vapor bath, from all evil influences. the framework of the vapor bath lodge was made of willow poles, bent and tied with their bark. the willow was also mystically connected with that greatest change of all, the departure of the spirit from the body, the change which we call death. willow twigs had certain uses in funeral rites. the cottonwood was found growing over a widely extended range, under diverse climatic conditions, appearing always self-reliant, showing prodigious fecundity, and having wonderful means of propagation. it provided its seed, produced in enormous number, with a device by which they traveled on the wind to far places and so became widely disseminated in all directions, traveling up-stream or down-stream, and even across the plains and prairies to other streams where the new generation might establish itself. but besides this admirable provision to insure the perpetuation of its kind it had also another means of propagation; though by this means it could move only down-stream. this method of propagation is by the making of cuttings or planting slips from its own twigs. it is well known that the gardener may make artificial cuttings of many kinds of trees and plants, and so increase his stock. but the cottonwood, alone among trees, performs this operation itself. at the beginning of autumn the cottonwood trees form layers of cork cells which gradually wedge off part of its twigs from the parent branch, thus covering and healing the wound of separation and also covering and healing the base of the separated twig so that it falls off alive and protected from loss of sap. falling thus to the ground just about the time that autumn rains are about to begin, they are ready to be carried away by the rising waters of the streams and may be thus planted in a mud or sand bank further down stream, ready to take root and grow in the springtime. in the springtime the opening of the cottonwood buds and pushing out of the young leaves, even when chilly nights follow the bright breezy days and the rapid growth of these lustrous leaves, brightly dancing in the spring winds, their brilliant sheen and active movement reflecting the splendour of the sun like the dancing, glinting ripples of a lake, suggest the joy and eagerness and energy of movement of all returning life. the foliage of the cottonwood is peculiar and remarkable so that it may be said the air is never so still that there is not motion of cottonwood leaves. even in still and sultry summer afternoons, and at night when all else was still, ever they could hear the rustling of cottonwood leaves by the passage of little vagrant currents of air. secret messages seemed ever to be passing in soft whispers among the cottonwood leaves. and the winds themselves are the bearers of the messages and commands of the higher powers, so there was constant reminder of the mystic character of this tree. the cottonwood was, among trees, the symbol of fidelity, one of the four great virtues inculcated by the ethical code of the people of the dakota nation. so from all these considerations, it might be expected that this tree should have an important place in the rituals of the people for many generations associated with it. and so it had. the sacred pole of the omaha nation was made of the cottonwood. the sacred pole was an object of the greatest veneration to the people of that nation, similarly as the ark of the covenant was sacred to the hebrew nation. the sacred tree, the central object of the sun dance, the most momentous religious ritual of the dakota nation, was a cottonwood. the tree which should be chosen to be felled and brought into camp and set up in the lodge erected for the performance of this ritual, must be a growing cottonwood tree, the base of whose trunk is not less than two spans in circumference. the tree must be straight and forked at a distance from the ground of about four times the measure of the outstretched arms from hand to hand. twigs and bark of cottonwood were burned as incense to ward against the scheming of anog ite, the spiteful malevolent being who foments scandals, strife and infidelity. such then, were some of the relations in the philosophic thought, the religious conceptions and the sentiments of the people of the dakota nation in regard to these three species of trees. the song of the pasque flower the pasque flower (=pulsatilla patens=), has a very extensive range upon the northern prairies, reaching from about latitude degrees north to the great slave lake above degrees north latitude. it is the earliest flower to put forth its blossoms in the springtime, often appearing before all the snow is gone. its bluish purple flowers gladden the bare brown hillsides with great profusion of bloom, in earnest of returning life. for this reason it has a strong hold upon the affections of all the native tribes throughout all its extended range. the plant is closely related to the anemone, which is sometimes called the wind flower. the people of the dakota nation have a number of pretty little folk stories concerning the pasque flower. one story is that in the long ago, whenever any of the people happened to pass by where these flowers were blooming they tried to show the friendliness which they felt for human beings by nodding their heads in the chilly spring wind, showing their smiling faces and saying, "good morning! good morning!" but the people passed them unheeding. they became abashed at this indifference, so nowadays still feeling friendly towards the people in spite of such rebuffs, they bashfully turn their heads to one side as they nod and call their kindly greetings in their sweet low voice. there is another pretty conceit connected with the pasque flower. indians generally are keenly observant of all things in nature, and reverent towards them. they feel reverence for all living creatures, whether plant or animal. they have songs and stories about most of the species of plants and animals with which they are acquainted, the specific song being the expression of the life or soul of the species to which it pertains. the song of the pasque flower, translated out of the dakota language into english runs something like this: "i wish to encourage the children of other flower nations which are now appearing over all the land; so while they waken from sleep and rise from the bosom of mother earth, i stand here old and gray-headed." [illustration: map of geographical distribution of pasque flower] the saying: "i wish to encourage the children of other flower nations," refers to the very early prevernal blossoming of this plant and its consequent ripening while the other flower species (nations) are just peeping through the ground. the entire plant is hairy, and when mature its seed head is plumose and white, similar to the clematis head, suggesting the head of a very old man with long white hair. this explains the allusion in "i stand here old and gray-headed." when in springtime an old man of the dakota nation first finds one of these flowers it reminds him of his childhood, when he wandered over the hills at play as free from sorrow and care as the birds and the flowers. he sits down near the flower, upon the lap of mother earth, takes out his pipe and fills it with tobacco. then he reverently holds the pipe towards the earth, then towards the sky, then towards the north, the east, the south and the west. after this act of silent invocation and thanksgiving, he smokes. tobacco was sacred and was used ceremonially as an incense. the pipe was therefore a sort of censer, and was accordingly treated with respect and reverence. in smoking, indians did not seize the pipestem in the teeth. such an act would be sacrilegious. the mouthpiece of the pipestem was gently presented to the lips and the breath drawn through. by this inspiration the smoker united the mystery of the tobacco, the mystery of fire and the mystery of the breath of life. while the old man sits by the flower and smokes he meditates upon all the changing scenes of his lifetime; his joys and sorrows, his youthful hopes, his accomplishments, his disappointments, and upon the guidance of the unseen powers accorded to him thus far upon the journey of life, and he is encouraged to believe that he will be guided to the end of life's journey "beyond the fourth hill" of life; as he has been guided over the hill of childhood, the hill of youth, and the hill of manhood's prime, that he will also be guided over the last hill, the hill of old age. after finishing his pipe he empties the ashes reverently upon the ground near the pasque flower which he has been contemplating. then he rises and plucks the flower prayerfully and carries it carefully home to show to his grandchildren, singing as he goes, the song of the pasque flower, which he learned as a child and which he now teaches to his grandchildren, commending to them the example of the flower in its courage and endurance and its faithfulness. the song of the pasque flower by rev. ignatius forster, o. s. b. mount marty, yankton, south dakota. february , . lovely pasque flower, herald of spring, proclaiming the hour, gladly to sing. gently thou greetest the wintry sun; boldly thou peepest if snow is gone. callest thy playmates who still do sleep: "arise, lo, spring waits! no longer weep." slowly they waken, lowly they sigh: "wasn't that beckon pasque flower's cry?" they rise in raiments of colors bright; pasque flower's garments are hoary white. noble thy preaching, pasque flower brave; "work," is thy teaching, "unto the grave." lovely pasque flower, herald of spring proclaiming the hour to work and sing. father forster was moved to write this delightful little song upon reading one evening, (february , ), the foregoing prose account of the dakota (sioux) song of the pasque flower or hoksi-cekpa wahca. the prairie rose the prairie was gray and drab, no beautiful flowers brightened it, it had only dull greenish-gray herbs and grasses, and mother earth's heart was sad because her robe was lacking in beauty and brightness. then the holy earth, our mother, sighed and said, "ah, my robe is not beautiful, it is sombre and dull. i wish it might be bright and beautiful with flowers and splendid with color. i have many beautiful, sweet and dainty flowers in my heart. i wish to have them upon my robe. i wish to have upon my robe flowers blue like the clear sky in fair weather. i wish also to have flowers white like the pure snow of winter and like the high white cloudlets of a quiet summer day. i wish also to have brilliant yellow flowers like the splendor of the sun at noon of a summer day. and i wish to have delicate pink flowers like the color of the dawn light of a joyous day in springtime. i would also have flowers red like the clouds at evening when the sun is going down below the western edge of the world. all these beautiful flowers are in my heart, but i am sad when i look upon my old dull, gray and brown robe." then a sweet little pink flower said, "do not grieve mother, i will go up upon your robe and beautify it." so the little pink flower came up from the heart of mother earth to be upon the sad prairie of her mother's robe. now when the wind demon saw the pink flower there he said, "indeed she is pretty, but i will not have her trespassing in my playground." so the wind demon rushed at her shouting and roaring and blew out her life, but her spirit returned to the heart of mother earth. and when the other flowers ventured, one after another to come out upon the prairie which was mother earth's robe, the wind demon destroyed them also and their spirits returned to the heart of holy mother earth. at last prairie rose offered to go and brighten the appearance of mother earth's robe, the prairie. mother earth said fondly, "yes, dear, sweet child, i will let you go. you are so lovely and your breath is so sweet, it may be that the wind demon will be charmed by you, and that he will let you remain on his ground." and prairie rose said, "yes, dear mother, i will go, for i desire that my mother's robe shall be beautiful. but if the wind demon should blow out my life my spirit shall return home to the heart of my mother." so prairie rose made the toilsome journey up through the dark ground and came out upon the sad gray prairie. and as she was going mother earth said in her heart, "oh, i hope the wind demon will allow her to live for i wish my robe to be beautiful!" now when the wind demon saw prairie rose he rushed at her shouting and said, "indeed, though she is pretty i shall not allow her to be upon my ground. i will blow out her life." so he came on roaring and drawing his breath in strong gusts. just then he caught the fragrance of the breath of prairie rose. "ah," he said, "how sweet her breath is! why, i do not have it in my heart to blow out the life of such a beautiful little maiden whose breath is so sweet! i love her. she shall stay here with me. and i must make my voice gentle and sing a melodious song, for i wish not to frighten her with my awful noise." so he became quiet and breathed gentle breezes which passed over the prairie grasses whispering and humming little songs of gladness. then the other flowers also came up through the dark ground and out upon the dull, gray prairie and made it bright and joyous with their presence. and the wind came to love all the flowers and the grasses. and so the robe of our mother earth became beautiful because of the loveliness and the sweet breath of the prairie rose. sometimes the wind forgets his gentle songs and becomes loud and boisterous, but he does not harm a person whose robe is ornamented with the color of prairie rose. the song of the wild rose the following is a translation into english out of the dakota language by dr. a. mcg. beede, of an old dakota song. the people of the dakota nation, and other tribes also, think of the various plant and animal species as having each their own songs. with these people music, song, is an expression of the soul and not a mere artistic or artful exercise. where the word "mother" appears in the following song it refers to "mother earth," a living, conscious, holy being in indian thought. the earth was truly venerated and loved by these people, who considered themselves not as owners or potential owners of any part of the land, but as being owned by the land which gave them birth and which supplied their physical needs from her bounty and satisfied their love of the beautiful by the beauty of her face in the landscape. the trilled musical syllables at the close of the last two stanzas express the spontaneous joy which comes to a person who has "life-appreciation of holy earth." the first stanza is an introduction by the narrator; not a part of the "song of the wild rose." the remaining stanzas are the song itself, of the wild rose. i will tell you of something i know, and you can't half imagine how good; it's the song of wild roses that grow in the land the dakota-folk love. from the heart of the mother we come, the kind mother of life and of all; and if ever you think she is dumb, you should know that flowers are her songs. and all creatures that live are her songs, and all creatures that die are her songs, and the winds blowing by are her songs, and she wants you to sing all her songs. like the purple in daydawn we come, and our hearts are so brimful of joy that whene'er we're not singing we hum ti-li-li-li-i, ta-la-la-loo, ta-la-la-loo! when a maiden is ready to wed pin wild roses all over her dress, and a rose in the hair of her head; put new moccasins onto her feet. then the heart of the mother will give her the songs of her own heart to sing; and she'll sing all the moons she may live, ti-li-li-li-i, ta-la-la-loo, ta-la-la-loo! use of the ground bean by indians there is a native wild bean found growing over an area of wide distribution in north america. the botanical name of this bean is =falcata comosa=. in the dakota language it is called maka ta omnicha, which means "bean of the earth;" in the pawnee language it is called ati-kuraru, which means "earth bean." the plant grows in dense masses over shrubbery and other vegetation in some places, especially along banks and at the edge of timber. it forms two kinds of branches, bearing two forms of flower, producing two forms of fruits. leafy branches climb up over the shrubbery, but under these, in the shade, prostrate on the earth, starting out from the base of the main stem, are leafless, colorless branches, forming a network on the surface of the ground. the tiny inconspicuous blossoms borne on these prostrate branches are self-pollinated and push into the leaf mold and soft soil, and there each produces a single large bean closely clothed by a thin filmy pod or husk. these beans which are formed in the earth are about the size of lima beans. upon the upper, leafy branches are borne showy, purplish flowers appearing like small bean blossoms. from these blossoms are produced small bean pods about a half inch to an inch in length. these pods contain each from three to four or five small, hard, mottled beans about an eighth of an inch long. the large beans produced in the ground are desirable for food. they are of good flavor when cooked. the small beans of the upper branches are also good for food, but they are so small and difficult to harvest that not much use is made of them by the people. the large beans formed in the earth would also be hard to gather but for the help of certain little animals called voles, or wood mice, or bean mice. the voles dig the large beans and store them in considerable quantities in storage places which they hollow out in the ground and which they cover over with sticks and leaves and earth. in these places the little animals put away sometimes a peck or a half bushel of beans. through all the extensive range of =falcata comosa=, the ground-bean, it was sought by the people of the various indian tribes to add to their food supply. the people said they did not take away all the beans from the voles as it would be wicked to loot the animals' food stores and leave the animals to starve after they had worked to gather them. but they would take a part of the store, in a manner making themselves beggars to the little animals. the omahas have a saying that "the bean mouse is a very industrious fellow, he even helps human beings." but in all accounts i have had from the people of the dakota nation the women have always said that they never took away any beans from the voles without making some payment in kind. they said it would be wicked and unjust to take the beans from the animals and give nothing in return. so they said they always put back some corn, some suet, or some other food material in exchange for the beans they took out. in that way they said both they and the little animals obtained a variety in their food supply. they said they thought it very wrong to deprive the animals of their store without such payment, but that it was fair if they gave a fair exchange. the people of the dakota nation speak of the wood-mice or voles by the designation of "hintunka people." in the dakota theory of the universe they personify the maternal power and spirit by the name hunka. hunka is the mystic all-mother in nature, the mother of all living beings, plant or animal, which of course includes mankind. for they do not think of mankind as being apart from nature and the community of life in the world. the dakotas have a moral story which is told as follows: a certain woman went and plundered the store-house of some hintunka people. she robbed them of their entire food supply without even giving them anything at all in return. the next night this woman who had robbed the hintunka people of all their food supply heard a woman down in the woods crying and saying "oh, what will my poor children do?" it was the voice of one of the hintunka women crying over her hungry children. the same night the woman who had done the wrong had a dream. in her dreams hunka appeared to her and said "you should not have taken the food from the hintunka people. take back the food to them, or else your own children shall cry for food." the next morning the woman told her husband what hunka had said to her. her husband said "you would better do as hunka tells you to do." but the woman was hard-hearted and perverse and would not restore to the hintunka people the food of which she had robbed them, neither would she give them anything in exchange. a short time after this a great prairie fire came, driven by a strong wind, and swept over the place where this unjust woman and her family were camping. the fire burned up her tipi and everything it contained, and they barely escaped with their lives. they had no food nor shelter and they had to wander on the prairie destitute. the bean-mouse and its works are regarded with respect, admiration and reverence by the people of the various indian tribes which benefit by its labor. they feel very resentful towards any seeming tendency to meddle unwarrantedly with its winter store-houses. upon hearing of the desire of a white man to make a photograph of such a store-house an old man of the teton-dakota on the standing rock reservation expressed bitter resentment and declared himself ready to fight to prevent such a thing from being done. he said "we have enough misfortune already, counting the war and the epidemic of influenza, without inviting further disaster by such sacrilege." in the month of november, after the bean mice have harvested their beans and laid them up in their store-houses for the winter, the people often go out alone and sit near some such store-house in silent meditation on the ways of providence. at that time of the year the missionaries and priests are often pained and puzzled because of the absence of some of their church members from sunday service or from mass on sunday morning. they do not know, and likely would not appreciate or understand the feeling which has caused these people to go out at such a time, not to the church but out to the quiet place under the open heaven where they sit upon the lap of mother earth to reverently and thankfully meditate upon the mysteries of nature and the wonderful provisions of god in nature. at such times they like to bring in to their homes or to their churches some object connected with the bean mouse and his marvelous ways and work. if they find some beans which the bean mouse has spilled in transportation to his store-house, or a tree-leaf which they suppose he has used as his sled for carrying his beans from field to store-house, they will bring in such objects and lay them up reverently in the home or in the church with devout regard for prayerful meditation. indians say that the bean mouse uses a leaf of the boxelder tree, or sometimes another kind of leaf of suitable shape, as a sled for gathering his stores. at one time an old blind man of the teton-dakota on the standing rock reservation on the upper missouri river went out to the vicinity of a vole's store-house to meditate and pray. a man saw him and quietly approached within hearing distance. as the old man was blind he did not perceive the approach of the observer. thinking himself alone in the presence of the powers of nature, this devout old man, gave expression to his religious feeling in the following prayer: "thou who art holy, pity me and help me i pray. thou art small, but thou art sufficiently large for thy place in the world. and thou art sufficiently strong also for thy work, for holy wakantanka constantly strengthens thee. thou art wise, for the wisdom of holiness is with thee constantly. "may i be wise in all my heart continually, for if an attitude of holy wisdom leads me on, then this shadow-troubled life shall come into constant light." tipsin: an important native food plant over all the dry prairies of the great plains region there grows a plant (=psoralea esculenta=), which was an important item of the food supplies of all the tribes of the region. it is a species which belongs botanically to the bean family. the part used for food is the large root, which is stored with proteid and starchy matter. the root is about the size of a hen's egg. the stem of the plant is bushy and branched; the leaves are trifoliate. the leaves and stems of the plant are hairy, giving it a grayish-green appearance. the flowers are set in close racemes at the ends of the branches, and are bluish in color and of bean blossom shape. in the journals of the early travellers mention of this plant is often found under the name of "pomme blanche" or "pomme de prairie," the name by which the french traders and trappers called it, for they learned to live upon the native products of the land. english speaking people coming later, and depending not so much on native products, did not supply names for them, not considering them of enough importance. the name which i have given it for a common english name is an approximation to, and an adaptation of the name of this plant in the dakota language. tipsin roots are gathered in june or early july. they were used fresh when gathered, and they were also gathered in quantity and peeled and dried for future use. the women gathered them by the use of digging sticks. they had their children with them to look for the plants while they dug them. because of the branching habit of the plant the mother would say to her children, "see, they point to each other. now here is one, notice the directions in which its arms point and you will find others." so the children would start, each in the direction of one of the branches, and of course, if they followed in any direction and kept close watch they would find another. the idea of the plants pointing to each other kept the children's attention fixed. how the people obtained the precious gift of corn all the tribes which cultivated corn had legends accounting for its acquisition. many of these are very interesting and beautiful. in the sacred legends of the omaha, of which account is given in "the omaha tribe," twenty-seventh annual report of the bureau of american ethnology, by alice fletcher and francis la flesche, occurs the following legend of the finding of corn: "then a man in wandering about found some kernels, blue, and red, and white. he thought he had secured something of great value, so he concealed them in a mound. one day he thought he would go to see if they were safe. when he came to the mound he found it covered with stalks having ears bearing kernels of these colours. he took an ear of each kind and gave the rest to the people to experiment with. they tried it for food, found it good, and ever since have called it their life. as soon as the people found the corn good, they thought to make mounds like that in which the kernels had been hid. so they took the shoulder blade of an elk and built mounds like the first and buried the corn in them. so the corn grew and the people had abundant food." while the legend does not designate what tribe it was which first obtained corn, it is probably to be identified with the following fuller account which is also told in the omaha sacred legends, and which recites that they first learned of corn and obtained seed of it from the arikara. the story tells how the arikara first obtained corn by divine favour, and then how they gave it to other tribes, among these fortunate ones being the omaha. it should be remembered that at the time the omaha came to where they now reside and have resided for some centuries, the arikara were in the region of what is now northern nebraska, so they were then neighbors of the omaha. no doubt the declaration of the legend that the omahas did first obtain corn from the arikara is based on fact, in that corn culture among the omaha had been borrowed from the arikara, who later migrated farther north along the upper missouri river. the story runs thus: "the arikara were the first to obtain the maize. a young man went out hunting. he came to a high hill, and, looking down upon a valley, he saw a buffalo bull standing in the middle of a bottom land lying between two rivers at their confluence. as the young man searched the surroundings to find how he might approach the buffalo he was impressed with the beauty of the landscape. the banks of the two rivers were low and well timbered. he observed that the buffalo stood facing north; he saw also that he could not approach from any side within bowshot. he thought that the only way to get a chance to shoot the buffalo would be to wait until the animal moved close to the banks of one of the rivers, or to the hills where there were ravines and shrubs. so the young man waited. the sun went down and the buffalo had not moved; the young man went home disappointed. he lay awake nearly all night brooding over his disappointment, for food had become scarce and the buffalo would have afforded a good supply. before dawn the young man arose and hastened to the place where he had discovered the buffalo to see whether the animal might be somewhere near, if it had moved. just as he reached the summit of the hill, where he was the day before, the sun arose, and he saw that the buffalo was in the same spot. but he noticed that it was now facing toward the east. again the young man waited for the animal to move, but again the sun went down while the buffalo remained standing in the same spot. the hunter went home and passed another restless night. he started out again before dawn and came to the top of the hill just as the sun arose, and saw the buffalo in the same place still, but it had now turned to face the south. the young man waited and watched all day, but when darkness came he once more had to go away disappointed. he passed another sleepless night. his desire to secure game was mixed with curiosity to know why the buffalo should so persistently remain in that one spot without eating or drinking or lying down to rest. he rose upon the fourth morning before dawn, his mind occupied with this curiosity, and made haste to reach the hill to see if the buffalo still stood in the same place. morning light had come when he arrived at the hill, and he saw that the buffalo was standing in exactly the same place, but had turned around to face the west. he was determined now to know what the animal would do, so he settled down to watch as he had throughout the three previous days. he now began to think that the animal was acting in this manner under the influence of some unseen power for some mysterious purpose, and that he, as well as the buffalo, was controlled by the same influence. darkness again came upon him and the animal was still standing in the same position. the young man returned home, but he was kept awake all night by his thoughts and wondering what would come of this strange experience. he rose before dawn and hastened again to the mysterious scene. as he reached the summit of the hill dawn spread across all the land. eagerly he looked. the buffalo was gone! but just where the buffalo had been standing there appeared something like a small bush. the young man now approached the spot with a feeling of curiosity and of awe, but also something of disappointment. as soon as he came near he saw that what had appeared from a distance like a small bush was a strange unknown plant. he looked upon the ground and saw the tracks of the buffalo; he observed that they turned from the north to the east, and to the south, and to the west; and in the centre there was but one buffalo track, and out of it had sprung this strange plant. he examined the ground all around the plant to find where the buffalo had left the place, but there were no other footprints except those he had already seen near the plant. he made haste to reach his home village. there he notified the chiefs and elders of his people concerning the strange experience which he had had. led by the young man they proceeded to the place of the buffalo and examined the ground with care, and found that what he had told them was true. they found the tracks of the buffalo where he had stood and where he had turned, but could find no trace of his coming to the place nor of his going from it. now while all these men believed that this plant had been given to the people in this mysterious manner by wakanda for their use, still they were not sure what that use might be nor in what manner it should be used. the people knew of other plants that were useful for food, and the season for their ripening, and, believing that the fruit of this strange plant would ripen in its proper time, they arranged to guard and protect it carefully, awaiting with patience the time of its ripening and further revelation of its purpose. "after a time a spike of flowers appeared at the top of the plant, but from their knowledge of other plants they knew that the blossom was but the flower and not the fruit. but while they watched this blossom, expecting it to develop into fruit, as they expected it would, a new growth appeared from the joints of the plant. they now gave special attention to the new growth. it grew larger, and finally something appeared at the top which looked like hair. this, in the course of time, turned from pale green to dark brown, and after much discussion the people concluded that this growth at the side of the plant was its fruit, and that it had ripened. until this time no one had dared to approach within touch of the plant. although they were anxious to know the uses to which the plant could be put, or for which it was intended, no one dared to touch it. while the people were assembled around the plant uncertain and undetermined how to approach the examination of it to learn its possible use, a youth stepped forward and spoke: "'every one knows how my life from childhood has been worse than useless, that my life among you has been more evil than good. therefore since no one would regret, should any evil befall me, let me be the first to touch this plant and taste of its fruit, so that you may not suffer any harm and that you may learn if the plant possesses qualities which may be for our good.' when the people gave their assent the youth stepped forward and placed his hands over the top of the plant and brought them down by the sides of the plant to the roots in the manner of giving thanks and blessing. he then grasped the fruit, and, turning to the people, said, 'it is solid; it is ripe.' very gently then he parted the husks at the top, and again turning to the people, he said, 'the fruit is red.' then he took a few of the grains, showed them to the people, then ate them, and replaced the husks. the youth suffered no ill effects, and the people were convinced that this plant was given them for food. in the autumn, when the prairie grass had turned brown, the stalks and leaves of this plant turned brown also. the fruit was plucked and put away with carefulness. the next spring the kernels were divided among the people, four to each family. the people removed to the place where the strange plant had appeared, and there they built their huts along the banks of the two rivers. when the hills began to be green from the new prairie grass, the people planted the kernels of this strange plant, having first built mounds like the one out of which the first plant grew. to the great joy of the people the kernels sprouted and grew into strong healthy plants. through the summer they grew and developed, and the fruit ripened as did that of the original plant. the fruit was gathered and some was eaten, and was found to be good. in gathering the fruit the people discovered that there were various colours--some ears were white and others were blue, some were red, others were yellow. "the next season the people gathered a rich harvest of this new plant. in the autumn these people, the arikara, sent invitations to a number of different tribes to come and visit them. six tribes came; one of these was the omaha. the arikara were very generous in the distribution of the fruit of this new plant among their guests, and in this manner a knowledge of the plant came to the omaha." a group of pawnee hymns to corn the pawnee had migrated from the distant southwest into the plains region, finally arriving at the region drained by the republican, the platte, and the niobrara rivers. corn was native in mexico, and had been introduced into the plains by gradual adaptation in cultivation along the line of migration of the pawnee nation. these hymns express something of the high value which the people placed upon corn as an item of their daily sustenance. they also reflect something of the scenery of the plains landscape. these hymns are from an ancient pawnee ritual which is given entire in the twenty-second annual report of the bureau of american ethnology, part . mother corn i mother with the life-giving power now comes, stepping out of far-distant days she comes, days wherein to our fathers gave she food; as to them, so now unto us she gives, thus she will to our children faithful be. mother with the life-giving power now comes! ii mother with the life-giving power is here. stepping out of far distant days she comes. now she forward moves, leading as we walk toward the future, where blessings she will give, gifts for which we have prayed granting to us. mother with the life-giving power is here! leadership of mother corn i the mother leads and we follow on, her devious pathway before us lies. she leads us as were our fathers led down through the ages. ii the mother leads and we follow on, her pathway straight, where a stage each day we forward walk, as our fathers walked down through the ages. the two preceding hymns reflect the fact that corn was introduced by the pawnee from their more ancient homeland in the faraway southwest in remotely past time into the region of their later residence in the plains. they also reflect the importance which corn had in the everyday life of this people. the following hymn to mother corn as guide is expressive of the sense of vastness and awesomeness of the great extent of the plains, and something of its grimness. guidance of mother corn i looking o'er the prairie, naught our eyes discern there, wide the land stretches out before us; then we cry aloud to mother corn: "doth thy pathway lie here?" ii heeding now our crying, while our eyes she opens, mother corn moveth out before us on the lonely prairie, where we see straight the pathway lies there! * * * * * the following hymn of thanks for the corn shows something of the religious feeling of the pawnee and their gratitude to providence for the gift of corn. a hymn of thanks to mother corn i see! the mother corn comes hither, making all hearts glad! making all hearts glad! give her thanks, she brings a blessing; now, behold! she is here! ii yonder mother corn is coming, coming unto us! coming unto us! peace and plenty she is bringing; now, behold! she is here! the forgotten ear of corn a woman of the arikara tribe was harvesting her crop of corn, making ready to store it away in a safe place where she might be able to get it for use during the long cold winter. she went along gathering the ears and placing them in convenient heaps so that she could gather them up to carry to the storage place she had prepared. when she had finished her work she started to go, but she heard a voice like the voice of a little child, crying and calling pitifully: "oh, do not leave me! do not go away without me." the woman was astonished at what she supposed was the voice of a lost child. she said to herself: "what is this? can it be some child has wandered and has been lost in my cornfield? i must go and look for it." so she laid down her burden of gathered corn, and went back into the field to make search. but she found no child anywhere in the field. then she started once more to take up her burden and leave the field. but again she heard the plaintive little voice crying: "oh, do not leave me! do not go away without me." then she went back into the field and searched again for a long time. after diligent search she found one little ear of corn which had been covered by stalks and leaves. it was the little ear of corn which had been crying, fearing to be left to die in the field. so all indian women are very careful in gathering their crops so that nothing shall be lost or wasted of the good gifts of the great mystery, for they are accounted sacred and holy, and it would be wicked to treat them with neglect or indifference. how the usefulness of wild rice was discovered _a chippewa myth_ wenibozho and his grandmother, nokomis, lived together in a lodge by themselves. when he approached manhood his grandmother exhorted him to exert himself, to learn to endure hardship, loneliness, cold and hunger and thirst, for such experience is the proper training for a young man. a young man needs such training so that when overtaken by misfortune he shall be brave and resourceful; so that he may be able to take care of himself and of any who may be dependent upon him. so, one day wenibozho told his grandmother he was going away into the wilderness where he had never been before, so that he could be cast upon his own resources to try his strength and courage and wit. he was gone many days and nights, wandering through the forest and beside streams and lakes. he subsisted upon such fruits, seeds, roots and tubers as he was able to find, and upon the flesh of animals he was able to shoot with his bow and arrow which he had brought with him. one day he came to a lake in which was growing a great quantity of beautiful, feathery wild rice, swaying over the water in the gentle breeze. from the bark of a birch tree he fashioned a canoe in which he rowed out upon the lake and gathered a quantity of the wild rice. he did not know the wild rice was useful for food, for he had never seen it before, but he admired its beauty. he took the wild rice which he had gathered to his grandmother. he told her of the beautiful plant which he had found in the lake and that he had brought to her some of the seed of the plant. this seed they sowed in another lake near the place where he lived with his grandmother, for he hoped to have the beautiful plant growing where he might often enjoy its beauty. again he went away into the forest so that he might become accustomed to endure hardships and also that he might learn wisdom from the living creatures, not only from the moving creatures, but also from those other living creatures, the plants of all kinds. while walking he thought he heard a voice saying, "sometimes they eat us." he stopped and listened and again he heard the words "sometimes they eat us." this time he perceived that the words came from some bushes near which he was passing. finally he spoke, saying, "to whom are you talking?" he was told that he was the one to whom the bush was speaking, so he dug up the plant and found that it had a long root. he tasted the root and it was pleasant to the taste, so he dug more, and ate a great many, so many that he was made ill. he was too ill to travel, so he lay there three days. finally he was able to rise and move on, but he was hungry and weak. as he passed along other plants spoke to him, but he was now afraid to eat of them. then, as he was walking along a stream he saw some bunches of grass growing up out of the water which beckoned to him and said, "sometimes they eat us." he was so hungry, and the graceful grass was so tempting, that he was constrained to gather some seeds of it and eat. the taste was pleasing, and its effect upon his hunger was so gratifying that he said, "o, you are indeed good! what are you called?" the grass replied, "we are called manomin," which is the name which the chippewa people call this plant. wenibozho waded out into the water and gathered the grains by handfuls and ate it, and so continued till his hunger was fully satisfied. from eating the manomin he suffered no ill effects whatever, but was strengthened wonderfully. finally he remembered the grain which he had discovered on his former journey and which he and his grandmother, nokomis, had sown in the lake near their home. when he returned and found it growing and compared it with this grain which he had now found to be so good, he perceived that it was the same sort. so he found that this beautiful grass which he had growing in the lake near home was really manomin, as pleasant to the taste and as satisfying to hunger as it was beautiful to the eyes. ever since that time the chippewas have known how to value the good gift of manomin. a story of the sunflower _a story from the dakota nation_ once on a time, long ago, a company of men were going upon a war expedition. and now as they were within the country of the enemy they were proceeding very cautiously. one morning very early they heard what seemed to be the sound of someone singing in a tremulous voice, coming from the direction toward which they were marching. they stopped and stood still to listen. as they stood thus listening it seemed to them that the singer, whoever he might be, must be a clown, for he was singing a clown song. there was not light enough to see the singer. but they waited silently and anxiously peering ahead in the direction from which came the sound of the singing. at the first glimmer of the dawn light they were able to make out the appearance of a man walking with an awkward shuffling gait. his robe was ragged and his leggings drooped down slouchingly in wrinkles about his ankles as he walked. he had great circles about his eyes painted a bright yellow and he was singing a clown song in a husky wheezy voice. so they stood in wonder regarding the clown who was coming toward them. he was coming toward the sun rising and as the daylight grew brighter they were astonished to see the man suddenly changed to a sunflower. and ever since that time, it is said, the sunflower is inclined to face toward the sun. dakota folklore of the spiderwort the spiderwort (=tradescantia bracteata=) and (=tradescantia occidentalis=) is a beautiful native prairie flower which is known under numerous popular names. it is called spiderwort, spider lily, ink flower, king's crown, and various other names. it has been proposed to add to the list another name, "flower-of-romance." this name is proposed from the circumstance of a bit of pleasing sentiment connected with this flower in the folklore of the dakota nation of indians. it is a charmingly beautiful and delicate flower, deep blue in color, with a tender-bodied plant of graceful lines. there is no more appealingly beautiful flower on the western prairies than this one when it is sparkling with dewdrops in the first beams of the rising sun. there is about it a suggestion of purity, freshness and daintiness. when a young man of the dakota nation is in love, and walking alone on the prairie finds this flower blooming, he stops and sings to it a song in which he personifies it with the qualities of his sweetheart's personality as they are called to his mind by the appearance of the flower before him, its characteristics figuratively suggesting the characteristics of her whose image he carries romantically in his mind and heart. in his mind the beauties of the flower and the charms of the girl are mutually transmuted and flow together into one image. the words of his song, translated from the dakota language into the english, are something like this: "tiny, gladsome flower, so winsome and modest, thou art dainty and sweet, for love of thee i'd die." stories of the four-footed people the faithful dog the dog was the companion and servant of the people over all parts of north america, and previous to the introduction of the horse into the western hemisphere by the spaniards, the dog was the only domestic animal which the indians had. after horses were introduced by the spaniards, they soon came into use by the indians, and in a comparatively short time they were widely spread over the continent. but in former days the dog was the only beast of burden which the indians had. they served as watchers at night, as companions and helpers in the chase, and as bearers of burdens in transportation service. once on a time a hunting party of men of the dakota nation were in the buffalo grazing country in the time of the winter hunt. scouts were sent out each day to look for a herd and to bring back report to the officers. one day one of the scouts discovered a herd near a certain lake. he came into camp in the evening, as soon as he could after he found the herd. at once he went according to the law and rendered his report to the proper officers. after reporting he went to his lodge and had his evening meal and then lay down to rest from the weariness of the day's scouting. the officers held council and made the plans for the next day's activities of the hunting field. then they sent the herald around the camp to announce the orders for the next day. at the earliest light next morning every one in camp was up and making preparations for the day's work. it was yet early in the day when the hunters reached the lake where the scout had discovered the buffalo herd the previous day. here they found the buffaloes still feeding. at the command of the officers the hunters and their dogs were deployed to surround the herd for the slaughter, for the meat supply of the people had become low, and at this opportunity they must replenish their provision. the herd was feeding upon a strip of land which was surrounded on three sides by a lake. the plan was to advance upon the herd from the base of this strip of land and force them out into the lake where the huge animals would be at a disadvantage upon the slippery ice. the men and dogs charged upon the herd and soon the great mass of shaggy beasts were forced out upon the treacherous ice where they were struggling in great confusion. many were killed before the herd finally reached the shore of the lake and scrambled up the steep bank and fled away over the plain. the sun was already past the middle of the sky and the hunters were busy with the work of skinning the carcasses and dressing the beef, making ready to carry back to camp their prize of meat, hides, and other useful products, when suddenly they saw and felt a great change in the sky and in the air. the threatening signs were evident of the swift approach of a blizzard, the dreadful and terrific winter storm of fierce, roaring wind and driving snow and frightful cold which frequently sweeps over the northern plains. the hunters made haste to reach camp which had been made in the shelter of the woods not far away. here a certain number had been detailed by the officers to make camp and to gather firewood, while the others had been taking care of the meat. now as the fearful storm threatened, they gathered in the camp bringing in what they could carry of the meat supply. soon the hunters were refreshing themselves with freshly broiled steaks which were much relished by the hungry men, who had eaten nothing since the early morning just before they had broken camp. the dogs too were given their share. the storm was now upon them in its fury; and all about was a smothering, dizzying swirl of whiteness as impenetrable as the blackness of night. the gale of wind roared unceasingly; the myriad millions of tiny snow particles ground upon each other in the swirl of the storm, each infinitesimal impact adding to the aggregate of reverberation of sound, while the skin tents hummed like enormous drums. from time to time those who were already in camp shouted to guide the later comers who gave answering shouts and came one after another staggering into camp exhausted by the buffeting of the storm. at last only one was missing. the herd scout, who had found and reported the herd the day before; he and his faithful dog had not yet come in. the fury of the storm throughout the night and the next day prevented the possibility of going to look for the missing man. toward morning following the second night of the storm its fury abated. as is usual, at the end of a blizzard, it was followed by an extraordinary calm. the drifted plain lay as still and white as marble. the stars glistened coldly like ice crystals in the sky. the air was so clear that the least sound made by any moving creature was magnified in the stillness. the hunting camp awoke. suddenly the game call of the great gray wolf was heard. and soon the hunters saw a great number of these gaunt gray creatures out upon the ice of the lake and on the plain, digging out the white mounds which were the snowdrifts about the carcasses of the buffaloes which the hunters had been obliged to leave when the storm came upon them. and now among the wolf cries another sound was heard,--the defiant barking of a dog! it was the scout's dog. the men hurried toward the slaughter field to kill or drive away the wolves. some wolves were dragging away a buffalo carcass, and from among the snarling howling pack about this carcass the hunters could distinctly hear the hoarse barking of their missing friend's dog, and occasionally they could hear a strangely muffled shout of a man sounding as though it came from under the ice. the hunters finally reached the place to which the carcass had been dragged by the wolves. as the men came near the wolves ran away and the men saw the dog standing by the carcass for a moment before he fell dead as they reached the place. the men with their knives cut open the abdominal cavity of the carcass and found the missing scout inside wrapped in his robe in a bed of grass and buffalo hair. when the storm had come upon him at his work he had seen that he could not reach the camp so he had opened two of the carcasses and removed the internal organs. in one he had made a bed for his dog, and in the other for himself for protection from the fury of the storm. the dog had kept an opening to his shelter, but the man had closed the entrance of his own after he was in, and the hide had frozen solid, making him a prisoner. when the wolves came the dog was able to free himself and tried to defend his imprisoned master, regardless of his own safety. he had been mortally wounded before the hunters could save him. as soon as the scout was released he inquired for the dog, his friend and defender. when he saw that his loyal friend was dead, having given up his life in defense of his master, the scout was deeply moved with grief. he knelt down and stroked the head of the dead dog, and said, "ah, my friend; you were courageous and faithful unto death. and you died like a brave warrior. you shall have the funeral of a dead warrior." so with all due ceremony the scout carried the body of the dog to the top of a hill overlooking the lake where he had given up his life in doing his duty. there the scout laid the body. over it he built up a tomb of boulders which he gathered from the hills. then he laid upon it offerings of red paint and of food according to the funeral custom of his people, and they sang the farewell song for the dead. ever since that time this hill has been known to the dakotas as the grave of the dog. how coyote chief was punished _a mandan story_ coyote chief was out hunting one day, and he came upon a buffalo bull grazing. "brother," he said, "you have nothing to do just now. let us run a race to see which of us is the swifter." "all right," said the buffalo, "let us run." "i shall first go and prepare a place for the race," coyote chief said, "then i shall come back for you." so coyote chief found a high steep bank and placed on the very edge of it a small heap of stones. then he returned to the buffalo and said, "everything is now ready. let us race over to yonder heap of stones which i have set up for a goal. when we are almost to the goal let us shut our eyes and run as hard as we can." and so they ran toward the heap of stones and the buffalo ran over the bank and was killed by falling, just as coyote chief had planned. but coyote chief had nothing with which to skin the buffalo and cut up and prepare the meat. so he walked along a little way and came to a small clump of timber. as he approached the timber he called out, "brothers, give me a knife." and they gave him a knife. then he went on to another clump of timber. here he called out, "brothers, give me an earthen pot." and they gave him an earthen pot. he went on again to another clump of timber, where he called out, "brothers, give me a horn spoon." and they gave him a horn spoon. then coyote chief went back to the place where the buffalo had fallen, and there he built a hunter's lodge of leafy branches of trees. then he skinned the buffalo and pegged out the skin upon the ground and scraped it. next he cut up the meat, and some of it he cut into strips and hung it up to dry. coyote chief had fox for a servant, to run errands and to work about the house. and he treated fox badly and did not give him enough to eat. fox was hungry, as usual, and tried to help himself to some of the buffalo meat, but coyote chief saw him and was angry. he seized a brand from the fire and thrust it into fox's face, burning him thereby. fox was hurt so badly that he decided to run away, but he wished first to be revenged upon coyote chief. so he went around to all the other animals and told them how badly he had been used by coyote chief. the animals were sorry for him and seemed willing to help him to punish coyote chief. so they held a meeting and talked over the matter to decide upon the best way to do this. the decision of the council was that they should all go over to his house that night and eat up all his meat while he was asleep. coyote chief had worked hard all day to take care of his meat, and had not taken time to eat much. being tired after his day's work he went to bed early. but he was anxious lest some one might come and take his meat while he slept, so before going to sleep he said, "now my members, you must watch for me while i sleep. my eyes, if anyone peeps in you must stare hard at him. my ears, if you hear a sound, you must wiggle. my arms, if anyone comes in you must thrash around. my legs, if any one comes near, you must kick." then he went to sleep. that night all the animals gathered at coyote chief's house, but they were afraid to touch anything till they were sure he was sound asleep. so they sent magpie first to peep in at the door. magpie went and peeped in and saw coyote chief's eyes staring hard at him, and he went back and said, "he is not asleep, for his eyes stared at me." after a time crow was sent to find if coyote chief was not asleep. crow flew up and perched by the smoke-hole. when he looked in coyote chief's ears began to wiggle. crow went back and told the animals that coyote chief could not be asleep, for as soon as he looked in coyote chief's ears began to wiggle. a little later jack rabbit was sent to look. jack rabbit pushed in a little at the door, and coyote chief's arms began to move up and down. so jack rabbit went back and reported that coyote chief must still be awake. the animals again waited, and then sent fox. fox went inside, and then coyote chief's legs began to kick, so he ran out and told the others that coyote chief was still awake. now, after waiting quite a long time, the animals sent mouse. mouse went in and saw that coyote chief seemed to be sound asleep. he went up and ran over his legs and there was no motion; then he ran over his chest and still coyote chief was not disturbed. at last he ran over his face, and coyote chief did not stir. so mouse went and told the others that coyote chief was surely asleep. then they came in and ate up all the meat except a few scraps which dropped while they were eating. when they had finished eating they went away without having wakened coyote chief. the next morning when coyote chief awoke, he was very hungry because he had eaten little the day before, and had worked hard; but he found his meat was all gone, and he said to himself, "oh, why did i not eat the meat yesterday instead of waiting!" then, because he was so hungry, he searched about on the ground and found some scraps of meat and some small bits of fat. all these he gathered up on a robe. he put fresh wood upon the fire, and then sat down by the fireplace with the robe over his knees to eat the little he had. but just then a spark shot out from the fire and lighted on his hand, which hurt him so that he jumped up suddenly, spilling into the fire all the shreds of meat and fat which he had so carefully gathered. so coyote chief got none of his meat, and was punished for the bad way he had treated fox. the skunk and the bear _a mandan story_ one day a skunk was going somewhere, travelling quietly along a trail, thinking of his own affairs. he did not know it, but a bear was coming along the same trail towards him. neither the bear nor the skunk knew that the other was on the trail until suddenly they met. they both stopped. then the skunk said to the bear, "you are on my road. turn out and let me pass!" the bear replied, "not so. it is you who are on my road. get out of my way!" but the skunk said, "you, yourself must turn aside." the bear then said, "unless you do as i tell you i shall eat you at once. i tell you that you are on my road and must stand aside. i wonder how skunk meat would taste if i should eat some." the skunk said, "i wonder how bear flesh would taste if i should eat some." then suddenly the skunk threw up his brush and sprinkled the bear full in the face with his dreadful scent. the bear tumbled out of the path, howling in misery, and clawing at his nose and eyes. he could not see, and was almost suffocated. as for the skunk, he passed on his way as if nothing had happened. the song of the old wolf there is a story told among the people of the dakota nation that once on a time an old man went out, to be alone upon a high hill above the missouri river to give himself to meditation and prayer. he chose this situation because of the grandeur and majesty of the view, of the great sweep of the prairie plains and hills, one hill beyond another away and away to the far horizon. below flowed the wonderful and mysterious river, whose waters came down from the mighty mountains at the west and rolled on and on past the villages of many different nations, finally reaching the great salt water. as the old man thus sat meditating and considering all the manifestations of life and power and mystery of earth and sky, he espied out upon the prairie a group of wolves trotting toward the river. when they reached the river they plunged in and swam across to the other side; all but one old one who was now too enfeebled by age to dare try his strength against the swift and powerful current of the river. this old wolf sat down upon the bank of the river and watched his companions as they swam across and trotted away out of sight on the other side. when they had disappeared from sight he raised his muzzle towards the sky and mournfully sang in a man's voice the following song: all o'er the earth i've roamed, i've journeyed far and wide; my spirit haste and go, i'm nothing, nothing now, i'm nothing, nothing now. missouri river, flow, thou sacred water flow; my spirit haste and go, i'm nothing, nothing now, i'm nothing, nothing now. after the old wolf had sung this song he wearily made his way to the top of a hill and lay down in the warm sunshine, in the shelter of a rock and there waited until his spirit went away. and so now, when old men of the dakota nation feel the infirmities of age creeping upon them, and as though they had been left behind in life's march, when they feel the depression of loneliness, will often go out alone to the summit of some high hill overlooking the missouri river, and sitting there in solitude will muse upon their activities and noteworthy deeds in the past, of their companions of former days now long gone from them, and contrast all this with their present inactivity and loneliness. then they will sadly and quaveringly sing this "song of the old wolf." * * * * * note.--the english translation and rendering into verse is the work of dr. a. mcg. beede, of fort yates, north dakota. the original song in the dakota language is as follows: maka takomni tehan omawani; minagi yayayo, wana matakuni, mni-shoshe yayo mni wakan yayo; minagi yayayo, wana matakuni, wana matakuni, o he-he-he! stories of the people of the air folk sayings about the meadowlark the cheerful animation and lively manner of the meadowlark have made it a favourite with all people who are acquainted with it, both whites and indians. and both whites and indians attach words of their several languages to the notes of the bird. among sayings in the english language attributed to the notes of the meadowlark are some expressions of banter and raillery. farmers say that early in springtime the meadowlark perches jauntily upon the top of a fence-post and calls mockingly to them "you sowed your wheat too soon! you sowed your wheat too soon!" another taunting expression fitted to the meadowlark's notes is addressed to girls and young women; it is "you think you're pretty, don't you?" these locutions in english are in accord with the tone of many sayings ascribed to the notes of the meadowlark by the hidatsa tribe of north dakota, and with their name of the bird, =wia-akumakihishe=, which means "scolding or shrewish woman," for they say that the meadowlark says such taunting, tormenting and aggravating things. one of these taunting expressions is "=kitho karishtiditore=," which is a most exasperating saying. =kitho= means "that insignificant one," and =karishtiditore= means "good-for-nothing fellow." the omahas also put words of their language to the notes of the meadowlark. one of these is =snite thingthi tegaze=, which means "winter will not come back." a little mixed-blood girl in the omaha tribe was named marguerite. now the omaha language does not contain the sound of the letter "r," so in trying to pronounce the foreign name of marguerite they make it =magathiche=. one day a friend of this little girl's father was at their house, and he was playfully teasing her because he was very fond of her. he said, of course speaking in the omaha language, "listen! do you hear that bird telling about you? he says: '=magathiche hthitugthe!='" the word =hthitugthe= in the omaha language means "of a bad disposition," so her old friend was teasing her by putting words to the bird notes which meant "marguerite is of a bad disposition," or "marguerite is naughty!" one of the sayings which the pawnees fit to the notes of the meadowlark in their language is "=kichikakikuridu!=" which means "i am not afraid!" the meadowlark is a great favourite with the people of the dakota nation. an old man of that nation was asked if his people ever used the meadowlark for food. he said they did not. when it was said that white men sometimes eat them, he said he knew that. then, when asked why dakotas would not eat the meadowlark, he said, "we think too much of them. they are our friends." they call the meadowlark "the bird of promise," and "the bird of many gifts," for they say it promises good things to its friends, the dakotas. they apply words of the dakota language to the songs of the bird. they say it calls to the people with promises and with words of encouragement and good cheer, and that it gives counsel and advice on all manner of subjects. one of the things which it used to sing out to the people was "=koda, pte kizhozho=," i. e., "friends, i whistle for the buffalo," that is to say, it would whistle to call the buffalo in order that its friends, the dakotas, might supply their needs of meat and clothing. a touch of dakota humour is shown in one saying attributed to the meadowlark's notes in these later times since the government has established schools on the reservations to teach the dakota children in the ways of the white men. they say that ofter now the meadowlark is to be seen flitting about the school grounds and singing, "one, two, three, epedo! one, two, three, epedo!" the dakota word =epedo= means "you shall say." the white people speak of the united states government as "uncle sam," but the people of the dakota nation call the government "=tunkashila=," which means "grandfather," a title of the highest respect. in the summer of , while the united states was at war with germany, many of the dakotas said they heard "the bird of promise" singing "=tunkashila ohiyelo!=" the dakota word "ohiyelo" means "will be victorious" or "will have the victory;" so the meadowlark, "the bird of promise," was singing to them "the united states will have the victory!" how the meadowlark won the race a young man named piya had a beautiful and lovely young wife and she was carried away by an evil monster who kept her hidden in his dwelling. the young man's grandmother was a very wise old woman. she had great knowledge of the birds and beasts and of the trees and other plants, and she had mysterious powers and could do many wonderful things. also she had taught her grandson many things, so that he too had uncommon knowledge and powers. now when the monster stole his wife away he came to his grandmother to ask her to help him recover his wife. before he came to her his grandmother knew he was in trouble, so when he came he found her waiting for him. she said "i will prepare you for this quest; but first bring to me a wolf, a turtle and a meadowlark." then she brought him food; and after he had eaten and rested he set out to find the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark. as he journeyed he found all of them, one after another, and invited them to eat with him. then he told of his grandmother's wish to have them to aid him in his quest. they each consented to help him provided the old woman would give him the thing most desired. the wolf said he wished to have a better fur coat so that the cold breath of old waziya, the old man winter, would not chill him. the turtle said, "insects bite me, but i will help you if i shall be given protection from insects which suck my blood." the meadowlark said "my voice is harsh and i can sing but one note and the magpie laughs at me. i will help you if i may be given a pleasing voice so that i can make the magpie ashamed." so the young man piya, the wizard, together with his three friends, the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark came back to the tipi of his grandmother. she was waiting and expecting him, and said, "grandson i knew you would come and bring with you those whom i want." she invited them into her tipi and prepared food and set it before them. the next morning piya told his grandmother that these friends he had brought had promised to help him if they should each be given what he most desired. then she told them if they would help her grandson she would give each one what he most wished. so they were all agreed. she told the wolf she wished him to give her grandson the cunning by which he could follow a hidden trail and find hidden things; she asked the turtle to give him the sense by which he could locate water, so that he should be able to avoid perishing of thirst in a desert land; and the lark was to give him power to hide himself without covering in the open prairie. in return for these gifts the wolf was to have for himself and all his people warm fur clothing so that they could laugh at waziya when he would blow his cold breath upon them. the turtle was promised that he should have the hard tough covering which he asked, so that insects could not bite him. the meadowlark was given a pleasing voice so that his songs would make the magpie ashamed. after the agreement was made the old woman told them that the quest on which they had to go would take them into a country where there would be no trees, nor much grass nor open trail, and but little water in the hidden springs. so the wizard, piya, and his companions, the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark set out upon the quest after the old woman had instructed them. the wolf taught him how to find hidden trails; the meadowlark taught him how to be hidden without covering, and the turtle taught him how to find hidden watersprings. so the help of these friends, together with the powers he already possessed, enabled piya finally to discover where his wife was hidden by the monster, and to rescue her. so they all came back to the tipi of the old woman. they all rejoiced; the young woman because she had been rescued from the power of the monster; the young man piya because he had found his wife; and the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark because they were to have the gifts which they had most desired. the old woman prepared a feast and they feasted until far into the night. next morning the old woman gave to the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark each the gift for which he had asked as a reward for helping the young man, and they set out together on the trail to return to their homes. as they journeyed they talked about the gifts which they had received. as they talked they fell into argument, each claiming that his gift was the best, and soon they were quarreling and were about to fight. but just then a young man came along the trail and he asked them why they were quarreling. they told him. he said that quarreling was foolish and would decide nothing, but that the only way to determine whose gift was the best was to find out which would help most in a trial of skill. the wolf proposed a trial in hunting, but the meadowlark and the turtle said they could not hunt. the turtle proposed a swimming contest, but the wolf and the meadowlark said they could not swim. then the meadowlark in his turn proposed a contest in singing, for he was very proud of his gift, but the wolf and the turtle protested that they could not sing. the young man suggested that they run a race. to this they all agreed. the young man told them they must run past a plum thicket, across a marsh and up to the top of a certain hill. there they would find white clay and colored clay. the winner of the race would be the one that first brought back to him some of the white clay. they set out upon the race. the wolf and turtle were running side by side; but the meadowlark fell far behind. when he came near the plum thicket he saw a bundle laid up in the forks of a plum bush. he paused and sniffed toward it and the scent of it was strange to him, and he became curious about it, and wanted to find out what was in the bundle. he asked the turtle to wait. the turtle said he would wait for him at the marsh. the wolf walked all round the bush and looked carefully at the bundle. then he rose up against the bush and sniffed at the bundle, but still he could not make out what was in it. he could not quite reach the bundle, so he leaped to try to pull it down. but as he did so the thorns pricked him. he jumped again and missed the bundle, but was pricked again by the thorns. now he became angry and determined he would get the bundle. after jumping many times and being always pricked by the thorns so that he had many wounds on his sides and back he finally pulled down the bundle. he was so angry that in his vexation he energetically shook it about so that it was shaken open and its contents smeared his wounds. this made his wounds itch so severely that he had to scratch himself, but this made him itch the more. he was in such torment that he scratched madly and tore his fur coat and was bleeding, so he forgot the race. the turtle ran on to the marsh and waited there as he had promised. after he had waited a long time he concluded the wolf had deceived him and had gone on to the hill. then he saw a small white puffball. it looked like a lump of white clay, so the thought came to him that he could deceive the young man with it and get even with the wolf for the trick he supposed the wolf had played upon him. so he took the puffball back and showed it to the young man. neither the meadowlark nor the wolf had returned yet, so the young man told the turtle he was the first to return bringing something to show that he had been to the top of the hill. now when the meadowlark ran by the plum thicket he saw the wolf jumping about one of the bushes trying to reach something which was there, so the meadowlark was encouraged to think he might still have some chance in the race. he ran on to the marsh, and there he saw the turtle waiting, so he was still more encouraged. he then ran on all the way to the top of the hill. he was so anxious and flustered when he reached there that instead of the white clay which the young man had specified as the token of having been to the goal, he made a mistake and picked up a lump of the yellow clay and turned to carry it back to the young man. as he was crossing back over the marsh again he stumbled and dropped the lump of clay into the black mud. he picked it up and hurried on, not stopping to clean off the black mud. when he came near to the young man he saw the turtle sitting there and smiling and looking very satisfied. the meadowlark then thought he had lost the race. he was so disappointed and discouraged that he wept. his tears washed the black mud off from the lump of clay and made a black stripe, while the yellow clay itself was washed down over the whole front of his clothes. at last the wolf came back scratching and howling in his misery. great patches of fur were torn from his clothes and his skin was raw and sore. the turtle taunted the wolf for his crying. he swaggered about and boasted that nothing could make him whimper and cry. the young man said that the turtle was the first to return, but that he must make good his boast that nothing could make him whimper if he should lose. the turtle declared that he would prove all he said in any way the young man should require. the young man then placed the puffball upon the turtle's back. the puffball very quickly increased in size and weight so that it was all the turtle could bear. it continued to increase in size until the turtle was borne down by it to the ground and his legs were bent. still the puffball continued to grow until the turtle's body was pressed flat by it, and his breath was pressed out of his body and he lay as if he were dead. then the puffball became as light as a feather and turned black. the turtle recovered his breath a little, but he was unable to straighten his legs or to regain the form of his body, so he was ashamed and drew in his head under his thick skin. then the young man laughed loud and long at the plight of the wolf, the turtle and the meadowlark, and told them now who he really was. he told them that he was iktomi, the trickster. he told them that because they had foolishly quarreled about the good gifts which the old woman had given to them, instead of making good use of them, they had given him the opportunity to play this trick upon them, the marks of which would be upon them, and upon their people forever. he said that because the wolf had meddled with something which was none of his affair he had brought upon himself the torments of the mange, and so it would always be with his people whenever they should do as he had done. he said that because the turtle had attempted to win by cheating, his legs and the legs of all his people should always be short and bent and their bodies should be flattened, so they could never run in a race. and because he had lied in saying the puffball was white clay, therefore he and his people should never again be able to speak, and they should always hide their heads for shame. as for the meadowlark, the young man said he had won the race, but because he had brought back the yellow clay instead of the white, therefore his clothes and the clothes of his people should always be yellow in front and there should be a black stripe over the yellow. indian folklore of the horned lark the name of this little bird in the dakota language is =ishtaniche-tanka= (big eye-tufts) from the tuft of feathers which it has over each eye. it is for the same reason that we call it "horned" lark. the dakotas say that this little bird foretells the weather. they say that when a hot dry time is coming in the summer the bird sounds a single sharp little note; but when rain is coming the bird is glad and continuously sings loudly and joyously, "=magazhu, magazhu, magazhu!=" in the dakota language the word for rain is =magazhu=. thus the bird is singing its joy for the rain which is coming. the name of this bird is =hupa-hishe= in the hidatsa language. in that language the word for moccasin is =hupa=, and the word =hishe= means wrinkled. this bird is called "wrinkled moccasin" because of its appearance in its characteristic habit of crouching upon the ground, where, by its grayish-brown color and its black markings it is made inconspicuous and hardly distinguishable, suggesting the appearance of a ragged, useless old moccasin. the hidatsas have a story of this bird that it was once acting as a spy in enemy country. so while it sat in its characteristic attitude of inconspicuousness, two of the enemy were coming along, when one thought he saw something. he stopped and said to his companion, "wait, what is that over there?" his companion glanced over and saw what appeared to him like nothing but a ragged, rotten old fragment of a worn out moccasin, and answered, "o, that is just an old wrinkled moccasin." so the bird escaped his enemies, and it is from that that the people call him "hupa-hishe." how it came about that geese migrate the teton-dakota have a story which says that "long, long time ago" (lila ehanna) the goose nation did not migrate to the south in the autumn, but remained here throughout the winter time. because of the rigor of the winter most of the people of the goose nation perished so that they were always a small and weak nation. at last one goose had a dream of the south-land, that it was pleasant even in winter, that the winter there was mild and that there was plenty of food there. so she began teaching the other geese that they should practice flying more and thus make their wings strong so they could fly to the south-land before winter time. some people of the goose nation believed the vision and began to practice flying to make their wings strong for the autumn journey. this caused discussion and dissension in the nation, and a law was made which banished the goose which had the vision. so they drove her out from among them. she practiced flying all summer and made her wings strong so that in the autumn she was able to fly to the pleasant south-land of which she had dreamed. the mysterious power which had given her the vision guided her on the long journey and she lived pleasantly through the winter time. after the first thunder in the springtime she flew back north to her nation. as always before, many of them had died during the cold winter-time from the fury of the storms and the scarcity of food. but she told them how pleasantly she had passed the time in the south-land, and they saw in what good health she was, so many more of them now believed her vision and her teaching. it was in this way that the geese learned to fly away to the south-land in the autumn to escape the storms and cold of winter in this land. the captive bird: a true story of childhood in the omaha tribe of nebraska indians in general have a close sympathy with nature and with all living creatures and aspects of nature. and the term living creatures includes plants as well as animals, all are living children of mother earth and have their rights to life according to indian thought. they do not think of humankind as being above and separate from all other creatures, but as fellow creatures in a world of life. the following incident, which took place about fifty years ago on the prairies of nebraska among a group of children of the omaha tribe, will serve to show the attitude quite commonly held by indians toward other forms of life. it might be well, also to mention in this connection that indian children were taught by their parents to be not wasteful and destructive of wild flowers, that they should not wantonly pluck them, for, they were told, if they did so they would thus destroy the flower babies and the flower nations would then be exterminated. indians feel a fearful dread of the consequences of interfering with the nice balance and adjustment of nature. it was a bright, warm summer afternoon in northern nebraska. the wild grass, waving in the summer breeze, was like a shimmering emerald sea, flecked with varied colour of the many different tribes of wild flowers. overhead was a brilliantly blue sky with here and there slow-sailing white clouds whose soft shadows came and passed, silent and entrancing, over the greenth of the prairie. and in all this scene the living creatures were moving, intent upon affairs of their own; the crickets and grasshoppers, and the small mammals among the grass, the butterfly flitting from flower to flower, the antelope grazing in groups, and now and then a hawk might be seen circling high overhead. across the prairie came a caravan of people with their camp equipage. a band of omahas was on the summer buffalo hunt. the men were widely deployed in front and over a wide extent on both sides far in advance of the moving column. they were on the lookout for signs of the herd. when a herd should be sighted, the scouts who had found them would at once report to the officers. when the camp was made the officers would confer and make plans for the surround and kill. the boys were employed in looking after the herd of extra horses; some of the women were with the train of pack animals looking after the baggage and camp equipment, others were scattered over the prairie along the line of march, carrying digging sticks and bags to gather tipsin roots for food. groups of small children, too small to have any particular tasks assigned to them were playing along the way, observing the ways of beast and bird and of insects, and admiring the brilliant wild flowers. one such group found a fledgling meadowlark, not yet able to fly. they captured it and brought it along with them when the band went into camp for the night. as the families sat about their tents waiting the preparation of the evening meal, the children showed their father the captive bird and told him how they caught it. he listened to their account and then told them something of the life and habits of the bird, its nesting and home life, of its love of life and freedom, and of its place in the world under the wise plans of the master of life. he brought the children to see the unhappiness and the terror which they had unwittingly brought upon the captive and the anxiety the mother bird would feel over its loss. then he said to them, "now children, take the little bird back to the place where you found it and set it down in the grass, and say 'o master of life, here is thy little bird which we have set free again. we are sorry that we took it away from its home and its people. we did not think of the sorrow we should cause. we wish to restore it and have it happy again with its people. may we be forgiven for our thoughtlessness and we will not do such wrong again.'" the children carried out their father's instructions and placed the little bird again as near as they could to the place where they had captured it and recited the prayer to the master of life which their father had admonished them to say. as they returned to the camp the quiet of the summer evening lay over all the land, the after-glow of the sunset was in the western sky, the white tents stood in a great circle upon the prairie, now dusky-green in the twilight which lay upon the land, a twinkling camp-fire before each tent. the children were thoughtful. they had had a glimpse of the unity of the universe. they never forgot the lesson. years passed, great changes came. the white people were coming into the land. old activities and industries of the indians were destroyed by the changes. the children of that little group went away from their people to attend the white men's schools, to learn the white men's ways and adapt themselves to those ways. but this did not cause them to forget altogether the wisdom and grace of their parental teaching. long afterward they told this little story to the writer, who now gives it to you, reader, and wishes that you, also may know that there be those in all lands and among all peoples who "do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with god." the chickadee the chickadee is a very popular bird among all the indian tribes where it is known. they all have many stories and sayings about it. they say of it that, though small, it is a very wise bird. it is like the wise men, the doctors and teachers among the people, who are learned in mysteries and the wonderful things of nature, who keep a calendar of the cycle of the days, months and seasons through the year by cutting marks upon a piece of wood which they have prepared for that purpose. this wise little bird is said also to keep account of the months. it is said that "in the beginning" the task of keeping account of the months was assigned to the chickadee. but instead of making notches in a piece of wood as the wise men do this wise bird's method is to make notches in its tongue; thus in september its tongue is single-pointed, in october it has two points, in november three, and so on until february, when it is said that its tongue has six points. then in march its tongue is again single-pointed and the count is begun again. so, it is said, the chickadee has been keeping the count of the months since the long ago, in the dim past, when the task was assigned to it in the time of beginnings, in the time when evil powers and monsters struggled mightily to overcome the good, and to destroy mankind by sending fierce storms and heavy snowfalls and shuddering cold winds upon the face of the earth. it was thus the evil powers sought to discourage and to overcome mankind. and so it is said that at one time the evil powers supposed that by stress of a long siege of cold and storms they had reduced mankind to famine. at this time they chose to send the chickadee as a messenger to find out the conditions and to bring back word to them. now when the chickadee came on his mission and appeared at the dwellings of men he was invited to enter. he was courteously given a place by the fireside to rest and warm himself. then food was brought to him. after he had eaten and refreshed himself he was anointed with fat, which was a symbol of plenty; then he was painted with red paint, which was for a symbol of the power and mystery of life. after these ceremonies and marks of respect his hosts quietly composed themselves to give attention to whatever their visitor should have to say as to the purpose of his visit. when he had stated his mission his hosts held counsel and formulated a reply for the messenger to take back to those who had sent him. he was bidden to say to them that mankind was still living and hopeful, and they ever would be; that they could not be daunted by discouragement, nor defeated by storms and stress, nor vanquished by hunger, nor overcome by any hardships; and that there never would be a time when there should not be men upon the earth. so this is the message which the chickadee brought to the evil powers which had sought to overcome mankind. the song of the wren _a pawnee story_ the incident of this story occurred in the long ago in the country of the pawnee nation, in the broad expanse of the platte river country in what is now the state of nebraska. the event was in the distant past before the pawnees had ever seen a white man, or any of his works or strange devices. the people of the pawnee nation lived in villages of houses built in the manner that the houses of pawnees had been built for generations. near their villages lay their fields of corn and other crops which they cultivated to supply themselves with food. it was a beautiful morning in early summer. the sky was clear and bright, the dawn-light was showing in the eastern sky. all the landscape lay as though still sleeping. there was no movement anywhere. a thoughtful priest had risen and had walked out upon the prairie away from the village so that he might view and meditate upon the beauty and mystery of the firmament of the heavens and of the plane of earth, and of the living creatures thereon, both animal creatures and plant creatures, for in his mind both were equally wonderful and equally interesting, as showing the power and the wisdom of the great mystery. so he walked and pondered upon all the beauty and mystery which lay about him, while the face of mother earth was still moist with the dew of sleep. in a moment the first rays of the sun shone across the land touching into sparkling brilliance the myriads of dewdrops, while a gentle movement ran through all the grasses and the wild flowers as they swayed to the rippling of the gentle morning breeze which pulsed over the prairie at the first touch of the morning gleam. where a moment before all had been so still and so silent now there was movement and sound. birds of many kinds raised their tuneful voices, showing their joy in life and in the beauty of the morning. the priest, whose mind and heart were open to all this beauty and melody, stood still and listened. in a moment, among all the other bird-songs, he heard one which was clearer and more remarkable than any of the others. this song was a most joyous cheerful sound, like happy laughter. as he approached he found that the joyous, laughing song came from a very tiny brown bird, no larger than his thumb. it was a wren, so small, so insignificant in comparison to the size and brilliant plumage of many of the other birds, yet it appeared to be the most whole hearted in joy and praise and delight in life, as the sweet stream of music welled from its little throat. the priest looked at the tiny bird, and wisely considered. he said to himself: "the great mystery has shown me here a wise teaching for my people. this bird is small and weak, but it has its proper place in the world of life and it rejoices in it and gives thanks with gladness. everyone can be happy, for happiness is not from without, but from within, in properly fitting and fulfilling each his own place. the humblest can have a song of thanks in his own heart." so he made a song and a story to be sung in a great religious ritual of his people, which was to them like our bible and prayer-book are to us. and the song and story which that thoughtful priest put into the ritual, was the story of the wren. and ever since that time so long ago, the song has been sung by the pawnees and has been handed down from generation to generation until this time. the war eagle and the jack-rabbit _a mandan story_ one time a party of men went into a lonely place among the hills far away from the village, to enter their eagle pits for the purpose of catching eagles to obtain their plumes. one of the men had made his pit far out at some distance from any of the others. another day, as he was coming away from his eagle pit, returning to the village, he stopped and sat down upon the top of a high hill from which he could enjoy a grand view of the landscape. thus he sat looking about over the quiet hills and valleys, beyond the bright gleam which showed the course of the river winding in and out among the green trees along its borders, far away to the dim sky line. far away on one side he saw a number of elks feeding; on the other side he saw a band of graceful antelopes. a doe and her fawn were browsing upon some bushes down near the river. aloft he saw the white clouds sailing in the bright blue sky; below he saw their shadows moving over the earth, now up a hillside and over its crest and then swiftly across a little valley and up the next hillside. while he sat enjoying the beauty of the scene he observed a war eagle chasing a jack-rabbit. the jack-rabbit continually dodged and circled, trying to escape as the eagle swooped toward him. the eagle had several times swooped and just missed striking the rabbit. gradually the chase came near to the place where the man was seated. the eagle was closely pursuing the rabbit and made a tremendous swoop towards him. but the rabbit escaped by leaping into the man's robe as he sat with it loosely draped about his shoulders and knees. then the eagle said "put that rabbit away from you! he is my prey. i intend to eat him." but now the rabbit appealed to the man and said, "i have thrown myself upon your kindness. do not turn me away. i beg of you. if you save me you shall hereafter have success in your undertakings and you shall become a great man." then the eagle spoke again, saying, "his words are not true. turn him away. he can do nothing for you. i, myself will make you great if you will do as i request. it is i who speak the truth. my feet are not held to the earth and i can also fly in the air far above the earth. i am successful in all the things i attempt." once more the jack-rabbit made his plea. "believe him not, and do not turn me away! even though i must remain upon the ground, and cannot fly like the eagle, still i have knowledge proper to my conditions of life, and i know how to do many things suitably and successfully." the man made his decision in favor of the jack-rabbit and saved him from the eagle. and the jack-rabbit kept his promise to the man, for he gave him of his own powers and made him successful in his undertakings and helped him with good and wise counsel in times of trouble and doubt and perplexity. so the man gained great renown and honor and influence among his people. index page dedication introduction land and people nature and health spirit of life attitude towards native life indians' appreciation and love of their homeland song to the trees and streams thrilling escape of a besieged war party a mandan monument the legend of standing rock the holy hill pahuk the lodge of the black-tail deer which talked with its captor the wonderful basket cause of the breaking up of ice in the missouri river the waterspring of the holy man the sacred symbol of the circle the sacred number four the pristine prairie aboriginal american agriculture description of an earth-lodge hymn to the sun description of a tipi an omaha ghost story an omaha hero song stories of the plant people sacred trees the song of the pasque flower the prairie rose the song of the wild rose use of the ground bean tipsin: an important native food plant how the people obtained the precious gift of corn a group of pawnee hymns to corn the forgotten ear of corn how the usefulness of wild rice was discovered a story of the sunflower dakota folklore of the spiderwort stories of the four-footed people the faithful dog how coyote chief was punished the skunk and the bear the song of the old wolf stories of the people of the air folk sayings about the meadowlark how the meadowlark won the race folklore of the horned lark how it came about that geese migrate the captive bird the chickadee the song of the wren the war eagle and the jack-rabbit maps map to show distribution of tribes map to show aboriginal agriculture map of geographical distribution of pasque flower [decoration] _bismarck tribune print_ transcriber's note omitted periods and mismatched quotation marks have been repaired. all other punctuation usage is as in the original. hyphenation has been made consistent. inconsistent capitalisation, e.g. hintunka and hintunka, is preserved as printed. archaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed. the dedication on page includes the phrase, "... and who held it a form of sacrilege to violate or in any way endanger the overthrow of that delicate balance of nature; ..." the word 'endanger' does not seem appropriate in the context, and may be an error for 'engender.' however, as it is impossible to be sure, it is preserved as printed. the following typographic errors have been repaired: page --considerble amended to considerable--"the careful study of plants and animals was a considerable part ..." page --semed amended to seemed--"then, after a time, she seemed to see not only the moccasins ..." page --leggins amended to leggings--"... but the leggings above them as far as the knees, ..." page --one amended to on--"... he was unable to sit quietly in the village while the fighting was going on." page --an amended to in--"... with great profusion of bloom, in earnest of returning life." page --mesenger amended to messenger--"... and formulated a reply for the messenger to take back ..." page --thrillnig amended to thrilling--"thrilling escape of a besieged war party ..." golden face a tale of the wild west by bertram mitford published by trischler and company, london. this edition dated . golden face, by bertram mitford. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ golden face, by bertram mitford. preface. an impression prevails in this country that for many years past the red men of the american continent have represented a subdued and generally deteriorated race. no idea can be more erroneous. debased, to a certain extent, they may have become, thanks to drink and other "blessings" of civilisation; but that the warrior-spirit, imbuing at any rate the more powerful tribes, is crushed, or that a semi-civilising process has availed to render them other than formidable and dangerous foes, let the stirring annals of western frontier colonisation for the last half-century in general, and the sioux rising of barely a year ago in particular, speak for themselves. this work is a story--not a history. where matters historical have been handled at all the author has striven to touch them as lightly as possible, emphatically recognising that when differences arise between a civilised power and barbarous races dwelling within or beyond its borders, there is invariably much to be said on both sides. chapter one. the winter cabin. "snakes! if that ain't the war-whoop, why then old smokestack bill never had to keep a bright lookout after his hair." both inmates of the log cabin exchanged a meaning glance. other movement made they none, save that each man extended an arm and reached down his winchester rifle, which lay all ready to his hand on the heap of skins against which they were leaning. within, the firelight glowed luridly on the burnished barrels of the weapons, hardly penetrating the gloomy corners of the hut. without, the wild shrieking of the wind and the swish and sough of pine branches furiously tossing to the eddying gusts. "surely not," was the reply, after a moment of attentive listening. "none of the reds would be abroad on such a night as this, let alone a war-party. why they are no fonder of the cold than we, and to-night we are in for something tall in the way of blizzards." "well, it's a sight far down that i heard it," went on the scout, shaking his head. "whatever the night is up here, it may be as mild as milk-punch down on the plain. there's scalping going forward somewhere--mind me." "if so, it's far enough away. i must own to having heard nothing at all." for all answer the scout rose to his feet, placed a rough screen of antelope hide in front of the fire, and, cautiously opening the door, peered forth into the night. a whirl of keen, biting wind, fraught with particles of frozen snow which stung the face like quail-shot, swept round the hut, filling it with smoke from the smouldering pine-logs; then both men stepped outside, closing the door behind them. no, assuredly no man, red or white, would willingly be abroad that night. the icy blast, to which exposure--benighted on the open plain-- meant, to the inexperienced, certain death, was increasing in violence, and even in the sheltered spot where the two men stood it was hardly bearable for many minutes at a time. the night, though tempestuous, was not blackly dark, and now and again as the snow-scud scattered wildly before the wind, the mountain side opposite would stand unveiled; each tall crag towering up, a threatening fantastic shape, its rocky front dark against the driven whiteness of its base. and mingling with the roaring of the great pines and the occasional thunder of masses of snow dislodged from their boughs would be borne to the listeners' ears, in eerie chorus, the weird dismal howling of wolves. it was a scene of indescribable wildness and desolation, that upon which these two looked forth from their winter cabin in the lonely heart of the black hills. but, beyond the gruesome cry of ravening beasts and the shriek of the gale, there came no sound, nothing to tell of the presence or movements of man more savage, more merciless than they. "snakes! but i can't be out of it!" muttered the scout, as once more within their warm and cosy shanty they secured the door behind them. "smokestack bill ain't the boy to be out of it over a matter of an indian yelp. and he can tell a sioux yelp from a cheyenne yelp, and a kiowa yelp from a rapaho yelp, with a store-full of government corn-sacks over his head, and the whole lot from a blasted wolfs yelp, he can. and at any distance, too." "i think you _are_ out of it, bill, all the same;" answered his companion. "if only that, on the face of things, no consideration of scalps or plunder, or even she-captives, would tempt the reds to face this little blow to-night." "well, well! i don't say you're wrong, vipan. you've served your plainscraft to some purpose, you have. but if what i heard wasn't the war-whoop somewhere--i don't care how far--why then i shall begin to believe in what the sioux say about these here mountains." "what do they say?" "why, they say these mountains are chock full of ghosts--spirits of their chiefs and warriors who have been scalped after death, and are kept snoopin' around here because they can't get into the happy hunting-grounds. however, we're all right here, and 'live or dead, the sioux buck 'd have to reckon with a couple of winchester rifles, who tried to make us otherwise." he who had been addressed as vipan laughed good-humouredly, as he tossed an armful of fat pine knots among the glowing logs, whence arose a blaze that lit up the hut as though for some festivity. and its glare affords us an admirable opportunity for a closer inspection of these two. the scout was a specimen of the best type of western man. his rugged, weather-tanned face was far from unhandsome--frankness, self-reliance, staunchness to his friends, intrepidity toward foes, might all be read there. his thick russet beard was becoming shot with grey, but though considerably on the wrong side of fifty, an observer would have credited him with ten years to the good, for his broad, muscular frame was as upright and elastic as if he were twenty-five. his companion, who might have been fifteen years his junior, was about as fine a type of anglo-saxon manhood as could be met with in many a day's journey. of tall, almost herculean, stature, he was without a suspicion of clumsiness; quick, active, straight as a dart. his features, regular as those of a greek-sculpture, were not, however, of a confidence-inspiring nature, for their expression was cold and reticent, and the lower half of his face was hidden in a magnificent golden beard, sweeping to his belt. the dress of both men was the regulation tunic and leggings of dressed deerskin, of indian manufacture, and profusely ornamented with beadwork and fringes; that of vipan being adorned with scalp-locks in addition. these two were bound together by the closest friendship, but there was this difference between them. whereas everyone knew smokestack bill, whether as friend or foe, from monterey to the british line, who he was and all about him, not a soul knew exactly who rupert vipan was, nor did rupert vipan himself, by word or hint, evince the smallest disposition to enlighten them. that he was an englishman was clear, his nationality he could not conceal. not that he ever tried to, but on the other hand, he made no sort of attempt at airing it. this winter cabin was a substantial log affair, run up by the two men with some degree of trouble and with an eye to comfort. built in a hollow on the mountain face, it hung perched as an eyrie over a ravine some thousands of feet in depth, in such wise that its occupants could command every approach, and descry the advent of strangers, friendly or equivocal, long before the latter could reach them. behind rose the jagged, almost precipitous mountain in a serrated ridge, and inaccessible from the other side; so that upon the whole the position was about as safe as any position could be in that insecure region, where every man took his rifle to bed with him, and slept with one eye open even then. the cabin was reared almost against the great trunk of a stately pine, whose spreading boughs contributed in no slight degree to its shelter. not many yards distant stood another log-hut, similar in design and dimensions; this had been the habitation of a french canadian and his two sioux squaws, but now stood deserted by its former owners. vipan flung himself on a soft thick bearskin, took a glowing stick from the fire, and pressed it against the bowl of a long indian pipe. "by jove, bill," he said, blowing out a great cloud. "if this isn't the true philosophy of life it's first cousin to it. a tight, snug shanty, the wind roaring like a legion of devils outside, a blazing fire, abundance of rations and tobacco, any amount of good furs, and--no bother in the world. nothing to worry our soul-cases about until it becomes time to go in and trade our pelts, which, thank heaven, won't be for two or three months." "that's so," was the answer. "but--don't you feel it kinder dull like? a chap like you, who's knocked about the world. seems to me a few months of a log cabin located away in the mountains, can't make it out at all." and the scout broke off with a puzzled shake of the head. "look here, you unbelieving jew," said the other, with a laugh. "even now you can't get rid of the notion that i've left my country for my country's good. take my word for it, you're wrong. there isn't a corner of the habitable globe i couldn't tumble up in every bit as safely as here." "i know that, old pard. not that i'd care the tail of a yaller dog if it was t'other way about. we've hunted, and trapped, and `stood off' the reds, quite years enough to know each other. and now i take it, when we've lit upon a barrelful of this gold stuff, you'll be cantering off to europe again by the first steamboat." "no, i think not. except--" and a curious look came into vipan's face. "well, i don't know. i've an old score to pay off. i want to be even with a certain person or two." "you do? well now don't you undertake anything foolish. you know better than i do that in your country you've got to wait until your throat's already cut before drawing upon a man, and even then like enough you'll be hung if you recover. say, now, couldn't you get the party or parties out here, and have a fair and square stand up? you'd make undertaker's goods of 'em right enough, never fear." "no, no, my friend. that sort of reptile doesn't face you in any such simple fashion. it strikes you through the lawyers--those beneficent products of our christian civilisation," replied the other, with a bitter laugh. "however, time enough to talk about that when we get to our prospecting again." "if we ever do get to it again. custer's expedition in the fall of last year didn't go through here for fun, nor yet to look after the sioux, though that was given as the colour of it. why, they were prospectin' all the time, and not for nothin' neither. no, `uncle sam' wants to have all the plums himself, and, likely enough, the hills'll be full of cavalrymen soon as the snow melts. then i reckon we shall have to git." "well, the reds'll be hoist with their own petard. it's the old fable again. they call in `uncle sam' to clear out the miners, and `uncle sam' hustles them out as well. but we may not have to clear, after all, for it's my belief that the moment the grass begins to sprout the whole sioux nation will go upon the war-path." "then we'd have to git all the slicker." "not necessarily," replied vipan, coolly. "i've a notion we could stop here more snugly than ever." "not unless we helped 'em," said the scout, decidedly. "and that's not to be done." "i don't know that. speaking for myself, i get on very well with the reds. they've got their faults, but then so have other people. wait, i know what you're going to say--they're cruel and treacherous devils, and so forth. well, cruelty is in their nature, and, by the way, is not unknown in civilisation. as for treachery, it strikes me, old chum, that we've got to keep about as brisk a look-out for a shot in the back in any of our western townships as we have for our scalps in an indian village." the scout nodded assent; puffing away vigorously at his pipe as he stared into the glowing embers. "for instance," went on the other, "when that chap `grazed' me in the street at denver while i wasn't looking, and would have put his next ball clean through me if you hadn't dropped him in his tracks so neatly--that was a nice example for a white man and a christian to set, say, to our friends mountain cat, or three bears, or hole-in-a-tree, down yonder, wasn't it? but to come to the point--which is this: supposing some fellow had rushed us while we were prospecting that place down on the big cheyenne in the summer and invited us to clear, i guess we should briskly have let him see a brace of muzzles. eh?" "guess we should." "well, then, it amounts to the same thing here. we are bound to strike a good vein or two in the summer--in fact, we have as good as struck it. all right. after all the risk and trouble we've stood to find it, uncle sam lopes in and serves us with a notice to quit. it isn't in reason that we should stand that." "well, you see, vipan, we've no sort of title here. this is an indian reservation, and uncle sam's bound by treaty to keep white men out. there are others here besides us, and i reckon in the summer the hills'll be a bit crowded up with them. so we shall just have to chance it with the rest, and if we're moved, light out somewhere else." "well, i don't know that _i_ shall. it's no part of good sense to chuck away the wealth lying at our very feet." and the speaker's splendid face wore a strangely reckless and excited look. "the scheme is for the government to chouse the indians out of this section of country by hook or by crook--then mining concessions will be granted to the wire-pullers and their friends. and we shall see a series of miscellaneous frauds blossoming into millionaires on the strength of _our_ discoveries." "and are you so keen on this gold, vipan? ah i reckon you're hankering after europe again, but i judge you'll be no happier when you get there." the scout's tone was quiet, regretful, almost upbraiding. the other's philosophy was to end in this, then? "it isn't exactly that," was the answer, moodily, and after a pause. "but i don't see the force of being `done.' i never did see it; perhaps that's why i'm out here now. however, the sioux won't stand any more `treaties.' they'll fight for certain. red cloud isn't the man to forget the ignominious thrashing he gave uncle sam in ' and ' , and, by god, if it comes to ousting us i'll be shot if i won't cut in on his side." "i reckon that blunder won't be repeated. if the cavalrymen had been properly armed; armed as they are now, with spencer's and henry's instead of with the sickest old muzzle-loading fire-sticks and a round and a half of ammunition per man, red cloud would have been soundly whipped at fort phil kearney 'stead of t'other way about." "possibly. as things are, however, he carried his point. and there's sitting bull, for instance; he's been holding the powder river country these years. why don't they interfere with him? no, you may depend upon it, a war with the whole sioux nation backed by the indian department, won't suit the govermental book. `uncle sam' will cave in-- all the other prospectors will be cleared out of the hills, except-- except ourselves." "why except ourselves?" said the scout, quietly, though he was not a little astonished and dismayed at his friend and comrade's hardly-suppressed excitement. "we stand well with the chiefs. look here, old man: i'd wager my scalp against a pipe of richmond plug--if i wasn't as bald as a billiard ball, that is--that i make myself so necessary to them that they'll be only too glad to let us `mine' as long as we choose to stay here. just think--the stuff is all there and only waiting to be picked up--just think if we were to go in on the quiet, loaded up with solid nuggets and dust instead of a few wretched pelts. why, man, we are made for life. the reds could put us in the way of becoming millionaires, merely in exchange for our advice--not necessarily our rifles, mind." and the speaker's eyes flashed excitedly over the idea. chapter two. a nocturnal visitor. no idea is more repellent to the mind of a genuine western man than that of siding with indians against his own colour. contested almost step by step, the opening up of the vast continent supplies one long record of hideous atrocities committed by the savage, regardless of age, sex, or good faith; and stern, and not invariably discriminate, reprisals on the part of the dwellers on the frontier. it follows, therefore, that the race-hatred existing between the white man and his treacherous and crafty red neighbour will hardly bear exaggeration. thus it is not surprising that smokestack bill should receive his reckless companion's daredevil scheme with concern and dismay. indeed, had any other man mooted such an idea, the honest scout's concern would have found vent in words of indignant horror. there was silence in the hut for a few minutes. both men, lounging back on their comfortable furs, were busy with their respective reflections. now and again a fiercer gust than usual would shake the whole structure, and as the doleful howling of the wolves sounded very near the door, the horses in the other compartment--which was used as a stable--would snort uneasily and paw the ground. "you don't know indians even yet, vipan," said smokestack bill at length, speaking gravely, "else you'd never undertake to help them, even by advice, in butchering and outraging helpless women, let alone the men, though they can better look after themselves. no, you don't know the red devils, take my word for it." "i had a notion i did," was the hard reply. "as for that `helpless woman' ticket, i won't vote on it, bill, old man. there's no such thing as a `helpless' woman; at least, i never met with such an article, and i used to be reckoned a tolerably good judge of that breed of cattle, too--" his words were cut short. the dog uttered a savage growl, then sprang towards the door, barking. each man coolly reached for his rifle, but that was all. "i knew i wasn't out of it," muttered the scout, more to himself than to his hearer. "smokestack bill knew the war-whoop when he heard it. he ain't no `tenderfoot,' he ain't." swish--whirr! the fierce blast shrieked around the lonely cabin. its inmates having partially quieted the dog, were listening intently. nothing could they hear beyond the booming of the tempest, which, unheeded in their conversation, had burst upon them with redoubled force. "only a grizzly that he hears," said vipan, in a low tone. "no red would be out to-night." scarcely had he spoken than the loud, long-drawn howl of a wolf sounded forth, so near as to seem at their very door. then the hoof-strokes of an unshod horse, and a light tap against the strong framework. "it's all straight. i thought i knew the yelp," said the scout. then he unhesitatingly slid back the strong iron bolts which secured the door, and admitted a single indian. the new comer was a tall, martial-looking young warrior, who, as he slid down the snow-besprinkled and gaudy-coloured blanket which had enshrouded his head, stood before them in the ordinary indian dress. the collar of his tunic was of bears' claws, and among the scalp-locks which fringed his leggings were several of silky fair hair. but for three thin lines of crimson crossing his face, and a vertical one from forehead to throat, he wore no paint, and from his scalp-lock dangled three long eagle-feathers stained black, their ends being gathered into tufts dyed a bright vermilion. for arms he carried a short bow, highly ornamented, and a quiver of wolfskin, the latter adorned with the grinning jaws of its original owner, and in his belt a revolver and bowie knife. this warlike personage advanced to smokestack bill, and shook him by the hand effusively. then, turning to vipan, he broke into a broad grin and ejaculated-- "hello, george!" he thus unceremoniously addressed made no reply, but a cold, contemptuous look came into his eyes. then he quietly said:-- "do the ogallalla dance the sun-dance [note ] in winter?" "ha!" said the indian, emphatically, grasping at once the other's meaning. "when i was lost in the ogallalla villages, all the _warriors_ knew me," went on vipan, scathingly. "there may have been _boys_ who have become warriors since." "ha!" the indian was not a little astonished. this white man spoke the dahcotah language fluently. he was also not a little angry, and his eyes flashed. "you are not of the race of those around us," he said, "not of the race of the beaver," turning to the scout. "your great chief is george." "don't get mad, vipan," said smokestack bill, hastening to explain. "he only means that you're an englishman. it'll take generations to get out of these fellers' heads that englishmen are still ruled by king george." vipan laughed drily. he had given this cheeky young buck an appropriate setting down. whether or no it was taken in good part was a matter of indifference to him. meanwhile, the scout, having put on a fresh brew of steaming coffee, threw down a fur in front of the fire, and the warrior, taking the pipe which had been prepared for him, sat in silence, puffing out the fragrant smoke in great volumes. this done, he drew his knife, and proceeded to fall to on some deer ribs provided by his entertainers. the latter, meanwhile, smoked tranquilly on, putting no question, and evincing no curiosity as to the object of his visit. at length, his appetite appeased, the warrior wiped his knife on the sole of his mocassin, returned it to its sheath, and throwing himself back luxuriously, ejaculated-- "good!" to the two white men, the visit of one or more of their red brethren was a frequent occurrence; an incident of no moment whatever. they were accustomed to visits from indians, but somehow both felt that the arrival of this young warrior had a purpose underlying it. the pipe having been ceremonially lighted and passed round the circle, the guest was the first to break the silence. "it is long since war wolf has looked upon the face of the beaver" (smokestack bill's indian name), "or listened to the wise words which fall from his lips. as soon as war wolf heard that the beaver had built his winter lodge here, he leaped on his pony and wasted not a moment to come and smoke with his white brothers." vipan, listening, could have spluttered with sardonic laughter. though he had never seen him before, he knew the speaker by name--knew him to be, moreover, one of the most unscrupulous and reckless young desperadoes of the tribe, whose hatred of the whites was only equalled by their detestation of him. but he moved not a muscle. "it is long, indeed," answered the scout. "war wolf must have journeyed far not to know, or not to have heard of golden face," and he turned slightly to his friend as if effecting an introduction. by this _sobriquet_ the latter was known among the different clans of the dahcotah or sioux, obviously bestowed upon him by reason of his magnificent golden beard. "the name of golden face is not strange, for it is not seldom on the lips of the chiefs of our nation," continued the savage with a graceful inclination towards vipan. "the hearts of the mehneaska [americans] are not good towards us, but our hearts are always good towards golden face and his friend the beaver. to visit them, war wolf has journeyed far." "do the ogallalla [a sub-division or clan of the sioux nation] send out war-parties in winter time?" asked the scout, innocently. but the question, harmless and apparently devoid of point as it was, conveyed to his hearer its full meaning. the eyes of the savage flashed, and his whole countenance seemed to light up with pride. "why should i tell lies?" he said. "yes, i have been upon the war-path, but not here. yonder," with a superb sweep of his hand in a westerly direction. "yonder, far away, i have struck the enemies of my race, who come stealing up with false words and many rifles, to possess the land-- our land--the land of the dahcotah. why should i tell lies? am i not a warrior? but my tongue is straight; and my heart is good towards golden face and his friend the beaver." vipan, an attentive observer of every word, every detail, noted two things: one, the boldness of this young warrior in thus avowing, contrary to the caution of his race, that he had actually just returned from one of those merciless forays which the frontier people at that period had every reason to fear and dread; the other, that having twice, so to say, bracketted their names, the indian had in each instance mentioned his own first. in his then frame of mind the circumstance struck him as significant. after a good deal more of this kind of talk, safeguarded by the adroit fencing and beating around the bush with which the savage of whatever race approaches a communication of consequence, it transpired that war wolf was the bearer of a message from the chiefs of his nation. there had been war between them and the whites; now, however, they wished for peace. red cloud and some others were desirous of proceeding to washington in order to effect some friendly arrangement with the great father. there were many white men in their country, but their ways were not straight. the chiefs distrusted them. but golden face and the beaver were their brothers. had they not lived in amity in their midst all the winter? their hearts were good towards them, and they would fain smoke the pipe once more with their white brothers before leaving home. to that end, therefore, they invited golden face and the beaver to visit them at their village without delay, in fact, to return in company with war wolf, the bearer of the message. to this bill replied, after some moments of solemn silence only broken by the puff-puff of the pipes, that he and his friend desired nothing better. it would give them infinite pleasure to pay a visit to their red brethren, and to the great chiefs of the dahcotah nation especially. but it was mid-winter. the weather was uncertain. before undertaking a journey which would entail so long an absence from home, he and his friend must sleep upon the proposal and consult together. in the morning war wolf should have his answer. either they would return with him in person, or provide him with a suitable message to carry back to the chiefs. in social matters, still less in diplomatic, indians are never in a hurry. had the two white men agreed there and then upon what their course should be, they would have suffered in war wolfs estimation. the answer was precisely what he had expected. "it is well," he said. "the wisdom of the beaver will not be overclouded in the morning, nor will the desire of golden face to meet his friends be in any way lessened." while this talk was progressing, vipan's eye had lighted upon an object which set him thinking. it was a small object--a very small object, so minute indeed that nine persons out of ten would never have noticed it at all. but it was an object of ominous moment, for it was nothing less than a spot of fresh blood; and it had fallen on the warrior's leggings, just below the fringe of his tunic. putting two and two together, it could mean nothing more nor less than a concealed scalp. "bill was right," he thought. "bill was right, and i was an ass. he did hear the war-whoop right enough. i wonder what unlucky devil lost in the storm this buck could have overhauled and struck down?" the discovery rendered him wary, not that a childlike ingenuousness was ever among vipan's faults. but he resolved to keep his weather eye open, and if he must sleep, to do so with that reliable orbit ever brought to bear upon their pleasant-speaking guest. soon profound silence reigned within the log cabin, broken only by the subdued, regular breathing of the sleepers, or the occasional stir of the glowing embers. the tempest had lulled, but, as hour followed hour, the voices of the weird waste were borne upon the night in varied and startling cadence; the howling of wolves, the cat-like scream of the panther among the overhanging crags, the responsive hooting of owls beneath the thick blackness of the great pine forests, and once, the fierce snorting growl of a grizzly, so near that the formidable monster seemed even to be snuffing under the very door. the two owners of the cabin are fast asleep; vipan with his blanket rolled round his head. the scout, however, is lying on his back, and his blanket has partially slipped off, as though he had found its weight too burdensome. the three are lying with their feet to the fire in fan-shaped formation from it: the scout in the centre, their guest on the outside. the latter, too, is fast asleep. is? surely not. unless a man can be said to sleep with both eyes open. a half-charred log fell into the embers, raising a small spluttering flame. this flame glowed on the fierce orbs of the red warrior. for a fraction of a second it glowed on something else, before he hid his hand within his blanket. but the still, steady breathing of the savage was that of a sleeping man. "tu-whoo-whoo-whoo!" nothing is more dismal than the hoot of an owl in the dead silent night. that owl is very near; almost upon the tree overhead. his voice must have had a disturbing effect upon the dreams of the red man, for in some unaccountable fashion the distance between the latter and the sleeping scout has diminished by about half. yet the white man has not moved. "tu-whoo-whoo-whoo!" that time it is nearer still. noiseless, and with a serpentine glide, the head of the savage warrior is reared from the ground, in the semi-gloom resembling the hideous head of some striped and crested snake, and in the dilated eyeball there is a fierce scintillation. the attitude is one of intense, concentrated listening. honest bill slumbers peacefully on. that hideous head raised over him, scarce half a dozen yards distant, is suggestive of nightmare personified. yet its owner is his guest, who has eaten at his fireside, and now rests beneath his roof. why should his slumbers be disturbed? "tu-whoo-whoo-whoo!" again that doleful cry. but--look now! what deed of dark treachery is this stealthy savage about to perpetrate? he is a yard nearer his sleeping host, and his right hand grips a long keen knife. ah! will nothing warn the sleeper? the murderous barbarian rises to his knees, and his blanket noiselessly slips off. and at that moment through the intervening space of gloom comes a low distinct whisper: "are the dreams of war wolf bad, that he moves so far in his sleep?" vipan has not moved. his blanket is still rolled round his head, but the fierce indian, darting his keen glance in the direction of the voice, espies an object protruding from the speaker's blanket that was not there when last he looked. it is about three inches of a revolver barrel, and it is covering him. no fresh scalp or scalps for him to-night. let it not be supposed for a moment that the treacherous villain was in any way abashed. it was not in him. he merely replied, pleasantly: "no--i cannot sleep. i am hungry again, for i have ridden far, and it is now near morning. i would have found the `chuck' [food] without disturbing golden face and the beaver, who are very weary, and sleep well." and, knife in hand, he deliberately stepped over to the corner where hung the carcase from which they had feasted the evening before, and cutting off a portion, placed it upon the coals to broil. vipan could not but admire the cool readiness of both reply and action. he knew that but for his own wariness, either his friend or himself-- possibly both--would by now be entering the happy hunting-grounds, yet from his bloodthirsty and treacherous guest he apprehended no further aggression--that night at any rate. the surprise had failed abjectly; the enemy was on the alert; it was not in indian nature to make a second attempt under all the circumstances. moreover, he recognised in the incident a mere passing impulse of ferocity, moving the savage at the sight of these two victims ready,--as he imagined--for the knife, combined with the overmastering temptation to the young warrior to bear back to his village the scalps of two white men--men of considerable renown, too--taken by himself, alone and singlehanded. so he calmly laid down again as if nothing had happened. the scout, who had awakened at the first sound of voices, and who took in at a glance the whole situation, fully equalled his friend's coolness. "snakes!" he remarked, "i had a pesky bad dream. dreamt i was just goin' to draw on some feller, when i awoke." "the beaver has slain many enemies," rejoined war wolf, nodding his head approvingly. "when a man has taken scalps, he is prompt to take more, even in his dreams." "and to lose his own, you pison young skunk!" thought smokestack bill, in reply to this. "i'll be even with you one day, see if i don't." but the "pison young skunk," unenlightened as to this event of the future, merely nodded pleasantly as he sat by the fire, knife in hand, assimilating his juicy venison steak with the utmost complacency. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . part of the initiatory festival during which, by virtue of undergoing various forms of ghastly self-torture, the growing-up boys are admitted among the ranks of the warriors. chapter three. a tragedy of the wild west. it may seem strange that on the face of so forcible a demonstration of the treacherous disposition of their guest, yet a couple of hours after sunrise should see our friends starting in his company for the sioux villages. but the incident of the night, which might have had so tragic a termination, impressed these men not one whit. it was "all in the day's journey," they said, while admitting that they had been a trifle too confiding. that, however, was a fault easily remedied. but to men who habitually carry their lives in their hands, one peril more or less matters nothing. as they threaded the mountain defiles nothing could be more good humoured and genial than the young warrior's manner. he chatted and laughed, sang snatches of songs in a high nasal key, bantered vipan on the poor condition of his nag, and challenged him to a race as soon as they were domiciled in the village. he wanted to know why golden face had not followed the example of other white men in the matter of squaws. red cloud's village could furnish some famous beauties. golden face was rich--he could take his choice. there would be great festivities in his honour, and the prettiest girls would be only too glad to be chosen by a man of his prowess. thus the genial war wolf--who amid shouts of laughter extended, or, to be more accurate, "broadened" this vein of fun. now all this was very jolly, very entertaining; but on one point our two friends were of the same mind. under no circumstances whatever should the sportive young barbarian be suffered to ride behind. when he stopped, they stopped; and one or two crafty attempts which he made to fall back, they, with equal deftness, resolutely defeated. it was a lovely morning, crisp and clear. a thin layer of snow lay around, diminishing as the altitude decreased. the frosted pines sparkling in the sun, the great crags towering up to the liquid blue; here the ragged edges of a cliff shooting into the heavens, there a long narrow canon, whose appalling depth might well make the wayfarer's head swim as his horse slipped and stumbled along the rugged track which skirted its dizzy brink--all this afforded a scene of varied grandeur, which, with the strong spice of danger thrown in, was calculated to set the blood of the adventurously disposed in a tingle. they struck into a tortuous defile, whose lofty sandstone walls almost shut out the light of day. high above, soaring in circles, a couple of eagles followed the trio, uttering a harsh yell, but otherwise the voices of nature were still. vipan found an opportunity of chaffing the indian, whom he challenged to bring down one or both of the birds with his bow--a proposal which was met by the suggestion that he could do so with a rifle--would golden face let him try with his? then a wide valley, into which boulders and rocks seemed to have been hurled in lavish confusion. oak and box elder, dark funereal pines and naked spruce, lay dotted in clumps about a level meadow, through which rushed a half-frozen stream. suddenly a white shape darted through the leafless brake. flash--bang! a snap shot though. "get to heel, shanks! darn yer hide, you've become so tarnation fat and skeery you ain't worth a little cuss, you ain't," cried the scout, dropping the smoking muzzle of his piece. the dog thus apostrophised was a mangy and utterly useless indian cur, which the scout had picked up in the woods, and which vipan was continually urging upon him to shoot. "sho! you gavorting jack-rabbit! a white wolf 'll make a mouthful of you. and he ain't touched," went on shanks's master, disgustedly, as the dog slunk to heel. better not to fire at all than to miss in the presence of an indian. then something seemed to strike him. a raven rose from the ground, uttering a plethoric croak, then another, and the pair flopped heavily up to a limb overhead. a plunge or two through the leafless thicket and they were in a small open space. the wolf--the ravens--each had been disturbed in a hideous repast. there, in the midst of their ravaged camp, the remnants of its fire strewn around them, lay the corpses of two white men, half-charred, frightfully mangled, and--scalped. looking upon this doleful spectacle the scout was able to locate the war-whoop he had heard the night before. vipan, for his own part, cherished a shrewd conviction that he could restore the missing scalps-- though too late--merely by the simple process of stretching forth an arm. but the matter was no concern of his. on the other hand, to seize and hold on to the chance of monopolising the search after the precious metal here, pre-eminently was. the unfortunate men were evidently miners. the implements of their calling lay around, together with their modest baggage; but their weapons had disappeared. both had been shot to death with arrows, and that at very close quarters, probably while they were asleep. they were rough looking fellows, one red-haired and red-bearded, the other hatchet-faced, but both with skins tanned to parchment colour. "reckon we'll give the poor boys a hoist under the sod," said the scout, shortly. then as for a moment his steady gaze met that of war wolf, the latter said: "wagh! bad indians are about. the white men were too reckless. when they come to find wealth in the country of the dahcotah they should sleep warily. the beaver is going to bury his friends. good. when the shadow is there" (about half an hour) "war wolf will return." if there was the faintest satirical gleam in the warrior's eyes as he uttered these words, there would be nothing gained by noticing it. smokestack bill, seizing one of the murdered men's picks, began to dig, lustily and in silence, every now and again shaking his head ominously. vipan, who thought this voluntary sextonship a bore, lent a hand to oblige his friend. these two unknown miners were no more his kin than the savage sioux who had slain them. he had no kin. all the world was an enemy, to be turned to advantage when possible, and defeated at any rate when not. had he been alone he would merely have looked, and passed on his way. by half an hour a hole of adequate dimensions received the two mangled and mutilated corpses. then, having trodden down the last spadeful of earth, the scout, with a knife, marked a couple of rude crosses upon the trunk of the nearest tree. his companion, consistently callous, said nothing. as they turned to leave this lonely grave in the wilderness, they were rejoined by the young warrior. he had not been idle. a brace of ruff-grouse, shot by arrows, dangled from his saddle, and the three moved forward in silence, seeking a suitable midday camp. chapter four. the "squarson" of lant-hanger. the rev. dudley vallance was "squarson" of lant with lant-hanger, in the county of brackenshire, england. know, o reader, unversed in the compound mysteries of mr lewis carroll, that the above is a contraction of the words squire-parson. on the face of this assertion it is perhaps superfluous to state that the rev. dudley was a manifest failure in both capacities--superfluous because if this is not invariably the rule under similar circumstances, the exceptions are so rare as to be well-nigh phenomenal. as squire he was a failure, for he had a pettifogging mind. he was not averse to an occasional bit of sharp practice in his dealings, which would have been creditable to an attorney after the order of quirk, gammon, and snap. moreover, he was lacking in geniality, and for field sports he cared not a rush. as parson he was a failure; for so intent was he upon the things of this world that he had neither time nor inclination to inspire his parishioners with any particular hankering after the things of the next. now this need not seem strange, or even severe, since the fiat has gone forth from the lips of the highest of authorities--"ye cannot serve god and mammon." in aspect the rev. dudley was tall and lank. he had a very long nose and a very long beard. furthermore, he had rather shifty eyes and a normally absent manner. when not absent-minded, the latter was suave and purring. his age was about fifty. in the matter of progeny he was blessed with a fair quiverful--eight to wit--of whom seven were daughters. his spouse was nothing if not fully alive to a sense of her position. this she imagined to consist mainly in a passion for precedence, gossip, cliquerie, and deft mischief-making at secondhand. if she fell short in one thing it was in that aggressive and domineering fussiness habitually inseparable from the type, but this was only because she lacked the requisite energy. howbeit, she never forgot that she was "squarsina" of lant with lant-hanger--if we may be allowed to coin a word. this was not wholly unnecessary, for others were wont to lose sight of the fact. lant hall--commonly abbreviated to lant--the abode of the vallances, was rather an ugly house; squat, staringly modern, and hideously embattled in sham castellated style. but it was charmingly situated--dropped, as it were, upon the side of a hill, whose vivid green slope, falling to a large sheet of ornamental water, was alive with the branching antlers of many deer. overshadowing the house lay a steep wooded acclivity--or hanger--at one end of which lay the village, whence the name of the latter. "a sweetly pretty, peaceful spot," gushed the visitor, or the tourist driving through it; "a nook to end one's days in!" scenically, the prospect was enchanting. on the one hand, line upon line of wooded hills fed the eye as far as that organ cared to roam, on the other, softly undulating pastures, with snug farmhouses and peeping cottages here and there. skirting the village on one side, the limpid waters of the lant sparkled and swirled beneath the old grey bridge-- which bore the vallance arms--and then plunged on, to lose themselves in a mile of dark fir wood, where the big trout lay and fattened. a lovely champaign, in sooth; small wonder that the aesthetic stranger should be smitten with a desire to end his days in so sweet a spot. but this sweet spot had its disadvantages. it was frightfully out of the way, being five miles from the nearest railway station, and that on a branch line. the necessaries of life were only to be obtained with difficulty, and farm and dairy produce was expensive, and in supply, precarious. there was one butcher, and no baker, and a post-office chiefly noteworthy for the blundering wherewith her majesty's mails were received and dispensed. moreover, the brackenshire folk were not of a particularly pleasant rustic type. they were very "independent," which is to say they did what seemed right in their own eyes, irrespective of such little matters as honesty or square dealing. they were, as a rule, incapable of speaking the truth, except accidentally, and they had very long tongues. suffice it briefly to say, they excelled in the low and sordid cunning which usually characterises the simple-hearted rustic of whatever county. the rev. dudley vallance had a shibboleth which he never wearied of pronouncing. this was it:--county society. now, at lant-hanger this article, within anything like the accepted meaning of the term, did not exist. it was a crying want, and like all such so capable, it must be supplied. our "squarson" set to work to supply it by a simple device. he went into bricks and mortar. his jerry-built "bijou residences," and tinkered-up rustic cottages soon let, and let comfortably--for him. not so for the tenants, however, for the honest brackenshire craftsmen "did" their employer most thoroughly, and the luckless householders found themselves let in for all sorts of horrors they had never bargained for. thus the rev. dudley "did" as he was "done." but he got his "county society." this, at the period with which we have to deal, in the year of grace , consisted of a sprinkling of maiden ladies and clergymen's relicts, who leased the delectable dwellings aforesaid; a retired jerry-builder, who knew better than to do anything of the kind; the village doctor; a few neighbouring vicars of infinitesimal intellect; a couple of squireens evolved from three generations of farmers, and, lastly, mr santorex of elmcote; all of whom, with the notable exception of the last-named, constituted an array of satellites revolving round the centre planet, the rev. dudley himself. the lant property, though comparatively small, was a snug possession. aesthetically a fair domain, it was all of it good land, and the five to six thousand acres composing it all let well. wholly unencumbered by mortgages or annuity charges, it was estimated to bring in about , pounds a year, so that in reckoning the present incumbent a fortunate man, the neighbourhood was not far wrong. there were, however, half-forgotten hints, which the said neighbourhood would now and again let drop--hints not exactly to the credit of the present squire. for it was well known that the rev. dudley had inherited lant from his uncle, not his father, and that this uncle's son was still living. chapter five. the santorexes of elmcote. "now, chickie, hurry up with the oats, and we'll go and try for a brace of trout before the sun blazes out." "mercy on us, do let the child finish her breakfast! it's bad enough being obliged to have it twice laid, without being hurried to death, one would think." but the "child" stands in no need of the maternal--and querulous-- championship. "i'm ready, father," she cries, pushing her chair back. "right. get on a hat then," is the reply, in a prompt and decisive, but not ungenial tone, and the head which had been thrust through the partially opened door disappears. "that's your father all over," continued the maternal and querulous voice. "how does he know i don't want you at home this morning? but no, that doesn't matter a pin. i may be left to toil and slave, cooped up in the house, while everybody else is frisking about the fields all day long, fishing and what not--" "but, mother, you don't really want me, do you?" "--and then your father must needs come down so early, and, of course, wants his breakfast at once, and then it has to be brought on twice; and he must flurry and fidget everyone else into the bargain. want you? no, child, i don't want you. go away and catch some fish. if i did want you, that wouldn't count while your father did--oh, no." yseulte santorex made no reply. she did the best thing possible-- however, she kissed and coaxed the discontented matron, and took a prompt opportunity of escaping. one might search far and wide before meeting with a more beautiful girl. rather above the medium height, and of finely formed frame, it needed not the smallness of her perfectly shaped hands and the artistic regularity of her features to stamp her as thoroughbred. it was sufficient to note the upright poise of her head, and the straight glance of her grand blue eyes, but surer hall-mark still, she was blessed with a beautifully modulated voice. when we add that she possessed a generous allowance of dark brown hair, rippling into gold, we claim to have justified our opening statement concerning her. her age at this time was twenty; as for her disposition, well, reader, you must find that out for yourself in the due development of this narrative. losing no more time than was necessary to fling on a wide straw hat, the girl joined her father in the hall, where he was waiting a little impatiently--rod, basket, landing-net, all ready. "you shall land the first fish, chickie," he said, as they started. "it isn't worth while taking a rod apiece, we shall have too little time," with a glance upward at the clouded sky which seemed disposed to clear every moment. "i oughtn't to tax your self-denial so severely, dear," answered the girl, "when i know you're dying to get at the river yourself." "self-denial, eh? thing the preachers strongly recommend, and--always practise. beginning here," with a slight indicating nod. yseulte laughed. she knew her father's opinion of his spiritual pastor--in point of fact, shared it. "i knew a man once who used to say that self-abnegation was a thing not far removed from the philosopher's stone. its indulgence inspired him with absolute indifference to life and the ills thereof, and at the same time with a magnificent contempt for the poor creatures for whose benefit he practised it." "very good philosophy, father. but the compensation for foregoing the delights of having one's own way is not great." "my dear girl, that depends. the key to the above exposition lies in the fact that that individual never had a chance of getting his own way. so he made a virtue of necessity--an art which, though much talked about, is seldom cultivated." "your friend was a humbug, father," was the laughing reply. "a doleful humbug, and no philosopher at all." "eh? the effrontery of the rising generation--commonly called in the vulgar tongue--nerve! a humbug! so that's your opinion, is it, young woman?" "yes, it is," she answered decisively, her blue eyes dancing. "phew-w! nothing like having your own opinion, and sticking to it," was all he said, with a dry chuckle. then he subsided into silence, whistling meditatively, as if pondering over the whimsicality he had just propounded, or contemplating a fresh one. these same whimsicalities, by the way, were continually cropping up in mr santorex' conversation, to the no small confusion of his acquaintance, who never could quite make out whether he was in jest or earnest, to the delight of his satirical soul. to the infinitesimal intellects of his neighbours--the surrounding vicars, for instance--he was a conversational nightmare. they voted him dangerous, even as their kind so votes everything which happens to be incomprehensible to its own subtle ken. what sort of training could it be for a young girl just growing to womanhood to have such a man for a father--to take in his pernicious views and ideas as part of her education, as it were? and herein the surrounding vicaresses were at one with their lords. stop! their what? we mean their--chattels. but yseulte herself laughed their horror to scorn. her keen perceptions detected it in a moment, and she would occasionally visit its expression with a strong spice of hereditary satire. she could not remember the time when her father had treated her otherwise than as a rational and accountable being, and the time when he should cease to do so would never come--of that she was persuaded. nor need it be inferred that she was "strong-minded," "advanced," or aspiring in any way to the "blue." far from it. she had plenty of character, but withal she was a very sweet, lovable, even-tempered, and thoroughly sensible girl. there were two other children besides herself--had been, rather, for one had lain in lant churchyard this last ten years. the other, and eldest, was cattle-ranching in the far west, and doing fairly well. mr santorex was unquestionably a fine-looking man. a broad, lofty brow, straight features, and firm, clear eyes, imparted to his face a very decided expression, which his method of speech confirmed. he was of spanish origin, a fact of which he was secretly proud; for although anglicised, even to his name, for several generations, yet in direct lineage he could trace back to one of the very oldest and noblest families of spain. though now in easy circumstances, not to say wealthy, he had not always been so. during the score of years he had lived at lant-hanger, about half of that period had been spent in dire poverty--a period fraught with experiences which had left a more than bitter taste in his mouth as regarded his neighbours and surroundings generally, and the rev. dudley vallance in particular. then the tide had turned--had turned just in the nick of time. a small property which he held in the north of spain, and which had hitherto furnished him with the scantiest means of subsistence, suddenly became enormously valuable as a field of mineral wealth. with his changed circumstances mr santorex did not shake off the dust of lant-hanger from his shoes. he had become in a way accustomed to the place, and was fond of the country, if not of the people. so he promptly leased elmcote, a snug country box picturesquely perched on the hillside overlooking the valley of the lant, and having moved in, sat down grimly to enjoy the impending joke. he had not long to wait. lant-hanger opened wide its arms, and fairly trod on its own heels in its eagerness to make much of the new "millionaire," whom, in his indigent days, it had so consistently cold-shouldered as a disagreeable and highly undesirable sort of neighbour. next to lant hall itself, elmcote was the most important house in the parish, and its tenant had always been the most important personage. so "county society," following the example of its head and cornerstone, the rev. dudley vallance, metaphorically chucked up its hat and hoorayed over its acquisition. down by the river-side this warm spring morning, yseulte, never so happy as when engaged in this, her favourite sport, was wielding her fly-rod with skill and efficiency, as many a gleaming and speckled trophy lying in her creel served to show. the movement became her well. every curve of her symmetrical form was brought out by the graceful exercise. her father, standing well back from the bank, watched her with critical approval. true to his character as a man of ideas, he almost forgot the object of the present undertaking in his admiration for his beautiful daughter, and his thoughts, thus started, went off at express speed. what a lovely girl she was growing--had grown, indeed. what was to be her destiny in life? she must make a good match of course, not throw herself away upon any clodhopper in this wretched hole. that young lout, geoffrey vallance, was always mooning in calf-like fashion about her. not good enough. oh, no; nothing like. seven thousand a year unencumbered was hardly to be sneezed at; still, she must not throw herself away on any such unlicked cub. he fancied he could do better for her in putting her through a london season--much better. and then came an uneasy and desolating stirring of even his philosophical pulses at the thought of parting with her. he was an undemonstrative man--undemonstrative even to coldness. he made at no time any great show of affection. he had long since learned that affection, like cash, was an article far too easily thrown away. but there was one living thing for which, deep down in his heart of hearts, he cherished a vivid and warm love, and that was this beautiful and companionable daughter of his. "never mind about me, dear. i think i won't throw a fly this morning," he said, as the girl began insisting that he should take a turn, there being only one rod between them. "besides, it's about time to knock off altogether. the sun is coming out far too brightly for many more rises." "father," said the girl, as she took her fishing-rod to pieces, "i can't let you shirk that question any longer. am i to pay that visit to george's ranche this summer or not?" "why, you adventurous chickie, you will be scalped by indians, tossed by mad buffaloes, bolted with by wild horses. heaven knows what. hallo! enter geoffry plantagenet. he seems in a hurry." "no! where? oh, what a nuisance!" following her father's glance, yseulte descried a male figure crossing the stile which led into the field where they were sitting, and recognised young vallance, who between themselves was known by the above nickname. he seemed, indeed, in a desperate hurry, judging from the alacrity wherewith he skipped over the said stile and hastened to put a goodly space of ground between it and himself before looking back. a low, rumbling noise, something between a growl and a moan, reached their ears, and thrust against the barrier was discernible from where they sat the author of it--a red, massive bovine head to wit. struggling to repress a shout of laughter, they continued to observe the new arrival, who had not yet discovered them, and who kept turning back to make sure his enemy was not following, in a state of trepidation that was intensely diverting to the onlookers. "hallo, geoffry!" shouted mr santorex. "had old muggins' bull after you?" he addressed started as if a shot had been fired in his ear. it was bad enough to have been considerably frightened, but to awake to the fact that yseulte santorex had witnessed him in the said demoralised state was discouraging, to say the least of it. "that's worse than the last infliction of muggins you underwent, isn't it, mr vallance?" said the latter mischievously, referring to the idiotic game of cards of that name. "did he chevy you far, geoffry?" went on mr santorex, in the same bantering tone. "er--ah--no; not very," said the victim, who was somewhat perturbed and out of breath. "he's an abominably vicious brute, and ought to be shot. he'll certainly kill somebody one of these days. i must--er--really mention the matter to the governor." but there was consolation in store for the ill-used geoffry. having thus fallen in with the santorex's it was the most natural thing in the world that he should accompany them the greater part of the way home. consolation? well, have we not sufficiently emphasised the fact that yseulte santorex was a very beautiful girl? it must be admitted that the future squire of lant did not, either in personal appearance or mental endowment, attain any higher standard than commonplace mediocrity. he was very much a reproduction of his father, though without his father's calculating and avaricious temperament, for he was a good-natured fellow enough in his way. "no harm in him, and too big a fool ever to be a knave," had been mr santorex' verdict on this fortunate youth as he watched him grow up. had he been aware of it, this summing-up would sorely have distressed the young squire, for of late during the oxford vacation geoffry vallance had eagerly seized or manufactured opportunities for being a good deal at elmcote. chapter six. the indian village. a long, open valley, bounded on either side by flat, table-topped hills, and threaded by a broad but shallow stream, whose banks are fringed by a straggling belt of timber. sheltered by this last stand tall conical lodges, some in irregular groups, some dotted down in twos and threes, others in an attempt at regularity and the formation of a square, but the whole extending for upwards of a mile. in the far distance, at the open end of the valley, the eye is arrested by turret-shaped buttes, showing the _bizarre_ formation and variegated strata characteristic of the "bad lands." the stream is known as dog creek, and along its banks lie the winter villages of a considerable section of the sioux and cheyenne tribes. the westering sun, declining in the blue frosty sky, lights up the river like a silver band, and glows upon the white picturesque lodges, throwing into prominence the quaint and savage devices emblazoned upon their skin walls. within the straggling encampment many dark forms are moving, and the clear air rings ever and anon with the whoop of a gang of boys, already playing at warlike games; the shrill laughter of young squaws, and the cackle of old ones; an occasional neigh from the several herds of ponies feeding out around the villages and the tramp of their hoofs; or vibrates to the nasal song of a circle of jovial merrymakers. here and there, squatted around a fire in the open, huddled up in their blankets, may be descried a group of warriors, solemnly whiffing at their long pipes, the while keeping up a drowsy hum of conversation in a guttural undertone, and from the apex of each pyramidal "_teepe_" a column of blue smoke rises in rings upon the windless atmosphere. it is a lovely day, and although the surrounding hills are powdered with snow, down here in the valley the hardened ground sparkles with merely a crisp touch of frost. then as the gloaming deepens the fires glow more redly, and the life and animation of the great encampment increases. young bucks, bedaubed with paint, and arrayed in beadwork and other articles of savage finery, swagger and lounge about; the nodding eagle quill cresting their scalp-locks giving them a rakish, and at the same time martial, aspect, as they wander from tent to tent, indulging in guffaws amongst themselves, or exchanging broad "chaff" with a brace or so of coppery damsels here and there, who, for their part, can give as readily and as freely as they can take. or a group is engaged in an impromptu dance, both sexes taking part, to a running accompaniment of combined guttural and nasal drone, varied now and again by a whoop. wolfish curs skulk around, on the look-out to steal if allowed the chance, snarling over any stray offal that may be thrown them, or uttering a shrill yelp on receipt of an arrow or two from some mischievous urchin's toy bow; and, altogether, with the fall of night, the hum and chatter pervading this wild community seems but to increase. great stars blaze forth in the frosty sky, not one by one, but with a rush, for now darkness has settled upon the scene, though penetrated and scattered here and there by the red glare of some convivial or household fire. and now it becomes apparent that some event of moment is to take place shortly, for a huge fire is kindled in front of the large council-lodge, which stands in the centre of the village, and, mingling with the monotonous "tom-tom" of drums, the voices of heralds are raised, convening chiefs and warriors to debate in solemn conclave. no second summons is needed. the unearthly howling of the dancers is hushed as if by magic, the horseplay and boisterous humour of youthful bucks is laid aside, and from far and near all who can lay claim to the rank of warrior--even the youngest aspirants to the same hanging on the outskirts of the crowd--come trooping towards the common centre. within the council-lodge burns a second fire, the one outside being for the accommodation of the crowd, and it is round this that the real debate will take place. as the flames shoot up crisply, the interior is vividly illumined, displaying the trophies with which the walls are decked--trophies of the chase and trophies of war, horns and rare skins, scalps and weapons; and, disposed in regular order, the mysterious "medicine bags" and "totems" of the tribal magnates, grotesque affairs mostly, birds' heads and claws, bones or grinning jaws of some animal, the whole plentifully set off with beadwork and paint and feathers. then the crowd outside parts decorously, giving passage to those whose weight and standing entitle them to a seat within the sacred lodge, and a voice in the council. stately chieftains arrayed in their most brilliant war-costumes--the magnificent war-bonnets of eagles' plumes cresting their heads and flowing almost to the ground behind, adding an indescribably martial and dignified air to their splendid stature and erect carriage--advance with grave and solemn step to the council fire and take their seats, speaking not a word, and looking neither to the right nor to the left partisans, or warriors of tried skill and daring, who, without the rank and following of chiefs, are frequently elected to lead an expedition on the war-path, these, too, in equally splendid array, have a place in the assembly; after them, lesser braves, until the lodge can hold no more. the crowd must listen to what it can of the debates from without. from the standpoint of their compatriots, some of these warriors are very distinguished men indeed. there is long bull, and mountain cat, and crow-scalper, all implacable and redoubted foes of the whites. there is burnt wrist, and spotted tail, and lone panther, and a dozen other notable chiefs. last, but not least, there is red cloud, orator, statesman, and seer, the war-chief of the ogallalla clan, and medicine chief virtually of the whole sioux nation. the flames of the council fire leap and crackle, casting a lurid glow on the stern visages of the assembled warriors. many of these wear brilliantly-coloured tunics of cloth or dressed buckskin, more or less tastefully adorned with beadwork or shining silver plates. over this, carelessly thrown, or gracefully dangling from its wearer's shoulder, is the outer "robe" of soft buffalo hide, blazoned all over with hieroglyphics and pictures setting forth the owner's feats of arms or prowess in the chase, and among the scalp-locks fringeing tunics and leggings may be descried not a few that originally grew upon anglo-saxon heads. but all is in harmony, tasteful, barbarically picturesque; and the air of self-possessed dignity stamped upon the countenances of these plumed and stately warriors could not be surpassed by the most august assembly that ever swayed the affairs of old civilisation. one more personage is there whom we have omitted to mention. leaning against a lodge pole, as thoroughly unconcerned and at his ease among the red chieftains as ever he was in belgravian boudoir, his splendid face as impassive as their own, sits rupert vipan, and if ever man lived who was thoroughly calculated to inspire respect in the breasts of these warlike savages, assuredly he was that man. that he is here at all is sufficient to show in what honour he is held among his barbarian entertainers. and now in order to render more clearly the drift of the subsequent debate, some slight digression may here be necessary. the sioux, or dahcotah, as they prefer to be called, are about the only aboriginal race in north america whose numbers and prowess entitle them to rank as a nation. they are sub-divided into clans or tribes: ogallalla, minneconjou, uncpapa, brule, and many more, with the specification of which we need not weary the reader, but all more or less independent of each other, and acting under their own chiefs or not, as they choose. at the time of our story the whole of these, numbering about , souls, occupied a large tract comprising the south-western half of the territory of dakota, together with the adjacent extensive range in eastern montana and wyoming, watered by the yellowstone and powder rivers and their tributaries, and commonly called after the last-named stream. on the border-line of dakota and wyoming, and therefore within the indian reservation, stand the black hills, a rugged mountain group rising nearly , feet above the sea level, an insight into whose wild and romantic fastnesses we have already given. at that period popular rumour credited the black hills with concealed wealth to a fabulous extent. gold had already been found there, not in any great quantities, but still it had been found, and the nature and formation of the soil pointed to its existence in vast veins, at least so said popular rumour. that was enough. men began to flock to this new eldorado. parties of prospectors and miners found their way to its sequestered valleys, and soon the rocks rang to the sound of the pick, and the mountain streams which gurgled through its savage solitudes were fouled with the washing of panned dirt. but the miners had two factors to reckon with--the government and the indians. the former was bound by treaty to keep white men, particularly miners, out of the indian reservation; the latter became more and more discontented over the non-fulfilment of the agreement. the shrewd tribesmen knew that gold was even a greater enemy to their race than rum. the discovery of gold meant an incursion of whites; first a few, then thousands; cities, towns, machinery. then good-bye to the game, whereby they largely subsisted; good-bye, indeed, to the country itself, as far as they were concerned. they threatened war. it became necessary for something to be done. troops were sent to patrol the black hills, with strict injunctions to arrest all white men and send them under guard to the settlements. this was extensively done. but the expelled miners, watching their chance, lost no time in slipping back again, and their numbers, so far from decreasing, had just the opposite tendency, arrests notwithstanding. then the united states government resolved to purchase the black hills, and made overtures to the sioux accordingly. the latter were divided in opinion. some were for terms, the only question being as to their liberality; others were for rejecting the proposal at any price, and if the government still persisted in its neglect to keep out the white intruders, why then they must take the defence of their rights into their own hands. pause, o philanthropic reader, ere running away with the idea that these poor savages' rights were being ruthlessly trampled on; and remember the old legal maxim about coming into court with clean hands. the government tried to do its best, but in a vast, rugged, and lawless country the inhabitants are not to be policed as in a well-ordered city of the old world. men could not be hung merely for encroaching on the reservation, and the state of popular feeling precluded any sort of deterrent punishment. and then, were the indians themselves strictly observing their side of the treaty? let us see. for several summers the bands roaming in the powder river country had perpetrated not a few murders of whites, had run off stock and destroyed property to a considerable extent, in short, had taken the war-path, and this although nominally at peace. now it was by virtue of keeping the peace that their exclusive rights over the encroached-upon territory had been conceded. we have said that the sioux were made up of various sub-divisions or clans. now at that time there was not one of these which did not furnish a quota of warriors to swell the ranks of the hostiles. nominally at peace, and drawing rations from the government, the turbulent spirits of these tribes would slip away quietly in small parties, to join the hostile chiefs for a summer raid, returning to the agencies when they had had enough fighting and plunder, and becoming--in popular parlance--"good indians" again. these escapades were either winked at by the tribal chiefs, who remained quietly at the agencies, "keeping in" with the government, or were simply beyond their power to prevent. probably both attitudes held good, for the control exercised by an indian chief over his band or tribe seldom amounts to more than moral suasion. briefly, then, the sioux and their allies, the northern cheyennes, might be thus classified:-- . the hostiles, _i.e._, the bold and lawless faction who hardly made any secret of being on the war-path. these held the broken and rugged fastnesses of the powder river country already referred to. . the agency indians who, sitting still on their reserves, helped their hostile brethren with information and supplies. . the turbulent youths on the reservation, always ready to slip away on their own account, or to join the hostiles, in search of scalps, plunder, and fun in general. . the whole lot, ripe for any devilment, provided it offered a safe chance of success. such was the state of affairs in - - , and now apologising to the reader for this digression, let us get back to our council. chapter seven. the council. in silence the "medicine-man" prepared the great pipe, his lips moving in a magical incantation as he solemnly filled it. then handing the stem to vipan, who was seated on the right of red cloud, he applied a light to the bowl. this "medicine" or council pipe was a magnificent affair, as suited its solemn and ceremonial character. the large and massive bowl was of porous red stone, the stem, upwards of a yard in length, being profusely ornamented with beadwork and quills, and at intervals of a few inches flowed three long and carefully-dressed scalp-locks. vipan, fully alive to the position of honour he occupied, gravely inhaled the aromatic mixture with the utmost deliberation, expelling the smoke in clouds from his mouth and nostrils. then he passed it on to red cloud, who, after the same ceremony, in similar fashion passed it to the chief next him on his left, and so in dead silence it went round the circle, each warrior taking a series of long draws, and then, having handed the pipe to his neighbour, emitting a vast volume of smoke by a slow process which seemed to last several minutes, and the effect of which was not a little curious. no word had been uttered since they entered the lodge, and not until the pipe had made the complete round of the circle was the silence broken. then a sort of professional orator, whose mission was something similar to that of counsel for the plaintiff--viz., to "open the case"--arose and proceeded to set forth the grounds of debate. the dahcotah, he said, were a great nation, and so were their brethren the cheyennes, who also had an interest in the matter which had brought them together. both were represented here by many of their most illustrious chiefs and their bravest warriors, several of whom, in passing, the orator proceeded to name, together with the boldest feat of arms of each, and at each of these panegyrics a guttural "how-how!" went forth from his listeners. the dahcotah were not only a great people and a brave people, but they were also a long-suffering people. who among all the red races had such good hearts as the dahcotah? who among them would have remained at peace under such provocation as they had received and continued to receive? the debate was getting lively now. an emphatic exclamation of assent greeted the orator, whose tone, hitherto even, began to wax forcible. when the dahcotah agreed to bury the hatchet with the mehneaska [americans]--went on the speaker--a treaty was entered into, and under this the great father [the president of the united states] promised that the reservations they now occupied should be secured to them for ever-- that no white men should be allowed within them, either to hunt or to settle or to search for gold, and on these conditions the dahcotah agreed to abandon the war-path. that was seven years ago. they had abandoned it. they had "travelled on the white man's road," had sat within their reservations, molesting no one. they had made expeditions to their hunting-grounds to find food for their families and skins to build their lodges, but they had sent forth no war-parties. they had always treated the whites well. and now, how had the great father kept his promises? white men were swarming into the dahcotah country. first they came by twos and threes, quietly, and begging to be admitted as friends. then they came by twenties, armed with rifles and many cartridges, and began to lay out towns. soon the dahcotah country would be black with the smoke of their chimneys, and the deer and the buffalo, already scarce, would be a thing of the past. look at pahsapa [the black hills]. every valley was full of white men digging for gold. what was this gold, and whose was it? was it not the property of the dahcotah nation, on whose ground it lay hidden? if it was valuable, then the great father should make the dahcotah nation rich with valuable things in exchange for it. but these intruding whites took the gold and gave nothing to its owners--threatened them with bullets instead. it had been suggested that they should sell pahsapa. but these hills were "great medicine"--sacred ground entrusted to the dahcotah by the good spirit of life. how could they sell them? what price would be equivalent to such a precious possession? there was a chief here of mighty renown--the war-chief of the ogallalla--who had led the nation again and again to victory, whose war-whoop had scattered the whites like buffalo before the hunters, the "medicine chief" of the dahcotah race. when the council should hear his words on this matter their path would be plain before them. as the orator ceased an emphatic grunt went round the circle with a unanimity that spoke volumes. red cloud [note ], thus directly referred to, made, however, no sign. motionless as a statue, there was a thoughtful, abstracted look upon his massive countenance, as though he had not heard a word of the harangue. a few moments of silence, then another chief arose--a man of lofty stature and of grim and scowling aspect, his eyes scintillating with a cruel glitter from beneath his towering war-bonnet. after less than usual of the conventional brag as to the greatness of his nation and so forth, speaking fiercely and eagerly, as if anxious to come to the point, he went on:-- "what enemy has not felt the spring of mountain cat? from the far hunting-grounds of the kiowas and the apaches to the boundary line of the english in the north, there is not a spot of ground that mountain cat has not swept with his war-parties; not a village of the crawling shoshones or skulking pawnees that he has not taken scalps from; not a waggon train of these invading whites that he has not struck. when in the south the destroying locusts sweep down upon the land, they come not in one mighty cloud. no. they come one at a time at first, then a few more, fluttering quietly, far apart. it is nothing. but lo! in a moment there is a cloud in the air--a rush of wings, and the land is black with them--everything is devoured. so it is with these whites. one comes to trade, another comes to hunt, a third comes to visit us, two more come to search for this gold, and lo! the land is hidden beneath their devastating bands. their stinking chimneys blacken the air, their poisonous firewater kills our young men or reduces them to the level of the whites themselves, who drink until they wallow like hogs upon the earth, and brother kills brother because he has drunk away his mind and has become a brute beast. who would have dealings with such dogs as these? "there was a time when our hunting-grounds shook beneath the tread of countless buffalo. then we were great because free and feared--for who in those days dared incur the enmity of the dahcotah? what happened? the whites built their accursed roads and the steam-horse came puffing over the plains, and where are the buffalo to-day? the land is white with their skeletons, but will skeletons feed the dahcotah and supply skins for their winter lodges? the great father" (and the savage uttered the words with a contemptuous sneer) "then said, `let us send and kill all the buffalo, and the red races will starve.' so the white hunters came from the east and destroyed our food for ever. and where are we to-day? are we not living like beggars? are we not dependent on the agencies for our daily food and clothing, instead of upon our own arrows and lances as of yore? first came the settlers, whom we treated as friends, then the steam-horse and the iron road, then the finding of the gold. where this gold is, there the whites swarm. what do we gain, i say, by treating with these lying mehneaska? what have we ever gained? when they sought to throw open our territory by cutting it with a broad road, did we treat? no, we fought. where is that road to-day? where are the forts built along it to keep it open? gone--all gone. but the buffalo--what few are left--are there. how many would be left now had we traded away our rights? not one. the whole dahcotah nation went out upon the war-path. "the whites begged for peace, and we granted it them. they agreed to respect our country, which was all we asked. seven years have gone by, and how is that agreement kept? go, count the white men digging in pahsapa. ha! there are many scalps to be had in pahsapa." his tone, which had hitherto been one of quick, fierce emphasis, here assumed a slow and deadly meaning. the young warriors, listening without, gripped their weapons with a murmur of delighted applause. mountain cat was a chieftain after their own heart. let him but set up the war-post that very night. all the young men in the village would strike it. "we are strong," he continued, "strong and united. our bands are defending our hunting-grounds between this and the yellowstone, but what shall be thought of us if we allow the whites to invade us here, to deprive us of the medicine hills without a struggle? are we men, or have we become squaws since we began to receive doles of government beef?" then the fierce savage, raising his voice, his eyes blazing like lightning, stretched forth his arm in denunciatory gesture over the assembly, and continued: "mountain cat will never trust the promises of these mehneaska. if they want pahsapa, let them take it by right of conquest--by seizing it from the unconquerable dahcotah. there are scalps to be taken in pahsapa. let the whole dahcotah nation once more go out upon the war-path. i have said." vipan, listening impassively, though with keen attention, to every word that was uttered, here caught the eye of war wolf. the young warrior's face was a study in sardonic ferocity at the words, "there are scalps to be taken in pahsapa," and he grinned with delight over the fiendish joke shared between himself and golden face. the young bucks in the background were in ecstasies of glee. they anticipated no end of fun in the near future. several other speakers followed, and opinions on the advisability of war varied considerably. most of them advocated the sale, but for an enormous price. there was a white man among them to-night, they said, of a different race to these other whites, and towards him their hearts were good. he loved his red brethren; he was their brother. he had told them about other lands than that of the mehneaska--lands as large and as rich beyond the great salt lake. they must listen to him, for he was wise. he understood the ways of the whites, and would teach the dahcotah how to deal with them--so that if pahsapa should be sold they should receive full price; and not, as in other transactions, receive payment in promises. this, more or less plainly put, was the burden of their speeches. vipan, listening with more than indian composure, felt that things were tending all as he would have them. it may here be stated that he was alone among his red entertainers; smokestack bill, foreseeing how affairs were likely to drift, having returned to the log cabin among the mountains. for once the adventurer was glad of his comrade's absence. he could play his cards more freely; besides, the indians trusted him as belonging to another race. had the scout been still in the village, the two white men would not have been admitted to this council. then arose spotted tail, the head chief of the brule bands, and after red cloud, perhaps one of the most influential chiefs of the nation. he made a long oration, of considerable eloquence, but it was all in favour of peace. there was no need, he said, to reiterate that they were a great nation. everybody knew it. as many speakers had asserted, the dahcotah had never been conquered. why was this? because they were not only a brave but a prudent people. a brave man without prudence was like a grizzly bear--he might slay so many enemies more or less, but he invited his own destruction by rushing upon their rifles. as with a man, so it was with a nation. prudence was everything. this gold which white men were now finding among the hills--did not all experience show that wherever it was discovered, there the whites would soon appear in countless swarms? gold was the "medicine" of the whites--they could not resist it. not even all the warriors the dahcotah could muster could in the long run stand between the whites and gold--no, nor all the warriors of every tribe from the apaches in the south to the blackfeet on the english boundary line. the last time they went upon the war-path it was to prevent the whites from making a broad road through their country-- and they succeeded. if they went upon it this time it would be to keep the whites away from this gold. that was a thing which no tribe or nation had ever succeeded in doing yet, or ever would. let the dahcotah be prudent. as for these hills, it was true they were "great medicine," but the people seldom hunted in them. they were not of much use. the mehneaska were very anxious to possess them, and the great father was so rich he could afford to give such a price as would make the dahcotah rich too. besides, it was evident that he wished to treat them fairly this time, for had he not sent troops to drive away the intruding gold-seekers? they had come back, it was true; but this only proved the difficulties besetting the whole question. let the dahcotah nation be prudent-- prudence was the keystone to every matter of international difficulty. his counsel was for entering into negotiations at once about the purchase. he was also emphatically on the side of peace. very faint were the murmurs of applause from the young men outside as spotted tail resumed his seat. the war spirit was in the air, and the burden of his speech was unpalatable to them. then red cloud said: "golden face sits in an honoured place at the council fire of the dahcotah people. they will listen to his words as to the voice of a brother." with a slight bend of the head in acknowledgment of this graceful invitation, vipan arose. as he stood for a few moments silently contemplating the circle of stately chiefs, the firelight glinting on the flowing masses of his beard and bringing into strong relief the herculean proportions of his towering stature, there was not an eye among the crowd of fierce and excitable savages but dilated with admiration. here was indeed a man. "who am i that stand to address you to-night?" he began, speaking in their own tongue with ease and fluency. "who knows? i will not boast. suffice it to say that i have led men to war, in other lands beyond the great salt seas. i have struck the enemy, and that not once only. i have seen his back, but he has never seen mine. enough. who am i? it has been said that i am not of the race around us. that is so. there are many white races; that to which i have belonged matters nothing, for i own no race, i am akin to all the world," with a sweep of the arm that would have done credit to one of their own most finished orators. "the people whose hearts are straight towards me, whether light or dark, white or red, that is my people. those who deal fairly with me, i deal fairly with; those who do not, let them beware. you in council have asked my advice. i cannot give advice, but my _opinion_ the chiefs before me can value or not. "i have listened to the speeches of many valiant men. some have advocated peace, others have been for war. it is a simple thing to go to war. is it? when the red men strike the war-post, they muster their warriors, and go forth to battle. when the whites decide on war, they collect their dollars, and pay soldiers to go and fight for them. the red men fight with weapons, the whites with dollars. the red men would rather forego their chance of booty than lose one warrior. the whites would rather lose a thousand soldiers than five thousand dollars. but, you will say: if the whites have the dollars, and value not the lives of other people, what chance have we, for they are rich, and can pay? wait a moment. men are wonderfully alike, whether red or white. is it your experience that the richest man is the man who cares least for his possessions? it is not mine. "now let your ears be open, for this is the point. the fear of losing men will not deter the whites from going to war; no, not for a moment, but the fear of losing dollars will. it is not the soldiers who make the war, it is the people who pay for it. these will not allow war to be made by their rulers for fun. "were i a councillor of the dahcotah nation, this is what i should say: first, let the great father prove that he is in earnest by turning all the whites out of pahsapa, or allowing us to do so. when this is done-- but not until then--we will enter into negotiations for the purchase. then i should ask eighty million dollars in cash. it is a large sum, but nothing compared with the value of the ground itself. the mehneaska will gladly pay this, rather than embark in a war which they know will cost them twenty times as much, for they know the prowess of the dahcotah nation, and respect the name of red cloud," turning with a graceful inclination towards the chief at his side. "and there are many whites who will refuse to pay for a war with the red men. they love their red brethren, they say. it is no trouble to love people you have never seen. they do not really love you, but pretend to, which is more to your interest still; so that others shall say:--`what good people, to take such care of the poor red man.' they will take your part and see that you are not wronged, because sympathy gives no trouble, and is cheap, and they think it a sure and easy way to the white man's happy hunting-grounds. "in short, then, were i one of themselves, these would be my words to the chiefs and warriors of the dahcotah nation:--be firm; fix your price, and in any attempt to beat you down, stand as immovable as the towering inyan kara. having fixed it, get someone whom you can trust to see that you obtain it; and, above all, write in your hearts the warning of the great chief who has just sat down, for it contains the words of golden wisdom: `a brave man without _prudence_ is like the grizzly bear--he invites his own destruction.' "there is one more thing to talk about. i and the warriors of the dahcotah nation are brothers, and our hearts are the same. i who speak with you am of no race. i am akin to all the world, to all men whose hearts are good towards me. but although i am of no race i have friends of every race. when the war-parties of the dahcotah are abroad, it may be that they will find me. who would strike the friends of his brother? such of the mehneaska as may be with me are my friends, and the dahcotah warriors will pass on, saying:--`we do not strike the friends of our brother, lest we turn him into an enemy.' yet why should i talk of this? only that in the days of youth the blood is hot, and young men upon the war-path strike first, and think afterwards. enough, my words are for the ears of chiefs. my heart and the hearts of the great chiefs to whom i speak, are the same. i have spoken." the clear ringing voice, the fluent language, the determination, even the veiled menace in the last words of the speaker, appealed straight to the most susceptible side of his savage hearers. one white man alone in their midst, and he did not shrink from threatening them with his hostility in the event of certain contingencies--threatening _them_, in their own estimation the most redoubtable warriors in the world! assuredly he knew the way to their respect. there were some there, however, in whom these last words aroused a feeling of rankling hostility, among them that fierce, that uncompromising abhorrer of the whole white race, mountain cat. this grim chieftain smiled sardonically to himself, as he inwardly promised what sort of treatment should be meted out to anyone whom his war-party should surprise, be they the friends of whom they might. then ensued a period of silence, and every eye was turned with expectation upon red cloud. but that crafty chief was not yet prepared to commit himself to a definite policy either way. sitting motionless, he had weighed every word which had fallen from the speakers, and notably from the last. he was too far-sighted to plunge his nation into open war before the time was ripe: and his thinking out of the situation had convinced him that it was not. there were still cards to be played. so when he spoke it was briefly. cautiously touching on the _pros_ and _cons_ of the speeches they had listened to, he announced that the situation must further be delayed, hinting that meanwhile such of his countrymen as felt aggressively disposed towards the common enemy had better exercise great prudence. the council was at an end. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . this chief, over and above his skill and intrepidity as a warrior, enjoyed a high reputation among the indians of the northern plains as a magician and a seer--a reputation really due to his astuteness, keen foresight, and extraordinary luck. chapter eight. the scalp-dance. uncas and wingenund are very pretty creations, but they represent the savage as he really is about as accurately as the founder of christianity represents the average christian of the current century. which may be taken to mean that all preconceived and popular ideas of the "noble red man" can safely be relegated to the clouds. nobody was more aware of this than vipan, consequently he knew exactly at what valuation to take all these overwhelmingly fraternal speeches of his red brethren. he knew--none better--that the wily chiefs intended to make use of him; he knew, moreover, that he could be of use to them; equally was he determined to receive a full equivalent for his services, and this equivalent he intended should be nothing less than the exclusive right of mining in the black hills. his shrewd mind had grasped the sense of the council, and he realised that a sort of desultory warfare, for which no one was responsible, would be undertaken against the white men already there. these, isolated by twos and threes at their scattered mining camps, could not hope to make a successful stand against bands of savages raiding upon them incessantly. they would be driven out, and then he, vipan, the friend and "brother" of the red possessors, would pick out all the best claims, work them with a will, and quickly make his fortune. a daring and unscrupulous plan? yes; but nature had endowed the man with indomitable daring, and circumstances had combined to render him utterly unscrupulous. in advising the chiefs to ask the enormous sum named above, and to abide by their demand, he was perfectly well aware that the united states government would not agree to it, but the larger the demand the more protracted would be the haggle, and the more protracted the haggle the more time would be his wherein to enrich himself. there was one factor which he overlooked--or if it occurred to him he preferred to put it aside--the possibility that the yield of gold would not come up to anything like his expectations. but he was sanguine. adventurers of his type invariably are. give him a fair chance and his fortune was made. vipan was very popular in the indian village. apart from the consequence attaching to him as the friend and guest of the great chief--for he had taken up his quarters in red cloud's own lodge--he mixed freely with all the warriors, chatting with them, and treating them as friends and equals. indians in private life are arrant gossips, and the adventurer being one of those adaptable persons at home in any society was in great request, for he was essentially "good company," and two-thirds of the night would be spent in this or that warrior's _teepe_, the structure crowded to suffocation, listening to his droll, or tragical, or romantic stories of all parts of the world. then, too, he would accompany the young bucks on their hunting trips, in no case allowing their success to excel his; or would organise shooting matches among them. there were instances even wherein he was not above cutting out one or two of them in some--what we will call--boudoir intrigue, purely for the devilment of the thing, and if only to show them that there was nothing in which he could not surpass them--whether in love, war, or the chase. all this told. their respect and admiration for him were unbounded, yet had they by chance the good fortune to surprise him alone on the prairie, and get him into their power, it is doubtful whether any consideration of friendship would suffice to restrain some of the young bucks from taking his scalp. and of this he himself was well aware. it was the evening of the day after the council. vipan, returning from a solitary hunt, to the success of which an antelope strapped behind his saddle, and several brace of sand-grouse dangling from the same, bore silent testimony, found his thoughts fully occupied weighing the position of affairs, and the more he looked at it the less he liked it. there was a hitch somewhere, and on this he had no difficulty in putting his finger. a powerful faction in the village was hostile to him altogether, and this was the uncompromising war-faction--grey wolf, the chief of the cheyenne band; mountain cat, the ogallalla; also war wolf, who, although not a chief, yet aspired to this dignity, and who, his youth notwithstanding, was a warrior of such prestige among his fellows as to be no mean adversary. these especially--and there were others--he knew distrusted him and his plans. they were inveterate haters of all whites indiscriminately, and while they had hitherto treated him with grim courtesy, yet the covert hostility of their manner and words was not lost upon so shrewd an observer as himself. but it was certain that although the distrust or antipathy of these men might place obstacles in his path, yet no sort of alarm did it inspire him with. he was the proper stuff out of which adventurers are made--utterly reckless. the crisp, frosty ground crackled beneath the hoofs of his powerful black horse; the sun had gone down, and the white conical lodges of the sioux village stood spectral in the grey twilight. there was a stillness and peace pervading the scene, which was very unusual in such close proximity to the savage encampment. suddenly, shrilling forth loud and clear upon the evening air, rang out the terrible war-whoop. to say that vipan saw that his weapons were ready to hand would be superfluous, for they were always in a state of readiness. but he did not quite like the look of things, and more than one keen, anxious glance did he cast, without seeming to do so, into the belt of timber which he was skirting. suddenly the semi-gloom seemed alive with dusky shapes flitting among the tree stems, and then all around him arose once more the war-whoop, which was taken up and echoed back from the village amid the frantic hammering of many drums. "what's it all about, three elks?" he asked tranquilly, as a tall warrior glided past him in the twilight. "how! scalp!" replied the savage laconically, and then opening his mouth he once more set up the hideous shout as he rushed on. the aspect of the sioux village was that of the nethermost shades with all the fiends holding high revel. for the open space in front of the council-lodge was alive with excited indians, those coming in from without whooping or shrilling their war-whistles as they rushed into the thick of the surging throng. gangs of squaws squatted around, keeping up a wild, nasal, yelling chant, to the monotonous "tom-tom" of drums. red fires glared upon the night; while hundreds of excited warriors, plumed and hideously painted, falling into something like a circular formation, revolved around several poles, from which dangled and flapped scalps in various stages of preservation--some dry and parchment-like, others fresh and only half cured. round and round circled the wild dance, the hoarse howling of the warriors, varied occasionally by a deafening war-whoop; the nasal yelling of the squaws; the hammering of drums and the screech of whistles; the lurid glare of the fires upon the fierce bounding shapes and the hideously streaked bodies and plumed heads; the gleam of weapons and the disgusting trophies flapping up aloft; all went to make up a weird and appalling pandemonium which baffles description. and yet so contagious, so insidious in its effect was this barbarous saturnalia that vipan could with difficulty restrain himself from rushing into the maddened throng, and, brandishing his weapons, whoop and howl with the wildest of them. one thing he observed which, in any other man as well acquainted with the indian character as himself, would have been productive of uneasiness. the dancers consisted almost entirely of young bucks, every chief or partisan of any note being conspicuous by his absence. but although he knew that his position was precarious in the extreme there in the midst of that crowd of savages, quickly working themselves into a state of uncontrollable excitement, yet there was such an irresistible fascination about the whole thing that he felt rooted to the spot. suddenly war wolf, bounding up to one of the poles, detached a couple of scalps, and, waving them aloft, uttered an ear-splitting yell. the savage, bedaubed from head to foot with yellow paint spotted all over with blotches of vermilion, brandishing a tomahawk in one hand and the ghastly trophies in the other, while with blazing eyes he yelled forth the history of his bloody exploit, looked a very fiend. then as his eyes met those of vipan, standing on the outside of the circle, he gave vent to a devilish laugh, flourishing the scalps ironically towards the latter. the war-whoop pealed forth again, shriller, fiercer, and many a bloodthirsty glare was turned upon vipan from a hundred pairs of eyes, as the maddened barbarians revolved in their frenzied rout. but he never quailed. the fascination was complete. and through it he noted two things. both scalps were fresh. hardly a week had passed since they grew upon the heads of their owners--and one of them was plentifully covered with a thick crop of red hair. a voice at his side, speaking in quiet tones, broke the spell. "golden face should be hungry and tired. will he not come in, and rest and eat?" turning, he beheld red cloud. the latter's eyes wandered from his to the crowd of furious dancers with a meaning there was no mistaking. without a word he turned and strolled away with the chief. chapter nine. some old correspondence. mr santorex and his daughter were seated in the former's own especial sanctum, busily engaged in sorting and destroying old letters and papers. the room was a pleasant one, somewhat sombre perhaps--thanks to its panelling of dark oak--but the window commanded a lovely view of the lant valley. round the room stood cabinet cupboards, enclosing collections of insects, birds' eggs, plants, etc., and surmounted by a number of glass cases containing stuffed birds and animals. fishing-rods on a rack, a few curiosities of savage weapons, and a portrait or two adorned the walls. "had enough of it, chickie? rather a sin to keep you boxed up here this lovely morning, isn't it?" "no, father, of course it isn't. besides, we are nearly at the end of these `haunting memories of bygone days,' aren't we? or we shall be by lunch-time, anyhow." it was indeed a lovely morning. the sweet spring air, wafting in at the window, floated with it the clear song of larks poised aloft in the blue ether, the bleating of young lambs disporting amid the buttercups on the upland pastures, and many another note of the pleasant country blending together in harmonious proportion. "`haunting memories,' eh?" replied mr santorex, seeming to dwell somewhat over the sheaf of yellow and timeworn papers he held in his hand. "instructive--yes. a record of the average crop of idiocies a man sows in earlier life under the impression that he is doing the right thing. acting under a generous impulse, i believe it is called." thus with that cynical half-smile of his did mr santorex keep up a running comment on each separate episode chronicled among the papers and letters filed away in his despatch-box. some he merely looked at and put aside without a word; others he descanted upon in his peculiar dry and caustic fashion which always inspired the listeners with something bordering on repulsion. yseulte herself could not but realise that there was a something rather cold-blooded, not to say ruthless, about her tranquil and philosophical parent that would have awed--almost repelled--her but that she loved him very dearly. her nature was a concentrative one, and unsusceptible withal. she had hardly made any friends, because she had seen no one worth entertaining real friendship for, and she was a girl who would not fall in love readily. "i wish i hadn't seen this just now, father," she said, handing him back a sheaf of letters. it was a correspondence of a lively nature, and many years back, between himself and mr vallance. "you see, the vallances are all coming up here this afternoon, and i don't feel like being civil to them immediately upon it." "pooh! civility means nothing, not in this location at least. why, when we first came here we were overwhelmed with it. it didn't last many months certainly, but it broke out afresh when rumour made me a millionaire. why, what have you got there?" for she was now scrutinising, somewhat intently, a photograph which had fallen out of a bundle of papers among the piles they had been sorting. it represented a youngish man, strikingly handsome, and with a strong, reckless stamp of countenance; and though the original must have been prematurely bald, the mouth was almost hidden by a long heavy moustache. a queer smile came into mr santorex's face. "think that's the type you could fall in love with, eh, chickie? well, i advise you not to, for i can't bring you face to face with the original." "why? who is it?" "who is it? no less a personage than the disinherited heir, ralph vallance. the plot thickens, eh?" "i didn't know. i thought he was dead, if i ever knew there was such a person, that is. why was he disinherited?" "ah, that's something of a story. poor ralph! i think he was most unfairly treated, always did think so; especially when that hum--er, i mean, our spiritual guide, jumped into his shoes. no, i daresay you never heard much about it, but you are a woman now, my dear, and a deuced sensible one too, as women go, and i always hold that it is simply nonsensical and deleterious to their moral fibre to let women-- sensible ones, that is--go about the world with their eyes shut. to come back to our romance. the old squire of lant was a straight-laced, puritanical fossil, and master ralph was just the reverse, an extravagant, roystering young dog who chucked away ten pounds for every one that he was worth, in fact the ideal `plunger' as you girls estimate that article. naturally, there were occasional breezes down at the hall, nor were these effectually tempered by the crafty intervention of cousin dudley, who ran the vicarage in those days. the old man used to get very mad, especially when ralph began dabbling in _post obits_, and vowed he'd cut off that hopeful with a shilling, and leave everything to his reverend nephew. finally, the regiment went on foreign service, and while the transport was lying at the abraham islands, where she had put in for coal and other supplies, that young idiot, ralph vallance, must needs get mixed up in a confounded domestic scandal there was no clapping an extinguisher on. the mischief of the thing was that it nearly concerned the governor of the place, whose interest was considerable enough to get master ralph cashiered, in the event of his failing to send in his papers at once. of the two evils, he chose the latter, and least; and as it could not be kept from his affectionate parent, that sturdy pharisee duly cut him off with a shilling and departed this life forthwith. so the revered and reverend dudley reigns in both their steads." "i wonder mr vallance has the conscience to take the property at the expense of his cousin, whatever the latter might have done." "you do, do you! oh, chickie, to think that you and i should have been sworn allies all through your long and illustrious career, and you still capable of propounding such a sentiment! know then, o recreant, that our sacred friend, although he may be something of a kn--ah'm! has nothing of the fool about him, although the other was a consummate young ass, or he would never have gone the length of getting himself cut out of his patrimony." "but didn't mr vallance do anything for him?" "i have it on the best authority, that of the victim himself, that he did not. ralph, however, was determined not to be outdone in generosity, for he came raging down here one fine day consumed with anxiety to take his reverend cousin by the scruff of the neck and give him a liberal thrashing. it was just as well, perhaps, that chance enabled me to prevent him." "you knew him then, father?" "yes, we struck up acquaintance on that occasion. poor ralph! he was a fine fellow, whatever his faults, and, mind you, my impression is that in the last affair it was a case of clapping the saddle on the wrong horse, that he was screening somebody else, and allowed the blame to fall on himself rather than `peach.' it was magnificent, but--stark idiotic." "he has a very, fine face," said yseulte, again taking up the photograph and examining it thoughtfully. the fact that he had suffered at the hands of his slippery cousin was quite enough to enlist all her sympathies in behalf of the romantic scapegrace. "yes, it is. you know i am not given to indiscriminate eulogium, but without hesitation i think ralph vallance was about the finest specimen of manhood i ever saw." "what has become of him now?" "i haven't the faintest notion. all this happened a good many years ago, when you were almost in your cradle. why, ralph, if he is alive, must be getting on in years by this time. there, that's about all the story that it's worth your while to know, my dear, and now we'll lock the correspondence away in my private safe. let me have the portrait again when you have done with it." yseulte, as we have said, was not a romantically inclined girl, yet, somehow, this faded portrait of the man of whom nobody had heard anything for almost as many years as she herself had lived, made a vivid impression on her. as she sat contemplating it, a voice arose from the lawn beneath, saying in the most approved oxford drawl: "ah, how do you do, mrs santorex? i've brought rather a queer plant that your husband may not have in his collection. it strikes me as a curious specimen." and then mrs santorex was heard asking the speaker in. father and daughter looked at each other with the most comical expression in the world. then the former murmured, with a dry, noiseless laugh: "he's found the four-leaved shamrock. oh, chickie, chickie! have some pity on poor geoffry plantagenet, and put him out of his misery, once and for all!" the girl could hardly stifle her laughter. her father, for his part, was thinking resignedly that to the bald expedients devised by enamoured youth as pretexts for numerous and wholly unnecessary visits to the parent or lawful guardian of its idol, there is no limit. chapter ten. poor geoffry. the clever author of "mine is thine" lays it down as an axiom that nothing so completely transforms the average sensible man into a consummate idiot for the time being as an _arriere pensee_; and it is an axiom the soundness of which all observation goes to prove. geoffry vallance, if not passing brilliant, was endowed with average sense and more than average assurance, yet when he found himself seated opposite yseulte at the luncheon table in accordance with that young lady's father's impromptu invitation, his wits were somewhat befogged. not to put too fine a point upon it, he was distressingly conscious of feeling an ass, and, worse still, of looking one. his conversation, normally lucid, and, like the brook, apt to "go on for ever," was now a little incoherent, jerky, and limited in area; his demeanour, normally self-possessed, not to say a trifle assertive, was now constrained, spasmodic, and painfully apprehensive of saying or doing the wrong thing. the poor fellow was over head and ears in love, which blissful state developed a new phase in his character--a self-consciousness and a diffidence which no one would have suspected to lie hidden there. eager to show at his best in the eyes of yseulte and her father, he, of course showed at his worst. it never occurred to him--it does not to most men under the circumstances--that heroic qualities are not essential to the adequate looking after of multifold dress baskets and hand luggage at the railway station or on board the channel packet; that a greek profile is hardly requisite to the unmurmuring liquidation of milliners' bills, or the torso of a milo to the deft fulfilment of the _role_ of domestic poodle. these considerations did not occur to him, but a wretched consciousness of his own deficiencies in appearance and attainments did, and now to this was added the recollection of that ridiculous position they had seen him in only a day or two ago, and which had lain heavily on his mind ever since. "too great a fool ever to be a knave" had been mr santorex's dictum, not meaning thereby that geoffry was a dunce or a blockhead, the fact being that he was a hard reader and expected to take high honours at the end of the ensuing term. but in other matters, field sports and real _savoir vivre_, he was something of a duffer. yet though father and daughter disliked the residue of the house of vallance, they entertained a sort of good-humoured kindness towards geoffry, who was at worst a muff, and good-natured, and with no harm in him. and of this feeling poor geoffry had an inkling. a little chaff about muggins' bull, and yseulte, seeing that the topic was distressful to the hero of the adventure, good-naturedly turned it; for in spite of her previously expressed disinclination for showing any civility towards the vallances that day, she seemed quite to have forgiven them as far as geoffry was concerned, and was as kind to him as ever. the plant, by the way, which had served as pretext for this visit, was a fraud of the first water, but mr santorex, while showing its worthlessness as a specimen, had not only spared, but even flattered, the feelings of the donor, for, thorough cynic as he was at heart, in his practice he was a very tolerant man where the wretched little tricks and subterfuges of mediocrity in distress were concerned, always provided that these were not intended to serve as a cloak to knavery. when they were, his merciless predilection for, and powers of, dissection had full indulgence. the hereditary searing-iron must have found place in his daughter's composition, though untempered by the experience of years and maturity. for there was something of feline cruelty in the way in which, when luncheon was over, she lured poor geoffry out into the garden, talking serenely in that beautifully modulated voice of hers, as, every action full of unconscious grace, she bent down to pluck a flower here, or raise a drooping plant there; or looking up into his face now and then with such a straight glance out of her grand eyes as to make the poor fellow fairly tremble with bewilderment, and stammer and stutter in his attempts to express himself, until he was pitiable to behold. but though ashamed of the impulse, yseulte was unable wholly to resist it. this poor-spirited adorer of hers--was he not standing in another's place, smugly enjoying and thriving upon what had been reft from its rightful owner by a pitiful and underhanded trick--a trick which, though legally permissible, was morally as complete an act of deliberate fraud as any for which men were sent into penal servitude? that photograph, you see, had fired a new train of thought in the girl's adventurous mind. it was a splendid face, that which looked at her from the bit of faded cardboard. its strong, reckless expression had seemed to haunt her ever since. she had never seen anything like it. and it was that of an injured and ill-used man; a man, too, with a vein of real heroism running through his character, and therefore unlike other men; for had not her father expressed his conviction that this man was suffering wrongfully, was a beggar for life, rather than speak the word which should inculpate someone else? she looked at her stuttering, flurried admirer there present, and turned away to hide a contemptuous curl of the lip; she thought of the defrauded and absent one--whose place he had usurped--wandering destitute over the earth, and her feelings were strangely stirred. yet the former she knew well, his failings and his good points; the latter she had only seen in a portrait--and an old and faded portrait at that. was she going to fall in love with an old and faded portrait? well, it was beginning to look uncommonly as if she might. geoffry was on tenterhooks. they were alone, and likely so to be left for some little while longer at any rate. should he try his fate? anything was better than this suspense. he would. alas for the defeat of praiseworthy enterprise! the words would not come. he pounced upon a flower which yseulte had been toying with and had thrown down, and while stuttering over the discarded blossom as a preliminary, a well-known and silky voice behind the pair made him start and redden like a child detected in the forbidden jam-cupboard. "ah, there you are, geoffry. we thought you were being well taken care of by our good friends here, so we didn't wait lunch for you. how are you, yseulte? my young people will be here soon. i left them on the road, or just starting." it is doubtful whether geoffry's feelings towards his sire were affectionate just then. yseulte, however, felt that the latter's presence was rather welcome. her adorer's embarrassment portended something she preferred to avoid. so she welcomed the reverend squire quite cordially. a gleam of colour on the lawn and the sound of voices betokened the arrival of the rest of the family, and lo--lucy and agnes and cecilia and anastasia, tennis-racquet in hand and arrayed in white flannels or scarlet flannels, or blue flannels, and crowned with hats of stupendous dimensions. they were all fair, blue-eyed girls, passable-looking if somewhat expressionless, very much alike, and numbering just a year apiece between their ages. no great cordiality existed between these young ladies and yseulte santorex, as we have said; still, society has its duties, and leaving the latter to fulfil the provisions of this threadbare truism on the sunny lawn at elmcote, wave we our magic wand to transport the reader to a very different scene. chapter eleven. "hands up!" a dull, leaden-grey sky; a few stray feathery flakes floating upon the frosty air; an icebound stream; a dark serrated ridge rising to the heavens on the one hand; on the other a lofty peak towering away into the misty heights. the dull moaning noise of the wind through the forest, and the distant howling of wolves, for the wintry evening is rapidly closing in, renders the whole scene and surroundings indescribably desolate and dreary. a hoof-stroke on the frost-bound earth. who is this riding abroad in the weird wilderness at such an hour, with the snowstorm lowering overhead, darkness and the multifold perils of the great mountains in front! phantom steed and phantom rider? whether visionary or material, however, the latter glances upward anxiously from time to time. darkness and the impending storm! what he urgently needs is daylight and tranquillity. he reins in his powerful black steed, and gazes intently for a few moments at the towering peak half lost in the snow-cloud; then abruptly turning his horse, rides about forty yards at right angles, and again sits contemplating the lofty crag. somewhat of an extraordinary proceeding this. why does not the man hasten upon his way? a matter of but a few hours and these desolate solitudes will be the theatre of such a strife and whirl of the elements that any human being, one would think, would strain every effort to reach a place of safety and comfort before the fury of the tempest is upon him. but this man seems in no sort of hurry; indeed, were it not for his occasional anxious glances heavenward, he might be deemed ignorant of the impending cataclysm. "there is ma-i-pah, the red peak," he muses. "there is the forked pine, and i have got them in line. so far good. the next thing is to find the scathed tree. but--oh curse the snow-cloud! it may be months before--" "cau-aak!" a flap-flap of wings in the brake. a raven, rising almost under the horse's feet, wings its way to the boughs of a neighbouring oak. so sudden is the hideous croak, echoing upon the stillness of this deathly solitude, that even the iron nerves of the horseman are not proof against a superstitious thrill. but those nerves are strung up to a pitch of suppressed excitement which is all engrossing. "cau-aak--cau-aak!" a second raven rises from the brake, and floats lazily off to join the first, resembling in its grim blackness some foul demon of the wilderness disturbed in his den of horrors. struck with an idea, the rider turns his horse and enters the covert. following him, we seem to have stood on this spot before. there are the two crosses recently cut upon the huge pine-trunk, so recently that the fresh resin exuding from them is all red and sticky as though the very tree were weeping blood for the two hapless ones, victims of a deed of blood, lying beneath it. there is the mound of earth and stones. stay! that mound has surely undergone a transformation; for it is half overthrown, and the earth is rent and burrowed, and cast up in all directions. and there, scattered around, lie the bones of the murdered men, broken and picked nearly clean by the carrion beasts and birds of the wilderness. by a ghastly coincidence, the two scalpless heads, half denuded of flesh, lay side by side grinning as if in agony, their sightless sockets, gory and half filled with earth, gaping up at the intruder. an awful, an appalling sight to come upon suddenly in the twilight gloom of that grisly forest--a sight to shake the strongest nerves, to haunt the spectator to his dying day. but he who now looks upon it is little concerned, though even he cannot repress a slight shiver of disgust as he contemplates the horrid spectacle. he dismounts, and leading his horse away from the mournful relics, at which the animal snorts and shies in alarm, hitches him up to a sapling, and then proceeds narrowly to scrutinise the ground. the man's figure looks gigantic in the semi-gloom, as casting his ample buffalo robe off one shoulder, he lays his rifle on the ground and extracts something from the breast of his fringed hunting-shirt. it is nothing less than a crumpled and dirty piece of paper, oblong in shape, and containing what is evidently a plan of some sort, rudely drawn, and undecipherable without the aid of a few words equally rudely written and misspelt, clearly the work of some unlettered person. "_forkt pine, red peak, blarsted tree, the creek where half-buried rock_!" "the plot thickens," murmurs the investigator excitedly, conning over the laconic cipher. "having established the relationship between the forked pine and ma-i-pah, otherwise the red peak, the next thing is to discover the blasted tree, which should not be difficult, unless the term represents obloquy rather than the effects of lightning. that done, the rest will be easy." a few steps further into the brake. suddenly the blood surges into his face. something white and ghostlike glints athwart the gloom. a huge pine, dead, and stripped of all its lower bark, clearly by several successive strokes of lightning. this can be no other than the "blasted tree" of the cipher. almost trembling with excitement, once more he unfolds the dirty sheet of paper and eagerly scans it. "hands up, stranger! hands up! or you're a stiff 'un, by god!" the harsh, threatening voice, cleaving the twilight solitude, where a moment before vipan had imagined himself absolutely alone, was enough to unnerve a less resolute hearer. it proceeded from a tall, sinister-looking man, who standing on a ridge or bank some five-and-twenty yards off, and slightly above him, had him covered with a rifle-barrel. there was no disputing the grim mandate. the other held him at a complete disadvantage. any hesitation to comply would mean a bullet through his heart that instant. but while holding both hands high above his head, his eyes were keenly on the look-out for the smallest chance. "i don't seem to have the pleasure of your acquaintance, friend," he answered coolly. what a fool he was to have parted company with his winchester, he thought. "you don't?" yelled the man, amid a volley of curses. "you soon will, though, i reckon, you pesky-white injun. i'll learn you to set the red devils on to scalp and knife my pardners. now, you jest throw down that hunk of paper, slicker nor greased lightning--mind me." the tone was so fierce and threatening that there was no room for delay. no man living was more keenly competent to realise the situation than he who had now the worst of it. "all right," he answered. "i'm standing on it. you'll see it when i move my foot." "don't move a hair else then, or you're a stiff," was the grim uncompromising reply. "now," went on the fellow, having assured himself that the paper was there, "take six steps backward--six and no more. quick march!" with the deadly rifle-barrel still covering his heart, vipan obeyed. "well! what's the next thing?" he said, and at the same time he noticed that the other carried a lariat rope dangling in loose coils from his left arm. "the next thing, eh?" jeered the fierce aggressor. "i and some of the boys have kept our eye upon you for a good while, and the next thing is we're going to lynch you. now--turn round!" the man in his eagerness had made a step forward, with the result that, the little ridge of ground whereon he was standing being slippery with the frost, he missed his footing, stumbled, staggered wildly in his efforts to recover his balance, and finally rolled headlong almost at vipan's feet. crack! the aggressor lay writhing in his death-throes. all this time warily on the look-out for the smallest chance in his favour, vipan, quick as thought, had whipped out the little derringer which he carried in his breast-pocket, and sent a bullet through his adversary's brain. "i think i've turned the tables on you with effect, my hearty," he said, contemplating the dead man with a savage sneer. now that there was no further necessity for coolness, his blood boiled at the recent humiliation this fellow had made him undergo. "ha, ha! go and tell your two precious `pardners' what a sorry hash you made of it on their account, you miserable idiot, and bait a few more tartar traps down in the nethermost shades. ha, ha!" the first thing he did was to pick up and secure the sheet of paper. then he searched the dead man lest anything bearing upon the cipher might be in his possession, but without avail. he was about to leave the spot, when an idea struck him. for a moment he stood contemplating his late enemy. bending down, an expression of strong disgust in his face, he gripped the dead man by the hair--a couple of quick slashes, and the scalp was in his hand. then he drew his knife across the throat of the corpse. "the sioux--his mark," he muttered, with grim jocosity. "faugh! now to stow away this beastly thing," wiping the scalp upon its late proprietor's clothing. he removed the latter's weapons--rifle, revolver, knife--and keeping a sharp look-out against any further aggression, regained his horse. in mounting, he trod on something which crackled crisply. it was a dried and shrivelled knee-boot, from which the leg-bone still protruded. and his attention being once more attracted to these ghastly relics, it almost seemed to him that the two heads had changed their position, and were glaring at him with hideous and menacing scowl. the ravens, from a neighbouring tree, renewed their lugubrious croak, as if resentful at being so long kept away from their repulsive feast. overhead, the sky grew blacker and blacker, and the snowflakes whirled round the horseman as he emerged from the gloom of that grisly brake. "there's more carrion for you, you black devils," he muttered, apostrophising the ravens. "heavens! what had i to do with the brute's unwashen `pardners'? if i'm to be held answerable for the scalp of every idiot who goes to sleep with both eyes shut, i've got my work cut out for me. ha, ha! the red brother comes in mighty convenient sometimes." thus musing, he had gained the crossing of a mountain torrent, at the entrance to a long, narrow canon, whose sheer, overhanging walls were gloomy and forbidding, even by the light of day. dismounting, he took out the scalp, and wrapping it round a stone, hurled it away into a deep, swirling pool, whose centre was free from ice. the dead man's weapons followed suit. "there! pity to throw away good serviceable arms, but--`self-preservation, etc.' i only treated the dog as he would have treated me, but i don't want to establish a vendetta among his desperado mates with myself for its object. a lot the scoundrels care about such a plea as self-defence. no. let them credit the reds with the job." the rising gale shrieked wildly overhead, but within the black walls of the canon the wayfarer was entirely protected from its force. the snowflakes, large and fleecy, now fell thickly about him. and now there was exultation in place of the former anxiety in his glance as ever and anon he studied the dark and overcast sky. "better and better. nothing like snow for covering up a trail, and by the time it's open again there'll be not much left of yon carrion. up, satanta! we'll soon be home now." the black steed arched his splendid neck responsive to his master's voice. and his said master, muffling himself closer in his buffalo robe, settled himself down in his saddle with every confidence in the ability of one or other, or both of them, to keep the right trail, even through the pitchy blackness which was now descending upon them. the driving snow, the shrieking of the gale, the howling of wolves in the dark forest, the grisly sight left behind, the stain of blood, were nothing to him who rode there--on--on through the night. chapter twelve. "to quit." when vipan narrated the events of the last chapter to his friend and partner, the latter looked grave. "i know the chap you dropped," he said, "and he'll be no loss to this territory, nohow. he's one o' them desperate, hard-drinkin', cussin' bullies that a whole township--ay, and many a township 'll be only too glad to see laid. but then, you see, there are his mates to reckon with; bullies, all of 'em, like himself. i'm afraid if they light upon the trail we shall have some warm work along." "but they won't light on it, bill, thanks to this friendly blizzard. why, the snow'll be there for the next three months, but most, if not all, of my late friend won't. he'll be pretty evenly distributed among the wolves and crows by that time," was the grim reply. and the speaker kicked the logs into a blaze, and took a long pull at his whisky-horn. "besides," he added, "i took all precautions. if they do strike the trail, they'll credit the whole business to the red brother." the scout puffed earnestly at his pipe for some little while, his features in no wise relaxing their gravity. "see here, vipan," he said, at length; "that's one side of the affair i've been cudgelling over. most of the chaps located around have got a notion that you're too thick with the reds, and they're pretty mad. i've run against several of 'em, and have been hearin' some tall talk among 'em while you were away down there. now, the best thing we can do is to clear out our _caches_ [note ] as soon as the weather lifts, and git." "no, no, bill; that's not my line at all. it's no part of my idea to be choused out of the goose with the golden eggs just as i've brought that biped home, not to mention being obliged to sneak away from a lot of yapping curs, any one of whom i'm ready to meet, how, when, and where he chooses." and vipan's face was a picture of contemptuous resentment. "whatever they are, old pard, they can shoot--they can. i don't know what's to stand in the way of a straight volley just any time we hap to be on the move, even if not when we poke our noses out of our own door. but if your mind's set on stayin' on, i'll just dry up." the other's face softened. this staunch and loyal comrade of his was prepared, as a matter of course, to stand by him and equally share the peril in which the jealous resentment of the incensed miners placed or might place himself. "now, look here, old chum," he said, "i'll just tell you what sort of a prospecting i've made. i always maintained the upper bend of burntwood creek was worth tapping. it's my private opinion we've at last struck the real yellow, and if you don't think it worth following up after what i'm going to show you, why i'll fall in with your idea, and light out now for some where else. look at this," and he placed in his friend's hand the paper which he had taken from the pocket of one of the dead miners whom he had helped to bury. smokestack bill studied the plan thoughtfully for a few moments. "it's tarnation vague," he said at length: "`forkt pine, red peak, blarsted tree, and the creek where half-buried rock.' why, there's parks of forked pines, and as for the blasted tree it's like enough to be some stem against which one o' them chaps was squelched by his mule, and known only to them. and the creek's just chock full of half-buried rocks." "ha, ha, ha! bill, my boy, i've located them all--all but the half-buried rock, that is. the tree's a scathed pine all right, close to where the two fellows were scalped. i was just going to locate the creek part of the business, when that unhung skulker `jumped' me. you may just bet your bottom dollar we'll light upon something rich." "well, well, i'll see you through it," said the other in a tone as if he began to think there might be something in it. "but seems to me we shan't be much the better for a lot of gold even if we find it. you're bent on a rush to great britain, vipan, i can see that. well, my boy, if we light on a find, you can take the bigger half, and go and pay off old scores with the party that's tricked you. i've not much use for the stuff, i reckon." "bill, old friend, you're an extraordinary production of your day and species--a thoroughly unselfish specimen of humanity to wit. now, do you think it in the least likely that i should agree to any such arrangement? no, no; share and share alike is the motto between partners. if we make a good thing of it we'll take our jaunt together." "'m, p'raps. cities don't like me, and i don't like cities. if it were otherwise i should be jingling my tens of thousands of dollars to-day, instead of owning nought but a good rifle, a good horse, and a _cache_ full of pelts. there's mighty mean tricks done in cities, and those done in a lawyer's office ain't the least mean. my old dad was in that line, and though a good chap in other ways, i saw queer things done in that office of his. i couldn't stand it, and i couldn't stand the life, so i kicked over the stool and struck out west. i got blown up in a missouri steamboat first thing, and came down on a chunk of the smokestack into the mud on the nebraska side--leastways, that's what the boys declared, and that's why they call me smokestack bill, though i reckon i must have got astride of the smokestack while i was half drowning. and now my brother seth, who took kindly to lawyering, is the richest man in carson county." "but that you are thoroughly happy as a plainsman, bill, i should say you had made a mistake," answered vipan, in whom the other's story seemed to have touched a sympathetic chord. "otherwise the man who sacrifices wealth--beggars himself for a principle--is a consummate ass, and deserves all he condemns himself to; that is, a lifetime spent in regretting it," he added, with an unwonted bitterness. "but never mind that," resuming his normal tone. "when the snow melts we'll go down and prospect burntwood creek, and as it's unlucky--deuced unlucky--to discount one's successes beforehand, we'll just dismiss the subject out of hand until then. meanwhile, life being uncertain, we'll _cache_ the cipher in some snug place in case anything should happen to me." three months went by. all the rigours of winter had set in upon the black hills. everywhere the snow lay in an unbroken sheet, attaining in many places such prodigious depths as almost to bury the brakes and thickets of a shorter growth. the dark foliage of the great pines afforded some relief from the dazzling whiteness around, but even that was almost concealed by the huge masses of snow which had there effected lodgment. and here and there a mighty cliff of red sandstone stood forth from the surrounding snow, its face half draped with glistening icicles. but the weather was glorious, and the air as exhilarating as champagne. the peaks, shining like frosted silver, rearing their heads to the ever-cloudless blue--that marvellous combination of subtle shades of the richest azure, tempered with green, which is produced by contrast with a snow-enshrouded earth--the smooth face of each great precipice, frowning beneath its brow of dark and bristling pines; the muffled roar of the mountain torrent struggling for freedom, far down under its successively imprisoning layers of ice; the wild cry of bird or beast, even more at fault in the icebound rigours of its native waste than its artificial enemy, man--all this went to make up an engraving from the scenes of nature in her winter magnificence, in all her savage primeval beauty, in her unsurpassable and most stately grandeur. in the midst of it all our two friends were thoroughly comfortable. they trapped a good deal and hunted occasionally. many a valuable fur of silver fox and marten and beaver were added to their stores, and the thick coat of the great white wolf, and the tawny one of the cougar, or mountain lion. two grizzlies of gigantic size also bit the dust--the redoubted "old ephraim" standing no chance whatever before the rifles of two such dead shots--while deer, both black-tailed and red, unable to make much running in the deep snow, fell an easy prey. the entrance to their cabin was all but buried in snow, but within it was thoroughly warm and snug. here, before a blazing fire, they would lounge at night. stores of every kind were plentiful--flour, coffee, and sugar, whisky, warm furs, and abundance of tobacco--and surrounded by every creature comfort they would sit and smoke their long pipes, after a day of hard and healthful exercise, while the wind shrieked without, and all the voices of the weird wilderness were abroad, and the great mountains reverberated ever and anon the thunderous boom of some mighty mass of snow which, dislodged by the wind or its own weight, roared down the slopes, perchance to plunge with a crash over a huge cliff. now and then old shanks would lift his shaggy head and growl as the dismal yell of a cougar would be borne upon the night, but he was well-used to the sounds of the forest, and quickly subsided again. and the ghostly hooting of owls, and the shrill barking of foxes, in the dark pine forest mingled with the ravening howl of the wolves in ceaseless chorus from the frozen and wind-swept slopes. sometimes an indian, belated on his hunt, would take advantage of their hospitality, and on such occasions vipan would delight to "draw" his savage guest, with the result that the red-skinned warrior, replete with good cheer and good humour, would lie back on his furs, puffing out huge clouds of tobacco smoke, and narrate--with that absence of reserve which characterises the savage when so engaged--many a strange tale of love and war, and among them, here and there, an instance of such fiendish and ruthless atrocity as would have caused the ordinary listener's hair to stand on end with horror and repulsion, not swerving in the smallest degree from his smiling and good-humoured imperturbability during the narration. but vipan was wholly proof against any such ordinary weakness. the way to know indians, he said, was first to get them to talk, and then to let them talk. _he_ wanted to know indians thoroughly, and reckoned by this time he had about succeeded. so in him the red warrior found an attentive, not to say appreciative, listener. thus the months went by, and when the crocuses and soldanellas began to appear from beneath the melting snow, and the torrents and creeks ran red in the first spring freshets, an impatience, a feverish longing to be up and doing came upon vipan, rendering him moody, and at times irritable. but until the rivers should have run off the melted snows nothing could be done. in vain his comrade preached philosophy. "i judge you'll get no good by tearing your shirt, old pard," said the honest scout. "see here, now. did you ever set your heart on a single thing, that when you got it you wondered how the snakes you could ever have been so hot on gettin' it? no, you didn't. about this _placer_. maybe we shall find plenty of stuff--maybe little--maybe none at all. but whatever we find or don't find, it's no part of good sense to tear our shirts a' thinkin' of it." "no, it isn't," agreed the other. "but--`many a slip,' etc." "'m, yes. what's the odds, though? we can always light on fresh ground. and if the reds go on the war-path soon as the grass grows, it'd do us both good to get a scouting berth with the command for a spell." vipan's forebodings were destined to be realised. a few mornings later the two occupants of the winter cabin were awakened by the trampling of many hoofs. with their minds full of the threats of those around them, both seized their rifles and stood ready for any emergency. but with no body of jealous and exasperated miners had they now to deal. cautiously peering forth, their gaze fell upon the trappings and accoutrements of a cavalry patrol. a furious curse escaped vipan's lips. his plans were ruined. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . a _cache_ is a sort of underground storeroom or place of concealment--generally jar-shaped--wherein peltries and other goods are deposited, pending their convenient removal. chapter thirteen. henniker city. henniker city was a typical prairie township in no wise bearing out the imposing idea which its name might convey. it might have contained some five score dwellings, mainly of the log-hut order; a few frame houses, with real glazed windows figuring as the aristocratic and advanced representatives of civilised architecture among the more primitive structures. it boasted a brace of churches, one of which, only occasionally used, having been reared through the efforts of a travelling priest attached to the nearest catholic mission, the other representing no creed in particular, though chiefly resorted to by what our friend smokestack bill was wont to define as "the pizenest kind of hard-shell baptists," a definition we should be loth to attempt to elucidate. it boasted more stores than churches, and more drinking saloons than stores. it contained a bank, whose manager reckoned handiness at drawing, and, if necessary, using, the six-shooter at least as essential a qualification for his clerks as the footing up of figures. it boasted a sheriff, whose three predecessors had "died in their boots" within less than the same number of years. and for population, fixed and floating, it mainly comprised about as daredevil, swash-bucklering, unscrupulous a set of cut throats, as ever shot a winning adversary at euchre or "held up" [from "hold up your hands"--the "road agent's" warning] the pony express. such was the place to which our two friends were moved by the detachment of troops which had so suddenly and unwelcomely invaded their mountain retreat. a shout of mingled mirth, derision, and resentment went up in the township at this fresh evidence of the high-handedness of uncle sam, and in a trice the whole population crowded around the prisoners and their escort. "hello, pard!" sung out a slouching-looking fellow in a frowsy shirt and cabbage-tree hat, addressing vipan. "don't be down on your luck, now. when the colonel here's fightin' the sioux, we're the boys to slide back and pouch the stuff. hey!" "say, colonel! going after sittin' bull soon?" sung out another, to the officer in command of the cavalry. "'cause smokestack bill's the boy to raise a mob of scouts for yer, and we're the boys to jine." "not till you put a hunk of lead through yon cussed white injun, i reckon," growled a forbidding ruffian, on the outskirts of the crowd, with a scowl at vipan. "snakes! wasn't he with the injun as scalped rufus charlie and pesky bob?" said another, taking up the suggestion. and then a knot of men, gathered in conclave, eyed the object of the discussion in a manner that boded no good. meanwhile the crowd, surging round the new arrivals, continued to pour forth banter and queries. "got the `dust' about yer, strangers, or did yer _cache_ it?" "say, pardners, whar did yer leave yer squaws? or did uncle sam confiscate 'em as national property? ho, ho!" "see here, boys, am i sheriff of henniker city, or am i not?" drawled a cool, deliberate voice, as the chaff reached its height. "'cause if i am, jest clear a way; and if i'm not, i reckon i'd like to cotch a glimpse of the galoot as says so." a shout of mirth greeted this speech, and speedily a lane was opened through the crowd, down which advanced a tall, spare man. this worthy's sallow visage was adorned with a grizzled beard of the "door-knocker" order, above which protruded a half-chewed cigar, a pair of whimsical grey eyes, and a determined mouth. in his hand he carried a winchester rifle, and the inevitable six-shooter peeped forth from his hip-pocket. "how do, colonel? brought me some more citizens, hey? smokestack bill, as i'm a miserable sinner! that your pard, bill? all right, come this way. citizens of henniker, the high court is about to sit." without more ado, the two "prisoners" and their custodian, resuming the thread of their previous conversation, followed the whimsical sheriff into the courthouse, as many as could crowding in until the room was full, laughing, chatting, bantering each other; kicking up an indescribable uproar. at last, raising his voice above the shindy, the whimsical sheriff succeeded in obtaining something like silence. "citizens!" he said, "we must proceed with the business which has brought us together. the prisoners at the bar having been handed over to me to be dealt with according to law--that is, kept in custody until able to take their trial for 'truding on indian lands--cannot be so kept because the gaol with which this city is supplied would not hold a clerk of a dry goods store, let alone a couple of indian fighters. that being so, the prisoners may consider themselves under bail to the tune of fifty dollars apiece, to appear when wanted; snakes, and that'll be never," he parenthesised, in an undertone. "citizens, the court is adjourned--and now disperse--git--vamoose the ranch. those who are not too drunk will go home peaceably, those who are, will adjourn to murphy's saloon and get drunker. prisoners at the bar, you will accompany me right along and take supper. i have spoken." if any confiding reader imagines that when night settled down upon henniker city the wearied denizens of that historic township retired to their welcome couches to recruit their toil-worn limbs in sweet and well-earned repose--why we are sorry to dispel the illusion. but in the interests of stern truth we must place it upon record that the hours of darkness usually witnessed the liveliest of scenes, for it was only then that the township began to live. the saloons drove literally a roaring trade, for the shindy that went on in them as the night wore on, and their _habitues_ waxed livelier, was something indescribable. miners in their rough shirts and cabbage-tree hats, here and there a leather-clad trapper, cowboys and ranchmen in beaded frocks and indian leggings, and more or less "on the burst," but all talking at a great rate; all tossing for, or shouting for, or consuming drinks, and, we regret to say, a large proportion somewhat the worse for the latter. now and then a chorus of ear-splitting whoops, a clatter of hoofs down the street, to an accompaniment of pistol-shots, while the red flashes and whistling of balls in the darkness, warning those who might be under cover not to venture forth just yet, told that a group of cowboys were engaged on the time-honoured and highly popular pastime known among their craft as "painting the town red," _i.e._, galloping through the streets whooping and discharging their six-shooters at everything or nothing. but this was far too ordinary an occurrence to attract any attention. it all meant nothing. here and there, however, it did mean something. partitioned off from the bar-room was the space devoted to card-playing, and it might be that from here the ominous sound of cards vehemently banged down with a savage curse upon the table warned those who heard it to stand clear. in a twinkling the flash and crack of pistol-shots-- then a lull, and amid inquiries from many voices, eager, hurried, perhaps in a lowered tone, a dead man is raised and deposited on a table or carried forth to his home if he have one. "who is it?" "how did it happen?" "was it a fair draw?" "oh yes, both blazed together!" "all right--fair and square enough!" and the other players resume their gamble, and the talkers their narratives, and more drinks are ordered, and nothing further is thought of the affair. at that time henniker city was blessed--or the reverse--with a considerable influx on its normal population. grouped around the outskirts of the town lay the tents of many of the dispossessed miners-- who, like our two friends, had been removed from the indian lands. all these men were more or less discontented; and suffering in addition from enforced idleness, it follows that monotony and drink rendered them ripe for any mischief which might suggest itself. moreover, among their ranks was a sprinkling of the very scum of the frontier--horse thieves, "road agents" or highwaymen, professional assassins, and bullies of repute whose presence here was due to the fact that they had rendered every other state too hot to hold them, and where, did they venture to return, they would be lynched without fail, if not shot on sight. into one of these tents we must invite the reader to peep with us. look at those two knights of the hang-dog countenance. he who is now speaking would stand not a chance before any intelligent jury, if only on account of his aspect alone. by the dim oil-lamp in the tent we can make out two other forms lying around, but the cloud of tobacco smoke, added to the dimness aforesaid, precludes a more familiar study of their not less forbidding features. "see now, dan," hang-dog number one was saying. "may i be chopped in splinters by the reds if i allow this darned white injun to get away out o' this without a carcase full o' lead. so we'd better go up and finish the job to-night." "can't be done, i reckon. what about his pard--eh? to say nothin' about nat hardroper, who seems to have kinder taken him up!" "darn his pard, and darn nat hardroper!" replied the other, furiously. "only a set of doggoned skunks 'ud have elected nat hardroper sheriff, and only a set of white-livered coons 'ud have kep' him in the berth. i guess i don't fear him." "see here, rube," suggested the other, "why not tumble to my plan? he'll be going to red cloud's village in a day or two--see if he don't. then we can ambush him at bald eagle forks and plant him full of lead." "don't want that. want to string him up. shooting's too good. didn't he set the red devils on to sculp my pardners? didn't he wipe out my brother? leastways, he must have, for i reckon chinee-knifer abe ain't the boy to be taken playin' possum. ef it hadn't bin for a squad of his reds, we'd have strung him up down in burntwood creek the day before the snow." "guess our scalps sat loose that day. snakes! but they ran us hard," answered the fellow addressed as dan. "this vipan 'd have been buzzard-meat then but for that." "reckon he shall be to-night," furiously retorted the first speaker. "i've said it--and bitter rube ain't the boy to go back on his word. that blanked white injun, helpin' to dance around my pardners' sculps!" and a volley of curses drowned the speaker's utterance. chapter fourteen. in a tight place. "stranger--i guess i want this floor!" the place, an inner room partitioned off from murphy's saloon; the time, late evening; the speaker a tall, half-drunken ruffian in frowsy miner's dress; the spoken to, vipan--who, lounging against a table was chatting with the saloon-keeper; the tone, insolent and threatening to the last degree; the attitude, that of a man sure of his advantage. "stranger--i guess i want this floor!" "and i guess you've got it," came the quick reply, but not more quickly than the change of attitude which it described. for, in a twinkling, a straight "right and left" from the shoulder had sent the aggressor to earth like a felled ox, while his pistol-bullet buried itself in the wall half a yard above vipan's head. then ensued a stupendous hubbub. pistols cracked, as the stricken man's mates in the outer room hurled themselves at the partition door intent on taking up their comrade's quarrel. but the door, a solid slab one, met them in full career, pinning the foremost of their number half in, half out. "now, dan harper, back's the word!" said the quiet, but stern voice of smokestack bill, to whose promptitude was due this first check to the enemy. "you move a little inch forward and you're a stiff, you bet." "leggo the darn door, then--f-fixed t-tight," gasped the pinned one, who, with the muzzle of the scout's six-shooter within an inch of his nose, would willingly have obeyed, but could not. smokestack bill, however, relaxing his pressure, the crushed one was able to draw back, considerably bruised, into the outer room, and the door was jammed to, but not before a couple of bullets fired into the room had narrowly grazed vipan's shoulder. "now then, boys," called out the scout. "anyone feel like trying an entrance? better not, believe me." all this had befallen within infinitely fewer minutes than it takes to chronicle. the felled bully lay prone where he had first dropped, stunned, insensible, and motionless--and disarmed, for the first act of his adversary was to put it out of his power to get the advantage of them. the room, half filled with stifling smoke from the pistol-shots; the barricaded door, against which the besieged ones had run up a couple of casks; the two determined men, fully prepared to defend themselves at the expense of any number of their adversaries' lives; the fierce, threatening summons to yield entrance from the infuriated gang without; all went to make up a strange and startling metamorphosis on the hitherto quiet evening, which the two men had reckoned upon when they retired into the private room of the saloon-keeper to be clear of any disturbance. "air you agoin' to open?" sung out a harsh voice, at the close of a muttered consultation. "we know you, smokestack bill, and we've nothin' again you. but that pizen skunk, the white injun, we're bound to have him if we burn down the old log to do it. so you come out of it, bill, right along, while you can." "you be advised, dan harper," cried the scout in reply. "you're a dead man this very night if you don't git--mind me." "so are a dozen of you, by god!" sung out vipan. he knew the whole business was a deliberate plan to take his life. the ruffian whom he had felled was to pick a quarrel and shoot him on sight, while his scoundrelly mates stood ready to make sure of him if the first part of the scheme miscarried. a roar went up from the crowd. "let's get at him! what'll we do with him, boys?" "tar and feather him!" "burn him at the stake!" "scalp him!" "string him up!" were some of the yells that burst from the maddened throng as it surged round the building, narrowly scanning every door and window for a chance of forcing an entrance. but the defenders of the inner room knew better than to be caught that way. "one minute before you begin any tricks," cried the scout, and his voice had the dangerous ring about it of that of an ordinarily cool and quiet man roused at last. "one minute, and just listen to me. we've molested nobody, and don't want to molest nobody. bitter rube in here picked a quarrel with my pardner and got knocked down. if he'd done it with any of you boys he'd have been shot dead. he'll be shot before anyone gets in here--" "darn bitter rube! serve the bunglin' fool right! what do we care about bitter rube? it's the pizen white injun we're going to lynch--and lynch him we will--by god!" "try it!" rejoined the scout. "there'll be a few of you dead in your boots before mornin', i reckon. and anyone who thinks smokestack bill the boy to go back on a pardner is makin' an almighty big error in the undertaking. so now, stand clear for squalls." a roar and a yell was the only reply. a deafening crash, as some of the rioters in the outer saloon vented their rage in smashing all the glass they could lay hands on; then a shock, as the end of a beam, wielded as a battering ram, came full against the door. a couple of flashes and reports, mingling like a single one. the beam fell to the earth at the same time as three of its bearers, whom the fire of the besieged, discharged through a chink at such close quarters, had literally raked in line. the remainder promptly got out of the way. "put in the faggot. don't give any of the skunks a further show," yelled the frantic mob, exasperated by this reverse. and a rush was made for the further end of the building. chapter fifteen. judge lynch takes a back seat. it is not wonderful, all things considered, that the citizens of henniker, together with its fortuitous and floating population, should have been moved to such lengths as to resolve upon lynching vipan. indeed, it would have been surprising had matters turned out otherwise. here was a man they very much more than suspected of being in league with their barbarous and dreaded foes, at a time when the frontier was almost in a state of war. a man of known daring and unscrupulousness, and whom they knew to have been present--the only white man--at an important council, involving issues of peace or war; to have taken part in its deliberations, going even so far as to advise the chiefs, and that, if report were to be believed, by no means in the direction of peaceful results. several of their friends and neighbours had been murdered and scalped, those who had escaped a similar fate being obliged to carry on their mining or other operations rifle in hand, even if not forced to quit altogether. meanwhile, this man, it was well known, could move about the country perfectly unmolested, visiting the indian encampments at will--indeed, in one instance he was known to have witnessed a scalp-dance, wherein the prime attraction of the entertainment lay in the exhibition of the scalps recently torn from the heads of two of their murdered comrades. and then he was an alien, which was the crowning point of the whole offence; and the good citizens of henniker were virtuously stirred that a foreigner--an englishman--should, while dwelling on their free and sacred soil, presume to be on friendly terms with its dispossessed and original owners; even as here and there in great britain may still be found a misguided and hard-headed tory moved to honest indignation at the prospect of fenians and invincibles and national leaguers stirred up to dynamite and murder by irish-american agents and american dollars. but how came it that so much should be known of vipan's movements, seeing that he himself was almost the only white man who could safely penetrate the semi-hostile country or venture among the roving bands who even then were raiding and murdering at their own sweet will? well, human nature is rather alike all the world over. gossip on that wild western frontier was circulated through very much the same channels as, say, at lant with lant-hanger in the county of brackenshire--through the agency of the squaws to wit. some of the miners owned red spouses, others, again, were not above open admiration for the savage beauties-- and, presto!--sooner or later the gossip of the indian villages leaked out. peering through the chinks, the besieged could descry a sea of threatening faces, savagely hideous in the red torchlight. prominent among these was a man who held a noosed cord. hither and thither he moved, stirring up the crowd, his sinister features distorted with malicious rage. hatred, envy, disappointed greed, all were depicted there, as with blood-curdling threats the mob clamoured for the object of its resentment. suddenly a clatter of approaching hoofs became audible alike to besiegers and besieged. the crowd paused aghast, the first thought being that of an indian attack. then a score of horsemen darted into the light, and a ringing voice was heard inquiring-- "say, boys, what in thunder's all this muss?" "that's the sheriff," said smokestack bill, coolly, lowering his revolver. "we're out of this fix, anyhow." a roar was the answer. "the white injun! the pizen white injun! we're going to lynch him." "i guess not," was the reply. "not while nat hardroper's sheriff of henniker city. when it comes to reckoning with that invaluable officer, judge lynch'll have to take a back seat. eh, boys?" turning to his well-armed followers, a score of cowboys and well-disposed citizens, whom he had prudently collected in haste on receiving the first intimation of a riot. "that's so, sheriff," was the prompt reply. "say, dan harper," called out the sheriff, "judge lynch's sittin' in the state you've just left. why not go and talk to him there?" the face of the fellow named blanched at this allusion. meanwhile the crowd, composed mainly as it was of ruffians and bullies, began to show a disposition to slink off, in the presence of these well-armed and determined representatives of law and order. "never mind, boys," shouted someone. "we'll plant him full of lead yet. now let's git." "how do, sheriff?" said the scout, calmly stepping forth with extended hand. "guess you've raised the siege on us right slick in the nick of time." "how do, bill? how do, colonel?" to vipan. "now you come right along to my log and we'll talk." "hold hard, friends," objected vipan. "we've got to drink first. murphy, bring out the juice." "whurroo, sheriff darlint," chuckled the saloon-keeper. "whurroo! but it's purty shootin' there's bin around here afure you came. be jabers! and thur'll be a big inquist to-morrow, and the power of the `crame' 'll be on hand for the jewry, i reckon. bedad! and whur's that shuck-faced omadhaun?" he added, gazing at the corner. for bitter rube, having recovered his confused senses, had profited by the confusion to steal away unperceived. "now, boys, mind me," said nat hardroper to vipan and the scout, after a substantial supper a few hours later. "this same henniker city's a powerful survigerous place. i've got you out of one fix, but i can't go on getting you out of fixes. it's too big a contract on one man's hands, i want you to see. now, a power of those chirruping roarers'll be on your trail first thing you show your noses out of this shebang. if i warn't sheriff this'd be my advice--to take your hosses this very night and git. but it ain't my advice, because, you see, i _am_ sheriff, and you're under my charge. no, no; it ain't my advice." save for the faintest possible wink, he looked them straight in the face, as solemn as an owl. vipan burst into a roar of laughter. "right you are, nat. it's not your advice--we'll remember that." "well, good-night, boys; good-night." they shook hands heartily. but our two friends did not go to bed; they went to the stable. by daybreak they had put a considerable number of miles between henniker city and themselves. chapter sixteen. a conjugal debate and its sequel. with all his failings, the rev. dudley vallance had one redeeming point--he was excessively fond of his children; but it is probable that he loved his only son more than all the rest put together. to him he could refuse nothing. indeed, so loth was he to part with him even for a time that he could not bring himself to allow geoffry to enter any profession. he must remain at home. there was no need for him to earn his living, since he would one day succeed to the lant property, and meanwhile he could be learning to look after it. fortunately, geoffry was something of a bookworm, and studious of temperament, or the bringing-up he had received, and the aimless life which it entailed upon him, would have sent the boy straight to the dogs. as it was, he was cut out by nature for a college don rather than for a country squire, and during his university career he was known essentially as a reading man. it may be imagined, then, that when he returned home at the end of the summer term, after taking a brilliant double first, the pride and delight of his reverend parent knew no bounds, and by a series of festivities, unparalleled since the distinguished youth's coming of age, was lant-hanger at large, and particularly its "county society," bidden to share the parental joy. but, alas! that the latter should be so short-lived. the object of all this fun and frolic seemed in no way to relish it at all. instead of returning home cheerful, overflowing with spirits, thoroughly enjoying life with the zest of the average young englishman who has just scored a signal success, and sees a congenial and rose-bestrewn future before him, poor geoffry seemed to have parted with all capacity for enjoyment. he was pale and listless, absent, bored, and--shall we own it?--at times excessively irritable, not to say peevish. his father was deeply concerned, and his mother, who read off the symptoms as briefly as the village doctor would diagnose a case of incipient scarlet fever, felt more of anger than concern. "i really don't know what to do about the boy," said the rev. dudley, dejectedly, coming into his wife's morning-room the day after the last of their house party had dispersed. "it's dreadful to see the poor fellow in such low spirits. he must have been working too hard, whatever he may say to the contrary. it's hard to part with him so soon, the dear fellow, but we positively must send him abroad to travel for the summer. nothing like travel." "try him, and see if he'll go," was the short reply. "we must insist upon it. we must get medical advice--a doctor's opinion to back us up. the boy will be ill--ill, mark me. he eats nothing. he doesn't sleep, for i hear him moving in his rooms far into the small hours. he looks pale and pulled down, and doesn't even care for his books. then, when all the people were here, he would steal away from everybody, and wander about and mope by himself all day. we had some nice people, too; and pleasant, good-looking girls. come, hadn't we?" "oh, yes; a most complete party. only one ingredient left out." "and that?" "yseulte santorex." and mrs vallance shut down the envelope she was closing with a vicious bang. "god bless my soul! you don't say so? surely it hasn't gone so far as that?" "it has gone just as far as that abominable girl could carry it," was the uncompromising reply. "surely you are not simple enough to imagine that the daughter of that hybrid spanish atheist would neglect such an opportunity? the girl has simply made a fool of him." "you dislike her to that extent?" said mr vallance, vacantly, his mind full of the woeful plight into which his son was plunged. "i don't know. sometimes i think her not a bad sort of girl considering the fallow in which her mind has been allowed to lie. and geoffry might do worse." "oh, yes. he might, but not much. a forward, bold, masculine minx, tramping the countryside, fishing and shooting. and she is utterly devoid of respect for her elders, and as for principle or religion-- faugh! i beg leave to think, dudley, that he hardly could do worse." this spitefulness on the lady's part was not wholly devoid of excuse. for her elders, as represented by mrs dudley vallance, yseulte certainly had scant respect. and then, if she became their son's wife, the day might come when mrs vallance would have to abdicate lant hall in her favour, whereas no such calamity could in the nature of things ever befall its reverend squire. of course geoffry must marry somebody or other one day; but geoffry's mother could contemplate such a contingency with far more equanimity than that of being dispossessed by a girl whom she detested, and whom she knew despised her. "well, well! we won't say that; we won't say quite that," rejoined mr vallance. "perhaps you are a little hard on poor yseulte. she is young, remember, and at a thoughtless age. but she is thoroughbred in the matter of birth, and will be well off. we must not expect everything at once. and the girl is very pretty, with all her faults. i am not surprised at geoffry's infatuation." "no more am i," was the short reply. "oh, but you must look at a question of this kind apart from prejudice. and then i can't bear to see poor geoffry simply eating his heart out like this. i am becoming seriously alarmed about him; and i tell you what it is, my dear, as he really has staked his happiness on this girl, he shall have her. i'll see santorex about it this very day." "oh, well, if you have quite made up your mind, the sooner you do so the better," answered his spouse, resignedly. "very well, then, that's settled," said the rev. dudley, with a sigh of relief. there was just one thing they forgot, this worthy couple, namely, that before settling a matter of the kind so comfortably and out of hand, it might be necessary to obtain the concurrence of the party most concerned, to wit yseulte santorex herself. but that yseulte might unhesitatingly decline the honour of the projected alliance never occurred to them for one moment, and any suggestion of the bare idea of such a contingency would have thrown them into a state of wild amazement. during the above debate, the subject thereof was doing exactly as his father had said; wandering about by himself--and moping. strolling down the cool mossy lane, shaded between its high nut-hedges, he found himself upon the river-bank. it was time to go home. they would be wondering what had become of him; perhaps sending everywhere in search of him. in his then morbid frame of mind, geoffry shrank from being made a fuss over. mechanically he turned to retrace his steps. "great events from little causes spring." the little cause in this instance was a little flock of sheep, which a farmer's lad, aided by his faithful collie, was driving into the lane from an adjacent field. the animals were kicking up a good deal of dust; geoffry was no fonder of walking in a cloud of dust than most people. the lane was narrow, and sheep are essentially idiotic creatures; were he to try and pass these, they would, instead of making room for him, inevitably scamper on ahead as fast as their legs could carry them, thereby kicking up about ten times more dust. that decided him. he would extend his walk. over a rail, an unexpected flounder into a dry ditch, and he stood up to his neck in brambles and nettles. but the sting of the latter was hardly felt; for his eyes fell upon an object which set his knees trembling and his heart going like a hammer. a moment earlier and he would have missed the phenomenon which evoked this agitation, but for the sheep. what was it? only a broad-brimmed straw hat, and beneath it a great knot of dark brown hair rippling into gold. it needed not this, nor the supple figure in its cool light dress which became visible, as with an effort poor geoffry staggered up from his thorny hiding-place, to reveal the identity of this new feature of the situation. she was standing with her back towards him, about fifty yards away, taking a fishing-rod to pieces, and she was alone. at the tearing and rustling noise caused by his efforts to free himself from the clinging brambles, she turned quickly, the half-startled look upon her features giving way to a wholly amused one as she took in the situation. geoffry, noting it, felt savage, reckless, mad with himself and all the world. could he never appear before her but in a ridiculous light--the central figure of some absurd situation? "why, mr vallance, you seem to have fallen among thorns," she cried, adding, with a merry laugh, "and the thorns have sprung up and choked you. but never mind. sit down and rest here in the shade, while i do up my tackle, and then we can walk home together as far as our ways lie." the tone was kind and sympathetic, and geoffry felt soothed. red and perspiring, he cast himself down with a grateful sigh upon a mossy bank, in the shadow of the great oak beneath which she was standing. "that'll be some consolation," he replied ruefully. "it was nothing, though--the tumble, i mean. i must have caught my foot in something, and came a cropper. but, it was well worth while." yseulte smiled, trying hard not to render the smile a mischievous one. "well, you're the best judge of that. and now, have all your visitors left?" "yes, and a good job too," was the fervent reply. "how ungrateful! i'm sure they did their best to make themselves agreeable, especially to you. confess; you are dreadfully bored now that they are gone." "not in the very least. _you_ are here--and--and--" he broke off, helpless and stuttering. "but i shall not be much longer. i am going away too." he sprung to his feet as if he had been stung. "what? you are going away? when?" "very soon. in a week or ten days; perhaps not quite so soon." already she wished she had not told him. it would have been better, for every reason, that he should have heard the news at second hand. "in a week or ten days!" he echoed. "but not for long--yseulte, say it will not be for long!" if at times the girl had been guilty of a touch of feminine spitefulness in the reflection that she had completely subjugated--and through no artful intent--the hope of this family whom, not without reason, she detested, assuredly she felt sorry and ashamed of it now, as she noted the pitiable effect which her announcement produced upon her admirer. his face was as pale as death. "but what if it will be for long?" she answered, gently. "for months, perhaps--or a year." "then i'll go and hang myself." poor geoffry! for weeks--for months--he had been anticipating such a moment as this; had revolved every kind of set speech; every form of the most moving entreaty; every promise to devote his life to her happiness and welfare; all in the most impassioned language that the earnestness of his love could suggest: and had shivered with apprehension lest his nervousness and misgiving should intervene to mar the effect and leave him stuttering and looking an ass; yet now that the critical moment had come, all his carefully-planned oratory had resolved itself into the brusque, passionate statement--"then i'll go and hang myself." yet never was declaration more exhaustive. she understood his meaning; she did not wish him to say more; and her tone was very gentle, very pitiful, as she replied: "be a man." the utterly wretched expression upon his face, showed that he had understood her. never was proposal more terse; never refusal more prompt and decisive. it was impossible for each to misunderstand the other. "have i no chance, yseulte?" he said, the eager trepidation of his former tone having given way to one of dull hopelessness, which moved her infinitely. "no," she answered, gently. "it would be cruel to leave you in any doubt. there are many reasons against it--insuperable reasons." "oh, what are they? tell me what they are," he cried, relapsing into his former tone. "they can be removed--there is nothing i will not do, or give up, for you. what are they? you don't like my people, i know; but you have always been kind and friendly with me. surely my relations need not stand in the way?" "you must not ask me for reasons, geoffry. let us talk over this rationally. if i cared for you as you wish, nothing should stand in the way. but as i do not, even you would not thank me for coming between yourself and those who do. only think what a firebrand i should be." "no, you would not. i tell you there is nothing i would not do for you--or would not give up for you. only just try me." what complication-loving fiend should have brought to her recollection then the vision of that pictured face which had made such an impression upon her--the face of the disinherited heir of lant hall? the leaven of her father's cynical philosophy almost moved her to experiment on this _corpus vili_ ready to her hand, and ascertain whether his protestations would go the length of espousing her ideas of right and wrong as regarded that particular subject. but she restrained herself in time. very dejectedly and in silence he walked beside her as far as their ways lay together. he would fain have reopened his pleadings, but with a hurried farewell she left him before he could detain her. "well, chickie? been having it out with geoffry plantagenet?" said her father, who, from his library window, had witnessed their parting at the divergence of the roads. "yes; that's just what i have been doing. and--i think, dear, we oughtn't to laugh at poor geoffry quite so much." "oh, that's how the land lies, is it?" answered mr santorex, struck by the unwonted gravity which she had brought to bear upon the subject. "all right, we won't. not that _we_ shall have much longer to laugh at anyone," he added somewhat ruefully. chapter seventeen. war wolf is "wanted." "say, vipan. guess we'd better draw off out o' this for a bit. there's no call for us to help do police work just now, and we can't stand looking on. there'll be hair-lifting here in a minute, i reckon." thus smokestack bill to his friend and boon companion as the two lounged on the turf, a hundred yards or so from the trading store attached to the blue pipestone agency. the place was alive with indians, gathered there for the purpose of drawing the rations with which a paternal government supplied them, contingent on their good behaviour and in consideration of their peaceably abiding on their reservation and eschewing the fiery delights of the war-path. so uncle sam's red nephews occupied the ground in crowds, indulging in much jollification on the strength of newly-acquired beef and flour and other commodities which should refresh and comfort both the inner and the outer man, and while the squaws were busily packing these upon their much-enduring ponies, their lords were lounging about, chatting, smoking, merry-making, and having a good time generally. meanwhile, the trading post had been doing a brisk business. "police work, eh?" returned vipan, with a glance at the detachment of u.s. cavalry, which, encamped in the neighbourhood of the store, showed no sign that any serious undertaking was in contemplation. "who are they after nobbling?" "see here, old pard--if i didn't know you well enough to stake my life you'd never go back on a pardner, you and i wouldn't be here together to-day. if they can't claw hold of their man, it mustn't be through any meddlin' of ours." "who is it they want?" "war wolf." "the devil they do! they gave out a different story." "that's so. joe ballin, who's with them, 's an old pard of mine. we've done many a scout together in ' and ' . well, he told me all about it. this command is out after no less a chap than war wolf. you see the pizen young skunk has been braggin' all over the section how he scalped rufus charley and pesky bob, them two fellers we buried down by burntwood creek. it's got to the general's ears, and now they've come to take him over to fort price. they've given out a lie that they're bound down the river on the trail of a minneconjou who ran off a lot of government beef last month, but that's just a red herring. as sure as war wolf comes along, they'll grab him--mind me." vipan meditatively blew out circles of smoke into the air, without replying. this was a most untoward _contretemps_. he remembered the scalp-dance which he had witnessed; the two scalps--including the red-haired one--which war wolf had so boastfully brandished during that barbarian orgie, and it flashed across him vividly now that, were the indian arrested for the deed, the bulk of his clansmen and the sioux at large would look upon himself as having betrayed their compatriot into the enemy's hand, or would for their own purposes affect to. here were the troops, and he, vipan, on good terms and hob-nobbing with their leaders. the capture--if it took place--would be to himself most disastrous. it was characteristic of the man that he lost sight of the grave peril in which he himself would be placed, alone here in the midst of hundreds of exasperated savages. his plans of future enrichment would be utterly broken up, and it was of this he was thinking. unscrupulous, self-seeking as he was, vipan had his own code of honour, and he would no more have dreamed of betraying his friend's confidence than of cutting his friend's throat. but had the information reached him through any other channel, it is more than doubtful whether uncle sam's cavalry would have effected their capture that day. "you're right, bill," he said, at length. "there'll be an almighty rumpus if that game's tried on. why, there are enough reds here to chaw up this command twice over, and they'll do it, too, i'll bet a hat. why the devil did they send out so few men?" "well, what d'you say? hadn't we better git?" "not this child. you see, if we make tracks, and war wolf gets grabbed, the reds'll certainly think i gave him away. he's an infernal young skunk, and i'd gladly see him hung; still, it nohow suits my book that he should be just now. so i'll see it out, but if you'd rather be outside it, don't stay. we can rendezvous anywhere you like afterwards." "oh, well; it's no great matter. i don't care if i stay," answered the scout, with his usual imperturbability. "here's a big burst of rain coming. we'd better get inside the store, anyhow." great drops began to plash around them; there was a steely gleam, followed by a long, muttering roll of distant thunder. as they made their way towards the log-house, the indians were breaking up into groups of twos and threes, and hurrying away in the direction of a cluster of _teepes_ erected hard by. failing any necessity for it, they were no more inclined for a ducking than most people. the cavalrymen, beyond taking precautions for keeping their arms and ammunition dry, seemed indifferent to the weather. "hello, smokestack bill!" cried a hearty voice, as they entered. "so that's how nat hardroper custodies his state prisoners, eh?" they recognised in the speaker the officer who had arrested them in the black hills. with him was joe ballin, the scout above referred to. vipan, especially, further noticed a sergeant and a dozen men posted, apparently by accident, within the room. "lord, colonel," replied the scout, "you don't want us to foot the henniker trail again?" "not i," said the other, with a laugh. "other game afoot this journey." then at vipan's suggestion, drinks were dispensed, the storekeeper--a long, lank eastern man--participating in the round. suddenly the latter exclaimed: "snakes! here come three reds. your man in 'em, colonel?" through the open door three indians could be descried approaching rapidly. it was raining hard, and their blankets were drawn over their heads and shoulders, leaving only a part of their faces visible. the swarthy features of ballin the scout lit up with a momentary excitement. "the centre one, colonel," he whispered, hardly moving his lips. "the centre one. he's the skunk we want, and no mistake." the indians continued to advance with their light, springy step. when about a hundred yards from the store they were suddenly joined by a large band of fully-armed and mounted warriors, clearly a band which had just arrived upon the ground, but which had hitherto been unseen by those inside the store, owing to the limited range of vision afforded by the latter's doorway. this untoward arrival placed a critical aspect on the state of affairs. but captain fisher's orders--the higher rank by which that officer was commonly addressed, was mere popular brevet--were concise. they were to the effect that he should apprehend upon sight, and convey to fort price an ogallalla sioux, known as war wolf. this was sufficient. if that indian were not apprehended it would only be because he had made himself remarkably scarce. as it was, however, here he stood before them, advancing confidently into the trap. but then, he had at his back a formidable force of his compatriots, outnumbering the cavalrymen three to one, not reckoning the number of warriors already on the ground, and whom the first whoop would bring upon the representatives of authority in crowds. clearly here was a critical situation. so thought vipan, who stood prepared to watch its _denouement_ with intense interest. so thought smokestack bill and the storekeeper, who, however, with characteristic phlegm, stood prepared to act as events should decide. so, especially, thought the captain and the dozen men disposed inside the store to effect the capture. the whole band, in delightful disorder, was now straggling around the door; the three pedestrians, who had been joined by a couple of the new arrivals, leading. all unconscious of danger, war wolf was chattering and laughing with his companions. then a shadow darkened the doorway, and the first indian entered. before his eyes became sufficiently accustomed to the sudden darkness--for the windows had been purposely shaded--the second was in the room. a rapid movement, a sudden exclamation, and two struggling bodies--all quick as lightning. captain fisher had seized the second indian from behind, effectually pinioning him. it was done in a moment. the desperate struggles of the lithe and active savage taxed all the efforts of the half-dozen men who had been told off for the purpose, while the remainder held the entrance. in a trice he was subdued, disarmed, and securely bound. his comrade, to whom ballin the scout had hurriedly explained that no harm was intended, stood by sullen and immovable. then arose an indescribable hubbub. the warriors outside, who had dismounted, rushed helter-skelter for their ponies, and the loud, vibrating shout of the war-whoop rose above the clamour of angry and inquiring voices. at its sound the temporary village became as a disturbed ants' nest, indians pouring from the _teepes_ in swarms: and in less than a minute a crowd of excited savages--mounted and afoot-- came surging down upon the log-store, brandishing their weapons, and fiercely clamouring for the instant release of their compatriot. but a line of disciplined men barred their way. drawn up in front of the store, the troopers, some fifty strong, stood with carbines levelled, awaiting the word of command; while ballin, duly instructed, went outside and informed the indians that, should they approach twenty paces nearer, the troops would fire. the effect was magical. the entire mass halted dead. then, yelling the war-whoop, a number of young bucks darted out from the main body and, putting their ponies at full speed, began circling round the tenement and its defenders. but a peremptory mandate from one of the chiefs present recalled these young-bloods, and for a moment the two rival forces stood contemplating each other--the savages with a fierce scowl of hatred, the troops, cool, determined, and not altogether anxious for a peaceful solution to the difficulty. then the chief who had recalled the more ardent of his followers, advanced making the peace-sign--extending his right hand above his head with the palm outwards. what had war wolf done, he asked, that he should be seized like a common thief in the white men's towns? had he not come peaceably with the rest to obtain his rations, and had obtained them--a clear proof that the government was not angry with him? he had been living on the reservation with them all, as everybody knew; why then should the great father send soldiers to take him? briefly captain fisher explained the charge against the young warrior. the killing of two citizens in time of peace was murder--not an act of war. the prisoner would have to answer for it before the civil courts of the territory. the chief's face was a study in admirably feigned surprise, as the above was interpreted to him. he was a warrior of tall, commanding aspect, just past middle age, and looked almost gigantic beneath his nodding eagle plumes. he was the head war-chief of the minneconjou clan, and had the reputation of being well-disposed towards the whites. he rejoiced in the name of mahto-sapa, or the black bear. "what the white captain had just told them contained sound sense," he replied. "but would it not do as well if war wolf were released now, and called upon to answer to the charge against him later on, when the great father should want to try him. such a course would be most gratifying to his countrymen, who were highly incensed that a warrior of his standing and repute should be seized in the way he had been. it would be best, perhaps, for all parties," the indian explained, with just a shadow of meaning in his uniformly courteous tone--"for his young men were so hot-blooded and impatient, he feared they might not act with the prudence and moderation to be looked for in men of riper years, a contingency which would be in every way lamentable to himself and the other chiefs of the dahcotah nation." if the speaker expected his veiled threat to produce any effect on captain fisher, he must have been sadly disappointed. concisely that officer informed him that, in the matter of a grave charge of this kind, war wolf could not expect more lenient treatment than would be accorded to a citizen under similar circumstances. no white man would be held to bail if arrested for murder, and an indian must look for precisely the same treatment--no better and no worse. at the same time he guaranteed that the prisoner should receive every consideration compatible with his safe keeping until such time as the authorities should decide upon his guilt or innocence. as for the anger of the warriors he saw before him, greatly as he should regret any breach of the peace, that consideration could not in any way be suffered to interfere with him in the discharge of his duty. were he, the speaker, the very last man left of the command they saw before them, he should still do his best to convey his prisoner whither he had been ordered, and would die rather than release him. the chief, seeing that further parley was useless, turned and rejoined his followers. then once more arose a wild hubbub of angry and discordant voices, and for a moment it seemed that the crowd of impulsive and exasperated barbarians would hurl itself forward and in one overwhelming rush annihilate that mere handful of troops. suddenly a body of warriors, some hundred strong, sprang on their ponies, and, unmindful of their leader's mandate, scoured away over the plain, whooping and brandishing their weapons. the remainder having withdrawn some little distance gathered into knots, or squatted in circles on the ground, talking in eager and menacing tones. "thunder! reckon that lot's gone to raise hell among the pesky varmints camped along your return trail, colonel," said the lank storekeeper, pinning a fly to the wall with his quid at half-a-dozen paces. "you'll need to keep a bright lookout on the road if you're ever going to get this skunk to fort price." and what of the captive? the first expression of rage, mingled with amazement and mortification, having rapidly glinted across his countenance, his features became as a mask of impassibility. only once, as his glance met that of vipan, his eyes glared as he hissed in a tone inaudible to those around: "golden face! the dahcotah's _brother_! ha! we shall meet again!" "war wolf walks straight into the trap, as a silly antelope walks up to the fluttering rag upon the hunter's wand. who is to blame but war wolf himself?" replied vipan, in the same almost inaudible tone. but the captain hearing it, turned sharply round. vipan's reputation as being on more than ordinarily friendly terms with the sioux had already reached him. however, he made no remark, but having disposed his prisoner in such wise as to guard against all possibility of escape or rescue, he prepared to start. just then the other indian who had accompanied the prisoner into the store, inquired if he might go and fetch his pony. war wolf was his brother, and he, burnt shoes, did not intend to leave him. he would go as a prisoner too. "he's a fine, staunch fellow," said the captain, kindly, as this request was interpreted. "but we can't take him. tell him so, ballin, and also that he can serve his brother's interests better by going back to his people and notifying them that in the event of their making any attack upon us either now or along the road, the prisoner will be shot dead." this was interpreted, and at war wolfs request the two indians were allowed a few moments' conversation together. then burnt shoes, having taken leave of his brother, strode away, looking straight in front of him. the threat and the warning were by no means superfluous. as the troopers appeared outside with their prisoner, the bands of savages clustered hard by sprang to their feet with an angry shout. many of the warriors could be seen fitting arrows to their bowstrings, and the click of locks was audible as they handled their rifles in very suggestive fashion. even the emphatic message which burnt shoes strove to deliver, concerning the fate awaiting his brother in the event of a rescue, was hardly heard. the clamour redoubled, and the attitude of the savages became menacing to the last degree. meanwhile the cavalry escort, with its prisoner in the midst, had got under way, and was retiring cautiously, and at a foot's pace. by this time, however, the authority of mahto-sapa, and the earnest appeals of burnt shoes, had availed to quell the tumult. the crowd began to melt away. by twos and threes, or in little groups of ten or twelve, the warriors began to disperse over the plain in all directions, only the chief, with comparatively few followers, remaining. "say, but there'll be trouble when those chaps come up with the sodgers," said the lank storekeeper, contemplating the retreating indians. "they'll jump 'em in an overwhelming crowd somewheres about blue forks, and i'll risk ten dollars there'll not be a scalp left in that command." "well, i'm going to persuade the residue to hear reason, anyhow," said vipan carelessly, making a step towards the door. "don't risk it," urged his friend, promptly. "they're plaguy mad, and it's puttin' your head into the alligator's jaws to go among 'em jes now." "well, you see, it's this way," was the rejoinder. "they are plaguy mad just now, as you say, but they'll be madder by-and-by. a classical authority has said, `agree with thine adversary quickly,' and i'm going to agree with mine." "you're a dead man if you do," said the storekeeper. "no fear. mahto-sapa and i are rather friends. i reckon i'm going to sleep in his village to-night, and i'll risk twenty dollars if you like, seth davis, that i look round here again, with all my hair on, within a month." "done!" said the storekeeper, shortly. they watched him join the group of sullen and brooding savages--moving among them, alone, absolutely fearless, as among a crowd in an english market-town--addressing one here, another there. then they saw him fetch his horse and ride away with the band, which had been preparing to take its departure. "gosh! i never saw such a galoot as that pard of yours," said seth davis, ejecting an emphatic quid. "takes no more account of a crowd of ingians a-bustin' with cussedness, nor though they were a lot o' darned kids. wal, wal! reckon that wager's on, all there; hey, smokestack bill?" "that's so," was the laconic reply. "let's liquor." chapter eighteen. "through a glass darkly." about a month later than the events just detailed, a solitary individual might have been descried occupying one of the high buttes overlooking a large tract of the northern buffalo range, somewhat near the border between the territories of montana and wyoming. howbeit, we must qualify the statement in some degree. save to the keen eye of yon war-eagle, poised high aloft in the blue ether, the man was not to be descried by any living thing, for the simple reason that he took very especial care to keep his personality effectually concealed. beneath lay the broad rolling plains extending in bold undulation far as the eye could reach, stretching away to the foothills, and then the distant snow peaks, of the bighorn range. no cloud was in the sky. the atmosphere in its summer stillness was wondrously clear, all objects being sharply definable up to an incredible distance. from his lofty perch the man looks down upon the surrounding country as upon a map lying outspread before his feet. that something is occupying his attention is evident. lying flat on his face, his gaze is riveted on the plain beneath. what object has attracted his keen vision--has sufficed to retain it? crawling onward, unwinding its slow length like some huge variegated centipede, comes a waggon train, and, though it is at least ten miles distant, the observer, from his vantage-ground, can with his unaided vision master every essential detail--several great lumbering waggons, veritable prairie schooners, their canvas tilts looking like sails upon that sea of rolling wilderness; a little way ahead of these a lighter waggon, drawn by a team of four horses. he can also make out a few mounted figures riding in front. "looks a pretty strong outfit," would run his thoughts, if put into words. "looks a pretty strong outfit. the boss--two guides, or scouts--six or eight bullwhackers--a chap to worry the horse team-- probably two or three more men thrown in--a dozen or more all told-- possibly a score. but then--the family coaches--lord knows how many women-folk and brats they hold--all down-easters, too, most likely, who never saw a redskin, except a drunken one at the posts. a dozen men ought to be able to stand off the reds; and anyhow whether they can or not the next few hours will decide. but then they've got their women to look after, and their cattle to mind. no, no; they must be idiots to come crossing this section at this time of day." the observer's reflections are, to say the least of it, ominous for those who belong to the waggon train. let us see what there is to justify them. far away in front of him, at least as far as the waggon train itself-- ahead of it, but rather off its line of route, is another object; an object which he has espied before the outfit appeared, and the sight whereof has kept him immovable on his lofty observatory for upwards of an hour. this object the inexperienced eye would hardly notice, or would pass over as an indistinct clump of scrub lying on the slope of a deep ravine. to the practised eye of the watcher, however, that object stood revealed in its true light at the very first glance, and it hardly needed the aid of the powerful double glass which he carried, and which rendered an object at ten miles almost as distinct as one at a hundred yards, to tell him that the harmless-looking clump of scrub was nothing less formidable than a strong band of indians--a strong band of red warriors _on the war-path_. "that'll be it," he mused. "the old game. they'll jump that outfit at yonder creek while it's unhitching just about sundown--rather over two hours from this. if those chaps are, as i suspect, down-easters, they'll be thrown into the liveliest confusion, and while a few of the reds run off every hoof of the cattle, the rest'll rush the whole show. their guide or guides can't be worth a damn, anyhow, to judge from the free and easy way in which the whole concern is shuffling along. there'll be fresh scalps among that war-party to-night, i'll lay long odds; but--it's rough on the women-folk, to put it mildly." to the ordinary observer there would have been something terrible beyond words in the situation. that little handful advancing fearlessly into the vast wilderness, their every step watched by the hawk-like gaze of savage videttes lying face to the ground on more than one of the adjoining heights, advancing step by step into the trap, heedless of the awful cloud overhanging their march, even that lurking band of the fiercest and most ruthless barbarians to be found upon the earth's surface. and the radiant sun shedding the golden glories of his nearly run course upon the majestic vastness of those fair solitudes sank lower and lower to his rest, only too certain to be lulled in his far-off mountain bed by the crash and rattle of shots, the exultant yells of human fiends, the unheeded prayer for mercy, then massacre mingled with a demon orgie of sickening barbarity from the very thought of which the average mind shrinks in dismay. well, what then? only one more chapter of horror in the annals of the blood-stained west. but if to the ordinary mind the situation would have been appalling, repulsive and incomprehensible to the last degree would have been the attitude of this man, who lounged there as cold-blooded a spectator of the coming struggle as a frequenter of the bull-ring awaiting his favourite entertainment, and in much the same vein; who saw those of his race and kindred advancing step by step to the most terrible form of death--for the chances in their favour were about equal to those of the bull when pitted against the _cuadrilla_--and made no effort to warn them of their peril. yet had he delivered his mind on the subject he would coolly have justified himself by the explanation that in the first place he made a point of never interfering in other people's business; while in the next he was a man who recognised no race or kindred, and who, if anything, had a greater respect for the savage red man than for the huckstering, swindling, lying white christian. the former was man ruthless as nature made him, the latter a nondescript product--equally ruthless, but _plus_ hypocrisy and cant wherewith to cloak his blood-sucking propensities. and now the waggon train was well-nigh abreast of his position. cautiously adjusting his field-glasses so that no ray of the sun glinting on the lens should betray his whereabouts, either to friend or foe, he narrowly scanned the travellers. there were, as he had conjectured, females among them, two of whom rode on horseback among the group of men in front. he scanned the ground beyond, and not a detail escaped him, even to the heads of the three indian scouts lying _perdu_, like himself, at intervals along a high ridge overlooking the line of march. then he closely scrutinised the lurking war-party. the latter was astir, and he could easily make out a sea of plumed crests and painted countenances, even to the colour of the pennons floating from the lance-heads. warriors might be seen rapidly caparisoning their ponies, while others, already prepared for action, were gathered around the little group of chiefs in the centre apparently engaged in debate. it wanted an hour to sundown. once more he brought his glasses to bear upon the travellers. suddenly the blood surged in waves over the man's bronzed and sunburnt countenance, and his hand trembled to such an extent that he nearly dropped the telescope. what did he see? pausing a moment, with an angry frown at his own weakness, again he sent a long, eager, steady look into the group riding ahead. what did the powerful lens reveal to upset the equanimity, to shake the very nerves of this cool, hardened, cynical plainsman? among the group of advancing specks is a white one-- a mere white speck. framed within the lens, however, that speck becomes a white horse, and upon his back is a girl of extraordinary beauty. surely this is not the disturbing factor? we shall see. "_that's_ too good for our dear red brother, anyhow," said the watcher half-aloud, shutting up his glass. then, without arising to his feet, he slid behind the knoll. but before doing so he sent one more glance at the distant halting place of the savages. the band was on the move, riding slowly down into the ravine. chapter nineteen. winthrop's outfit. nearer, nearer, the sun sank down to the western peaks, and upon the wilderness rested the sweet and solemn stillness of the evening hour. save the call of a bird at intervals within the timber belt, there was a silence that might be felt. the broad stream, tranquilly flowing around its bend, gleamed first with living fire, then red, as the last rays of the sun fell upon its surface, to lift in a moment, leaving its waters grey and cold. then one last kiss of golden light upon the tree-tops, and the lamp of day had gone down. one living creature moved within this solitude, however. alone, enjoying with all her soul the spacious grandeur of the western wilderness, stood a very lovely girl. every now and then she would pause for a few moments to drink in that glorious sense of unfettered freedom which the vast expanding roll of hill and plain, never ending, like a sea of billowy verdance stretching from sky to sky, inspired in her, then return to her occupation. that occupation was--fishing. she wore a riding-habit which, fitting her like a glove, revealed the undulating curves of an unrivalled figure. by some clever contrivance she had shortened its otherwise inconvenient length, and with the grace and deftness of a practised hand she was wielding a trout-rod. what a spectacle to come upon suddenly in the heart of the wild and blood-stained west! and what insane fatuity should bring her here alone in the fast falling twilight? at this moment, however, the last thought in her mind is any fear of danger. her cast whirls in the air; the flies drop noiselessly into a bubbling eddy. there is a rush through the water and a splash. an eager light comes into the velvety blue eyes, fading as rapidly to give place to one of vexation as the cast, suddenly released from its tension, springs high overhead, describing many a fantastic gyration. "how sickening," she cries, with a little stamp of impatience. "how unutterably sickening! that _was_ a beauty, and i shan't rise another to-night. but--it's nearly dark. i must go back." what is that stealthy rustle in the depths of yonder scrub? for the first time the girl is conscious of a shade of nervousness as she hurriedly begins to take her rod to pieces. her thoughts suggest the proximity of some hideous snake, or a panther perhaps. she turns towards where she left her pony. can the gathering dusk be playing her tricks? the animal is not there. though securely fastened, it has disappeared. but the sight which does meet her eyes roots her to the ground with horror. stealing noiselessly towards her, in the dark shade of the timber, are three half-naked indians--tall, athletic, hulking savages, hideously painted. they halt for a moment as they see themselves perceived. they are barely a dozen yards distant. "how, lily gal!" grunts the foremost, wreathing his repulsive face into a frightful grin, and advancing with outstretched hand. "how, lily gal! no 'fraid! me good injun, me. ha, ha! me good injun brudder." the exultant mockery underlying this friendly address was too transparent. her eyes dilating with horror, the girl stepped back, the consciousness that she was alone in the power of these fiends turning her limbs to stone. they, for their part, secure of their beautiful prize, were enjoying her terror. "no run 'way," said the first speaker, who had diminished the distance between them. "no run 'way. injun, good brudder." and he seized her left wrist in the grasp of a vice--while another, with a fierce chuckling laugh, made a movement to seize her right one. but the brutal contact broke the spell of horror which was weaving around her. a wild cry of indignation escaped her lips, and her eyes blazed. wrenching her right wrist free, she dashed the heavy butt end of her fishing-rod with all her force--and it was not small--full into the first assailant's face, knocking out some of his front teeth, and causing him to loosen his hold. with the fierce growl of a wounded cougar, the savage sprang at her again, the blood streaming from his mouth, and as the unhappy girl recoiled to renew her efforts to keep her persecutors at bay, such a marvellous change came over the scene that not one of the actors in it was quite aware what had happened. an enormous dark mass seemed to fall from the very heavens, simultaneously with a thundrous roar. the girl, now tottering on the verge of faintness, saw, as in a flash, her first assailant lying with his skull crushed to pulp, another lay gasping in the agonies of death, while the third was just vanishing in the timber! at him pointing the still smoking muzzle of a revolver, mounted on a huge black horse, was the most splendidly handsome man she had ever seen. "quick! drop all that gear and mount in front of me. give me your hand." there was no disobeying the curt commanding tone. resisting a deadly impulse to faint right away, she extended her hand. in a second she was swung up before the stranger on his powerful horse. it was all done like lightning. the first appearance of the savages-- the assault--the rescue--occupied barely a couple of minutes. pale to the lips, shaky, and unnerved, she could hardly now realise it all. but often in the time to come would she look back to that strange ride, the weight of the appalling danger she had just escaped still hanging over her, the courage and promptitude of her rescuer, the struggle she was waging with her own natural terror, dreading she knew not what. the black steed was going at a gallop now, but his rider had him well in hand. the girl noticed that they were making something of a _detour_ which took them far out on the open plain, whereas her ride down to the river had led her along the very edge of the timber. she noticed, too, the anxious, alert look on the stranger's face. though he did not turn his head, she felt assured that not a detail in the surroundings escaped him. "there are your people," he said briefly, as they suddenly came in sight of the camp. the waggons had just unhitched, and the mules and oxen were being driven down to the water; not the river we have seen, but a small creek running into it. already columns of smoke were rising on the evening air. "i can never thank you enough," said the girl, suddenly and with a shudder. "but for your promptitude where should i be now?" "say but for your own courage and self-possession. the average idiot in petticoats would have shrieked and fainted and gone into hysterics. meanwhile, the reds would have captured her and shot me," he rejoined, somewhat roughly. "be advised by me now. don't startle the rest of the women, or they'll hamper us seriously. now we'll dismount." he lifted her to the ground, and, without another word, turned to confront a man who had hurried up. but the girl's clear voice interrupted him before he could speak. "this gentleman has rescued me from frightful danger, major winthrop. there are indians about." "by jove!" said he addressed, with a start of astonishment, looking from the one to the other. he was a man below middle age, of medium height, active and well-built, and there was no mistaking him for anything other than what he was--an english gentleman. "boss of this outfit, i take it?" said the new arrival shortly. "yes. allow me to offer you my most grateful thanks for--" "well, there's a big lot of sioux preparing to `jump' you at any moment. corral your waggons without delay, and have your cattle brought in at once. not a second to lose." a frightful yell drowned his words. there was a thunder of hoofs upon the turf as a band of some fifty mounted indians, dashing from their cover, bore down upon the herd of draught stock which was being driven back from the water in charge of three or four men. on came the savages, whooping and whistling, brandishing blankets and buffalo robes with the object of stampeding the now frantic cattle. but among those in charge of the latter there chanced to be a couple of experienced plainsmen. in a trice there rang out three shots, and two of the assailants' ponies went riderless. crack--crack! another pony went down. this was more than the redskins could stand. like a bird of prey alarmed in its swoop, the entire band swerved at a tangent and skimmed away over the plain as fast as their ponies could carry them. the herd was saved. "there goes the first act in the drama," said the stranger coolly. "now stand clear for the second." the suddenness of it all--the yelling, the shots, the swoop of the painted and feathered warriors--had created a terrible panic in the camp, and had the main body of the savages charged at that moment nothing could have saved its inmates. as the stranger had at first conjectured, two of the waggons were full of women and children, the families of some of the emigrants. these at once rushed to the conclusion that their last hour had come, and shrieks and wailings tended to render confusion worse confounded. but major winthrop, with military promptitude, had got the men well in hand, and a very few minutes sufficed to corral the waggons, bring in the cattle, and put the whole camp into a creditable state of defence. it was now nearly dark. "will they attack us to-night?" enquired major winthrop, as, having completed his arrangements, he returned to where the stranger was seated smoking a pipe and gazing narrowly out into the gloomy waste. "i should be inclined to say not. their surprise has fallen through, you see, and then indians don't like fighting at night. but it's at the hour before dawn, when we're all infernally sleepy and more or less shivery with being up all night--it's then we shall have to keep a very bright look-out indeed. i should keep about half your men at a time on guard all night through if i were in your place." "who air you, stranger?" said a not very friendly voice. he addressed turned, and beheld a lank, dried-up individual who might have been any age between thirty and fifty. his hawk-like face was the colour of mahogany, and, but for a small moustache, was devoid of hirsute adornment. his deep-set grey eyes, however, were those of a man prompt and keen to act in the moment of difficulty or danger. his dress consisted of a rather dirty blue shirt and fringed breeches. "who am i? why just who i look--neither more nor less," was the rejoinder, given with provoking tranquillity. "and what might your name be--if it's a fair question?" "it might be jones, or it might not. the question is a fair one, however. that being so, i don't mind telling you my name is vipan. what's yours?" "i'm oregon dave, champion bronco-buster [ranch term for a professional horse-breaker] of wyoming. i'm boss-guide of this hyar outfit, and the chap who reckons he knows injuns and their little ways better nor i had best just step out and say so." "if i were boss-guide of any outfit, i'm damned if i'd let a young lady belonging to that same start off by herself to go fishing among a sioux war-party," said vipan, with a quiet satire in his tone that was maddening to the last degree. he resented the other's truculent bearing, and intended to let him know it. "eh! say that again," said the first speaker, flushing with anger. "we mustn't quarrel my friends, we mustn't quarrel," put in major winthrop, earnestly. "it was mainly owing to your pluck and promptitude, dave, that we haven't lost every hoof of our cattle. and but for mr vipan, here, miss santorex would at this moment be a prisoner among the sioux. i was to blame in that matter, and i bitterly acknowledge it." then he told him the circumstances of vipan's unexpected and opportune appearance among them. before its conclusion oregon dave turned to the latter with outstretched palm: "shake, stranger, shake. you're all there, and i'm only fit to be kicked into a kennel to yelp. guide? no, i ain't no guide, only a tenderfoot--a doggoned professor. scalp me if i don't go and hunt bugs upon the perairie with a brace o' gig-lamps stuck across my nose. i'll go now and ask the reds to tar and roast me. good-bye, kurnel; good-bye, stranger, i ain't no guide, i ain't. thunder, no!" "nonsense, man," said winthrop, clapping him on the shoulder. "we were all to blame. we were informed along the road that the indians were peaceable, and that all chance of war was at an end, for this summer, at any rate," he explained, for vipan's benefit. "that being so, we have travelled much too carelessly, although in camp we've been on the alert for horse or cattle thieves." "i've been watching your outfit, and i've been watching the reds for nearly two hours," said vipan. "they mean't jumping you yonder at the creek, and would have done so before this if you had not changed your plan, and camped here. as near as i can count, there are about three hundred of them. see that butte away up there? that's where i've been located. came down to warn you--none too soon, either." "no, indeed. we owe you a debt of gratitude we can never repay, myself especially. good god, if harm had befallen miss santorex! i can't even stand the idea of it." "relative of yours?" said the other shortly. "_no_. she's the sister of a neighbour of ours--man who runs the adjoining ranch. she's come out from england to stay with her brother for a bit, and took the opportunity of travelling with us. and--if anything had happened--good god, if anything had happened! it's an awful responsibility, and i devoutly wish we were safe through it. now, i think, we may go and get some supper." major winthrop, as we have said, was english. he had retired early from the service, and being an energetic fellow had soon found an unoccupied life pall upon him. accordingly he had migrated to the far west and started ranching--a life that suited him thoroughly. his wife, a pretty little vivacious brunette, was american. she was considerably his junior, and they had not been long married; and at the time we make their acquaintance were returning from a visit to her home in the eastern states. "my! what a fine-looking fellow!" she whispered to her friend, as she watched the approach of her husband's guest. "why, yseulte, it was worth while getting into a fix to be rescued by such a knight-errant as that." to her surprise the colour came to the girl's face--visible in the moonlight--as she answered: "what nonsense, hettie! do be quiet, or they'll hear you." "i ought to scold you severely, miss santorex, for running such an awful risk," said winthrop, as they sat down to supper, picnic fashion, beside the horse waggon which served as the ladies' bedroom, saloon, and boudoir--and in bad weather, dining-room--all run into one. "please don't, for i assure you i'm very penitent," she answered. "and then just think what an adventure she'll have to tell about when she gets home again," put in mrs winthrop. "well, now, yseulte, what do you think of our indians, now you have seen them--real ones--at last?" "oh, don't ask me!" answered the girl, who was still rather pale and shaky, in spite of her plucky efforts to recover her self-possession. "that last charge was all over so quickly. but aren't they rather cowardly?" "why?" said the major. "well, a number of them like that to be turned back by three men." "i trust you may have no practical occasion to alter your opinion," put in vipan, speaking for the first time. "that was a small surprise party bent on running off the stock--not fighting. as it was, they lost two killed and wounded at the first fire, and one pony, which is enough to turn any indian charge of that strength." "killed! were there any killed?" asked mrs winthrop, in a horrified tone. "they seemed only frightened." "h'm, perhaps that was all, or they may have been only wounded," said vipan, inventing a pious fraud for the occasion. these two delicately nurtured women would require all their resolution on the morrow; there was no need to unnerve them with an instalment of horrors to-night. so both men affected an unconcern which one of them at any rate was far from feeling, and little by little the contagion spread, and the emigrants' families began to forget their first fears, and the spell of brooding horror which had first lain upon them began to pass away, and the terrible danger with which they were threatened seemed more remote, yet, the night through, men sat together in groups, chatting in an undertone, as, rifle in hand, they never entirely took their gaze off the moonlit waste, lest the ferocious and lurking foe should creep upon them in his strength and strike them unawares. chapter twenty. the war-path. "steady, boys. here they come!" whispered vipan, his eyes strained upon the point of a long narrow spit of scrub looming dark and indistinct in the heavy morning mist. within the waggons, whose sides were securely padded with sacks of flour and other protective material, the women and children, worn out with anxiety and apprehension, were slumbering hard. it was the gloomy hour of early dawn. a moment's aim, and he discharged his winchester. the report rolled out like thunder upon the heavy mist-enshrouded atmosphere. then a moment of dead silence. suddenly a line of fire darted along the ground. then whirling down like lightning upon the corral came what resembled a number of wavy balls of flame. there was a roar and thunder of hoofs, the loud, horrible, quavering war-whoop rent the air, and a plunging sea of hideously painted centaurs, streaming with feathers and tags and scalp-locks, and bathed as it were, in a ring of flame, surged around the corral, enfolding it in a mighty moving mass of demon riders and phantom steeds. a shower of blazing torches came whizzing right into the midst of the camp, followed by another. thick and fast they fell, lying sputtering and flaring everywhere. the encampment and its defenders were in a sheet of flame, and amid the clouds of sulphurous smoke, even the crash and rattle of volleys was well-nigh drowned in the demoniacal and stunning yells of the attacking savages, who, pressing the advantage afforded them by this unlooked-for panic, saw success already theirs. in the excitement of this sudden surprise the shooting on both sides was wild in the extreme. amid the whirling, plunging mass, a warrior was seen to leap convulsively in his saddle, and, throwing up his arms, sink beneath the pounding hoofs. more than one pony rolled upon the ground, but still the flying horde circled in nearer and nearer, full half its strength preparing for a final and decisive charge. it seemed that the doom of every man, woman, and child in that camp was sealed. maddened by the terrific yells, by the flames of the burning missiles scorching their legs, the frantic animals picketed within the corral plunged and kicked, and strained wildly at their picket ropes. it only needed for them to break loose to render the general demoralisation complete. but amid the indescribable tumult, the yelling of the indians, the plunging of the frenzied cattle, the crash and rattle of volleys, the fiery peril which threatened to wrap the whole camp in flames, the on-rushing squadrons of demon centaurs, and the piteous shrieks of terrified women and children, three or four men there kept their heads, and well indeed was it for the rest that they did so. "keep cool, boys! don't fire too quick," thundered vipan, deliberately picking up one of the blazing torches and hurling it with good aim full against the striped countenance of a too daring assailant. winthrop, whose trained eye took in the weakness, the frightful jeopardy of the situation, had his hands full at the side of the corral which he had elected to attend to. "jee-hoshaphat!" exclaimed oregon dave, between his set teeth. "now for it, boys! they mean hair this time." for the indians, who, wheeling and turning on their quick active little steeds in such wise as to render themselves difficult targets in the uncertain light, as well as to bewilder the eye of their enemy, were now seen to mass together with marvellous celerity. then, with a long, thrilling whoop, they charged like lightning upon the weakest point in the defences. never more deadly cool in their lives, half-a-dozen men, among them vipan and oregon dave, stand in readiness. "now let drive," whispers the latter. a raking volley at barely a hundred yards. several saddles are emptied, but it does not stop the charge. led by a chief of gigantic stature and wildly ferocious aspect, the whole band hurls itself forward, as a stone from a catapult. then the fighting is desperate indeed, for it is hand-to-hand. a score of warriors slide from their horses and leap within the enclosure, their grim and savage countenances aglow with the triumph of victory, only, however, to retreat helter-skelter as several of their number drop dead or wounded before the terrible six-shooters of that determined half-dozen. in the confusion the gigantic chief, watching his opportunity, puts forth his lance and spears one of the unfortunate emigrants through the heart. then bending forward he drags out the still quivering body, and with amazing strength throws it across his horse. "that's that devil crow-scalper," cries vipan, amid the roar of rage which goes up at this feat. but the chief, flinging the body to the earth again, wheels his horse and utters his piercing rallying _cry_, brandishing aloft the bleeding scalp he has just taken. more than one bullet ploughs through the eagle plumes of his war-bonnet; his horse is shot under him; but he seems to bear a charmed life. leaping on the pony of a warrior at that moment shot dead at his side, again he utters his shrilling, piercing whoop and strives to rally his band. but the latter have had about enough. the deadly precision of those unceasing close-quarter shots is more than indian flesh and blood can stand up to. "they're off, by th' etarnal, they're off!" roared one of the emigrants, a tall kentuckian who boasted a strain of the blood of the boones. "give 'em another volley, boys!" "guess so, elias," yelled his spouse, a raw-boned masculine virago, who throughout had been wielding a rifle with good effect. but the indians showed no desire to wait for this parting attention. they kept up a show of fight just long enough to enable them to bear away their dead, always an important feature in their military drill. then with a final whoop of defiance they vanished into the mist. suddenly they returned, but only a handful. one of their fallen comrades had been overlooked. darting from among the rest a couple of warriors, riding abreast, skimmed rapidly along towards the corral. suddenly they were seen to bend over, and seizing an inert corpse by the neck and heels, raise it and fling it across the pommel in front of one of them. then, almost without abating speed, they wheeled their ponies and disappeared. "by the lord! but that was well done," cried winthrop. throughout this desperate affray, which had not occupied many minutes, the weaker members of the community, frozen with fear, crouched shudderingly within their shelters. these helpless women knew what terrible fate awaited them in the event of the savages proving victorious, and to their appalled senses the hideous war-whoop, the thunder of charging hoofs, the shouts and the wild crashing of shots seemed as a very hell opening before them. shivering in her well-padded waggon, poor little mrs winthrop was in a pitiable state of terror and anxiety. "oh, yseulte, i wish i could be as brave as you," she moaned, clinging to her friend as to a final refuge. "how do you manage it? tell me." "i don't know," answered the girl, with something of a warrior-light shining in her eyes. "only i'm sure we shall win." the calm, steadfast tones conveyed to the distracted, terrified creature, as she herself phrased it, "tons of comfort." then the tumult had ceased. the mist was rolling back, unfolding heaven's vault of brilliant blue, and in less than half an hour the whole country-side stood revealed. not an indian was in sight. slain ponies lay around, and here and there a dark clot of gore showed where a warrior had fallen. "will they come again?" said winthrop, turning to vipan. many an ear hung upon the answer. "no," replied the latter, tranquilly, beginning to sponge out his rifle. "i never saw a finer charge than that last, and they know perfectly that if it wouldn't carry the corral nothing will. they intended a surprise, you see, but it broke down completely, and unless they try the palaver trick we shall see no more of them just yet. but we shall have to keep a bright lookout, for depend upon it, they won't let us be out of sight long--for some time at any rate." "waal, boys," drawled the tall kentuckian, "i reckon we'll jest squat around a bit, and be darn thankful." "that's so, elias," assented his martial spouse, diving into the waggon to lug out her brood by the ears, as if nothing had happened. chapter twenty one. truce. it was afternoon, and quiet had settled down upon the emigrants' camp once more. while its inmates were despatching their much-needed breakfasts vipan and oregon dave had sallied forth upon a scout. they soon returned, reporting the whole party of indians to be retiring over a distant range of hills some twelve miles to the eastward. so, pickets being posted to give warning should they think better of it and return, the cattle were driven down to the water and were now enjoying a graze under the watchful supervision of half-a-dozen men. it was afternoon. most of the inmates of the camp were recruiting themselves after their night of watching and the exciting events of the morning's conflict. a few drowsy snores, or now and then the puling cry of some child within the waggons, or perchance the clatter of pots and pans, as one or two of the women were cleaning up the culinary implements which had served for the morning meal; these were the only sounds which broke the slumbrous stillness. stretched upon the turf about fifty yards outside the corral, puffing lazily at an indian pipe, lay vipan. he alone of all there present seemed to feel no need of slumber. the dash and excitement of the conflict over, a strange reaction had set in. there was a look upon his face as of a man who, turning back upon the chapters of his own history, finds the reminiscences therein recorded the reverse of pleasant. it was also the look of one who is undergoing a new experience, and a disquieting one. a light step on the grass behind him. "are you really made of cast-iron, mr vipan?" "h'm, why so, miss santorex?" "because everyone else is snoring like the seven sleepers, and you, who have had as trying a time of it as any three of the rest put together, are still wide awake." "i might say the same of you. you, too, have been awake all night." "oh, dear no; nothing like it. and now--and now we are alone, i want really to thank you as i ought, but--but--i don't know how," broke off the girl, with a comic ruefulness that was inexpressibly bewitching. "really, though, i never was further from joking in my life. now that i have seen what those dreadful savages are like, i seem to realise what a frightful fate you saved me from," she added earnestly, with a lovely flush. "let us talk of something else," he answered, somewhat abruptly. "you showed extraordinary grit during the recent little unpleasantness between us and our red brothers. may i ask where, when, and how you served your apprenticeship as an indian fighter?" she laughed and gave a slight shiver. now that they were over, the appalling experiences of the early morning could not but tell upon her. she was rather pale, and dark circles round her eyes told of an apprehensive and restless night. "poor mrs winthrop is quite ill this morning, and no wonder. i hope we shall have no more of those frightful experiences. and yet, to look round the camp no one would suspect that anything out of the way had happened." vipan followed her glance. he was glad that all traces of the bloody struggle had been removed--the dead bodies, including that of the unfortunate emigrant who had been scalped, had been buried while the terrified and worn-out women were sleeping the slumber of exhaustion. "no, it was all horrible--horrible," yseulte went on, speaking gravely and sadly. "if i was not half-dead with fear it was thanks to my father's teaching. he always used to say that panic was fatal to self-respect, and still more fatal to self-preservation. child as i was, the idea took root, and i was able to conquer my fears of bulls or savage dogs, or mysterious noises at night, or at any rate very nearly so." "quite, i should say. your father must be a somewhat rare type of man." "he is. wait till you see him. then you will think so." "is he coming out here, then?" "coming out here!" she echoed, wonderingly. "oh, no. i am going back in a few months' time. i mean when you come to see us and give him the opportunity of thanking you as i never can." vipan looked curiously at her. they had been strolling all this while, and were now well out of earshot of the camp. "when i come and see you," he repeated. "to begin with, it is extremely unlikely i shall ever leave these festive plains, let alone go back to england." "ah, you _are_ english. i guessed that much from the very first. but i thought--we all thought--you were only out here on a trip." he did not even smile. "do you think, miss santorex, that a man out here `on a trip' would be up to every move of a sioux war-party? no; i have been out here a good many years. there are those in the settlements who speak of me as the white indian, who have more than once attempted my life because i happen to feel more respect for the savage as he is than for that vilest of all scum of humanity the `mean white.' why, not many weeks ago i was in a far tighter place than this last little shindy of ours, and narrowly escaped with my life at the hands of the latter." "bang!" the picket posted on an eminence a mile distant had discharged his piece. "we must cut short our walk," went on the adventurer. "that shot means indians in sight." a few minutes and the pickets could be seen riding in. as arranged, the cattle, which had been brought near on the first alarm, were now quickly driven into the corral. the man who had fired the shot reported a large party of warriors approaching rapidly from the direction in which the assailants had retired. he reckoned it was the same lot coming back. "hoorar! guess we'll lick 'em into pounded snakes again," drawled the long kentuckian, on hearing this news. "they don't want to fight," said vipan, "or they wouldn't have drawn off so kindly to let us water and graze the stock. this time they're coming to talk." "well, that's better, anyhow," said the major. a sentiment which his wife, who was standing at his side looking very pale and scared, thoroughly echoed. mounted figures now began to appear on the ridge about a mile away, and presently the entire band was halted upon the eminence. then a couple of warriors rode out from the main body, and advancing a little distance, made the peace-sign. by way of answer a white towel was run up on a pole and waved above the waggon corral. "i want you to see this, miss santorex," said vipan. "it's a sight you may not see again in a lifetime." the band had now left its halting place and was riding slowly down towards the camp. if in the wild fury of their swooping charge the indians had worn a savagely picturesque aspect, with their waving plumes, and flowing tags and scalp-locks on weapon and garment, none the less now was the appearance of the warrior phalanx stately and striking to the last degree. so thought yseulte santorex, as she gazed with more admiration than fear upon this array of the barbaric chivalry of the western plains. the indians approached in crescent formation, some half-dozen chiefs riding a little in advance. all were in their war-paint--the dresses of some being, moreover, exceeding rich with colour and embroidery--the eagle-plumed crest of many a noted brave streaming to the ground as he rode. not a warrior but showed some bit of gorgeous colour. even the ponies' manes were adorned with feathers and vermilion, and the lance-heads and floating pennants gleaming above the sea of fierce stern faces put the finishing touch to a battle array as martial and gallant-looking as it was redoubtable and ruthlessly unsparing. "it is magnificent!" said yseulte, as from the coign of vantage which the other had secured for her she surveyed the approaching band. "what tribe are they, mr vipan?" "sioux. there may be a few cheyennes among them, but the war-party is a sioux one. take the glass, and i'll tell you who some of them are. the chief there most to the right is crow-scalper, of the uncpapa clan, a record of whose atrocities would keep you awake at night for a week." "he's a splendid-looking fellow," commented the girl, gazing withal at the gigantic warrior who had led the last and most persistent charge upon the camp. "oh, yes; i know him well. many's the hour i've spent in his lodge making him talk. now, look again. the middle one is mountain cat--the trappers call him catamount, but the other's the real rendering of his name. he hates the whites more than any indian on this continent, and would willingly put a bullet into me if he got the chance. he's an ogallalla, and a good big chief too." "he looks an awful savage," answered yseulte, with the glass still at her eyes. "i never saw a more diabolical expression. who is the man who has just joined them?" "lone panther--a half-bred cheyenne--a small chief in standing, but a fiend when he heads a war-party. and now i must leave you for a little, and go and hear what they have to say. it may interest you to watch the progress of our conference through the glass." "that it will. but, oh, mr vipan, do try and persuade them to leave us in peace. you know them so well, i am sure you can." "i'll try, anyhow, if only for your sake," he answered, with a queer smile. the three chiefs named had halted their band, and, attended by a couple of warriors displaying dingy white rags on their lance-points, were cantering down towards the corral. arrived within two hundred yards, they halted. there went forth to meet them vipan, major winthrop, and one of the latter's cowboys, who rejoiced in the name of sam sharp; also two of the teamsters to hold their horses. when within a hundred yards of each other, both parties dismounted. the three chiefs, giving their horses to their attendants, advanced with slow and stately gait to where the three white men awaited them. "do we meet in peace, or do we meet in war?" began vipan, as both parties having surveyed each other for a few moments the indians showed no inclination to break the silence. no answer followed this straight question. then lone panther, breaking into a broad grin, said: "injun brother goddam hungry. white colonel gib him heap `chuck.'" [food.] of this flippant remark winthrop, to whom it was addressed, took no notice beyond a signal to vipan to carry the negotiations further. the latter explained to the chiefs that the "white colonel" entertained his friends, not his enemies. they had attacked his outfit, tried to run off his stock, and had made themselves a dangerous nuisance. but that the camp had been vigorously defended they would have killed every one in it. they could not do this, and now they came and asked to be feasted as if they were friends. to this crow-scalper, putting on his most jovial smile and manner, replied that the whole affair had been a mistake. young men, especially when on the war-path, would not always be restrained; that being so, the chiefs were obliged to humour them. beside, the warriors had no idea that these whites were among the friends of golden face, or that golden face was in the camp at all. otherwise they would never have attempted to run off even a single hoof. vipan could hardly keep from roaring with laughter at the twinkle which lurked in the speaker's eye, as he delivered himself of this statement. both he and the red man knew each other well--knew the futility of trying to humbug each other. hence the joke underlying the whole thing. what himself and his warriors most ardently desired now, went on crow-scalper, was to show themselves friends of the friends of golden face. to this end they proposed to accompany the waggon train as an escort. there were, he feared, bands of very bad indians roaming the country, who would leave them unmolested if they had for escort a dahcotah war-party. this course would wipe out all bad blood between them, and atone for the mistake they had made in attacking their dear friends the whites. so having settled this to his own satisfaction, crow-scalper suggested that a proper and most harmonious way of cementing their new friendship would be for the white men to join camp with their red brothers and to invite the latter to participate in a feast. vipan managed to preserve his gravity while translating these proposals for the benefit of his companions. the chiefs meanwhile watched every expression of their faces with steady and scrutinising gaze. "they must take us for born idiots," said winthrop. "thunder! i guess there's no end to the sass of a redskin," said sam sharp, the cowboy. "travel with a war-party of pesky sioux! haw-haw-haw!" "better conciliate them to a small extent, though i never did believe in buying off your danes," said winthrop. "i'll give them an order for coffee and sugar and tobacco on the post we last quitted; but i'll see them hanged before they'll get anything out of us here." this resolve vipan communicated to the chiefs. the white colonel felt quite strong enough to protect his own camp and did not need the escort so kindly offered. at the same time his red brothers could best show their friendship by retiring altogether and leaving him quite alone. the chiefs had admitted their inability to control their young men under all circumstances, and this being so, it would be best to part good friends. they could proceed to fort jervis and obtain the supplies, for which he would give them an order. the emissaries saw that the game was up. they might eventually wear out the patience and watchfulness of the whites, and obtain the scalps and plunder they so ardently desired, but they would have to fight. no safe and easy way of treachery lay open to the coveted spoil, and this they recognised. then mountain cat, who up till now had preserved a stern and contemptuous silence, said: "golden face, the friend and brother of the dahcotah! should he not rather be called double face?" the sneering and vindictive tone was not lost upon the other two whites, although they understood not a word of its burden. glancing at vipan, they noticed that he was as unconcerned as though the other had never spoken. "does one friend kill another?" went on the savage, his eyes flashing with hatred. "ha! more than one of our young men has been shot this day. who was their slayer? golden face--the friend and brother of the dahcotah nation!" "what were my words to the great council at dog creek?" was the calm rejoinder. "`those who strike my friends strike me, and turn me into an enemy.' were there not enough whites abroad upon the plains for your war-party to strike without attacking my friends whom i accompany? enough. my words stand. i never go back from them." for a moment things seemed to have come to a crisis. the chief made a step backward and cast a half-involuntary glance in the direction of his party. a threatening scowl came over his grim countenance, and his hand made a movement towards the revolver in his belt. but vipan never moved a muscle, beyond carelessly dropping his rifle so as to cover the indian in a manner apparently accidental. "the dahcotah have entertained a false friend in their midst," went on mountain cat, darting forth his hand with a menacing gesture, "one who smokes in their council and then betrays them. where is war wolf?" "is war wolf my horse or my dog that it is my business to take care of him?" was the coldly contemptuous reply. "who witnessed the scalp-dance in our village at dog creek, when war wolf showed his scalps? who delivered him into the hands of the soldiers?" said the other, meaningly. "i know who did not--and that was myself. we may as well speak plainly. war wolf appears to have gone about the country bragging how he took the scalps of two white men, when he ought to have kept his mouth shut. if he was seized by the soldiers he has himself to thank for it, and nobody else--certainly not me, any more than yourself. i would even have warned him if i had been able, but it was impossible. that is enough about the matter." "good," repeated the savage chieftain, in a tone full of grim meaning. "golden face talks well, but in future our war-parties will know an enemy from a friend." "so be it," replied vipan, wholly unmoved by the threat. "if your party attacks our outfit again, we shall fight, as we did before." "excuse me," put in winthrop, who was waxing impatient during this protracted conversation. "excuse me--but our friend there does not seem to enter into the situation in a right spirit. here is the order. it is made available only up till three days hence. so if you will kindly inform him accordingly, no doubt we shall get rid of the whole crew." on the principle of "half a loaf," the other two chiefs grasped the bit of paper eagerly. they were beaming with smiles, and brimming over with affection for their dear white brothers. only mountain cat held scowlingly aloof. then they returned to their men. it was uncertain now how matters would turn. watching them, the occupants of the corral could see that an animated conference was being held. would there be another battle? even if not, a large war-party like this, determined to annoy them, could soon reduce their position to one of imminent peril. by closely investing the camp they could render it nearly an impossibility for the stock to obtain proper grazing--let alone bringing all progress forward to an utter standstill. they could even make it a matter of extreme difficulty to replenish the water supply--and then, too, there would be the constant strain and fatigue of ever being on the watch against surprise--whether by day or night. so that when their conference ended, the whole party mounted their ponies and retreated in the same way as they had come, the feeling evoked in the minds of the spectators was one of entire and undiluted relief. chapter twenty two. a peril of the plains. "a `tenderfoot,' and--`turned round'!" [lost.] and the speaker hands his field-glass to his companion. the latter brings it to bear and gazes with interest upon the object under observation. the said object is a horseman, now between three and four miles distant. the observers from their point of vantage and concealment, a little belt of scrub and timber cresting a knoll, have been watching this object ever since it appeared on the skyline. thanks to the powerful glass they can make out every movement of the solitary horseman, and very irresolute his movements are. now he reins in, and looks anxiously around; now he spurs his nag to the brow of some slight eminence, only to encounter disappointment, for the broad rolling plains lie around in unbroken monotony, affording no sort of landmark for the guidance of this inexperienced traveller. there is weariness and disappointment in his every movement. in his countenance there is more--an expression of strong apprehension, not to say alarm. this, too, thanks to the developments of science, is clear to the observers. "a `tenderfoot,' and turned round," repeats vipan. "now, what the deuce can he be doing here, alone, and away from his outfit? why--what's the matter, miss santorex?" "look--look!" is the hurried reply. "there--to the right--down in the hollow! what--who are they?" in her eagerness she has seized his arm, and her face has gone pale as death. but vipan has seen at the same time what she herself has. his reply is grave and in one word. for a new factor has appeared on the scene. stealing around the slope of the hill, out of sight of the horseman, but so that a few minutes will bring them suddenly upon him, come nearly a score of mounted figures. their plumed heads and long lances show them to be indians, their painted faces and the fantastic trappings of their ponies show them to be warriors on the war-path. their stealthy glide, as nearer and nearer they advance upon their wholly unconscious victim, leaves no doubt whatever as to their present intentions. indeed, the observers can plainly distinguish the exultant grin on each cruel countenance as the warriors exchange glances or signals. a few moments, and the solitary horseman will ride right into their midst. "oh, can nothing be done to save him?" cried yseulte santorex, clasping her hands in the intensity of the situation. "i'm afraid, under present circumstances--nothing," was the reply, given with a calmness that outraged and exasperated her. "what! i should never have believed it of you, mr vipan," she cried, her eyes flashing with indignation. "i should never have believed that you--you of all men--would stand by and see a fellow-creature barbarously done to death, and make no effort to save him, or even to warn him." there was a strange look in vipan's eyes as he met her scornful and angry glance--full and unflinchingly. "should you not!" he replied. "well, then, i would stand by and see a hetacomb of `fellow-creatures' done to death, if the alternative lay in exposing you to serious danger." "forgive me," she said, hurriedly, and in a softer tone. "but leave me out of the question, and let us try and save him. see! there are not many indians; we can surely do something. oh! it is too late!" the stranger's horse was seen suddenly to stop short, pause, swerve, then start forward with a bound that nearly left his rider rolling on the plain. he had scented the indians, who at the same moment appeared within a few hundred yards of the white man. feigning astonishment at the suddenness of the meeting, one of the foremost warriors called out in broken english: "how! white brother not run away. we good injun--damn good injun! stop!--say `how.' smoke pipe--eat heap `chuck'! damn good injun, we! white brother--stop!" but the "white brother," though obviously a greenhorn, was not quite so soft as that. for all answer he dug the spurs into the sides of his nag in such wise as materially to increase the distance between himself and the savages. the latter, baulked of an easy and bloodless capture, together with the rare sport of putting a prisoner to death amid all manner of slow and ingenious tortures, cast all pretence to the winds, as they darted in pursuit. then began a race for life, which the spectators could not but watch with thrilling interest. fortunately for the fugitive, his horse was an animal of blood and mettle, and seemed likely to show a good lead to the fleet war-ponies. but on the other hand the fugitive himself was an indifferent rider, and more than once, wholly unaccustomed to the tremendous pace, he would sway in the saddle, and only save himself by a hurried clutch at his steed's mane from being cast headlong to the earth. the whoops and yells of the savage pursuers sounded nearer and nearer in his ears, and the expression of his countenance, livid as with the dews of death, and eyeballs starting from their sockets, was that of such despairing horror as to turn one of the two spectators sick and faint. "there's just a chance for him," muttered vipan, more to himself than to his companion. "if he takes the right fork of the valley he's a dead man--nothing can save him. if he takes the left, it'll bring him close under us, and i'll give him a hail." "do, for the love of heaven!" gasped the girl through her ashy lips. "god will help us, if we try and save this stranger." along the valley-bottom swept this most engrossing of all hunts--a man-hunt. whatever advantage the superiority of his horse afforded him the fugitive was throwing away by his own clumsiness; for wildly gripping the bridle to steady himself in his seat, he was checking and worrying his steed to a perilous extent. bent low on the necks of their ponies, the savages were urging the latter to their utmost speed. slowly but surely now they were gaining. but a minute more and the fugitive must choose--the right fork of the valley, away into certain death--the left, succour, possible safety. suddenly a warrior, urging his steed in advance of the rest, literally flying over the ground, comes within fifty yards of the fugitive. five--ten--another effort and he will be within striking distance. then rising upright in his saddle the savage whirls a lasso in the air. another moment and the fatal coil will have settled around the doomed man's shoulders. but it is not to be. a crack and a puff of smoke from the spectators' hiding-place. the distance is too great for accuracy of aim--six hundred yards if an inch--but the ball ploughs up the ground under the pony's feet, causing the animal to swerve and the rider to miss his cast. the warriors, disconcerted by this wholly unlooked-for danger, halt for a moment, gazing in the direction of the report. at the same time a stentorian voice calls out: "this way, stranger. this way, for your blessed soul, or you're a dead man!" the fugitive needs no second invitation. his horse's head is turned towards the never-so-welcome refuge. amid a shower of bullets and arrows from his discomfited pursuers he gallops up the gradual slope which lies between himself and safety, and, fainting, exhausted, speechless, more dead than alive, at length flings himself upon the ground at his rescuers' feet. vipan's attention is for the moment more taken up with the red warriors than with the man he has saved from their ruthless clutches. the whole party has now withdrawn beyond range, and is busily discussing the sudden turn affairs have taken. then turning to the panting and exhausted man stretched at full length upon the ground with closed eyes, he remarks drily: "you've had a narrow squeak for it, friend. i don't think your scalp could sit much more lightly than it has done within the last few minutes short of coming off altogether." but the fugitive seemed not to hear. his whole attention was fixed-- riveted--upon the beautiful face bending over him in alarm--solicitude-- then unbounded surprise. "yseulte!" he stammered. "yseulte! is it really you, or am i dead or dreaming?" "why it's geoffry. geoffry vallance! why, geoffry, where on earth _have_ you dropped from?" "er--i was trying to catch up your--er--major winthrop's party--and lost my way," he answered stupidly--rubbing his eyes in sheer bewilderment. chapter twenty three. the "tenderfoot." if yseulte santorex stood lost in amazement at this wholly unlooked-for meeting, there was really considerable excuse for some upsetting of her mental poise. beyond a brief and formal farewell in the presence of her family, she had not seen her former admirer since that passionate and despairing declaration of his in the summer meadows which skirted the pleasant lant, and neither at that time nor since had the faintest idea crossed her mind that he contemplated any such undertaking as western or any other travel. and now here he was, flung, so to say, by fate at her very feet, escaping by the narrowest chance from the hands of hostile savages, the most ruthless in the world. and she had been mainly instrumental in saving him. but geoffry had the advantage of her, in that his surprise was mainly confined to the circumstances and place of their meeting. when he had quarrelled with and separated from the rather worthless guide whom he had engaged at the nearest frontier post, he had reckoned on pushing on so as to overtake major winthrop's outfit in a day at the outside, and having found it, the first part of his object would be accomplished. then he had lost himself, as we have seen, and but for the present opportune meeting his fate was sealed. and now here was the object of his search, more winsome, more beautiful than ever, her loveliness enhanced tenfold by the glorious open-air life she had been leading. but who on earth was her companion? not her brother. george santorex could never have altered beyond recognition within three or four years; besides, he was dark-haired--darker than yseulte herself--and had not the herculean build of this stranger. thus ran geoffry's thoughts as, with half-closed eyes, he lay on the sward, thoroughly done up with fright and exhaustion. vipan, for his part, took no notice of the man whose life he had saved. he saw before him a loosely hung, shambling sort of youth, commonplace of aspect, and in no wise over-burdened with practical intelligence. beyond the first half-bantering, half-contemptuous remark, he hardly seemed to think his new acquaintance worth addressing. nor did he seem to think the unexpected recognition between him and yseulte santorex worthy of notice. "will they attack us, mr vipan?" asked the latter, with a shade of anxiety. for the indians, having finished their consultation, were riding just beyond range, so as to make a wide circuit of the position. "i doubt it. they are going to find our trail leading in here, so as to discover the extent of our force. they will find the trail of two horses, and not having seen you will take for granted that represents two men, instead of one man and a non-combatant. that, with our friend here, makes three. three men with rifles, snugly fixed in a strong position, constitute far too tough a nut for a small force like that to try and crack, and they are only sixteen. no. they will conclude to go away and leave us alone." yseulte gave a sigh of relief. a skirmish would mean bloodshed, and, brave as she was, the idea of seeing men shot down, even in self-defence, could not be otherwise than abhorrent to her. "look," went on vipan, "they have picked up our trail, and--there goes the inevitable white rag." the warriors had stopped, clustered together, and having briefly scrutinised the ground, one of their number rode out, waving a dirty rag on a lance-point. "flourish away, friend," remarked vipan, drily; "i guess we're not going to be drawn by any such childish device." "don't they want to make terms?" said yseulte. "no doubt. but we don't. they know our number. what they want now is to find out our strength--who we are, in short. now there isn't a red on the northern plains who doesn't know me, by sight or intuition, and this time i'm going to let them entertain a tartar unawares; if they try fighting, that is." finding no notice whatever was taken of their signals, the savages again gathered in consultation. then the warrior who had hoisted the white flag advanced from among the rest, and yelled out in broken english: "ha-yah, ha-yah! golden face injun's brudder! good hoss, ole debbil satanta--make big trail. golden face bring out lily white gal. good squaw for injun brudder! ha-yah!" the whole band screamed with laughter, but the insolent buck grinned rather too soon. long as the range was, a ball from vipan's rifle crashed through his shin-bone, and both he and his pony rolled upon the ground; the latter in the throes of death. their mirth changed into a yell of rage; the band scattered, and withdrawing to a more respectful distance, began circling frantically around the position, waving their weapons and bawling out such expletives and coarse expressions as their limited knowledge of anglo-saxon allowed. finally, their vocabulary having given out, they once more collected together, and with a parting jeer rode leisurely away. "there go sixteen as disgusted reds as are to be met on the plains this day," said vipan as the last of the warriors disappeared over the far rise. "and now, miss santorex, sorry as i am to disappoint you, we must put off our picnic _a deux_, or rather _a trois_, and get back to camp as soon as possible. those chaps might fall in with a lot more of their tribe, and double back on us sharp, or half-a-hundred things might happen. so we've no time to lose." vipan was not the man to leave anything to chance, but although no square foot of the surrounding country escaped his keen glance, as they cantered merrily away from the scene of the late _fracas_, not a sign of their recent foes was visible. the vast rolling plains shimmering in the afternoon heat lay silent and deserted, and save that a film of smoke in the far distance, marking the site of the emigrants' camp, was faintly discernible, might have been untrodden by human foot. "by the way, mr--er?" began vipan. "--vallance." "well, mr balance." "er--vallance." "oh, vallance, i beg your pardon. well, mr vallance, i was going to say, what do you think of indian fighting? never saw `mr lo' [note ] on the war-path before, i take it?" "no, never. and i don't particularly care if i never see him again," answered geoffry, flurriedly. "er--you have saved my life, mr--er--?" "vipan." "--mr vipan," he stuttered; "and but for you i should be a dead man at this moment." "not strictly accurate, and that in two particulars," was the quiet reply. "in the first place, you should have said `but for miss santorex'; in the second, you would not have had the luck to be a dead man at this moment. you would be squirming a good deal nearer to a slow fire than is either pleasant or salubrious." geoffry turned pale, nor could he repress a slight shudder as he thought of the ghastly fate from which he had escaped, as it were, by the skin of his teeth. then the sight of his enslaver--so unexpectedly met with, and, like himself, dependent for aid and protection amid the grisly perils of these western wilds, upon this mysterious stranger, who treated him, geoffry, with a patronising and tolerant air which under any other circumstances would have been galling in the extreme--roused a wave of jealousy and distrust in the young man's breast. what the deuce was she doing here, careering about the country with this splendidly handsome desperado? but the latter's next words seemed to solve the enigma. "i reckon you'll follow the crowd next time you feel like running buffalo, miss santorex. i ought not to have exposed you to even this small risk." "a delicate way of reminding me that i've only myself to thank for risking being scalped," she replied demurely, but with a mischievous smile struggling not to break forth. "well, it's perfectly true. i made you take me, and you all agreed it was quite safe. but we killed our buffalo after all--though i didn't like the killing part of it--and i shall never get the chance of a buffalo hunt again. besides," with a glance at geoffry and a serious ring in her voice, "it looks as if we had been sent here on purpose." "i say," sputtered geoffry, staring at vipan, as though bursting with a new idea. "i say, w-were you ever at the 'varsity?" "which 'varsity?" "why, oxford or cambridge, don't cher know. you give me the idea of a man who has been there." "do i? if i was there at all, it must have been rather before you were born," replied the other, imperturbably. "hang the fellow, he needn't be so close!" thought geoffry, with a sullen sense of having been "shut up." but he was glad enough to see safety and comfort in the shape of major winthrop's camp, which lay about a mile distant, between them and the setting sun, although he was conscious of a profound feeling of jealousy and distrust towards the man to whom he owed that safety and comfort. "my partner will show up this evening," said vipan, tranquilly. "in fact i shouldn't wonder if we found him in camp when we arrive, and what's more, he'll know exactly what we've been doing since i joined you." "how on earth will he know?" asked yseulte, wonderingly. "that's just how he will know," was the amused reply. "by looking on the earth. we have a code of our own. but, you'll see, anyhow." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . a western joke, from the passage in pope's essay on man which runs: "lo, the poor indian, whose untutored mind." chapter twenty four. a bomb for the rev. dudley. the rev. dudley vallance sat in his library sorting out the contents of the post-bag. there was his usual correspondence, all of which he knew at a glance, and tossed impatiently aside, and two or three missives in an unknown hand, which met with no greater attention. but that which he sought was not there. not a line from his absent son. more than a month had elapsed since geoffry had started on his travels. to the surprise of his parents, he had as suddenly come round to their plans, and was as ardently ready to go abroad as he had been formerly opposed to the idea. still more to their surprise, he had expressed a firm determination to travel in the united states and nowhere else; and, with an energy wholly foreign to his limp nature, had extorted from them a promise to reveal no word of his intention until after his departure. of course, the reason of this was soon made manifest; yet his indulgent father would not oppose him. and now, for nearly a fortnight, no news of him had been received. to be sure, he had been on the eve of quitting the furthest limits of western civilisation when he last wrote--probably opportunities of communication were few and far between. yet the rev. dudley felt very anxious, very disappointed. mechanically he opened his letters, one after another, but hardly glanced at the contents. even the announcement that a couple of farms would shortly be thrown on his hands--a notice which at any other time would have disturbed his rest for a week--passed unheeded now. suddenly his face paled, and a quick gasp escaped his white lips. he had come to the last letter of all, and it was from his solicitors. we know of nothing more calculated to knock a man out of all time than a wholly unexpected and equally unwelcome communication imparted through the agency of the post. if imparted by word of mouth, he can find some relief in questioning his informant, but when coming through the medium of a letter, especially a lawyer's letter, there is that in the cold, stiff paper, in the precise, hateful characters, as unbending, as inexorable as the very finality of fate. the communication which, even in the midst of his paternal anxiety, had knocked mr vallance so thoroughly out of time, conveyed nothing less than the news that a claimant had come forward to dispossess him of the lant estates, to contest the late squire's will on several grounds, including that of fraud. and the said claimant was no less a personage than the late squire's son. and really it is not surprising that he should have been knocked out of time. in a lightning-flash there passed before him a vision of years of litigation, draining his resources and impoverishing his estate--and that even should things not come to the worst. the tone of his lawyers' letter was not reassuring. this meant that, in their opinion, the claimant had a good case. how good that case might be was a consideration which turned the reverend squire's features a trifle paler. then came a ray of hope. ralph vallance had not been heard of for years, nearer twenty than ten. he had probably gone to the dogs long ago, had joined the ranks of the "shady," and, in keeping with his umbrageous character, was now trying to extort a compromise, or, failing that, a sum of money not to make himself troublesome. but to this happy idea succeeded a darker one, dousing the first as in a rush of ink. probably with the extraordinary luck which now and then befalls the thorough adventurer, ralph was returning a rich man, prepared, out of sheer vindictiveness, to devote a large portion of his wealth to plunging his cousin into protracted litigation, with all its harassing and impoverishing results. this would be about as disastrous, in the long run, as the actual establishment of the claim. again and again he read the hateful missive, until every word of it was burnt into his brain, but he gleaned no comfort. from whatever point he thought it over, the outlook was about as gloomy as it could be. the summer air came into the room in soft and balmy puffs, laden with the scent of roses. he could hear his children's voices on the terrace below, and away over many a mile of rolling down his eye wandered over pleasant pastures alternating with velvety woodland, and yellow corn-fields awaiting the sickle; to the river flashing like a silver streak through the shade of the beeches, where the deer lay in antlered and dappled groups, lazily chewing the cud in the soft and sensuous forenoon. all this was his own, and his son's after him--an hour ago, that is. but now? he saw himself adrift in his old age, and his idolised son drudging miserably for daily bread. he saw the kinsman, in whose place he had for so long stood, ejecting him pitilessly, vindictively; exacting, it might be, all arrears to the uttermost farthing. even after this lapse of years (nearer twenty than ten) he cowered beneath the bitter and burning home-truths which that kinsman had hurled at him, here, in this very room, and his heart quaked and his blood curdled at the promise of a terrible and unlooked-for vengeance with which his kinsman had left him. time had gone by; year had succeeded year; his children growing up, and he himself in undisturbed possession, and the force of these denunciations and threats had become dulled. he had long since come to categorise them in his own mind as the furious vapourings of a desperate and disappointed man. and now they were to bear fruit, to strike him down in his old age, to turn him and his homeless and helpless on the world. the wretched man dropped his head into his hands and groaned aloud. but, the reader will ask, what was the man made of to start by discounting the worst; to throw up the sponge so abjectly at the very first threat of battle? well, there may be something in the adage that conscience makes cowards--of certain temperaments, or there may have been a something underlying the whole affair unknown even to mr vallance's own lawyers, or, possibly, a good deal of both. we can only say: reader, persevere, and discover for yourself. suddenly there floated in upon the summer air a mellow peal of church bells. mr vallance aroused himself. he had forgotten it was sunday, forgotten his anxiety about geoffry, forgotten everything in this new and terrible blow that threatened him. the turning of the door-handle made him fairly start from his chair, so overwrought were his nerves. "the girls have gone on, dudley," said his wife, entering, a sumptuous presence in her church-going attire. "all right, my dear. kindly overtake them, will you? i'll follow you when i'm ready." "but you'll be very late. why, what is the matter?" she broke off, alarmed by his appearance and the huskiness of his tone. then glancing at the pile of newly-opened letters--"is it bad news? not--not about geoffry?" "_no_, not about geoffry; thank heaven for that. there is no word of the boy or his movements. it is--er--merely a very unfortunate and perplexing matter of business. please don't wait for me." those who caught a glimpse of their pastor's face that morning as he swept up the church behind his little procession of choir-boys were startled at the grey, set expression it wore; and when, after several mistakes and omissions in the performance of the service, he brought it to a close without a sermon, the parish--such of it as was present, at least--came to the conclusion that something must have gone very wrong indeed. had mr vallance heard bad news about his son? no, for when the retired jerry-builder, who was also churchwarden, meeting the parson after service, made the enquiry in a sepulchral and sympathising stage-whisper, he met with a very unconcerned answer in the negative. "parson do look main sick, surely" was the verdict of the village, as, represented by its choicest louts, it hung around the churchyard gate, and subsequently at the corners of the roads and lanes, previous to its afternoon sunday loaf among the same. "parson, he be agein', he be." thus the village verdict. "poor mr vallance was looking very ill this morning," remarked mrs santorex at dinner that day. "he could hardly get through the service. everybody thought at first that he had heard bad news of geoffry, but it appears not. in fact, he had heard no news of him at all." "likely enough he has been hard hit in the pocket department," rejoined her lord. "probably, `poor mr vallance' has been dabbling in bubble investments; and his particular bubble has--gone the way of all bubbles. rather rough that he should hear about it on sunday, though, the day of all others when he has to show up in public. so he blundered over the service, did he? well, our shepherd ought to know by this time that he can't serve two masters--ha--ha!" but when later in the afternoon mr and mrs vallance, with a brace of daughters, dropped in, mr santorex felt persuaded that at least one of the quartet had come there with further intent than that of making a mere friendly call, and accordingly he awaited events in a kind of mental ambush congenial to his cynical soul. "any news of yseulte?" asked mrs vallance, rising to depart. "yes. she has fallen in with a major winthrop and his wife. they seem very good sort of people, and the little girl is going to travel under their charge. they are neighbours of my boy george, and are returning to their ranche." "can i have a word with you, santorex?" said the rev. dudley, lingering at the gate, having told his wife and daughters to go on without him. "er--the fact is," he continued, lowering his voice, as the other nodded assent, "the fact is--er--something rather troublesome--a mere trifle that is to say--has occurred to worry me. have you any idea of the whereabouts of ralph vallance?" "not the faintest." "oh. i thought perhaps you might know something about him. i believe you and he were--er--on friendly terms at one time?" "yes, we were. why? have _you_ heard anything about him?" "er--well, i may say this much. i fancy the poor fellow is in need of assistance--if only i knew where he was." "afraid i can't help you to learn. stay. it was only lately i was turning out a lot of old correspondence, and there was a whole bundle of ralph's letters. it was just before chickie went away. i'll hunt them up and see if they afford any clue." the other started. a scared, anxious look came into his face at the mention of the correspondence. "might i--might i just look over those letters?" he asked, eagerly. "h'm. i'm afraid i can hardly agree to that. but if i find anything in them likely to be of service to you i won't fail to let you know." with this, mr vallance was forced to be content. his late host stood shaking his head softly as he looked after his retreating figure, and that cynical half-smile played about the corners of his mouth. chapter twenty five. poor geoffry again. true to vipan's prediction, the first person they met on their return to camp was smokestack bill. leaning against a waggon-wheel, lazily puffing at his pipe, his faithful winchester ever ready to hand, the scout watched their approach as imperturbably as though he had parted with his friend but half-an-hour back, instead of nearly a month ago, when he had watched the latter ride off with mahto-sapa's band into what looked perilously like the very jaws of death. but he could not restrain a covert guffaw as he marked in what company he now met his friend again. "hello, bill! any news?" cried the latter, as they rode up to the waggon corral. "by the way, i must call round and collect that twenty dollars from seth davis." "guess you'll have to trade his scalp to raise it," was the grim reply. "and you'll find it drying in the smoke of an ogallalla _teepe_." "that so?" "it is. couple o' nights after war wolf was run off, a crowd of 'em came along and shot seth in the doorway of his store. then they cleared out all the goods and burnt down the whole shebang. they couldn't nohow get rid of the idea that he'd had a hand in giving war wolf away." "well, we've just stood off a handful of reds." "sho! with the young lady too! say, stranger"--he broke off, turning to geoffry--"are you the `tenderfoot' them reds was after?" "er--yes. but--how did you know?" answered geoffry, staring with astonishment. "struck your trail. but jest before, i'd struck the trail o' them painted varmints. knew they'd jump you, but reckoned you'd make camp 'fore they got within shootin' distance." "you're out of it this time, bill," said vipan. "he'd have been roast beef by now if we hadn't happened along. it was a very pretty chase, though," he added, with a laugh. "our friend here covered the ground in fine style." "bless your heart, stranger, that's just nothing," laughed the scout, noting the offended look which came into the young man's face at this apparently unfeeling comment on the frightful peril from which he had barely escaped. "why, me and vipan there have had many and many such a narrow squeak when we've been out scoutin' alone--ay, and narrower. haven't we scooted for a whole day with a yellin' war-party close on our heels, and no snug corral like this handy to stand 'em off in!" "really!" exclaimed geoffry, open-mouthed. "you bet. them devils were just a lot of young cheyenne bucks out in search of any devilment that might come handy. but you were in luck's way, stranger, this time." smokestack bill was the bearer of news which tended not a little to relieve the travellers' minds. he had thoroughly scouted the country ahead and pronounced it free from indians. he was of opinion that no further trouble need be feared. the sioux, he declared, had quite enough to occupy their attention at home, for they were mustering every available warrior to resist an expected invasion of the troops, and to this end all raiding parties then abroad on the plains had been called in. a council of war on a large scale, together with a grand medicine dance, was to be held at the villages of sitting bull, mad horse, and other chiefs of the hostiles, and it was expected that from twelve to fifteen thousand warriors would assemble. red cloud, spotted tail, and some few other chiefs still remained on their reservations, but the bulk of their followers had deserted and joined the hostiles. the scout was of opinion that they would encounter no considerable body of indians, though their stock might be exposed to the risk of stampede at the hands of a few adventurous young bucks, such as those who had so nearly captured geoffry vallance. the latter's arrival in the camp, or rather the manner of it, was productive of no slight sensation among the more inexperienced of the emigrants. the seasoned western men, however, characteristically viewed the incident as of no great importance, and after one glance at the new comer, tacitly agreed that the advent of a "tenderfoot" more or less constituted but a sorry addition to their fighting force. however, with the consideration and tact so frequently to be found among even the roughest of the pioneers of civilisation, no sign of this was suffered to escape them, and beyond a little good-humoured chaff, and an occasional endeavour--generally successful--to "cram" the "britisher," geoffry had no reason to complain of lack of kindliness or hospitable feeling on the part of the travellers, who, while amusing themselves at the expense of his "greenness," were ever ready and willing to give him the benefit of their experience or lend him a helping hand. by the winthrops the young man was made warmly welcome. the major, glad of such an acquisition as an educated fellow-countryman, pressed him to remain with them until they arrived at their destination, and see something of the west under his own auspices, and his kind-hearted little wife, very much impressed by his tragic escape from such a terrible fate, took the young stranger completely under her wing, and was disposed to make a hero of him. thus the days went by, and the waggon train pursued its slow course over the western plains; now winding around the spur of some high foot-hill of a loftier range; now emerging from the timber belt fringing some swiftly-flowing river, upon a level tableland carpeted with the greenest of prairie-grass, bespangled with many a strange and delicate-hued flower. the exhilarating air, the unclouded blue of the heavens, the danger lately threatening them removed--removed, too, by the sturdy might of their own right hands--infused a cheerfulness into the wanderers. and when the camp was pitched and the waggons securely corralled for the night, many a song and jest and stirring anecdote enlivened the gathering round the red watch-fires. by day the more enterprising spirits would diverge from the route to track the red deer or the scarcer blacktail in the wooded fastnesses of some neighbouring ravine, while the waggons creaked on their slow and ponderous course. to this strange new life geoffry vallance took with a readiness which was surprising to himself. indeed, he would have been thoroughly happy but for one thing. from the moment they had recognised each other, when he reeled panting and exhausted to the ground at her feet, yseulte's demeanour towards him had been one of studied coldness and reserve. she would never address him of her own initiative, and deftly defeated any attempt on his part to be with her alone. the poor fellow was beside himself with mortification; and when he recalled the circumstances of that first recognition, how he had found her alone with the splendidly handsome scout, to his mortification was added a perfect paroxysm of jealous rage. mrs winthrop took in the situation at a glance--indeed, it would have been manifest to a far less clearsighted observer, so transparent were the symptoms in so simple a subject as poor geoffry--and it annoyed her. "i can't think why," she began one day, when the latter was away on some hunting expedition with most of the men, and the two ladies were alone together, "i can't think why you treat the poor fellow so standoffishly, yseulte. i'm sure he worships the very ground you walk on, and you might be a little kinder to him." "really, i don't see that the fact entails upon me a corresponding reciprocity," was the reply, given a little coldly. "there you go with your long words, yseulte. and now you turn the stand-offishness upon me. i only mean, dear, that i want everyone to be friendly and on good terms around. let him say what he wants to say. then give him an answer. that'll fix him one way or another right along, and put everything on a friendly footing again." "would it? supposing i were to tell you, hettie, that geoffry vallance can't take no for an answer, you would retort that you thought the more of him for it. but there is more than that. he should not have followed me out here. it was not right--it was even ungentlemanly. he has taken an unfair advantage in besieging me like this. in fact, he has placed me in a thoroughly false position." "but, dear," mischievously, "so far from following you, it was you who brought him here." "say mr vipan, rather. _i_ am not an indian fighter." then spake hettie winthrop unadvisedly. "well, mr vipan, then. but, yseulte dear, you are always pleasant and cordial enough with mr vipan. naturally the other poor fellow notices it." yseulte turned her grand eyes full upon the speaker, and there was an angry flash in them. these two friends were as near a quarrel as they would ever be likely to arrive. "i don't know what you mean, hettie. mr vipan saved me from the most horrible of fates. am i to show my appreciation by keeping him at arm's length to please geoffry vallance?" "tut-tut! you needn't be so fiery about it," said the other, laughing mischievously. "i didn't mean anything in particular that i know of, and i guess i don't hold a brief for any geoffry vallance." that evening, for the first time since her rescue just alluded to, yseulte was strolling by herself. she had been strangely reserved and silent all day, and now had stolen quietly away to be alone and think. a stream flowed between its fringe of fig and wild plum trees, about two hundred yards off the camp, and now she stood meditatively gazing into the current and thinking with a pang over the loss of her trout-rod. the evening air was lively with many a sound, the screech of myriad crickets, the shout of the teamsters driving in the animals for the night, the occasional cry of a fretful infant, and the wash and bubble of the water flowing at her feet. suddenly the utterance of her own name broke in upon her meditations. there stood geoffry vallance, the expression of his face that of eagerness to make the most of his opportunity. "why do you always avoid me now?" he began, with a quick glance around, as if fearful of interruption, "what have i done that you will hardly speak to me now?" a flush of anger mounted to her face. "have they come back from hunting?" she said, ignoring the question. "no, i came back by myself. i couldn't go on any longer till i knew what i had done to offend you. have i not followed you to the end of another world? and this is how you treat me." she could have struck him. "what an idiot the boy is!" she thought. "father was right. a witless idiot!" "that is just what you have done," she flashed forth. "who gave you any sort of encouragement to follow me to what you are pleased to call `the end of another world'? why did you come here to render me thoroughly ridiculous, to place me in a false position? by what right do you presume to call me to account? answer me that, and then kindly leave me at once." for a moment he seemed thunderstruck, and stood staring at her in blank dismay. then a light seemed to dawn upon him. "i thought, at any rate, that one more to protect you--to stand between you and harm--in this wild country, counted for something. but it seems to constitute an offence. well, i will leave, this very night if you wish it." "nonsense!" was the angry retort. "have you so soon forgotten the result of trying to cross the plains alone? you know perfectly well i don't want you to run any such foolish risk. but you should not have followed me here at all. i thought i had given you a final answer once and for all at lant--" "good evening, miss santorex!" struck in a voice behind them. and vipan raised his hat as he rode by at a foot's pace within a dozen yards of them. so engrossed had they been that they had not heard the hoof-strokes of his horse. a flush came over yseulte's face. could he have heard? she thought. surely he must have. the evening air was so still, and geoffry's voice was of the high "carrying" order. oh, that unlucky geoffry! and for the moment she found it in her heart to wish that he had been left to the tender mercies of the red men. "i can't think how it is," said geoffry, moodily, bringing his glance back from vipan's retreating form to the flushed face of his companion. "i've a dim recollection of having seen that fellow before--how, when, and where is just what puzzles me." yseulte started. if she was thinking the same thing she was not going to say so. she suggested a return to the camp. "and it's my belief," pursued geoffry, with a dash of venom--"my firm belief, that he's a bad hat." "is it?" "yes. i've heard one or two queer whispers about him in the camp. it's said that he's too friendly with the indians." "especially the other day when you and i had the pleasure of meeting. where would you be now but for him, or where should i? i don't think we ought to go out of our way to cultivate a bad opinion of a man who has saved both our lives, do you?" she left him, for they had now reached the camp--left him standing there feeling very sore, very resentful, and thoroughly foolish. yseulte santorex could be very scornful, very cutting, when she chose. chapter twenty six. "at his time of life." "something not quite right there--not quite right. no, sir," said the scout to himself, shaking his head softly as he furtively watched his companion. "and i reckon i can fix it," he added. "lord! lord! to think what we may come to--the most sensible of us as well as the most downright foolishest." vipan, stretched at full length beside the camp fire, smoking his long indian pipe, looked the very picture of languid repose. yet his thoughts were in a whirl. why had he come there?--why the devil had he stayed? the hour was late--late, that is, for those destined to rise at the first glimmer which should tell of the rising dawn--and sundry shapes rolled in blankets, whence emanated snores, betokened that most of the denizens of the encampment were sleeping the sleep of the healthy and the just. the murmur of voices, however, with now and then an airy feminine laugh from the winthrops' side of the corral, told that some at any rate were keeping late hours. "say, bill, i conclude i'll git from here." no change of expression came into the speaker's face. nor did he even glance at him addressed. the words seem to escape him as the natural and logical outcome of a train of thought. "right, old pard. i'm with you there. where'll you light out for?" "i think i'll go to red cloud's village and see what's on. perhaps look in upon sitting bull or mahto-sapa on the way." "there i ain't with you," answered the scout decisively. "better leave the reds alone just now. haven't you been shooting 'em down like jack-rabbits around here, and won't they now be bustin' with murderation to take your hair? no, no." "may be. but i want a change, anyway. so i'm for looking up that _placer_ on upper burntwood creek. the troops won't molest us this time, because all the miners'll have left. besides all available cavalry will be told off against sitting bull." "it's strange that mr vipan hasn't been near us all day," mrs winthrop was saying. "but i suppose he'll clear out as suddenly as he came. these western men are queer folks, and that's a fact." "vipan isn't a western man," answered the major, thoughtfully. "and it's my private opinion he could give a queer account of himself if he chose. sometimes i could swear he had been in the service. however that's his business, not ours." "well, he might be a little more open with us, anyway, considering the time we have been together." "just over a week." "that's as long as a year out here. but i shall be sorry when he does leave us--very sorry." "may i hope that remark will apply to me, mrs winthrop?" said a voice out of the gloom, as its owner stepped within the firelight circle. "it's odd how things dovetail, for as a matter of fact i strolled across for the purpose of taking leave." "oh, how you startled me!" she cried. "of taking leave? surely you are not going to leave us yet, mr vipan? why, we hoped you would accompany us home, and stay awhile, and have a good time generally. you really can't go yet. fred--yseulte--tell him we won't allow it." "why, most certainly, we won't," began the former, heartily. "come, vipan--your time's your own, you know, and you may just as well do some hunting out our way as anywhere else." "of course," assented his wife. "but--i know what it is. we have offended him in some way. yseulte, what have you done to offend mr vipan? i'm sure i can't call to mind anything." "there is no question of offence," protested vipan. "i am a confirmed wanderer, you see, mrs winthrop--here to-day, away to-morrow. the country is clear of reds now, and you will no longer need our additional rifles. if we have rendered you some slight service, i can answer for it, my partner is as glad as i am myself." no man living was less liable to be swayed by caprice than the speaker. yet suddenly he became as resolved to remain a little longer, as he had been a moment before to leave. and this change was brought about by the most trivial circumstance in the world. while he was speaking, his eyes had met those of yseulte santorex. only for a moment, however. when vipan, in his usual laconic manner, informed his comrade that he concluded to wait a bit longer, the latter merely remarked, "right, pard. jest as you fancy." but as he rolled over to go to sleep, he nodded off to the unspoken soliloquy-- "it's a rum start--a darn rum start. at his time of life, too! yes, sir." chapter twenty seven. in the "dug-out." yseulte santorex was conscious of a new and unwonted sensation. she felt nervous. yet why should she have felt so, seeing that this was by no means the first time she had undertaken an expedition _a deux_ under her present escort? but somehow it seemed to her that his tone had conveyed a peculiar significance when he suggested this early morning antelope-stalk at the time of making up his mind to remain. it was a lovely morning. the sun was not an hour high, and the air was delicious. but their success had been _nil_. to account for the absolute lack of game was a puzzle to vipan, but it could hardly be the cause of his constrained taciturnity. yseulte felt nervous. why had he induced her to come out like this to-day? instinctively she felt that he was on the eve of making some revelation. was he about to confide to her the history of his past? her nervousness deepened as it began to dawn upon her what an extraordinary fascination this adventurer of the western plains, with his splendid stature and magnificent face, was capable of exercising over her. a silence had fallen between them. "i want you to see this," said vipan suddenly as they came upon the ruins of what had once been a strong and substantial building. "it's an old stage-station which was burnt by the reds in ' ." there was eloquence in the ruins of the thick and solid walls which even now stood as high as ten or twelve feet in places, and which were still spanned by a few charred and blackened beams, like the gaping ribs of a wrecked ship. the floor was covered with coarse herbage, sprouting through a layer of _debris_, whence arose that damp, earthy smell which seems inseparable from ancient buildings of whatever kind. standing within this relic of a terrible epoch, yseulte could not repress a shudder. what mutilated human remains might they not actually be walking over? even in the cheerful daylight the flap of ghostly wings seemed to waft past her. "if these old walls could speak they'd tell a few queer yarns," said her companion. "look at these loop-holes. many a leaden pill have they sent forth to carry `mr lo' to the happy hunting-grounds. i don't know the exact history of this station, but it's probably that of most others of the time. a surprise--a stiff fight--along siege in the `dug-out' when the reds had set the building on fire--then either relief from outside, or the defenders, reduced by famine or failure of ammunition, shooting each other to avoid capture and the stake." "horrible!" she answered, with a shiver. "but what is a `dug-out'?" "let's get outside, and i'll tell you all about it. look--you see that mound of earth over there," pointing to a round hump about a score of yards from the building, and rising three or four feet above the ground. "well, that is a roof made of earth and stones, and therefore bullet and fire proof. it is loop-holed on a level with the ground, though it's so overgrown with buffalo-grass that the holes'll be choked up, i reckon. this roof covers a circular hole about ten or twelve feet in diameter, and just high enough for a man to stand up in. it is reached by a covered way from the main building, and its object was this:--when the reds were numerous and daring enough they had not much difficulty in setting the building on fire by throwing torches and blazing arrows on the roof, just as they threw them into our camp the other day. then the stage people got into the `dug-out,' and with plenty of rations and ammunition could hold their own indefinitely against all comers. the `dug-out' was pretty nearly an essential adjunct to every stage-station, and a good many ranches had them as well. and now, if you feel so disposed, we will try and explore this one, and then it will be time to start camp-wards." she assented eagerly. first going to the mound, the removal of the overgrowth of grass revealed the loop-holes. "it is like looking into the _oubliettes_ of a mediaeval castle," said yseulte, striving to peer through the apertures into the blackness beneath. "now come this way," said her companion, leading the way into the building once more. a moment's scrutiny--then advancing to a corner of the building he wrenched away great armfuls of the thick overgrowth. a hole stood revealed--a dark passage slanting down into the earth. "wait here a moment," he said. "i'll go in first and see that the way is clear." the tunnel was straight and smooth. once inside there was not much difficulty in getting along. but it suddenly occurred to vipan that he might be acting like a fool. what if he were to encounter a snake in this long-closed-up _oubliette_, or foul air? well, for the latter, the matches that he lighted from time to time burnt brightly and clear. for the former--he was already within the "dug-out" when the thought struck him. he glanced around in the subterranean gloom. it was not unlikely that the floor of the tomb-like retreat might be strewn with the remains of its former owners, who had perished miserably by their own hands rather than fall into the power of their savage foe. but no grim death's-head glowered at him in the darkness. the place was empty. quickly he returned to his companion. "it's pretty dark in there," he said. "think you'd care to undertake it? it may try your nerves." but yseulte laughingly disclaimed the proprietorship of any such inconvenient attributes. she was resolved to see as much wild adventure as she could, she declared. nevertheless, when she found herself buried in the earthy darkness as she crawled at her companion's heels, she could not feel free from an inclination to turn back there and then. but when she stood upright within the underground fortress, and her eyes became accustomed to the half-light, she forgot her misgivings. "how ingenious!" she cried, looking first around the earthy cell and then out through the loop-holes. "now, let's imagine we are beleaguered here, and that the savages are wheeling and circling around us. we could `stand them off'--isn't that the expression?--till next week." "and then if nobody came to get us out of our fix next week?" "oh, then we could hold out until the week after." "you think that would be fun, eh?" "of course," she answered, her eyes dancing with glee in response to his queer half-smile. "h'm. well i'm very glad there's no chance of your undergoing the actual experience," he answered drily, turning away to gaze out on the surrounding country, but really that she should not see the expression that swept across his face. for it had come to this. rupert vipan-- adventurer, renegade, freebooter--a stranger, for many a year, to any softening or tender feeling--a man, too, who had already attained middle age--thought, as he listened to her words, how willingly he would give the remainder of his life for just that experience. to be besieged here for days with this girl--only they two, all alone together--himself her sole protector, with a violent and horrible death at the end of it, he admitted at that moment would be to him paradise. yet a consciousness of the absurdity of the idea struck him even then. who was he in her eyes, in the eyes of those around her, her friends and protectors? an unknown adventurer--a mere commonplace border ruffian. and--at his time of life, too! "were you ever besieged in one of these places?" asked yseulte. her voice recalled him to himself. "once," he answered. "in ' , on the smoky hill route, four stagemen and myself. the reds burnt us out the first night, and we got into the dug-out. it was wearisome work, for they preserved a most respectful distance once we were down there. they wouldn't haul off, though. so one man kept a look-out at the loop-holes, while the rest of us played poker or varied the tedium by swapping lies." "doing what?" "oh, exchanging `experiences.' tall twisters some of them were, too. well, by the third night we got so sick of it that we made up our minds to try and quit. the reds were still hanging around. we needn't have, for we had plenty of rations and ammunition, but the business was becoming so intolerably monotonous. well, we started, and the upshot was that out of the five, three of us fell in with a cavalry patrol the next evening, having dodged the reds all day, each of us with an arrow or two stuck more or less badly into him, and the cheyennes went home with a brace of new scalps. otherwise the affair was tame enough." "tame, indeed? but you tell it rather tamely. now, how did the indians first come to attack you? you left that out." "did i? oh, well, i happened to discover their propinquity, and concluded to warn the stage people. the red brother divined my intention afar off, and came for me--and them." "you ought to be called the providence of the plains," she said, with a laugh that belied the seriousness of her face. "there, i christen you that on the spot." "that would be a good joke to tell them over in henniker city! but to be serious, in these latter days i never go out of my way to spoil the red brother's fun. none of my business, any way." "but you made an exception in favour of us. i don't believe you are talking seriously at all." "you don't?" he echoed, turning suddenly upon her, and there was that in his tones which awed her into wonder and silence. "you don't? well, let me tell you all about it. it was you, and you alone, who saved every soul in that outfit from the scalping-knife and the stake. i sighted your party straggling along just anyhow, and i'd already been watching the sioux preparing to ambush it. then while promising my self a good time lying up there on the butte, and looking on at the fun, i chanced to catch sight of--you. that decided the business. instead of assisting at a grand pitched battle in the novel character of a spectator, i elected to warn your people. otherwise--ambling along haphazard as they were--they'd have lost their head-coverings to a dead certainty. that is how you saved them." "what! you would have done nothing to warn them? i cannot believe it." "wouldn't have lifted a finger. why should i?" he broke off, almost angrily. "what interest had i in a few ranchmen and bullwhackers more or less? they were no more to me than the painted savages lying in wait to scalp them. stop, you were going to say something about colour, religion, and all that sort of thing. but a white skin as often as not covers as vile a nature as a red one, and for the other consideration look at its accredited teachers. about as good christians as the average sioux medicine-man, neither better nor worse. it was a blessed good thing, though, that i had a first rate field-glass on that occasion." she raised her eyes to his as if expecting him to continue, and they seemed to grow soft and velvety. but he did not continue. instead, he had taken a rigid attitude, and appeared to be listening intently. "what can you hear?" she began, wonderingly. but the words died away on her lips, and she grew ashy pale as her dilated glance read her companion's face in the gloomy half-light of the "dug-out." no need to pursue her enquiry now. for, audible to both, came a dull muffled roar, distant, faint, but of unmistakable import. even yseulte did not require her companion to explain the sound. even she recognised in the long, dropping roll the heavy discharge of firearms. chapter twenty eight. a terrible drama. the waggon train had just pulled out. winding along over the wide prairie came the string of great cumbrous vehicles, their white tilts gleaming in the morning sunshine, the monotonous creaking of their axles mingling with the cheery shout of the "bullwhackers" and the crack of whips. here and there along the line rode horsemen in twos and threes, some leading spare horses, others giving a general eye to the progress of the train. squads of children chattered and squabbled in the waggons, a shrill feminine voice now and again rising high in remonstration. women sat placidly sewing or knitting--indulging too in gossip--of which perhaps yseulte santorex was the subject more frequently than she would have guessed or approved. all were in good spirits, for their journey was nearing its end. no room was there for apprehension either, for they had now reached the extreme limits of the sioux range. so far from all minds was any thought of danger that even scouting precautions had been of late very much relaxed. thus they journeyed. "there's something moving away there on the bluff, dave," said winthrop, suddenly, shading his eyes. "d'you say so, colonel?" answered the cowboy, who with his employer and mate was riding some little way ahead of the train. "likely enough it's smokestack bill coming back. he started off in that direction before daybreak to hunt." they were skirting a range of low round-topped bluffs, on one of which had appeared the object which attracted winthrop's attention. "it's gone now," said the latter, still gazing intently. "i could have sworn it was somebody's head." "oh, thunder! look!" said the cowboy, quickly reining in his horse with a jerk. well might even his stout heart--the heart of every soul in that company--die away. for the crest of the bluff was by magic alive with mounted figures. a great sheet of flame burst forth, and amid the deafening crash of the volley a storm of leaden missiles whizzed and hummed around the ears of the party. oregon dave had uttered his last words. he threw up his arms with a stiffening jerk, and toppled heavily from his saddle. then followed a scene of indescribable terror and confusion. rending the air with their shrill, vibrating war-whoop, a vast crowd of painted horsemen swooped down in full charge upon the doomed and demoralised whites. flinging themselves behind their trained steeds, the sioux delivered their fire with deadly effect, then, recovering themselves in the saddle with cat-like agility, they rode in among their writhing, shrieking victims, spearing and tomahawking right and left. perfectly mad with terror, the draught animals stampeded. waggons were overturned, and their inmates flung screaming to the ground, or crushed and mangled beneath the wreckage. the surprise was complete; the demoralisation perfect. utterly panic-stricken, helpless with dismay, men allowed themselves to be cut down without offering a shadow of resistance. apart from the terror inspired by the suddenness of the onslaught, there was literally not a minute of time wherein to mass together and strike a blow in defence. even the privilege of selling their lives dearly was denied these doomed ones. the waggon train, pulled out at its full length, offered an easy prey, and along this line, after the first and fatal charge, the warriors, breaking up into groups, urged their fleet ponies; shooting down the wretched emigrants with their revolvers, and ruthlessly spearing such few who, being wounded, instinctively tried to crawl away. whooping, yelling, whistling, brandishing their weapons, they strove to increase the terror of the maddened teams, who, unable to break loose, upset the vehicles wholesale. they goaded the frenzied animals with their lance-points, laughing like fiends if the wheels passed over the bodies of any of the inmates thrown out or trying to escape; and once when a whole family, driven wild with terror, instinctively flung themselves from the creaking, swaying vehicle, which, upsetting at that moment, crushed mother and children alike in a horrible mangled heap beneath the splintering wreckage, the glee of the savages knew no bounds. it was all over in a moment. not a man was left standing--not a man with power in him to strike another blow. all had been slain or were lying wounded unto death. all? stay! all save one. winthrop, alone out of all that outfit, was untouched. but he had better have been dead. his wife! oh, good god! for her to fall into the power of these fiends! there was the light horse waggon; but between himself and it already surged a crowd of skimming warriors. many a piece was aimed at him-- many a bullet sang about his ears, but still he went unscathed. spurring his horse, straight for the waggon he went--straight into the thick of the yelling, whirling crowd. already, searing his ears like molten lead, rose the piercing shrieks of miserable women writhing beneath the scalping-knife, or struggling in the outraging grasp of the victorious barbarians. he sees a number of small bodies flung high into the air--even marks the piteous terror in the faces of the wretched little infants as they fall, to be caught dexterously on the bright lance-points extended to receive them, and the laughing yells of the painted fiends as the warm blood spurts forth and falls in jets upon their hands and persons. all this passes before his eyes and ears as a vision of hell, and more than one of those fierce and ruthless assailants deftly turns his horse away rather than face the awful fury of despair blazing from his livid countenance. one after another falls before his revolver. a moment more and he will reach his wife. then they will both die together by his own hand. the crowd of whirling centaurs seems to give way before him, and with his eye upon his goal he spurs between their ranks. but a roar of mocking laughter greets his ears. the canvas curtains of the waggon-tilt part, and a great savage, hideously painted, springs forth, uttering an exultant whoop as he brandishes something in the air. it is a scalp--the blood trickling freely down the long, shining, silky tress. the whoop dies in the indian's throat. winthrop's ball has sped true. his wife's slayer falls heavily, still grasping in the locked grip of death the relic of the murdered victim. yet, grim as it may seem, the murderer really deserves the gratitude of both. then a thumping blow on the arm sends his pistol flying out of his hand. "how! white colonel," says a gruff voice at his side. "how! crow-scalper big chief. white scalp damn better nor `chuck.' how?" grinning with delight, the gigantic warrior extended his hand in the most friendly fashion; with difficulty curbing the plunges of his excited steed. he felt sure of his prey now. not yet. quick as thought, winthrop had whipped out another pistol--a derringer. but for a timely swerve, crow-scalper would have been sent straight to his fathers. then thinking things had gone far enough, the chief pointed his revolver and shot the unfortunate englishman dead. it was all over in a moment--the firing and the din, the shrieks of tortured women, the dying groans of mortally-wounded men--over in an infinitely shorter time than it takes to narrate. not a man was left alive; and already many a corpse lay where it had fallen, stripped and gory, a hideous mangled object in the barbarous mutilation which it had undergone. some of the indians were busy looting the waggons. others, scattered far and wide over the plain, were in pursuit of the fleeing animals, which had stampeded in every direction. all were in the wildest degree of excitement and exultation. they had mastered the outfit at a stroke, with the loss of only three warriors. they had wiped out their former defeat, and had reaped a rich harvest of scalps. they accordingly set to work to make merry over their plunder. over the worst of what followed we will draw a veil. there were females in that doomed waggon train. where these are concerned the red man, in his hour of victory, is the most brutal, the most ungovernable fiend in the world. singing, dancing, feasting, whooping, the barbarians kept up their hideous orgie. then in furtherance of a new amusement a number of them began to pile together the beams and planks of the wrecked waggons until a huge heap was formed, in shape something like a rough kiln. up to this structure were dragged about a dozen bodies. dead bodies? no; living. men wounded unto helplessness and death, yet still with just the spark of life in them. women, two or three, too elderly or unattractive to fulfil the terrible fate invariably befalling the female captive of the ruthless red man. some of the elder children who had not been speared were also there. all these, bound and helpless, were first deliberately scalped, then flung inside the improvised kiln. fire was applied. drowning the appalling shrieks of their miserable victims in shrill peals of laughter, the whole array of painted and feathered fiends danced and circled around the blazing pyre in an ecstasy of glee. for upwards of an hour this frightful scene continued. then when the anguish of the tortured victims had sunk in death, the savages gathered up their spoils and departed, refraining from setting fire to any more of the wreckage lest the too conspicuous sign of their bloody work should by its volume be visible at a greater distance than they desired. one more tragedy of the wild and blood-stained west. a pack of coyotes, snapping and snarling over their meal of mangled and defaced corpses, whose scalpless skulls shone red and clotted in the sunlight. a cloud of wheeling, soaring vultures, a few piles of charred and shattered wreckage, and many an oozy, shining pool of gore. one more frightful massacre. one more complete and ruthless holocaust to the unquenchable vendetta ever burning between the unsparing red man and his hated and despised foe, the invading white. chapter twenty nine. thermopylae. "the camp is attacked," said yseulte, not even pausing to brush off the dust which had gathered upon her clothing during her passage into and out of the "dug-out." "i'm afraid so." both stood eagerly listening. again came the long, crackling roll, this time more dropping and desultory, also more distinct than when they first heard it underground. "how will it end?" she asked. their glances met. in the grave and serious expression of her companion's face yseulte read the worst. "we must hope for the best. meanwhile, my first care must be for your safety, so we must leave this spot at once. see what comes of allowing oneself to get careless. as a matter of fact, we are off the sioux range, and reckoning on that we haven't been scouting so carefully as we ought." "when can we return to the camp?" "not a moment before dark," he replied, wondering if she knew that the chances were a hundred to one against there being any camp to return to. for to his experienced mind the situation was patent. that sudden and heavy fusillade meant a numerous war-party. it also meant a surprise. further, and worst of all, he realised that at the time it took place the waggon train would have pulled out, in which event the indians would not allow it time to corral. again, the firing had completely ceased, which meant that one of two things had happened. either the assailants had been beaten off; which was hardly likely within such a short space of time. or they had carried the whole outfit at the first surprise; and this he decided was almost certain. but there was no need to break the terrible news to his companion. "can we not wait here?" said the latter. "we could retire into the `dug-out' if they discovered us." "how very near your ideal of fun has come to being realised!" was the reply, with a shadow of a smile. "no, we should stand no chance." it did not escape yseulte that, previous to starting, her escort gave a quick, careful look to her saddlery and girths, pausing to tighten the latter, and her heart sank with a chill and direful foreboding. "you see, it's this way," continued vipan. "it is almost certain that the war-party is a sioux one, probably our old friends crow-scalper and mountain cat. this is the extreme western edge of the sioux range, consequently when the reds quit the scrimmage they are bound to travel north or north-east. so we must put as much space as we can between us and them in the contrary direction. for the same reason, if your friends have whipped them--" he paused abruptly, but it was too late. she turned to him, her eyes dilating with horror. "_if_! oh, tell me the truth. you think they have no chance?" "one can but hope for the best." she turned her face away, and the tears fell thick and fast. she could hardly realise it. her dear friends, under whose protection she had travelled many and many a day, in whose companionship she had been initiated into the delights of this wild new land, and also its perils, now massacred; even at that moment, perhaps, falling beneath the merciless blows of these bloodthirsty savages. she could hardly realise it. her mind felt numb. even the sense of her own peril failed to come home to her. but her companion realised it to the full. this was no time to think of anything but how to neglect no possible means of effecting her safety, yet he could not banish the thrill of triumph which the thought inspired in him that her fate, her very life, was absolutely in his hands. suddenly she turned to him. the black drop of suspicion was corroding her mind. "why did you bring me away from them all this morning?" she said, speaking quickly and in a hard tone. "did you _know_ what was going to happen?" the adventurer's face went ashy white. even she could entertain such suspicions! "you forget, miss santorex. my tried and trusted friend of years is in that outfit. should i be likely to sell his scalp, even if i sold those of _your_ friends?" there was a savour of contempt in the cold incisiveness of his tone that went to her heart. what is baser than the sin of ingratitude? did she not owe her life--and more than her life--to this man already, and now to be flinging her pitiable and unworthy suspicions at him! would she ever recover his good opinion again? "forgive me!" she cried. "forgive me! i hardly knew what i was saying." and she burst into tears. even yet she would hardly believe but that her fellow-travellers would succeed in holding their own. young though the day was, the torrid rays of the sun blazed fiercely down upon the great plains. some distance in front rose a rugged ridge, almost precipitous. the only passage through this for many miles was a narrow canon--a mere cleft. beyond lay miles and miles of heavily-timbered ravines, and for this welcome shelter vipan was making. this plan he explained to his companion. "look! what are those?" she cried, growing suddenly eager. "indians? no. wild horses? i didn't know there were any wild horses in these parts." save for a scattered line of brush here and there, the great plains until they should reach the defile above referred to were treeless, and presented a succession of gentle undulations. nearly a mile distant, seeming to emerge from one of these belts of brush, careering along in a straggling, irregular line converging obliquely with the path of the two riders, came a large herd of ponies. it almost looked as if the latter were bent on joining them. yseulte did not see the change in her companion's face, so intent was she on watching the ponies. "get your horse into a gallop at once, but keep him well in hand," he said. but before she could turn to him, startled, alarmed by the significance of his tone, the sudden and appalling metamorphosis which came over the scene nearly caused her to fall unnerved from her saddle. by magic, upon the back of each riderless steed there started an upright figure, and, splitting the stillness of the morning air with its loud fiendish quaver, the hideous war-whoop went up from the throats of half a hundred painted and feathered warriors, who, brandishing their weapons and keeping up one long, unbroken, and exultant yell, skimmed over the plain, sure of their prey. "keep quite cool, and don't look back," he said. "we've got to reach that canon before they do--and we shall. the war-pony that can overhaul old satanta when he's in average working order has yet to be built." so far good, so far true. but the same would not precisely hold good of yseulte's palfrey, which steed, though showy, was not much above the average in pace or staying power. the race was literally one for life, and the pace was terrific. to the girl it seemed like some fearful dream. sky and earth, the great mountain rampart reared up in front, all blended together in rocking confusion during that mad race. the yells of the pursuing barbarians sounded horribly nearer, and the pursued could almost hear the whistle of their uncouth trappings as they streamed out on the breeze. vipan, reaching over, lashed her horse with a thong which he detached from his saddle. the animal sprang forward, but the spurt was only momentary. and the war-ponies were horribly fresh. nearer, nearer. the great rock walls dominating the entrance to the pass loomed up large and distinct. again he glanced back at the pursuers. yes, they were gaining. it was more a race than a pursuit-- the goal that grim rock-bound pass. even should the fugitives reach it, what then? their chances would still be of the slenderest. ah, the horror of it! yseulte, white to the lips, kept her seat by an effort of will, her heart melting with deadly fear. her companion, fully determined she should never fall alive into the hands of the savages, held his pistol ready, first for them, then for her, his heart burning with bitter curses on his own blind and besotted negligence. it was too late now. they were to founder in sight of land. ah, the bitterness of it! bang! the whiz of a bullet, simultaneously with a puff of blue smoke--this time in front. vipan ground his teeth. there was no escape, they were between two fires. but the regular thunder of the pursuing hoofs seemed to undergo a change. what did it mean? bang! then a glance over his shoulder told him that as the second ball came whizzing into their midst, the painted warriors had swerved, throwing themselves on the further side of their horses. only for a moment, though. realising that this new enemy represented but a single unit, they hurled themselves forward with redoubled ardour, yelling hideously. "the gulch, pardner! streak for the gulch!" sung out a stentorian voice; and sending another bullet among the on-rushing redskins, this time with effect, smokestack bill kicked up his horse, which had been lying prone, and in half a minute was flying side by side with his friend. short though this check had been, yet it had given them a momentary advantage. but, now, as they neared the mouth of the pass, it became clear to these two experienced indian fighters that one of them must give his life for the rest. "take the young lady on," said the scout. "you're in it together, and must get out of it together. reckon i'll stand them back long enough for you to strike cover." here was a temptation. vipan knew well that it was so. a short ten minutes would save her--would save them both. his friend could hold the bloodthirsty savages in check for more than that. a struggle raged within him--a bitter struggle--but he conquered. "no, no, old pard. i'm the man to stay," he answered, slipping from his saddle, for they were now at the entrance of the pass. "good-bye. take her in safe." it was no time for talking. the pursuers, rendered tenfold more daring by the prospect of the most coveted prize of all--a white woman--were almost on their heels, the rocks re-echoing their exultant yells. yseulte's horse, maddened with terror and stimulated by a shower of blows from the scout, bounded forward at a tearing gallop. "wait, wait! we cannot leave him like this! we must turn back!" she cried, breathless, but unable to control her steed, which was stampeding as though all the sioux in the north-west were setting fire to its tail. "help me! help me to turn back!" she cried, in a perfect frenzy of despair. "we have deserted him--left him to die!" left alone, the bold adventurer felt no longer any hope, but in its stead he was conscious of a wild elation. his death would purchase _her_ safety, and death was nothing in itself, but every moment gained was of paramount importance. carefully he drew a bead on the charging warriors and fired. a pony fell. another rapid shot. this time a human victim. this stopped their headlong rush, and still wheeling in circles they hesitated to come nearer. he glanced around. overhead, the slopes, almost precipitous, offered many a possible hiding-place. he might even escape--but he was not there for that. he was there to hold back the enemy--till night, if necessary. the day wore on. the sioux, who had drawn off to a distance, seemed in no mood to renew the attack. they were resting their ponies. suddenly he saw a score of them leap on horseback again and ride rapidly away. what could this mean? a shadow fell between him and the light. there was a hurtling sound--a crash--and before he could turn or look up, the whole world was blotted out in a stunning, roaring, heaving sea of space. then faintness, oblivion, death. chapter thirty. "i would rather have died with him." not till they had covered at least two miles could yseulte santorex regain the slightest control over her recalcitrant steed. in fact, in her fatigue and nervousness it was as much as ever she could do to keep her seat at all. at length, panting and breathless, she reined in and turned round upon the scout, who had kept close upon her pony's heels. "i am going back," she cried, her great eyes flashing with anger and contempt. "i would sooner die than desert a--a friend." "not to be done, miss," was the quiet answer. "vipan said to me the last thing--`bill, on your life take her safe in.' and on my life i will. you bet." yseulte looked at him again. a thought struck her and she seemed to waver. "see here, miss," went on the scout. "vipan and i have hunted and trapped and prospected together and stood off the reds a goodish number of years. we are pardners, we are, and if he entrusts me with an undertaking of this kind, i've got to see it through. same thing with him. so the sooner we reach fort vigilance, where i'm going to take you, and you're safe among the people there, the sooner i shall be able to double back and try what can be done for vipan." "oh, i never thought of that. pray do not let us lose a moment." "so. that's reasonable. you see, miss, it's this way. women are terrible dead-weights when it comes to fightin' indians. the varmints'll risk more for a white woman than for all the scalps and plunder in this territory rolled together. no. like enough, now that you're snug away, they'll turn round and give up my pard as `bad medicine.' i reckon there ain't a man between texas and the british line knows indians better than my pardner. one day he's fighting 'em, another day he's smokin' in their lodges. he knows 'em, he does." with this she was forced to be content. loyalty to his friend thus moved him to reassure her, but, as a matter of fact, the honest scout felt rather bitter towards this girl. he blamed her entirely for his comrade's peril. he had narrowly watched that comrade of late, and accurately gauged the state of the latter's feelings. why had this fine lady come out there and played the fool with his comrade--the man with whom he had hunted and trapped for years--with whom he had fought shoulder to shoulder in many a fierce scrimmage with white or red enemies? they had stood by each other through thick and thin, and now this english girl had come in the way, and to satisfy her vanity had sent vipan to his death--his death, possibly, amid the ghastly torments of the indian stake. she would probably go home again and brag of her "conquest" with a kind of patronising pity. in silence they kept on their way--the scout's watchful glance ever on the alert. suddenly his companion's voice aroused him from the intensity of his vigilance. he started. "tell me," she said. "what chance is there of rescuing your friend?" her tone was so calm, so self-possessed, that in spite of the deathly pallor of her face it deceived the worthy scout. he felt hard as iron towards her. "about as much chance, i judge, as i have of being elected president," he replied, gruffly. "and now i want you to know this--if you hadn't troubled your dainty head about my pard, he wouldn't be where he is now. and mind me, if it hadn't been for him, where d'you think you'd be to-day? you'd be wishing you were dead. you'd be doin' scavenger work in a sioux village, leading a dog's life at the hands of every sooty squaw in the camp--if it hadn't been for vipan. and now if the lord works an almighty miracle and i get my pard clear of the red devils, maybe you won't say overmuch to him if you meet him--won't be over-anxious to say you're glad to see him safe and sound again--" the speaker pulled up short, staring blankly at her. she had burst into a wild storm of sobs. "you are unjust. oh, god! oh, god! send him back to me!" then turning to the dumbfoundered scout, and controlling herself to speak firmly: "listen. if it would save his life i would cheerfully undergo death at this moment. i would suffer the slow fire or anything. think what you like of me--god knows i speak the truth." "say that again, miss," stammered the other. "well, i ask your pardon. i allow i don't know shucks of the ways of women. if it's to be done, my pard'll be brought out. what shall i tell him if so be i find him?" he added, as if struck with a bright idea. "tell him," and her voice shook with a tenderness she now no longer cared to conceal, "tell him to come straight to me wherever i am. and if--ah, i cannot think of it--i would rather have died with him!" thus the secret of her tortured heart escaped her in that cry of anguish; not to a sister woman, but to the rough and weather-beaten frontiersman who was piloting her across that grim and peril-haunted wilderness. again she relapsed into silence, and her escort noted that her tears were falling thick and fast. suddenly she asked about the attack upon the waggon train. smokestack bill felt in a quandary. she had gone through so much already, she still had need of all her strength, all her nerve, before she should reach the distant frontier post to which he was guiding her. what would happen if he were to tell her the horrible news that they two were the sole survivors of the ill-fated caravan; that he owed his escape from the hideous massacre to the same cause as she did her own-- accidental absence? he felt unequal to the task, and evaded the necessity of replying by the invention of a somewhat cowardly pretext, to wit, the imperative advisability of preserving silence as far as possible. chapter thirty one. a race for--death. when vipan recovered consciousness he found himself unable to stir. a lariat rope was tightly coiled around him from head to foot, binding his arms to his sides, and rendering him as helpless as a log. he tried to move, but an acute pain shooting through his head seemed to crush him again, and he half closed his eyes, stunned and confused. a dark face peered into his. a tall indian was bending over him. in the grim painted lineaments he recognised, to his astonishment, the countenance of war wolf. "ha, golden face. you feel better now? good! we will start." he made no reply. glancing around him, he noted that the warriors were making their preparations to move. the ponies, which had been grazing all ready saddled, were caught; and at a sign from war wolf two of the indians proceeded to loosen the lariat rope in such wise as to allow him the use of his legs. "now, mount," said one of them, as his fellow led a pony alongside of the captive, who surveyed his steed designate with a dubious air. "that sheep isn't up to my weight," he said. "he will carry you as far as needful," was the reply, ominous in its grim brevity. "quick, mount." as he turned to obey a wild thought rushed through the adventurer's mind. could he not seize the opportunity to make a dash for it? his wily guards must have read his thoughts, for, catching his eye, they shook their heads with a ferocious grin. then with a raw hide thong they secured their prisoner's feet beneath the horse's belly, and one of them winding the end of the lariat rope which served as a bridle round his hand, the band started. ever with a keen eye to opportunity, vipan noted two things--one that the band had undergone diminution by at least half its original number, the other that they were travelling almost due north-east. the halt had been made not many miles from the fatal gorge, whose frowning entrance he could just see as he turned his head. no one could be more thoroughly aware than himself of the desperate strait into which he had fallen. he had witnessed more than one instance of men taking their own lives at the last critical moment to avoid capture and its inevitable sequel, a lingering death amid tortures too horrible to name. and now even that alternative was denied to him. the opportunity was past and gone. "ha, golden face," said war wolf, ranging his horse alongside his prisoner. "you thought i should have been hung before this." "well, yes, i did. how did you manage to get clear?" then the savage, in fits of laughter, narrated all that had befallen him at fort price; how, after a time, he had been allowed a certain amount of guarded liberty, and how he had deftly managed to disarm the sentry and make his escape. it was a bold exploit, and so his listener candidly told him. "ha!" cried the warrior, chuckling and swelling with inflated vanity, "i am a man. even the stone walls of the mehneaska cannot hold me. i laugh, and down they go!" several of the indians gathered around, and the conversation became lively. no one would have thought that this white man in their midst, with whom they were chatting and laughing so gaily was a prisoner, doomed to the most barbarous of deaths at their hands. the conversation turned on his own capture, and, in a nonchalant way, vipan asked for particulars of that feat. "ha! burnt shoes is not a fool," said war wolf. "he is my brother." the warrior named grinned, and at a word from the chief he narrated how he had slipped away from the main body, and, unobserved by the prisoner, had gained the rocks over the latter's head. when he was ready he had signalled to his fellows, who had made that unexpected move in order to fix the prisoner's attention. he could easily have shot his enemy, but the temptation to take him alive was great. therefore, seeing a convenient boulder handy, he had hurled it upon his enemy's head, with the most satisfactory result to himself and his tribesmen. "but," added this candid young barbarian, "your scalp will be mine, anyhow." vipan took no notice of this remark. he knew the speaker by sight apart from having recognised him as war wolfs brother. then he asked what had become of satanta. here the indians looked foolish, at least most of them did, while those who did not, unmercifully chaffed their companions. it came out that the black steed objected to the new ownership which it was purposed to assert over him, and watching his opportunity, which occurred while his saddle was being changed during the recent halt, had concluded to part company with the band. in a word, he had started off as fast as his legs could carry him. but several warriors had gone after him, added the speaker. "they are after a shooting star, then," said satanta's lawful owner. "they had the best horse in the north-west, and they have let him slip through their hands." the party had been travelling at a rapid pace, and now the day was merging into twilight. despatching pickets to neighbouring heights, the savages prepared for a good long halt. vipan was released from his steed, and allowed to seat himself upon the ground by the side of a fire that had been built. his captors crowded round him, laughing and talking in the friendliest fashion, and, noting it, his heart sank within him. and who shall blame him? bound and helpless, he knew the moment had come for putting him to the most hellish tortures. he read it in the grim, painted visages closing him in on every side. and between those ruthless demon-faces he beheld in the background a sight whose meaning he knew but too well. two indians were busy driving strong pegs into the ground at intervals of several feet apart. then he did a strange thing. quick as thought, and without any warning, he spat full into war wolfs face. with a yell of rage, the young chief, starting back, swung his tomahawk in the air. in another instant the prisoner would have gained his wish. he intended to exasperate the indian into killing him on the spot. but the others were wider awake. seizing their chiefs arm, a couple of bystanders succeeded in arresting the blow. then half-a-dozen sinewy warriors flinging themselves upon vipan began to drag him towards the pegs aforesaid. a barbarity popular among the plains' tribes is that known as "staking out." the wretched captive is stripped and thrown on his back. each hand and foot is then fastened to a peg driven firmly into the ground at the necessary distance apart. thus spread-eagled, he is powerless to stir, beyond a limited wriggle. then the fun begins, and when is remembered the hideous agony that a handful of live coals stacked against the soles of a man's feet alone is warranted to produce, it follows that the amount of burning at the disposal of the red demons before death mercifully delivers the victim from their power is practically unlimited. in fact, their hellish sport may be bounded not by hours, but even by days. they generally begin by roasting the tenderest parts of the body, finally piling up the fire all over the stomach and chest of the sufferer. vipan, aware of the fate in store for him, seized his opportunity. while the savages were slightly relaxing their grasp in order to pull off his clothes, he made one stupendous effort. cramped as he was, his herculean strength stood him in good stead. a couple of violent kicks in the stomach sent as many warriors to the earth gasping, and dragging others with them in their fall. like a thunderbolt he dashed through the group, and before his enemies had recovered from their confusion he was many rods away, speeding down the hillside like a deer. a frightful yell went up from the startled redskins. a score of rifles covered the flying fugitive, but a peremptory word from war wolf knocked them up. their prisoner was safe enough, no need to spoil sport by killing him. though his legs where free, his arms were bound. a rush was made for the ponies. the plain was open for miles and miles. in five minutes they would retake him with ease. of this vipan was only too well aware. the chances of escape had never entered into his calculations when he made his wild attempt. on foot and unbound he might have distanced the savages, but what chance had he against their ponies? a water-hole lay in the bottom, a mile away. he would strive to reach this, and, bound as he was, an easy death by drowning would be the alternative to hours of fiery torment. and as he ran it seemed to the hunted man that this was no real occurrence--only a horrid nightmare. the events of a lifetime shot through his mind. then the thunder of flying hoofs behind. he glanced over his shoulder. would he reach the water? ah, never did hunted man strain every nerve and muscle for life as did this one with death before him as the prize. nearer! the water-hole gleams cool and inviting. a hundred yards--then fifty. the roar and thunder of hoofs is in his ears. it stuns him. now for the final leap. then death! twenty steps more. he poises himself for the final spring. but it is not to be. the coil of a lazo has settled around him; he is jerked from his feet, dragged back a dozen yards--stunned, half senseless. then, as he wearily opens his eyes, doubtful whether he is dead or alive, he finds himself in the midst of a crowd of indians, all mounted save the half-dozen who have run forward to secure him. with a sensation of surprise, his glance wanders amid the sea of painted visages--of surprise because many of them are known to him, and were certainly not among the band that effected his capture. and--can he believe his ears?--the chief of the party, a fine martial-looking warrior, is giving instructions that his bonds shall be cut. "wagh!" ejaculated the latter, with the ghost of a smile. "you have fallen upon rough times, golden face." then the prisoner, once more a free man, looked up at the speaker and knew that he was safe. he recognised mahto-sapa. and now a great hubbub arose as war wolf and his party rode up, and angrily demanded their prisoner, emphasising their request by making a dash at the latter. but at a sign from the chief a dozen warriors placed themselves in front of vipan. then the debate began to wax very breezy, and small wonder. by every right of immemorial custom and usage, the late prisoner was absolutely their property, and had they not been "choused" out of a rare and exquisitely enjoyable form of sport? vipan, though too far off to hear all that was being said, caught the name "tatanka-yotanka" as mentioned pretty frequently, and it seemed to have the effect of a damper on war wolf. that impulsive savage, having indulged in a good deal of swagger, ended by sullenly accepting the situation. there is not much hard-and-fast law among indians in a matter of this kind. if the redoubted war-chief of the minneconjou clan, surrounded by a large armed force, chose to retain half-a-dozen prisoners, war wolf, who was not, properly speaking, a chief at all, had no redress, save such as he might attain by force of arms. but his following numbered barely thirty warriors, whereas mahto-sapa was at the head of fully five times that number. dismounting, the minneconjou chief gravely sat down upon the ground. then filling his pipe, and applying a light to the bowl, he handed it to vipan without a word. in silence the latter received it, and after a few puffs handed it back. "what was said just now about sitting bull?" he enquired at length. "this. i have come out to look for you, golden face. sitting bull is anxious that you should visit him." "oho, i begin to see," said the adventurer to himself, as he lazily watched his late captors draw their ponies out of the crowd and ride sullenly away. now, in the debate just held, his rescuer had justified his action on twofold ground. war wolf having allowed his prisoner to escape had forfeited all claim to him; secondly, the said prisoner, being an englishman, his presence was required by sitting bull, the renowned chief of the hostiles, for political purposes. chapter thirty two. the village of the hostiles. all night long--with a brief halt towards morning--the war-party, with vipan in its midst, pushed forward at a rapid pace. the sun rose. they had passed the intricate defiles of the bad lands, and were now threading the rugged and broken country beyond. piled in chaotic confusion, the great peaks leaning towards each other, or split and riven as by a titanic wedge, caught the first red glow upon their iron faces. dark pinnacles soaring aloft, huge and forbidding, stood in the first delicate flush like graceful minarets; and here and there through a vista of falling slopes, the striped and fantastic face of a _mesa_ would come into view, seamed with blue and black and red, according to the varying strata of its soft and ever-crumbling formation. a hundred bizarre shapes reared their heads around. here a clean rock shaft, so even and perpendicular in its towering symmetry that it seemed impossible to have been planned by the hand of nature alone, standing side by side with some hugely grotesque representation of a head, changing from animal to human with every fresh point of view, so distorted yet so real, so hideous and repelling as to suggest involuntary thoughts of a demon-guarded land. there a black and yawning fissure whose polished sides would hardly seem to afford resting-place for the eyrie of yon great war-eagle soaring high above, his plumage gleaming in the lustre of the new-born day. dark, cedar-clad gorges rent the mountain sides, and on the nearer slopes the flash of something white through the tall, straight stems of the spruce firs showed where a deer, alarmed by this redoubtable inroad on his early grazing ground, had darted away, with a whisk of his white "flag." and in thorough keeping with its surroundings was the aspect of the wild host, threading its way through these solitudes. a clear, dashing mountain brook curved and sparkled along a level bottom carpeted with the greenest of sweet grass, and along this, strung out to the distance of a mile, cantered group after group of mounted savages, the fantastic adornments of themselves and their steeds streaming out to the morning breeze; their waving plumes, and painted faces, their shining weapons and brilliantly-coloured accoutrements, and the easy grace with which they sat their steeds as they defiled along the ever-winding gorge, forming about as striking and wildly picturesque a sight as would be happened upon, travel we the whole world over. all fear of pursuit being now over, the warriors rode anyhow, broken up into groups or couples as the humour possessed them. most of them were chatting and laughing with that ease and light-heartedness which in their hours of relaxation is characteristic of most savage peoples, a light-heartedness and freedom from care which renders them akin to children. near the rear of the party rode mahto-sapa and his prisoner, together with three or four warriors of high rank. for that he was such, vipan himself was not left in any doubt, nor was there room for any. though relieved from the indignity of bonds, yet his arms had not been returned to him, not even a knife. moreover, the steed he bestrode was far from being the best in the party. all of which he had hinted as delicately as possible to the chief. the latter's reply was characteristic. "patience--golden face. it is not we who have taken your weapons; it is war wolf and his party. as for horses, my young men are none of them too well mounted. besides," added the indian, a humorous gleam lighting up his fine face as he noted the other's deprecatory shake of the head, "besides--golden face has shamefully neglected his red brothers since the mehneaska waggons came along. why do they bring beautiful white girls into a country where the ground is too rough for their tender feet? no. have patience. my young men would be more than angry did you leave them now to go and look after a white woman. she is safe now, but both she and the brown beaver would have fallen into the hands of war wolf had you not acted as you did," he continued. "wagh! golden face, it is not like you to throw away your life for a squaw!" the adventurer made no reply, but the other's remark set him thinking. it left, so to say, an unpleasant taste. he was at an age when most men have parted with their illusions, and he himself certainly was no exception. to his keen, cynical nature absolute trust was well-nigh impossible. would he ever see yseulte santorex again, and even if he did, would he not be in the same position as before--a king in these western wilds, in civilisation a pauper? he knew the world--none better. it was one thing for this beautiful and refined girl to feel drawn towards a companion and protector in the midst of the perilous vicissitudes of western travel, but that after months of reflection on her return to safety and comfort she should still continue to think of a man whose antecedents were doubtful, of whose very identity she was ignorant, in the face, too, of the opposition of friends and relatives, was quite another. for long he rode in silence, and his thoughts were very bitter. all day the march continued. that night the indians, being comparatively beyond fear of pursuit, camped for a long rest, and resuming their progress at dawn, towards nightfall reached the bank of a river. this was immediately forded, and then halting on the opposite bank the whole band collected together. then, after a word of instruction from their chief, the warriors formed into line, and with a loud and prolonged whoop dashed forward at a brisk canter. the shout was answered from some distance ahead, and lo! as by magic, there sprang up the red glow of many a fire, and among the thinly-scattered timber bordering the stream tall lodges might be descried, standing in groups or in long irregular lines, hundreds and hundreds of them. then in the gloaming the whole village swarmed with dusky shapes. squaws flung down their burdens, or abruptly quitted their household employments, and, dancing and singing, crowded around to welcome the returning war-party. young bucks, eager to know what had been done in scalps and plunder, turned out by the dozen. children yelled and curs barked and howled, and still the ever-increasing crowd gathered about the returned warriors. suddenly the latter, reining in their ponies, burst into a wild war-song. it was taken up by the motley crowd following upon their ponies' heels, and as the savage horsemen, in all the trappings of their martial bravery, paced at length into the centre of the village, the shrill, weird chorus echoing from many thousand throats, while the red light danced and glowed upon plumed crests and burnished weapons rising above the sea of fierce painted visages, the bold mind of the white adventurer was filled with admiration as he gazed upon this stirring picture which for grandeur and awesomeness left nothing to be desired. thus they entered the camp of the hostiles. "listen, golden face," said mahto-sapa, as he spread a buffalo robe for his guest. "it will not be well to wander in the camp alone." "no, i am a prisoner, and unarmed." the other smiled slightly, with a significant glance at an old leathern wallet hanging to the pole. then he left the lodge. the adventurer, following his glance, promptly explored the receptacle. he found an old single-barrelled pistol and a scalping-knife. the pistol was capped and loaded. chapter thirty three. sitting bull. the morning after his arrival in the village of the hostiles vipan was seated eating his breakfast in the lodge of his host, in company with the latter and one of his brothers, when the door of the _teepe_ was darkened, and an indian entered. now there was nothing in the appearance of this warrior to denote special rank. his dress was strikingly plain, the beaded blanket thrown around his shoulders was considerably the worse for wear, not to say shabby, and his head was adorned with a single eagle quill stuck in the back of his hair. yet a glance at the powerful, thickly-built frame, the deep-set, though penetrating eyes, the square jaw and slightly pock-marked countenance, and vipan felt instinctively that this was none other than the redoubtable war-chief of the hostiles himself. with a grunt of salutation, the new arrival sat himself down among the inmates of the _teepe_, then, without a word, and as a matter of course, proceeded to help himself out of the three-legged pot containing the smoking and savoury stew which constituted the repast. not a word was spoken, not a question asked, and the four men proceeded with their meal in silence. tatanka-yotanka, or sitting bull, was at that time in the very zenith of his pride and influence. he represented the fearless and implacable war-faction in the nation, and in his persistent and uncompromising hostility to the americans and the united states government he differed from the more diplomatic red cloud. as in the case of the latter, however, sitting bull was not born to hereditary chieftainship, yet at that time the influence he had achieved among his countrymen by his personal prowess and skilful generalship was so solid and far-reaching that sagacious and powerful war-chiefs such as mahto-sapa deemed it sound policy to co-operate with him; for the authority of a chief among the plains tribes, in addition to his prowess in war, depends not a little on his conformity with the sense and wishes of his tribesmen, and he who should commit himself unreservedly to a peace policy in opposition to the desires of his people would soon find himself in the position of a chief without any adherents. yet as savages rarely do things by halves, it followed that however inclined for peace they might be at first, such chiefs and warriors once they stood committed to war threw themselves into the prosecution of hostilities with all the ardour and aggressiveness of their more bloodthirstily disposed brethren. sitting bull--like many another savage leader--was a shrewd thinker. the experience of the last campaign had inspired him with profound contempt for the united states government. the latter's demands had then been successfully resisted, and after a sharp and sanguinary struggle, culminating in the fort phil kearney massacre, the government had retired, almost precipitately. the sioux nation had never been conquered. the sioux warriors were as daring and warlike to-day as then, and were better armed, for they could obtain, and had obtained, from unscrupulous traders as many weapons of the latest improved patterns and as much ammunition as they could afford to purchase. the government, he reasoned, had not kept faith with them in the matter of the black hills and other sections of their country, then full of white men; therefore, let the government look to itself. that the indian leader's reasoning was sound according to his lights, was proved by subsequent events, among them the calamitous massacre of nearly three hundred brave soldiers, together with one of the most dashing cavalry officers and successful indian fighters the united states army has ever possessed. [note .] but no savage of his race and instincts could be expected to take into his reckoning the steady tide of immigration pouring into the american continent from the old world, for the simple reason that his conception of the very existence of an old world was of so shadowy a nature as to be practically legendary. the meal over, each of the three indians wiped his knife upon his leggings or the soles of his moccasins with a grunt of satisfaction. then the inevitable pipe was filled, lighted, and duly passed round. vipan, thoroughly restored by a good night's rest, and with perfect confidence in himself, looked forward to the keen skirmish of wits which was at hand, and in which the slightest failure in coolness and wariness might cost him his life, with feelings not far short of downright enjoyment. after the pipe had gone round in silence, sitting bull spoke. he had often heard of golden face, the friend of the dahcotah nation, he said. now he was glad to have an opportunity of smoking with him, and learning from his lips. the speaker paused, and vipan merely acknowledged the compliment by a grave bend of the head. the chief continued: golden face, he had been given to understand, had been a great fighting man among his own people, and a leader of warriors. he was not of the mehneaska, the nation with whom no faith could be kept. why, then, had he fought for the mehneaska against his dahcotah brethren? vipan, with due deliberation, replied that those for whom he fought _were_ his own countrymen--not americans. they were subjects of the great white queen, whose dominions lay to the north (canada). why had the dahcotah attacked them and run off their stock? "were they all king george men?" asked the shrewd chief, half closing his eyes and looking into space. this was a staggerer, but vipan was equal to it. "they were not," he said. "only the leader and his household. for the rest, they bore me as little love as they do the dahcotah warriors who ran off their horses and cattle. listen now, and mark." then he graphically narrated the circumstances under which he had warned winthrop's outfit of the lurking war-party, making it appear that his warning had been due simply and solely to his recognition of his fellow-countrymen among the travellers. not a muscle of sitting bull's crafty countenance moved as he listened. "how!" he said, quietly, when the speaker ceased. "did not golden face declare that he owned no nationality?" this was another staggerer, and a more serious one than before. but vipan's imperturbability was of a quality warranted to stand shocks. inwardly he laughed over the other's shrewdness in bringing up his own words in judgment against him. that was true, he replied. but apart from the fact of that particular white man being his fellow-countryman, and therefore one against whom the dahcotah nation had no quarrel, he was the son of a man who had once rendered him a most important service. who worthy of the name and dignity of a warrior ever forgot to requite a good turn once rendered, even at the peril of his life? this answer, if not altogether received as gospel by his hearers, sent him up ten per cent, in their estimation. nowhere is diplomatic talent and readiness in debate held in such high respect as among savage races. "the white girl who hunted with golden face is very beautiful," went on sitting bull. "was it for her he lifted his rifle against his dahcotah brethren?" "who would not fight for a beautiful woman, be she white or red?" answered vipan, with a burst of well-timed frankness. "sitting bull is a great chief, let him judge if my words are straight. did war wolf and his followers come to me as to a friend? no; they attacked me as enemies. then when they treated me as an enemy and an ordinary prisoner of war, did i complain? sitting bull is a great chief, a warrior of renown, but who is war wolf? who is he, i say? enough: i have smoked in council with red cloud and the chiefs of the dahcotah nation. my words are for the ears of chiefs, not for those of boys, who passed the sun-dance but yesterday." the ghost of a smile flitted across sitting bull's grim features at this reply, while a murmur of approbation escaped the other two auditors. no one understood better than the speaker the advantage of making the most of himself among these people, nor was the dexterous compliment to his own eminence thrown away upon the bold and sagacious warrior who had, so to say, risen from the ranks. "but," rejoined the latter, "if the white girl was of the race of king george, with whom we have no quarrel, why did not golden face bring her among his dahcotah brethren, where he might have lived with her in peace and safety?" vipan explained that a white girl such as her of whom they were speaking would never consent to accompany him unless as his wife, and even then she must be married according to the customs of her people. to this the wily chief quoted the case of his friend and brother, mahto-sapa, who had a white wife. she had been taken to wife according to dahcotah custom; and whose lodge was more comfortable than hers; who was cared for better than she? now vipan was aware of the existence of this personage, yet strange to say, bearing in mind his friendship with the minneconjou chief, had never seen her. he was aware, too, that she was originally a white captive, seized by the indians during one of their dreaded raids upon a settlement or waggon train some years previously, but that was the extent of his knowledge. it must be confessed he felt a good deal of curiosity on the subject, but he was not the man to allow any sign of it to appear. his answer, however, was ready and to the point. that might be true, he replied; but it was a matter of which he, vipan, knew nothing, nor did it concern him in any way. what he did know was this: the white girl in question was of very considerable account in her own country. true, most of the warriors in sitting bull's village were his--the speaker's--brethren. but some were not. there were some in it at that moment who looked upon him as an enemy, who had treated him as one. what if he had brought this white girl with him, and she had met-- with harm at the hands of any of these? would not her people require a heavy reckoning? the dahcotah hunting-grounds were bounded on the north by the british line. would it be the act of a friend to do anything which should embroil the dahcotah nation with two strong powers instead of one, in such wise too that they should be surrounded with enemies on every side? he had played a very trump card in making this reply, and he knew it. for he had seen through sitting bull's motives in requiring his presence in the camp of the hostiles, and was resolved to make the most of it; and upon the extent of his success he was well aware that his very life depended. "wagh!" exclaimed the chief, with well-feigned indifference. "the dahcotah people fear the enmity of no one. yet they seek no quarrel with the countrymen of golden face. they have always heard that the king george men have straight tongues, and that the great white queen keeps her promises, and fulfils her treaties with the red tribes within her territory." then followed a good deal of what, for want of a better word, we will call "dark" talking. sitting bull in a series of highly diplomatic hints, and using much figurative language, strove to sound his prisoner as to the probability of the british being induced to espouse his people's cause in the event of the coming campaign ending disastrously to them. vipan, ever mindful of his precarious position as in fact a prisoner, though treated outwardly as a guest, answered cautiously, and to the effect that although the british would be to the last degree unlikely actively to interfere in their favour, yet it would be fatally imprudent to commit any act tending to incur the hostility of the great and mighty power who occupied the northern boundary line of their country, and whose territory, indeed, might yet serve them as a refuge in time of need, for who could foretell the chances of war? at the same time he threw out more than one dexterous hint as to the services he himself might be able to render his dahcotah brethren in the event of any such lamentable contingency. judging that enough had been said for the present, sitting bull arose. "it is well," he said, throwing his blanket round his shoulders, as he prepared to depart. "the counsels of golden face are always good to listen to. his presence is very welcome to his red brethren." judging the moment a favourable one, vipan delicately hinted that so welcome a guest should not be treated in a manner unworthy the dignity of a warrior--in a word, that his weapons should be restored to him. again that ghost of a smile crossed the face of the wily chieftain. "no one could mistake golden face for anything but a warrior," he said, sweetly. "is he not surrounded by his friends, his brothers? who requires to go armed among his friends?" there was nothing for it but to accept the position, and, moreover, to accept it with a good grace. suddenly there arose a terrific din outside--shrieks and yells, shouts of demoniac laughter, and the trampling of many feet. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . general george a. custer, who fell into an ambuscade on the little bighorn river, and perished with his entire command at the hands of the hostile sioux, under sitting bull, on the th june, . chapter thirty four. the two victims. if ever a spectacle of hell let loose was vouchsafed to mortal eye, assuredly it must have borne a strong family likeness to that presented by the indian village, as vipan and the three chiefs stepped gravely outside the _teepe_ to see what was going on. a wild, roaring, yelling crowd came surging into the open space where stood the council-lodge. bucks and squaws, children and dogs, all mingled together in a motley mass, whooping, laughing, chattering and grinning. a sea of wild excited faces, the crowd poured onward, gathering as it rolled. then the cause of all this excitement became discernible. in the front of the throng, in the centre of a group of yelling squaws, hustled, beaten, kicked, dragged along by the bloodthirsty harpies, were two white men. their arms were tightly bound behind their backs, but their feet were tied so as to enable them to make short steps. they had been stripped naked, and their bodies, already lacerated with many a weal, and bruised from the switches and clubs of their tormentors, were plentifully besmeared with their own blood. "wagh, golden face!" exclaimed sitting bull, with grim humour. "our squaws seem to handle your countrymen very tenderly." the adventurer made no reply. even he felt his heart sicken within him at the thought of the hideous fate these two wretched men were about to undergo. yet drawn by an uncontrollable impulse, he found himself moving beside the three indians, who were strolling leisurely in the direction taken by the crowd. not that his red friends manifested any interest in the proceedings. the torture of helpless prisoners was sport for boys and squaws, and unworthy of the attention of great chiefs or warriors of renown. still, with the characteristic weakness of their race to witness anything unusual, they followed the crowd. as the latter thundered along the open space, the inmates of the clustering groups of _teepes_ on either side poured forth to swell its ranks. young bucks would dart out in front, and execute a series of leaps in the air, uttering shrill whoops, and even the river was dotted with bull-boats, as the inhabitants of the villages on the opposite bank crowded over in hundreds to see the fun. knives were flourished in the prisoners' faces, kicks and slaps were their portion at every step; indeed, it almost seemed that the ill-usage of the infuriated mob would mercifully end their sufferings before they should reach the terrible stake. something of this seemed to strike their tormentors themselves, for all of a sudden a compact band of young bucks charged into the mass, drove back the yelling squaws, and seizing the two unhappy wretches, dragged them forward at a smart run. just outside the village was a clear space. here a couple of stout posts, eight or nine feet high, had been driven into the ground about a dozen yards apart. and now vipan had an opportunity of estimating the strength of the band or bands into whose midst he had so involuntarily penetrated. far along the river-banks on either side, extending a distance of five or six miles, the tall lodges stood in lines and clusters among the thin belt of timber which lined the stream. these and the village behind him, roughly reckoning, he estimated to represent some four or five thousand warriors. overhead the great mountains shot up their craggy heads, blasted into a score of fantastic shapes, frowning down upon the barbarous scene like grim tutelaries of destruction. the two miserable men were backed against the posts and firmly secured, their arms being drawn up high above their heads and stretched to the utmost. powerless to move a limb, they were ready for the torturers. suddenly a piercing cry for help burst from one of them. in it vipan recognised his own name. in deference to their rank, the crowd had made way for the chiefs in whose company he was. at a sign from sitting bull, it now gave way further, and vipan was able to approach within easy speaking-distance of the prisoners. "oh, for god's sake, mr vipan, save me from torture! kill me--put me out of my misery at once!" vipan stared at the utterer of this agonised prayer. in the distorted features, cut and bruised out of all knowledge, and livid with the dews of bodily and mental anguish, in the strained eyeballs staring from their sockets in deadly fear, he could hardly recognise the unfortunate geoffry vallance. a curious change passed over the adventurer's face, so curious that even many of the indians standing around noticed it and wondered. "i am the last person in this world, of whom _you_ ought to ask a benefit," he said curtly. had there been time for reflection, poor geoffry might well have been amazed. now, half-frenzied with terror, he only moaned: "save me from the torture! kill me, that is all i ask you!" "i cannot if i would," was the answer, in a more relenting tone. "how did you manage to let them capture you?" "it was the day the camp was taken," gasped the wretched prisoner. "i was lingering behind and got lost, and then my horse ran away when i was dismounted. i don't know how it was, but i looked up and found myself in the middle of the indians." "well, i can do nothing for you. mind me, though. i knew a chap in your position once. he managed to roll his tongue back into his throat and choke himself. he escaped the fire that way. try it. it's your only chance." the despairing moan with which this gloomy alternative was received was drowned by a loud cry from the other white man. "colonel vipan. git us out of this fix, for the lord's sake! i kin put you on to a good thing, i kin!" the adventurer turned in amazement. he saw what was a villainous countenance at the best of times, and now with the shaggy beard matted with saliva and gouts of blood, it was hideous and horrible in the extreme. he recognised the man he had felled in the liquor saloon at henniker city--bitter rube. "how in thunder did you get into this hobble?" he said. "it's this way, colonel. the red devils jumped us at our _placer_. they scalped the other three." "burntwood creek?" "that's it, colonel. you get me out of this, and i'll make you a rich man for life. there's gold there worth millions and millions." "glad to hear it, bitter rube," was the unconcerned reply. "i know the place all right; going to work it by and by. it's where your mate jumped me and got laid out for his pains. remember your scheme to lynch me, eh, bitter rube?" "oh, lord, colonel. it was the other chaps. see here now--" "well, i can't even repay the little service you were going to render me--a short shrift and a long rope," interrupted vipan, the scowling glances and increasing murmurs of the throng convincing him of the peril he himself was incurring. a frantic yell burst from the prisoner. "you snake-spawned white injun! here's a white man being cut into chunks before your eyes. i'll haunt yer! i'll ghost yer! i'll make life a hell to yer!" the miserable wretch went on to bellow the most frantic blasphemies. one of the young indians, stepping up behind him, thrust a red-hot faggot into his open mouth. this was greeted as an excellent joke by the onlookers, who shouted and screamed with laughter. then one of them applied a light to the victim's unkempt and shaggy beard. it frizzled and flared up, burning the wretched man frightfully about the face and head. the mirth of the spectators became well-nigh uncontrollable. "how! white brudder," said a burly buck, grinning hideously into geoffry's face, and patting him fraternally on the shoulder. "injun brudder hab heap fun. injun brudder not hurt you first. other man hurt first--you see him--you hab heap good fun. you hurt first, you no laugh--other hurt first, you plenty laugh--injun brudder plenty laugh. how--how!" then the wretched geoffry understood that with a diabolical refinement of cruelty the savages intended that he should witness the torture and death of his companion in adversity before his own turn came. he could only raise his eyes stupidly to the grinning countenance of his addresser. two squaws now stepped forward--hideous hags whose long flattened breasts fell in disgusting flaps below their waists. they were nearly naked, and each held in her hand a sharp knife. advancing to the sufferer they made an incision down each of his sides, and proceeded to skin him alive as coolly as a butcher would flay a dead sheep. the anguished shrieks of the victim were terrible to hear; but no spark of pity did they stir in the hearts of the ruthless fiends who crowded around, gloating over this diabolical performance. they danced and laughed, leaping high in the air, hurling taunting epithets at the miserable victim, and exhorting the other prisoner to observe what was in store for him. and in their hellish glee the women, if anything, surpassed the younger and more ferocious of the warriors. for nearly an hour the scene went on--varied at intervals by the passing of a lighted torch along those portions of the victim's body already laid bare. the piercing shrieks of the tortured wretch sunk into laboured and hollow groans--then ceased altogether. he had fainted. a glance having sufficed to show them that he was not dead, the performers stood back, contemplating their handiwork with a grin of ferocious satisfaction. and so deftly had they done it, that from chin to feet, the front and sides of the sufferer's body was entirely denuded of skin, which hung from his shoulders in a bleeding and ghastly mantle. yet this was only the first stage of his torture. vipan, who had perforce witnessed this hideous spectacle, felt seized with a violent and well-nigh uncontrollable nausea, and would have turned away. but as the exhibition of the slightest repulsion or feeling would have been not merely inexpedient, but highly dangerous, he was constrained to master himself. besides, a sort of horrible fascination rooted him to the spot--an overmastering and morbid curiosity to see how the other prisoner would fare. sitting bull, who with a few other chiefs had been witnessing the hellish performance with grave impassiveness, must have read his thoughts. "they are not king george men," he remarked laconically. "they are not your countrymen, golden face." vipan made no reply. the remark suggested an idea. he might be able to save geoffry by claiming him as a fellow-countryman. a strange struggle took place within him. why should he? if he attempted to do so it would be at deadly risk to himself, and even then would he meet with success? and apart from these considerations, as he himself had told the unfortunate one, he was the last man from whom the latter should claim any assistance. then the bloodthirsty rage of the barbarous horde took a fresh turn. their one victim was for the time being insensible to pain, but there was another. him they had been reserving with this end in view. shouts were raised that it was time to begin upon him. with a wild-beast laugh, the two fiend-like hags approached the new victim, their reeking knives in hand, the yells and roars of the crowd urging them on. the miserable geoffry, bound immovably to the stake, watched their approach. his eyes protruded from their sockets, a cold sweat rained down his distorted countenance, and there was a strange hoarse rattle in his throat. it was a sight to haunt the spectator for a lifetime. then his head fell heavily forward on his chest. seizing him by the hair, one of the female fiends forced it back. it was as lead in her grasp. then the truth became apparent. the miserable captive was stone-dead. he had died of sheer horror and fright. a moment of silence, then with a wild yell of disappointed fury the ferocious crowd flung itself upon the corpse and hacked and mutilated it into a shapeless and gory mass. then the blind madness of their bloodthirsty rage fairly let loose, they turned once more to the first victim. the scalp was torn from his head; knives and burning splinters were stuck into his flesh; and the yet warm and palpitating heart was plucked out and reared aloft on the point of a lance. then bundles of dry brushwood were piled around both of the mangled corpses, and set alight, and soon the red tongues of flame--whose roaring and crackling was drowned by the frenzied yells of the savages as they danced and leaped around like devils let loose from the nethermost hell--shot upward, licking around the cruel stakes of torture, and a horrible and sickening odour of burning flesh hung upon the air. a great volume of smoke mounted to the heavens, and, after watching it for a while, the whole fiend-like crowd surged back to the village, there to hold a gigantic scalp-dance--bearing the reeking trophies aloft on lance-points. all that remained of the border ruffian and the unfortunate geoffry vallance were two little heaps of calcined bones. chapter thirty five. the sun queen. a month had gone by. the mountain air had become thin and steely, and the gorgeous glories of the golden-hued woods were falling fast. winter was in the atmosphere. in the villages of the hostiles time was of no account. dancing and warlike exercises, gossip, story-telling and gambling, and hunting in the adjacent mountains, thus this great gathering of savages on a war-footing solaced their leisure hours--which were many. bands of warriors, under some favourite chief or partisan, would strike the war-post, and sally forth on some more or less desperate foray, returning in due time with scalps or plunder, or both. once they brought with them a wretched prisoner, who was promptly done to death under the usual circumstances of revolting barbarity. now, of this life vipan had become heartily sick. accustomed as he was to come and go at will among the camps and villages of the sioux, the restraint of knowing himself a prisoner galled him. for although allowed a certain amount of liberty, and rather ostentatiously treated as a guest, he was carefully watched. but it is doubtful whether another cause had not more to do with his weariness and disgust. that was no mere passing passion whose expression had so nearly escaped him when standing in the dug-out with yseulte santorex. by an inexplicable rebound from his wild and reckless life, this man's mature mind and strong nature had sprung to the other extreme. well he knew--none better--his position, or, rather, the utter lack of it, did he return to civilisation, and there were times when he felt tempted to throw himself in heart and soul with his indian friends, to lead them on the war-path, and in ferocity and daring excelling even the savages themselves, to devote the remainder of his life to acts of vengeance upon that civilisation whose laws had placed it in the power of a specious hypocrite to drive him forth from its midst a pauper and an outcast-- acts of barbarous and bloody vengeance that should render his name a terror to the whole of the western frontier. what had he to do with softness--with love--at his time of life? yseulte santorex would be safe in her english home by this time, probably recalling--when she did recall it--their acquaintanceship only as a passing romance embedded among her other adventurous experiences. with such reflections would he lash and torture himself. more than once when accompanying some of their hunting parties into the mountains he had been seized by a wild impulse to make a dash for liberty. but the cat-like watchfulness of the indians never flagged, and upon such occasions a glance was enough to show the impracticability of any such scheme. the first step would be the signal for a volley of bullets through his body--moreover, he was never allowed the use of anything but an inferior steed. and now, day by day, his situation became more precarious. sitting bull, crazy horse, and the other chiefs had somehow waxed more than doubtful of late as to whether his services in regard to a possible british intervention would be of any use at all--and this idea was insidiously fostered by his enemies, who were many and powerful-- mountain cat, the ogallalla war-chief, and crow-scalper, who hated all whites, and the band of young desperadoes who had attached themselves to the fortunes of war wolf. the latter brave's bumptiousness had become simply overwhelming. full of the recently-acquired importance conferred upon him by his captivity among the whites and subsequent escape, he would strut and swagger around, bedecked in all his war-paint and finery--passing vipan with a contemptuous laugh or a remark of covert insolence. the only consideration that restrained the latter from inflicting summary chastisement was the certainty that the hour he did so would be his last. and his friend and protector, mahto-sapa, was frequently absent on warlike or diplomatic expeditions. the sullen and hostile feeling growing around him was written on every grim and scowling face. he felt as helpless as a fly in a spider's web. pondering over these things, he was seated one day alone in the lodge of his host--the latter being away upon one of those absences which constituted such a peril to himself--when a shadow darkened the entry and a feminine voice inquired in english: "may i come in?" he started, as well he might. the accent was pure and refined, the tone firm and pleasing. for answer he rose and bowed, and the speaker entered. strange as it may seem, during all this while vipan had seen his host's white wife by no more than a few stray passing glimpses, and then at a distance. it had always struck him that she avoided him with design, and he had respected her motives. she dwelt in two _teepes_, which she occupied all to herself--an unwonted luxury--and was attended on by a shoshone slave girl of unrivalled hideosity, captured on one of the chief's forays into the country of the snakes. he saw before him a tall, fine-looking woman who might or might not have been under forty. she was habited in the tasteful indian dress, and the tunic and leggings of soft doeskin, beautifully embroidered, brought out every line and curve of a splendidly-moulded figure. her face, browned and hardened by exposure to the sun, and a life not altogether free from privation, was lighted up by a pair of clear blue eyes, and must formerly have been one of striking beauty. but the chief attraction was her hair. this was not arranged in two long plaits after the sioux fashion, but rippled over her shoulders in a heavy redundant mass, forming a very mantle of sheeny, ruddy gold, explaining to the astonished spectator the name she bore among her adopted compatriots, the sun queen. but--heavens--what an apparition to meet with in the camp of the hostile sioux! "thanks," she said, simply, seating herself upon the pile of robes which vipan had dragged forward for that purpose. then pausing a moment to see if he would break the silence, she went on: "you do not seem to remember me." "pardon me. i am not likely to have forgotten you," was the quiet reply, with an undercurrent of cutting satire. "who that had seen her could ever forget the beautiful miss d'arcy--the belle of the island?" she broke into a bitter laugh. "is that what they used to call me? i had forgotten--it seems such a long, long time ago. could it have been myself? i, isabel d'arcy, who held the whole island in thrall; government house, the garrison--all--all my humble devoted slaves, now the wife of a painted savage! in a word, an indian squaw!" "and because i declined to make one of the crowd of your humble devoted slaves you ruined my life. you blighted my whole career as a sacrifice to your ruffled vanity. one word from you would have exonerated me--yet you did not speak it." "why did you not defend yourself? why did you not explain the matter fully?" "i was a fool not to, perhaps. in fact, i am sure i was. well, you see--it was no part of my creed to give away a friend, nor yet a woman-- for it was in a secondary degree on your account that i kept silence and set up no defence." "on my account?" she echoed. "yes. your only chance of getting clear out of the business was to deny the whole thing and stick to it. if i had cut in with the story of the other man borrowing my charger for the occasion, especially as owing to our striking resemblance we were often taken for each other--why the whole murder would have been out. no, there was nothing for it but the denial." "and--and have you never explained a word of it since?" "never. what was the use? i was already condemned. your uncle, sir george, had more than enough influence for that, and i was practically cashiered. i must, however, give him credit for the astute way in which the business was hushed up. barentyne, i suppose, couldn't clear me for fear of giving _you_ away." "and what became of major barentyne?" she asked eagerly. "he left the service soon afterwards. he's a governor-general now, a sort of viceroy, and all sorts of things; while i'm--well, a fair specimen of a western border ruffian. thus, in this world, is the saddle clapped upon the wrong horse, and the scapegoat is jerked forth into the wilderness--and it doesn't much matter." there was no heat, no upbraiding in his tone. after the first touch of satire underlying his recognition of her he spoke in an even, almost monotonous voice, puffing slowly at his long indian pipe with the impassiveness of the red men themselves. then a silence fell between them. the meeting, the conversation, seemed to have bridged over the weary, hopeless years of captivity of the one, the aimless and chequered wanderings of the other. by magic the indian _teepe_, with its confusion of _parfleches_ and robes and cooking-pots and wicker-beds, seemed to have disappeared, and once more their minds were back among the government house state and the garrison festivities of the island colony, and many a familiar, but long-forgotten, face and memory of other days. and now the once beautiful girl who had queened it there, the descendant of a good old line, was the weary, middle-aged wife of a sioux chief, doomed to live and die among the red barbarians. truly the whirligig of fortune was executing a strange freak when it brought these two face to face thus. "i have, indeed, injured you," she said at length. "but i can yet make some amends?" he shook his head. "listen," she went on. "i can do this. i can give you in writing a full and true statement of the whole affair. then you can return home and clear yourself." "and to what end?" he answered. "nothing on earth is to be gained by raking up old troubles already forgotten. besides, you are forgetting; i am a prisoner here, and, candidly, have very small hope of ever knowing liberty again. my time is about run out. do you know that from hour to hour i live in unceasing apprehension of treachery? any moment may be my last. see, i have an old pistol here--only one shot. i am keeping it for myself, if necessary, for i will never figure at their hellish stake." she shuddered. "but," she urged, lowering her voice, and speaking quickly, "but what if i can help you to escape?" he looked up, a flash of hope in his eyes. then he shook his head. "i'm afraid it can't be done. they would be certain to detect your agency in the matter, and then what would be _your_ fate?" "what, you can still make that a consideration!" she exclaimed in amazement. then, suddenly she burst into a flood of tears. "forgive me," she said, quickly recovering herself. "i am very foolish. but you are the first of my race i have conversed with for eight long years. the only white faces i have seen during that time have been those of wretched prisoners brought in for torture and outrage, or of horse thieves and border ruffians, more repulsive and villainous than those of the savages themselves." "i had no idea of your identity," he said, "until you came in here just now. then i recognised you, for i never forget a face. i am not easily astonished, but i was then. if the subject is not painful i should be glad to know the circumstances of your being here at all." she laughed drearily. "oh, no! feeling is pretty well dead by now, and happily so. the story is that of many another, only i suppose i ought to reckon myself fortunate when i think of what i have seen others go through. in an evil moment i arranged to come home from the islands with some friends, who were anxious to do the trip overland. we landed at san francisco, and all went well until we reached this side of the mountains. we were a small party, so small that the people at fort laramie tried all they could to dissuade us from going on, as most of the tribes were on the war-path. we were attacked on the banks of the north platte, about two days out from laramie. it was early in the morning, and we had just hitched up for a start. the spring waggon containing ourselves was a little behind the rest. suddenly a band of warriors, hundreds of them it seemed, charged in upon us yelling like fiends. the teamsters were shot dead in a moment. mr elsdale, under whose protection i was travelling, was run through with a lance almost before he had time to fire a shot, and his wife and i were at the mercy of the savages. even now i would rather not think of what she had to go through." "and yourself?" "i fainted, mercifully. i must have remained unconscious for hours, for when i came to i found myself tightly held by a powerful indian in front of his saddle. the party was travelling at a considerable pace, and some of them carried freshly-taken scalps, those of our unfortunate outfit. my captor smiled good-humouredly as i opened my eyes, and, with signs and a word or two of english, told me not to be afraid, they were not going to kill me. even then it struck me that he had a fine face. there was an expression of humanity and kindness in it totally absent from the hideous and painted visages of the rest. that man was mahto-sapa." she paused, and seemed to make an effort to proceed. her listener, keenly interested, still smoked gravely without speaking. "that night, when we halted, there was a frightful scene. mrs elsdale was a prisoner too, but i had not seen her until then. well, you know indians and their ways. she was dead before morning. that i escaped the same brutal treatment was due to the chief. it appears that he had captured me with his own hand, and he claimed me as his exclusive property. there was nearly a fight over me, and i have since learned that it was little short of a miracle that he carried his point. well, i was taken to their head village unmolested, for the chief protected me unswervingly the whole way, and then he took me as his wife. what could i do, at the mercy of a band of ruthless savages? some women might have killed themselves, but i was a full-blooded creature and clung to life; besides i always had a strong dash of the bohemian in me." vipan remembered how that very thing used to be said of her among the envious gossips of the island colony, who had predicted all sorts of queer futures for isabel d'arcy. surely, however, that which had befallen her was many degrees queerer than even they had ever designed for her. "the chief was a splendid-looking man," she continued, "and i felt genuinely grateful to him when i thought what he had saved me from. so i made a virtue of necessity, and resolved to make the best of the situation; and that i succeeded in obtaining a certain amount of ascendancy over him you may judge from the style in which i am allowed to live. he has always treated me well, and i have never been molested in the smallest degree from the time it was an understood thing that i was his property. i have more than once been the means of saving a wretched prisoner, not from death--that would be beyond even my power-- but from the frightful ordeal of the stake. the reason why those two unhappy wretches were done to death outside the village the last time instead of here, in its midst, was on my account. the horrible sights i have witnessed here would make even you turn sick. well, i laid myself out to acquire influence among the indians, doctoring them in a small way and teaching them various little things; and once my position assured i took no small pains to keep up its dignity. they soon named me the sun queen." "and do you never contemplate a return to civilisation--to your friends?" said her listener as she paused in her narrative. "never. friends! why, i never had a real one; and as for relations, they would spurn me from their door. no, i am accustomed to this life now, and i shall live and die among the sioux, the squaw of a savage. rather a contemptible object, am i not?" she ended, with a harsh and bitter laugh. "no, i should not say that," said vipan, slowly, puffing out a great cloud of smoke. "what!" eagerly. "you do not despise me in your heart?" "certainly not. look here. let us put the case fairly and without prejudice. supposing you had lived the ordinary society life. you might, as hundreds have done before you, have married some vulgar _parvenu_--we'll say from force of circumstances--or a fellow who got drunk on the quiet and threw empty bottles at you, or some execrable gutterling who happened to be rolling in money. civilised men and christians, mind. i am brutally frank, you see. or again, more than one englishwoman of birth and breeding has been known to espouse some slant-eyed, sallow-skinned oriental for the sake of his rank and jewels, sometimes not even that. well, you have allowed that mahto-sapa, as a man, is not contemptible either in aspect or qualities. now i call him a king in comparison with such as i have just mentioned. of those who would define him as a heathen and a savage, not one in a hundred could boast half his good points. my opinion is that you have shown sound judgment in making the best of the situation." "do you know, you have taken a weight off my mind. i had often thought of what you now say, but required someone else's opinion. no, i shall live and die among these people. but you? i will think out and form some plan for you to escape, but i do not disguise from you that it will be difficult and risky. and should you find yourself threatened with immediate danger, do not delay, take refuge at once in my lodge. i believe they would hesitate to pursue you there." she rose from her seat with a lithe, rapid movement, grasped his hand, and glided from the lodge. chapter thirty six. a tardy reparation. vipan, left alone, felt drowsy, and kicking up the lodge fire into a blaze, rolled himself in a blanket and lay down in the long wicker basket which did duty as his bed. but sleep refused to come. this strange meeting had something weird about it. that this woman, whose selfish reticence had ruined his life, to screen whom he had sacrificed his prospects up to blighting point, as to whose whereabouts he had long ceased to speculate, should appear before him alone in the camp of the hostile sioux--living there as one of themselves--struck him as little short of miraculous, and a superstitious feeling seemed to warn him, eagerly as he strove to dismiss it, that an occurrence so startling, so entirely out of all reckoning, portended some grave crisis to himself. was her appearance after all these years destined to herald some other turning-point in his life? thus musing, sleep at length overcame him, and still his dreams were haunted by the sad face of the ex-society belle, doomed to spend her life among savages, even resigned to that deplorable destiny. a stealthy form wormed itself quickly through the opening of the _teepe_. vipan, who slept with one eye open, never moved, but his hand tightened on the stock of the pistol in his breast. only for a moment, though; for he recognised the hideous lineaments and beady eyes of the shoshone slave girl. "rise quickly, golden face," whispered the latter. "the sun queen sends for you. come at once." prepared for any emergency, he obeyed without a word. it was already dusk, and at the other end of the village were signs of a gathering of some sort which was about to take place. unobserved, he entered isabel d'arcy's tent. enjoining caution by a sign, she beckoned him to a seat. the firelight glinted on her shining hair, and he noticed that her still handsome face was clouded with anxiety. the _teepe_ was furnished in quasi-civilised style. there was a camp bedstead instead of the indian wicker basket, a table, two trunks, and even a few books. "i have just learned something," she began, "that renders it necessary for you to make the attempt at once. listen. time is short, and we must lose none of it. there is to be a big scalp-dance to-night in the ogallalla camp. hark! they are beginning now. afterwards you are to be seized and put to the torture. i know the plot--never mind how. nothing can save you. the ogallallas have fourteen hundred warriors in the village, and are all-powerful. the whole of our band, except about fifty, are away with mahto-sapa, and even he could hardly protect you if he were here. mountain cat, war wolf, long bull, and a dozen others are all in the plot. now, quick--quick, i say!" stamping her foot. "obey me or you are lost. take as much as you can carry of this," handing him a _parfleche_ half full of dried meat. "and this is the only weapon i can find." with a thrill of satisfaction he found himself in possession of a large navy revolver, loaded in every chamber. "but," he objected, "if i get clear will they not visit it upon you?" "no. they dare not. quick. you have only an hour's start, with the best of luck. you may not have ten minutes. roll your blanket round your chin, so as to hide your beard, and put on this." she handed him an indian head-dress of beadwork and cloth, from whose summit rose a tall eagle-feather. fixing it on, he stood there transformed into a stalwart savage. "now, my plan is simple--in fact, ridiculous. you must personate an indian larking with my slave girl here. she will pretend to run away, and you must pursue her. she will lead you to the nearest herd of ponies; you must catch one and trust to luck. now, good-bye. god speed you!" he thought he detected a quaver in her voice as she grasped his hands, and would have lingered. she stamped her foot angrily. "go, go! you are endangering both of us, and the plan will fall through." and she almost pushed him from the lodge. a mischievous cackle, and the dark form of the shoshone girl glided round the outside of the _teepe_. vipan, entering thoroughly into his _role_, started boldly in pursuit. so well did he act up to it that a group of squaws whom he passed within ten yards screamed with laughter at the sight of a stalwart buck larking after the sun queen's hideous slave, no less than at the broad jests which he was gruffly hurling after her as she ran. the dark figure still glided on between the _teepes_, hardly visible in the falling gloom. to those who did see it the sight was an everyday one, so that beyond a shout of mirth and a boisterous wish for his success, no notice was taken of it. the last line of _teepes_ was passed. in front lay the timber belt, then a subdued "crunch, crunch," betokened the proximity of a group of ponies. the dark figure of the shoshone girl had disappeared. "the nearest," his deliverer had said. his lariat rope was ready. gently, soothingly, he approached the one he reckoned the best. up went the perverse brute's head with a resentful snort, as it sidled and backed away. he tried another, with the same result. his heart was in his mouth. the ponies had stopped feeding, and were gazing at him in alarm. the least thing might stampede the herd and arouse the attention of its owners. there was no time to lose. whirling the noose around his head he let fly. the coils tautened out. the affrighted animal thus noosed, plunged, and fell heavily. he was upon it like lightning. avoiding the kicking hoofs, he wrenched a bight of the rope into its mouth, jerked the trembling and terrified steed to its feet, and was on its back like a circus-rider. the rest of the herd trotted away, snorting and throwing up their heels. suddenly a wild, shrill whoop went up from the village. ah! now for the race for life; but what were the odds in his favour? they had discovered his flight. on, through the darkness, the fugitive urged his unwilling steed, whose bucking and plunging would have unseated any less skilful horseman. and as he fled, carefully picking his ground with the instinct of a consummate plainsman, he strained his ears through the darkness to catch the first sounds of pursuers behind, of a possible manoeuvre to outflank and head him in front. but the discovery had not, in fact, been made. the wild shouts were the yells of the scalp-dance just beginning. fainter and fainter behind him sounded the savage chorus, then died away, and amid the solitude of the grim mountain waste only the soft hoof-beats of his steed, and the occasional scream of a panther among the craggy heights, broke upon the dead and ghostly silence of the night. chapter thirty seven. between the living and the dead. with the first lightening of dawn, the fugitive realised that it behoved him to exercise tenfold wariness. save one brief halt to rest his steed, he had ridden the night through, and now he intended to lie hidden in some snug retreat until darkness again should cover his flight beneath its friendly folds. a shallow stream flowed close at hand, now losing itself in the timber, now gurgling along a grassy bottom, to emerge a few hundred yards further down. into the water vipan now guided his steed, and riding down stream, emerged a mile or so further on. this manoeuvre, executed with the object of hiding his trail, he had performed already twice that night. the morning dawned but slowly; dark and cold, for a thick mist had settled down on the land. and now it seemed to vipan that the ground was becoming less precipitous. could he be getting clear of the mountains already? suddenly the murmur of guttural voices struck upon his ear, and strangely enough they sounded ahead of him. softly he checked his horse. then to his unbounded amazement the subdued murmur arose again. this time _it was behind him_. a puff of air drove a space through the mist, and now vipan's heart stood still. on either side of him, all around, gigantic in the filmy wrack which swept over them in thickening or decreasing folds, loomed shadowy horsemen. their deep-toned conversation, their plumed heads and painted faces, were only too familiar to this man who was flying there for his life. _he was riding in the very midst of a war-party_. their strength he could not estimate. ghostly forms appearing and disappearing as the mist thickened or partially dispersed, no clue could he obtain as to their numbers. one even called out to him a remark. he answered with a laconic grunt, and in his heart fervently blessed the foresight of his deliverer which had invested him with the eagle-crested head-dress. the savages evidently took him for one of their party. fervently, too, did he bless the welcome fog and its kindly aid, for the fraud could not have lived a moment in broad daylight. gradually, imperceptibly, he checked his steed. any moment the fog might lift. he must back out of this perilous escort as imperceptibly as he had entered it. but, just as he reckoned himself clear, a fresh group of figures would start up on his rear, and canter forward in the wake of those who had gone before. these ceased, and by the time the fog began fairly to roll back beneath the dispelling power of the rising sun, vipan, to his inexpressible relief, found himself alone. then spying a confused heap of rocks and bushes high up on the slope of a hill he made for it. as a hiding-place it was perfect. entering its welcome shelter, he secured his tired steed in such wise that the animal could crop the green herbage growing in the cool shadow of the rocks. then he lay down and fell fast asleep. when at length he awoke it was with a shiver of cold. the sun was not an hour from the western horizon. he had slept the whole day. cautiously he peered forth. his hiding-place, being at a considerable elevation, afforded a wide view of the surrounding country. the blue line of the black hills cleft the sky to the south-eastward, and he could make out the granite cone of the towering inyan kara. his course had so far been an accurate one. suddenly a moving object caught his eye. was the land absolutely bristling with enemies? advancing along his trail far down in the bottom came a file of mounted figures. though nearly three miles off, there was no mistaking them or their object. then he chuckled sardonically. the trail of the war-party, under whose escort he had so unwillingly travelled for ever so brief a space, would obliterate his own a hundred times over. nearer and nearer they drew, riding at an easy canter. he made out forty-one indians in war-costume. he watched them with a sneer and a chuckle. suddenly, when nearly abreast of his position, the leader halted, gazing intently at the ground. the band clustered round him, then scattered, as if searching for more trail. then a smothered curse escaped the lips of the watcher. in obedience to a rapid signal, the whole band had diverged from the trail of the war-party, and was heading straight for his place of concealment. it was all up with him. they had lighted upon his trail. it was time to give them the slip. he sent one more glance at the party. strung out in single file, the warriors were riding along his trail, like a pack of hounds with their noses to the ground. in their leader he recognised his implacable and untiring foe, war wolf. "all right," he muttered between his teeth, as he twisted the lariat rope into the horse's mouth. "all right, my friend. you're bound for the happy hunting-grounds this time. we'll get there together." his horse, fresh and rested, bore him bravely as he dashed forth, leaving the hill and the covert between himself and his pursuers. well he knew what would happen. the indians would not ride straight up to the bushes. they would halt and cast round the hill to see if his trail led away again. this would give him a start. the face of the country on this side was a series of rolling slopes freely dotted with clumps of straggling timber. some distance ahead he noted a long dark line of forest. night was at hand; could he reach this in time he might yet hope to escape. then a long, pealing whoop went up. the sioux had discovered him, and with exultant shouts each warrior lashed his pony into the utmost speed. for half an hour the furious chase continued. vipan, glancing over his shoulder, became aware that his pursuers were slowly gaining on him. on--on. the forest belt would soon be reached, and meanwhile the dusking shadows were lengthening around. he gained the first straggling patch of scrub. a few hundred yards and he would be within the welcome refuge, when his horse put a foot on the crusted surface of a mud-hole, turned a somersault, and his rider came whizzing to the earth. vipan arose. throughout the horror of the shock his self-possession did not desert him, for he retained firm hold of the lariat rope. he was on his feet again, active as a cat, though stiff and bruised, but his steed stood shaking with alarm, using its right foreleg limpingly. a yell of exultation went up from the pursuers. half-a-dozen warriors, better mounted than the rest, were some distance ahead. so easy a capture would be that of the unarmed fugitive that they had not troubled to hold a weapon in readiness. now they began to whirl their lassos ready for a throw. vipan, perfectly cool, crouched behind a bush, his revolver pointed. on they came, war wolf leading, a grin of triumph wreathing his fierce features. a hundred yards--then fifty. a ringing report--a jet of flame in the glooming twilight. war wolf threw up his arms and lurched heavily forward upon his horse's neck. the terrified animal, snorting and rearing, dashed away at a tangent, dragging his rider, who had somehow become entangled in the caparisonings. and what a howl of rage and consternation rent the air! they had not bargained for this, for they believed the fugitive to be unarmed. panic-stricken for the moment, they halted, then some of them dashed off to the succour of their leader. but they need not have done so. the bullet had sped true. the young partisan had shouted his last war-whoop. profiting by this temporary check, the hunted man had again sprung on the back of his horse. lame or not, the animal must carry him further yet. on--on. the forest belt was gained. he plunged beneath its shadows, only to find it was mere straggling timber--not thick enough for hiding purposes. the frosty air cut his face and the leaves crackled crisply under his horse's hoofs. he drew his knife and pricked the poor brute furiously in the hinder quarters. the fierce yells of the savages drawing nearer and nearer told only too plainly that they had no intention of relinquishing the pursuit, and the horse was beginning to go dead lame. "cau--aak!" he glanced involuntarily upward. a huge raven disturbed on its roost flapped away in alarm. but another sight met his eye. extending horizontally from two sturdy limbs of a cottonwood tree, cleaving the wintry sky, was a long dark object. vipan recognised one of those platforms on which the indians deposit their dead--like mohammed's coffin, midway between earth and heaven. his mind was made up in a flash. checking his horse he dismounted, and tearing a bunch of thorns from a bush, proceeded deliberately to insert them beneath the poor animal's tail. then, as the horse galloped off in a perfect frenzy of pain and terror, he slipped up the tree and gained the burial platform, literally flattening himself against its ghastly burden. it was a hideous alternative. scarcely had he gained this gruesome refuge than the pursuers passed beneath. they were barely fifteen feet below him as he lay flattened there, not even daring to breathe as the savages swept by, guided by the frenzied gallop which, seeming to have gained redoubled speed, they could hear still ahead of them. it was a desperate expedient, but it had answered so far. "cau--aak! cau--aak!" like an evil spirit let loose beneath the frosty heavens came the black swoop of the raven he had disturbed, and the hunted man saw it with a cold shiver. he dared not even turn his head. the warriors might return at any moment from their fool's errand, and then even a breath might seal his fate. a strong shudder of disgust ran through his frame. the hideous croak of the ill-omened bird brought back vividly that other scene--the two grinning blood-stained skulls lying there in the dark forest by burntwood creek, and the startling challenge of their would-be avenger. involuntarily he turned his head, and a revulsion of horror caused him to shrink back in spite of himself, and nearly to fall from his precarious resting-place. for within six inches of his face his glance lighted upon a fearful sight. a human countenance scowled upon him--but such a face. from the blackened and mummified skin drawn tightly over the protruding bones, the glazed eyes seemed to glare anew with menace and hate towards the violator of their resting-place. shadowy yet distinct in the light of the new moon this horrible countenance, peering as it were from the fantastic cerements of barbarous sepulture, was enough to unhinge the stoutest nerves. a grisly skeleton-claw raised in mid-air, as though about to grapple with the impious intruder, completed the horror, while overhead, like the fierce spirit of the departed warrior yet hovering around its decaying tenement, the grim raven flapped in circles, emitting its gruesome croak. "pooh!" said the fugitive to himself, making a strong effort to overcome his not unnatural horror. "pooh! while the country's swarming with live redskins hunting for my scalp, am i going to be scared by one dead one? not much--not much!" an hour wore on--then two. wolves howled dismally over the midnight waste, and still that grisly countenance glared menacingly in the moonlight--and still they lay side by side, the dust of the half-forgotten dead, and the living, breathing, vigorous frame--welded together in that weird partnership--its object the saving of a life. thus they lay, side by side--the dead warrior preserving the life of the hereditary enemy of his race. chapter thirty eight. another bomb for the rev. dudley. once more we must peep into the library at lant hall. mr vallance sat in his accustomed chair, thinking. his gaze would wander from the window to the blazing fire and back again, and the frown of anxiety deepened on his features. without, the wind howled shrilly through the bare boughs, and a few scattered flakes of snow whirled in the air. "why did we ever let him go?" he exclaimed aloud. "why did we ever let him go?" even as when last we saw him, mr vallance was terribly anxious on behalf of his son. his former misgivings had been allayed by the subsequent receipt of a letter from geoffry; which missive, however, had given him to understand that it was the last the writer would have an opportunity of sending for some time--in fact, until he should be on his way home again. characteristically, too, this letter contained only vague and general information that the writer had fallen in with and joined winthrop's outfit; and of his meeting with yseulte santorex, not a word. it was of no use worrying about the matter, decided the rev. dudley. any post might now bring intelligence that the boy was on his way home. it was poor comfort, and again he found himself repeating: "why did we ever allow him to go?" of the other affair which had so sorely troubled him--his cousin's unexpected and preposterous claim--he had heard no more. his apprehensions first were lulled, then subsided altogether. the whole business was palpably a "try on." a sound of subdued voices outside, then a knock. "a gentleman wishes to see you, sir." in his then frame of mind, mr vallance could not but feel startled by the interruption. "who is he, james?" he asked, quickly. "he wouldn't give his name, sir. he said as how you'd be sure to see him, sir." "quite right, quite right," said a deep voice, whose owner entered behind the astonished flunkey. "er--how do, dudley!" if mr vallance had been startled before, the expression of his features now betokened a state of mind little short of scare. his face had turned as white as a sheet, and his jaw fell as he stood helplessly staring at his visitor. "why--bless my soul--ralph," he stammered. then advancing with outstretched hand, "why--ralph--i'm--i'm glad to see you. i hope you have come to stay with us for a time." the visitor's reception of this friendly--this hospitable overture, was singular. standing bolt upright, he deliberately put his hand behind his back. "glad to see me!" he echoed, with a sneer. "no, you are not. why tell a--tarra-diddle. such a tarra-diddle, too--and you a preacher--er--i beg your pardon--a _priest_, it used to be, if i remember right. you would sooner see the devil himself at this moment than me." under the sting of this reply, the parson recovered a certain amount of dignity. "really," he said, stiffly, "your behaviour is strange, to put it mildly. may i ask, then, the object of your intru--your visit." "certainly, if it affords you any satisfaction." then glancing around the room, and finishing up with a look out of the window, he went on. "say, cousin dudley, this is a pretty shebang enough. the object of my visit is this: you've bossed up this show about long enough. suppose you abdicate now and let me have a turn?" "have you taken leave of your senses?" "not much. have you?" there was a sternness about the speaker's laconic reply which caused mr vallance to quail involuntarily. he made a step towards the bell-pull. the other laughed. "no, no. don't exert yourself. i'm not going yet--and if you bring in all the pap-fed flunkeys and swipe-guzzling stable-hands on your establishment, the poor devils'll only get badly hurt without furthering your object. i mean what i say--you've got to quit sooner or later. if you're wise it'll be sooner." "indeed! and why?" was the answer, given with cutting politeness. "well, it's this way. if you agree to clear at once, i'll give you five hundred a year--no, i'll make it six--out of the property for your life. that and the parsonic pickings will keep you in clover. if you mean fighting, i'm your man. but i warn you i'm prepared to plank down ever so many thousands of pounds to get you out--and when i've got you out i'll come down on you for every shilling of arrears, by george, i will!" "oh, you will?" "you may bet your life on it." for some moments the two men looked full in each other's faces without speaking. the sneer of conscious power on that of the one was matched by the expression of defiance, hatred, mingled with fear, on that of the other. "well, well," said mr vallance at length. "take your own course. only, let me remind you that you are in england now, and that in this country we don't settle important matters in any such rough and ready fashion." "oh don't make any mistake; i'm not going to _hurt_ you, if that's what you're thinking about. you see, i've been knocking around a goodish few years, and now i've a fancy for settling down--settling down _in my own place_, you understand." there was a smug smile of triumph on the parson's face now. his cousin was merely "bouncing" to extort terms. it would come to that in a few minutes. but the look aroused a very demon in the other. his eyes burned like live coals, though when he spoke his voice was under perfect control. "again, i say, you needn't be afraid," he said. "everything shall be done in due course of law." "but--but, my good fellow, surely you are aware you haven't a leg to stand on?" "i reckon i'm the best judge of that. see here, most reverend dudley. do you remember our last interview, here, in this very room? safe in the triumph of your successful fraud--fraud, i say, if you prefer it, forgery--you jeered at me, jeered at the man you had robbed. remember?" "`fraud!' `robbed!'" sputtered the parson, trying to lash himself into anger to drown the sinking sense that had come over him. "do you know, sir, that you are using actionable words?" "ah, ah! history repeats itself. that is precisely as you spoke on the former occasion, friend dudley. i will say it again, call in witnesses if you like. having defrauded and robbed me of my patrimony by lies and intriguing, _and_ worse--you, a preacher of the gospel, a teacher of christian morality--you threatened me with the law. you made your lawyers write to threaten me with an action for libel if i dared so much as venture an opinion on your behaviour. do you remember my words to you as i left this room?" well, indeed, did he remember. and now at the sight of the deadly wrath on this man's features, all the more terrible because so completely held in hand--of the towering form with its back just half a yard from the door, precluding alike entrance or exit--again mr vallance could not restrain a shiver of physical fear. "i told you my time would surely come, didn't i? how many years ago was it? nearer twenty than ten--yes. you slandered my name and stole my possessions--you, a sacred dispenser of sacraments--and i went forth a beggar, followed by your jeers of triumph. if you go where i have been during those years, and take the trouble to enquire, you will learn that few persons have played me a scrofulous trick without bitterly rueing it. you have played me the most scrofulous trick of all, and you are going to rue it." "well, i must trouble you to let me pass, please. i shall ask you to excuse me wasting my time any longer," said mr vallance, making a move as if to leave the room. but the other only smiled. "not yet. not quite yet," he said. "by the way, dudley. heard anything of geoffry lately?" the tone was easy--smiling--but it struck a chill to the parson's heart. he glanced up quickly at his interlocutor's face, his own white with deadly fear. his lips parted, but he was powerless to articulate. the other stood immovable--smilingly enjoying his apprehension, but the smile was that of a fiend. "not heard anything of him?" he said, slowly, while like the hellish hiss of red-hot irons in quivering flesh there passed through his mind the recollection of his cousin's defiant sneers over the successful intrigue that had robbed him of his patrimony, there in that same room, whose very walls seemed to echo their refrain even now. "not heard anything of him? well i'm not surprised, for--he's dead." "dead?" echoed mr vallance blankly, as though in a dream. "as the proverbial door-nail." "murderer!" gasped the wretched man, spasmodically clutching the air with his fingers, and gazing at his tormentor as through a far-off mist. "oh, no. you are under a delusion," was the cool reply. "it's odd that it should devolve on me--on me above all people--to give you the latest news of him. he died at an indian stake." even the pitiless, revengeful heart of the man who stood there smilingly unfolding his horrible news was hardly prepared for the awful metamorphosis that came over the smug, smooth-tongued, purring parson at those words. with a scream that rang through the house from top to bottom, and froze the blood of all who heard it, the miserable man leaped at his tormentor's throat like a wild cat at bay. but he might as well have leaped at a rock. the powerful arm was raised, and the mere shock of the recoil sent the poor wretch sprawling. he lay--his livid features working in mania--the foam flying from his lips in flakes. the other glanced at him a moment, then opened the door. "you, james?" he said, coolly, to the trembling flunkey, who had not been many yards from the door during the interview. "you, james? your boss is taken bad, i guess. better see after him. tell him, when he comes round, i'll call again by-and-bye, and give him further particulars." with the same easy smile upon his lips he passed through the crowd of frightened women-folk who met him on the stairs, and who shrunk back before his glittering eyes and towering form, and gained the front door. then he smiled in fearful glee. "the last time i passed out this way," he said to himself, half-aloud. "the last time i passed out this way, i was saying my time would surely come--and it has. aha! my exemplary and most reverend cousin i think i'm nearly even with you now--very nearly!" chapter thirty nine. in the twilight oakwood. yseulte santorex was slowly wending her way homeward through the now leafless oak woods which overhung elmcote. the lonely ride looked ghostly and drear in the early dusk of the november afternoon. a chill and biting wind moaned through the covert, and now and again a pheasant or rabbit scuttling among the undergrowth, raised a stealthy rustling sound that would have been somewhat startling to any other of her sex who should find herself belated in that lonely place. but in this solitary pedestrian it inspired no fear, only a sweet, sad recollection--albeit reminding her of the most perilous moment in her whole life. for it brought back vividly, by an association of sound and surroundings, the shadowy timber belt, and the stealthy tread of the grim painted savages advancing to seize her on the lonely river-bank in the far wild west. but what a change had befallen her! the happy, even-tempered girl who had so gleefully left her home in keen anticipation of a period of adventurous travel amid new and stirring scenes had disappeared, and this pale, wistful-eyed woman walking here seemed but the mere ghost of the yseulte santorex of yore. often in her dreams she again goes through those terrible experiences-- the perilous flight with the scout across the rugged ranges, momentarily expecting the volley of the lurking sioux ambushed in the dense timber. often in her dreams she is once more fleeing for dear life across those wild plains, the war-whoops of the painted fiends ringing in her ears, the thunder of their pursuing steeds shaking the ground. often in her dreams she is again entering the frowning portals of that dread thermopylae, where one man had unhesitatingly laid down his life in order that she might reach a place of safety. often, too, she is once more amid her genial, kindly, travelling companions, only to wake up with a start and a shiver to the remembrance of their horrible fate. but never as long as she lives will she forget the moment when her brother, finding her out at fort vigilance, brought the news which had confirmed her fears to the uttermost. he who had offered his life for her was dead--dead amid the horrid torments of the indian stake, as the savages themselves affirmed--and to her, thenceforward, life seemed a grey and valueless thing. there was nothing further to be gained by opposing her brother's wish that she should at once accompany him home to lant-hanger. travelling through the british possessions safe beyond the reach of the hostile sioux, who still carried terror and pillage over the plains of dakota and wyoming, they had set forth on their journey and had reached home in due course. shocked out of even his philosophy by the change, nothing could exceed the affectionate consideration her father had show for her since her return. even her mother forgot to grumble and scold in her relief at having the girl back again safe and sound, for george had judiciously put them up to the real state of affairs. it was not in the nature of things that her parents should be well pleased that she had buried her heart in the grave of an unknown adventurer, who had, moreover, met with a horrible death, but time, they hoped, would work a gradual cure, and she was young yet. then, too, apart from this unfortunate affair, her experiences had been terrible for a refined and luxuriously-nurtured english girl. so no care or trouble was spared to induce her to forget them. but yseulte herself was the last to second these well-meant efforts. she would brace herself up to appear cheerful and at ease, but seemed never so happy as when alone, rambling for hours through the fields and woods, to her parents' concern and alarm. but any expression of the latter would be met by a wan smile and a remark that one who had heard the war-whoop and shots fired in grim earnest, and had twice been chased by red indians on the war-path, felt pretty secure among the peaceful lanes and meadows of tame old england. and one other thing noteworthy was that she avoided lant hall and its denizens with a horror and a persistency that was little short of feverish. she had never divulged poor geoffry's presence with the waggon train, and shrank morbidly from doing so now. he might have escaped, but that he had fallen in the general massacre which overtook the unfortunate emigrants she could hardly doubt. this evening she was returning from a long walk, having gone out to join at luncheon her father and brother, who were shooting some distant coverts, and who would drive home by the road. she, preferring her solitary ramble through the fields and plantations, had left them early in the afternoon. the sharp air had brought a tinge of colour to her pale cheeks, as, defying its rigours in her warm winter dress and toque, she stepped along the woodland ride with the easy grace of a perfect physical organisation. an owl dropped softly from overhead, hooting as it glided along on noiseless pinions, the bark of a fox echoed from the depths of the brake; but these weird sounds amid the gathering mists of night caused her no uneasiness, let alone fear. she even stopped to listen to them with a wistful yearning, for in the cry of the wild creatures of the woods, and the swirl of the wind through the denuded branches, she seemed to feel once more borne back to those nights of peril and of fear--but oh! how sweet the recollection--in the wild and blood-stained west, to walk alone in the spirit presence of him whom her mortal eyes should never more behold. "would to god we had died together!" she exclaimed aloud, her eyes dimmed with a rush of blinding tears. "ah, why did i not die with him when it was still in my power to do so? ah, why?" and the owl flitting ghostly through the brake, answered: "tu-whoo--whoo-whoo!" a sound smote upon her ear as she turned the bend of the path--a sound as of the footfall and snort of a horse. she looked up, and the sight that met her eyes rooted her to the ground, while the blood at her very heart stood still. but not with fear. yet--what was that but a phantom--a phantom horseman--advancing towards her at scarce thirty paces? for the noble proportions of the coal-black steed there was no mistaking--and his rider--ah!--through many a night of horror and anguish she had seen in her dreams that towering frame, mangled and mutilated by the barbarous vengeance of the red demons, that splendid face, drawn and livid in the throes of an agonising death. rider and steed had been parted in life--here in the lonely woods, in the glooming twilight, they were together again. her eyes met those of the phantom. an ecstasy shook her frame, and she was powerless to articulate. a sweet smile played on her lips; her gaze was strained upon the apparition, as though in the very strength of her yearning she could constrain it to remain with her, could retard its return to the shadowy unknown. "yseulte--love--i am no spectre," said the voice she knew so well. "i have come straight to you as soon as i learned where to find you. come to me, darling!" he had sprung to the ground, and stood awaiting her. the spell was broken. a loud cry rang through the wood, and then she was in his arms--laughing, weeping, sobbing, then laughing again. words were out of the question. the wintry night fell black upon the glooming oakwoods, weirdly musical with the mournful hooting of the owls. but there was no gloom in the hearts of these two who now stepped from those thickening shades. a crunch of wheels on the gravel, a flash of lamps, and the dog-cart deposited the two shooters at the front door. "hallo, chickie! what's in the wind, now?" exclaimed mr santorex, staring in amazement, as his daughter, hardly giving him time to alight, had flown at him and flung her arms around his neck, her face all aglow with more than the happiness of former days. "father! _he's_ in there. go in and see him!" "_he_? what the deuce! in where? give a fellow a chance! who's _he_?" "mr vipan." "oh, ah--i remember. the champion scalp-hunter. come to life again, has he? let's have a look at him." as the door opened a tall figure rose from a chair, advancing with outstretched hand. "how do, santorex?" he thus unceremoniously addressed stared, as well he might. this was western brusquerie with a vengeance, he thought. "confound it! am i altered so dead out of all recognition?" said the other with a careless laugh, standing full in the light. "why, no--that is, yes. we none of us grow younger in twenty years. well, well, ralph. i'm heartily glad to see you, heartily glad." and the two men grasped hands in thorough ratification of the sentiment. "no, by george! i should never have known you," went on mr santorex. "and chickie, here, called you something else just now--what the deuce was it?" "vipan? yes, it was an old name in the family at one time. i've revived it lately for my own convenience. that's how i was known out west." "think you'd have known the child here?" went on "the child's" father, turning to yseulte, who had followed him into the room, and was now staring in amazement at this new revelation. "well, i've had rather the advantage of her; a mean advantage she'll say." "she" was incapable of saying anything just then. that photograph of the disinherited ralph vallance, which, since her return home, she had managed to conjure out of her father's boxes of old correspondence, and had treasured because it bore some slight resemblance to her dead lover, now turned out to be nothing less than his actual portrait. yet during all their daily intercourse, so well had he guarded his secret, that not a shadow of a passing instinct had ever warned her of his identity. it was astounding. "been to call on dudley yet, ralph?" said mr santorex, with a twinkle in his eye. "oh, yes. we had a talk over old times. by the way, that's another misnomer. my real name's rupert. they used to call me the other for short. heaven knows why, but they did, and i dropped it when i went west. shan't revive it." if ever there was a snug family party gathered together, it was that at the elmcote dinner-table that night, when rupert vallance, as we must now call him, yielding to general request, but especially to an appealing glance from yseulte's blue eyes, narrated his experiences from the time of his capture to his escape from the camp of the hostiles, only generalising however as to the agency of this latter event, and omitting for the present all mention of poor geoffry's horrible death. but when it came to the narrator literally tucking himself in with the grisly denizen of the indian grave, in the ghostly silence of the darkling forest, mrs santorex shivered and announced her intention of fainting; however, this effect was soon dispelled by the more pleasing _denouement_ of the stirring tale, how just in the nick of time, when alone, dismounted, barely half armed, and the savages still in search of him, he had been found by smokestack bill, who all this while, in hourly peril himself, had unweariedly watched his chances of coming to the aid of his friend. smokestack bill, too, with no less a companion than old satanta, who had been wandering the country ever since his escape from the ogallalla war-party, defying white or red to capture him, until, seeming to recognise his master's friend, he ran whinnying to the latter of his own accord. "he's a grand fellow, that scout," said mr santorex. "why didn't you bring him over with you, rupert?" "wouldn't come. he's going as chief scout to an expedition just about to be sent against the hostiles. i made him promise, though, to come over directly after the war." but the acme of this marvellous and stirring life's romance was reached when later--after the ladies had retired to bed--rupert vallance recounted, in strict confidence, the circumstances of his meeting in the sioux camp, the unfortunate woman who had ruined his career hitherto by allowing him to suffer for another's intrigue. "by jove!" said george santorex, junior. "i've heard of that party. always supposed, though, she was a common sort of woman. a lady! and prefers to live among a lot of dirty redskins! why, the tallest yarn of old mayne reid's is skim-milk to this. but i guess she pretty well wiped out old scores by chousing the reds out of your scalp in that clever way, eh, rupert!" he nodded. "that's so." just then there was an interruption. a messenger had arrived from lant hall. the rev. dudley was not expected to live through the night, and particularly wished to see mr santorex. "phew-w!" whistled the latter. "i suppose i must go. what on earth can he want to talk to me about? perhaps it's about you, rupert." "maybe it is," replied the latter, puffing out a cloud of smoke with as complete nonchalance as though they were discussing the weather. and george santorex, junior, furtively watching the unconcerned, relentless face, thought he could well understand the reputation which this man had set up in those western wilds which had been for so many years their common home. chapter forty. conclusion. summer has come round once more, and again, amid all the glories of a cloudless evening, we stand beside the banks of the rippling lant-- howbeit not without misgiving, for are we not about to enact the part of eavesdroppers towards those two strolling languidly, contentedly, there by the shining water? "it strikes me, child, you seem inclined to find life rather a happy thing," a voice well-known to us is saying. "and you've no business to." a loving pressure of the strong arm on which she is leaning is the only answer yseulte deigns at first to make. then: "why not?" "because you've done a very wrong thing. if the late lamented dudley were alive, he would tell you that a man may not marry his grandmother, and by parity of reasoning a woman may not marry her grandfather. now this is just what you have done, and it's very wrong of you." she gave his arm a pinch. "i never liked--boys!" she replied with a sunny smile. and then she sighed. for it was on this very spot, beneath this same spreading oak here on the river-bank, that poor geoffry had made his passionate and despairing declaration barely a year ago. and now at the thought of the poor fellow and his miserable end far away in that savage land, she could not repress a sigh. "by jove!" cried rupert vallance, flinging a stone into the river. "something here seems to remind me of that evening when i came upon you staving in the red brother's grinders with the butt end of a fishing-rod. i wonder, by the way, what became of that same weapon? i expect mountain cat's band still keep it as a big medicine-stick. deuced bad medicine it was for the buck you were laying it into. ho, ho!" "don't remind me of that horrible moment," she said, coming closer to him with a slight shiver. "let us go home, it's getting cold." the rev. dudley vallance was dead. the shock of learning his son's horrible end had brought on a stroke, and the following day he had breathed his last--not, however, before he had made what reparation he could for the wrong he had done his cousin, who, by the way, had so far relented as to satisfy him that he had borne no hand in poor geoffry's death, and, in fact was powerless to prevent it; added to which he had himself rescued him from the same fate on a previous occasion. so on his death-bed he had signed a hastily drawn-up will, bequeathing the lant property to rupert vallance absolutely, save and except a yearly charge on the estate for the support of his widow and daughters. to this rupert had added with ample liberality. once "the old man had climbed down," as he euphemistically put it, he himself was willing to let bygones be bygones, and had endowed the widow accordingly; needless to say, without earning the slightest degree of gratitude from the latter. they strolled homeward across the meadows in the falling eve, and, lo, as they entered the gate of the home paddock there arose a whinny and a stamp of hoofs. "dear old satanta!" said yseulte, stroking the velvety black nose which the noble animal thrust lovingly against her hand. "you have well earned your ease for life, at any rate." "i should rather think he had. no more arrows flying in his wake. no more brack water or willow-bark provender. all oats and fun for life. we shall have to give the war-whoop occasionally, just to remind him of old times." "please, sir," said a man-servant, meeting them in the hall. "postman says was he right in leaving this, sir?" his master took the letter, glanced at the address, and exploded in a roar of laughter. it bore the united states stamp, and was directed-- "judge rupert vipan, lant hall, brackenshire county, great britain." "nat hardroper's fist! come along, yseulte, and let's see what that 'cute citizen's got to say. `judge!' great scott! with infinite trouble i got him out of calling me colonel, and now he's elevated me to the judicial bench! `vipan,' too! the old name seems to stick, anyway." he broke open the letter and began to read-- henniker city, dakota, th july, . dear rupe,--seems to me you're fixed up pretty tight and snug, after "baching" around all these years. my respects to madam. may be you'll not be sorry to hear i've sold your interest in the burntwood creek mine to a new york syndicate for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and five hundred fully paid-up shares in the new co. if you weren't so keen on settling down in great britain again i reckon this find would make you more than a millionaire. however, i've banked the specie here, where it'll be safe enough till you undertake to ship it to great britain--safe enough, that is, while i'm sheriff of henniker city--though they did "hold up" the bank in jabez humbold's time. the pesky sioux are still on the war-path, as i judge you'll have learned even in great britain, but they're in a fair way of being soundly whipped. and now i've got to tell you what you'll be dead sorry to hear. yseulte, watching her husband's face, marked the change that came into it, as he turned the sheet and glanced hurriedly down it. a terrible frown--a frown similar to that which she had seen there when, dismounted and alone, he had turned to face the savage pursuers at the entrance of the canon that never-to-be-forgotten evening of her escape. mastering himself, he continued to read: your old pard, smokestack bill, is rubbed out. he fell at the little bighorn with custer and his command, and i reckon the red devils have had many a dance round his hair by this time. poor bill! i allow it's kinder rough when men have been pardners all the years you and he have; but he fell in fair fight, and that's better, as he himself would allow, than dying of a slow sickness, or being knifed in the back by some slinking wall-eyed rowdy in a saloon. well, well! there wasn't a straighter, stauncher, all-round man, nor a better scout on this continent than smokestack bill, and if so be as any man says there was, why he'll be ill-advised to make the remark anywhere around this section. i judge that's about all the news you'll care for just now, and with my respects to madam, now as ever, old hoss, your sincere: nathaniel j. hardroper, sheriff of henniker city. for some time rupert vallance stared vacantly at the hateful paper in dead silence. all the stirring experiences they had gone through together crowded upon his mind, and the fate of his friend, staunch, unswerving, true as steel, moved him more than he cared to show, even to his wife. "ah, well!" he said at last, laying down the letter with a sigh. "it's bitterly rough on a fellow. for upwards of a dozen years we've chummed together like twin brothers, in tight fixes and out of them, and now the poor chap's wiped out. yes, it's rough!" an arm stole round his neck. "darling, can i forget that the noble, unselfish fellow saved your life and brought you back to me! and don't think me unfeeling, but if i had never gone out there you might be lying there too, at this moment, having shared the poor fellow's terrible fate." "that's so," he assented. "i hadn't thought of it in that light." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the end. [illustration: he shot his arrow [page ]] three sioux scouts by elmer russell gregor author of "the war trail," "spotted deer," "the white wolf," "running fox," "white otter," etc. d. appleton and company new york :: :: london copyright, , by d. appleton and company printed in the united states of america contents chapter page i. watching for buffaloes ii. mysterious signals iii. old enemies iv. trailing a war party v. off to warn the cheyennes vi. a perilous mission vii. red dog's stratagem viii. the attack on the camp ix. pawnees x. a desperate chase xi. a night of surprises xii. friends xiii. the abandoned camp xiv. in pursuit of the kiowas xv. daring scouts xvi. a thrilling rescue xvii. disaster xviii. reËnforcements xix. the pawnees at bay xx. a hard won victory three sioux scouts chapter i watching for buffaloes white otter, the famous young war chief of the ogalala sioux, and his friends sun bird and little raven, of the minneconjoux tribe, were searching the plains for buffaloes. it was early spring, the time of the-new-grass-moon, and the sioux were expecting the great buffalo herds on their migration northward from the winter feeding grounds. "pretty soon ta-tan-ka will come--then we will have some good days and plenty of meat," white otter told his friends. "yellow horse is singing the medicine songs to bring the buffaloes. they will come." "my father does that," said sun bird. "i have seen him do it many times." "your father is a great medicine person, like yellow horse," declared white otter. although the villages of the ogalalas and the minneconjoux were many days' travel apart, the young warriors visited one another with considerable frequency. the year previous white otter had accompanied the minneconjoux on a great war expedition against the blackfeet. now sun bird and his brother, little raven, had come to the ogalala village to participate in the spring buffalo hunt. the three young scouts made an impressive appearance as they cantered across the plain on their speedy little hunting ponies. white otter was tall and lithe. sun bird was considerably shorter, and heavier in physique. little raven was younger and less matured in face and stature. all showed the characteristics of the dacotah warrior. they were fearless, cautious and crafty. each had proved his courage and skill in a number of thrilling exploits, and despite their youthfulness all three were famous warriors. they wore the simple dress of the hunter, which consisted of moccasins, and buckskin leggins reaching to the thighs. they were naked above the waist. their hair was worn in two braids wrapped with fur. white otter and sun bird, as chiefs of their respective tribes, were entitled to wear the coveted war bonnet of eagle plumes. both had left it off to be as inconspicuous as possible in their search for game. white otter, however, wore a single eagle feather in his scalp lock. they were armed with bows and arrows and flint hunting knives. white otter and sun bird carried fire sticks. each was provided with a robe of elkskin which was folded beneath him, across the back of his pony. for two days they had searched the plains to the southward of the ogalala camp. they had seen nothing, however, to indicate the approach of the great buffalo herds. still they felt certain that it would be only a day or so until the buffaloes appeared. "when we see them we will ride fast and tell my people," said white otter. "yes, yes, we will be the first to tell about it," little raven declared, enthusiastically. they were a considerable distance from the ogalala village, and as the third day drew toward its close they began to wonder if it might not be foolhardy to venture farther to the southward. they knew that there was a possibility of encountering both the kiowas and the pawnees in that direction, and the utes from the west and even their hated foes, the crows, sometimes moved down into that disputed territory. the sioux realized, therefore, that they were exposing themselves to considerable danger. "we have come a long ways--we must watch out," white otter cautioned. "it is true," agreed sun bird. "the pawnees travel in this country. perhaps they are looking around for buffaloes. we must be cautious." they had stopped at a little grove of cottonwoods, which offered feed and water for the ponies. as the day had almost ended, they were tempted to spend the night at that spot. white otter, however, decided against it. "it would be foolish," he declared. "our enemies know about this place. perhaps they will come here when it gets dark. we must ride away." "it is the best thing to do," said sun bird. they loitered until the ponies had finished feeding, and then they prepared to ride away. at that moment a small band of antelopes suddenly appeared on the crest of a low ridge to the westward. they had stopped, and seemed to be watching something on the other side of the ridge. it was evident that they had been alarmed. the sioux became suspicious. they watched closely. "something has frightened ta-to-ka-dan," said sun bird. "see, they are running down the ridge," little raven whispered, excitedly. the antelopes were bounding down the slope. when they reached the bottom they turned toward the little grove in which the sioux had taken shelter. the latter watched them with considerable uneasiness. "it is bad," declared white otter. "perhaps some one is peeping over that hill. if those antelopes come close they will find out about us. then they will run away. if hunters are watching on that ridge they will know that something is over here in this place. perhaps they will come here to find out about it." "it is bad," said sun bird. the antelopes were still running toward the grove. several old bucks, however, had stopped to look back at the ridge. the rest of the band continued across the plain. they were running against the wind. as they came within arrow range of the grove they suddenly stopped, and appeared suspicious. they had caught the danger scent. "ta-to-ka-dan is sharp," laughed sun bird. "the wind has told about us," said little raven. white otter kept silent. he watched the antelopes with grave misgivings. their behavior alarmed him. he felt quite sure that they would arouse the distrust of any foes who might be loitering within sight, and tempt them to investigate the grove. the idea suggested disturbing possibilities. "see, ta-to-ka-dan is standing out there like a frightened old woman," he said, irritably. "if our enemies are about they will come over here to see what has frightened ta-to-ka-dan." "come, we will ride away," proposed little raven. "wait, wait," sun bird cried, excitedly. "i saw something peep over the top of that hill." "i see it," said little raven. "it looks like ma-ya-sh, the wolf." they saw what appeared to be the head of a prairie wolf rising cautiously above the top of the ridge. the buck antelopes had discovered it, and were flashing the danger signal and stamping nervously. "it is bad," white otter said, uneasily. "perhaps it is ma-ya-sh, the wolf--perhaps it is a hunter. we must watch sharp." as they continued to watch the ridge, the little band of antelopes suddenly turned and bounded away toward the north. it was evident that they had determined to avoid the grove. in a few moments the bucks that had been watching the ridge cantered after them. "it is good," said white otter. "now we will find out who is over there on that hill. if it is ma-ya-sh and his people they will go away. if it is our enemies they will keep watching this place." "something is watching," sun bird told him. the head of the mysterious prowler still showed above the ridge. it was boldly outlined against the fading sunset sky. it appeared to be the head of ma-ya-sh, the prairie wolf. the sioux distinctly saw the long, lean snout, and the pointed ears of ma-ya-sh. still they were suspicious. they knew that scouts often covered themselves with the skin of ma-ya-sh to creep up on game, and also to spy upon their foes without arousing distrust. "i do not believe it is ma-ya-sh," white otter declared, finally. "it keeps too still. ma-ya-sh would move around. i believe it is a hunter." "we will watch," said sun bird. "look, look, there is another!" cried little raven. a second head had suddenly appeared. it, too, seemed to be the head of a prairie wolf. the sioux, however, were doubtful. if the distant objects really were wolves, their actions were most unusual. they were careful to keep themselves well concealed behind the ridge, and as the antelopes were a considerable distance to the northward, it was evident that the mysterious creatures were watching the grove. the sioux were concealed in the timber, and there was no possibility of being seen. they determined to watch, therefore, until the strange objects on the ridge either showed themselves or disappeared. in a few moments one withdrew from sight. "that is bad," said white otter. "now i believe they are scouts. perhaps one has gone away to call the hunters. we must watch out." daylight was fading. twilight was settling upon the plain. the sioux found it difficult to distinguish the remaining object on the ridge. they felt considerably relieved to know that night was close at hand. "pretty soon it will be dark," said white otter. "then we will ride away." they waited impatiently for nightfall. their one fear was that a company of foes might ride toward the grove before darkness made it possible to withdraw without being seen. they had little fear of being caught, but they were anxious to avoid being discovered. once seen, they realized that it might be perilous to loiter in the vicinity, and they were eager to remain until they found the buffalo herd. they watched closely until night finally came. then they mounted their ponies and rode from the grove. "well, white otter, how do you feel about it?" little raven inquired, as they rode cautiously toward the east. "i believe we are in danger," white otter told him. they continued across the plain until they came to a shallow ravine, which they had passed on their way to the grove. white otter advised stopping there until daylight. "this is a good place," he said. "we will wait here and listen." they picketed the ponies in the bottom of the gully, and then they crawled to the plain to watch and listen. it was a long time before they heard anything to arouse their suspicions. then they heard the dreary wail of a prairie wolf, in the direction of the grove. although it sounded natural, the sioux distrusted it. twice it rose shrilly through the night, and then it ceased. they were almost certain that it had been a signal. they listened anxiously for an answer from the ridge. the silence, however, continued. "i believe it was a scout," said white otter. "perhaps he was calling his people." "perhaps we will hear the ponies," suggested little raven. "we are too far off," white otter told him. "those people will ride easy." "perhaps it was only ma-ya-sh," said sun bird. "perhaps he went there to drink." "yes, it may be true, but i believe it was some one different," replied white otter. "we are in the country of our enemies. we must be sharp." chapter ii mysterious signals fearful that a company of foes might have taken shelter in the little grove of cottonwoods, the sioux determined to take every precaution against a sudden attack. while little raven remained in the ravine with the ponies, white otter and sun bird seated themselves upon the plain to listen for sounds from the grove. all was still. they began to wonder if they had been needlessly alarmed. at that moment one of the ponies whinnied softly. white otter and sun bird scrambled wildly into the gully. little raven had already seized the pony and turned its head out of the wind. the other ponies also seemed restless and nervous, and white otter and sun bird attempted to quiet them. "it is bad," white otter said, softly. "i believe some one is riding this way." the thought was startling. the sioux stood beside their ponies, listening uneasily. one question flashed through the mind of each of them. were enemies approaching stealthily under cover of the darkness? they heard nothing to give them a clew. many moments passed. the silence increased their suspense. they believed they were in peril. it seemed folly to loiter in the ravine. "come, we will go," whispered white otter. they mounted the ponies and rode from the ravine. once on the plain, they stopped for a moment to listen. then the pony again attempted to call, but little raven silenced it with his riding quirt. the warning was significant. the sioux believed that strange horses were close at hand. they turned their ponies and rode silently away into the night. it was some time before they ventured to speak. "well, my brothers, i believe ma-ya-sh came to find us," white otter laughed, softly, when they were beyond earshot of the ravine. "yes, white otter, i believe your words were true; i believe scouts were peeping over that ridge," sun bird told him. "do you believe they saw us?" little raven asked, anxiously. "no," replied white otter. "perhaps they found out about our ponies." although they realized that it might be perilous to linger in the vicinity, the sioux determined to remain within sight of the grove until they learned if their suspicions were real. when they reached a low ridge, a considerable distance to the eastward, they decided to stop and wait for daylight. "see, pretty soon it will be light," said sun bird. "then we will find out if there is any one over there in that place." when the night shadows finally lifted from the plain, white otter and sun bird concealed themselves below the crest of the ridge to watch, while little raven waited at the base of the slope with the ponies. the grove was in plain sight, and the sioux watched expectantly. "if there are hunters over there, pretty soon they will ride out to look for buffaloes," said sun bird. "perhaps they are watching," white otter reminded him. a few moments later they saw two horsemen ride from the grove, and turn toward the ravine. they rode across the plain at an easy canter, and showed little caution. as they drew near the ravine, however, they became more careful. once within arrow range, they stopped, and it was apparent that they were watching the top of the gully. then they rode slowly forward. "those are the scouts that peeped over that hill," declared white otter. "i believe they are trying to find out about us." the horsemen had disappeared into the ravine. the sioux had been unable to identify them. they felt certain that the strangers would soon find the pony tracks. the idea alarmed them. "perhaps they will follow us," suggested sun bird. "watch," said white otter. the horsemen had suddenly appeared. they had crossed the ravine, and were riding slowly over the plain. the sioux knew at once that they were looking for pony tracks. it was not long before they found them. they followed the trail a bowshot or more, and then they stopped. they were looking directly toward the ridge. the sioux watched them in breathless suspense. they were straining their eyes to identify them, but the distance made it impossible. "i cannot tell who they are," declared white otter. "can you tell about it?" "no; they are too far away," sun bird told him. "perhaps they will come closer." "i believe they are talking about it," said white otter. at that moment the horsemen turned their ponies, and galloped off toward the west. they crossed the ravine, and rode toward the grove. they passed it, however, and continued toward the ridge farther to the westward. it was not long before, they disappeared. "it is bad," declared white otter. "now we do not know who they are." "well, we know that our enemies are in this place," sun bird told him. "now it will be useless to look for the buffaloes. if ta-tan-ka comes, those scouts will tell their people about it. yes, i believe they are looking for buffaloes." "my brother, i feel different about it," said white otter. "perhaps those scouts are with a war party. perhaps they are pawnees. perhaps they are going to fight my people. i must find out about it." sun bird remained silent. it was not the part of a warrior to ask questions. he waited for white otter to explain his plans. "now i will tell you what i propose to do," white otter told him. "we must stay here and watch. perhaps those scouts are trying to fool us. perhaps they are trying to make us believe they have gone away. i believe they are peeping over that hill." "well, they will not catch us," laughed sun bird. while white otter continued to watch, sun bird crept down the slope to tell little raven about the two mysterious horsemen. the ridge to the westward was far away, and white otter knew that it would be impossible to discover any one who might be hiding there. he had little doubt that at least one of the unknown riders had stopped to watch the plain. "did you see anything?" sun bird inquired anxiously, when he returned. "no, i did not see anything, but i believe some one is watching over there on that hill," white otter told him. "then we must be cautious," said sun bird. they watched until the day was half gone, and then, having seen nothing to indicate that foes were loitering in the vicinity, they began to feel somewhat reassured. they wondered if the two horsemen might not have been stray hunters who had been led to the grove by the antelopes. having found the fresh pony tracks, they might have feared to loiter in the locality. in spite of the possibility, however, the sioux resolved to take no chances. "we will keep watching," declared white otter. soon afterward their patience was rewarded when they saw what appeared to be a cloud of dust or smoke rising behind the distant ridge. they watched it with great interest. for some time it puzzled them. it was faint and indistinct, and they wondered if it was dust raised by the hoofs of buffaloes or ponies. then they noted that it seemed to rise intermittently in puffs, and continued in one particular spot. "so-ta, smoke," white otter said, finally. "yes, yes, it is smoke," agreed sun bird. "those scouts are calling their people," declared white otter. "i believe it is a war party." "we will see," said sun bird. in a short time the smoke faded from the sky. the sioux felt sure that the signal had been seen by those for whom it was intended. they had little doubt that a company of horsemen were riding across the plain on the other side of the ridge. "it is bad," said white otter. "those scouts found pony tracks at the place where the trees grow. they followed them to that gully. they found them coming this way. then they were afraid, and went to call their people. i believe they will try to find out about us." "well, my brother, they are a long ways off," sun bird reminded him. "we can keep away from them." "we must stay here and watch," declared white otter. "perhaps it is a big war party of pawnees. perhaps they are going to fight my people. i believe something bad will come of it." "we will keep watching until we find out about it," sun bird assured him. as time passed and they saw nothing more, white otter became uneasy. a disquieting possibility had suddenly presented itself to his mind. it filled him with distrust, and awakened fears for the safety of his people. "i do not like this thing," he told sun bird. "that ridge goes a long ways. we cannot see over it. perhaps a war party is riding along behind that hill. perhaps they are going to the lodges of my people. i would like to look over that hill, and find out about it." "you must not try to do that," sun bird cautioned him. "it would be foolish. i believe scouts are watching over there. if we show ourselves they will come after us." white otter remained silent. he was worried and perplexed. he believed that what sun bird had said was true. still he knew that if a war party of foes was moving against the ogalala camp it was his duty to learn of it, and carry a warning to his people. for the moment, however, he saw no way of accomplishing it. the ridge from which he was watching was parallel with the ridge to the westward, and there was a wide expanse of open plain between them. to reach the other ridge it would be necessary to ride out in full sight of any foes who might be watching from concealment. white otter realized that such a maneuver would be foolhardy. he decided that it would be impossible to do anything before nightfall. "yes, my brother, i see that what you say is true," he said, finally. "the lodges of my people are three sun's travel away. it is a long ways. a war party travels slow so that the ponies will be fresh when the fight begins. there is only one thing to do. we must keep watching until it gets dark. then we will ride over that hill, and try to find out about those people." "i believe it is the best thing to do," said sun bird. late in the day, however, they saw something which convinced them that the two horsemen had been part of a clever stratagem to deceive any one who had been watching. an eagle suddenly appeared high over the plain, and flew toward the grove of cottonwoods. it was evident that the bird intended to alight in the timber. the sioux watched closely. once above the grove, the eagle set its wings and dropped toward the trees. then, as it got nearer, it rose and circled far out over the plain. the sioux were quick to understand the significance of the maneuver. "hi, hu-ya saw something down there among the trees," white otter cried, excitedly. "yes, i believe there is something over there in that place," said sun bird. "i believe scouts are hiding there," declared white otter. "hu-ya has told us about them. it is good." they watched the grove with new interest. they knew that hu-ya, the great war bird, was not likely to be frightened by ma-ya-sh, the prairie wolf, nor ta-to-ka-dan, the antelope, nor even by great ma-to-ho-ta, the bear. they felt quite certain, therefore, that hu-ya had discovered other enemies in the grove. "perhaps a war party is hiding over there," said sun bird. "perhaps they found out about the ponies. perhaps they sent those scouts to fool us." "i do not believe a war party is hiding in that place," white otter told him. "a war party would go away while it was dark." "yes, i believe that is true," agreed sun bird. the sioux were perplexed. although the actions of hu-ya, the war bird, led them to believe that the grove concealed some of their foes, they were unable to guess why the latter had loitered in the timber. while they were trying to solve the mystery they saw another smoke signal rising behind the ridge. it appeared in the place where they had discovered the other signal. the smoke column was light and indistinct, and soon broke into intermittent puffs. in a few moments it ceased. "now i know that some one is hiding over there where the trees grow," declared white otter. "i believe they are scouts. i believe they found out about the ponies. it made them cautious. i believe those riders went to bring the war party. i believe, they will come to that place when it gets dark. we must watch out." "i believe they are pawnees," said sun bird. "i do not know who they are, but i am going to find out about it," white otter told him. chapter iii old enemies they watched until the grove finally faded out in the twilight. then they listened for sounds which might warn them of the arrival of a war party. it was barely dark when they heard signals passing across the plain. the cry of ma-ya-sh sounded faintly from the west. it scarcely died away before an answer rose from the vicinity of the grove. "the war party is coming," said sun bird. "listen!" cautioned white otter. they listened closely. many moments passed. the stillness was unbroken. "what was it?" inquired sun bird. "i heard something, far away," white otter told him. "it sounded like a pony. i believe some one stopped the noise." as time passed and they heard nothing further, they felt sure that a company of foes had arrived at the grove. the thought made them uneasy. they feared that the two scouts would be sure to tell their companions about the pony tracks which crossed the ravine and led away toward the east. the sioux recalled that the mysterious riders had spent some time looking toward the ridge. "perhaps they know we are here," said sun bird. "yes, i believe that is why they went away," replied white otter. "i believe they went to tell their people about it. their friends waited behind those trees to see if any one came over to this place." "well, they did not see us," said sun bird. "no, they could not see us, but perhaps they know some one is watching them," white otter told him. "perhaps scouts will ride over here to find out about it. i believe scouts were close by when we were hiding over there in that gully. now they will come to this hill. it would be foolish to stay here." "well, my brother, what do you propose to do?" inquired sun bird. "i propose to find out about those people," replied white otter. "how can you do that?" "come, we will go to little raven," said white otter. "then i will tell you about it." they crossed back over the ridge, and found little raven waiting with the ponies. he said he had seen nothing but a stray antelope on that side of the ridge. "my brothers, you must listen sharp to what i am about to tell you," said white otter. "i believe a war party is hiding over there where those trees grow. i do not know who it is. that is bad. perhaps it is the pawnees. the pawnees are our enemies. once they came to our village and did much harm. perhaps they are going again to make war on my people. it is true that we came here to look for buffaloes. well, we found something different. we are dacotahs. we must find out who is over there. we must try to find out where they are going. then we will know what to do. perhaps we will do a big thing for my people." white otter paused and waited for his companions to speak. many moments passed before sun bird finally replied. "my brother, your words are good," he said. "you are a great war chief. you are the leader. come, tell us what you propose to do." "my brothers, i am going over there where the trees grow to find out who is there," declared white otter. "now listen sharp. there is only one way to do this thing. i believe scouts will come to this place. if we cross over this hill and go straight ahead we will meet them. we must not do that. i will tell you what to do. that gully where we hid ourselves goes a long ways toward the lodges of my people. it is good. we will follow this ridge that way. when we get past those trees, we will cross this ridge and ride over to that gully. those people will go the other way to look for us. they will follow the tracks of our ponies. when we get to that gully we will listen. if we do not hear anything, i will go ahead and creep up to those trees. perhaps i will find out who is there." "you are very brave, but you must not go there alone," said sun bird. "you will be in great danger. i will go with you." "no, you must not do that," white otter told him. "you must stay behind and help little raven with the ponies. then if anything bad happens to me, perhaps you can help me. it is the best way to do. come, my brothers, we will go away before those scouts come over here and find us." they rode northward along the base of the ridge. they went a long distance before white otter finally turned toward the west. then they rode to the top of the ridge, and stopped to listen. all was still. darkness hid the grove. they knew that the ravine was directly ahead of them, and they advanced cautiously toward the west. "perhaps the ponies will call," little raven suggested, uneasily. "we must be ready," white otter cautioned him. they rode across the plain in silence, alert for the first warning of danger. they realized that at any moment they might encounter scouts moving cautiously through the night along the flank of an advancing war party. when they finally reached the ravine, the night was far gone. white otter and sun bird immediately dismounted, and climbed to the top of the ravine. they looked anxiously in the direction of the grove. it was hidden far away in the darkness. they watched for the tell-tale glow of a fire, but had little hope of seeing it. "no, those people are not so foolish," declared white otter. "well, my brother, if there is no fire it will be hard to see who they are," sun bird told him. "perhaps my ears will tell me that," replied white otter. "i know the words of the pawnees. i know the words of the crows. i know the words of the kiowas. i will get close to that place and listen sharp." "white otter, i believe it would be foolish to go over there," said sun bird. "if you will listen to my words, i will tell you something better." "you are my brother, and you are a chief of the brave minneconjoux--i will listen to your words," agreed white otter. "it is good," declared sun bird. "now i will tell you how i feel about this thing. we are in a good place. those people cannot see us when it gets light. you say perhaps those people are pawnees. it may be true. you say perhaps they are going to fight your people. it may be true. you say it makes you feel bad. you say we must find out about it. it is true. i will tell you the best thing to do. we will stay here until the light comes. then we will watch close. if any one comes away from that place we will see them. if they travel toward the lodges of your people they will go by this place. then we will follow them. we will get close and find out who they are. if they go the other way, we will let them ride away. my brother, i believe it is the best thing to do." white otter kept silent. he was studying the plan of sun bird. the latter waited patiently for him to reply. it was some time before white otter spoke. "sun bird, i have listened to your words, but i will not do as you propose," he said, finally. "you say if those people are going to the lodges of my people they will pass this place. perhaps they have passed by here in the darkness. if we wait here until the light comes perhaps it will be too late to help my people. my brother, i must find out about it. i am going to do what i told you about." "well, you are the leader," sun bird told him. "i will not talk any more against it." "it is good," replied white otter. a few moments afterward he disappeared into the night. choosing a star to guide him in the proper direction, he loped across the plain as easily and as silently as ma-ya-sh, the wolf. aware that there was a possibility of blundering into his foes, he stopped many times to listen. the great plain was steeped in silence. he believed that the strangers had remained in the grove. the thought somewhat relieved his anxiety for his people. he had little fear for himself. having passed through many thrilling adventures, he had learned to look upon danger and death with the stolid indifference of the seasoned warrior. white otter had gone a long distance from the ravine when he suddenly heard the long, dismal wail of a prairie wolf rising through the night. the cry had sounded somewhere near the ridge upon which the sioux had passed the day. white otter smiled as he realized that his prophecy about the scouts had been verified. "they did not find us," he murmured. as the call was not repeated, he continued toward the grove. he believed that the scouts were notifying their comrades that the country was free of foes. white otter found keen satisfaction in the thought of outwitting them. he had little doubt that they were his hated foes, the pawnees, and he felt certain that they were on a war expedition. as he approached the grove, white otter slackened his pace and became as alert and cautious as to-ka-la, the little gray fox. he knew that if a war party had taken possession of the grove, sentinels had been stationed on the plain to watch for foes. "now i must be cautious," he told himself. soon afterward he saw the grim, black outlines of the grove directly ahead of him. it was a number of arrow flights away, however, and he stopped to listen. he heard nothing. then he advanced. slowly, cautiously, he moved through the darkness, listening and watching for the sentinels who he feared were close at hand. then he heard a pony snort. he stopped and waited in breathless suspense. he decided that the sound had come from the grove. he advanced still more cautiously. when he finally came within bowshot of the trees, he suddenly realized his peril. alone and on foot, he knew that once discovered there would be little chance of escape. still he was unafraid. familiarity with danger had given him confidence. "i will get away," he kept telling himself. then he suddenly heard the murmur of voices. for an instant the sound alarmed him. he had approached nearer the grove than he had supposed. he sank noiselessly to the plain. he lay there some time, endeavoring to identify the speakers. it was hopeless. the voices were low and indistinct, and he could not distinguish the words. he realized that he must go nearer. he crept slowly forward, a bow length at a time. then he stopped to listen. the voices had ceased. his heart beat wildly. an alarming possibility flashed through his mind. had he been discovered? it seemed impossible. he banished the thought. the silence, however, made him suspicious. "perhaps they are listening," he whispered. the silence continued. white otter was perplexed. he was less than half a bowshot from the cottonwoods. he heard the leaves trembling. he moistened his finger, and found the direction of the breeze. it was stirring toward the grove. he felt relieved. it seemed less likely that he had been discovered. still he was uneasy. the sudden hush alarmed him. "yes, they must be listening," he declared. a moment afterward a pony whinnied. it seemed to be on the other side of the grove. it was answered by several ponies in the timber. then some one called. the signal was low and guarded. a reply came from the grove. white otter heard hoofbeats. some one was riding toward the cottonwoods. white otter listened in trying suspense. he heard many voices. he breathed easier. the mystery was explained. he suddenly realized that the scouts had returned. it was the sound of their approach that had hushed the speakers in the grove. "it is good," white otter said, with great relief. he believed that as the scouts had failed to find evidence of foes, the company in the grove might grow bolder. the next few moments seemed to confirm his hopes. the strangers were talking with far less caution. still he was unable to catch their words. "i must go nearer," he said. he crawled carefully toward the timber, stopping after each bow length to watch and listen. the sounds from the grove reassured him. the warriors were talking and laughing, and apparently had little fear of attack. the ponies, too, were making considerable noise. he heard them stamping, and grunting and shaking themselves. however, he felt quite certain that they were securely picketed. the sky was sprinkled with stars, and it was possible to see several bow lengths through the night, but white otter knew that it would be impossible to penetrate the sinister black shadows which enveloped the grove. his ears alone might tell him what he wished to know. he was quite familiar with the words of the pawnees, and the crows, and had heard the dialect of the kiowas, and he hoped to identify the strangers by their talk. it was a difficult and perilous undertaking, for white otter knew that to be successful he must approach close up to the edge of the timber. the night was well advanced and he knew that there was little time to spare. the ravine was far away, and he realized that he would be compelled to exert himself to the utmost to reach it before daylight betrayed him to his foes. once discovered on the open plain there would be little hope of escape. he determined to make his attempt without further delay. for a moment only he hesitated, while he turned his face toward the sky. "wa-kan-tun-ka, make me strong to do this thing," he murmured. then he began his perilous, stealthy advance toward the timber. the sounds convinced him that the strangers were assembled at the pool in the center of the grove. he feared, however, that sharp-eared sentinels might be lurking at the edge of the plain. aware that the slightest sound might betray him, he sank close to the earth and crept forward as cautiously as a panther stalking its prey. it took many moments to go a bow length. he had stopped behind a dense cluster of bushes close to the edge of the timber, when he was startled by the sound of voices within several bow lengths of him. he believed he had encountered the sentinels. scarcely daring to breathe, he pressed his body against the plain and listened. the words of the speakers came distinctly to his ears. he failed to recognize them. they were not the words of the pawnees. they did not sound like the words of the crows. the dialect seemed strange and unfamiliar. for some moments white otter was confused. he wondered if his ears were deceiving him. then he suddenly identified the peculiar accent. several years before he had heard it in the kiowa camp. the mystery was solved. the people in the grove were kiowas. having learned the identity of his foes, white otter was equally eager to know if it was a war party or only a company of hunters. he saw little chance of gaining the information. unable to see the warriors or to understand their words, there seemed no way to guess the intentions of the kiowas. in the meantime the night was slipping by. daylight was not far off. white otter knew that it would be perilous to loiter. nevertheless he waited, each moment hoping to hear something which might tell him whether the kiowas were out for peace or war. at last he was rewarded. he heard sounds in the timber which convinced him that the kiowas were dancing, and singing their war songs. the scouts at the edge of the grove had joined in the chant, and white otter seized the opportunity to retreat. raising himself from the ground, he crawled slowly backward until he had gone a bow length. then he stopped to listen. the sounds still came from the grove, but he heard nothing from the sentinels. their silence aroused his fears. alarming possibilities suggested themselves. were the kiowa sentinels listening? had he betrayed himself? he sank to the plain and waited. the moments seemed endless. the uncertainty tried his courage. he was tempted to spring to his feet, and dash wildly across the plain. he realized that the kiowas would soon overtake him. then he heard the sentinels talking and making their way into the grove. they had abandoned their vigil. his heart filled with joy. he had accomplished his mission. the way was open. he was free to go. the eastern sky was already turning gray when white otter finally approached the spot where he had left sun bird and little raven. he stopped and imitated the bark of the little gray fox. three times he gave the signal. then he listened for an answer. a familiar voice sounded softly through the darkness. "the way is clear," said sun bird. a moment afterward white otter joined him at the top of the ravine. they descended into the gully to join little raven. "well, my brothers, i have found out about those people," white otter told his companions. "they are kiowas. i believe it is a war party." "how did you find out about it?" inquired little raven. "i went ahead until i got close to those trees," said white otter. "then i crawled up behind some bushes. then i heard some one talking. i did not know the words. pretty soon i found out about it. it sounded like the kiowas. i waited a long time. then i heard those people dancing and singing. then i said: 'it is a war party.' that is all i know about it." "well, pretty soon it will be light," sun bird told him. "then we will find out what the kiowas propose to do." "yes, we must watch them until we know where they are going," said white otter. chapter iv trailing a war party at daylight the sioux peered anxiously toward the grove. it was some time before the little cluster of trees emerged from the shadows. at that moment the kiowas appeared. "see, there are our enemies," said sun bird. "watch sharp," white otter cautioned him. although the kiowas were too far away to be counted, the sioux saw at once that it was a large company. they felt sure it was a war party. the kiowas had turned toward the north. white otter watched them with considerable uneasiness. "it is bad," he said. "there are many warriors. they are riding toward the lodges of my people. we must follow them." "yes, yes, we will follow them," declared sun bird. they watched closely as the kiowas rode slowly across the plain. they were a long distance to the westward of the ravine, and were moving directly toward the north. as they drew nearer, the sioux began to count them. there were sixty horsemen in the company. they made an imposing spectacle as they rode along in pairs. even at the distance the sioux noted that some of the warriors in the lead wore great war bonnets, and they knew that those men were chiefs and war leaders. then several riders left the column and galloped away in advance of the company. "the scouts are going ahead to watch for enemies," said sun bird. "hi, they are coming this way," cried white otter. two riders had turned toward the east, and were riding toward the ravine. they were some distance to the southward of the sioux, but the latter were greatly alarmed. they felt quite certain that the crafty scouts would follow along the top of the ravine to make sure that it was free of foes. the sioux were in despair. they feared that they had run into a trap. there seemed to be no way of escape. discovery seemed certain. "they will find us!" cried sun bird. white otter watched the horsemen in thoughtful silence. he was searching his brain for a way out of the predicament. the scouts had covered three-quarters of the distance to the ravine. delay was perilous. roused by the thought, white otter suddenly determined to race away in full sight of his foes. "come," he cried, as he scrambled wildly into the ravine. "the kiowas are coming!" sun bird told little raven. "jump on your ponies and follow me," shouted white otter. they rode boldly out upon the plain, and turned toward the east. glancing back they saw that the kiowas had stopped at sight of them. the scouts made no effort to follow. "it is good," cried white otter. "the kiowas do not know what to do. we will fool them." convinced that their foes had no intention of pursuing them, the sioux slackened the speed of their ponies. then, when they had gone a safe distance, they turned to watch the perplexed kiowas. the latter were gathered in a close group, and appeared to be holding a council. "well, we are far enough away, now we will wait here and see what those people propose to do," said white otter. "do you believe they know who we are?" little raven asked him. "no," replied white otter. a moment afterward the kiowas resumed their advance toward the north. the scouts had joined their comrades. white otter was perplexed. he had expected the war party to turn in another direction. if the kiowas really were bound for the ogalala camp he believed they would attempt to conceal their intentions. the fact that they continued boldly on their way aroused his suspicions. "i do not know what to make of it," he told his companions. "if those people are going to my village, i believe they will turn around to fool us." "i do not believe they know who we are," said sun bird. "perhaps they took us for pawnees or cheyennes. perhaps they do not believe we will follow them." "yes, yes, i see that what you say is true," white otter replied, hopefully. "they do not know who we are. i believe they take us for cheyenne hunters. it is good. if they keep going ahead, we will circle around and get ahead of them. then we will go to tell my people. when the kiowas come to fight us, we will be waiting for them." the kiowas had urged their ponies into a canter. the scouts were riding toward the ravine. the sioux watched curiously. they wondered if the kiowas intended to ignore them. "it is mysterious," white otter declared, suspiciously. "my brothers, i believe those people are trying to fool us. we must be sharp." the scouts turned and rode along the top of the ravine, and the war party continued toward the north. sun bird and little raven waited for white otter to announce his plans. the latter, however, remained silent. he seemed bewildered by the unusual behavior of the kiowas. he was watching the two scouts. they glanced back at frequent intervals to make sure that the sioux were not following them. otherwise they showed little interest. "it is mysterious," white otter said, again. "i do not know what to make of it. come, sun bird, tell me how you feel about it." "the kiowas are going toward your village--it looks bad," sun bird told him. "we must follow them," said white otter. "come, we will try to fool them." he rode away toward the east. the two minneconjoux asked no questions. they looked upon him as the leader, and they were content to rely upon his judgment. as they cantered across the plain they glanced back at the kiowas. the two scouts had stopped, and appeared to be looking after them. "those scouts are watching us," said little raven. "it is good," laughed white otter. "we will fool them. come, ride faster." they galloped the ponies. then, as they again looked back, they saw that the war party, too, had stopped, far away to the westward. white otter laughed gleefully. he turned to the southward, toward the ridge which they had left the day before. his companions believed that he was planning some wily stratagem to deceive his foes. "keep watching," cautioned white otter. "perhaps those scouts will follow us." the kiowas, however, showed no intention of riding after them. one of the scouts was racing toward the war party. the sioux believed he had gone for instructions. they kept looking back to see what he would do after he had talked with his companions. "see, see, he is riding back to that gully," cried little raven. "perhaps they are going to follow us." "no, i do not believe it," said sun bird. the war party was moving on toward the north. a few moments afterward the scout rejoined his companion. then they, too, rode northward along the top of the ravine. it was apparent that the kiowas had decided to pay no further attention to the sioux. "the kiowas are sly," declared white otter. "i cannot tell what they propose to do. perhaps they are going to the lodges of my people. perhaps they are trying to fool us. we must follow them and find out about it." when the sioux finally reached the ridge, the kiowas had already disappeared into a dip of the plain. once over the ridge, white otter and sun bird left their ponies with little raven, and climbed the slope to watch. they had little doubt that the crafty kiowa scouts were similarly employed far away to the northward. "now i will tell you why i came here," said white otter. "i do not believe the kiowas know who we are. i believe they take us for scouts. perhaps they take us for cheyennes. the cheyenne village is behind us. i came this way to make them believe we were going there. when those scouts do not see us, they will believe we have gone away. then they will go ahead. we will follow them." "it is good," sun bird told him. they had not watched long, however, before white otter became impatient. he realized that he was wasting valuable time. he wondered if he had blundered. if the kiowas really intended to go to the ogalala camp, he feared that he had given them a big advantage. they were a long distance ahead of him, and he knew that it would be necessary to ride hard to beat them to the goal. the thought shook his confidence. he began to doubt the wisdom of his maneuver. each moment added to his uncertainty. he studied the plain for a way to follow the war party without being seen. the ridge offered the only opportunity. it extended a considerable distance toward the north, and by riding along the east side of it he believed he might again come in sight of his foes. "come, sun bird, we will ride along behind this hill, and try to follow the kiowas," he said. then little raven called, and when they turned they saw him pointing excitedly toward the north. looking across the plain, they discovered a riderless pony running toward the west. "bring up the ponies! bring up the ponies!" white otter called, in alarm. they hurried down the ridge and met little raven. then they sprang upon the ponies, and galloped over the ridge. once over the top, they ran back to watch, while little raven took charge of the ponies. two horsemen had already appeared in pursuit of the runaway pony. the sioux realized that they had barely escaped discovery. "they did not see us," declared sun bird. "it is good," said white otter. they watched the race with great interest. the riders soon overtook the pony. then they turned about and cantered away toward the east. the sioux looked inquiringly at one another. who were the strange riders? where had they come from? was another war party in the vicinity? the alarming questions flashed through their minds. they were puzzled. "i believe it is the kiowas," white otter declared, finally. "i believe they have turned toward the-place-where-the-day-begins." "then they must be trying to fool us," said sun bird. "i do not know what they are trying to do," white otter replied, suspiciously. in the meantime the distant horsemen had disappeared, and the plain seemed free of foes. the sioux looked toward the east. they examined the tops of the knolls and ridges, and watched closely for dust, but saw nothing to convince them that the war party had gone in that direction. "this thing is mysterious," said sun bird. they realized that they were in an awkward predicament. they knew that if scouts were loitering in the vicinity of the spot where they had last seen the kiowa war party it would be perilous to remain on the western side of the ridge. still, if they crossed the ridge and attempted to advance along the other side they feared they would be discovered by scouts watching somewhere on that side of the plain. for some moments they were undecided as to just what to do. "my brothers, i will tell you how i feel about this thing," sun bird said, suddenly. "if the kiowas have turned toward the-place-where-the-day-begins, i do not believe they are going to the lodges of our people. if that is true, it would be foolish to follow them. i believe there are many enemies in this country. we must not stay here. come, we will ride around and find out if the buffaloes have come into this place. then we will go back to our people." "sun bird, before we go away we must find out about this thing," white otter told him. "perhaps it is true that the kiowas are not going to the lodges of my people. we are not sure about it. perhaps they know who we are. perhaps they turned around to fool us. perhaps if we do not follow them they will circle around and come to the lodges of my people. my brothers, we must find out where those kiowas are going." "how can we do that?" inquired little raven. "a war party leaves scouts behind. if we try to follow the kiowas before it gets dark those scouts will see us. if we wait until it gets dark the kiowas will be too far away." "listen sharp, my brothers, and i will tell you how i propose to do this thing," said white otter. "it would be foolish to follow along this hill. if we do that the kiowas will see us. we will do something different. we will cross over this hill, and ride away toward the-place-where-the-day-begins. if the kiowas are watching they will say, 'hi, those scouts were hiding behind that hill. now they believe we have gone away. see, they are going to tell their people about it. they are riding toward the cheyenne camp. they must be cheyennes.' we will keep going toward the cheyenne lodges. then we will circle around, and try to find the kiowas. if we do not find them over there, we will know that they have gone to fight my people." "it is good," agreed sun bird. "we will go," said white otter. they crossed the ridge, and rode boldly away toward the southeast, in the direction of the cheyenne camp. they had little doubt that sharp-eyed kiowa scouts were watching them. they glanced back many times, but saw nothing to confirm their suspicions. toward the end of the day they came in sight of another little grove of cottonwoods. they circled about it many times before they finally ventured within arrow-range. the grove was unoccupied, and contained a tiny pool. they killed several sage grouse in the timber. "it is good," said white otter. "we will stay here until the sun goes away. then we will circle around and try to find the kiowas." at the end of the day they left the grove and rode off toward the north, hoping to cross the trail of the war party. twilight had already fallen upon the plain when they finally found the fresh tracks of many ponies. the trail led toward the east. the sioux felt sure that it had been made by the kiowas. "now we know that your people are safe," declared sun bird. "yes, i believe it is true," replied white otter. he was gazing thoughtfully across the plain. a new possibility had suddenly suggested itself. he felt certain that he had guessed the destination of his foes. he turned eagerly to his companions. "now i know about this thing," he told them, excitedly. "i believe those kiowas are going to fight the cheyennes. yes, now i see how it is. they took us for cheyennes. they tried to fool us. when we went away they circled around and came over here. yes, yes, those kiowas are going to fight the cheyennes." "i believe it is true," said sun bird. "now we know about it. well, we will not follow them. we will go back and look for buffaloes." white otter was silent. his friends saw that he was thinking about something. they waited for him to speak. "the cheyennes are our friends," he said at last. "once we went with them to fight the pawnees. once we went with them to fight the kiowas. we took away some good ponies in that fight. the cheyennes are very brave. red dog, their chief, is our friend. my brothers, i am thinking about these things." "how do you feel about it?" inquired sun bird. "i will tell you," said white otter. "we are dacotahs. the brave cheyennes are our friends. the boastful kiowas are our enemies. a dacotah helps his friends and fights his enemies. i am going to tell the cheyennes about the kiowas." "it is good," declared sun bird. "hi, we will go to the village of our brothers the cheyennes, and help them fight the kiowas," little raven cried, enthusiastically. chapter v off to warn the cheyennes having resolved to carry a warning to their friends, the cheyennes, the sioux abandoned their peaceful hunting expedition, and prepared for war. the idea filled them with enthusiasm. the kiowas were old foes who stole sioux ponies and killed sioux hunters at every opportunity, and the three young scouts were ready and eager to make war upon them. it was not the first time they had maneuvered against the kiowas, and they had learned from experience that the latter were brave and crafty foes. "white otter, you are a great war chief, you must be the leader," declared sun bird. "yes, white otter, you are the leader," agreed little raven. "tell us what you propose to do." "we must get to the cheyenne village ahead of the kiowas," white otter told them. "we will not follow them. we will circle back toward the cheyenne lodges. come, we must go." they turned about and rode in the direction of the cheyenne camp. it was a day's journey distant, and they realized that to beat the kiowas they must reach the village before the next sunrise. the day was almost gone, and the light was fading from the plain. aware that it would be necessary to ride continuously through the night, they held the ponies to an easy canter. as they rode they kept a sharp watch to the eastward where the heavy night shadows were already forming. they were fearful that the kiowas might have discovered them. in that event they felt sure that those crafty foes would endeavor to intercept them before they reached the cheyennes. "there is a hill over there," white otter said, suspiciously. "it is bad. perhaps the kiowas are riding along behind it." they looked anxiously into the east, but the ridge had vanished into the dusk. they wondered if grim kiowa warriors were racing along behind the barrier. the idea troubled them. they rode faster. the approach of darkness, however, gave them confidence. they believed it would be possible to elude their foes under cover of the night. when they finally turned toward the east the plain was dark. they rode more cautiously. it was not long before they heard sounds which made them suspicious. a wolf howled somewhere ahead of them. they immediately stopped to listen. they heard it a second time, but it seemed perfectly natural. "it sounds like ma-ya-sh," said little raven. "i believe it is a kiowa," white otter told him. "we must watch out." they turned from their course, and rode on at a walk. before they had gone an arrow flight, they heard the cry of the wolf a short distance north of them. they wondered if the scout who had called before had circled to search for them. "no, i believe it is some one different," whispered white otter. "it did not sound the same." "your ears are sharp," said sun bird. a moment afterward a pony whinnied shrilly. little raven's pony replied. they stopped in alarm. it was apparent that the kiowas were on all sides of them. they feared that the pony had betrayed them. they were at a loss to know just what to do. "listen," cautioned white otter. they waited anxiously to hear the hoofbeats of advancing ponies. the plain was still. they wondered if the kiowas, too, had stopped to listen. the possibility made them cautious. they feared to ride away before they located their foes. they believed that if the kiowas heard them they might close in and make it impossible to escape. their only chance seemed to be to withdraw quietly, and slip away in the darkness. "it is bad," white otter whispered. "perhaps some of the kiowas will try to keep us here until their friends ride to the cheyenne camp." "yes, yes, i believe it is what they are trying to do," declared sun bird. the thought aroused them. they realized that each moment of delay lessened the chance of arriving at the cheyenne village in time to warn their friends. they feared that the war party was racing wildly through the night in an effort to beat them to the goal. "we must go ahead," said white otter. they rode cautiously toward the east. when they had gone several arrow flights without encountering their foes they became bolder. they urged the ponies to a canter. a moment later a piercing yell rose behind them. it was answered on both sides of them. they heard the hoofbeats of galloping ponies. "keep going! keep going!" cried white otter. aware that further caution would be useless, they lashed the ponies to top speed, and began a wild race across the plain. they heard the kiowas thundering after them. they were whooping savagely, and the sioux learned that they were on three sides of them. the front appeared to be open. then white otter suddenly suspected a trap. "watch out for the hill!" he cried, warningly. they feared that other kiowas were waiting for them on top of the ridge. there seemed to be no way to avoid them. with foes on both sides of them, they were forced to ride ahead. ready to fight those who might attempt to bar the way, they stared anxiously into the night for a sight of the low, black barrier that threatened them with disaster. it soon loomed up through the darkness. they drew their bows and prepared to fight. then, when they had almost reached the base of the ridge, white otter attempted a bold bit of stratagem to outwit his foes. "stop! stop!" he cried. they threw the ponies upon their haunches. then they listened. the kiowas rushed past them. white otter saw his opportunity. there was not a moment to spare. "come!" he shouted, as he rode wildly toward the south. the trick had been successful. the kiowas rode part way up the ridge before they discovered that they had passed their foes. then they dashed recklessly down the slope, and stopped for an instant to learn which way the sioux had gone. "follow me," cried white otter. when they had gone a bowshot, the sioux turned up the ridge and swept over the summit before the kiowas who were waiting to intercept them learned what had happened. they reached the level plain and were a full bowshot away when they heard the kiowas riding furiously down the ridge in pursuit of them. "ride faster!" shouted white otter. they forced the ponies to the utmost in an effort to get beyond hearing of their foes. the kiowas had become quiet. even the sounds from their ponies had died away. the sioux felt encouraged. they believed they had ridden beyond earshot of their pursuers. still they kept the ponies to the exhausting pace, for they determined to make the most of their advantage. "we have fooled them--it is good," laughed white otter. "they cannot hear us. they do not know which way to go." "white otter, you are as sharp as to-ka-la, the fox," sun bird told him. "yes, yes, you were too sharp for the kiowas," declared little raven. "well, my brothers, we must not feel too big about this thing," white otter cautioned them. "the war party is ahead of us. we must watch out." he had barely ceased speaking when they heard the wolf cry rising through the night. it sounded far behind them. three times it echoed across the plain. they knew at once that it was a signal. "the scouts are telling their friends about us," said white otter. they listened for an answer. they hoped it would give them a clew to the whereabouts of the war party. there was no reply. it was evident that the main company of kiowas were either beyond hearing or too cautious to betray themselves. the first possibility gave the sioux considerable concern. if the war party was beyond hearing, they realized that it was far in advance of them. they wondered if their ponies were equal to the task of overtaking their foes. "we must go faster," white otter said, impatiently. the ponies were running at speed which few ponies in the dacotah nation could equal, and the sioux believed that if they could maintain the pace they would eventually overtake and pass the kiowas. the gallant little beasts showed no signs of weakening, and the riders made no effort to spare them. white otter rode a fiery little piebald which had been presented to him by curly horse, the war chief of the minneconjoux sioux. it had proved its powers on an expedition against the blackfeet the year previous, when it outran the famous black war pony of the blackfeet chief. many buffaloes. white otter had little fear that it would fail him in the present emergency. sun bird rode a wiry little roan, that had proved a worthy competitor of the piebald. little raven was mounted upon a wild-eyed pinto, which white otter had presented to him several years before. it, too, was famous for speed and endurance. convinced that there was slight danger of being overtaken by the scouts, the sioux fixed their thoughts upon the war party. the wolf calls still came from the west, but there was no response from the east. white otter wondered if the main force of kiowas really were as far away as they appeared to be. "perhaps they are watching for us," suggested sun bird. "perhaps they are keeping quiet so that we will not know where they are." "it may be true," said white otter. they had little doubt that the kiowas would make every effort to prevent them from carrying a warning to the cheyenne camp. white otter believed that the war party planned to approach the village under cover of the night, and make a sudden attack at daylight. "we will tell the cheyennes about it," he said. "they will be ready when the kiowas come to fight them." the sioux were still a long distance from their goal, however, and they feared to become too confident. two disturbing possibilities confronted them. one was that they might eventually encounter the war party. the other was that the courageous little ponies might suddenly collapse with exhaustion. the latter thought caused them the most anxiety. they decided to ride at an easier pace. then white otter resolved to turn more to the southward in the hope of passing the kiowas. he also believed that it would offer a shorter and more direct route to the cheyenne camp. the signals from the west had ceased, and the sioux wondered if the scouts had abandoned hope of getting into communication with the war party. then the hateful call suddenly sounded across the plain. it seemed considerably nearer. they were perplexed. had the kiowas actually gained upon them? it seemed unlikely. "perhaps we have passed the war party," said sun bird. "it is mysterious," declared white otter. "i believe we are running into danger." they stopped for a moment to listen. the ponies had barely come to a standstill when they heard another signal directly ahead of them. it was so distinct and close at hand that it startled them. the one who had made it seemed to be within arrow range. the sioux believed that they had overtaken the war party. the thought roused them. they wondered if the kiowas had discovered them. they heard a horse cantering across the plain. it was somewhere on their right. it passed, and they felt relieved. then they heard voices. the speakers were within bow range. the rider was moving toward them. the voices ceased as the pony drew near. then the sioux heard a low, cautious challenge pass between the scouts. a moment afterward they resumed their talk. the rider had joined his friends. "the kiowas have left scouts behind to watch," white otter whispered. "pretty soon those other scouts will come. we must get away." then several of the kiowa ponies called, and the sioux rode away at a furious pace. the kiowas instantly raised the alarm, and raced after them. white otter heard an arrow pass over his head. "keep low on your ponies!" he cried. "the kiowas are shooting their arrows." the sioux ponies soon carried their riders beyond danger, and then white otter veered sharply in his course and threw the kiowas from the trail. although there seemed to have been a number of riders, the sioux believed that they were scouts, and that the war party was still riding toward the cheyenne camp. "they will not catch us again," laughed white otter, as he turned still farther to the southward. chapter vi a perilous mission daylight was close at hand when the sioux suddenly heard the dogs barking furiously in the cheyenne village. the sounds filled them with alarm. had they arrived too late to warn the cheyennes? had the kiowas beaten them to the goal? had the fight begun? the possibilities tried their courage. lashing their exhausted ponies into a final, heart-breaking sprint they raced recklessly toward the camp. as they came within bowshot of the village they heard a company of horsemen riding to meet them. they drew in the ponies, and listened in trying suspense. had they encountered friends or foes? they determined to take no chances. drawing their bows, they waited for the riders to approach. they had stopped. they, too, were suspicious and cautious. "ho, cheyennes, we are dacotahs," cried white otter. "we have come to help you." they heard the murmur of voices. a pony called. then all was still. the sioux waited impatiently. many moments passed. they became suspicious. "i believe it is the kiowas," said sun bird. as he spoke a voice sounded from the darkness. it addressed them in the sioux dialect. "ho, dacotahs, tell us who you are," it said. "watch out, perhaps the kiowas are trying to catch us," said sun bird. "i am white otter; ask your chief red dog about me," white otter called out. "ho, my brother, we will come to meet you," said the stranger. "wait," cried white otter. "first tell me who you are." "i am painted weasel--do you know me?" "yes, i know you," said white otter. the sioux advanced and found a small company of cheyennes waiting a short distance from the village. painted weasel was an old friend whom the sioux greeted warmly. they found a number of other acquaintances in the company that had ridden out to intercept them. painted weasel, however, was the only one who spoke their words. "your ponies have run fast," said painted weasel. "has anything bad happened to you?" "my brother, the kiowas are coming to fight you," white otter told him. "we found out about it, and came here to tell you. they are close by. there is little time. ride to the camp and call your warriors." painted weasel addressed his companions. when he finished speaking, three cheyennes rode silently into the night. the sioux knew that they had gone to watch for the kiowas. "come," said painted weasel. when they arrived at the camp they were met by red dog, the cheyenne war chief, an old friend and ally whom white otter and sun bird had saved from death at the hands of the pawnees. "ho, my brothers, you have come to our lodges--it is good," cried red dog. "no, red dog, it is bad," white otter told him. "we came here to tell you that the kiowas are coming to fight you. they are close by. you must get ready." when red dog repeated the warning to his tribesmen, they were thrown into a frenzy of excitement. in a few few moments the camp was in an uproar. all was confusion, as the alarmed cheyennes ran through the village calling the people from the lodges. then red dog took command, and restored order. "light the fires!" he cried. "drive in the ponies." the women and boys brought fuel for the fires. a company of young men rode out on the plain to drive in the ponies. the warriors gathered eagerly about their chief. the sioux noted that the cheyennes were few in numbers. "it is bad," red dog told white otter. "many of our warriors have gone to hunt buffaloes. there are few of us here. it will be hard to hold off the kiowas." "we will help you," said white otter. "it is good," replied red dog. "i have seen you do big things. my people will feel strong because you are here." fires had been lighted to prevent the kiowas from entering the camp under cover of the darkness. soon afterward the young men drove in the ponies. they were driven into a stout corral. then the warriors stationed themselves along the edge of the village to watch for the kiowas. the sioux joined red dog. the latter was a cripple, having had both legs broken at the time the sioux saved him from the pawnees. "see, it is getting light," white otter said, hopefully. "i believe the kiowas will hold back. perhaps they know that we have told you about them." "do they know who you are?" inquired red dog. "no," replied white otter. "i believe they took us for your people." "it is good," declared red dog. as darkness finally passed, and dawn lighted the plain, the little company of cheyennes looked anxiously toward the west. the kiowas, however, failed to appear. the cheyennes felt more hopeful. they believed there was less chance of the kiowas attacking the camp in daylight. "if they do not know that our people are away, they will be cautious," said red dog. "perhaps they were coming here to run off ponies." "yes, i believe that is what they proposed to do," white otter told him. soon afterward they saw three of the cheyenne scouts riding toward the camp. when they arrived, the warriors crowded about them to learn what they had discovered. they said that they had heard nothing of the kiowas during the night, but at daylight they had discovered what appeared to be a wolf, at the top of a ravine some distance to the westward. the actions of the wolf had convinced them that it was a disguised scout, and they believed the war party was hiding in the ravine. two of the cheyenne scouts had remained out on the plain to watch. "yes, i believe that wolf was a kiowa," white otter told red dog. "that is how they tried to fool us, but we were too sharp." "i do not believe they will come here while it is light," said red dog. "thunder hawk and running buffalo are watching. they are sharp. the kiowas will not get past them." convinced that there was no immediate danger of an attack, the cheyennes relaxed their vigilance. red dog appointed some of the older boys to watch along the edge of the camp, while the warriors assembled in council to discuss plans for defending the village. "my brothers, the kiowas are close by," said red dog. "our brothers, the sioux, have told us about them. it was a big thing to do. if these brave sioux had not come here, perhaps the kiowas would have run off many ponies. now we know about it. the kiowas are strong. there are few of us. it will be hard to keep them out of the camp. we must send scouts to bring back the hunters. then we must make a big fight until our people come." "red dog, give us fresh ponies, and we will go to find your brothers," white otter told him. "it is good," said red dog. "cheyennes, the sioux are our friends. they are going to bring back the hunters. they are great scouts. the kiowas cannot fool them. come, my brothers, lead out three of my best war ponies for these brave sioux." three of the best ponies in the cheyenne tribe were brought for white otter and his companions. when they mounted them and prepared to ride away, an old man came forward and signaled that he wished to speak to them. "it is ghost bear, he is a great medicine person," red dog told them. "young men, i have some words for you," he said in the sioux tongue. "you came here to help us. you are our friends. i know about you. you are brave. you are going into great danger. you are going into the country of our enemies, the pawnees. i do not wish anything bad to happen to you. that is why i am going to help you. but first tell me who is the leader." "my brother, white otter, is the leader," sun bird told him. "he is a great war chief of the ogalalas. he has done many big things." "yes, yes, i know that white otter is a great chief," said ghost bear. "i know that he saved the life of red dog. i know that he went with our people to fight the kiowas. now, white otter, i am going to give you something to keep you safe. you must wear this mysterious medicine bag about your neck. it will make you strong and keep you from harm. it will give you power to overcome your enemies." he advanced to white otter and gave him a small buckskin bag. white otter fastened it about his neck. the superstitious young ogalala felt certain that it contained some mysterious medicine token which would guard him against misfortune. "ghost bear, i see that you are a great medicine person," he said. "you have given me this mysterious medicine thing. i will keep it. i believe it will make me strong." "my brothers, you are about to ride away, perhaps the kiowas will try to catch you," said red dog. "i do not believe they will be able to come up with those ponies. we will keep watching. if the kiowas go after you, we will ride out and drive them back." "no, my brother, that would be foolish," white otter told him. "ghost bear has given me this great medicine thing. i see that these ponies are fast. the kiowas cannot harm us. you must keep watching. the kiowas are sharp. pretty soon we will bring back your brothers. then we will ride out and chase away the kiowas. we will take many ponies. now we are going away. be brave, my friends." then the three sioux scouts rode away toward the south. the cheyennes stood at the edge of the camp and looked after them. they kept a sharp watch to the westward. there was no sign of their foes. they wondered if the kiowas had discovered the three horsemen. "i do not believe the kiowas will follow them," red dog said, hopefully. they continued to watch until the sioux were far away. then they felt less anxious. having gained a big lead, they believed the sioux would have little difficulty in keeping ahead of their foes. then they suddenly discovered something which filled them with gloomy forebodings of evil. a golden eagle, the war bird, had appeared in the sky. it was circling directly over the camp. the cheyennes watched it with superstitious fear. "it is bad," cried old ghost bear, the medicine man. "it means war." "look, look, the great war bird is flying toward the place where the kiowas are hiding," cried the cheyennes. "it is a bad sign," the old men declared, solemnly. "my brothers, we must get ready to fight," said ghost bear. "the war bird has warned us. i believe the kiowas will come to the village." chapter vii red dog's stratagem shortly after the sioux had disappeared, the cheyennes discovered what appeared to be smoke, far away to the westward. they watched for some time before they became convinced that it was not a cloud. then as they finally agreed that it was smoke, they felt sure that it was a signal from the kiowa war party. "it is bad," said red dog. "i believe the kiowas are waiting for more warriors. they are sending up that smoke to tell them where they are." "it must be so," declared painted weasel, a famous scout. the possibility filled the cheyennes with gloom. already outnumbered by the war party in the distant ravine, they realized that there was little chance of holding the village against a still stronger force of foes. for a moment they gave way to despair. some of them proposed to abandon the camp, and seek safety in flight. "no, no, that would be useless," red dog cried fiercely. "look about you. do you see the old people and the women and children? well, my brothers, think about it. they cannot travel fast. if we try to get away, the kiowas will soon come up with us. then most of us will be killed. we must stay here and fight. we are cheyennes. does a cheyenne throw away his women and children to save himself? i am your chief. i will stay here and fight back the kiowas until our brothers come to help us." the words of red dog roused the fighting blood of his warriors. they replied with a ringing war cry that echoed threateningly across the plain, and carried a bold challenge to their foes. the courage of their chief gave them confidence, and they were eager to meet the kiowas. some of the old men ran for the war drums. then the warriors gathered in the center of the camp, and began to dance and sing their boastful war songs. "it is good," cried red dog. "i see that you are ready to fight. if the kiowas come to the village we will kill them and take away their ponies." once begun, the war ceremonies were continued far into the day. then they were suddenly brought to an end by the appearance of one of the scouts who was racing toward the camp. when he came nearer they recognized him as white horse, a noted warrior. as he rode his sweating pony into the village, the cheyennes gathered eagerly about him to learn what he had seen. "it is bad," white horse told them. "many more kiowas have gone into that gully." "come, get off your pony and tell us about it," said red dog. "well, my brothers, i was watching with running buffalo and thunder hawk," said white horse. "for a long time we did not see anything. then we saw some smoke. it was far away. pretty soon it stopped. then we saw some smoke coming out of that gully. then we said, 'some more kiowas are coming. they are over there where we saw that first smoke. they are trying to find the war party.' then we watched close. pretty soon we saw a scout crawl out of that gully. he looked all around. he could not see us. then he looked toward that place where the smoke was. he looked a long time. pretty soon we saw some one on a pony over there. then the man who came out of the gully began to wave a robe. then the man on the pony began to ride around. running buffalo said, 'those kiowas are talking to one another.' we kept watching. pretty soon we saw many riders coming out of the place where the smoke was. they were riding toward that gully. then some more kiowas came out of the gully to watch. they were waving their arms. the riders came faster. then they all went into that gully. my brothers, it is a great war party. i believe they will come to the village when it gets dark. now i have told you about it." the cheyennes remained silent for some moments after white horse had ceased speaking. his words had confirmed the significance of the distant smoke signal. they believed that the odds against them had doubled. the thought sobered them. they felt little inclination to talk. at last, however, old ghost bear rose to address them. "my friends, white horse has brought bad words," he told them. "he says that many kiowas are hiding over there in that gully. what i told you about the great war bird has come true. i believe we will have a big fight. well, we are cheyennes. we have fought the boastful kiowas many times. we have killed many of their warriors. we have run off many of their ponies. pretty soon i am going to burn some sweet grass, and sing the medicine songs. then i am going to talk to the above people. i am going to ask them to help us. they will make us strong. cheyennes, you must be brave. i believe we will hold off the kiowas until our brothers come. i have finished." a few moments later red dog spoke. the cheyennes turned to him with eager attention. he was a great war leader, the son of their beloved chief, war eagle, who had been killed in a disastrous battle with the pawnees, and they looked upon him with respect and admiration. they believed that he might find a way to overcome the advantage of the kiowas, and save the camp. "my people, ghost bear has given you good words," said red dog. "i believe what he says is true. i believe the kiowas propose to fight us. i am not thinking about that. i am thinking about the old people and the women and children. we must try to get them away before the kiowas come. "now, my brothers, listen sharp. i will tell you what i propose to do. we will keep watching until its gets dark. i do not believe the kiowas will come while it is light. when it begins to get dark we will send the old people and the women and children away. some of you must go with them. you must ride far over toward the place-where-the-day-begins. then you must circle around and go toward the lodges of our brothers, the ogalalas. you must send a scout ahead to tell the ogalalas about it. they will come to help you. "after the women and children have gone away, the rest of us will get ready to fight the kiowas. we will try hard to keep them out of the camp. perhaps we will be wiped away. i cannot tell about that. we are cheyennes. a cheyenne is not afraid to die." the cheyennes immediately approved the plan of red dog. they believed it offered the only chance of saving the women and children. all of the warriors, however, wished to remain at the camp with red dog to fight the kiowas. in the meantime old ghost bear came from the medicine lodge with the sacred medicine pipe. he called the cheyennes to assemble in the camp. when they had formed the council circle, ghost bear asked a boy to bring some dry willow sticks. then he asked a warrior to kindle a fire. as the sticks began to burn, ghost bear unwrapped the medicine pipe. then he rose, and tossed a handful of sweet grass upon the fire. as it burned he raised his aged face toward the sky, and chanted a medicine song. then he took some dried bark of the red willow from a small buckskin bag, and filled the bowl of the pipe. having made these preparations, he turned to the cheyennes. "my brothers, i have called you here to take part in the great medicine ceremony," he told them. "i have made many smokes to the above people. it is good. i believe they will help us. now i am going ahead with the great medicine ceremony. you must watch close, and see what i do." he drew a blazing stick from the fire, and lighted the pipe. for several moments he extended the pipe stem toward the sky, while he invited the mysterious above people to smoke. then he drew upon the pipe and puffed the smoke toward the sky, the earth, the east, the south, the west and the north. having begun the ceremony, he passed the pipe to red dog, who puffed the smoke toward the sky. the chief passed the pipe to the warrior at his right, and thus it went round the circle, each warrior puffing smoke toward the sky and calling upon the above people to help him. after all had smoked, the pipe was returned to ghost bear, who replaced it in its wrappings. then he began a weird, melancholy chant, while he moved slowly around the little fire, shaking a medicine rattle. the cheyennes watched him in superstitious fascination. they believed implicitly in the strange medicine beings with whom old ghost bear claimed relationship, and they hoped that he might arouse them against the kiowas. when ghost bear finally ended the mysterious medicine ceremony, the cheyennes again stationed themselves along the edge of the camp to watch the plain. the day was almost finished. the thought of darkness filled them with doubts. they believed that the night threatened them with disaster. "pretty soon it will be dark," they told one another, uneasily. as the sun finally disappeared behind the western rim of the plain, they saw a horseman riding toward the camp. they watched him in great suspense. it seemed a long time before he came within bow range. then they recognized him as running buffalo, one of the scouts. "running buffalo is coming to tell us something about the kiowas," they said. "my brothers, the kiowas are singing the war songs and making many talks," running buffalo told them. "i believe they will set out to fight us as soon as it gets dark. it is bad. there are many kiowas. yes, each of us will have to fight three kiowas. i do not know what will become of the old people, and the women and children. i will not talk about it. my heart is heavy." "running buffalo, we know that many kiowas are over there in that place, but we are not afraid," red dog told him. "we are ready. we will make a big fight, and try to hold them back until our brothers come to help us. our friends, the sioux, have gone to bring them. "now listen to what i am about to say. i am going to fool the kiowas, and let the old people and the women and children get away. i am going to send them to our friends, the brave ogalalas. now i will tell you what i propose to do. when it gets dark some of us will ride away toward the place-where-the-warm-wind-blows. we will not go far. then we will turn around, and ride back to the camp. we will make a big noise. our brothers in the camp will make a big noise. when the kiowas hear it they will say, 'hi, some people have come to help the cheyennes.' then they will stop, and send out scouts. well, while we are making that noise, the women and children will get away. they will go toward the place-where-the-day-begins. then they will circle around and ride fast toward the ogalala lodges. some of us will go with them. some one will ride ahead and ask the ogalalas to help us. if the kiowas go that way you must tell us about it. now you know what i propose to do. see, the light is going. ride back there and tell your brothers about it." "it is good," said running buffalo. "i will go. when the kiowas ride toward the village we will keep ahead of them. when you hear the little gray fox barking you will know that the kiowas are coming." he mounted his pony and rode away into the west. the cheyennes watched him in gloomy silence. the light was fading. the day had ended. night was close at hand. then red dog began preparations for the defense of the camp. the boys and old men were piling brush and wood along the edge of the village, to be lighted if the kiowas attempted to enter. fires had already been lighted in the center of the camp. the war ponies were brought in, and securely picketed. the frightened women were packing meat for their journey into the north. red dog called the warriors to the fire. it was a pitiably small company. the cheyenne chief looked upon them with pride. they were great broad-shouldered fellows in the prime of life. their solemn faces and serious eyes told him that they understood the peril which threatened them. still there was no trace of fear in their hearts. they waited calmly for the words of their chief. "my friends, the light has almost gone," red dog told them. "we must get ready to send away the women and children, and the old people. i will ask some of you to go out on the plain. do not go far. then you must turn around, and ride to the village. call out, and sing the war songs. make a big noise. "now i will call out the names of some warriors to go with the women and children. cloud eagle, and two dogs, and walks alone, and hairy robe, and lame bear must take these people to the ogalalas. i will make cloud eagle the leader. now you must get ready to go. when we make that big noise you must ride away." the five warriors who had been selected to guard the women and children on the perilous journey into the north were eager to remain and fight the kiowas. they concealed their disappointment, however, and began to round up the ponies. "listen, cheyennes," old ghost bear cried, excitedly. "i am an old man, but i am not going away. my arms are strong. my eyes are sharp. i will stay here and help you fight the kiowas." encouraged by his example, many other valiant veterans of the war trail offered their services against the kiowas. red dog accepted them. he realized that in the emergency their assistance might be valuable. "my brothers, you are very brave," he told them. "all of you have fought in many battles. if you feel like staying here to fight, i will tell you to stay. perhaps you will kill many kiowas." having made preparations for the daring stratagem by which he hoped to save the women and children, red dog divided his little force into two companies. he appointed painted weasel as leader of the company that was to ride out on the plain, while red dog assumed command of the warriors in the camp. then the cheyennes waited for darkness. when night finally settled upon the plain, painted weasel and his companions mounted their ponies and rode away toward the south. at the same time cloud eagle assembled the women and children. then the cheyennes listened for the signal that would set the camp in a tumult. "hi, they are coming!" cried red dog. the hoofbeats of galloping ponies sounded across the plain, and a moment afterward the night rang with the wild shouts of the riders. the warriors in the camp replied with the piercing cheyenne war cry. then a perfect bedlam of sounds rose from the village. men shouted, dogs barked and ponies whinnied. "come, come, ride away!" red dog told cloud eagle. a moment afterward the little company galloped toward the east. the hoofbeats of the ponies were smothered by the noise from the camp. when the wild tumult finally subsided, the warriors raised their voices in the war songs, and the sounds carried far across the plain. red dog felt certain that the noise had reached the ears of the kiowas. "it is good," he cried. "we have frightened the kiowas. they will be cautious. it will be a long time before they come close. the women and children have got away." the cheyennes became quiet. they stood at the edge of the village, listening anxiously. the plain was silent. a great joy filled their hearts. they believed that their women and children had escaped from the kiowas. chapter viii the attack on the camp elated at the successful escape of the women and children, the cheyennes awaited the kiowas with less anxiety. they stood at the edge of the village, listening for a warning from the scouts. some of the older boys had been appointed to stand beside the piles of brush, ready to light them at the command of their chief. a small detail of warriors surrounded the corral to prevent the kiowas from running off the ponies. the old men kept the fires blazing fiercely in the center of the camp. everything was ready. the cheyennes were eager to begin the fight. "perhaps the kiowas are afraid to come," laughed old ghost bear. "keep watching--they will come," red dog warned him. when half of the night had passed, and they had heard nothing of the war party, some of the younger warriors began to repeat the words of ghost bear. the older men cautioned them against becoming too confident. they believed that the kiowas were delaying the attack with the hope of catching them off their guard. "the kiowas are sharp," said red dog. "we must watch out or they will fool us." soon afterward the warriors along the southerly side of the camp called out that they had heard a signal. the bark of the little gray fox had sounded far away to the southward. the cheyennes listened in tense silence. in a few moments the signal was repeated. they knew it had come from one of their scouts. they turned to one another in surprise. having expected the kiowas to approach from the west, the call in the south perplexed them. "it is bad," said red dog. "the kiowas have separated." "perhaps scouts went over there to find out who came to the camp," suggested painted weasel. "yes, that may be true," red dog replied, thoughtfully. then they heard another signal. it sounded from the west, and was nearer the camp. red dog saw his suspicions confirmed. he was confident that the kiowas had separated into two companies. "they are coming up on both sides of us," declared painted weasel. a moment later they heard hoofbeats. a pony was racing toward them, from the west. the dogs barked furiously. the cheyennes believed that one of the scouts was approaching, but they determined to be prepared. they drew their bows, and watched suspiciously. the pony stopped when it came within arrow range. then they heard the familiar signal. "who are you?" inquired red dog. "thunder hawk," said a voice from the darkness. "ride ahead," red dog told him. in a few moments thunder hawk entered the camp. he said that the kiowas had separated into two companies. one had ridden toward the south. the other was approaching from the west. "running buffalo followed the kiowas who rode away," said thunder hawk. "white horse is watching the kiowas who are coming toward the village. he sent me here to tell you about it." "did you hear us making that noise?" red dog asked him. "yes, we heard ponies running, and shouts, and then we heard the war songs," said thunder hawk. "after that the kiowas rode away." "they must be scouts," said red dog. "perhaps they are trying to find out who came here." "no, they are not scouts," declared thunder hawk. "there are many ponies. it is a big war party. i believe they are the warriors who came from the place-where-the-sun-sleeps." "then i know about it," said red dog. "i believe scouts saw the ponies out there on the plain. those riders who went away are going to circle around, and try to run off those ponies. well, we will fool them. the ponies are here." "yes, yes, that is what they propose to do," the cheyennes told one another. while they were talking, they heard some one approaching from the south. they felt certain it was running buffalo. he stopped and imitated the bark of the little gray fox. then he galloped to the camp. "get ready to fight!" cried running buffalo. "the kiowas are coming. they are close behind me. they are trying to find the ponies." "the ponies are here," red dog told him, as he pointed toward the corral. "it is good," said running buffalo. "my brothers, there are many kiowas in that war party." "we are ready," red dog said, grimly. having learned that the kiowas were advancing upon the camp, the cheyennes listened anxiously for the approach of white horse. as time passed, and he failed to arrive, they became uneasy about him. they wondered what had caused him to loiter. they feared that the kiowas who were approaching from the south might circle about the village and trap him. "i will go out there and find him," thunder hawk proposed, impulsively. "wait," cautioned red dog. "white horse is sharp. the kiowas will not catch him. he is waiting to find out about something. he will come." as he finished speaking they heard the signal in the north. it filled them with alarm. their thoughts turned to cloud eagle and the helpless company in his care. had the crafty kiowas sent scouts into the north? the cheyennes weakened at the possibility. they waited in breathless suspense for white horse to reach the camp. white horse soon relieved their fears. he said that the kiowas who were advancing from the west had stopped some distance out on the plain. then he had circled toward the north to make sure that scouts had not gone in that direction. he had heard nothing to arouse his suspicions. "it is good," declared red dog. "i do not believe the kiowas know anything about our people who went away," said white horse. "i believe they came here to run off ponies. when they found out that we knew about it, they sent scouts to bring more warriors. now they are going to make a big fight. those people i was watching will wait out there until they hear their friends moving ahead. then they will all rush in. i believe scouts are creeping toward the camp. we must watch sharp." "white horse, your words are good," said red dog. "i believe you have found out what the kiowas propose to do." realizing that the kiowas might begin the attack at any moment, the cheyennes stood at the edge of the camp, weapons in hand, watching and listening for their foes. they had little doubt that scouts were moving cautiously through the darkness in an effort to reconnoiter the camp. the thought kept them alert. they listened sharply for the sound of stealthy footfalls. for a long time, however, all was still. then a pony snorted, in the corral. a dog harked savagely outside the camp. "light the fires!" cried red dog. the boys shoved glowing embers into the brush piles. a moment afterward they burst into flames. a wide circle of light spread about the camp. the cheyennes looked for their foes. they had retreated into the night. "it was a scout; he was trying to find the ponies," explained a warrior at the corral. believing that the kiowas were close to the camp, red dog ordered the boys to keep the fires blazing. the warriors crouched in the shadows from the lodges. they heard nothing further from their foes. they wondered if the scouts had been frightened away. "the kiowas are like wolves," laughed painted weasel. "they are afraid of the fires." as if to verify his words, the dismal wail of ma-ya-sh, the prairie wolf, sounded from the south. the cheyennes started at the sound. they knew it was a signal from the war party. they believed the kiowas were ready to advance. "watch out!" shouted red dog. "the kiowas are coming." the wolf call was repeated in the west. it had barely died away before the kiowa war cry echoed shrilly through the night. the cheyennes answered the challenge. then the kiowas raced toward the camp. they rode close up to the lodges, but the cheyennes were prepared, and drove them back with a deadly volley of arrows. the kiowas turned and sought shelter in the darkness. "we have chased them back," the cheyennes cried, excitedly. "keep watching," red dog cautioned them. the kiowas were riding around the camp, and yelling fiercely. they appeared to be attempting to stampede the ponies. the latter were plunging and snorting in terror, and those in the corral threatened to break away at any moment. then the kiowas suddenly made another attempt to enter the village. they rode recklessly to the edge of the camp, and tried to drive the cheyennes before them. the latter, however, refused to yield. they realized that to give way meant disaster, and they fought with a stubborn ferocity that bewildered their foes. the old men and the boys fought as fiercely as the warriors. somewhat sheltered by the lodges, they shot their arrows with deadly accuracy, and the kiowas were again compelled to withdraw. this time they went far out on the plain. the cheyennes seized the opportunity to turn to their disabled comrades. they had paid a heavy price for victory. a third of the little force had been killed or wounded. there was little time to think about it. the old men barely had time to drag the wounded to a place of safety before they heard the kiowas again charging upon the village. the cheyennes were amazed when their foes passed beyond bow range of the camp, and thundered away toward the south. it was some moments before they recovered from their bewilderment. they were at a loss to understand the strange maneuver. at first they were suspicious, and expected to hear the kiowas riding toward them from another direction. then, as time passed and they heard nothing further, they became convinced that the kiowas had actually gone away. it seemed too good to be true. despair gave way to joy. the cheyennes began to laugh, and shout and sing the war songs. "my brothers, we have done a big thing," red dog told them. "we have chased away that great war party of kiowas. they are running across the plain. it is something to tell about. i----" "listen!" painted weasel cried, in alarm. a moment afterward the startled cheyennes heard the kiowa war cry at the edge of the camp. then, before they realized what had happened, they saw the warriors along the westerly side of the village driven back by a great company of kiowas who swarmed into the camp on foot. at the same time the horsemen attacked the camp on the south. the wily kiowas had completely outwitted their foes. the cheyennes were bewildered and demoralized. they rushed wildly to reinforce their comrades along the threatened side of the village, and the kiowa horsemen found little opposition. they quickly overcame the feeble guard at the corral, and stampeded the ponies. then they swept into the camp. the cheyennes were outnumbered four to one. the village was filled with kiowas. resistance meant death. "jump on the war ponies and save yourselves!" cried red dog. the cheyennes rushed toward the terror-stricken ponies in the center of the camp. the kiowas followed after them. a furious hand-to-hand encounter ensued. most of the old men were killed. a few escaped notice in the general confusion, and disappeared into the night. old ghost bear ran far out on the plain, and hid in the sage. the cheyennes finally gained possession of the war ponies. they mounted and attempted to ride away. less than half of the company escaped. once out of the village, they rode frantically toward the north. the kiowas made little effort to overtake them. a small company of warriors pursued them a short distance across the plain, but soon turned back to assist in rounding up the ponies, and share in the plunder. when they found that they were not pursued, the little band of cheyennes stopped to learn who had escaped. many famous warriors were missing. then they suddenly discovered that both red dog and ghost bear were absent. "i saw ghost bear run out of the camp," declared running buffalo. "i believe he got away." "where is red dog?" painted weasel asked, anxiously. "he was with us when we were fighting to get away," said running buffalo. "i saw him kill two kiowas. then the kiowas rushed at us, and i did not see what became of him." "red dog is dead--the kiowas have killed him," cried the disheartened cheyennes. "perhaps they have carried him away," said painted hawk. they rallied at the thought. if red dog had been captured, they resolved to rescue him. they turned toward the camp. then they stopped in dismay. the village was ablaze. the kiowas had set fire to the lodges. the cheyennes heard them yelling triumphantly, far away to the southward. "my brothers, there are few of us left," declared running buffalo. "it is useless to try to do anything. come, we will ride after our people, and ask the ogalalas to help us. then we will bring a great war party to fight the kiowas." they turned toward the north with heavy hearts, and rode silently away into the darkness. chapter ix pawnees as the sioux scouts rode toward the south to find the cheyenne hunters, they watched closely to make sure that the kiowas were not following them. then, as the day advanced and they saw nothing of their foes, they believed that they had escaped from the cheyenne camp without attracting the attention of the kiowa scouts. the thought encouraged them. "it is good," said sun bird. "there is no danger." "we must not be too sure about it," white otter cautioned him. "red dog told us about the pawnees. we must watch out." at first they attempted to follow the trail of the cheyennes, but as the latter had left the camp some days before the tracks were old and indistinct. the sioux realized that they would be forced to ride slowly to follow them. then, too, they feared that the cheyennes might make many wide and unnecessary detours in their search for buffaloes, and an effort to follow them might cause much useless riding and a great loss of time. aware that each moment was precious, white otter finally determined to leave the trail and ride directly across the plain in the hope of encountering the hunters. "it is the best thing to do," said white otter. "yes, i believe it will be the quickest way to find the hunters," agreed sun bird. late in the day they discovered a number of fresh pony tracks leading toward the west. white otter and sun bird dismounted to examine them. they decided that they had been made only a short time before. the trail made them suspicious. they looked anxiously across the plain. there was nothing in sight. "perhaps it is the cheyennes," said sun bird. white otter remained silent. he was walking slowly along the trail, and examining the tracks with great care. his companions waited for his decision. at last he rose, and shook his head in doubt. "do you feel different about it?" sun bird inquired, anxiously. "my brother, i am not sure about it," white otter told him. "only a few ponies passed this place--there are many cheyennes." "perhaps they were scouts, going over there to look for buffaloes," suggested sun bird. "perhaps," said white otter. he was looking anxiously toward the west. the plain was level and free of cover, and it was possible to see a long distance ahead. white otter realized that the riders were farther away than he had supposed. "perhaps they are wild ponies," said little raven. "yes, that may be true," replied white otter. "well, we will try to find out about them. come, we will follow them." he rode slowly along the trail, and sun bird and little raven followed him. his doubts had made them suspicious, and they kept a sharp watch for foes. they had gone a considerable distance when white otter suddenly stopped and dismounted. he stooped and lifted something from the ground. he examined it with great interest. then he turned to his companions. "see," he said. "i have found something that tells me what i wish to know." he passed the object to sun bird. it was a small, round, highly polished piece of bone. it had a hole bored through the end of it. sun bird recognized it at once. it had come from a bone breast-plate, worn by warriors to protect them from the arrows of their foes. for some moments he stared at it in silence. then he gave it to little raven. "now we know that those ponies carried riders," said white otter. "they are not our friends, the cheyennes. they are warriors." "i believe they are pawnees," declared sun bird. at that moment white otter discovered something far away to the northward. a column of smoke was rising against the sky. they watched it until it finally faded from view. they believed it had been a signal from the kiowa war party. then white otter suddenly guessed the truth. "my brothers, i believe those people are kiowas," he said. "i believe they are going to help their friends fight the cheyennes. i believe those kiowas near the cheyenne camp sent up that smoke to tell their friends where they are. come, we will see if it is true." a short distance farther on the trail turned abruptly toward the north. they felt certain that a company of kiowas had gone to participate in the attack on the cheyenne camp. the thought roused them to action. they realized that the little force of cheyennes were in a desperate plight. "my brothers, we must try to find the hunters," cried white otter. "there is no time to spare." they left the trail and cantered away toward the south. the day was far gone, and they were eager to find the cheyennes before darkness fell. they feared that the kiowas would attack the camp some time during the night. would the cheyennes be able to hold them off until their tribesmen came to their aid? the sioux had grave doubts. they looked anxiously across the plain, hoping each moment to see the hunters come in sight. the day passed, however, and the cheyennes failed to appear. the sioux gave way to despair. "it is bad," white otter said, soberly, as they abandoned the search at dark. they found a little spring at the base of a solitary cottonwood tree, and decided to remain there until daylight. after they had picketed the ponies they sat in gloomy silence, staring thoughtfully into the night. the cheyennes had given them some dried elk meat, but they had no desire to eat. their hearts were filled with fears for the people in the cheyenne camp. "if the hunters were close by i believe they would come here for water," said sun bird. "i believe they are far away." "it must be so," agreed white otter. "we looked hard but we could not find them. we did not find their tracks. perhaps they have followed the buffaloes." "perhaps they have gone back to their village," suggested little raven. for a moment the possibility gave them hope. then they suddenly realized that it would have been difficult for the cheyennes to have passed them without being seen. they feared that the hunters were still somewhere to the southward, searching for the buffalo herds. "well, when it gets light we will ride around until we find their tracks," said sun bird. "then we will soon come up with them. i believe red dog and his friends will keep the kiowas out of the camp until we bring the hunters." "red dog and his friends are very brave, but there are many kiowas," white otter told him. "i feel bad about it." then their thoughts were diverted by the strange behavior of the ponies. they had raised their heads, and were looking nervously into the darkness. the sioux seized their weapons, and sprang to their feet. they untied the ponies and stood beside them, ready to mount and ride away at the first warning of danger. "do you hear anything?" little raven asked white otter. "no," said white otter. the ponies still seemed restless and frightened, but they made no attempt to call. the wind was blowing directly toward them. the sioux believed that if either men or horses were approaching the ponies would have called. nevertheless, they determined to take every precaution. "perhaps something is coming here to drink," said sun bird. "listen," whispered white otter. they heard something moving about in the darkness. one of the ponies snorted and plunged wildly. it tore the lariat from the grasp of little raven, and dashed away. white otter and sun bird sprang upon their ponies and raced after it. at that moment little raven saw two small awkward creatures galloping toward him. he shot his arrow before he recognized them. one of them rolled over, bawling lustily. the other ran off. little raven suddenly identified them as cubs of the grizzly bear. "hi, now i must watch out," he said. the next moment a savage roar sounded close at hand, and he saw the mother bear running toward the wounded cub. he shot his arrow, and the bear turned to face him. for an instant he saw the threatening glare of her eyes. then she rushed at him. he shot another arrow. then he fled toward the cottonwood. he barely had time to draw himself to the lowest limb before the enraged bear was at the tree. she reared unsteadily, and tried to climb. little raven attempted to draw an arrow from his bow-case and almost fell from the limb. in the meantime the bear had dropped to the ground, and galloped back to her cubs. at that moment little raven heard his friends returning with the ponies. "watch out, ma-to-ho-ta is here!" he cried. "i have killed one of her babies. she is very mad." "where are you?" white otter inquired, anxiously. "i am up here in this tree," said little raven. "ma-to-ho-ta has turned our brother into zi-ca, the squirrel," laughed sun bird. as the sioux advanced, the bear rushed to meet them. little raven heard them shoot their arrows, and gallop away. there was no sound from the bear. he believed they had killed it. "ma-to-ho-ta is dead," he shouted. "stay where you are," cautioned white otter. "we will find out about it." little raven heard the ponies snorting nervously, as his friends rode forward to investigate. then he heard one of the cubs whining. some one shot an arrow. the cub became quiet. a moment afterward white otter called him. "come down, my brother, ma-to-ho-ta and her babies are dead," he said. "i was like a feeble old man," little raven cried, angrily, as sun bird gave him the lariat of the runaway pony. "that horse fooled me." "it is bad," said white otter. "if the pawnees came here instead of ma-to-ho-ta they would have run off that pony." they picketed the ponies, and went to examine the bear. it was unusually large, but thin, and poor in fur, as usual at that season. little raven cut off the claws and shared them with his companions. they fastened them to their rawhide belts. then white otter cut open the carcass and drew out the heart. he divided it into three portions, and they ate it. it was an old custom of their people, and they believed that it would give them the strength and courage for which ma-to-ho-ta was famous. the night passed without further alarm, and at the first signs of dawn the sioux rode away to search for the cheyennes. red dog had told them that the hunters proposed to go a day's journey to the southward, and then circle about the plain until they discovered the buffalo herd. "well, they must be close by," declared little raven. "we must try hard to find them," white otter told him. his mind was filled with distressing possibilities concerning the people in the cheyenne village. had the kiowas made an attack? had red dog and his warriors beaten them off? white otter feared to hope. half of the day had passed before the sioux saw anything to give them encouragement. then white otter discovered a great dust cloud rising behind a long, undulating sweep of the plain, far to the westward. they watched it with breathless interest. "i believe many buffaloes are running behind that hill," said sun bird. "i believe the cheyenne hunters are chasing them." "yes, yes, it is the buffalo herd!" cried little raven. "now we will find the hunters." "come, we will ride over there, but we must be cautious," white otter told them. they cantered hopefully across the plain. they felt quite certain that they would find the cheyenne hunters pursuing the buffaloes behind the distant ridge. as they drew near, however, white otter urged caution. the dust cloud had died away, and he was somewhat suspicious. his companions heeded his warning. "yes, we must watch out," agreed sun bird. as they finally came within arrow range, they stopped and examined the top of the ridge with great care. it was exposed, and bare of cover, and offered a poor hiding place. the sioux saw nothing to arouse suspicion. "there is no one there," declared sun bird. "i believe it is safe," said white otter. eager to reach the cheyennes before they got farther away, the sioux galloped boldly toward the ridge. when they reached it, white otter and sun bird dismounted and scrambled up the slope to reconnoiter. the plain was dotted with dead buffaloes, and farther to the westward they saw a great company of riders pursuing the herd. "they are our friends, the cheyennes," sun bird said, excitedly. "come, we must catch up with them." "i cannot tell who they are, but i believe they are the cheyennes," white otter told him. they told little raven to bring the ponies. then they rode impulsively across the plain. their eagerness to overtake the hunters made them reckless. they raced after the distant horsemen at top speed. they passed a cluster of trees but took little notice of them. convinced that they had found the cheyennes, their one desire was to overtake them. buffaloes and hunters had disappeared into a dip of the plain. "they are riding fast, it will be hard to catch them," declared sun bird. the hunters apparently had failed to notice them. the sioux were somewhat surprised. they had expected to be discovered when they rode over the ridge. white otter became suspicious. "it is mysterious," he said. they had begun to ascend the hill over which the hunters had disappeared. great clouds of dust rose to the westward. it was evident that the chase was still continuing. then white otter suddenly glanced back across the plain. he stopped his pony and cried out in alarm. "stop!" he shouted. a small company of horsemen were riding after them. they appeared to have come from the little grove of trees. the sioux studied them with grave suspicion. at first they took them for cheyenne scouts. as they came nearer, however, white otter became doubtful. "watch out," he warned. "perhaps we have run into a trap." he had barely uttered the warning, when the horsemen whom they had been pursuing swept down upon them from the top of the ridge. for one brief moment the sioux stared at them in astonishment. they could scarcely believe their eyes. the buffalo hunters were pawnees. they were already within arrow range. "come!" cried white otter, as he rode madly down the slope. "keep low, they are shooting their arrows," warned sun bird. chapter x a desperate chase the sioux turned toward the south with the hope of encountering the cheyennes somewhere in that direction. the pawnees were close behind them, and the race was thrilling. the scouts who had followed them from the grove were riding desperately to get in front of them. the buffalo hunters were thundering after them. the sioux feared that unless they could withdraw beyond bow range it would be only a matter of moments before either they or their ponies were pierced by pawnee arrows. having escaped from the first fierce volley, they crouched low and lashed the cheyenne ponies into a terrific burst of speed to outdistance their foes. "the pawnee ponies are tired; they will soon give out," cried sun bird. it was their one hope. they believed that the pawnees had fatigued their ponies in the long chase after the buffaloes, and they had doubts that they could maintain the pace. the ponies of the scouts from the grove, however, appeared fresh and speedy, and the sioux felt less hopeful of eluding them. there were nine riders in the latter company, and they were racing wildly along the flank of the sioux in an attempt to pass them. they were still beyond range, but were riding at a sharp angle which would soon bring them within bowshot. "see, the hunters are dropping back!" little raven cried, joyfully. "their arrows are falling behind us." "we must watch those other riders," white otter cautioned him. "their ponies are fresh. they are coming fast. we must keep ahead of them." it seemed as if the hope of the sioux was being realized. the main company of pawnees appeared to be losing ground. they had ceased wasting their arrows. the sioux glanced back and saw that the distance between them and their pursuers had increased considerably. the riders on their flank, however, were keeping up with them. little raven drew his bow. "save your arrows," cautioned white otter. aware that the sioux were distancing them, the pawnee hunters were shouting encouragement to their tribesmen. the latter, however, were unable to gain. they were forcing their ponies to the limit, but the sioux held their advantage. they were riding toward a small stand of timber, some distance ahead of them. "the cheyenne ponies are fast, they will carry us away," said sun bird. a moment afterward little raven's pony stumbled and plunged to its knees. little raven was thrown heavily to the ground. his friends turned in dismay. the pawnees yelled triumphantly, and lashed their ponies to a fresh burst of speed. little raven had kept tight hold of the lariat, however, and as the pony struggled to its feet he sprang upon its back. then he discovered that the animal had been crippled. it ran with short, faltering strides, and had lost its speed. "my pony is lame--leave me and save yourselves," little raven cried, bravely. "we will die together," white otter told him. "come, we will kill these pawnees." they drew their bows and prepared to fight. the pawnees were within arrow range. the nine scouts were abreast of them. the hunters were close behind them. the crippled pony was steadily losing ground. their situation was desperate. an arrow passed between white otter and sun bird. another grazed the flank of the injured pony. the pawnees were almost upon them. the sioux saw little chance of reaching the timber. escape seemed impossible. they abandoned hope. "come, my brothers, we will show the pawnees how to die," sun bird said, fiercely. at that moment little raven's pony recovered from the effects of its fall. it sprang forward with new life. the injury appeared to have been only temporary. the sioux yelled with joy. their hopes revived. they determined to fight desperately for their lives. the pawnee scouts were circling to get in front of them. white otter shot his arrow at the foremost rider, and the pawnee fell to the plain. sun bird's arrow sent a pony to its knees. little raven twisted about and wounded a pawnee behind him. then they raced forward and gained the lead. a volley of arrows came from the pawnees. white otter was struck in the shoulder. it was a slight wound, and he withdrew the arrow and shot it at his foes. then the sioux crouched low on their ponies, and rode toward the timber. they soon drew away from the exhausted ponies of the pawnee hunters, but the scouts kept close beside them. the sioux were within several arrow flights of their goal, however, and their hopes grew stronger. they made savage use of their heavy riding quirts, and the cheyenne ponies increased their speed. stride by stride they drew away from the pawnees until they finally carried their riders beyond bowshot. "keep them running, keep them running!" cried white otter. "we will get away." they reached the timber more than a bowshot ahead of the nearest pawnees. then they jumped from the trembling ponies, and prepared to fight off their foes. the latter, however, had failed to follow them. aware that the sioux had suddenly gained the advantage, the pawnees were cautious about exposing themselves. they had stopped a long bowshot beyond the trees, and appeared to be holding a council. "the pawnees are afraid to come after us," declared little raven. "we must be ready," white otter told him. in a few moments the pawnees separated, and surrounded the grove. then they circled around the timber, shouting taunts, and whooping savagely. the sioux laughed at them. "they sound very fierce," sun bird said, sarcastically. "they are very cautious," laughed white otter. they wondered what the pawnees proposed to do. they showed little inclination to approach. they had stopped riding. many of them had dismounted. the sioux watched closely. they feared that the crafty pawnees might be attempting to trick them. "i believe they will go away," little raven said, finally. "they did not come out to fight. they are hunters. they have killed many buffaloes. if they leave them back there, ma-ya-sh, the wolf, will eat them. i believe some of those warriors will go back there to watch. i believe some of them will go to their village to send their people for that meat. my brothers, how do you feel about it?" "i do not believe they will go away," sun bird told him. "no, they will not go away," declared white otter. "we have killed some of their friends. they are mad. they will stay here." soon afterward they saw a number of warriors leave the circle and ride nearer the grove. then they stopped, and began to shout, and shake their weapons. in a few moments the rest of the pawnees began to cry out threateningly. then a warrior on a spotted pony rode forward and began to talk. he spoke in loud tones, and little raven, who had been a captive in the pawnee camp, understood many of his words. "he is talking about those warriors who were making that noise," said little raven. "he is telling his friends how brave those young men are. he says they are coming in here to drive us out." "well, their friends will see that they are very foolish," declared sun bird. "do you know that warrior who is talking?" white otter asked little raven. "he talks like jumping horse, but he is too far away, i am not sure about it," said little raven. "i believe some of those warriors know who i am. it is bad. they will try to catch me." "hi, those foolish young men are getting ready to ride over here," said white otter. "i believe they propose to throw themselves away. watch out, they are coming." a moment afterward the little company of pawnees raced toward the timber. they were yelling and waving their bows, and their tribesmen were wild with excitement. the sioux waited calmly at the edge of the timber. when the riders drew near, however, they suddenly swerved and rode around the grove at top speed. they were within easy arrow range, and the sioux instantly realized the significance of the maneuver. "they are trying to make us shoot our arrows," said white otter. "we are not so foolish," laughed sun bird. "we will wait until they rush in." when the riders saw that the trick had failed, they returned to their companions. then the pawnees crowded together for another council. the sioux saw the warrior on the spotted pony talking excitedly, but they were unable to catch his words. "i believe that man is the leader," declared white otter. "he is telling his friends what to do." "i believe he is jumping horse--he is a great war leader," said little raven. "they are getting ready to rush in," sun bird declared, uneasily. then the same company of warriors again rode forward, shouting, and singing their war songs. they lashed their ponies into a gallop and rode recklessly toward the grove. this time, however, they did not turn aside. "get ready to fight," cried sun bird. "wait until they come close," cautioned white otter. there were ten pawnees in the attacking party, and they kept close together and attempted to ride their ponies into the little patch of timber. the sioux took shelter behind the trees, and waited until their foes were almost upon them. then they raised the dacotah war cry and shot their arrows. two of the pawnees toppled from their ponies. the others halted in dismay. unable to see the sioux, they were bewildered and alarmed. before they could rally, the sioux renewed the savage attack, and another rider slipped limply from his pony. then the pawnees lost hope and raced away in pursuit of the riderless ponies. "hi, we showed the pawnees how to fight," sun bird cried, fiercely. "now they will try hard to kill us," white otter warned him. the defeat of the warriors who had attacked the sioux threw the pawnees into a rage. they began to race furiously around the grove, gradually drawing nearer until they were within close arrow range. then they shot their arrows into the timber. the sioux were well sheltered, however, and had little fear of being hit. "it is good, the pawnees are sending us arrows," little raven said, mockingly. "keep watching," replied white otter. "they are very mad. i believe they will rush in." it was not long before the sioux saw the motive for the attack. the pawnees were attempting to divert their attention, while several daring scouts rode close up to the timber and carried off the three unfortunate warriors who had been killed. then the entire company withdrew beyond bow range. "the pawnees have carried away their brothers," said sun bird. "perhaps they are going to give up the fight." "no, i do not believe it," white otter replied, doubtfully. the pawnees had formed in a great circle about the timber. they were watching quietly, like a company of wolves that had surrounded their quarry but feared to attack. the sioux tried to guess their intentions. sun bird and little raven hoped that they might suddenly withdraw, but white otter was suspicious. "i believe they will stay here until it gets dark," he said. "then they will try to creep up close. it is bad. we cannot help our friends, the brave cheyennes." the thought filled them with despair. for the moment their own peril was forgotten in their concern for the safety of red dog and his people. having failed to find the cheyenne hunters, the sioux feared to think what might have happened to the little company in the distant village. the peril roused them. "we have done a foolish thing," sun bird cried, hotly. "now we must try to get away and do the thing we set out to do." "i am thinking about it," white otter told him. "what do you propose to do?" inquired sun bird. "when it grows dark we will try to get past the pawnees," white otter said, quietly. chapter xi a night of surprises late in the day half of the pawnees withdrew toward the east. the sioux felt certain that they had gone to watch the buffaloes which they had killed. the rest of the company came nearer to the timber. then they began to taunt and threaten the sioux. the latter took no notice of them. they waited anxiously for the end of the day, hoping that darkness might make it possible to escape. "there are not so many pawnees; perhaps we will be able to get away," little raven said, hopefully. "they will watch sharp," white otter told him. although the company had been reduced by half, the sioux were still outnumbered by ten to one. they felt encouraged, however, when the pawnees showed no further inclination to attack them. the sun was getting low in the west, and the day was passing. they were eager for night. then, as twilight was settling upon the plain, two scouts returned from the east. it was evident that they had brought word of great importance. the pawnees appeared to be much excited. they had gathered about the scouts, and were talking earnestly. a few moments later the sioux were amazed to see the entire company ride off toward the east. "watch out, it is a trick," said sun bird. "i believe those riders came back to fool us," declared little raven. white otter offered no explanation. he was watching the pawnees with grave interest. as they continued across the plain, an alarming possibility flashed through his mind. he turned excitedly to his companions. "my brothers, i believe the pawnees have found the cheyenne hunters," he said. "it is true," cried sun bird. "perhaps the cheyennes found those dead buffaloes. come, we will follow the pawnees, and find out about it." "wait," said white otter. "we must be cautious. perhaps scouts are watching to see what we propose to do. we will fool them. we will ride toward the place-where-the-warm-wind-blows. then when it gets dark we will circle around and come back to the place where the pawnees killed those buffaloes." "it is good," said sun bird. they waited a few moments longer to make sure that the pawnees had actually gone. then, as they saw nothing of them, they mounted the ponies and rode toward the south. they held the ponies to an easy canter, and kept a sharp watch behind them. the pawnees failed to appear. "wa-kan-tun-ka, the great mystery, has given us our lives," declared sun bird. "it is true," said white otter. "perhaps we will be able to help the cheyennes. i believe we will find them over there near those buffaloes." at dark they turned sharply toward the east. they went a long way before they finally circled toward the north. they rode in silence, listening sharply for sounds from the pawnees. the night was still. "perhaps the cheyennes are getting ready to fight the pawnees," suggested sun bird. "that would be bad," declared white otter. "if the cheyennes are over there we must find them, and tell them to come away. they must go to help their people. there is little time. i am thinking about red dog, and the women and children in that camp. perhaps the kiowas have killed them." when they finally drew near the place where the pawnees had killed the buffaloes, they stopped to listen. then, as they heard nothing to alarm them, they advanced with great caution. the sky was bright with stars, and they were able to see a short distance through the night. they knew that they were to the eastward of the place where they had first seen the buffaloes. "pretty soon we will circle around, and go over there," said white otter. they turned toward the west, and soon came in sight of the ridge from which they had discovered the pawnee hunters. a few moments later a pony called within bowshot of them. they stopped in alarm. then a voice challenged softly from the darkness. little raven recognized the pawnee dialect. he immediately replied. "it is good, my brother," he said in the pawnee tongue. "where are our enemies?" "they are hiding over there among the trees," said the pawnee. "our brothers are watching." "it is good," little raven told him. "we will go ahead. you must keep watching." "who is with you?" the pawnee inquired, curiously. "i hear something--keep quiet," little raven said, craftily. the next moment they rode up the ridge. they listened uneasily, for they feared that the pawnee might become suspicious and follow them. as they heard nothing to verify their fears, they crossed the ridge and moved stealthily out across the plain. "little raven, you are as sharp as an old wolf," whispered white otter. "you have done a great thing. now we know that the cheyennes are over there where the trees grow." they also knew that sharp-eared pawnee scouts were on guard, and they feared that it would be difficult to avoid them. the sioux moved forward with the alert, nervous caution of frightened deer. they had not gone far when the ponies snorted and swerved aside. they stopped in alarm. then they discovered one of the dead buffaloes. they had difficulty in persuading the ponies to pass it. "perhaps the pawnees will hear us," whispered sun bird. "listen," cautioned white otter. some one was riding toward them. their hearts beat wildly. they feared to move. many anxious moments passed. then the sounds gradually died away. what had become of the rider? which way had he gone? they listened anxiously for a clew. it was a long time before they felt secure. then, as the stillness continued, they moved slowly forward. "the way is clear," white otter whispered, finally. they continued their perilous advance. then they heard the cry of the big gray timber wolf, somewhere behind them. it was the favorite signal of the pawnees. they feared that their foes had discovered them. they stopped and listened. in a few moments they heard the call farther out on the plain. the pawnees were signaling. what did it mean? "perhaps that scout back there is telling his friends about us," said sun bird. "no, no, he does not know about us," little raven assured him. "i fooled him. he took us for pawnees." "perhaps the pawnees are getting ready to rush against the cheyennes," said white otter. the possibility startled them. they realized that if the pawnees were closing in upon the grove there was not a moment to spare. they stared anxiously into the night in an effort to locate the timber. it was hidden in the darkness. there was nothing to guide them in the proper direction. they knew that it would be easy to pass beyond it. the blunder might prove fatal. "we must watch sharp," whispered white otter. they circled cautiously until they eventually saw the clump of trees showing darkly through the night. then they stopped and listened suspiciously. they felt certain that pawnee scouts were close at hand, and they feared colliding with them. the wolf calls had ceased. the plain was steeped in silence. the sioux moved forward. "if the pawnees find us, we must ride fast toward those trees," said white otter. "perhaps the cheyennes will take us for pawnees, and kill us," little raven told him. "when we get close we will call out and tell them who we are," replied white otter. they advanced directly toward the timber. there was not a sound. the silence aroused their suspicions. were the pawnees, too, advancing toward the grove? they wondered if a company of those crafty foes had dismounted, and were creeping quietly forward under cover of the darkness. alert to catch the slightest sound, the three daring scouts moved on. when they were near the timber they stopped. they felt sure that the cheyennes were watching at the edge of the grove. they believed that it would be perilous to go nearer without warning them. still they feared to call. they listened for sounds from their friends. the grove was silent. "stay here with the ponies," white otter whispered. "i will crawl ahead, and find our friends. if the pawnees come, ride to the trees." he left his pony with sun bird, and disappeared into the shadows. realizing that the cheyennes might take him for a foe, he feared to make the slightest sound. when he was close upon the grove he stopped to listen. the silence continued. white otter dropped to his hands and knees and crept still nearer. he was within a few bow lengths of the timber. each moment he expected to hear the subdued murmur of voices, or the restless stamping of ponies. he heard neither. the stillness puzzled him. "ho, cheyennes, i am a dacotah," he called, softly. "i have come to help you." he waited in great suspense. there was no reply. had the cheyennes failed to hear him? were they unfamiliar with his words? he knew that many of the cheyennes understood and spoke the dacotah dialect. he crept forward until he was within leaping distance of the trees. then he repeated his message. again it went unanswered. "it is mysterious," he murmured, uneasily. while he waited, the cry of the timber wolf sounded across the plain. it made him impatient. he feared that the pawnees were preparing to charge upon the grove. his fears were strengthened a moment afterward when the cry was repeated from another part of the plain. twice more it rang ominously through the night; each time from a different direction. white otter believed that the pawnees were ready to advance. there was no time for further caution. he rose, and ran recklessly to the edge of the timber. "cheyennes, i am a dacotah, hold your arrows!" he cried. there was no one there. white otter hurried into the grove, calling the cheyennes. they failed to answer. he circled frantically through the timber. the grove was deserted. he was overcome with astonishment. for a moment he stood staring wildly into the shadows. then he was roused by the sound of ponies. they were close by. he ran to the plain. sun bird and little raven met him. "there is no one here--the cheyennes have gone," white otter told them. they heard him in amazed silence. the announcement overwhelmed them. they had expected to find a strong force of cheyennes waiting at the edge of the grove. "well, there is no time to talk about it," sun bird said, anxiously. "listen, the pawnees are closing in. that is why we came ahead." "yes, i hear them," replied white otter. "if we stay here they will surely catch us. we must try to get away." "it will be a hard thing to do," sun bird told him. "the pawnees are all around us." they heard the boastful war songs of their foes echoing weirdly across the plain. it was evident that the pawnees saw little need of caution. believing that they had trapped the cheyennes in the timber, they were riding boldly forward to attack them. for an instant the sioux forgot their peril in their joy at the escape of their friends. then they realized that they had run into the trap from which the cheyennes had apparently escaped. "the pawnees are getting close, we must go," said white otter. "watch out for scouts," sun bird cautioned him. once again the sioux rode carefully across the plain. this time they turned directly toward the east. they knew that the pawnees were riding to meet them. there seemed little chance of avoiding an encounter. the possibilities filled them with gloomy misgivings. once discovered, they feared that they would be surrounded and speedily annihilated. still they believed that it would have been even more perilous to have taken shelter in the grove. their one chance was to slip between the pawnees in the darkness. the sioux were many arrow flights from the timber when they finally stopped to listen. the ponies raised their heads. the sioux drew tightly on the lariats to prevent an outcry. then they looked anxiously for their foes. they failed to discover them. "watch out, they are close by," whispered white otter. then they heard the pawnee ponies. they were coming directly toward them. the sioux crowded closely together, and waited. they had drawn their arrows, and were prepared to make a fierce fight. the moments seemed endless. at last they heard the pawnees talking. an instant later a rider confronted them. before he had recovered from his surprise, the sioux swept him aside, and broke through the circle of foes. lashing their ponies to desperate speed, they rode safely away before the pawnees recovered from their bewilderment. "ride fast!" cried white otter. "some of those warriors will follow us." they had not gone an arrow flight before they heard a company of pawnees racing after them. determined to hold their lead, they forced the ponies to still greater speed. then they heard the great company of pawnees thundering toward the timber. they chuckled gleefully. "they will find out something big," laughed sun bird. in a few moments the night rang with the shouts of the pawnees. they were attacking the grove. the sioux listened with keen satisfaction. then the noise suddenly subsided. having encountered no resistance, it was apparent that the bewildered pawnees were investigating. as the stillness continued, the sioux felt certain that the pawnees were racing silently about the plain in an effort to find their foes. "now we must fool those warriors behind us," said white otter. he turned sharply toward the north. then they listened to learn if the pawnees had followed them. their hearts filled with joy as they heard them racing away toward the east. "we are safe!" little raven cried, joyously. "yes, we got away from them," said white otter. chapter xii friends having eluded their pursuers, the sioux drew the ponies to an easy canter and continued toward the north. they heard the pawnees signaling far away across the plain. they were still searching for the cheyennes. the sioux wondered how the latter had escaped, and which way they had gone. "it is mysterious," declared white otter. "i do not know how they got away, but i believe they are ahead of us," said sun bird. "the pawnees found the buffaloes and chased them off. the cheyennes know about it. i do not believe they will stay in this place. i believe they will go to their people." "well, we must keep going ahead," said white otter. "when it gets light the pawnees will begin to look around. if we stay here they will find us. we did not find the cheyennes, but we must go away. it is bad." they continued to ride until the night was half gone, and then they stopped beside a little stream to rest the ponies. they believed that the pawnees were far behind them, but they determined to take precautions. they took turns at watching until daylight. then they looked anxiously across the plain for signs of their foes. they were nowhere in sight. "it is good," declared sun bird. "now we will go to the cheyenne camp. perhaps we will find our brothers there." white otter kept silent. he was troubled and depressed. his mind was filled with thoughts of red dog and his gallant little company. having failed to bring the hunters to their assistance, white otter had grave fears for their safety. "come, eat some of this meat, and then we will ride away," he told his companions. while the ponies grazed, the sioux ate heartily of the dried elk meat which red dog had given them. as they sat beside the stream they continued to watch the plain. they were about to ride away when white otter discovered something moving along the top of a hill to the westward. "watch sharp, there is something over there," he said, suspiciously. it was some moments before his companions discovered the distant object. then they saw it moving slowly down the side of the ridge. they tried to identify it. "it looks like ma-ya-sh, the wolf," said sun bird. "perhaps it is a scout," suggested little raven. "i believe it is ma-ya-sh," white otter told them. "see, it is moving down that hill. it does not see us. if it was a scout he would know about us. then he would hide behind that hill and watch. i believe it is ma-ya-sh." "yes, i believe it is ma-ya-sh," said sun bird. "now we know that there is no one over there. if the pawnees were over there ma-ya-sh would not show himself." "it is true," replied white otter. convinced that the object moving along the ridge really was a prairie wolf, they mounted the ponies and continued into the north. hopeful that the cheyenne hunters had preceded them, they determined to separate to search for the trail. sun bird rode farther to the westward, and little raven circled toward the east. as the plain was level, it was easy to keep within sight of one another. the day was well advanced when white otter saw sun bird riding in a circle. it was the danger signal, and white otter immediately stopped. then he, too, rode in a circle to warn little raven. when the latter saw him, white otter galloped his pony toward sun bird. little raven also rode toward the west. "what did you see?" white otter inquired, anxiously, as he approached the minneconjoux. "here are fresh pony tracks," sun bird told him. the trail had come from the westward, and turned abruptly toward the north. it showed the hoof marks of many ponies. for some moments they studied it in silence. "it must be the cheyennes," sun bird said, finally. "yes, i believe those are the marks of the cheyenne ponies," replied white otter. "what is it?" inquired little raven, who joined them at that moment. "here are the marks of some ponies," white otter told him. "i believe it is the trail of our brothers, the cheyennes," said little raven. "we are not sure about it," white otter told him. "perhaps it is the pawnees. perhaps they passed by us when it was dark. perhaps they circled over here and went ahead to catch the cheyennes. we must not let them fool us again. we will watch out." "you are a good leader," declared sun bird. "i see that what you say may be true. yes, we will be cautious." they rode rapidly along the trail. it was plain and easy to follow. they had not gone far, however, when they saw something which brought them to a sudden stop. a riderless pony had appeared on a knoll directly ahead of them. they watched suspiciously. at sight of them the pony raised its head and whinnied. then it began to feed. it moved in an awkward and unnatural manner that aroused their fears. "i believe some one is hiding behind that pony," declared white otter. "if he is a scout why did he go up on that high place?" little raven asked, curiously. "if he kept hiding we would not know about him." "perhaps he was coming down that hill before we saw him," said white otter. "then he saw us and hid behind his pony. now he is trying to lead it over the top of that hill." "yes, i believe that is what he is trying to do," declared sun bird. the pony was still feeding, and moving slowly toward the top of the hill. they felt sure that it was guided by some one behind it. it was far beyond arrow range. as they were in no danger, the sioux waited to watch it. "perhaps it is a cheyenne," said sun bird. "come, white otter, make the signal." at that moment a warrior sprang upon the pony, and disappeared over the top of the hill. the sioux had been unable to identify him. his appearance, however, caused them considerable anxiety. they realized that if he was a cheyenne he had probably mistaken them for foes. in that event he would warn his companions, and they might race away before the sioux could get in touch with them. if he was a pawnee the possibilities were more alarming. "it is bad," said sun bird. "if we go ahead, perhaps we will run into the pawnees. if we hold back perhaps our brothers, the cheyennes, will ride away from us." "we will go ahead," said white otter. they approached the hill with great care. they watched closely before they ventured up the slope. when they reached the top they saw a large company of horsemen, far away across the plain. they appeared to be watching the hill. the sioux believed the scout had warned them. "come, make the signal," said sun bird. "we will see what comes of it." "yes, make the signal," urged little raven. "i believe they are cheyennes." white otter raised his hands high above his head. it was the sign for peace. he repeated the signal several times. then he rode his pony part way down the hill, and returned to the top. in the meantime sun bird had waved his robe up and down, and then spread it upon the ground. he, too, repeated the signal. it was an invitation to come and talk. having thus proclaimed their peaceful intentions, and invited the strangers to meet them, the sioux watched for an answer to the signals. the horsemen made no reply. "they are cautious," said sun bird. "perhaps they take us for pawnees." "perhaps it is the pawnees after all," declared little raven. "well, they are far away, they cannot catch us," white otter told them. "we will go toward them. then we will see what they propose to do." they rode a bowshot across the plain. then they stopped and repeated the signals. in a few moments a rider separated from his companions, and replied to the signs. he raised his hands above his head. then he suddenly swept his right hand toward the ground. it, too, was an invitation to approach and talk. "they are trying to draw us over there," said sun bird. "no, we are not so foolish. we will wait until we see who they are." "it is the only thing to do," agreed white otter. having previously mistaken the pawnees for the cheyennes, the sioux determined to be careful. sun bird dismounted and again signaled with his robe. then they waited. many moments passed before they received an answer. then three riders started slowly across the plain. "it is too many, watch out," cautioned white otter. "come, we will tell them what to do. follow me." the sioux rode forward abreast. when they had gone a short distance, they turned and rode back. then white otter rode forward alone. the signal was meant to warn the approaching horsemen that one only must come to the council. the strangers, however, ignored the suggestion. all three continued toward the sioux. white otter turned and cantered toward his friends. "come," he said. "i believe those people are trying to fool us." they rode back toward the hill. their action made it plain that they mistrusted the intentions of the strangers. the latter seemed to understand. they had stopped, and were holding their hands above their heads to proclaim their peaceful intentions. the sioux continued toward the hill. then two of the horsemen turned about, and cantered toward their companions. the third rider still waited with his hands raised. "it is good," cried white otter. "i will go and find out who he is." "be cautious," sun bird warned him. "i will watch out," declared white otter. he turned his pony, and rode toward the stranger. the latter immediately lowered his arms. sun bird and little raven watched anxiously. white otter advanced with great caution. he was making every effort to identify the horseman before he came within arrow range. neither of them had drawn their weapons. to have approached weapons in hand would have been evidence of suspicion and lack of faith. when they finally came within bow range, they stopped and examined each other with close attention. then white otter suddenly recognized a friend. "ho, running crow, now i see who you are," he cried, eagerly. "hi, hi, it is my brother, white otter," shouted the cheyenne. a moment afterward they met and clasped hands. the cheyenne was a noted warrior and scout with whom white otter had shared several perilous adventures. aware that white otter had found a friend, sun bird and little raven immediately rode forward to join them. "ho, my brothers," running crow cried cordially. "i see that one of you is sun bird. i do not know about that other warrior." "he is my brother, little raven," said sun bird. "little raven is a great warrior." "my brothers, how do you come to be in this place?" running crow inquired, anxiously. "red dog sent us to find you," white otter said, soberly. "has something bad happened to our people?" running crow asked quickly. "the kiowas were all around the camp," said white otter. "it was a great war party. i believe your people are in much danger." the cheyenne remained silent. for some moments he stared wildly into the eyes of the ogalala. the sioux watched him with pity. they knew that he was striving to master his grief before he spoke. "when did you leave my people?" he asked, finally. "two suns have passed since we came away from your village," white otter told him. "it is bad, it is bad," running crow declared gloomily. "come, we will go and tell my brothers about it." "who is the leader?" inquired sun bird, as they rode toward the cheyennes. "i am the leader," said running crow. the sioux found many old friends and allies among the cheyennes. there was red crane, and turns around, and black beaver, and sitting bear and fighting wolf and several more. some were unable to speak the dacotah dialect, but they clasped hands with the young scouts and made it plain that they were glad to see them. then running crow addressed his warriors. "my brothers, i have bad words," he said. "there is little time to talk. listen sharp. these brave dacotahs came here to find us. red dog sent them. the kiowas were all around our village. they say it was a great war party. two suns have passed since the dacotahs came away. i do not know what has happened to our people. perhaps the kiowas have killed them. come, my brothers, we must ride fast to the camp." chapter xiii the abandoned camp early the following day the cheyennes came in sight of their village. they looked anxiously across the plain, hoping to see something which would quiet their fears. they were a long way off, however, and it was impossible to learn what they wished to know. they rode furiously toward the lodges. as they approached they began to shout fiercely, and look for the kiowas. there was no response from the camp. "it is bad," running crow cried, in alarm. when they finally came within bowshot, they suddenly realized that the village was deserted. their hopes died at the thought. they rode frantically to the edge of the camp. it bore grim testimony to the success of the kiowa attack. the corral was empty. many of the lodges were burned. still, silent forms lay about the village. a dog howled dismally. "our people have been wiped away," running crow cried, dolefully, as he rode his frightened pony into the camp. the cheyennes followed silently behind their leader. they looked solemnly upon the valiant friends who had given their lives in defense of the village. grief overcame them. they were unable to speak. "it is bad, it is bad," white otter said, bitterly. "what i was thinking about has come to pass. red dog and his people have been killed." the sioux moved about the camp with bowed heads. it was a scene which stirred their sympathy and filled them with gloom. many of the cheyennes had dismounted, and were entering the lodges which had escaped the flames. it was evident that they were searching for friends and relatives whom they had failed to find in the camp. other riders were searching about the plain in the vicinity of the village. then running crow suddenly called them to the center of the camp. "my brothers, a terrible thing has happened to our people," he said. "the ponies are gone. the lodges are burned. many brave friends are dead. our enemies, the kiowas, have done this thing! remember it. keep it in your hearts. keep thinking about it. it is useless to talk about it. you are cheyennes. you see what i see. you feel what i feel. it is enough. "my brothers, listen sharp. many brave warriors are lying here, but many of our people are missing. where are the women? where are the children? where is red dog? where is ghost bear? where are cloud eagle, and two dogs, and walks alone, and hairy robe and lame bear? where are painted weasel, and running buffalo, and thunder hawk and white horse? what has become of those people?----" "i will tell you!" cried a voice from the edge of the camp. the cheyennes turned in alarm. old ghost bear, the medicine man, was tottering into the village. they gazed upon him with frightened, superstitious eyes. he looked like one who was dead. he stood before them, swaying dizzily, and holding his hand across his eyes. the cheyennes waited silently for him to speak. it was some moments before he was able to control himself. "cheyennes, cheyennes, cheyennes, look about you!" he cried. "everything has been wiped away. the kiowas were too strong for us. we held them off a long time. we waited for you. you did not come. then the kiowas got into the village. we fought hard, but we could not drive them out. they killed many of our people. they ran off the ponies. they burned the lodges." ghost bear suddenly covered his face with his hands, while his aged body shook with grief. the cheyennes looked upon him with compassion. it was the first time they had seen him betray emotion, and they realized that the great catastrophe had broken his heart. they feared he was about to die. he had dropped to his knees, and was moaning and sobbing like a child. running crow went forward and placed his hand upon him. ghost bear dropped his hands, and looked wildly at his tribesman. "come," said running crow. "you are a great medicine person. you must help us. tell us what has become of the women and children. tell us what has become of red dog. tell us what has become of all those warriors." "yes, yes, i will tell you about it," said ghost bear, as he struggled to his feet. he gave a thrilling account of the desperate battle with the kiowas. the cheyennes listened with breathless interest. their eyes flashed as he told how red dog got the women and children safely out of the camp. then he told how the kiowas had entered the village, and speedily overwhelmed the little company of cheyennes. he said that some of the cheyennes reached the ponies, and fought their way from the camp. he saw red dog kill two kiowas. "then i ran away, and i do not know what became of red dog and those brave warriors," ghost bear continued. "perhaps they were killed. i ran a long ways. then i crawled into some bushes. it was very dark, and the kiowas could not find me. i heard them passing around me many times. then they went away. i heard them running off the ponies, and singing the war songs. pretty soon i saw the lodges burning. i felt very bad. well, my brothers, i waited in those bushes until you came here. at first i took you for the kiowas. i wanted to die, so i came to the village. then i saw you. now i have told you all i know about it." "ghost bear, you have told us how this thing happened," said running crow. "you have told how the women and children got away. it is good. you say you do not know what became of red dog and those warriors. we will try to find out about them." running crow called several warriors, and told them to circle far out over the plain in a search for the missing cheyennes. he feared that they might have been killed beyond the camp. the scouts rode away. the cheyennes watched them closely, as they rode carefully about the plain. it was a long time before they returned. they said that they had found the tracks of many ponies going toward the north. they declared that there were no dead cheyennes outside of the camp. "it is good," cried running crow. "i believe our brothers got away. perhaps they have gone into the country of the ogalalas. i believe red dog went with them." as he finished speaking, a warrior at the edge of the camp cried out and said that several riders were approaching from the north. the cheyennes hurried from the village to see them. the riders instantly discovered them, and stopped the ponies. there were three. they were far away. "i believe they are our people," running crow declared, excitedly. "they are coming back to find out about this thing. come, we must let them know who we are." one of the warriors rode forward and raised his arm high above his head. then he rode rapidly to and fro. it was the rallying signal. a moment afterward the riders galloped forward. as they came nearer, they again became cautious. then the cheyennes began to call to them. they heard them, and raced the ponies toward the camp. as they came within arrow range, the cheyennes recognized them. they were painted weasel, and thunder hawk and white horse. "our brothers have come back--it is good," cried the cheyennes. "now we will find out about this thing." "well, my brothers, i see that you are alive--it is good," said running crow, as he met them at the edge of the camp. "there are only a few of us left," painted weasel replied, soberly. "where are the warriors who were with you?" inquired running crow. "they are following our people toward the lodges of the ogalalas," painted weasel told him. "is red dog with them?" running crow asked, anxiously. "no," said painted weasel. "we do not know what became of him. we came back here to find out about it. he was with us when we were fighting to get away. he was very brave. i saw him kill two kiowas." "yes, yes, i saw him kill them," cried old ghost bear. "what became of him?" painted weasel asked him. "i cannot tell you that," said ghost bear. "i ran out of the village, and did not see any more of him." "i was close beside him," declared thunder hawk. "then the kiowas rushed at me, and i had a hard time of it. when i looked around i did not see anything more of red dog. then i heard my brothers riding away. i went after them. i thought red dog was with them. well, my brothers, he was not there. no one knew anything about him." "perhaps he was killed," said white horse. "did you look all around?" "yes, we looked sharp," running crow told him. "we did not find him." "then i believe the kiowas must have carried him off," said painted weasel. the cheyennes were crushed by the possibility. dismay kept them silent. they knew only too well the fate that awaited red dog if he had fallen into the hands of his enemies. their courage rose at thought of his peril. they determined to save him, or avenge his death. "yes, my brothers, i believe the kiowas have carried off red dog," white horse told them. "we must try to save him. there is only one thing to do. we must go to the kiowa camp, and try to take him away." "my brothers, i have listened to your words--they are good," said running crow. "i believe the kiowas caught red dog. it is bad. he is our chief. he has done many good things for his people. we must try to help him. now i will tell you how i feel about it. white otter is a great war chief of the ogalalas. he has done many big things. he has helped us fight the pawnees. he has helped us fight the kiowas. we know that he is a good war leader. he has been to the pawnee village. he took away the great chief wolf robe and that great medicine person, yellow horse. he has been to the kiowa camp. he went into that camp and ran off ponies. white otter knows how to do big things. my brothers, i am going to ask this great ogalala war chief to lead us to the kiowa camp." "it is good!" cried the cheyennes. "white otter is a great chief. he must be the leader." "come, white otter, tell us how you feel about it," said running crow. "my brothers, i will lead you to the kiowa camp," white otter told them. "your people are my friends. we came here to help you. the kiowas are our enemies. they have killed many of your people. they have burned your lodges. they have run off your ponies. i believe they have carried away your chief. red dog is my friend. my heart is bad against the kiowas. i am going to the kiowa camp to find out about red dog. yes, cheyennes, i will lead you to fight our enemies. i believe my people will come to help us." "hi, hi!" cried running crow. when they learned that the ogalala would lead them against the kiowas, the cheyennes felt sure of victory. they had great confidence in his ability, for his exploits had made him famous. for the moment they forgot their grief, as they thrilled at the call of the war trail. their hearts burned with a fierce desire for vengeance, and they believed that white otter would give them an opportunity to retaliate upon their foes. the thought stirred them. they began to sing the war songs, and make savage threats against the kiowas. some of the younger warriors began to dance. the village rang with their shouts. the older men soon yielded to the excitement. in a few moments the entire company joined in the wild antics of the war dance. white otter took no part. he, too, longed to shout, and sing, and dance and make fierce threats against his foes, but he realised that it was not the part of a great chief to yield to his emotions. sun bird and little raven, however, took a prominent part in the dance. white otter heard their voices rising in the fierce dacotah war cry, and his blood tingled at the sound. then the cheyennes finally brought the wild ceremony to an end, and stood quietly beside their ponies, awaiting instruction from the ogalala chief. white otter looked upon them with admiration. they were a splendid body of warriors, and he was proud to command them. tall and sinewy, their stern faces and flashing eyes proclaimed their courage. they compared favorably with the famous dacotah fighting men, and having seen them in battle white otter knew that they were equally bold and indomitable. "cheyennes, i see that you are ready," said white otter. "it is good. you have made me the leader. i will tell you how i feel about this thing. i believe my people will come here to help us. some of you must stay here to watch for them. then you must bring them to the kiowa camp. the rest of us will go ahead to fight the kiowas. their village is two sun's travel away. they have reached their lodges. we must follow them to their camp. when we get there i will tell you what to do. i have finished." as running crow translated the words, white otter saw disappointment on the faces of the cheyennes. they began to talk softly to one another. he knew at once that they were discussing who should be left behind to watch. each hoped to avoid the task. all wished to fight the kiowas. then ghost bear suddenly offered a solution of the difficulty. "listen, my brothers," he cried, eagerly. "all of you are young men. a young man must fight. i am old. i cannot ride the war ponies. i will stay here and watch for the ogalalas. if they come i will tell them where to find you." "if you stay here alone, perhaps something bad will happen to you," running crow told him. "no, no, nothing will happen to me," ghost bear assured him. "i will put away those brave warriors who are lying here. then i will wait for the ogalalas. there is meat here. the kiowas did not find it. i will have plenty to eat. i am a medicine person, nothing can harm me. if enemies come here, i will run away and hide in the bushes. come, my brothers, ride away and leave me. there is little time." "ghost bear, you are very brave," declared white otter, when running crow told him of the old medicine man's proposal. a few moments later the cheyenne war party left the camp. they rode across the plain, singing their war songs, and old ghost bear cackled gleefully as he heard them. he watched until they were beyond range of his dim old eyes. then he moved slowly into the village. he stopped and gazed sadly upon the forms of his friends. "listen, you silent people," he cried. "the kiowas have sent you on the long trail. you were very brave. our people will talk about you a long time. now our brothers have gone to kill many kiowas. white otter, the great war chief of the ogalalas, is the leader. soon you will hear a great noise. you will know it is the kiowas. they will cry like women when our brothers begin to kill them. then you must laugh at them." chapter xiv in pursuit of the kiowas the kiowa trail was easy to follow, for the great herd of ponies had left many tracks. white otter felt sure that the kiowas would lose little time in getting to their camp. the trail confirmed his decision. it led toward the southeast, the direction of the kiowa village. white otter believed that it would be useless to attempt to overtake his foes. some of the younger, more impulsive warriors were eager to race ahead, but white otter held them back. "it is useless to kill your ponies," he told them. "the kiowas have reached their lodges." when they had passed beyond sight of the cheyenne village, he began to take precautions. two possibilities suggested themselves. he realized that the kiowas might have expected pursuit and left scouts behind to watch their trail. he also knew that the pawnees were abroad, and he feared that they might have followed the trail of the cheyenne hunters. he sent scouts to ride ahead and on both sides of the war party. "if you see anything, tell us about it," he told them. then the war party continued across the plain. white otter realized that while his force was large enough for a sudden attack against the kiowa camp, it was not sufficiently strong to risk a fight in the open. besides, he hoped to accomplish his purpose without bringing further loss upon the cheyennes. the day passed without alarm. toward sunset they saw one of the scouts returning. they believed he had discovered something. white otter called running crow to act as interpreter. "he says he saw some buffaloes over there," said running crow, as he pointed toward the south. "then i believe the pawnees are near," white otter told him. "we must watch out for them. tell your brother to go back there, and keep watching. tell him when it gets dark to come to the place where many trees grow. he will find us there." running crow repeated the instructions, and the scout rode away. it was not long before one of the scouts who was riding in advance came back. he was a warrior named standing bull, who spoke the sioux dialect. "we looked sharp but we did not see anything," he told white otter. "sitting bear and black beaver are riding ahead. i came back to find out where to find you when it gets dark." "you will find us at the place where many trees grow," white otter told him. "do you know that place?" "yes, i know it," said standing bull. "there is good water there." he rode ahead to join his companions. he had barely gone before one of the other scouts joined the war party. he, too, reported that he had seen nothing to arouse suspicion. when he learned where the cheyennes planned to spend the night he rode away. "it is good," said running crow, who rode beside white otter. "our brothers have seen nothing but some buffaloes." "perhaps those buffaloes will bring the pawnees," replied white otter. "no, my brother, i do not believe we will see the wolf people," running crow told him. "they have killed many buffaloes. they have plenty of meat. i believe they will take it to their people." shortly afterward they came in sight of a large grove of aspens. it was a familiar camp site, and white otter had been there before. as they drew near the timber they stopped, while scouts went forward to investigate. they rode cautiously about the grove to make sure that it was free of foes. the cheyennes watched closely. they realized that it offered a tempting hiding place to kiowa scouts. one of the riders finally disappeared into the timber. a few moments afterward be signaled the war party to advance. "the way is clear," said running crow. when the cheyennes entered the grove the scouts showed them a number of fresh pony tracks. white otter examined them with much interest. they seemed to cause him considerable uneasiness. "well, my brother, how do you feel about those tracks?" sun bird asked him. "it looks bad," said white otter. "there were three ponies in this place. it was not long ago. perhaps it was kiowa scouts. perhaps they saw us coming here. perhaps they have gone to tell their people about it. we must watch out." "if the kiowas come here the scouts will tell us about it," said running crow. "yes, that is true," replied white otter. "but some one must keep watching out there on the plain. the kiowas are sharp. perhaps they will creep past the scouts." several warriors offered to go out on the plain to watch. then the cheyennes picketed their ponies, and lay down to rest. for two days they had ridden hard, and they were tired and sore. "white otter, i have something bad to tell you," sun bird said, as he seated himself beside the ogalala. white otter turned inquiringly. "the kiowas took away our ponies," said sun bird. "painted weasel told me about it. running buffalo found little raven's pony, but our ponies are with the kiowas." "hi, that is bad," cried white otter. "well, i will get back my pony. curly horse, your chief, gave it to me. i will not let it go. it is the fastest pony i ever rode. yes, i will take it away from the kiowas." "we will get them back," sun bird declared, confidently. "my pony is very fast. i will not let the kiowas keep it." the loss of the ponies saddened them. white otter felt sure that neither friend nor foe owned a pony with the speed and endurance of the little piebald which he had received from the minneconjoux chief. sun bird was equally attached to the little roan. it had beaten most of the ponies in the minneconjoux camp, and had carried him to safety in several thrilling escapes from his foes. "how did the kiowas get those ponies?" white otter asked, suddenly. "painted weasel says that all the war ponies were in the camp," said sun bird. "when the kiowas ran into the village, the cheyennes ran to get the ponies. they had a big fight. the kiowas got many of those ponies. our ponies were with those ponies they took away." the sun had disappeared, and the twilight shadows were forming on the plain. many of the cheyennes were asleep. the ponies had finished feeding, and most of them were lying down. the camp was in peaceful repose. white otter looked on with satisfaction. "it is good," he said. "the cheyennes and their ponies are resting. they will be strong to fight." then, as night closed down, white otter left his companions and seated himself at the edge of the grove. he was serious and thoughtful. he suddenly realized his responsibility. the cheyennes had placed themselves under his leadership. they were depending upon him to save their chief. he knew the difficulties and perils which were before him. he wondered if he would be able to overcome them. for a moment he felt doubtful. would he fail? would he bring another staggering disaster upon the unfortunate cheyennes? he grew weak at the thought. then he realized that he was yielding to fear. the idea roused him. he felt ashamed. he rallied from the mood. he recalled that he had overcome the kiowas under still greater difficulties. it restored his confidence. his courage returned. he laughed away his fears. "i am an ogalala," he said, proudly. "i will do what i have set out to do." he rose, and turned his face toward the heavens. he asked wa-kan-tun-ka, the great mystery, to give him strength and courage to overcome his enemies. then he returned to his friends. he found sun bird and little raven asleep. running crow was seated a short distance away. white otter joined him. "my brother, why are you awake?" white otter asked. "i am the leader. i will watch. come, running crow, lie down and sleep." "no, i cannot sleep," running crow told him. "my heart is heavy. i am thinking about my people. i am thinking about my friends who were killed by the kiowas. i am thinking about red dog. perhaps the kiowas have killed him." white otter remained silent. the words of running crow revived his fears. he knew the bitter enmity between the kiowas and the cheyennes, and he feared that red dog might have been killed soon after entering the camp. running crow seemed to understand the significance of his silence. "i see that you believe red dog is dead," running crow said, sharply. "no, i do not believe it," white otter told him. "we cannot tell about it until we get to the kiowa camp. i----" he ceased speaking. a pony had called, close at hand. running crow sprang to his feet. the cheyennes sat up to listen. white otter stared anxiously into the night. "it is one of the scouts," said running crow. "watch," white otter cautioned him. for some moments all was still. then they heard some one riding toward them. they had little doubt that it was a scout, but they were cautious. the cheyennes had risen and moved to the edge of the grove. the rider had stopped. they became suspicious. they waited anxiously for a signal. at last it came. "do not be afraid, my brothers," said a familiar voice. a moment later fighting wolf, one of the scouts, appeared out of the darkness. running crow began to talk with him. the cheyennes listened eagerly. the sioux, however, were unable to understand his words. "fighting wolf says that he heard the call of the great gray wolf," running crow told white otter. "it was far away." "the pawnees made that call," declared white otter. "we will be cautious." at dawn the scouts returned to the grove. with the exception of fighting wolf and his companions who had heard the wolf call, they declared that the night had passed without alarm. white otter felt considerably encouraged. he believed that the kiowas had failed to guard their trail. it was evident that they had little fear of being overtaken before they reached their camp. "i believe they will keep a sharp watch around their village," white otter told running crow. the sun had not appeared when the war party left the grove and cantered away toward the kiowa camp. white otter asked running crow to select the most expert warriors to ride in advance, as he believed there was great danger of encountering kiowa scouts. when half of the day had passed, white otter began to notice familiar landmarks which told him that he was approaching the vicinity of the kiowa camp. he became more cautious. "we are getting close to our enemies," he told running crow. soon afterward they saw the famous scout, painted weasel, racing toward them. white otter immediately called a halt. they watched the scout with considerable anxiety. he was lashing his pony, and pointing behind him. "perhaps the kiowas are coming," they told one another. when painted weasel came within shouting distance he called out to white otter in the sioux tongue. "so-ta, so-ta!" he cried. "painted weasel says smoke," white otter told them. "my brother, we saw some smoke a long way ahead of us," painted weasel said, excitedly. "we were peeping over the top of a hill. we saw many trees. we were watching sharp. then i saw that smoke. i believe the kiowa camp is over there. i came to tell you about it." "yes, it is true," white otter told him. "the camp is in that place. i know about it. where are your brothers?" "standing bull and red crane are watching." "it is good," said white otter. "running crow, tell your people about it." the cheyennes became greatly excited. almost within sight of the kiowa camp, they were eager to approach and begin the fight. some of the warriors proposed riding back to the ridge with painted weasel to reconnoiter. white otter kept them back. "cheyennes, you have made me the leader," he cried. "you must do as i tell you. now listen to my words. red dog your chief is in that camp. if you let the kiowas know that we are here, red dog will be killed. there is only one way to do this thing. we must hide until it gets dark. then some of us will go ahead and try to find out something. there is a gully over there toward the place-where-the-warm-wind-blows. i will take you over there. it is a good place to hide in. before we go there we must call in our brothers, and tell them about it." running crow repeated the words to his tribesmen. they heartily indorsed the plan. "the ogalala is a great leader," they said. then a warrior rode out on each side of the war party and galloped his pony in a circle. the scouts were visible, far away across the plain. they soon saw the riders and understood the signals. in a few moments the cheyennes saw them riding in. in the meantime painted weasel had ridden away to acquaint his companions with the plans of the war party. "now we will go to that gully," said white otter. he circled more to the southward, and led them across the plain at a brisk canter. the scouts finally overtook them, and rode along beside them. they kept a sharp watch for their foes, but except for a few stray bunches of antelopes, the plain appeared lifeless. the day was well advanced when they eventually reached a deep ravine that extended far across the plain. "we will hide here and watch until it gets dark," white otter told them. guards were appointed to watch the ponies, and then most of the warriors crawled up the side of the ravine to watch the plain. they looked eagerly into the east in the hope of discovering smoke from the kiowa camp. "perhaps it has died out; perhaps it is too far away," running crow told them. sun bird and little raven had joined white otter. the three young scouts lay beside each other at the top of the ravine. they stared silently across the plain. the sun had set, and the evening shadows were already gathering in the east. "see, see, some one is riding this way," little raven cried suddenly. three horsemen were racing toward the ravine. the cheyennes were talking excitedly. they felt certain that the riders were the scouts who had gone to watch from the ridge to the eastward. the sioux also believed that painted weasel and his companions were returning with word of some important discovery. running crow hastened to join white otter. "it looks bad," he said suspiciously. "something has happened." "pretty soon we will know about it," white otter said, quietly. as the scouts approached the ravine, the foremost rider raised his hand above his head as a token of friendship. then they recognized him as painted weasel. when he reached them he called for white otter. "here is white otter," running crow told him. "the kiowa scouts have gone to that hill to watch," said painted weasel. "we got away before they saw us." "it is good," replied white otter. "now it will be hard to get near the camp," said running crow. "we will fool them," white otter assured him. chapter xv daring scouts at dark white otter called the cheyennes to assemble in the ravine. then he announced his plans. "my brothers, i am going to the kiowa camp to find out about red dog," he said. "i will try to find out about the ponies. then i will come back and tell you what to do. you must wait here. keep a sharp watch. do not let the kiowas find you. if you hear them coming, ride away to that place where the trees are. if i do not come back before another sun goes away you will know that something bad has happened to me. i will watch out. i do not believe the kiowas will catch me. now i am going to ask sun bird and little raven to go with me. sun bird knows about that camp. little raven will help us with the ponies. now, my friends, i am going away. pretty soon i will come back and tell you about red dog." when running crow told the plan to the cheyennes, they expressed their disapproval. most of them wished to accompany white otter on the perilous expedition. they believed that it would be foolhardy for the three sioux to go without them. "white otter, i will tell you how my brothers feel about this thing," said running crow. "they say that it would be foolish for the dacotahs to go to that camp alone. the kiowas are watching. perhaps you will meet them. there will be only three of you. there will be many kiowas. perhaps you will be killed. then your people will say, 'the cheyennes held back. they were afraid. they sent our brothers ahead to die.' then we would feel bad. come, take some of these brave warriors with you. then if the kiowas come after you, it will be easy to get away." "running crow, i have listened to your words," replied white otter. "if too many of us go to do this thing, the kiowas will hear us. we must not let them know that we are here until we are ready to rush into the camp. do not feel afraid. nothing will happen to me. once i went to that camp with my brother sun bird, and took away ponies. i will go there again." "well, my brother, i see that you propose to go ahead with this thing, so i will not talk any more against it," said running crow. "it is good," declared white otter. soon afterward the three sioux scouts rode away. when they were a bowshot from the ravine white otter turned toward the south. he felt quite certain that the kiowas would expect the cheyennes from the north or the west, and he believed it would be safer to approach the camp from the southward. "yes, it is the best way to go," said sun bird. they eventually circled toward the east, and crossed the ridge without encountering their foes. then they rode cautiously in the direction of the kiowa camp. they knew that it was located beside a wide stream to the eastward of another low ridge. having passed the scouts, the sioux hoped to reach the second ridge without being discovered. it seemed a long time before it finally loomed up before them. then they stopped. the camp was only a short distance away. white otter suddenly began to sniff. "so-ta, smoke," he said. the wind was blowing toward them, and they caught the odor from the kiowa fires. they spent some time listening for voices from the ridge. the way appeared to be clear. they rode slowly forward. they had gone only a short distance when white otter suddenly stopped his pony, and dismounted. "it would be foolish to ride closer to that place," he said, softly. "i believe scouts are watching on the top of that hill. if we ride over there they will hear the ponies. i will tell you what i propose to do. little raven, you must stay here with the ponies. sun bird, you must go ahead with me. little raven, you must listen sharp. if you hear anyone coming toward you ride away. do not let the kiowas know who you are. when we come back we will make the call of to-ka-la, the little gray fox. now we will go ahead." "i will keep your words," little raven said, quietly. white otter and sun bird disappeared. a few moments later they stopped at the base of the ridge to listen. the silence reassured them, and they crawled cautiously up the slope. once at the top, they looked eagerly toward the east. they located the camp by the glow from the fires. then they saw them twinkling far away among the trees. they watched with the grim, silent satisfaction of a panther that has discovered its prey. "come," whispered white otter. "we will go down there and look for the ponies. then we will crawl up to the camp and try to find out about red dog." they moved carefully down the ridge, and hurried across the plain. on a former expedition they had learned that the kiowas pastured their ponies to the northward of the camp, and they turned in that direction. they had no thought of attempting to run off the ponies, however, for they realized that such a maneuver would cost the life of the cheyenne chief. besides, they felt certain that the piebald and the roan and the best of the cheyenne war ponies had been taken to the camp for safe keeping. they believed that the rest of the stolen ponies were with the great herd of kiowa ponies that were turned loose upon the plain in the vicinity of the village. white otter was eager to locate them so that the cheyennes would know exactly where to find them when they came to attack the camp. "perhaps the kiowas drove them close to the lodges," suggested sun bird. "yes, it may be true," said white otter. they circled carefully about the plain, searching for the ponies, but were unable to find them. they finally became convinced that the crafty kiowas had driven them close to the camp. it was the usual precaution in times of danger. "well, we will not look any more," said white otter. "the night is passing. there is little time. come, my brother, we will creep up close to the camp. perhaps we will find the ponies there." they turned toward the kiowa village, and advanced with great caution. they stopped many times to make sure that the way was open, before they finally came within bow shot of the camp. it was located in a grove of cottonwoods that lined the banks of a stream. the lodges showed distinctly in the light from the fires, but the trees made it difficult to see into the village. "we must go closer," declared white otter. at that moment a dog began to bark, and they stopped in alarm. had the dog caught their scent? their hopes weakened at the thought. they listened, fearfully, expecting to hear the other dogs take up the challenge. their fears, however, were not confirmed. the dog soon became quiet. the peril had passed. "it is good," whispered white otter. "we will go ahead." they moved through the darkness as silently as shadows, and approached close to the edge of the timber. then they stopped. they were almost within leaping distance of the camp. they feared to advance nearer because of the dogs. then white otter suddenly thought of a way to overcome the peril. "come, my brother, we will climb into this big tree," he proposed. "then we can see into the camp, and the dogs will not find us." "it is good," said sun bird. they climbed noiselessly into a large cottonwood, and went sufficiently high to obtain a splendid view of the kiowa camp. the kiowas were assembled about a large fire, and a warrior whom the sioux took to be the chief was talking excitedly. in a few moments they recognized him. they had outwitted him several years before. "hi, i know that warrior--it is 'the lame wolf,'" laughed sun bird. "yes, i see who it is," replied white otter. a moment afterward they made a still more interesting discovery. they saw a number of ponies tied at one end of the camp, and among them they identified the piebald and the roan. they were tied before a lodge, and the sioux believed that the kiowa who occupied it was the one who had taken the ponies from the cheyenne camp. "pretty soon we will take them away," said sun bird. white otter kept still. he was searching the camp for red dog. the cheyenne chief was not in sight. white otter became alarmed. he wondered if the kiowas had already killed their prisoner. the possibility staggered him. he fastened his attention upon the man who was addressing his people. he appeared to be telling them something important. they were listening with serious attention. the entire tribe seemed to have assembled at the council fire, for the sioux saw men, women and children in the group. then the speaker suddenly pointed toward one of the lodges, and the sioux looked eagerly in the direction. a moment afterward the robe was drawn from the doorway of the lodge, and three warriors appeared. the sioux instantly recognized one as red dog. "watch sharp!" said white otter. the appearance of the cheyenne chief threw the kiowas into a turmoil. they rose to their feet, and began to shout, and jeer, and threaten their foe. the latter walked slowly forward between his guards. he was badly crippled and walked with difficulty, and the kiowas laughed at his misfortune. several boys followed behind him, mimicking his gait. the eyes of the sioux flashed dangerously. "i would like to kill those people," declared sun bird. "wait," white otter said, grimly. red dog was led to the council fire. the kiowas immediately began to threaten him. they crowded closely about him, shouting and shaking their fists, but the cheyenne appeared calm and fearless. then the warrior whom the sioux had recognized called out sharply, and the kiowas fell back. a moment afterward he addressed the prisoner. the sioux wondered if he was speaking in the cheyenne dialect. red dog gave no indication that he understood him. when the kiowa finally paused, and appeared to be waiting for a reply, the cheyenne remained silent. the kiowa laughed scornfully, and turned away. then red dog was taken back to the lodge. the sioux felt greatly relieved. they believed that red dog would be spared for the night at least. the thought gave them hope. they believed that the following night they might be able to rescue him from his predicament. "we have found out what we wished to know," said white otter. "come, we will go and tell the cheyennes about it." "yes, we must get far away before the light comes," declared sun bird. they were about to descend, when they suddenly heard voices. the speakers were approaching the camp. they were close to the tree in which the sioux had concealed themselves. the latter waited anxiously for the prowlers to pass. they believed that they were scouts who had been watching on the plain. then the voices ceased, and the sioux became uneasy. they wondered if the scouts had gone. they watched to see them enter the camp. long moments passed. the scouts failed to appear. the sioux wondered what had become of them. then they heard them talking directly beneath them. they had stopped at the tree. the sioux wondered if they had been discovered. they feared to move. at last they heard the kiowas passing on. a moment afterward they saw two warriors enter the camp. "now we will go," said white otter. they descended from the tree, and sped safely into the night. dawn was almost at hand when they finally found little raven. "you have come--it is good," he said. "did you find red dog?" "yes, we saw red dog in the kiowa camp," white otter told him. "did you see the ponies?" "yes, our ponies are in that camp," said sun bird. "hi, that is good," declared little raven. "did anything happen to you?" white otter asked him, as they rode toward the cheyennes. "no, nothing happened to me," said little raven. "i listened sharp, but i did not hear anything." chapter xvi a thrilling rescue having crossed safely over the ridge where they believed the kiowa scouts were watching, the sioux rode desperately to reach the ravine before daylight. there was not a moment to spare. dawn was flushing the eastern sky when they finally encountered the first cheyenne scout. they stopped, and white otter imitated the bark of to-ko-la, the little gray fox. "you have come back--it is good," cried painted weasel. "yes, it is good," white otter told him. they ran the ponies toward the ravine. the cheyennes were overjoyed at their safe return. they gathered eagerly about them to learn if they had reached the kiowa camp. "cheyennes, red dog is alive," white otter told them. "we saw him in the kiowa camp." "it is good, it is good," cried running crow. "my brothers, you have done a big thing." the cheyennes were beside themselves with excitement. their gloom vanished. their hearts filled with hope. having learned that their chief was alive, their one thought was to rescue him. they realized, however, that it would be foolhardy to make the attempt before night. the thought suddenly sobered them. the delay suggested alarming possibilities. they began to have doubts. "perhaps the kiowas will kill red dog before the night comes," they told one another. aroused by the thought, some of the warriors made reckless proposals to attack the camp at once. the majority, however, talked against it. "we must wait," running crow told them. "if we let the kiowas see us, they will kill red dog before we can help him. i do not believe anything will happen to him before the night comes. come, white otter, you are the leader, tell us how you feel about it." "my brothers, we must wait," declared white otter. "i do not believe the kiowas will kill red dog before the night comes. i will tell you how i feel about it. i believe the kiowas are getting ready for a big talk. they will tell their people about the great fight. they will dance and sing the war songs. then red dog will be in danger. i believe they will bring him out to kill him. i do not believe they will do anything until it gets dark. then we will be close to the camp. we will rush in and carry away your chief. pretty soon i will tell you how i propose to do it. you must wait until i tell you about it. if you do anything foolish, red dog will surely die. "now i will tell you something different. my brothers, we found the ponies. the war ponies are in the kiowa camp. the other ponies are outside with the kiowa ponies. we will run off the ponies when we carry away red dog. this will be a big fight. i know that all of you are brave enough to go through with it. you must also be sharp. we must fool the kiowas. then they will not kill red dog before we get into the camp. i believe some scouts are still watching over there on that long hill. i believe they will go away before it gets dark. we must keep hiding in this place until they go away. now i have told you what i have to say about it." his words made a favorable impression upon the cheyennes. they were convinced that his plan offered the only hope of saving red dog. they were eager to learn how he proposed to overcome the kiowa camp without sacrificing the life of the cheyenne chief. white otter showed no inclination to tell them. "my brothers, white otter is a great chief," said running crow. "a great chief does not tell what he is about to do. you must wait until it is time to go ahead with this thing. then white otter will tell us about it." day had dawned, and the sun was appearing above the plain. most of the cheyennes crept to the top of the ravine to watch for signs of the kiowas. they wondered if scouts were still watching on the distant ridge. there was no way of learning. the day was well advanced when the cheyennes discovered a band of animals on the summit of the ridge. they studied them with eager attention. the distance made it difficult to identify them. some thought they were ponies. white otter and sun bird disagreed with them. "he-ha-ka, elk," said the sioux. "yes, yes, it is true," agreed running crow. the animals were moving slowly along the ridge. their appearance convinced the cheyennes that the ridge was free of foes. they believed that the kiowa scouts had returned to the village. "the way is clear--it is good," said running crow. "perhaps they are watching close to the camp," white otter told him. then he called sun bird and little raven into the ravine. "my brothers, i have some words for you," he said. "pretty soon the day will pass away. i have been watching for our people. now i do not believe they will come in time to help us. perhaps the cheyennes took a long time to go to our camp. well, we cannot wait. we must go ahead with what we came to do. red dog is our friend. we must try to help him. i am about to do a big thing. i will ask you to help me. there will be great danger. perhaps we will be killed. you are dacotahs. you are brave. i know you are not afraid to die." "white otter, i will go with you," said sun bird. "yes, my brother, i will go," little raven told him. "it is good," declared white otter. "now i will tell the cheyennes about it." he asked running crow to summon his tribesmen. they hurried into the ravine, and assembled before the ogalala. "my brothers, i have called you here to tell you what i propose to do," said white otter. "the day has almost gone. night is close by. we must get ready. "listen to my words. when we go to fight the kiowas it would be foolish for all of us to go together. if we do that, the scouts will find out about it and tell their people. then red dog will be killed before we get to the camp. there is only one way to do this thing. we must make three war parties. now i will tell you about it. i am going to make running crow a leader. he must take some warriors and go away first. running crow and his brothers must circle far around and come up on the other side of the camp. i am going to make standing bull a leader. he must take some warriors and go away next. standing bull and his brothers must circle around and come up on the side where the ponies are. i am going to make painted weasel a leader. he must take some warriors and go away last. painted weasel and his brothers must ride straight ahead to the camp. all of you must send scouts ahead to watch for the kiowas. you must watch sharp. if you let them find you we cannot help red dog. when you all get close enough to shoot an arrow into the camp, you must wait. when painted weasel is ready he must make the cry of ma-ya-sh, the wolf. then painted weasel and standing bull must lead their brothers ahead. you must make a big noise. standing bull and his brothers must run off the ponies. painted weasel and his brothers must go to the camp. "now, running crow, listen sharp. when you hear that noise you must bring your brothers to the other side of the camp. do not make any noise until you are close. then rush ahead. "while you are all doing these things, sun bird and little raven will go with me into the camp. we will try to save red dog and lead away the war ponies. you must come fast, my brothers, or the kiowas will kill us. each of you must do as i have told you to do. now, my brothers, i will ask you how you feel about it. "white otter, you have given us great words," declared running crow. "i believe you have told us how to fool the kiowas. you have asked me to be a leader. it is good. i will keep your words. yes, my brother, i will do as you have told me to do." "it is good," said white otter. "my brother, you are a great war leader," said painted weasel. "if we do as you tell us to do, i believe we will save red dog and run off many ponies. i will keep your words. i will lead my brothers close up to the camp. we will make a big fight. we will try hard to help you." "it is good," white otter told him. "great chief of the ogalalas, i have listened to your words," said standing bull. "they are good. i believe it is the only way to do this thing. i will keep your words. i will lead my brothers to run off the ponies." "it is good," said white otter. "well, my brothers, i see that you all feel good about this thing. it makes me feel big." having learned the plan of attack, the cheyennes looked forward to the fight with enthusiasm. they crept up the ravine and watched impatiently for the day to pass. they glared fiercely into the east, and murmured boastful threats against the hated foes in the distant camp. "hi, hi, pretty soon we will show the kiowas how to fight," they cried, savagely. when the purple evening shadows finally settled upon the plain, the war leaders called the warriors into the ravine, and began to select the men who were to accompany them. the cheyennes watched with intense interest as running crow and painted weasel and standing bull went about making their selections. all were famous warriors who commanded the respect and admiration of their tribesmen, and the latter had little preference between them. then white otter suddenly called running crow. "running crow, i believe painted weasel and his brothers will have the biggest fight," he said. "the kiowas will run out that way when they hear the noise. painted weasel must take the most warriors. you will also have a big fight, because you must rush into the camp. you must take many warriors. standing bull will run off the ponies. i do not believe he will get into the fight. standing bull must not take so many warriors." "it is true," agreed running crow. "i have told my brothers about it. painted weasel is calling the most warriors. standing bull has called only a few." "it is good," said white otter. when the selections had finally been made, each war leader made a short, fiery address to his warriors. their words roused the fighting spirit of the cheyennes. they made it plain that they hoped to wipe out the sting of their recent defeat and take full vengeance upon the kiowas. "my people are very mad," running crow told white otter. "they will make a big fight." darkness had already fallen, and white otter determined to reconnoiter the plain before the first war party left the ravine. he sent white horse and red crane and fighting wolf and sitting bear to look for the kiowas. white horse and red crane advanced toward the distant ridge. sitting bear circled toward the north. fighting wolf rode toward the south. the cheyennes waited anxiously for them to return. sitting bear came first. he said he had ridden far out over the plain but had heard or seen nothing of their foes. then fighting wolf rode in. he, too, declared that he had failed to find the kiowas. it was a long time before white horse and red crane arrived. they said they had searched carefully along the ridge, but had failed to locate their enemies. "it is good," said white otter. "now we are ready to go ahead. come, running crow, call your warriors." when running crow and his companions were ready to depart, white otter addressed them. "my brothers, you are going into great danger," he warned them. "perhaps you will have a hard fight. running crow is a good war leader. he will take you into the kiowa camp. then you must try to save your chief. when you get away come here and wait for your brothers. do what i have told you to do. do not try to do anything different. go, my brothers, red dog is waiting for you." "white otter, we will keep your words," running crow told him. "when we hear that great noise we will rush ahead." "it is good," said white otter. they rode silently from the ravine, and cantered away toward the south. white otter listened soberly as the hoofbeats of the ponies gradually died away. he knew that they were staking their lives on his ability as a war leader. he realized his responsibility. failure meant death for red dog, disaster for the cheyennes, and disgrace for him. he drove the thought from his mind. "i will do this thing," he murmured, fiercely. standing bull and his warriors were impatient, and eager to depart. white otter held them back. he waited until he believed that running crow and his companions were well on their way before he finally sent away the second war party. "standing bull, you must run off the ponies," said white otter. "there are only a few of you. do not try to get into the fight. keep the ponies going. make a big noise." "i will do as you tell me," replied standing bull. after they had gone, white otter called painted weasel. "painted weasel, you are a brave scout and a good war leader," white otter told him. "i have seen you fight the pawnees. i have seen you fight the kiowas. i know you are brave. that is why i made you the leader of this war party. you will have the hardest fight of all. you must follow us to the kiowa camp. you must wait close by until we have time to get into the camp. then you must give the cry of ma-ya-sh, the wolf, and rush ahead. make a great noise. try to frighten the kiowas. perhaps you will find us at the edge of the camp. perhaps the kiowas will hold us in the village. you must try to help us carry off red dog." "white otter, you are my friend," replied painted weasel. "i have seen you do some big things. all of these warriors know about you. they will be very brave because you are here. i will keep your words. we will fight hard to get red dog out of the camp." "it is good," said white otter. "come, my brothers, we will go." they mounted the ponies and rode from the ravine. then they cantered slowly across the plain. white otter and painted weasel rode in front. sun bird and little raven followed close behind them. then came the gallant cheyenne fighting men. they rode along in grim silence. when they had crossed the second ridge, white otter stopped them. "now, my brothers, we must leave you and go ahead," he told painted weasel. "hold back until we have time to reach the camp. then go ahead. be cautious. now send some one with us to hold the ponies." two young cheyennes rode forward to join the sioux. then white otter led his little company toward the kiowa camp. they soon saw the camp-fires flickering between the trees. when they drew nearer they suddenly heard sounds which aroused their fears. the kiowas were shouting and beating the war drums. white otter listened uneasily. "it is bad," he said. "the kiowas are dancing and singing the war songs. red dog is in danger. there is little time." they rode faster. when they finally came within bowshot of the camp, white otter stopped and dismounted. sun bird and little raven also dismounted. then they left their ponies with the cheyennes, and hurried away. they kept farther to the southward than they had gone the previous night, for white otter was anxious to conceal himself nearer the center of the village. "now, my brothers, i will tell you what to do," he said, softly. "when we get to the edge of the camp, we will look for red dog. then we will look for the war ponies. i will ask sun bird to go with me to help red dog. i will ask little raven to creep into the camp and lead out the ponies. now we will go ahead." the plain was shrouded in darkness, and they crept to the border of the camp without being discovered. then they looked upon their foes. the kiowas were seated about a great fire in the center of the village. they had ceased dancing, and were listening to a warrior who appeared to be relating some thrilling experience. the sioux felt sure that he was describing the battle at the cheyenne camp. they took little interest in him, for their one thought was to discover red dog. he was not in sight. they felt relieved. they were within a few bow lengths of the lodge into which he had been taken the previous night. in the meantime, little raven had discovered the dacotah ponies. they were tied before a lodge, a short distance on his left. he touched white otter and pointed toward them. white otter nodded understandingly. little raven crawled away into the darkness. a moment afterward the kiowa finished his boastful tale, and received a noisy ovation from his people. the sioux smiled. then another warrior rushed into the circle and drove his tomahawk into a painted post near the fire. the sioux were familiar with the ceremony. they knew that the kiowa claimed a coup for some daring feat which he had performed in the fight with the cheyennes, and was about to tell his tribesmen of his valor. as the speaker drew the attention of the kiowas, white otter seized the opportunity to creep closer to the lodge in which he hoped to find red dog. when he was within a bow length of it, he stopped and placed his lips to the ear of sun bird. "i believe red dog is in this lodge," he whispered. "i am going to creep up behind it. follow me." they crawled cautiously forward until they were at the rear of the lodge. then white otter placed his ear at the bottom of the lodge cover, and held his breath to listen. all was still. he signaled to sun bird. he, too, lay close to the ground and listened. in a few moments he shook his head. he had heard nothing. they believed that red dog was alone in the lodge. the thought filled them with joy. the warrior was still telling his boastful tale. the kiowas were silent. the sioux believed their opportunity was at hand. they drew their knives and began to cut the lodge cover from the stakes which held it to the ground. then they were suddenly interrupted by the shrill neighing of a pony somewhere at the other end of the camp. the warrior ceased speaking. the kiowas cried out excitedly. the sioux turned to each other in dismay. "run around the other side of the lodge!" cried white otter. they separated and circled the lodge. two warriors were coming out with red dog between them. the sioux shot their arrows, and the kiowas fell. before the people in the camp realized what had happened, white otter had reached the cheyenne chief and freed his arms. then he drew him toward the edge of the camp. the kiowas rushed forward. sun bird fought desperately to hold them back. then the cry of ma-ya-sh sounded from the plain. the kiowas stopped in alarm. a moment afterward the night rang with a wild din that filled their hearts with terror. they heard their foes advancing on three sides of the camp. for an instant they crowded together in panic. then the warriors ran for the ponies. they heard them thundering across the plain. they saw a dim, shadowy form dash into the camp and disappear with the sioux war ponies. then they heard the cheyennes yelling at the edge of the village. the kiowas rushed forward to drive them out. at that instant another company of horsemen entered from the opposite side of the camp. the kiowas became demoralized and fled wildly before their foes. the cheyennes swept into the camp. "come, my brothers, here are the ponies," cried little raven, as he joined his comrades at the border of the village. the three warriors who had waited with the ponies had already come forward. red dog mounted and raced away to lead his warriors. the sioux followed close behind him. the kiowas had abandoned the camp, and were fleeing across the plain. the cheyenne victory was complete. they had overcome their foes without losing a man. chapter xvii disaster when the cheyennes finally returned to the ravine they found standing bull and his companions awaiting them with a great herd of ponies. among them were the fast war ponies which the cheyennes had liberated from a corral at the end of the kiowa camp. "white otter, we have done what you asked us to do," said standing bull. "you are a good leader," white otter told him. "see, my brothers, we have brought back your chief." "hi, hi, here is red dog!" standing bull cried, delightedly. it was the signal for a great ovation to the cheyenne chief. his warriors gathered about him with wild enthusiasm. their piercing yells echoed shrilly across the plain, and put new terror into the hearts of the fleeing kiowas. then the guards with the ponies called out and warned the cheyennes that the frightened animals were threatening to stampede. "be quiet, be quiet!" shouted running crow, "you have frightened the ponies." the cheyennes heeded the warning and became quiet. a few moments afterward red dog addressed them. "my brothers, first i will tell you about these brave dacotahs," he said. "when the kiowas came to kill me, the dacotahs shot their arrows through them, and gave me my life. then white otter pulled me away. sun bird fought back the kiowas. little raven took away the dacotah ponies. it was a great thing to do. dacotahs, my heart feels big. you saved me from the pawnees. now you have saved me from the kiowas. my people will talk about it a long time. "now, cheyennes, here are some words for you. you were very brave. you came to that camp and fooled the kiowas. you chased them out of their lodges. you made them run like rabbits. the kiowas killed our people, but you killed many kiowas. the kiowas took our ponies, but you got them back, and took away many kiowa ponies. now we feel different in our hearts." "red dog, i will tell you who brought your people to that camp to help you," said running crow. "white otter brought them. he was the leader. he told us how to fool the kiowas." "white otter is a great chief," replied red dog. "white otter, my people want you to give them some words," said running crow. "cheyennes, you have done a big thing," white otter told them. "you were very brave. running crow, and painted weasel and standing bull are good war leaders. all of them did what they set out to do. that is how your chief, red dog, happens to be alive. cheyennes, i will tell you that my brother, sun bird, was very brave. he fought back many kiowas, while i was helping red dog. cheyennes, i will tell you that my brother, little raven, was very brave. he crawled into the kiowa camp and led out our ponies. hi, my brothers, we feel good to get back those ponies. now red dog has come back to you. he must be the leader. i have finished." the cheyennes remained at the ravine until daylight, and then as they saw nothing of the kiowas they set out toward the north. they rode away in buoyant spirits, laughing, and shouting and singing the war songs. as usual, scouts rode ahead and along either flank. the warriors rode in pairs with red dog and white otter in the lead. the men in charge of the ponies followed close behind the war party. the cheyennes had little fear of pursuit, for they had thoroughly demoralized the kiowas and taken away most of their ponies. "they will not follow us," laughed red dog. although they felt secure from the kiowas, the cheyennes realized that there was a possibility of encountering the pawnees. having found them upon their hunting grounds, they felt quite certain that the pawnees would keep a close watch. they believed, however, that the latter were farther toward the west, and they hoped to avoid them. "we will watch out," said red dog. the warriors in charge of the captured ponies were having considerable difficulty in holding them together, and the war party was forced to travel slowly. it disturbed them, for they were eager to withdraw from the pawnee hunting grounds as soon as possible. they knew that the pawnees were constantly moving about the plain, and they feared that some sharp-eyed scout might discover them. in that event they felt quite certain that the large herd of ponies would tempt the pawnees to make an attack. half of the day had passed before they discovered anything to make them suspicious. then they saw one of the scouts racing toward them. they stopped to wait for him. "it is turns around," said red dog. "i believe he has found something bad." in a few moments turns around reached them. he rode directly to red dog. they talked earnestly. then red dog called out to the cheyennes. they looked anxiously toward the west. "turns around says he saw a warrior over there," red dog told white otter. "he says he believes the warrior was a pawnee. he says he believes the warrior saw him. he came back to tell us about it." "it is bad," white otter said, soberly. "if that warrior saw turns around, perhaps he will follow him and see us." "it is true," replied red dog. "well, we must keep going ahead. we cannot travel fast. we must keep with the ponies. they are holding us back. it is bad. i will feel good when we get away from this place. now i am going to send turns around, and sitting bear over there to watch." "perhaps that scout will circle around and get behind us," suggested white otter. "yes, i am thinking about that," said red dog. "i will send black beaver, and fighting wolf back there to watch." red dog told his plans to the cheyennes. the scouts immediately rode away. at the same time the war party continued toward the north. red dog sent a number of warriors to assist in keeping the ponies in order. then the cheyennes attempted to make better speed. "perhaps that warrior is a hunter," red dog told white otter, hopefully. "if he is a hunter i do not believe he will try to follow us." white otter was silent. the discovery of the solitary rider had made him suspicious. having encountered the strong force of pawnees farther to the westward, he feared that they were still roaming about the plain. if one of their scouts came in sight of the cheyennes, he believed there would be a fight. he realized that it would be difficult to escape without abandoning the ponies, and he knew that the cheyennes would be unwilling to make that sacrifice. they heard nothing further from the scouts until late in the day, and then black beaver overtook them. his announcement caused considerable excitement. white otter believed that the cheyennes were alarmed. red dog had left him, and was talking seriously with running crow. "my brother, i believe the scouts have seen the pawnees," sun bird told white otter. "something bad has happened," said white otter. then red dog galloped up beside him. he appeared uneasy and troubled. the sioux asked no questions. in a few moments, however, red dog told them what black beaver had said. "black beaver says he saw three wolves peeping over the top of some rocks," said red dog. "he says they did not look right. he asked fighting wolf about it. fighting wolf said they did not look right. then they went away. our brothers rode ahead. they kept looking back. they did not see anything. then they rode over a little hill. then fighting wolf held the ponies, and black beaver ran back to watch. he peeped over the hill, and saw two warriors riding away toward the place-where-the-sun-sleeps. then he saw a wolf peeping over the rocks. then fighting wolf stayed there to watch, and black beaver came to tell us about it. my brothers, it is bad. i believe the pawnees have found out about us. come, white otter, you are a great war leader, tell me what you make of it." "it looks bad," white otter told him. "i believe what you say is true. i believe the pawnees know about us." "well, if they know about us, they will bring a big war party to run off these ponies," declared red dog. "i do not believe those scouts know about the ponies," said sun bird. "perhaps they are only trying to find out who we are. we are going away. perhaps they will not try to follow us." "i believe they will follow us," declared white otter. "well, there is only one thing to do," red dog told them. "we must get away as fast as we can. we are not afraid of those pawnees, but we must not lose the ponies." "those are good words," said white otter. fearful that they were being followed, the cheyennes surrounded the ponies and lashed them into a sharp gallop. it was impossible to hold them together. they soon scattered, and some broke from the herd and raced wildly across the plain. the cheyennes rode furiously to turn them back. "it is useless," they cried. "we cannot run them so fast." black beaver had already turned back to join fighting wolf. the day was far gone, and the cheyennes believed that if they could avoid an encounter before dark, they might be able to throw the pawnees from their trail under cover of the night. the thought encouraged them. they ran the ponies at a brisk pace, and kept a sharp watch behind them. then they saw turns around and sitting bear approaching from the west. when they reached the war party they told red dog that they had seen nothing more of the solitary rider. "it is good," said red dog. "perhaps it was a hunter. i believe he has gone away." at that moment, however, the cheyennes heard shouts behind them. looking back in alarm, they saw black beaver and fighting wolf racing after them. they were lashing their ponies and riding at a furious pace. "watch out, i believe the pawnees are close behind them!" cried red dog. "run the ponies! run the ponies!" cried the scouts. "many pawnees are coming!" the two riders had barely reached them when the cheyennes saw a great company of horsemen ride over a hill. they knew at once that they were pawnees. when the latter discovered the herd of ponies they began yelling excitedly. they raced across the plain at break-neck speed, and the cheyennes realized that they would soon be overtaken. "come, we will ride back there and fight them off," proposed several young warriors. "no, no," cried red dog. "stay where you are. we must keep together and try to hold the ponies. keep them running. stay on all sides of them. do not fight until the pawnees try to rush in. perhaps they will be afraid to come close." the pawnees were gaining with each stride of the ponies, and the cheyennes knew it was hopeless to attempt to escape. aware that an encounter was inevitable, they had surrounded the ponies, and were prepared to fight off their foes. the sioux rode together at the head of the herd. "it looks bad," said sun bird. "the cheyennes made a big fight to get these ponies, but i believe the pawnees will run them off." "we must fight them back," white otter told him. "see, see, they are trying to get ahead of us," cried little raven. the pawnees had suddenly separated, and were moving forward along the flank of the war party. the cheyennes instantly guessed their plan. "they are going to ride around and close us in!" cried red dog. "come, stop the ponies, and make a circle!" they made desperate attempts to stop the ponies, but the wild yells of the pawnees had frightened them into a panic and they were beyond control. they were running madly, but the pawnees were passing on both sides of them. another company of foes were closing in from the rear. the cheyennes at the rear of the herd turned about and drove them back with a fierce volley of arrows. then the pawnees who had passed began to close in ahead of them. the cheyennes saw the danger. "come, cheyennes, follow me!" cried white otter. he raced forward, and a number of cheyennes left the ponies and followed him. sun bird and little raven rode close beside him. white otter raised his voice in the war cry and rode straight at his foes. his reckless courage roused his companions, and they charged savagely upon the surprised pawnees and swept them from the path. "follow the sioux! follow the sioux!" cried red dog. the cheyennes lashed the ponies into a wild burst of speed. the pawnees began to shoot their arrows. they charged within short bow-range and made a furious attack upon the riders along the edge of the herd. a number of cheyennes fell from their ponies. their companions instantly closed the gap, and drove the riderless ponies into the herd. then they sent a deadly shower of arrows against their foes. the pawnees dropped behind their ponies for protection, but the cheyennes brought many of the ponies to the plain. "yes, yes, kill the pawnee ponies!" cried running crow. at that moment, however, the entire company of pawnees charged recklessly upon the herd. the cheyennes fought valiantly, but they were greatly outnumbered, and the pawnees soon broke through them. once past the guards they rode wildly into the herd, yelling and waving their arms. the terrorized ponies scattered like a covey of frightened grouse, and fled across the plain. the pawnees raced after them. "come, we must catch them!" running crow cried, fiercely. "wait," shouted red dog. "the pawnees are too strong for us. they are near their camp. if we follow them many more warriors may come to help them. it is useless to throw away our lives. if we let the pawnees kill us, what will become of our people? we must hold back. we are not strong enough to fight them." "red dog, your words are good," declared white otter. "it is useless to throw yourselves away." chapter xviii reËnforcements the cheyennes were disheartened by the loss of the ponies. they rode across the plain in gloomy silence. having rallied from the catastrophe which had fallen upon their village, they were completely disheartened by the fresh disaster which had overtaken them. "it is bad," said running crow. "the evil ones must be working against us." the credulous cheyennes were impressed by the thought. it deepened their gloom, and filled them with superstitious dread. their recent misfortunes suddenly assumed a new significance. they believed that they had aroused the displeasure of the evil ones. the idea startled them. they feared that still greater calamities might befall them. as the disastrous day finally came to its end, they approached a familiar camp site beside a large pool on the open plain. it was the only water within a half day's travel, and as the plain offered splendid pasturage for the ponies red dog determined to stop. some of the warriors were eager to pass by, and continue the retreat from the pawnee hunting grounds. "no, it would be foolish," red dog told them. "we must stop here and rest the ponies." the cheyennes slid dejectedly from the ponies, and threw themselves upon the ground. they held the lariats, and watched indifferently while the ponies grazed. there was little talk. their hearts were heavy. their spirits were crushed. a splendid victory had ended in a bitter defeat. a number of their comrades had been killed. the cheyennes felt subdued. "our brothers feel bad," little raven said, softly. "bad things have happened to them," declared sun bird. white otter made no comment. he, too, was serious and depressed. he had expected a war party of his people to come to the aid of the cheyennes. he was at a loss to explain why they had failed to appear. having assured the cheyennes that the ogalalas would help them, he feared that they might doubt the sincerity of his pledge. the thought troubled him. he felt sure that if his tribesmen had joined the war party, the pawnees would have been beaten off. "my people did not come," he told sun bird. "it is bad. i do not know what to make of it." "perhaps the cheyennes took a long time to go to your village," said sun bird. "there were many women and children. they held back the warriors." "many suns have passed," white otter reminded him. they became silent. for a long time they sat watching the plain. white otter looked hopefully toward the north. he knew that the pawnees were two full days' travel from their village, and they would be forced to travel slowly with the great herd of ponies. if the ogalalas should appear before the night passed he believed they might still overtake the pawnees and recover the ponies. the possibility thrilled him. then, as darkness finally came, the great hope died from his heart. "my brothers, night has come," red dog told his warriors. "i do not believe the pawnees will turn back to find us, but we must watch out. we are in the country of our enemies. i will ask some of you to ride out on the plain and watch." "i will go," white otter said, eagerly. "white otter, you are a great chief," red dog told him. "you have done big things to help us. you must lie down and rest. my young men will watch." "no, no, i will watch," insisted white otter. "perhaps something good will come of it. red dog, you must listen to my words." "i will not talk against it," said red dog. "i will go," replied white otter. "i will go with you," said sun bird. "no, my brother, i must go alone," white otter told him. a few moments later four scouts left the company, and disappeared into the night. one was white otter. he rode away toward the north. "i believe white otter has gone to watch for his people," little raven told sun bird. "it may be true," said sun bird. once beyond hearing of the cheyennes, white otter struck the piebald with his riding quirt, and the wonderful creature bounded away at marvelous speed. he rode far into the north before he finally came in sight of a dense cluster of trees. they were several arrow flights away. he stopped the piebald, and listened sharply. all was still. "it is bad," white otter murmured. he rode slowly toward the timber. then the piebald suddenly stopped and raised its head. white otter peered eagerly into the darkness. a moment later a pony called. it was within bowshot. white otter drew his arrows, and waited in trying suspense. the piebald was restless. he believed that some one was approaching. then he heard voices. they were close by. he imitated the bark of the little gray fox. the sounds subsided. he listened anxiously. many moments passed. hope gave way to suspicion. had he betrayed himself to his foes? the possibility startled him. then he heard an answer to his signal. the bark of the little gray fox sounded a short distance ahead of him. his eyes flashed. his heart bounded with joy. "ho, dacotahs," he cried, eagerly. "ho, my brother, come ahead," some one replied. "my ears tell me who you are, but i must be cautious," said white otter. "come, ogalala, tell me your name." "black moccasin," said the voice. "it is good," cried white otter. he rode forward, and met the famous ogalala scout. they cantered toward the trees. "have you fought the kiowas?" black moccasin inquired, anxiously. "yes, we went to their village and took away red dog and many ponies," white otter told him. "well, we came fast, but i see that we did not get here in time to help you," said black moccasin. "my brother, you must help us fight the pawnees," replied white otter. "the pawnees came up with us and ran off the ponies that we took away from the kiowas. that is why i came to find you." "hi, hi, that is bad," said black moccasin. at that moment some one challenged them. "it is good, my brother," cried black moccasin. "white otter is here." "ride ahead," the scout told them. they advanced and met hollow bear, another noted ogalala warrior. he accompanied them to the grove. white otter was overjoyed to find a great company of ogalalas assembled at the campsite. with them were the five cheyenne scouts who had accompanied the women and children to the ogalala camp, and the company of warriors who had escaped from the cheyenne village. white otter was welcomed with enthusiasm. "my brothers, i have found you--it is good," he said. "there is little time to talk. first i will tell these brave cheyennes that red dog is alive. we took him away from the kiowas. we also ran off many ponies. come, cloud eagle, you know my words, tell your brothers about it." the cheyennes were wild with joy. it was some moments before white otter could proceed with his talk. "now, cheyennes, i will tell you something bad," he said, finally. "we were driving away those ponies. everything was good. then the pawnees came. they were very strong. they caught up with us and ran off those ponies. we could not stop them. "ogalalas, we must ride after those pawnees and try to get back those ponies. the pawnees are not far ahead of us. i believe they stopped when it got dark. their village is two sun's travel away. they cannot travel fast. i believe we can come up with them. i will lead you. come, jump on your ponies, and follow me." the warriors ran to untie the ponies. a few moments afterward they followed their famous young war chief across the plain. it was a great war party. wolf robe, the venerable ogalala chief, had sent his best fighters to aid the cheyennes. white otter thrilled at the thought of leading them against the pawnees. "white otter, how did you come to find us?" black moccasin asked curiously. "i knew about that place--it is a good place to stop," white otter told him. "when red dog stopped over there by the water i kept watching to see you. you did not come. i felt bad. then it got dark. then i said, 'perhaps my brothers are close by.' then i thought about that place. i said, 'perhaps my brothers are waiting there until it gets light.' then i came ahead to find out about it." "are the cheyennes far away?" black moccasin asked him. "no, we will soon find them," said white otter. he led the way at a fast pace, for he was eager to set out on the trail of the pawnees without further delay. when they finally approached the spot where he had left the cheyennes, white otter raced forward in advance of the war party. "watch out, some one is riding fast!" the cheyennes cried in alarm, as they heard a pony galloping toward them from the north. "it must be white otter," said red dog. "perhaps he has found out about something." they sprang to their feet, and waited anxiously for the rider. as he came within bowshot, they began to call. "who are you?" they inquired, suspiciously. "do not be afraid, everything is good," cried white otter. "yes, yes, it is white otter," the cheyennes told one another. a few moments afterward the ogalala joined them. they gathered around him to learn what had happened. "listen!" he cried. "do you hear those ponies? they are bringing my people. cheyennes, my words have come true. the ogalalas are coming to help you." they heard the hoofbeats of many ponies. the sound filled them with joy. a great hope entered their hearts. "it is the ogalalas! it is the ogalalas!" they cried, excitedly. then the great sioux war party dashed out of the night. their arrival threw the cheyennes into a tumult. for a moment all was confusion. then white otter took command, and restored order. "come, come, my brothers, we are making too much noise," he said, sharply. the great company of fighting men instantly became quiet. they dismounted and waited for instructions from their chief. "cheyennes, my people have come here to fight," white otter said, proudly. "we will ride after the pawnees. we will bring back those ponies. a dacotah does not turn back. we will do what we set out to do. cheyennes are you ready to go into this fight?" "yes, yes, we are ready!" shouted the cheyennes. "it is good," declared white otter. "wait, ogalalas, i will give you some words," said red dog. "i have talked with cloud eagle and two dogs and walks alone and hairy robe and lame bear. those warriors took our women and children to your village. they gave me good words. now i know that our people are safe in your lodges. now i know that they will have plenty to eat and a good place to sleep in. now i know that our people will stay with you until we fight the pawnees and bring back the ponies. it is good. ogalalas, you have good hearts for your friends. the cheyennes feel good about it. we will always try to help you. "ogalalas, your great chief, wolf robe, is too old to fight, but he has sent you here to help us. it is good. now we are strong enough to fight the pawnees. white otter says that a dacotah does not turn back. it is true. the dacotahs are very brave. well, the cheyennes will keep close beside you. "ogalalas, white otter, your chief, is a great leader. he took me away from the kiowas. he was the leader. he told my people how to get into that camp. we did what he told us to do. everything was good. all my people came out of that fight. it is something to talk about. cheyennes--ogalalas--listen to my words. i am going to ask white otter to be the leader of this great war party. he is as brave as ma-to-ho-ta, the bear. he is as sharp as to-ka-la, the fox. he fooled the kiowas. i believe he will fool the pawnees. if white otter is the leader, i believe we will get back those ponies. now you all know how i feel about it." his proposal was approved by the entire company. the cheyennes believed that the young war chief of the ogalalas possessed some mysterious power which made him immune from peril, and enabled him to triumph over his foes. they believed that his leadership greatly increased their chances for a victory over the pawnees. the ogalalas were equally certain of success. "i will be the leader," said white otter. "now we must get away. pretty soon the light will come. there is little time. come, red dog, send some one to call in the scouts. then we will ride away." red dog sent several riders to find the three cheyenne scouts who were watching on the plain. then the cheyennes gathered about the warriors who had escaped from the cheyenne camp to learn the details of the disastrous battle with the kiowas. it was not long, however, before they were interrupted by the arrival of the scouts. they said that they had watched carefully but had heard nothing of their foes. "it is good," said white otter. "come, my brothers, get on your ponies. we will go to fight the pawnees." chapter xix the pawnees at bay aware that each moment was precious, white otter rode through the night at a desperate pace. behind him thundered the great war party of sioux and cheyennes. beside him rode red dog, the cheyenne chief, and black moccasin, the famous ogalala scout. convinced that they would see nothing of the pawnees until they finally came up with them, white otter saw little need for caution. he believed that the pawnees had stopped for the night, to rest the ponies, and he was eager to cover as much distance as possible before daylight. the ogalalas were enthusiastic at the idea of an encounter with their old-time enemies, the pawnees. they knew from experience that the hated "wolf people" were brave and stubborn fighters, but they felt confident of victory. they followed gayly after their leader, talking, and laughing and chanting their war songs. behind them came the cheyennes. their gloom had vanished. their confidence was restored. the warriors who had returned with the ogalalas had greatly strengthened their numbers, and with the formidable dacotahs for allies they believed that success was assured. "pretty soon it will be light," said white otter. "then we will send scouts to find the tracks of the ponies. we will follow them until we come up with the pawnees." "while the foolish pawnees are sleeping, we are rushing closer," laughed red dog. "perhaps they kept going ahead," said black moccasin. "perhaps they were afraid some one would follow them." "no, i do not believe it," declared red dog. "they saw that we were not strong enough to fight them. they do not expect any one to follow them." "they cannot keep running those ponies," white otter told them. "they must stop to rest." at dawn white otter became more cautious. he stopped the war party and made known his plans. "the light has come, we must look for the pawnees," he said. "i am going to send out some scouts to find the tracks of those ponies. i will send sun bird, and little raven, and high eagle. now, red dog, you must send three of your people with my brothers." "it is good," said red dog. "i will send running crow, and painted weasel and standing bull." "now, my brothers, i will tell you what to do," said white otter. "i will ask sun bird and little raven to go ahead. i will ask the rest of you to ride out on both sides of us. look hard until you find the tracks of those ponies. i believe they are close by. if you find them, make the signal. we will keep watching. if we find those tracks, we will make the signal. perhaps scouts are watching on the high places. look out for them." the six scouts went away. then the war party rode ahead. eager to prevent the pawnees from increasing their lead, they rode at a stiff pace. it was not long before they saw standing bull riding rapidly in a circle, some distance to the westward. "it is good," said white otter. "standing bull has found the tracks. we will go over there." standing bull and painted weasel had found the trail of the pawnees. a close examination of the tracks convinced white otter that the pawnees were traveling at a moderate pace. "they made those tracks before the last sun went away," he said. "it is true," agreed black moccasin. "call the scouts," said white otter. "then we will go ahead, and find out where the pawnees stopped." they saw one of the scouts approaching from the east. the fact that he was alone made them suspicious. they believed that his companion had remained to watch something. as the rider came nearer they saw that it was high eagle, the ogalala. "we saw some people far away toward the place-where-the-day-begins," said high eagle. "three were on ponies. they rode ahead. four were on foot." "which way are they going?" inquired white otter. "they are going straight ahead--the same way we are going," high eagle told him. "they are far away. running crow is watching them." "i believe those people are kiowas," said white otter. "we chased them far away. now they are going back to their village. we will not think about them." "yes, yes, it must be the kiowas," laughed red dog. "high eagle, we have found the tracks of the pawnees," said white otter. "we are going to follow them. go back there and bring running crow." when they learned that the scouts had discovered a small company of kiowas, some of the cheyennes were eager to ride away in pursuit of them. white otter immediately objected. he realized that the maneuver would cause delay and confusion, and might betray them to the pawnees. "no, you must not go over there," he said. "you must keep going ahead to catch the pawnees. if you hold back they will get to their village. then it will be hard to run off the ponies. i am the leader. you must do as i tell you." red dog repeated the message to the cheyennes, and they dismissed the kiowas from their thoughts. they knew that white otter and his warriors were risking their lives to help them, and they were eager to obey his commands. then they saw high eagle and running crow riding to join them. sun bird and little raven, however, had failed to appear. white otter felt little fear for their safety. he believed that they were scouting carefully in advance of the war party in an effort to locate the pawnees. "pretty soon they will come," he told red dog. a few moments afterward they rode over a low ridge, and saw the two minneconjoux scouts. they were waiting at a grove of cottonwoods. the war party raced forward to join them. "here is the place where the pawnees stopped," said sun bird, as white otter approached. "yes, i see where the ponies were feeding," replied white otter. he believed that the pawnees had remained at the spot until daylight. in that event he realized that they could not be very far ahead of him. he hoped to come in sight of them before the end of the day. "we must go on," said white otter. they galloped away on the trail. it led directly toward the south. as they advanced the plain became rough and broken, and there were many low knolls and ridges. white otter realized that it offered splendid protection to hostile scouts, and he became more cautious. "come, sun bird, ride ahead and keep watching the high places," he said. "i will ask little raven to go with you. follow the tracks of the ponies. we will ride behind you." the minneconjoux galloped away. the war party rode easily until the scouts were a long way ahead. then they again raced their ponies at high speed in the hope of soon overtaking the pawnees. as the day advanced and they failed to see anything of their foes, some of the warriors feared that they would be unable to overtake them before they reached the great pawnee camp. the thought discouraged them. white otter, however, was still hopeful of coming up with them. he felt sure that he was steadily gaining upon them, and he expected to see them before the end of the day. red dog, too, was confident that they would come in contact with the pawnees before nightfall. "hi, hi, i believe our brothers have found them!" black moccasin cried, excitedly. the minneconjoux were riding in a circle on the top of a low hill. the war party rode toward them with high hopes. "what has happened?" white otter inquired, anxiously. "we saw two riders over there on that next hill," said sun bird. "they went away very fast. i believe they were pawnee scouts." "did they see you?" asked white otter. "yes," replied sun bird. "they must have been peeping over that high place. we looked sharp, but we could not see them. when we went up that hill we saw them riding away. they kept looking back. then we rode here to call you." "it is bad," said red dog. "they will tell their people about us. now it will be hard to catch them." "well, my brothers, there is no use of talking about it," declared white otter. "there is only one thing to do. we must rush ahead and try to catch the pawnees before they get away." "yes, that is the only thing to do," said black moccasin. they raced ahead at top speed. they had gone only a short distance when they saw a small company of horsemen sweep into view over a nearby rise of the plain. they stopped at sight of the war party. then they turned and raced toward the south. they appeared to have been thrown into a panic. white otter and his warriors rode after them with the fierce eagerness of wolves in sight of game. "those warriors came to find us, but they found something different," laughed little raven. "their people must be close by," declared white otter. the pawnees had disappeared behind the ridge. when the war party reached it, they saw them still riding furiously toward the south. they had lost considerable ground, however, and white otter felt encouraged. "we will come up with them," he told his companions. "yes, yes, we are closing in," said red dog. they heard the scouts whooping fiercely, and they believed that they were attempting to warn their tribesmen. then they discovered a great smother of dust rising in the distance. they realized that they had come in sight of the pawnees. "come, come, ride faster!" cried white otter. they forced the ponies into a terrific pace. they were steadily gaining upon the four scouts. the latter were making frantic efforts to escape. "pretty soon we will catch those riders," white otter declared, grimly. at that moment, however, the pawnee scouts turned toward the east. white otter instantly detected the clever ruse. "do not follow them," he cried. "they are trying to lead us off. keep after the ponies." then they swept over a rise of the plain, and saw the pawnees and the ponies directly ahead of them. they were a long distance away, however, and were riding desperately. they appeared to have the great herd of ponies under complete control, and white otter realized that the chase threatened to be a long one. "they are far ahead of us," he said, soberly. having actually sighted the pawnees, the war party was determined to overtake them. forcing the ponies to a killing pace, they began to gain upon their foes. stride by stride they overcame the lead of the pawnees until the latter were barely two arrow flights away. then the pawnees lashed the ponies into a furious sprint, and held off their pursuers. the wild race across the plain became a test of endurance between the rival ponies. both companies of riders knew that the gallant little beasts must eventually collapse, but each hoped that their foes would be the first to weaken. the ponies appeared to be well matched, however, and the exhausting chase continued. the pawnees were approaching a long, straggling line of trees that reached far across the plain. white otter knew that the timber marked the course of a stream. he rode wildly to overtake his foes before they reached it. once they crossed the water he realized that it would be difficult to reach them, and still more difficult to secure the ponies. his efforts were useless, however, for the pawnees held their lead. they were still safely beyond arrow range when they finally forced their gasping ponies across the stream, and came to a stand in the timber along the bank. white otter pulled up the sweating piebald. the long pursuit had come to an end. the pawnees had placed a formidable barrier between them and their foes. for the moment, at least, they were safe from attack. "now i know why they did not stop to fight," white otter said, bitterly. "they were trying to get to that place. now they are there. it is bad." "well, we made them stop," declared red dog. "yes, we kept them from getting to their camp," said black moccasin. "now we are close. they cannot get away. pretty soon we will go over there and run off the ponies." "my brother, that will be a hard thing to do," white otter told him. chapter xx a hard won victory white otter and his warriors approached within bowshot of the stream. then they sat upon their tired ponies, and stared silently across at the pawnees. the latter were in sight among the trees. they had driven the captured ponies from the timber, and were herding them upon the open plain. less than a third of the company guarded them. the rest of the pawnees were watching along the bank of the stream. "perhaps those warriors will try to hold us back while their friends get away with the ponies," red dog declared, suspiciously. "i believe that is what they propose to do," said black moccasin. "no, i do not believe it," white otter told them. "those ponies have come a long ways. they have run fast. the pawnees will let them rest. when it gets dark perhaps they will try to take them away." "i believe what white otter says is true," declared sun bird. the pawnees had gained the advantage. white otter realized that an attempt to cross the stream might result in heavy loss. he determined to wait until he had carefully studied the possibilities. both the ogalalas and the cheyennes, however, were eager to make an attack. the pawnees were jeering, and daring them to cross the stream. "hi, you dacotahs, are you afraid to follow us through the water?" some one called, mockingly. "you came here to help the cheyennes. why are you holding back? have we frightened you? go back to your lodges and sit with the old women. perhaps they will tell you how to fight." the taunt roused the ogalalas into a frenzy. they were wild with rage. some of them rode recklessly to the edge of the stream. many of the cheyennes followed them. white otter warned them against attempting to cross. "stop!" he cried. "the pawnees are trying to catch you. are you going to throw away your lives? the pawnees are like zi-ca, the squirrel. they make a big noise, but they hide behind the trees. they are trying to make you mad. if you ride into the water, they will kill you with their arrows. come, my brothers, turn back. shake the words of the pawnees from your ears." the ogalalas saw the wisdom of his words. they lingered a moment or so, shouting boastful threats against the pawnees. then they turned back. the cheyennes accompanied them. the pawnees laughed fiercely. a moment afterward a ringing shout sounded farther along the stream. the pawnee scouts had crossed, a long distance to the eastward. they were riding to join their tribesmen. "those pawnees feel very brave," laughed white otter. the day was passing, and white otter realized that he must decide upon a plan of action. he left high eagle and a small company of scouts to watch the pawnees, and then he led the war party beyond earshot of their foes. he called a council and asked running crow to act as interpreter. "my friends, we must find out the best way to run off those ponies," he said. "when it gets dark we must be ready to do something. now i will tell you how i feel about it. i believe the pawnees will try to send away those ponies. they will try to fool us. we must be sharp. i will tell you what i propose to do. if any of you feel different about it, you must talk against it. "now, my brothers, listen sharp. i believe there is only one way to get those ponies. when it gets dark we will send scouts along the water. they must follow along the water until they find a good place to go across. then they must go across, and watch the pawnees. if the pawnees try to run off the ponies, the scouts must make the signal. after those scouts go away we will make two war parties. our brothers, the cheyennes, will keep together. red dog will be the leader. my people will keep together. i will be the leader. one war party must stay here. one war party must go toward the place-where-the-day-begins. then that war party must circle around and cross over the water. those warriors must run off the ponies. the war party that stays here must go straight ahead to fight the pawnees. then we will be on two sides of them. now i have told you how i feel about it." "my brothers, you have heard the words of a great chief," said red dog. "white otter is the leader. i will do as he proposes to do. i believe it is good." "cheyennes, i believe white otter has told us the best way to fight the pawnees," said running crow. "my friends, white otter is a great war leader," declared black moccasin. "he has led his people in many battles. if we do as he tells us to do, i believe we will get back those ponies." many more warriors indorsed the plan of the ogalala chief. no one spoke against it. having led them to a splendid victory over the kiowas, the cheyennes felt confident that he would be equally successful against the pawnees. "well, my brothers, i see that there is no one to talk against this thing--we will go ahead with it," white otter told them. "now i will call out the names of the scouts who must go to watch the pawnees. i will call my brother hollow bear, and i will call standing bull. hollow bear is an ogalala. standing bull is a cheyenne. both of them are great warriors. now i will tell you about those war parties. i see that there are more ogalalas than cheyennes. the ogalalas must fight the pawnees. the cheyennes must try to get the ponies. come, red dog, tell me how you feel about it." "it is good," agreed red dog. having decided upon the plan of attack, the war party again approached the stream. high eagle and his companions said that the pawnees had made no attempt to leave the timber. white otter felt sure that they, too, were waiting to attempt some bold bit of stratagem under cover of the night. the thought made him suspicious, and watchful. he saw nothing which would give him a clew to the intentions of the pawnees. as the light slowly faded from the plain the pawnees began to sing their war songs and shout fierce threats against their enemies. the ogalalas and the cheyennes listened in silence. the threatening flash of their eyes, however, betrayed the wrath that blazed in their hearts. they waited for darkness, and the opportunity to rush upon their foes. in the meantime hollow bear and standing bull had ridden away on their perilous mission. they went a considerable distance toward the north before they finally turned to the eastward. then they made a wide detour and approached the stream. they waited a long time at the edge of the water, listening for sounds from their foes. as they heard nothing to alarm them, they rode cautiously into the stream. they reached the opposite side in safety, and moved out upon the plain. soon afterward red dog and his warriors arrived at the stream, an arrow flight from the place where the scouts had crossed. they, too, stopped to listen. all was quiet. the cheyennes, however, waited beside the water. they were listening for the signal which would warn them that the ogalalas had begun the fight. "my brothers, the scouts have gone," white otter told the ogalalas. "i believe they are across the water. red dog and his brothers have gone. i believe they are waiting for the signal. everything is ready. we must begin the fight. i will ask you to be brave. drive back the pawnees and get to the ponies. red dog and his warriors will come to help us. keep close around the ponies. drive them across the water. are you ready?" "hi, hi!" cried the ogalalas. "come!" shouted white otter. at that moment they heard the thunder of hoofbeats across the stream. a piercing shout rang through the night. it was a warning from the scouts. then the wild yells of the pawnees sounded from the edge of the water. the ogalalas realized what had happened. "they are running off the ponies!" cried white otter. "follow me!" the ogalalas raised the great dacotah war cry, and rode boldly into the stream. they heard red dog and the cheyennes farther to the eastward. the pawnees began to shoot their arrows. the sioux sent a volley into the timber. then they lashed their ponies forward, and charged recklessly upon their foes. the pawnees held their ground, and offered desperate resistance. the sioux, however, were thoroughly aroused, and they fought with a sullen ferocity that made them irresistible. the pawnees finally gave way, and raced across the plain in pursuit of the ponies. the ogalalas kept close behind them. they heard the cheyennes whooping fiercely, and they believed that they had overtaken the herd. "hi, hi, the cheyennes are making a big fight!" the dacotahs cried, excitedly. when they were within arrow range of the ponies, the pawnees turned and fought savagely to hold them back. for a moment the sioux were halted. then they rallied, and swept forward in a ferocious attack that completely overcame their foes. a moment afterward they were at the rear of the herd. in the meantime red dog and his tribesmen had raced ahead of the pawnees, and were attempting to turn the ponies. once at the front of the herd, they rode wildly among the pawnees and drove the frightened ponies from their course. whooping, and lashing furiously with their heavy riding quirts, they gradually forced the ponies toward the east. the pawnees attacked them with great bravery, but the cheyennes beat them off. then a company of ogalalas raced along the flank of the herd and came to the assistance of their allies. "turn the ponies--run them to the water!" they cried. they soon gained control of the herd and raced the ponies toward the stream. the pawnees had no thought of yielding. infuriated by the success of their foes, they fought valiantly to regain possession of the ponies. "hold them off, hold them off!" shouted white otter. while red dog and a company of cheyennes rode ahead to drive aside the pawnees, the rest of the war party surrounded the herd. the pawnees found it impossible to reach the ponies. they rode close up to their foes and fought with reckless courage, but each time they were driven off. "hi, the pawnees are brave," sun bird told white otter. "yes, they are making a great fight," acknowledged white otter. when they finally reached the timber the ponies attempted to turn aside, and in a moment the herd was thrown into wild confusion. the pawnees were quick to seize the opportunity. yelling fiercely, they dashed forward like a pack of mad wolves, and attempted to cause a stampede. "come, cheyennes, drive the ponies into the water!" cried white otter. "ogalalas, hold back the pawnees!" then the sioux and the pawnees fought a thrilling hand-to-hand encounter, while the cheyennes made frantic attempts to drive the unruly ponies into the timber. wild with panic, the frenzied beasts plunged, and reared, and kicked in their efforts to break through the circle of riders that surrounded them. at last the cheyennes lashed them into submission and drove them forward. they plunged down the bank, and floundered wildly across the stream. then the cheyennes raced them away into the north. "hi, my brothers, some of us must go back there, and help our brothers, the ogalalas," said red dog, when they were several arrow flights from the stream. then they heard the dacotah war cry ringing through the night. soon afterward white otter and his gallant fighters overtook them. they were in high spirits. "where are the pawnees?" inquired red dog. "they are running to their lodges," laughed white otter. "white otter, you are a great chief," declared red dog. "the ogalalas are as brave as ma-to-ho-ta, the bear. we will go to your village, and tell your people what you have done. yes, we will give some ponies to your chief, wolf robe." "it is good," replied white otter. then he called sun bird and little raven to ride beside him. it was a long time before he spoke. "my brothers, we have done what we set out to do," he said, finally. "it was a great fight. many brave warriors were killed. i will not talk about it. you were very brave. you have helped me to do a big thing. sun bird, i saw you drive back many pawnees. yes, you were always in the fight. little raven, i saw you fight off three pawnees. yes, i saw you do some big things. my brothers, i will tell your great chief curly horse about you. i will tell him that you did big things to help my people." "white otter, your words make me feel good," said sun bird. "you came to our lodges and went with us to fight the blackfeet. now we have helped you fight the pawnees. it is good. we are dacotahs. a dacotah will fight for his brother." "it is true," declared little raven. the end note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) [illustration: english tourists' camp--doubtful friends.] eleven years in the rocky mountains and life on the frontier. by frances f. victor. also a history of the sioux war, and a life of gen. george a. custer with full account of his last battle. illustrated by engravings and maps. published by subscription only. columbian book company, hartford, conn. . copyright by columbian book company. . part i. mountain adventures and frontier life. introduction. when the author of this book has been absorbed in the elegant narratives of washington irving, reading and musing over _astoria_ and _bonneville_, in the cozy quiet of a new york study, no prescient motion of the mind ever gave prophetic indication of that personal acquaintance which has since been formed with the scenes, and even with some of the characters which figure in the works just referred to. yet so have events shaped themselves that to me astoria is familiar ground; forts vancouver and walla-walla pictured forever in my memory; while such journeys as i have been enabled to make into the country east of the last named fort, have given me a fair insight into the characteristic features of its mountains and its plains. to-day, a railroad traverses the level stretch between the missouri river and the rocky mountains, along which, thirty years ago, the fur-traders had worn a trail by their annual excursions with men, pack-horses, and sometimes wagons, destined to the rocky mountains. then, they had to guard against the attacks of the savages; and in this respect civilization is behind the railroad, for now, as then, it is not safe to travel without a sufficient escort. to-day, also, we have new territories called by several names cut out of the identical hunting-grounds of the fur-traders of thirty years ago; and steamboats plying the rivers where the mountain-men came to set their traps for beaver; or cities growing up like mushrooms from a soil made quick by gold, where the hardy mountain-hunter pursued the buffalo herds in search of his winter's supply of food. the wonderful romance which once gave enchantment to stories of hardship and of daring deeds, suffered and done in these then distant wilds, is fast being dissipated by the rapid settlement of the new territories, and by the familiarity of the public mind with tales of stirring adventure encountered in the search for glittering ores. it was, then, not without an emotion of pleased surprise that i first encountered in the fertile plains of western oregon the subject of this biography, a man fifty-eight years of age, of fine appearance and buoyant temper, full of anecdote, and with a memory well stored with personal recollections of all the men of note who have formerly visited the old oregon territory, when it comprised the whole country west of the rocky mountains lying north of california and south of the forty-ninth parallel. this man is _joseph l. meek_, to whose stories of mountain-life i have listened for days together; and who, after having figured conspicuously, and not without considerable fame, in the early history of oregon, still prides himself most of all on having been a "mountain-man." it has frequently been suggested to mr. meek, who has now come to be known by the familiar title of "uncle joe" to all oregon, that a history of his varied adventures would make a readable book, and some of his neighbors have even undertaken to become his historian, yet with so little well-directed efforts that the task after all has fallen to a comparative stranger. i confess to having taken hold of it with some doubts as to my claims to the office; and the best recommendation i can give my work is the interest i myself felt in the subject of it; and the only apology i can offer for anything incredible in the narrative which it may contain, is that i "tell the tale as 'twas told to me," and that i have no occasion to doubt the truth of it. seeing that the incidents i had to record embraced a period of a score and a half of years, and that they extended over those years most interesting in oregon history, as well as of the history of the fur trade in the west, i have concluded to preface mr. meek's adventures with a sketch of the latter, believing that the information thus conveyed to the reader will give an additional degree of interest to their narration. the impression made upon my own mind as i gained a knowledge of the facts which i shall record in this book relating to the early occupation of oregon, was that they were not only profoundly romantic, but decidedly unique. mr. meek was born in washington co., virginia, in , one year before the settlement of _astoria_, and at a period when congress was much interested in the question of our western possessions and their boundary. "manifest destiny" seemed to have raised him up, together with many others, bold, hardy, and fearless men, to become sentinels on the outposts of civilization, securing to the united states with comparative ease a vast extent of territory, for which, without them, a long struggle with england would have taken place, delaying the settlement of the pacific coast for many years, if not losing it to us altogether. it is not without a feeling of genuine self-congratulation, that i am able to bear testimony to the services, hitherto hardly recognized, of the "mountain-men" who have settled in oregon. whenever there shall arise a studious and faithful historian, their names shall not be excluded from honorable mention, nor least illustrious will appear that of joseph l. meek, the rocky mountain hunter and trapper. contents. prefatory chapter. astoria--fort vancouver--its isolated position--precautions against indians--the hudson's bay company--its policy and intercourse with the indians--the arrival of the "brigade"--other yearly arrivals--punishment of indian offenders--indian strategy--a hero--the american fur companies--their dealings with the indians--ashley's expeditions to green river--attack on smith's party--wyeth's expeditions--fort hall--decline of the fur trade--causes of the indians' hostility--dangers attending the trapper's life, chapter i. early life of meek--he leaves home--enlists in a fur company--on the march--a warning voice--frontier sports--last vestige of civilization--on the plains--a first adventure--a firm front--a parley--the summer rendezvous--an enchanting picture--the free trapper's indian wife--wild carousals--routine of camp life--smoked moccasins versus green ones--a "trifling fellow," chapter ii. the camp in motion--a trapping expedition--opposition to the hudson's bay company--beautiful scenery--the lost leader found--rejoicings in camp--the "luck" of the trappers--conference of leaders--the "devil's own"--blackfoot character--account of the tribes, chapter iii. how beaver are taken--beaver dams--formation of meadows--beaver lodges--"bachelors"--trapping in winter--"up to trap"--blackfeet on the trail--on guard--the trapper's ruse--a disappointed bear--a fight with blackfeet--"out of luck"--alone in the mountains--splendid views--a miserable night--the last luxury of life--the awfulness of solitude--a singular discovery--a hell on earth--a joyful recognition--hard times in camp--the negro's porcupine--craig's rabbit--deep snows--what the scout saw--bighorn river--"colter's hell"--an alarm--arrival at wind river--christmas, chapter iv. removal to powder river--a trapper's paradise--the transformation in the wilderness--the encampment by night--meek takes to study--on the move--loss of horses and traps--robbed and insulted by a bear--crossing the yellowstone--a novel ferriage--annoyance from blackfeet--a cache opened--a comrade killed--rude burial service--return to rendezvous--gay times--the old partners take leave, chapter v. grizzly bears--an adventure with a grizzly--the three "bares"--the mountain-man's manners--joking the leaders--the irishman and the booshway--how sublette climbed a tree and escaped a bear--rival trappers--whisky as a strong card--ogden's indian wife--her courage and escape--winter quarters--crow horse-thieves--an expedition on foot--night attack on the indian fort--fitzpatrick missing--destitution in camp--a "medicine-man" consulted--"making medicine"--a vision obtained--fitzpatrick found--death of smith--an expedition on snow-shoes, chapter vi annoying competition--the chief's daughter--sublette wounded--forty days of isolation--sublette and meek captured by snake indians--a solemn council--sentence of death--hope deferred--a rescue--the "mountain lamb"--an obstinate rival--blackfeet marauders--fitzpatrick's adventures in the mountains--"when the pie was opened the birds began to sing"--rough sports--a man on fire--brigades ready for the start--blackfeet caravan--peaceful overtures--the half-breed's revenge--a battle--reinforcements--death of sinclair--sublette wounded--greenhorns--a false alarm--indian adroitness--a deserted fort--incident of the blackfoot woman--murder of a party by blackfeet, chapter vii. the march to the humboldt--scarcity of game--terrible sufferings--the horrors of thirst and famine--eating ants, crickets and mules--return to snake river--a lucky discovery--a trout supper--the country of the diggers--some account of them--anecdote of wyeth and meek--comparison of indian tribes--the blackfeet--the crows--the coast tribes and the mountain tribes--the columbia river indians--their habits, customs, and dress--indian commerce--the indians of the plains--their dress, manners, and wealth--the horses of the plains--language--the indian's moral nature--hungry and hospitable savages--a trap set for a rival--an ambush--death of vanderburg--skirmish with blackfeet--the woman interpreter taken prisoner--bravery of her husband--happy finale--meek rescues the "mountain lamb"--intense cold--threatened by famine--the den of grizzlys--second daniels, chapter viii. a visit from blackfeet--the green river rendezvous--a "powerful drunk"--mad wolf--a friendly warning--a trip to the salt lake country--meek joins jo. walker's california expedition--instinct of the mule--on the humboldt river--massacre of diggers at mary's river--vain explorations--crossing the sierra nevadas--hardships and sufferings--the sacramento valley--delight of the trappers--meeting with spanish soldiers--a parley--escorted to monterey--a hospitable reception--the native californians--visit to the mohave village--meeting with trapp and jervais--infamous conduct at the moquis village--the return march, chapter ix. in the camanche country--a surprise and a rapid movement--the mule fort--a camanche charge--sure aim--another charge--more dead indians--woman's weapon, the tongue--fearful heat and sufferings from thirst--the escape by night--the south park--death of guthrie--meeting with bonneville--indignant reproaches, chapter x. gossip at rendezvous--adventures in the crow country--fitzpatrick picked by the crows and flies from them--honor among thieves--unfair treatment of wyeth--bonneville snubbed at walla-walla--he rejects good counsel--wyeth's threat, and its fulfillment--division of territory, chapter xi. in the blackfoot country--a visit to wyeth's trappers--sorry experiences--condolence and its effect--the visitors become defenders--a battle with fire and sword--fighting for life--the trappers' victory--a trapping excursion--meek plays a trick and has one played on him--a run to camp--taking up traps--a blackfoot ambush--a running fire--a lucky escape--winter camp on the yellowstone--interpretation of a dream--a buffalo hunt and a blackfoot surprise--meek's mule story, chapter xii. setting up as a family man--first love--cut out by the booshway--reward of constancy--beauty of umentucken--her dress, her horse and equipments--anecdotes of the mountain lamb--her quarrel with the trapper--capture by crows--her rescue--meek avenges an insult--a row in camp--the female element--death of umentucken, chapter xiii. visitors at rendezvous--advent of missionaries--what brought them--bonneville's account of the nez perces and flatheads--an enthusiastic view of their characters--origin of some of their religious observances--an indian's idea of a god--material good desired--mistake of the missionaries--first sermon in the rocky mountains--interrupted by buffaloes--precept and example--dr. whitman's character--the missionaries separate--dr. whitman returns to the states, chapter xiv. meek falls into the hands of crows--the story as he tells it--he packs moccasins, and bears the jeers of the fair sex--bridger's camp discovered and the lie found out--a desperate situation--signaling the horse-guard--a parley with bridger--successful strategy--capture of little-gun--meek set at liberty with a new name--a fort besieged by bears--a lazy trapper--the decoy of the delawares--winter amusements--the ishmaelite of the wilderness--march through the crow country--return to green river--punishment of the bannacks--consolidation--an excursion--intercepted by crows--a scattered camp--the escape, chapter xv. an express from fitzpatrick--the approach of missionaries announced--the caravan welcomed by a party of trappers--noisy demonstrations--curiosity of the indians--the missionary ladies--preparations in the indian villages--reception of the missionaries by the nez perces and flatheads--kind treatment from the hudson's bay company--the missionaries' land of promise--visit to fort vancouver--selection of missionary stations, chapter xvi. the den of rattlesnakes--the old frenchman--how to keep snakes out of bed--the prairie dog's tenants at will--fight with blackfeet--policy of war--a duel averted--a run-away bear--meek's best bear fight--winter quarters on powder river--robbing bonneville's men, chapter xvii. a dissipated camp--a crow carousal--picked crows--a fight with blackfeet--manhead killed--night visit to the blackfoot village--"cooning a river"--stanley the indian painter--desperate fight with blackfeet--"the trapper's last shot"--war and peace--in the wrong camp--to rendezvous on wind river--mr. gray, and his adventures--massacre of indian allies--capt. stuart robbed by crows--newell's address to the chiefs, chapter xviii. decline of the fur trade--wild scenes at rendezvous--a missionary party--entertained by a war dance--meek in armor--deserted by his indian spouse--the pursuit--meek abuses a missionary and kidnaps his wife--meek's black eyed daughter--singing for a biscuit--trapping again--a hot march, and fearful suffering from thirst--the old flathead woman--water at last, chapter xix. a chat about buffalo hunting--buffalo horses--the start--the pursuit--the charge--tumbles--horsemanship--the glory of mountain life--how a nez perce village hunts buffalo--kit carson and the frenchman on a run--mountain manners, chapter xx. the solitary trapper--a jest--among the nez perces--their eagerness to be taught--meek is called upon to preach--he modestly complies--asks for a wife--polygamy defended--meek gets a wife--the preacher's salary--surprised by blackfeet--death of allen--the last rendezvous--anecdote of shawnee jim--the new wife missing--meeting with farnham--cold and famine--succor and food--parties at fort crockett--setting up in trade--how al. saved his bacon--bad times--war upon horse thieves--in search of adventures--green river canyon--running antelope--gambling--vain hunt for rendezvous--reflections and half-resolves--the last trapping expedition, chapter xxi. a new start in life--mountain-men for pioneers--discovery of the columbia river--what capt. gray did--what vancouver did--the united states' claim to oregon--first missionaries to the wallamet--john mclaughlin--hospitalities of fort vancouver--the mission reinforced--other settlers in the wallamet valley--how they regarded the mission--the california cattle company--distribution of settlers, chapter xxii. westward ho!--opening wagon roads--republicanism--fat pork for preachers--mission work at waiilatpu--helen mar--off for the wallamet--wagons left at walla-walla--the dalles mission--indian prayers--the missionaries and the mountain-men--the impious canadian--doing penance--down the columbia--trouble with indians--arrival at the wallamet--hunger, and dependence on fort vancouver--meeting old comrades--settling on the tualatin plains--a disagreeable winter--taking claims--who furnished the seed wheat, chapter xxiii. scarcity of employment--wilkes' exploring expedition--meek employed as pilot--interchange of courtesies at vancouver--"the peacock"--unpleasant reminder--exploring the cowelitz--wilkes' chronometer--land expedition to california--meek discharged--gleaning wheat--fifty miles for an axe--visit to the new mission--praying for a cow--marriage ceremony, chapter xxiv. the brooding of events--arrival of the chenamus--meek celebrates the fourth of july--dr. whitman goes to washington--an alarming feature--mission stations of the upper country--discontent of the indians--the missionaries insulted and threatened--mrs. whitman frightened away from waiilatpu, chapter xxv. the plot thickens--the wolf association--suspicions of the canadians--"who's for a divide?"--the die cast--a shout for freedom--meek appointed sheriff--the provisional government, chapter xxvi. arrival of the immigration at the dalles--wagons abandoned--pitiable condition of the women and children--aid from the hudson's bay company--perils of the columbia--wreck of the boat--wonderful escape--trials of the new colonists--the generous savage--the barefoot lawyer--meek's pumpkin--privation of the settlers--shopping under difficulties--attempt to manufacture ardent spirits--dilemma of the people--an appeal--the sheriff destroys the distillery--anecdote of dr. white and madam cooper--meek levies on her whisky--first official act of the sheriff, chapter xxvii. excitement about indians--dr. white's flogging law--indian revenge--raid of the klamaths--massacre of indians--affray at the falls--death of cockstock--death of lebreton and rogers--"you'd better run"--meek's policy with the indians--meek and the agent--the borrowed horse--solemn audacity--wonderful transformation--temperance--courts--anecdote of judge nesmith--early days of portland--an indian carousal--meek "settles the indians"--the immigration of --the cascade mountain road-hunters--hunger and peril--a last request--succor at the last moment--a reason for patriotism, chapter xxviii. difficulty of collecting taxes--a ponderous currency--dr. mclaughlin's ox--an exciting year--the boundary question--"fifty-four-forty or fight"--war vessels in the columbia--loss of the shark--meek receives a salute--schenck arrested--the color-stand of the shark--"sunset at the mouth of the columbia," chapter xxix. "the adventures of a columbia river salmon"--history of the immigration of --opening of southern route to the wallamet--tragic fate of the california immigrants--sufferings of the oregon immigrants--tardy relief--celebrating the fourth of july--visit to the ship brutus--an insult to the mountain-men--the indignity resented with a twelve-pounder--dr. mclaughlin interferes--re-election of meek--large immigration--failure of the territorial bill--affray between immigrants and indians at the dalles--meeting of the legislature--falling of the thunderbolt, chapter xxx. trouble with the up-country indians--causes of their disquiet--their opinion of the americans--"humbugged and cheated"--fear of greater frauds in the future--resolve not to submit--their feelings toward dr. whitman--acts of violence--influence of the catholic missionaries--a season of severe sickness--what provoked the massacre--joe lewis the half-breed--the fatal test--sickness among the immigrants--dr. whitman's family--persons at the mission and mill--helen mar--arrival of mr. whitman and his daughter--a night visit to the umatilla--in the lodge of stickas, the walla-walla chief--the warning of stickas and his family--the death song--"beware of the cayuses at the mission!"--mr. spaulding meets brouillet, the catholic bishop--news of the massacre--escape to the woods--night journeys to lapwai, chapter xxxi. the tragedy at waiilatpu--dr. whitman's arrival at home--monday morning at the mission--commencement of the massacre--the first victim--"oh, the indians!"--horrors of the attack--shooting of mrs. whitman--treachery of jo lewis--sufferings of the children--indian orgies--the victims tortured--the two compassionate indians--a night of horror--remarkable escape of mr. osborne and family--escape and fate of mr. hall--cruel treatment of fugitives--kindness of mr. stanley--inhospitable reception at fort walla-walla--touching kindness of stickas, chapter xxxii. horrors of the waiilatpu massacre--exemption of the catholics--charges of the protestants--natural suspicions--further particulars of the massacre--cruelty to the children--fate of the young women--miss bulee and the priests--lapwai mission--arrival of mr. camfield--an indian trait--heroism of mrs. spalding--appeal to the chiefs--arrival of the news--lapwai plundered--treachery of joseph--arrival of mr. spalding--detained as hostages--ransomed by the h.b. company--the "blood of the martyrs"--country abandoned to the indians--subsequent return of mr. spalding to the nez perces, chapter xxxiii. the call to arms--meetings and speeches--ways and means of defence--the first regiment of oregon riflemen--messenger to the governor of california--meek chosen messenger to the president of the united states--he proceeds to the dalles--the army marches to waiilatpu--a skirmish with the des chutes--burial of the victims--meek escorted to the blue mountains, chapter xxxiv. meek's party--precautions against indians--meeting with bannacks--white lies--fort hall--deep snows--horses abandoned--the mountain spirit returning--meeting with peg-leg smith--a mountain revel--meeting with an old leader--reception at fort laramie--passing the sioux village--courtesy of a french trader--reflections on nearing the settlements--resolve to remain joe meek--reception at st. joseph--"the quickest trip yet"--arrival at st. louis--meek as steamboat runner--interview with the stage agent at wheeling--astonishing the natives--the puzzled conductor--arrival at washington, chapter xxxv. meek dines at coleman's--a sensation--an amusing scene--recognized by senator underwood--visit to the president--cordial reception by the family of polk--some doubts of himself--rapid recovery of self-possession--action of the friends of oregon--the two oregon representatives--the oregon bill in the senate--mr. thornton--meek's successful debut in society--curiosity of ladies--kit carson and the "contingent fund"--meek's remarkable popularity--invited to baltimore by the city council--escorts the president--visit to lowell--the factory girls--some natural regrets--kindness of mrs. polk and mrs. walker--commodore wilkes--oregon lies--getting franked--champagne suppers, chapter xxxvi. meek appointed u.s. marshal for oregon--"home sweet home"--pay of the delegates--the lion's share--meek's interview with gov. lane--buying out a peddler--the escort of riflemen--the start from st. louis, and the route--meeting price's army--an adventure and a pleasant surprise--leaving the wagons--desertion of soldiers--drought--the trick of the yumas--demoralization of the train--rumors of gold--gen. lane's coffee--the writer's reflection--the party on foot--extreme sufferings--arrival at william's ranch--speculation in silks and jack-knives--miners at los angelos--oregonians at san francisco--nat lane and meek take the gold fever--meek's investment--the governor and marshal quarrel--pranks with a jew--a salute--arrival in oregon city, chapter xxxvii. lane's course with the cayuse indians--magnanimity of the savages--rebuke to their captors--their statements to meek--the puzzle of indian ethics--incidents of the trial and execution--state of the upper country for a term of years--how meek was received in oregon--his incurable waggishness--scene in a court-room--contempt of court--judge nelson and the carpenters--two hundred lies--an excursion by the oregon court--indians tried for murder--proceedings of a jury--sentence and execution of the indians--the chief's wife--cost of proceedings--lane's career in oregon--gov. davis, chapter xxxviii. meek as u.s. marshal--the captain of the melvin--the british smuggler--returning a compliment--"barly enough for the officers of the court"--misused confidence--indian disturbances--the indian war of - --gen. wool and gov. curry--officers of the war--how the volunteers fared--meek as a volunteer--feasting and fun--"marking time"--end of meek's public career, illustrations. page. english tourists' camp--doubtful friends.--_frontispiece._ winter couriers of the north-west fur company, a station of the hudson's bay company, watching for indian horse-thieves, map of the fur country, the enlistment, the summer rendezvous, beavers at work, hunters' winter camp, the three "bares," the wrong end of the tree, scouts in the blackfoot country--"elk or indians?", branding cattle in southern california, a fight with camanches--the mule fort, view on the columbia, the free trapper's indian wife, "indians, by jove!" descending the blue mountains, the bear in camp, satisfied with bear fighting, cache, the trapper's last shot, the squaw's escape, horse-tail falls, a buffalo hunt, castle rock, columbia river, wrecked in the rapids, a wild indian in town, the cascade mountain road-hunters, mount hood from the dalles, massacre of the whitman family, meek as a steamboat runner, "take care knox," a mountain-man in clover, gov. lane and meek on the colorado desert, meek as u.s. marshal--scene in a court-room, [illustration: winter couriers of the north-west fur company.] prefatory chapter. an account of the hudson's bay company's intercourse with the indians of the north-west coast; with a sketch of the different american fur companies, and their dealings with the tribes of the rocky mountains. in the year , mr. prevost, acting for the united states, received astoria back from the british, who had taken possession, as narrated by mr. irving, four years previous. the restoration took place in conformity with the treaty of ghent, by which those places captured during the war were restored to their original possessors. mr. astor stood ready at that time to renew his enterprise on the columbia river, had congress been disposed to grant him the necessary protection which the undertaking required. failing to secure this, when the united states sloop of war ontario sailed away from astoria, after having taken formal possession of that place for our government, the country was left to the occupancy, (scarcely a joint-occupancy, since there were then no americans here,) of the british traders. after the war, and while negotiations were going on between great britain and the united states, the fort at astoria had remained in possession of the north-west company, as their principal establishment west of the mountains. it had been considerably enlarged since it had come into their possession, and was furnished with artillery enough to have frightened into friendship a much more warlike people than the subjects of old king comcomly; who, it will be remembered, was not at first very well disposed towards the "king george men," having learned to look upon the "boston men" as his friends in his earliest intercourse with the whites. at this time astoria, or _fort george_, as the british traders called it, contained sixty-five inmates, twenty-three of whom were whites, and the remainder canadian half-breeds and sandwich islanders. besides this number of men, there were a few women, the native wives of the men, and their half-breed offspring. the situation of astoria, however, was not favorable, being near the sea coast, and not surrounded with good farming lands such as were required for the furnishing of provisions to the fort. therefore, when in it was destroyed by fire, it was only in part rebuilt, but a better and more convenient location for the headquarters of the north-west company was sought for in the interior. about this time a quarrel of long standing between the hudson's bay and north-west companies culminated in a battle between their men in the red river country, resulting in a considerable loss of life and property. this affair drew the attention of the government at home; the rights of the rival companies were examined into, the mediation of the ministry secured, and a compromise effected, by which the north-west company, which had succeeded in dispossessing the pacific fur company under mr. astor, was merged into the hudson's bay company, whose name and fame are so familiar to all the early settlers of oregon. at the same time, parliament passed an act by which the hands of the consolidated company were much strengthened, and the peace and security of all persons greatly insured; but which became subsequently, in the joint occupancy of the country, a cause of offence to the american citizens, as we shall see hereafter. this act allowed the commissioning of justices of the peace in all the territories not belonging to the united states, nor already subject to grants. these justices were to execute and enforce the laws and decisions of the courts of upper canada; to take evidence, and commit and send to canada for trial the guilty; and even in some cases, to hold courts themselves for the trial of criminal offences and misdemeanors not punishable with death, or of civil causes in which the amount at issue should not exceed two hundred pounds. thus in , the north-west company, whose perfidy had occasioned such loss and mortification to the enterprising new york merchant, became itself a thing of the past, and a new rule began in the region west of the rocky mountains. the old fort at astoria having been only so far rebuilt as to answer the needs of the hour, after due consideration, a site for head-quarters was selected about one hundred miles from the sea, near the mouth of the wallamet river, though opposite to it. three considerations went to make up the eligibility of the point selected. first, it was desirable, even necessary, to settle upon good agricultural lands, where the company's provisions could be raised by the company's servants. second, it was important that the spot chosen should be upon waters navigable for the company's vessels, or upon tide-water. lastly, and not leastly, the company had an eye to the boundary question between great britain and the united states; and believing that the end of the controversy would probably be to make the columbia river the northern limit of the united states territory, a spot on the northern bank of that river was considered a good point for their fort, and possible future city. the site chosen by the north-west company in , for their new fort, combined all these advantages, and the further one of having been already commenced and named. fort vancouver became at once on the accession of the hudson's bay company, the metropolis of the northwest coast, the center of the fur trade, and the seat of government for that immense territory, over which roamed the hunters and trappers in the employ of that powerful corporation. this post was situated on the edge of a beautiful sloping plain on the northern bank of the columbia, about six miles above the upper mouth of the wallamet. at this point the columbia spreads to a great width, and is divided on the south side into bayous by long sandy islands, covered with oak, ash, and cotton-wood trees, making the noble river more attractive still by adding the charm of curiosity concerning its actual breadth to its natural and ordinary magnificence. back of the fort the land rose gently, covered with forests of fir; and away to the east swelled the foot-hills of the cascade range, then the mountains themselves, draped in filmy azure, and over-topped five thousand feet by the snowy cone of mt. hood. in this lonely situation grew up, with the dispatch which characterized the acts of the company, a fort in most respects similar to the original one at astoria. it was not, however, thought necessary to make so great a display of artillery as had served to keep in order the subjects of comcomly. a stockade enclosed a space about eight hundred feet long by five hundred broad, having a bastion at one corner, where were mounted three guns, while two eighteen pounders and two swivels were planted in front of the residence of the governor and chief factors. these commanded the main entrance to the fort, besides which there were two other gates in front, and another in the rear. military precision was observed in the precautions taken against surprises, as well as in all the rules of the place. the gates were opened and closed at certain hours, and were always guarded. no large number of indians were permitted within the enclosure at the same time, and every employee at the fort knew and performed his duty with punctuality. the buildings within the stockade were the governor's and chief factors' residences, stores, offices, work-shops, magazines, warehouses, &c. year by year, up to or ' , improvements continued to go on in and about the fort, the chief of which was the cultivation of the large farm and garden outside the enclosure, and the erection of a hospital building, large barns, servants' houses, and a boat-house, all outside of the fort; so that at the period when the columbia river was a romance and a mystery to the people of the united states, quite a flourishing and beautiful village adorned its northern shore, and that too erected and sustained by the enemies of american enterprise on soil commonly believed to belong to the united states: fair foes the author firmly believes them to have been in those days, yet foes nevertheless. the system on which the hudson's bay company conducted its business was the result of long experience, and was admirable for its method and its justice also. when a young man entered its service as a clerk, his wages were small for several years, increasing only as his ability and good conduct entitled him to advancement. when his salary had reached one hundred pounds sterling he became eligible to a chief-tradership as a partner in the concern, from which position he was promoted to the rank of a chief factor. no important business was ever intrusted to an inexperienced person, a policy which almost certainly prevented any serious errors. a regular tariff was established on the company's goods, comprising all the articles used in their trade with the indians; nor was the quality of their goods ever allowed to deteriorate. a price was also fixed upon furs according to their market value, and an indian knowing this, knew exactly what he could purchase. no bartering was allowed. when skins were offered for sale at the fort they were handed to the clerk through a window like a post-office delivery-window, and their value in the article desired, returned through the same aperture. all these regulations were of the highest importance to the good order, safety, and profit of the company. the confidence of the indians was sure to be gained by the constancy and good faith always observed toward them, and the company obtained thereby numerous and powerful allies in nearly all the tribes. as soon as it was possible to make the change, the indians were denied the use of intoxicating drinks, the appetite for which had early been introduced among them by coasting vessels, and even continued by the pacific fur company at astoria. it would have been dangerous to have suddenly deprived them of the coveted stimulus; therefore the practice must be discontinued by many wise arts and devices. a public notice was given that the sale of it would be stopped, and the reasons for this prohibition explained to the indians. still, not to come into direct conflict with their appetites, a little was sold to the chiefs, now and then, by the clerks, who affected to be running the greatest risks in violating the order of the company. the strictest secrecy was enjoined on the lucky chief who, by the friendship of some under-clerk, was enabled to smuggle off a bottle under his blanket. but the cunning clerk had generally managed to get his "good friend" into a state so cleverly between drunk and sober, before he entrusted him with the precious bottle, that he was sure to betray himself. leaving the shop with a mien even more erect than usual, with a gait affected in its majesty, and his blanket tightened around him to conceal his secret treasure, the chuckling chief would start to cross the grounds within the fort. if he was a new customer, he was once or twice permitted to play his little game with the obliging clerk whose particular friend he was, and to escape detection. but by-and-by, when the officers had seen the offence repeated more than once from their purposely contrived posts of observation, one of them would skillfully chance to intercept the guilty chief at whose comical endeavors to appear sober he was inwardly laughing, and charge him with being intoxicated. wresting away the tightened blanket, the bottle appeared as evidence that could not be controverted, of the duplicity of the indian and the unfaithfulness of the clerk, whose name was instantly demanded, that he might be properly punished. when the chief again visited the fort, his particular friend met him with a sorrowful countenance, reproaching him for having been the cause of his disgrace and loss. this reproach was the surest means of preventing another demand for rum, the indian being too magnanimous, probably, to wish to get his friend into trouble; while the clerk affected to fear the consequences too much to be induced to take the risk another time. thus by kind and careful means the traffic in liquors was at length broken up, which otherwise would have ruined both indian and trader. to the company's servants liquor was sold or allowed at certain times: to those on the sea-board, one half-pint two or three times a year, to be used as medicine,--not that it was always needed or used for this purpose, but too strict inquiry into its use was wisely avoided,--and for this the company demanded pay. to their servants in the interior no liquor was sold, but they were furnished as a gratuity with one pint on leaving rendezvous, and another on arriving at winter quarters. by this management, it became impossible for them to dispose of drink to the indians; their small allowance being always immediately consumed in a meeting or parting carouse. the arrival of men from the interior at fort vancouver usually took place in the month of june, when the columbia was high, and a stirring scene it was. the chief traders generally contrived their march through the upper country, their camps, and their rendezvous, so as to meet the express which annually came to vancouver from canada and the red river settlements. they then descended the columbia together, and arrived in force at the fort. this annual fleet went by the name of brigade--a name which suggested a military spirit in the crews that their appearance failed to vindicate. yet, though there was nothing warlike in the scene, there was much that was exciting, picturesque, and even brilliant; for these _couriers de bois_, or wood-rangers, and the _voyageurs_, or boatmen, were the most foppish of mortals when they came to rendezvous. then, too, there was an exaltation of spirits on their safe arrival at head-quarters, after their year's toil and danger in wildernesses, among indians and wild beasts, exposed to famine and accident, that almost deprived them of what is called "common sense," and compelled them to the most fantastic excesses. their well-understood peculiarities did not make them the less welcome at vancouver. when the cry was given--"the brigade! the brigade!"--there was a general rush to the river's bank to witness the spectacle. in advance came the chief-trader's barge, with the company's flag at the bow, and the cross of st. george at the stern: the fleet as many abreast as the turnings of the river allowed. with strong and skillful strokes the boatmen governed their richly laden boats, keeping them in line, and at the same time singing in chorus a loud and not unmusical hunting or boating song. the gay ribbons and feathers with which the singers were bedecked took nothing from the picturesqueness of their appearance. the broad, full river, sparkling in the sunlight, gemmed with emerald islands, and bordered with a rich growth of flowering shrubbery; the smiling plain surrounding the fort; the distant mountains, where glittered the sentinel mt. hood, all came gracefully into the picture, and seemed to furnish a fitting back-ground and middle distance for the bright bit of coloring given by the moving life in the scene. as with a skillful sweep the brigade touched the bank, and the traders and men sprang on shore, the first cheer which had welcomed their appearance was heartily repeated, while a gay clamor of questions and answers followed. after the business immediately incident to their arrival had been dispatched, then took place the regale of pork, flour, and spirits, which was sure to end in a carouse, during which blackened eyes and broken noses were not at all uncommon; but though blood was made to flow, life was never put seriously in peril, and the belligerent parties were the best of friends when the fracas was ended. the business of exchange being completed in three or four weeks--the rich stores of peltries consigned to their places in the warehouse, and the boats reladen with goods for the next year's trade with the indians in the upper country, a parting carouse took place, and with another parade of feathers, ribbons, and other finery, the brigade departed with songs and cheers as it had come, but with probably heavier hearts. it would be a stern morality indeed which could look upon the excesses of this peculiar class as it would upon the same excesses committed by men in the enjoyment of all the comforts and pleasures of civilized life. for them, during most of the year, was only an out-door life of toil, watchfulness, peril, and isolation. when they arrived at the rendezvous, for the brief period of their stay they were allowed perfect license because nothing else would content them. although at head-quarters they were still in the wilderness, thousands of miles from civilization, with no chance of such recreations as men in the continual enjoyment of life's sweetest pleasures would naturally seek. for them there was only one method of seeking and finding temporary oblivion of the accustomed hardship; and whatever may be the strict rendering of man's duty as an immortal being, we cannot help being somewhat lenient at times to his errors as a mortal. after the departure of the boats, there was another arrival at the fort, of trappers from the snake river country. previous to , such were the dangers of the fur trade in this region, that only the most experienced traders were suffered to conduct a party through it; and even they were frequently attacked, and sometimes sustained serious losses of men and animals. subsequently, however, the hudson's bay company obtained such an influence over even these hostile tribes as to make it safe for a party of no more than two of their men to travel through this much dreaded region. there was another important arrival at fort vancouver, usually in midsummer. this was the company's supply ship from london. in the possible event of a vessel being lost, one cargo was always kept on store at vancouver; but for which wise regulation much trouble and disaster might have resulted, especially in the early days of the establishment. occasionally a vessel foundered at sea or was lost on the bar of the columbia; but these losses did not interrupt the regular transaction of business. the arrival of a ship from london was the occasion of great bustle and excitement also. she brought not only goods for the posts throughout the district of the columbia, but letters, papers, private parcels, and all that seemed of so much value to the little isolated world at the fort. a company conducting its business with such method and regularity as has been described, was certain of success. yet some credit also must attach to certain individuals in its service, whose faithfulness, zeal, and ability in carrying out its designs, contributed largely to its welfare. such a man was at the head of the hudson's bay company's affairs in the large and important district west of the rocky mountains. the company never had in its service a more efficient man than gov. john mclaughlin, more commonly called dr. mclaughlin. to the discipline, at once severe and just, which dr. mclaughlin maintained in his district, was due the safety and prosperity of the company he served, and the servants of that company generally; as well as, at a later period, of the emigration which followed the hunter and trapper into the wilds of oregon. careful as were all the officers of the hudson's bay company, they could not always avoid conflicts with the indians; nor was their kindness and justice always sufficiently appreciated to prevent the outbreak of savage instincts. fort vancouver had been threatened in an early day; a vessel or two had been lost in which the indians were suspected to have been implicated; at long intervals a trader was murdered in the interior; or more frequently, indian insolence put to the test both the wisdom and courage of the officers to prevent an outbreak. when murders and robberies were committed, it was the custom at fort vancouver to send a strong party to demand the offenders from their tribe; such was the well known power and influence of the company, and such the wholesome fear of the "king george men," that this demand was never resisted, and if the murderer could be found he was given up to be hung according to "king george" laws. they were almost equally impelled to good conduct by the state of dependence on the company into which they had been brought. once they had subsisted and clothed themselves from the spoils of the rivers and forest; since they had tasted of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, they could no more return to skins for raiment, nor to game alone for food. blankets and flour, beads, guns, and ammunition had become dear to their hearts: for all these things they must love and obey the hudson's bay company. another fine stroke of policy in the company was to destroy the chieftain-ships in the various tribes; thus weakening them by dividing them and preventing dangerous coalitions of the leading spirits: for in savage as well as civilized life, the many are governed by the few. it may not be uninteresting in this place to give a few anecdotes of the manner in which conflicts with the indians were prevented, or offences punished by the hudson's bay company. in the year the ship _william and ann_ was cast away just inside the bar of the columbia, under circumstances which seemed to direct suspicion to the indians in that vicinity. whether or not they had attacked the ship, not a soul was saved from the wreck to tell how she was lost. on hearing that the ship had gone to pieces, and that the indians had appropriated a portion of her cargo, dr. mclaughlin sent a message to the chiefs, demanding restitution of the stolen goods. nothing was returned by the messenger except one or two worthless articles. immediately an armed force was sent to the scene of the robbery with a fresh demand for the goods, which the chiefs, in view of their spoils, thought proper to resist by firing upon the reclaiming party. but they were not unprepared; and a swivel was discharged to let the savages know what they might expect in the way of firearms. the argument was conclusive, the indians fleeing into the woods. while making search for the goods, a portion of which were found, a chief was observed skulking near, and cocking his gun; on which motion one of the men fired, and he fell. this prompt action, the justice of which the indians well understood, and the intimidating power of the swivel, put an end to the incipient war. care was then taken to impress upon their minds that they must not expect to profit by the disasters of vessels, nor be tempted to murder white men for the sake of plunder. the _william and ann_ was supposed to have got aground, when the savages seeing her situation, boarded her and murdered the crew for the cargo which they knew her to contain. yet as there were no positive proofs, only such measures were taken as would deter them from a similar attempt in future. that the lesson was not lost, was proven two years later, when the _isabella_, from london, struck on the bar, her crew deserting her. in this instance no attempt was made to meddle with the vessel's cargo; and as the crew made their way to vancouver, the goods were nearly all saved. in a former voyage of the _william and ann_ to the columbia river, she had been sent on an exploring expedition to the gulf of georgia to discover the mouth of frazier's river, having on board a crew of forty men. whenever the ship came to anchor, two sentries were kept constantly on deck to guard against any surprise or misconduct on the part of the indians; so adroit, however, were they in the light-fingered art, that every one of the eight cannon with which the ship was armed was robbed of its ammunition, as was discovered on leaving the river! such incidents as these served to impress the minds of the company's officers and servants with the necessity of vigilance in their dealings with the savages. not all their vigilance could at all times avail to prevent mischief. when sir george simpson, governor of the hudson's bay company, was on a visit to vancouver in , he was made aware of this truism. the governor was on his return to canada by way of the red river settlement, and had reached the dalles of the columbia with his party. in making the portage at this place, all the party except dr. tod gave their guns into the charge of two men to prevent their being stolen by the indians, who crowded about, and whose well-known bad character made great care needful. all went well, no attempt to seize either guns or other property being made until at the end of the portage the boats had been reloaded. as the party were about to re-embark, a simultaneous rush was made by the indians who had dogged their steps, to get possession of the boats. dr. tod raised his gun immediately, aiming at the head chief, who, not liking the prospect of so speedy dissolution, ordered his followers to desist, and the party were suffered to escape. it was soon after discovered that every gun belonging to the party in the boat had been wet, excepting the one carried by dr. tod; and to the fact that the doctor did carry his gun, all the others owed their lives. the great desire of the indians for guns and ammunition led to many stratagems which were dangerous to the possessors of the coveted articles. much more dangerous would it have been to have allowed them a free supply of these things; nor could an indian purchase from the company more than a stated supply, which was to be used, not for the purposes of war, but to keep himself in game. [illustration: a station of the hudson's bay company.] dr. mclaughlin was himself once quite near falling into a trap of the indians, so cunningly laid as to puzzle even him. this was a report brought to him by a deputation of columbia river indians, stating the startling fact that the fort at nesqually had been attacked, and every inmate slaughtered. to this horrible story, told with every appearance of truth, the doctor listened with incredulity mingled with apprehension. the indians were closely questioned and cross-questioned, but did not conflict in their testimony. the matter assumed a very painful aspect. not to be deceived, the doctor had the unwelcome messengers committed to custody while he could bring other witnesses from their tribe. but they were prepared for this, and the whole tribe were as positive as those who brought the tale. confounded by this cloud of witnesses, dr. mclaughlin had almost determined upon sending an armed force to nesqually to inquire into the matter, and if necessary, punish the indians, when a detachment of men arrived from that post, and the plot was exposed! the design of the indians had been simply to cause a division of the force at vancouver, after which they believed they might succeed in capturing and plundering the fort. had they truly been successful in this undertaking, every other trading-post in the country would have been destroyed. but so long as the head-quarters of the company remained secure and powerful, the other stations were comparatively safe. an incident which has been several times related, occurred at fort walla-walla, and shows how narrow escapes the interior traders sometimes made. the hero of this anecdote was mr. mckinlay, one of the most estimable of the hudson's bay company's officers, in charge of the fort just named. an indian was one day lounging about the fort, and seeing some timbers lying in a heap that had been squared for pack saddles, helped himself to one and commenced cutting it down into a whip handle for his own use. to this procedure mr. mckinlay's clerk demurred, first telling the indian its use, and then ordering him to resign the piece of timber. the indian insolently replied that the timber was his, and he should take it. at this the clerk, with more temper than prudence, struck the offender, knocking him over, soon after which the savage left the fort with sullen looks boding vengeance. the next day mr. mckinlay, not being informed of what had taken place, was in a room of the fort with his clerk when a considerable party of indians began dropping quietly in until there were fifteen or twenty of them inside the building. the first intimation of anything wrong mckinlay received was when he observed the clerk pointed out in a particular manner by one of the party. he instantly comprehended the purpose of his visitors, and with that quickness of thought which is habitual to the student of savage nature, he rushed into the store room and returned with a powder keg, flint and steel. by this time the unlucky clerk was struggling for his life with his vindictive foes. putting down the powder in their midst and knocking out the head of the keg with a blow, mckinlay stood over it ready to strike fire with his flint and steel. the savages paused aghast. they knew the nature of the "perilous stuff," and also understood the trader's purpose. "come," said he with a clear, determined voice, "you are twenty braves against us two: now touch him if you dare, and see who dies first." in a moment the fort was cleared, and mckinlay was left to inquire the cause of what had so nearly been a tragedy. it is hardly a subject of doubt whether or not his clerk got a scolding. soon after, such was the powerful influence exerted by these gentlemen, the chief of the tribe flogged the pilfering indian for the offence, and mckinlay became a great brave, a "big heart" for his courage. it was indeed necessary to have courage, patience, and prudence in dealing with the indians. these the hudson's bay officers generally possessed. perhaps the most irascible of them all in the columbia district, was their chief, dr. mclaughlin; but such was his goodness and justice that even the savages recognized it, and he was _hyas tyee_, or great chief, in all respects to them. being on one occasion very much annoyed by the pertinacity of an indian who was continually demanding pay for some stones with which the doctor was having a vessel ballasted, he seized one of some size, and thrusting it in the indian's mouth, cried out in a furious manner, "pay, pay! if the stones are yours, take them and eat them, you rascal! pay, pay! the devil! the devil!" upon which explosion of wrath, the native owner of the soil thought it prudent to withdraw his immediate claims. there was more, however, in the doctor's action than mere indulgence of wrath. he understood perfectly that the savage values only what he can eat and wear, and that as he could not put the stones to either of these uses, his demand for pay was an impudent one. enough has been said to give the reader an insight into indian character, to prepare his mind for events which are to follow, to convey an idea of the influence of the hudson's bay company, and to show on what it was founded. the american fur companies will now be sketched, and their mode of dealing with the indians contrasted with that of the british company. the comparison will not be favorable; but should any unfairness be suspected, a reference to mr. irving's _bonneville_, will show that the worthy captain was forced to witness against his own countrymen in his narrative of his hunting and trading adventures in the rocky mountains. * * * * * the dissolution of the pacific fur company, the refusal of the united states government to protect mr. astor in a second attempt to carry on a commerce with the indians west of the rocky mountains, and the occupation of that country by british traders, had the effect to deter individual enterprise from again attempting to establish commerce on the pacific coast. the people waited for the government to take some steps toward the encouragement of a trans-continental trade; the government beholding the lion (british) in the way, waited for the expiration of the convention of , in the micawber-like hope that something would "turn up" to settle the question of territorial sovereignty. the war of had been begun on the part of great britain, to secure the great western territories to herself for the profits of the fur trade, almost solely. failing in this, she had been compelled, by the treaty of ghent, to restore to the united states all the places and forts captured during that war. yet the forts and trading posts in the west remained practically in the possession of great britain; for her traders and fur companies still roamed the country, excluding american trade, and inciting (so the frontiers-men believed), the indians to acts of blood and horror. congress being importuned by the people of the west, finally, in , passed an act expelling british traders from american territory east of the rocky mountains. following the passage of this act the hunters and trappers of the old north american company, at the head of which mr. astor still remained, began to range the country about the head waters of the mississippi and the upper missouri. also a few american traders had ventured into the northern provinces of mexico, previous to the overthrow of the spanish government; and after that event, a thriving trade grew up between st. louis and santa fé. at length, in , mr. w.h. ashley, of st. louis, a merchant for a long time engaged in the fur trade on the missouri and its tributaries, determined to push a trading party up to or beyond the rocky mountains. following up the platte river, mr. ashley proceeded at the head of a large party with horses and merchandise, as far as the northern branch of the platte, called the sweetwater. this he explored to its source, situated in that remarkable depression in the rocky mountains, known as the south pass--the same which fremont _discovered_ twenty years later, during which twenty years it was annually traveled by trading parties, and just prior to fremont's discovery, by missionaries and emigrants destined to oregon. to mr. ashley also belongs the credit of having first explored the head-waters of the colorado, called the green river, afterwards a favorite rendezvous of the american fur companies. the country about the south pass proved to be an entirely new hunting ground, and very rich in furs, as here many rivers take their rise, whose head-waters furnished abundant beaver. here mr. ashley spent the summer, returning to st. louis in the fall with a valuable collection of skins. in , mr. ashley repeated the expedition, extending it this time beyond green river as far as great salt lake, near which to the south he discovered another smaller lake, which he named lake ashley, after himself. on the shores of this lake he built a fort for trading with the indians, and leaving in it about one hundred men, returned to st. louis the second time with a large amount of furs. during the time the fort was occupied by mr. ashley's men, a period of three years, more than one hundred and eighty thousand dollars worth of furs were collected and sent to st. louis. in , the fort, and all mr. ashley's interest in the business, was sold to the rocky mountain fur company, at the head of which were jedediah smith, william sublette, and david jackson, sublette being the leading spirit in the company. the custom of these enterprising traders, who had been in the mountains since , was to divide their force, each taking his command to a good hunting ground, and returning at stated times to rendezvous, generally appointed on the head-waters of green river. frequently the other fur companies, (for there were other companies formed on the heels of ashley's enterprise,) learning of the place appointed for the yearly rendezvous, brought their goods to the same resort, when an intense rivalry was exhibited by the several traders as to which company should soonest dispose of its goods, getting, of course, the largest amount of furs from the trappers and indians. so great was the competition in the years between and , when there were about six hundred american trappers in and about the rocky mountains, besides those of the hudson's bay company, that it was death for a man of one company to dispose of his furs to a rival association. even a "free trapper"--that is, one not indentured, but hunting upon certain terms of agreement concerning the price of his furs and the cost of his outfit, only, dared not sell to any other company than the one he had agreed with. jedediah smith, of the rocky mountain fur company, during their first year in the mountains, took a party of five trappers into oregon, being the first american, trader or other, to cross into that country since the breaking up of mr. astor's establishment. he trapped on the head-waters of the snake river until autumn, when he fell in with a party of hudson's bay trappers, and going with them to their post in the flathead country, wintered there. again, in , smith, sublette, and jackson, brought out a large number of men to trap in the snake river country, and entered into direct competition with the hudson's bay company, whom they opposed with hardly a degree more of zeal than they competed with rival american traders: this one extra degree being inspired by a "spirit of ' " toward anything british. after the rocky mountain fur company had extended its business by the purchase of mr. ashley's interest, the partners determined to push their enterprise to the pacific coast, regardless of the opposition they were likely to encounter from the hudson's bay traders. accordingly, in the spring of , the company was divided up into three parts, to be led separately, by different routes, into the indian territory, nearer the ocean. smith's route was from the platte river, southwards to santa fé, thence to the bay of san francisco, and thence along the coast to the columbia river. his party were successful, and had arrived in the autumn of the following year at the umpqua river, about two hundred miles south of the columbia, in safety. here one of those sudden reverses to which the "mountain-man" is liable at any moment, overtook him. his party at this time consisted of thirteen men, with their horses, and a collection of furs valued at twenty thousand dollars. arrived at the umpqua, they encamped for the night on its southern bank, unaware that the natives in this vicinity (the shastas) were more fierce and treacherous than the indolent tribes of california, for whom, probably, they had a great contempt. all went well until the following morning, the indians hanging about the camp, but apparently friendly. smith had just breakfasted, and was occupied in looking for a fording-place for the animals, being on a raft, and having with him a little englishman and one indian. when they were in the middle of the river the indian snatched smith's gun and jumped into the water. at the same instant a yell from the camp, which was in sight, proclaimed that it was attacked. quick as thought smith snatched the englishman's gun, and shot dead the indian in the river. to return to the camp was certain death. already several of his men had fallen; overpowered by numbers he could not hope that any would escape, and nothing was left him but flight. he succeeded in getting to the opposite shore with his raft before he could be intercepted, and fled with his companion, on foot and with only one gun, and no provisions, to the mountains that border the river. with great good fortune they were enabled to pass through the remaining two hundred miles of their journey without accident, though not without suffering, and reach fort vancouver in a destitute condition, where they were kindly cared for. of the men left in camp, only two escaped. one man named black defended himself until he saw an opportunity for flight, when he escaped to the cover of the woods, and finally to a friendly tribe farther north, near the coast, who piloted him to vancouver. the remaining man was one turner, of a very powerful frame, who was doing camp duty as cook on this eventful morning. when the indians rushed upon him he defended himself with a huge firebrand, or half-burnt poplar stick, with which he laid about him like sampson, killing four red-skins before he saw a chance of escape. singularly, for one in his extremity, he did escape, and also arrived at vancouver that winter. dr. mclaughlin received the unlucky trader and his three surviving men with every mark and expression of kindness, and entertained them through the winter. not only this, but he dispatched a strong, armed party to the scene of the disaster to punish the indians and recover the stolen goods; all of which was done at his own expense, both as an act of friendship toward his american rivals, and as necessary to the discipline which they everywhere maintained among the indians. should this offence go unpunished, the next attack might be upon one of his own parties going annually down into california. sir george simpson, the governor of the hudson's bay company, chanced to be spending the winter at vancouver. he offered to send smith to london the following summer, in the company's vessel, where he might dispose of his furs to advantage; but smith declined this offer, and finally sold his furs to dr. mclaughlin, and returned in the spring to the rocky mountains. on sublette's return from st. louis, in the summer of , with men and merchandise for the year's trade, he became uneasy on account of smith's protracted absence. according to a previous plan, he took a large party into the snake river country to hunt. among the recruits from st. louis was joseph l. meek, the subject of the narrative following this chapter. sublette not meeting with smith's party on its way from the columbia, as he still hoped, at length detailed a party to look for him on the head-waters of the snake. meek was one of the men sent to look for the missing partner, whom he discovered at length in pierre's hole, a deep valley in the mountains, from which issues the snake river in many living streams. smith returned with the men to camp, where the tale of his disasters was received after the manner of mountain-men, simply declaring with a momentarily sobered countenance, that their comrade has not been "in luck;" with which brief and equivocal expression of sympathy the subject is dismissed. to dwell on the dangers incident to their calling would be to half disarm themselves of their necessary courage; and it is only when they are gathered about the fire in their winter camp, that they indulge in tales of wild adventure and "hair-breadth 'scapes," or make sorrowful reference to a comrade lost. influenced by the hospitable treatment which smith had received at the hands of the hudson's bay company, the partners now determined to withdraw from competition with them in the snake country, and to trap upon the waters of the colorado, in the neighborhood of their fort. but "luck," the mountain-man's providence, seemed to have deserted smith. in crossing the colorado river with a considerable collection of skins, he was again attacked by indians, and only escaped by losing all his property. he then went to st. louis for a supply of merchandise, and fitted out a trading party for santa fé; but on his way to that place was killed in an encounter with the savages. turner, the man who so valiantly wielded the firebrand on the umpqua river, several years later met with a similar adventure on the rogue river, in southern oregon, and was the means of saving the lives of his party by his courage, strength, and alertness. he finally, when trapping had become unprofitable, retired upon a farm in the wallamet valley, as did many other mountain-men who survived the dangers of their perilous trade. after the death of smith, the rocky mountain fur company continued its operations under the command of bridger, fitzpatrick, and milton sublette, brother of william. in the spring of they received about two hundred recruits, and with little variation kept up their number of three or four hundred men for a period of eight or ten years longer, or until the beaver were hunted out of every nook and corner of the rocky mountains. previous to , there were in and about the rocky mountains, beside the "american" and "rocky mountain" companies, the st. louis company, and eight or ten "lone traders." among these latter were william sublette, robert campbell, j.o. pattie, mr. pilcher, col. charles bent, st. vrain, william bent, mr. gant, and mr. blackwell. all these companies and traders more or less frequently penetrated into the countries of new mexico, old mexico, sonora, and california; returning sometimes through the mountain regions of the latter state, by the humboldt river to the head-waters of the colorado. seldom, in all their journeys, did they intrude on that portion of the indian territory lying within three hundred miles of fort vancouver, or which forms the area of the present state of oregon. up to , the fur trade in the west had been chiefly conducted by merchants from the frontier cities, especially by those of st. louis. the old "north american" was the only exception. but in the spring of this year, captain bonneville, an united states officer on furlough, led a company of a hundred men, with a train of wagons, horses and mules, with merchandise, into the trapping grounds of the rocky mountains. his wagons were the first that had ever crossed the summit of these mountains, though william sublette had, two or three years previous, brought wagons as far as the valley of the wind river, on the east side of the range. captain bonneville remained nearly three years in the hunting and trapping grounds, taking parties of men into the colorado, humboldt, and sacramento valleys; but he realized no profits from his expedition, being opposed and competed with by both british and american traders of larger experience. but captain bonneville's venture was a fortunate one compared with that of mr. nathaniel wyeth of massachusetts, who also crossed the continent in , with the view of establishing a trade on the columbia river. mr. wyeth brought with him a small party of men, all inexperienced in frontier or mountain life, and destined for a salmon fishery on the columbia. he had reached independence, missouri, the last station before plunging into the wilderness, and found himself somewhat at a loss how to proceed, until, at this juncture, he was overtaken by the party of william sublette, from st. louis to the rocky mountains, with whom he travelled in company to the rendezvous at pierre's hole. when wyeth arrived at the columbia river, after tarrying until he had acquired some mountain experiences, he found that his vessel, which was loaded with merchandise for the columbia river trade, had not arrived. he remained at vancouver through the winter, the guest of the hudson's bay company, and either having learned or surmised that his vessel was wrecked, returned to the united states in the following year. not discouraged, however, he made another venture in , despatching the ship _may dacre_, captain lambert, for the columbia river, with another cargo of indian goods, traveling himself overland with a party of two hundred men, and a considerable quantity of merchandise which he expected to sell to the rocky mountain fur company. in this expectation he was defeated by william sublette, who had also brought out a large assortment of goods for the indian trade, and had sold out, supplying the market, before mr. wyeth arrived. wyeth then built a post, named fort hall, on snake river, at the junction of the portneuf, where he stored his goods, and having detached most of his men in trapping parties, proceeded to the columbia river to meet the _may dacre_. he reached the columbia about the same time with his vessel, and proceeded at once to erect a salmon fishery. to forward this purpose he built a post, called fort william, on the lower end of wappatoo (now known as sauvie's) island, near where the lower wallamet falls into the columbia. but for various reasons he found the business on which he had entered unprofitable. he had much trouble with the indians, his men were killed or drowned, so that by the time he had half a cargo of fish, he was ready to abandon the effort to establish a commerce with the oregon indians, and was satisfied that no enterprise less stupendous and powerful than that of the hudson's bay company could be long sustained in that country. much complaint was subsequently made by americans, chiefly missionaries, of the conduct of that company in not allowing mr. wyeth to purchase beaver skins of the indians, but mr. wyeth himself made no such complaint. personally, he was treated with unvarying kindness, courtesy, and hospitality. as a trader, they would not permit him to undersell them. in truth, they no doubt wished him away; because competition would soon ruin the business of either, and they liked not to have the indians taught to expect more than their furs were worth, nor to have the indians' confidence in themselves destroyed or tampered with. the hudson's bay company were hardly so unfriendly to him as the american companies; since to the former he was enabled to sell his goods and fort on the snake river, before he returned to the united states, which he did in . the sale of fort hall to the hudson's bay company was a finishing blow at the american fur trade in the rocky mountains, which after two or three years of constantly declining profits, was entirely abandoned. something of the dangers incident to the life of the hunter and trapper may be gathered from the following statements, made by various parties who have been engaged in it. in , a missouri company engaged in fur hunting on the three forks of the river missouri, were attacked by blackfeet, losing twenty-seven men, and being compelled to abandon the country. in , mr. ashley was attacked on the same river by the arickaras, and had twenty-six men killed. about the same time the missouri company lost seven men, and fifteen thousand dollars' worth of merchandise on the yellowstone river. a few years previous, major henry lost, on the missouri river, six men and fifty horses. in the sketch given of smith's trading adventures is shown how uncertain were life and property at a later period. of the two hundred men whom wyeth led into the indian country, only about forty were alive at the end of three years. there was, indeed, a constant state of warfare between the indians and the whites, wherever the american companies hunted, in which great numbers of both lost their lives. add to this cause of decimation the perils from wild beasts, famine, cold, and all manner of accidents, and the trapper's chance of life was about one in three. of the causes which have produced the enmity of the indians, there are about as many. it was found to be the case almost universally, that on the first visit of the whites the natives were friendly, after their natural fears had been allayed. but by degrees their cupidity was excited to possess themselves of the much coveted dress, arms, and goods of their visitors. as they had little or nothing to offer in exchange, which the white man considered an equivalent, they took the only method remaining of gratifying their desire of possession, and _stole_ the coveted articles which they could not purchase. when they learned that the white men punished theft, they murdered to prevent the punishment. often, also, they had wrongs of their own to avenge. white men did not always regard their property-rights. they were guilty of infamous conduct toward indian women. what one party of whites told them was true, another plainly contradicted, leaving the lie between them. they were overbearing toward the indians on their own soil, exciting to irrepressible hostility the natural jealousy of the inferior toward the superior race, where both are free, which characterizes all people. in short, the indians were not without their grievances; and from barbarous ignorance and wrong on one side, and intelligent wrong-doing on the other, together with the misunderstandings likely to arise between two entirely distinct races, grew constantly a thousand abuses, which resulted in a deadly enmity between the two. for several reasons this evil existed to a greater degree among the american traders and trappers than among the british. the american trapper was not, like the hudson's bay employees, bred to the business. oftener than any other way he was some wild youth who, after an _escapade_ in the society of his native place, sought safety from reproach or punishment in the wilderness. or he was some disappointed man who, with feelings embittered towards his fellows, preferred the seclusion of the forest and mountain. many were of a class disreputable everywhere, who gladly embraced a life not subject to social laws. a few were brave, independent, and hardy spirits, who delighted in the hardships and wild adventures their calling made necessary. all these men, the best with the worst, were subject to no will but their own; and all experience goes to prove that a life of perfect liberty is apt to degenerate into a life of license. even their own lives, and those of their companions, when it depended upon their own prudence, were but lightly considered. the constant presence of danger made them reckless. it is easy to conceive how, under these circumstances, the natives and the foreigners grew to hate each other, in the indian country; especially after the americans came to the determination to "shoot an indian at sight," unless he belonged to some tribe with whom they had intermarried, after the manner of the trappers. [illustration: watching for indian horse-thieves.] on the other hand, the employees of the hudson's bay company were many of them half-breeds or full-blooded indians of the iroquois nation, towards whom nearly all the tribes were kindly disposed. even the frenchmen who trapped for this company were well liked by the indians on account of their suavity of manner, and the ease with which they adapted themselves to savage life. besides most of them had native wives and half-breed children, and were regarded as relatives. they were trained to the life of a trapper, were subject to the will of the company, and were generally just and equitable in their dealings with the indians, according to that company's will, and the dictates of prudence. here was a wide difference. notwithstanding this, there were many dangers to be encountered. the hostility of some of the tribes could never be overcome; nor has it ever abated. such were the crows, the blackfeet, the cheyennes, the apaches, the camanches. only a superior force could compel the friendly offices of these tribes for any white man, and then their treachery was as dangerous as their open hostility. it happened, therefore, that although the hudson's bay company lost comparatively few men by the hands of the indians, they sometimes found them implacable foes in common with the american trappers; and frequently one party was very glad of the others' assistance. altogether, as has before been stated, the loss of life was immense in proportion to the number employed. very few of those who had spent years in the rocky mountains ever returned to the united states. with their indian wives and half-breed children, they scattered themselves throughout oregon, until when, a number of years after the abandonment of the fur trade, congress donated large tracts of land to actual settlers, they laid claim, each to his selected portion, and became active citizens of their adopted state. [illustration: map of the fur country.] a trapper and pioneer's life. chapter i. as has been stated in the introduction, joseph l. meek was a native of washington co., va. born in the early part of the present century, and brought up on a plantation where the utmost liberty was accorded to the "young massa;" preferring out-door sports with the youthful bondsmen of his father, to study with the bald-headed schoolmaster who furnished him the alphabet on a paddle; possessing an exhaustless fund of waggish humor, united to a spirit of adventure and remarkable personal strength, he unwittingly furnished in himself the very material of which the heroes of the wilderness were made. virginia, "the mother of presidents," has furnished many such men, who, in the early days of the now populous western states, became the hardy frontiers-men, or the fearless indian fighters who were the bone and sinew of the land. when young joe was about eighteen years of age, he wearied of the monotony of plantation life, and jumping into the wagon of a neighbor who was going to louisville, ky., started out in life for himself. he "reckoned they did not grieve for him at home;" at which conclusion others besides joe naturally arrive on hearing of his heedless disposition, and utter contempt for the ordinary and useful employments to which other men apply themselves. joe probably believed that should his father grieve for him, his step-mother would be able to console him; this step-mother, though a pious and good woman, not being one of the lad's favorites, as might easily be conjectured. it was such thoughts as these that kept up his resolution to seek the far west. in the autumn of he arrived in st. louis, and the following spring he fell in with mr. wm. sublette, of the rocky mountain fur company, who was making his annual visit to that frontier town to purchase merchandise for the indian country, and pick up recruits for the fur-hunting service. to this experienced leader he offered himself. [illustration: the enlistment.] "how old are you?" asked sublette. "a little past eighteen." "and you want to go to the rocky mountains?" "yes." "you don't know what you are talking about, boy. you'll be killed before you get half way there." "if i do, i reckon i can die!" said joe, with a flash of his fall dark eyes, and throwing back his shoulders to show their breadth. "come," exclaimed the trader, eyeing the youthful candidate with admiration, and perhaps a touch of pity also; "that is the game spirit. i think you'll do, after all. only be prudent, and keep your wits about you." "where else should they be?" laughed joe, as he marched off, feeling an inch or two taller than before. then commenced the business of preparing for the journey--making acquaintance with the other recruits--enjoying the novelty of owning an outfit, being initiated into the mysteries of camp duty by the few old hunters who were to accompany the expedition, and learning something of their swagger and disregard of civilized observances. on the th of march, , the company, numbering about sixty men, left st. louis, and proceeded on horses and mules, with pack-horses for the goods, up through the state of missouri. camp-life commenced at the start; and this being the season of the year when the weather is most disagreeable, its romance rapidly melted away with the snow and sleet which varied the sharp spring wind and the frequent cold rains. the recruits went through all the little mishaps incident to the business and to their inexperience, such as involuntary somersaults over the heads of their mules, bloody noses, bruises, dusty faces, bad colds, accidents in fording streams,--yet withal no very serious hurts or hindrances. rough weather and severe exercise gave them wolfish appetites, which sweetened the coarse camp-fare and amateur cooking. getting up at four o'clock of a march morning to kindle fires and attend to the animals was not the most delectable duty that our labor-despising young recruit could have chosen; but if he repented of the venture he had made nobody was the wiser. sleeping of stormy nights in corn-cribs or under sheds, could not be by any stretch of imagination converted into a highly romantic or heroic mode of lodging one's self. the squalid manner of living of the few inhabitants of missouri at this period, gave a forlorn aspect to the country which is lacking in the wilderness itself;--a thought which sometimes occurred to joe like a hope for the future. mountain-fare he began to think must be better than the boiled corn and pork of the missourians. antelope and buffalo meat were more suitable viands for a hunter than coon and opossum. thus those very duties which seemed undignified, and those hardships without danger or glory, which marked the beginning of his career made him ambitious of a more free and hazardous life on the plains and in the mountains. among the recruits was a young man not far from joe's own age, named robert newell, from ohio. one morning, when the company was encamped near boonville, the two young men were out looking for their mules, when they encountered an elderly woman returning from the milking yard with a gourd of milk. newell made some remark on the style of vessel she carried, when she broke out in a sharp voice,-- "young chap, i'll bet you run off from your mother! who'll mend them holes in the elbow of your coat? you're a purty looking chap to go to the mountains, among them injuns! they'll _kill_ you. you'd better go back home!" considering that these frontier people knew what indian fighting was, this was no doubt sound and disinterested advice, notwithstanding it was given somewhat sharply. and so the young men felt it to be; but it was not in the nature of either of them to turn back from a course because there was danger in it. the thought of home, and somebody to mend their coats, was, however, for the time strongly presented. but the company moved on, with undiminished numbers, stared at by the few inhabitants, and having their own little adventures, until they came to independence, the last station before committing themselves to the wilderness. at this place, which contained a dwelling-house, cotton-gin, and grocery, the camp tarried for a few days to adjust the packs, and prepare for a final start across the plains. on sunday the settlers got together for a shooting-match, in which some of the travelers joined, without winning many laurels. coon-skins, deer-skins, and bees-wax changed hands freely among the settlers, whose skill with the rifle was greater than their hoard of silver dollars. this was the last vestige of civilization which the company could hope to behold for years; and rude as it was, yet won from them many a parting look as they finally took their way across the plains toward the arkansas river. often on this part of the march a dead silence fell upon the party, which remained unbroken for miles of the way. many no doubt were regretting homes by them abandoned, or wondering dreamily how many and whom of that company would ever see the missouri country again. many indeed went the way the woman of the gourd had prophesied; but not the hero of this story, nor his comrade newell. the route of captain sublette led across the country from near the mouth of the kansas river to the river arkansas; thence to the south fork of the platte; thence on to the north fork of that river, to where ft. laramie now stands; thence up the north fork to the sweetwater, and thence across in a still northwesterly direction to the head of wind river. the manner of camp-travel is now so well known through the writings of irving, and still more from the great numbers which have crossed the plains since _astoria_ and _bonneville_ were written, that it would be superfluous here to enter upon a particular description of a train on that journey. a strict half-military discipline had to be maintained, regular duties assigned to each person, precautions taken against the loss of animals either by straying or indian stampeding, etc. some of the men were appointed as camp-keepers, who had all these things to look after, besides standing guard. a few were selected as hunters, and these were free to come and go, as their calling required. none but the most experienced were chosen for hunters, on a march; therefore our recruit could not aspire to that dignity yet. the first adventure the company met with worthy of mention after leaving independence, was in crossing the country between the arkansas and the platte. here the camp was surprised one morning by a band of indians a thousand strong, that came sweeping down upon them in such warlike style that even captain sublette was fain to believe it his last battle. upon the open prairie there is no such thing as flight, nor any cover under which to conceal a party even for a few moments. it is always fight or die, if the assailants are in the humor for war. happily on this occasion the band proved to be more peaceably disposed than their appearance indicated, being the warriors of several tribes--the sioux, arapahoes, kiowas, and cheyennes, who had been holding a council to consider probably what mischief they could do to some other tribes. the spectacle they presented as they came at full speed on horseback, armed, painted, brandishing their weapons, and yelling in first-rate indian style, was one which might well strike with a palsy the stoutest heart and arm. what were a band of sixty men against a thousand armed warriors in full fighting trim, with spears, shields, bows, battle-axes, and not a few guns? but it is the rule of the mountain-men to _fight_--and that there is a chance for life until the breath is out of the body; therefore captain sublette had his little force drawn up in line of battle. on came the savages, whooping and swinging their weapons above their heads. sublette turned to his men. "when you hear my shot, then fire." still they came on, until within about fifty paces of the line of waiting men. sublette turned his head, and saw his command with their guns all up to their faces ready to fire, then raised his own gun. just at this moment the principal chief sprang off his horse and laid his weapon on the ground, making signs of peace. then followed a talk, and after the giving of a considerable present, sublette was allowed to depart. this he did with all dispatch, the company putting as much distance as possible between themselves and their visitors before making their next camp. considering the warlike character of these tribes and their superior numbers, it was as narrow an escape on the part of the company as it was an exceptional freak of generosity on the part of the savages to allow it. but indians have all a great respect for a man who shows no fear; and it was most probably the warlike movement of captain sublette and his party which inspired a willingness on the part of the chief to accept a present, when he had the power to have taken the whole train. besides, according to indian logic, the present cost him nothing, and it might cost him many warriors to capture the train. had there been the least wavering on sublette's part, or fear in the countenances of his men, the end of the affair would have been different. this adventure was a grand initiation of the raw recruits, giving them both an insight into savage modes of attack, and an opportunity to test their own nerve. the company proceeded without accident, and arrived, about the first of july, at the rendezvous, which was appointed for this year on the popo agie, one of the streams which form the head-waters of bighorn river. now, indeed, young joe had an opportunity of seeing something of the life upon which he had entered. as customary, when the traveling partner arrived at rendezvous with the year's merchandise, there was a meeting of all the partners, if they were within reach of the appointed place. on this occasion smith was absent on his tour through california and western oregon, as has been related in the prefatory chapter. jackson, the resident partner, and commander for the previous year, was not yet in; and sublette had just arrived with the goods from st. louis. all the different hunting and trapping parties and indian allies were gathered together, so that the camp contained several hundred men, with their riding and pack-horses. nor were indian women and children wanting to give variety and an appearance of domesticity to the scene. [illustration: _the summer rendezvous._] the summer rendezvous was always chosen in some valley where there was grass for the animals, and game for the camp. the plains along the popo agie, besides furnishing these necessary bounties, were bordered by picturesque mountain ranges, whose naked bluffs of red sandstone glowed in the morning and evening sun with a mellowness of coloring charming to the eye of the virginia recruit. the waving grass of the plain, variegated with wild flowers; the clear summer heavens flecked with white clouds that threw soft shadows in passing; the grazing animals scattered about the meadows; the lodges of the _booshways_,[a] around which clustered the camp in motley garb and brilliant coloring; gay laughter, and the murmur of soft indian voices, all made up a most spirited and enchanting picture, in which the eye of an artist could not fail to delight. [a] leaders or chiefs--corrupted from the french of bourgeois, and borrowed from the canadians. but as the goods were opened the scene grew livelier. all were eager to purchase, most of the trappers to the full amount of their year's wages; and some of them, generally free trappers, went in debt to the company to a very considerable amount, after spending the value of a year's labor, privation, and danger, at the rate of several hundred dollars in a single day. the difference between a hired and a free trapper was greatly in favor of the latter. the hired trapper was regularly indentured, and bound not only to hunt and trap for his employers, but also to perform any duty required of him in camp. the booshway, or the trader, or the partisan, (leader of the detachment,) had him under his command, to make him take charge of, load and unload the horses, stand guard, cook, hunt fuel, or, in short, do any and every duty. in return for this toilsome service he received an outfit of traps, arms and ammunition, horses, and whatever his service required. besides his outfit, he received no more than three or four hundred dollars a year as wages. there was also a class of free trappers, who were furnished with their outfit by the company they trapped for, and who were obliged to agree to a certain stipulated price for their furs before the hunt commenced. but the genuine free trapper regarded himself as greatly the superior of either of the foregoing classes. he had his own horses and accoutrements, arms and ammunition. he took what route he thought fit, hunted and trapped when and where he chose; traded with the indians; sold his furs to whoever offered highest for them; dressed flauntingly, and generally had an indian wife and half-breed children. they prided themselves on their hardihood and courage; even on their recklessness and profligacy. each claimed to own the best horse; to have had the wildest adventures; to have made the most narrow escapes; to have killed the greatest number of bears and indians; to be the greatest favorite with the indian belles, the greatest consumer of alcohol, and to have the most money to spend, _i. e._ the largest credit on the books of the company. if his hearers did not believe him, he was ready to run a race with him, to beat him at "old sledge," or to fight, if fighting was preferred,--ready to prove what he affirmed in any manner the company pleased. if the free trapper had a wife, she moved with the camp to which he attached himself, being furnished with a fine horse, caparisoned in the gayest and costliest manner. her dress was of the finest goods the market afforded, and was suitably ornamented with beads, ribbons, fringes, and feathers. her rank, too, as a free trapper's wife, gave her consequence not only in her own eyes, but in those of her tribe, and protected her from that slavish drudgery to which as the wife of an indian hunter or warrior she would have been subject. the only authority which the free trapper acknowledged was that of his indian spouse, who generally ruled in the lodge, however her lord blustered outside. one of the free trapper's special delights was to take in hand the raw recruits, to gorge their wonder with his boastful tales, and to amuse himself with shocking his pupil's civilized notions of propriety. joe meek did not escape this sort of "breaking in;" and if it should appear in the course of this narrative that he proved an apt scholar, it will but illustrate a truth--that high spirits and fine talents tempt the tempter to win them over to his ranks. but joe was not won over all at once. he beheld the beautiful spectacle of the encampment as it has been described, giving life and enchantment to the summer landscape, changed into a scene of the wildest carousal, going from bad to worse, until from harmless noise and bluster it came to fighting and loss of life. at this first rendezvous he was shocked to behold the revolting exhibition of four trappers playing at a game of cards with the dead body of a comrade for a card-table! such was the indifference to all the natural and ordinary emotions which these veterans of the wilderness cultivated in themselves, and inculcated in those who came under their influence. scenes like this at first had the effect to bring feelings of home-sickness, while it inspired by contrast a sort of penitential and religious feeling also. according to meek's account of those early days in the mountains, he said some secret prayers, and shed some secret tears. but this did not last long. the force of example, and especially the force of ridicule, is very potent with the young; nor are we quite free from their influence later in life. if the gambling, swearing, drinking, and fighting at first astonished and alarmed the unsophisticated joe, he found at the same time something to admire, and that he felt to be congenial with his own disposition, in the fearlessness, the contempt of sordid gain, the hearty merriment and frolicsome abandon of the better portion of the men about him. a spirit of emulation arose in him to become as brave as the bravest, as hardy as the hardiest, and as gay as the gayest, even while his feelings still revolted at many things which his heroic models were openly guilty of. if at any time in the future course of this narrative, joe is discovered to have taken leave of his early scruples, the reader will considerately remember the associations by which he was surrounded for years, until the memory of the pious teachings of his childhood was nearly, if not quite, obliterated. to "nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice," should be the frame of mind in which both the writer and reader of joe's adventures should strive to maintain himself. before our hero is ushered upon the active scenes of a trapper's life, it may be well to present to the reader a sort of _guide to camp life_, in order that he may be able to understand some of its technicalities, as they may be casually mentioned hereafter. when the large camp is on the march, it has a leader, generally one of the booshways, who rides in advance, or at the head of the column. near him is a led mule, chosen for its qualities of speed and trustworthiness, on which are packed two small trunks that balance each other like panniers, and which contain the company's books, papers, and articles of agreement with the men. then follow the pack animals, each one bearing three packs--one on each side, and one on top--so nicely adjusted as not to slip in traveling. these are in charge of certain men called camp-keepers, who have each three of these to look after. the trappers and hunters have two horses, or mules, one to ride, and one to pack their traps. if there are women and children in the train, all are mounted. where the country is safe, the caravan moves in single file, often stretching out for half or three-quarters of a mile. at the end of the column rides the second man, or "little booshway," as the men call him; usually a hired officer, whose business it is to look after the order and condition of the whole camp. [illustration: mule packing.] on arriving at a suitable spot to make the night camp, the leader stops, dismounts in the particular space which is to be devoted to himself in its midst. the others, as they come up, form a circle; the "second man" bringing up the rear, to be sure all are there. he then proceeds to appoint every man a place in the circle, and to examine the horses' backs to see if any are sore. the horses are then turned out, under a guard, to graze; but before darkness comes on are placed inside the ring, and picketed by a stake driven in the earth, or with two feet so tied together as to prevent easy or free locomotion. the men are divided into messes: so many trappers and so many camp-keepers to a mess. the business of eating is not a very elaborate one, where the sole article of diet is meat, either dried or roasted. by a certain hour all is quiet in camp, and only the guard is awake. at times during the night, the leader, or the officer of the guard, gives the guard a challenge--"all's well!" which is answered by "all's well!" in the morning at daylight, or sometimes not till sunrise, according to the safe or dangerous locality, the second man comes forth from his lodge and cries in french, "_leve, leve, leve, leve, leve!_" fifteen or twenty times, which is the command to rise. in about five minutes more he cries out again, in french, "_leche lego, leche lego!_" or turn out, turn out; at which command all come out from the lodges, and the horses are turned loose to feed; but not before a horseman has galloped all round the camp at some distance, and discovered every thing to be safe in the neighborhood. again, when the horses have been sufficiently fed, under the eye of a guard, they are driven up, the packs replaced, the train mounted, and once more it moves off, in the order before mentioned. in a settled camp, as in winter, there are other regulations. the leader and the second man occupy the same relative positions; but other minor regulations are observed. the duty of a trapper, for instance, in the trapping season, is only to trap, and take care of his own horses. when he comes in at night, he takes his beaver to the clerk, and the number is counted off, and placed to his credit. not he, but the camp-keepers, take off the skins and dry them. in the winter camp there are six persons to a lodge: four trappers and two camp-keepers; therefore the trappers are well waited upon, their only duty being to hunt, in turns, for the camp. when a piece of game is brought in,--a deer, an antelope, or buffalo meat,--it is thrown down on the heap which accumulates in front of the booshway's lodge; and the second man stands by and cuts it up, or has it cut up for him. the first man who chances to come along, is ordered to stand still and turn his back to the pile of game, while the "little booshway" lays hold of a piece that has been cut off, and asks in a loud voice--"who will have this?"--and the man answering for him, says, "the booshway," or perhaps "number six," or "number twenty"--meaning certain messes; and the number is called to come and take their meat. in this blind way the meat is portioned off; strongly reminding one of the game of "button, button, who has the button?" in this chance game of the meat, the booshway fares no better than his men; unless, in rare instances, the little booshway should indicate to the man who calls off, that a certain choice piece is designed for the mess of the leader or the second man. a gun is never allowed to be fired in camp under any provocation, short of an indian raid; but the guns are frequently inspected, to see if they are in order; and woe to the careless camp-keeper who neglects this or any other duty. when the second man comes around, and finds a piece of work imperfectly done, whether it be cleaning the firearms, making a hair rope, or a skin lodge, or washing a horse's back, he does not threaten the offender with personal chastisement, but calls up another man and asks him, "can _you_ do this properly?" "yes, sir." "i will give you ten dollars to do it;" and the ten dollars is set down to the account of the inefficient camp-keeper. but he does not risk forfeiting another ten dollars in the same manner. in the spring, when the camp breaks up, the skins which have been used all winter for lodges are cut up to make moccasins: because from their having been thoroughly smoked by the lodge fires they do not shrink in wetting, like raw skins. this is an important quality in a moccasin, as a trapper is almost constantly in the water, and should not his moccasins be smoked they will close upon his feet, in drying, like a vice. sometimes after trapping all day, the tired and soaked trapper lies down in his blankets at night, still wet. but by-and-by he is wakened by the pinching of his moccasins, and is obliged to rise and seek the water again to relieve himself of the pain. for the same reason, when spring comes, the trapper is forced to cut off the lower half of his buckskin breeches, and piece them down with blanket leggins, which he wears all through the trapping season. such were a few of the peculiarities, and the hardships also, of a life in the rocky mountains. if the camp discipline, and the dangers and hardships to which a raw recruit was exposed, failed to harden him to the service in one year, he was rejected as a "trifling fellow," and sent back to the settlement the next year. it was not probable, therefore, that the mountain-man often was detected in complaining at his lot. if he was miserable, he was laughed at; and he soon learned to laugh at his own miseries, as well as to laugh back at his comrades. chapter ii. the business of the rendezvous occupied about a month. in this period the men, indian allies, and other indian parties who usually visited the camp at this time, were all supplied with goods. the remaining merchandise was adjusted for the convenience of the different traders who should be sent out through all the country traversed by the company. sublette then decided upon their routes, dividing up his forces into camps, which took each its appointed course, detaching as it proceeded small parties of trappers to all the hunting grounds in the neighborhood. these smaller camps were ordered to meet at certain times and places, to report progress, collect and cache their furs, and "count noses." if certain parties failed to arrive, others were sent out in search for them. this year, in the absence of smith and jackson, a considerable party was dispatched, under milton sublette, brother of the captain, and two other free trappers and traders, frapp and jervais, to traverse the country down along the bighorn river. captain sublette took a large party, among whom was joe meek, across the mountains to trap on the snake river, in opposition to the hudson's bay company. the rocky mountain fur company had hitherto avoided this country, except when smith had once crossed to the head-waters of the snake with a small party of five trappers. but smith and sublette had determined to oppose themselves to the british traders who occupied so large an extent of territory presumed to be american; and it had been agreed between them to meet this year on snake river on sublette's return from st. louis, and smith's from his california tour. what befel smith's party before reaching the columbia, has already been related; also his reception by the hudson's bay company, and his departure from vancouver. sublette led his company up the valley of the wind river, across the mountains, and on to the very head-waters of the lewis or snake river. here he fell in with jackson, in the valley of lewis lake, called jackson's hole, and remained on the borders of this lake for some time, waiting for smith, whose non-appearance began to create a good deal of uneasiness. at length runners were dispatched in all directions looking for the lost booshway. the detachment to which meek was assigned had the pleasure and honor of discovering the hiding place of the missing partner, which was in pierre's hole, a mountain valley about thirty miles long and of half that width, which subsequently was much frequented by the camps of the various fur companies. he was found trapping and exploring, in company with four men only, one of whom was black, who with him escaped from the umpqua indians, as before related. notwithstanding the excitement and elation attendant upon the success of his party, meek found time to admire the magnificent scenery of the valley, which is bounded on two sides by broken and picturesque ranges, and overlooked by that magnificent group of mountains, called the three tetons, towering to a height of fourteen thousand feet. this emerald cup set in its rim of amethystine mountains, was so pleasant a sight to the mountain-men that camp was moved to it without delay, where it remained until some time in september, recruiting its animals and preparing for the fall hunt. here again the trappers indulged in their noisy sports and rejoicing, ostensibly on account of the return of the long-absent booshway. there was little said of the men who had perished in that unfortunate expedition. "poor fellow! out of luck;" was the usual burial rite which the memory of a dead comrade received. so much and no more. they could indulge in noisy rejoicings over a lost comrade restored; but the dead one was not mentioned. nor was this apparently heartless and heedless manner so irrational or unfeeling as it seemed. everybody understood one thing in the mountains--that he must keep his life by his own courage and valor, or at the least by his own prudence. unseen dangers always lay in wait for him. the arrow or tomahawk of the indian, the blow of the grizzly bear, the mis-step on the dizzy or slippery height, the rush of boiling and foaming floods, freezing cold, famine--these were the most common forms of peril, yet did not embrace even then all the forms in which death sought his victims in the wilderness. the avoidance of painful reminders, such as the loss of a party of men, was a natural instinct, involving also a principle of self defence--since to have weak hearts would be the surest road to defeat in the next dangerous encounter. to keep their hearts "big," they must be gay, they must not remember the miserable fate of many of their one-time comrades. think of that, stern moralist and martinet in propriety! your fur collar hangs in the gas-lighted hall. in your luxurious dressing gown and slippers, by the warmth of a glowing grate, you muse upon the depravity of your fellow men. but imagine yourself, if you can, in the heart of an interminable wilderness. let the snow be three or four feet deep, game scarce, indians on your track: escaped from these dangers, once more beside a camp fire, with a roast of buffalo meat on a stick before it, and several of your companions similarly escaped, and destined for the same chances to-morrow, around you. do you fancy you should give much time to lamenting the less lucky fellows who were left behind frozen, starved, or scalped? not you. you would be fortifying yourself against to-morrow, when the same terrors might lay in wait for you. jedediah smith was a pious man; one of the few that ever resided in the rocky mountains, and led a band of reckless trappers; but he did not turn back to his camp when he saw it attacked on the umpqua, nor stop to lament his murdered men. the law of self-preservation is strong in the wilderness. "keep up your heart to-day, for to-morrow you may die," is the motto of the trapper. in the conference which took place between smith and sublette, the former insisted that on account of the kind services of the hudson's bay company toward himself and the three other survivors of his party, they should withdraw their trappers and traders from the western side of the mountains for the present, so as not to have them come in conflict with those of that company. to this proposition sublette reluctantly consented, and orders were issued for moving once more to the east, before going into winter camp, which was appointed for the wind river valley. in the meantime joe meek was sent out with a party to take his first hunt for beaver as a hired trapper. the detachment to which he belonged traveled down pierre's fork, the stream which watered the valley of pierre's hole, to its junction with lewis' and henry's forks where they unite to form the great snake river. while trapping in this locality the party became aware of the vicinity of a roving band of blackfeet, and in consequence, redoubled their usual precautions while on the march. the blackfeet were the tribe most dreaded in the rocky mountains, and went by the name of "bugs boys," which rendered into good english, meant "the devil's own." they are now so well known that to mention their characteristics seems like repeating a "twice-told tale;" but as they will appear so often in this narrative, irving's account of them as he had it from bonneville when he was fresh from the mountains, will, after all, not be out of place. "these savages," he says, "are the most dangerous banditti of the mountains, and the inveterate foe of the trapper. they are ishmaelites of the first order, always with weapon in hand, ready for action. the young braves of the tribe, who are destitute of property, go to war for booty; to gain horses, and acquire the means of setting up a lodge, supporting a family, and entitling themselves to a seat in the public councils. the veteran warriors fight merely for the love of the thing, and the consequence which success gives them among their people. they are capital horsemen, and are generally well mounted on short, stout horses, similar to the prairie ponies, to be met with in st. louis. when on a war party, however, they go on foot, to enable them to skulk through the country with greater secrecy; to keep in thickets and ravines, and use more adroit subterfuges and stratagems. their mode of warfare is entirely by ambush, surprise, and sudden assaults in the night time. if they succeed in causing a panic, they dash forward with headlong fury; if the enemy is on the alert, and shows no signs of fear, they become wary and deliberate in their movements. "some of them are armed in the primitive style, with bows and arrows; the greater part have american fusees, made after the fashion of those of the hudson's bay company. these they procure at the trading post of the american fur company, on maria's river, where they traffic their peltries for arms, ammunition, clothing, and trinkets. they are extremely fond of spirituous liquors and tobacco, for which nuisances they are ready to exchange, not merely their guns and horses, but even their wives and daughters. as they are a treacherous race, and have cherished a lurking hostility to the whites, ever since one of their tribe was killed by mr. lewis, the associate of general clarke, in his exploring expedition across the rocky mountains, the american fur company is obliged constantly to keep at their post a garrison of sixty or seventy men." "under the general name of blackfeet are comprehended several tribes, such as the surcies, the peagans, the blood indians, and the gros ventres of the prairies, who roam about the southern branches of the yellowstone and missouri rivers, together with some other tribes further north. the bands infesting the wind river mountains, and the country adjacent, at the time of which we are treating, were gros ventres _of the prairies_, which are not to be confounded with the gros ventres _of the missouri_, who keep about the _lower_ part of that river, and are friendly to the white men." "this hostile band keeps about the head-waters of the missouri, and numbers about nine hundred fighting men. once in the course of two or three years they abandon their usual abodes and make a visit to the arapahoes of the arkansas. their route lies either through the crow country, and the black hills, or through the lands of the nez perces, flatheads, bannacks, and shoshonies. as they enjoy their favorite state of hostility with all these tribes, their expeditions are prone to be conducted in the most lawless and predatory style; nor do they hesitate to extend their maraudings to any party of white men they meet with, following their trail, hovering about their camps, waylaying and dogging the caravans of the free traders, and murdering the solitary trapper. the consequences are frequent and desperate fights between them and the mountaineers, in the wild defiles and fastnesses of the rocky mountains." such were the blackfeet at the period of which we are writing; nor has their character changed at this day, as many of the montana miners know to their cost. chapter iii. . sublette's camp commenced moving back to the east side of the rocky mountains in october. its course was up henry's fork of the snake river, through the north pass to missouri lake, in which rises the madison fork of the missouri river. the beaver were very plenty on henry's fork, and our young trapper had great success in making up his packs; having learned the art of setting his traps very readily. the manner in which the trapper takes his game is as follows:-- he has an ordinary steel trap weighing five pounds, attached to a chain five feet long, with a swivel and ring at the end, which plays round what is called the _float_, a dry stick of wood, about six feet long. the trapper wades out into the stream, which is shallow, and cuts with his knife a bed for the trap, five or six inches under water. he then takes the float out the whole length of the chain in the direction of the centre of the stream, and drives it into the mud, so fast that the beaver cannot draw it out; at the same time tying the other end by a thong to the bank. a small stick or twig, dipped in musk or castor, serves for bait, and is placed so as to hang directly above the trap, which is now set. the trapper then throws water plentifully over the adjacent bank to conceal any foot prints or scent by which the beaver would be alarmed, and going to some distance wades out of the stream. in setting a trap, several things are to be observed with care:--first, that the trap is firmly fixed, and the proper distance from the bank--for if the beaver can get on shore with the trap, he will cut off his foot to escape: secondly, that the float is of dry wood, for should it not be, the little animal will cut it off at a stroke, and swimming with the trap to the middle of the dam, be drowned by its weight. in the latter case, when the hunter visits his traps in the morning, he is under the necessity of plunging into the water and swimming out to dive for the missing trap, and his game. should the morning be frosty and chill, as it very frequently is in the mountains, diving for traps is not the pleasantest exercise. in placing the bait, care must be taken to fix it just where the beaver in reaching it will spring the trap. if the bait-stick be placed high, the hind foot of the beaver will be caught: if low, his fore foot. the manner in which the beavers make their dam, and construct their lodge, has long been reckoned among the wonders of the animal creation; and while some observers have claimed for the little creature more sagacity than it really possesses, its instinct is still sufficiently wonderful. it is certainly true that it knows how to keep the water of a stream to a certain level, by means of an obstruction; and that it cuts down trees for the purpose of backing up the water by a dam. it is not true, however, that it can always fell a tree in the direction required for this purpose. the timber about a beaver dam is felled in all directions; but as trees that grow near the water, generally lean towards it, the tree, when cut, takes the proper direction by gravitation alone. the beaver then proceeds to cut up the fallen timber into lengths of about three feet, and to convey them to the spot where the dam is to be situated, securing them in their places by means of mud and stones. the work is commenced when the water is low, and carried on as it rises, until it has attained the desired height. and not only is it made of the requisite height and strength, but its shape is suited exactly to the nature of the stream in which it is built. if the water is sluggish the dam is straight; if rapid and turbulent, the barrier is constructed of a convex form, the better to resist the action of the water. [illustration: beaver-dam.] when the beavers have once commenced a dam, its extent and thickness are continually augmented, not only by their labors, but by accidental accumulations; thus accommodating itself to the size of the growing community. at length, after a lapse of many years, the water being spread over a considerable tract, and filled up by yearly accumulations of drift-wood and earth, seeds take root in the new made ground, and the old beaver-dams become green meadows, or thickets of cotton-wood and willow. the food on which the beaver subsists, is the bark of the young trees in its neighborhood; and when laying up a winter store, the whole community join in the labor of selecting, cutting up, and carrying the strips to their store-houses under water. they do not, as some writers have affirmed, when cutting wood for a dam strip off the bark and store it in their lodges for winter consumption; but only carry under water the stick with the bark on. "the beaver has two incisors and eight molars in each jaw; and empty hollows where the canine teeth might be. the upper pair of cutting teeth extend far into the jaw, with a curve of rather more than a semicircle; and the lower pair of incisors form rather less than a semicircle. sometimes, one of these teeth gets broken and then the opposite tooth continues growing until it forms a nearly complete circle. the chewing muscle of the beaver is strengthened by tendons in such a way as to give it great power. but more is needed to enable the beaver to eat wood. the insalivation of the dry food is provided for by the extraordinary size of the salivary glands. "now, every part of these instruments is of vital importance to the beavers. the loss of an incisor involves the formation of an obstructive circular tooth; deficiency of saliva renders the food indigestible; and when old age comes and the enamel is worn down faster than it is renewed, the beaver is not longer able to cut branches for its support. old, feeble and poor, unable to borrow, and ashamed to beg, he steals cuttings, and subjects himself to the penalty assigned to theft. aged beavers are often found dead with gashes in their bodies, showing that they have been killed by their mates. in the fall of , a very aged beaver was caught in one of the dams of the esconawba river, and this was the reflection of a great authority on the occasion, one ah-she-goes, an ojibwa trapper: 'had he escaped the trap he would have been killed before the winter was over, by other beavers, for stealing cuttings.' "when the beavers are about two or three years old, their teeth are in their best condition for cutting. on the upper missouri, they cut the cotton tree and the willow bush; around hudson's bay and lake superior, in addition to the willow they cut the poplar and maple, hemlock, spruce and pine. the cutting is round and round, and deepest upon the side on which they wish the tree to fall. indians and trappers have seen beavers cutting trees. the felling of a tree is a family affair. no more than a single pair with two or three young ones are engaged at a time. the adults take the cutting in turns, one gnawing and the other watching; and occasionally a youngster trying his incisors. the beaver whilst gnawing sits on his plantigrade hind legs, which keep him conveniently upright. when the tree begins to crackle the beavers work cautiously, and when it crashes down they plunge into the pond, fearful lest the noise should attract an enemy to the spot. after the tree-fall, comes the lopping of the branches. a single tree may be winter provision for a family. branches five or six inches thick have to be cut into proper lengths for transport, and are then taken home." the lodge of a beaver is generally about six feet in diameter, on the inside, and about half as high. they are rounded or dome-shaped on the outside, with very thick walls, and communicate with the land by subterranean passages, below the depth at which the water freezes in winter. each lodge is made to accommodate several inmates, who have their beds ranged round the walls, much as the indian does in his tent. they are very cleanly, too, and after eating, carry out the sticks that have been stripped, and either use them in repairing their dam, or throw them into the stream below. during the summer months the beavers abandon their lodges, and disport themselves about the streams, sometimes going on long journeys; or if any remain at home, they are the mothers of young families. about the last of august the community returns to its home, and begins preparations for the domestic cares of the long winter months. an exception to this rule is that of certain individuals, who have no families, make no dam, and never live in lodges, but burrow in subterranean tunnels. they are always found to be males, whom the french trappers call "les parasseux," or idlers; and the american trappers, "bachelors." several of them are sometimes found in one abode, which the trappers facetiously denominate "bachelor's hall." being taken with less difficulty than the more domestic beaver, the trapper is always glad to come upon their habitations. the trapping season is usually in the spring and autumn. but should the hunters find it necessary to continue their work in winter, they capture the beaver by sounding on the ice until an aperture is discovered, when the ice is cut away and the opening closed up. returning to the bank, they search for the subterranean passage, tracing its connection with the lodge; and by patient watching succeed in catching the beaver on some of its journeys between the water and the land. this, however, is not often resorted to when the hunt in the fall has been successful; or when not urged by famine to take the beaver for food. "occasionally it happens," says captain bonneville, "that several members of a beaver family are trapped in succession. the survivors then become extremely shy, and can scarcely be "brought to medicine," to use the trappers' phrase for "taking the bait." in such case, the trapper gives up the use of the bait, and conceals his traps in the usual paths and crossing places of the household. the beaver being now completely "up to trap," approaches them cautiously, and springs them, ingeniously, with a stick. at other times, he turns the traps bottom upwards, by the same means, and occasionally even drags them to the barrier, and conceals them in the mud. the trapper now gives up the contest of ingenuity, and shouldering his traps, marches off, admitting that he is not yet "up to beaver." before the camp moved from the forks of the snake river, the haunting blackfeet made their appearance openly. it was here that meek had his first battle with that nation, with whom he subsequently had many a savage contest. they attacked the camp early in the morning, just as the call to turn out had sounded. but they had miscalculated their opportunity: the design having evidently been to stampede the horses and mules, at the hour and moment of their being turned loose to graze. they had been too hasty by a few minutes, so that when they charged on the camp pell-mell, firing a hundred guns at once, to frighten both horses and men, it happened that only a few of the animals had been turned out, and they had not yet got far off. the noise of the charge only turned them back to camp. in an instant's time, fitzpatrick was mounted, and commanding the men to follow, he galloped at headlong speed round and round the camp, to drive back such of the horses as were straying, or had been frightened from their pickets. in this race, two horses were shot under him; but he escaped, and the camp-horses were saved. the battle now was to punish the thieves. they took their position, as usual with indian fighters, in a narrow ravine; from whence the camp was forced to dislodge them, at a great disadvantage. this they did do, at last, after six hours of hard fighting, in which a few men were wounded, but none killed. the thieves skulked off, through the canyon, when they found themselves defeated, and were seen no more until the camp came to the woods which cover the western slope of the rocky mountains. but as the camp moved eastward, or rather in a northeasterly direction, through the pine forests between pierre's hole and the head-waters of the missouri, it was continually harrassed by blackfeet, and required a strong guard at night, when these marauders delighted to make an attack. the weather by this time was very cold in the mountains, and chilled the marrow of our young virginian. the travel was hard, too, and the recruits pretty well worn out. one cold night, meek was put on guard on the further side of the camp, with a veteran named reese. but neither the veteran nor the youngster could resist the approaches of "tired nature's sweet restorer," and went to sleep at their post of duty. when, during the night, sublette came out of his tent and gave the challenge--"all's well!" there was no reply. to quote meek's own language, "sublette came round the horse-pen swearing and snorting. he was powerful mad. before he got to where reese was, he made so much noise that he waked him; and reese, in a loud whisper, called to him, 'down, billy! indians!' sublette got down on his belly mighty quick. 'whar? whar?' he asked. "'they were right there when you hollered so,' said reese. "'where is meek?' whispered sublette. "'he is trying to shoot one,' answered reese, still in a whisper. "reese then crawled over to whar i war, and told me what had been said, and informed me what to do. in a few minutes i crept cautiously over to reese's post, when sublette asked me how many indians had been thar, and i told him i couldn't make out their number. in the morning a pair of indian moccasins war found whar reese _saw the indians_, which i had _taken care to leave there_; and thus confirmed, our story got us the credit of vigilance, instead of our receiving our just dues for neglect of duty." it was sometime during the fall hunt in the pine woods, on the west side of the rocky mountains, that meek had one of his earliest adventures with a bear. two comrades, craig and nelson, and himself, while out trapping, left their horses, and traveled up a creek on foot, in search of beaver. they had not proceeded any great distance, before they came suddenly face to face with a red bear; so suddenly, indeed, that the men made a spring for the nearest trees. craig and meek ascended a large pine, which chanced to be nearest, and having many limbs, was easy to climb. nelson happened to take to one of two small trees that grew close together; and the bear, fixing upon him for a victim, undertook to climb after him. with his back against one of these small trees, and his feet against the other, his bearship succeeded in reaching a point not far below nelson's perch, when the trees opened with his weight, and down he went, with a shock that fairly shook the ground. but this bad luck only seemed to infuriate the beast, and up he went again, with the same result, each time almost reaching his enemy. with the second tumble he was not the least discouraged; but started up the third time, only to be dashed once more to the ground when he had attained a certain height. at the third fall, however, he became thoroughly disgusted with his want of success, and turned and ran at full speed into the woods. "then," says meek, "craig began to sing, and i began to laugh; but nelson took to swearing. 'o yes, you can laugh and sing now,' says nelson; 'but you war quiet enough when the bear was around.' 'why, nelson,' i answered, 'you wouldn't have us noisy before that distinguished guest of yours?' but nelson damned the wild beast; and craig and i laughed, and said he didn't seem wild a bit. that's the way we hector each other in the mountains. if a man gets into trouble he is only laughed at: 'let him keep out; let him have better luck,' is what we say." the country traversed by sublette in the fall of , was unknown at that period, even to the fur companies, they having kept either farther to the south or to the north. few, if any, white men had passed through it since lewis and clarke discovered the head-waters of the missouri and the snake rivers, which flow from the opposite sides of the same mountain peaks. even the toils and hardships of passing over mountains at this season of the year, did not deprive the trapper of the enjoyment of the magnificent scenery the region afforded. splendid views, however, could not long beguile men who had little to eat, and who had yet a long journey to accomplish in cold, and surrounded by dangers, before reaching the wintering ground. in november the camp left missouri lake on the east side of the mountains, and crossed over, still northeasterly, on to the gallatin fork of the missouri river, passing over a very rough and broken country. they were, in fact, still in the midst of mountains, being spurs of the great rocky range, and equally high and rugged. a particularly high mountain lay between them and the main yellowstone river. this they had just crossed, with great fatigue and difficulty, and were resting the camp and horses for a few days on the river's bank, when the blackfeet once more attacked them in considerable numbers. two men were killed in this fight, and the camp thrown into confusion by the suddenness of the alarm. capt. sublette, however, got off, with most of his men, still pursued by the indians. not so our joe, who this time was not in luck, but was cut off from camp, alone, and had to flee to the high mountains overlooking the yellowstone. here was a situation for a nineteen-year-old raw recruit! knowing that the blackfeet were on the trail of the camp, it was death to proceed in that direction. some other route must be taken to come up with them; the country was entirely unknown to him; the cold severe; his mule, blanket, and gun, his only earthly possessions. on the latter he depended for food, but game was scarce; and besides, he thought the sound of his gun would frighten himself, so alone in the wilderness, swarming with stealthy foes. hiding his mule in a thicket, he ascended to the mountain top to take a view of the country, and decide upon his course. and what a scene was that for the miserable boy, whose chance of meeting with his comrades again was small indeed! at his feet rolled the yellowstone river, coursing away through the great plain to the eastward. to the north his eye follows the windings of the missouri, as upon a map, but playing at hide-and-seek in amongst the mountains. looking back, he saw the river snake stretching its serpentine length through lava plains, far away, to its junction with the columbia. to the north, and to the south, one white mountain rose above another as far as the eye could reach. what a mighty and magnificent world it seemed, to be alone in! poor joe succumbed to the influence of the thought, and wept. having indulged in this sole remaining luxury of life, joe picked up his resolution, and decided upon his course. to the southeast lay the crow country, a land of plenty,--as the mountain-man regards plenty,--and there he could at least live; provided the crows permitted him to do so. besides, he had some hopes of falling in with one of the camps, by taking that course. descending the mountain to the hiding-place of his mule, by which time it was dark night, hungry and freezing, joe still could not light a fire, for fear of revealing his whereabouts to the indians; nor could he remain to perish with cold. travel he must, and travel he did, going he scarcely knew whither. looking back upon the terrors and discomforts of that night, the veteran mountaineer yet regards it as about the most miserable one of his life. when day at length broke, he had made, as well as he could estimate the distance, about thirty miles. traveling on toward the southeast, he had crossed the yellowstone river, and still among the mountains, was obliged to abandon his mule and accoutrements, retaining only one blanket and his gun. neither the mule nor himself had broken fast in the last two days. keeping a southerly course for twenty miles more, over a rough and elevated country, he came, on the evening of the third day, upon a band of mountain sheep. with what eagerness did he hasten to kill, cook, and eat! three days of fasting was, for a novice, quite sufficient to provide him with an appetite. having eaten voraciously, and being quite overcome with fatigue, joe fell asleep in his blanket, and slumbered quite deeply until morning. with the morning came biting blasts from the north, that made motion necessary if not pleasant. refreshed by sleep and food, our traveler hastened on upon his solitary way, taking with him what sheep-meat he could carry, traversing the same rough and mountainous country as before. no incidents nor alarms varied the horrible and monotonous solitude of the wilderness. the very absence of anything to alarm was awful; for the bravest man is wretchedly nervous in the solitary presence of sublime nature. even the veteran hunter of the mountains can never entirely divest himself of this feeling of awe, when his single soul comes face to face with god's wonderful and beautiful handiwork. at the close of the fourth day, joe made his lonely camp in a deep defile of the mountains, where a little fire and some roasted mutton again comforted his inner and outer man, and another night's sleep still farther refreshed his wearied frame. on the following morning, a very bleak and windy one, having breakfasted on his remaining piece of mutton, being desirous to learn something of the progress he had made, he ascended a low mountain in the neighborhood of his camp--and behold! the whole country beyond was smoking with the vapor from boiling springs, and burning with gasses, issuing from small craters, each of which was emitting a sharp whistling sound. when the first surprise of this astonishing scene had passed, joe began to admire its effect in an artistic point of view. the morning being clear, with a sharp frost, he thought himself reminded of the city of pittsburg, as he had beheld it on a winter morning, a couple of years before. this, however, related only to the rising smoke and vapor; for the extent of the volcanic region was immense, reaching far out of sight. the general face of the country was smooth and rolling, being a level plain, dotted with cone-shaped mounds. on the summits of these mounds were small craters from four to eight feet in diameter. interspersed among these, on the level plain, were larger craters, some of them from four to six miles across. out of these craters issued blue flames and molten brimstone. for some minutes joe gazed and wondered. curious thoughts came into his head, about hell and the day of doom. with that natural tendency to reckless gayety and humorous absurdities which some temperaments are sensible of in times of great excitement, he began to soliloquize. said he, to himself, "i have been told the sun would be blown out, and the earth burnt up. if this infernal wind keeps up, i shouldn't be surprised if the sun war blown out. if the earth is _not_ burning up over thar, then it is that place the old methodist preacher used to threaten me with. any way it suits me to go and see what it's like." on descending to the plain described, the earth was found to have a hollow sound, and seemed threatening to break through. but joe found the warmth of the place most delightful, after the freezing cold of the mountains, and remarked to himself again, that "if it war hell, it war a more agreeable climate than he had been in for some time." he had thought the country entirely desolate, as not a living creature had been seen in the vicinity; but while he stood gazing about him in curious amazement, he was startled by the report of two guns, followed by the indian yell. while making rapid preparations for defence and flight, if either or both should be necessary, a familiar voice greeted him with the exclamation, "it _is_ old joe!" when the adjective "old" is applied to one of meek's age at that time, it is generally understood to be a term of endearment. "my feelings you may imagine," says the "old uncle joe" of the present time, in recalling the adventure. being joined by these two associates, who had been looking for him, our traveler, no longer simply a raw recruit, but a hero of wonderful adventures, as well as the rest of the men, proceeded with them to camp, which they overtook the third day, attempting to cross the high mountains between the yellowstone and the bighorn rivers. if meek had seen hard times in the mountains alone, he did not find them much improved in camp. the snow was so deep that the men had to keep in advance, and break the road for the animals; and to make their condition still more trying, there were no provisions in camp, nor any prospect of plenty, for men or animals, until they should reach the buffalo country beyond the mountains. during this scarcity of provisions, some of those amusing incidents took place with which the mountaineer will contrive to lighten his own and his comrades' spirits, even in periods of the greatest suffering. one which we have permission to relate, has reference to what joe meek calls the "meanest act of his life." while the men were starving, a negro boy, belonging to jedediah smith, by some means was so fortunate as to have caught a porcupine, which he was roasting before the fire. happening to turn his back for a moment, to observe something in camp, meek and reese snatched the tempting viand and made off with it, before the darkey discovered his loss. but when it was discovered, what a wail went up for the embezzled porcupine! suspicion fixed upon the guilty parties, but as no one would 'peach on white men to save a "nigger's" rights, the poor, disappointed boy could do nothing but lament in vain, to the great amusement of the men, who upon the principle that "misery loves company," rather chuckled over than condemned meek's "mean act." there was a sequel, however, to this little story. so much did the negro dwell upon the event, and the heartlessness of the men towards him, that in the following summer, when smith was in st. louis, he gave the boy his freedom and two hundred dollars, and left him in that city; so that it became a saying in the mountains, that "the nigger got his freedom for a porcupine." during this same march, a similar joke was played upon one of the men named craig. he had caught a rabbit and put it up to roast before the fire--a tempting looking morsel to starving mountaineers. some of his associates determined to see how it tasted, and craig was told that the booshways wished to speak with him at their lodge. while he obeyed this supposed command, the rabbit was spirited away, never more to be seen by mortal man. when craig returned to the camp-fire, and beheld the place vacant where a rabbit so late was nicely roasting, his passion knew no bounds, and he declared his intention of cutting it out of the stomach that contained it. but as finding the identical stomach which contained it involved the cutting open of many that probably did not, in the search, he was fain to relinquish that mode of vengeance, together with his hopes of a supper. as craig is still living, and is tormented by the belief that he knows the man who stole his rabbit, mr. meek takes this opportunity of assuring him, upon the word of a gentleman, that _he_ is not the man. while on the march over these mountains, owing to the depth of the snow, the company lost a hundred head of horses and mules, which sank in the yet unfrozen drifts, and could not be extricated. in despair at their situation, jedediah smith one day sent a man named harris to the top of a high peak to take a view of the country, and ascertain their position. after a toilsome scramble the scout returned. "well, what did you see, harris?" asked smith anxiously. "i saw the city of st. louis, and one fellow taking a drink!" replied harris; prefacing the assertion with a shocking oath. smith asked no more questions. he understood by the man's answer that he had made no pleasing discoveries; and knew that they had still a weary way before them to reach the plains below. besides, smith was a religious man, and the coarse profanity of the mountaineers was very distasteful to him. "a very mild man, and a christian; and there were very few of them in the mountains," is the account given of him by the mountaineers themselves. the camp finally arrived without loss of life, except to the animals, on the plains of the bighorn river, and came upon the waters of the stinking fork, a branch of this river, which derives its unfortunate appellation from the fact that it flows through a volcanic tract similar to the one discovered by meek on the yellowstone plains. this place afforded as much food for wonder to the whole camp, as the former one had to joe; and the men unanimously pronounced it the "back door to that country which divines preach about." as this volcanic district had previously been seen by one of lewis and clarke's men, named colter, while on a solitary hunt, and by him also denominated "hell," there must certainly have been something very suggestive in its appearance. if the mountains had proven barren, and inhospitably cold, this hot and sulphurous country offered no greater hospitality. in fact, the fumes which pervaded the air rendered it exceedingly noxious to every living thing, and the camp was fain to push on to the main stream of the bighorn river. here signs of trappers became apparent, and spies having been sent out discovered a camp of about forty men, under milton sublette, brother of captain william sublette, the same that had been detached the previous summer to hunt in that country. smith and sublette then cached their furs, and moving up the river joined the camp of m. sublette. the manner of caching furs is this: a pit is dug to a depth of five or six feet in which to stand. the men then drift from this under a bank of solid earth, and excavate a room of considerable dimensions, in which the furs are deposited, and the apartment closed up. the pit is then filled up with earth, and the traces of digging obliterated or concealed. these caches are the only storehouses of the wilderness. while the men were recruiting themselves in the joint camp, the alarm of "indians!" was given, and hurried cries of "shoot! shoot!" were uttered on the instant. captain sublette, however, checked this precipitation, and ordering the men to hold, allowed the indians to approach, making signs of peace. they proved to be a war party of crows, who after smoking the pipe of peace with the captain, received from him a present of some tobacco, and departed. as soon as the camp was sufficiently recruited for traveling, the united companies set out again toward the south, and crossed the horn mountains once more into wind river valley; having had altogether, a successful fall hunt, and made some important explorations, notwithstanding the severity of the weather and the difficulty of mountain traveling. it was about christmas when the camp arrived on wind river, and the cold intense. while the men celebrated christmas, as best they might under the circumstances, capt. sublette started to st. louis with one man, harris, called among mountain-men black harris, on snowshoes, with a train of pack-dogs. such was the indomitable energy and courage of this famous leader! chapter iv. . the furs collected by jackson's company were cached on the wind river; and the cold still being very severe, and game scarce, the two remaining leaders, smith and jackson, set out on the first of january with the whole camp, for the buffalo country, on the powder river, a distance of about one hundred and fifty miles. "times were hard in camp," when mountains had to be crossed in the depth of winter. the animals had to be subsisted on the bark of the sweet cotton-wood, which grows along the streams and in the valleys on the east side of the rocky mountains, but is nowhere to be found west of that range. this way of providing for his horses and mules involved no trifling amount of labor, when each man had to furnish food for several of them. to collect this bark, the men carried the smooth limbs of the cotton-wood to camp, where, beside the camp-fire, they shaved off the sweet, green bark with a hunting-knife transformed into a drawing-knife by fastening a piece of wood to its point; or, in case the cotton-wood was not convenient, the bark was peeled off, and carried to camp in a blanket. so nutritious is it, that animals fatten upon it quite as well as upon oats. [illustration: hunter's winter camp.] in the large cotton-wood bottoms on the yellowstone river, it sometimes became necessary to station a double guard to keep the buffalo out of camp, so numerous were they, when the severity of the cold drove them from the prairies to these cotton-wood thickets for subsistence. it was, therefore, of double importance to make the winter camp where the cotton-wood was plenty; since not only did it furnish the animals of the camp with food, but by attracting buffalo, made game plenty for the men. to such a hunter's paradise on powder river, the camp was now traveling, and arrived, after a hard, cold march, about the middle of january, when the whole encampment went into winter quarters, to remain until the opening of spring. this was the occasion when the mountain-man "lived fat" and enjoyed life: a season of plenty, of relaxation, of amusement, of acquaintanceship with all the company, of gayety, and of "busy idleness." through the day, hunting parties were coming and going, men were cooking, drying meat, making moccasins, cleaning their arms, wrestling, playing games, and, in short, everything that an isolated community of hardy men could resort to for occupation, was resorted to by these mountaineers. nor was there wanting, in the appearance of the camp, the variety, and that picturesque air imparted by a mingling of the native element; for what with their indian allies, their native wives, and numerous children, the mountaineers' camp was a motley assemblage; and the trappers themselves, with their affectation of indian coxcombry, not the least picturesque individuals. the change wrought in a wilderness landscape by the arrival of the grand camp was wonderful indeed. instead of nature's superb silence and majestic loneliness, there was the sound of men's voices in boisterous laughter, or the busy hum of conversation; the loud-resounding stroke of the axe; the sharp report of the rifle; the neighing of horses, and braying of mules; the indian whoop and yell; and all that not unpleasing confusion of sound which accompanies the movements of the creature man. over the plain, only dotted until now with shadows of clouds, or the transitory passage of the deer, the antelope, or the bear, were scattered hundreds of lodges and immense herds of grazing animals. even the atmosphere itself seemed changed from its original purity, and became clouded with the smoke from many camp-fires. and all this change might go as quickly as it came. the tent struck and the march resumed, solitude reigned once more, and only the cloud dotted the silent landscape. if the day was busy and gleesome, the night had its charms as well. gathered about the shining fires, groups of men in fantastic costumes told tales of marvelous adventures, or sung some old-remembered song, or were absorbed in games of chance. some of the better educated men, who had once known and loved books, but whom some mishap in life had banished to the wilderness, recalled their favorite authors, and recited passages once treasured, now growing unfamiliar; or whispered to some chosen confrere the saddened history of his earlier years, and charged him thus and thus, should ever-ready death surprise himself in the next spring's hunt. it will not be thought discreditable to our young trapper, joe, that he learned to read by the light of the camp-fire. becoming sensible, even in the wilderness, of the deficiencies of his early education, he found a teacher in a comrade, named green, and soon acquired sufficient knowledge to enjoy an old copy of shakspeare; which, with a bible, was carried about with the property of the camp. in this life of careless gayety and plenty, the whole company was allowed to remain without interruption, until the first of april, when it was divided, and once more started on the march. jackson, or "davey," as he was called by the men, with about half the company, left for the snake country. the remainder, among whom was meek, started north, with smith for commander, and james bridger as pilot. crossing the mountains, ranges of which divide the tributary streams of the yellowstone from each other, the first halt was made on tongue river. from thence the camp proceeded to the bighorn river. through all this country game was in abundance,--buffalo, elk, and bear, and beaver also plenty. in mountain phrase, "times were good on this hunt:" beaver packs increased in number, and both men and animals were in excellent condition. a large party usually hunted out the beaver and frightened away the game in a few weeks, or days, from any one locality. when this happened the camp moved on; or, should not game be plenty, it kept constantly on the move, the hunters and trappers seldom remaining out more than a day or two. should the country be considered dangerous on account of indians, it was the habit of the men to return every night to the encampment. it was the design of smith to take his command into the blackfoot country, a region abounding in the riches which he sought, could they only be secured without coming into too frequent conflict with the natives: always a doubtful question concerning these savages. he had proceeded in this direction as far as bovey's fork of the bighorn, when the camp was overtaken by a heavy fall of snow, which made traveling extremely difficult, and which, when melted, caused a sudden great rise in the mountain streams. in attempting to cross bovey's fork during the high water, he had thirty horses swept away, with three hundred traps: a serious loss in the business of hunting beaver. in the manner described, pushing on through an unknown country, hunting and trapping as they moved, the company proceeded, passing another low chain of mountains, through a pass called pryor's gap, to clark's fork of the yellowstone, thence to rose-bud river, and finally to the main yellowstone river, where it makes a great bend to the east, enclosing a large plain covered with grass, and having also extensive cotton-wood bottoms, which subsequently became a favorite wintering ground of the fur companies. it was while trapping up in this country, on the rose-bud river, that an amusing adventure befel our trapper joe. being out with two other trappers, at some distance from the great camp, they had killed and supped off a fat buffalo cow. the night was snowy, and their camp was made in a grove of young aspens. having feasted themselves, the remaining store of choice pieces was divided between, and placed, hunter fashion, under the heads of the party, on their betaking themselves to their blanket couches for the night. neither indian nor wild beast disturbed their repose, as they slept, with their guns beside them, filled with comfort and plenty. but who ever dreams of the presence of a foe under such circumstances? certainly not our young trapper, who was only awakened about day-break by something very large and heavy walking over him, and snuffing about him with a most insulting freedom. it did not need yankee powers of guessing to make out who the intruder in camp might be: in truth, it was only too disagreeably certain that it was a full sized grizzly bear, whose keenness of smell had revealed to him the presence of fat cow-meat in that neighborhood. "you may be sure," says joe, "that i kept very quiet, while that bar helped himself to some of my buffalo meat, and went a little way off to eat it. but mark head, one of the men, raised up, and back came the bar. down went our heads under the blankets, and i kept mine covered pretty snug, while the beast took another walk over the bed, but finally went off again to a little distance. mitchel then wanted to shoot; but i said, 'no, no; hold on, or the brute will kill us, sure.' when the bar heard our voices, back he run again, and jumped on the bed as before. i'd have been happy to have felt myself sinking ten feet under ground, while that bar promenaded over and around us! however, he couldn't quite make out our style, and finally took fright, and ran off down the mountain. wanting to be revenged for his impudence, i went after him, and seeing a good chance, shot him dead. then i took my turn at running over him awhile!" such are the not infrequent incidents of the trapper's life, which furnish him with material, needing little embellishment to convert it into those wild tales with which the nights are whiled away around the winter camp-fire. arrived at the yellowstone with his company, smith found it necessary, on account of the high water, to construct bull-boats for the crossing. these are made by stitching together buffalo hides, stretching them over light frames, and paying the seams with elk tallow and ashes. in these light wherries the goods and people were ferried over, while the horses and mules were crossed by swimming. the mode usually adopted in crossing large rivers, was to spread the lodges on the ground, throwing on them the light articles, saddles, etc. a rope was then run through the pin-holes around the edge of each, when it could be drawn up like a reticule. it was then filled with the heavier camp goods, and being tightly drawn up, formed a perfect ball. a rope being tied to it, it was launched on the water, the children of the camp on top, and the women swimming after and clinging to it, while a man, who had the rope in his hand, swam ahead holding on to his horse's mane. in this way, dancing like a cork on the waves, the lodge was piloted across; and passengers as well as freight consigned, undamaged, to the opposite shore. a large camp of three hundred men, and one hundred women and children were frequently thus crossed in one hour's time. the camp was now in the excellent but inhospitable country of the blackfeet, and the commander redoubled his precautions, moving on all the while to the mussel shell, and thence to the judith river. beaver were plenty and game abundant; but the vicinity of the large village of the blackfeet made trapping impracticable. their war upon the trappers was ceaseless; their thefts of traps and horses ever recurring: and smith, finding that to remain was to be involved in incessant warfare, without hope of victory or gain, at length gave the command to turn back, which was cheerfully obeyed: for the trappers had been very successful on the spring hunt, and thinking discretion some part at least of valor, were glad to get safe out of the blackfoot country with their rich harvest of beaver skins. the return march was by the way of pryor's gap, and up the bighorn, to wind river, where the cache was made in the previous december. the furs were now taken out and pressed, ready for transportation across the plains. a party was also dispatched, under mr. tullock, to raise the cache on the bighorn river. among this party was meek, and a frenchman named ponto. while digging to come at the fur, the bank above caved in, falling upon meek and ponto, killing the latter almost instantly. meek, though severely hurt, was taken out alive: while poor ponto was "rolled in a blanket, and pitched into the river." so rude were the burial services of the trapper of the rocky mountains. meek was packed back to camp, along with the furs, where he soon recovered. sublette arrived from st. louis with fourteen wagons loaded with merchandise, and two hundred additional men for the service. jackson also arrived from the snake country with plenty of beaver, and the business of the yearly rendezvous began. then the scenes previously described were re-enacted. beaver, the currency of the mountains, was plenty that year, and goods were high accordingly. a thousand dollars a day was not too much for some of the most reckless to spend on their squaws, horses, alcohol, and themselves. for "alcohol" was the beverage of the mountaineers. liquors could not be furnished to the men in that country. pure alcohol was what they "got tight on;" and a desperate tight it was, to be sure! an important change took place in the affairs of the rocky mountain company at this rendezvous. the three partners, smith, sublette, and jackson, sold out to a new firm, consisting of milton sublette, james bridger, fitzpatrick, frapp, and jervais; the new company retaining the same name and style as the old. the old partners left for st. louis, with a company of seventy men, to convoy the furs. two of them never returned to the rocky mountains; one of them, smith, being killed the following year, as will hereafter be related; and jackson remaining in st. louis, where, like a true mountain-man, he dissipated his large and hard-earned fortune in a few years. captain sublette, however, continued to make his annual trips to and from the mountains for a number of years; and until the consolidation of another wealthy company with the rocky mountain company, continued to furnish goods to the latter, at a profit on st. louis prices; his capital and experience enabling him to keep the new firm under his control to a large degree. chapter v. . the whole country lying upon the yellowstone and its tributaries, and about the head-waters of the missouri, at the time of which we are writing, abounded not only in beaver, but in buffalo, bear, elk, antelope, and many smaller kinds of game. indeed the buffalo used then to cross the mountains into the valleys about the head-waters of the snake and colorado rivers, in such numbers that at certain seasons of the year, the plains and river bottoms swarmed with them. since that day they have quite disappeared from the western slope of the rocky mountains, and are no longer seen in the same numbers on the eastern side. bear, although they did not go in herds, were rather uncomfortably numerous, and sometimes put the trapper to considerable trouble, and fright also; for very few were brave enough to willingly encounter the formidable grizzly, one blow of whose terrible paw, aimed generally at the hunter's head, if not arrested, lays him senseless and torn, an easy victim to the wrathful monster. a gunshot wound, if not directed with certainty to some vulnerable point, has only the effect to infuriate the beast, and make him trebly dangerous. from the fact that the bear always bites his wound, and commences to run with his head thus brought in the direction from which the ball comes, he is pretty likely to make a straight wake towards his enemy, whether voluntarily or not; and woe be to the hunter who is not prepared for him, with a shot for his eye, or the spot just behind the ear, where certain death enters. [illustration: _the three "bares."_] in the frequent encounters of the mountain-men with these huge beasts, many acts of wonderful bravery were performed, while some tragedies, and not a few comedies were enacted. from something humorous in joe meek's organization, or some wonderful "luck" to which he was born, or both, the greater part of his adventures with bears, as with men, were of a humorous complexion; enabling him not only to have a story to tell, but one at which his companions were bound to laugh. one of these which happened during the fall hunt of , we will let him tell for himself: "the first fall on the yellowstone, hawkins and myself were coming up the river in search of camp, when we discovered a very large bar on the opposite bank. we shot across, and thought we had killed him, fur he laid quite still. as we wanted to take some trophy of our victory to camp, we tied our mules and left our guns, clothes, and everything except our knives and belts, and swum over to whar the bar war. but instead of being dead, as we expected, he sprung up as we come near him, and took after us. then you ought to have seen two naked men run! it war a race for life, and a close one, too. but we made the river first. the bank war about fifteen feet high above the water, and the river ten or twelve feet deep; but we didn't halt. overboard we went, the bar after us, and in the stream about as quick as we war. the current war very strong, and the bar war about half way between hawkins and me. hawkins was trying to swim down stream faster than the current war carrying the bar, and i war a trying to hold back. you can reckon that i swam! every moment i felt myself being washed into the yawning jaws of the mighty beast, whose head war up the stream, and his eyes on me. but the current war too strong for him, and swept him along as fast as it did me. all this time, not a long one, we war looking for some place to land where the bar could not overtake us. hawkins war the first to make the shore, unknown to the bar, whose head war still up stream; and he set up such a whooping and yelling that the bar landed too, but on the opposite side. i made haste to follow hawkins, who had landed on the side of the river we started from, either by design or good luck: and then we traveled back a mile and more to whar our mules war left--a bar on one side of the river, and _two bares_ on the other!" notwithstanding that a necessary discipline was observed and maintained in the fur traders' camp, there was at the same time a freedom of manner between the booshways and the men, both hired and free, which could not obtain in a purely military organization, nor even in the higher walks of civilized life in cities. in the mountain community, motley as it was, as in other communities more refined, were some men who enjoyed almost unlimited freedom of speech and action, and others who were the butt of everybody's ridicule or censure. the leaders themselves did not escape the critical judgment of the men; and the estimation in which they were held could be inferred from the manner in which they designated them. captain sublette, whose energy, courage, and kindness entitled him to the admiration of the mountaineers, went by the name of _billy_: his partner jackson, was called _davey_; bridger, _old gabe_, and so on. in the same manner the men distinguished favorites or oddities amongst themselves, and to have the adjective _old_ prefixed to a man's name signified nothing concerning his age, but rather that he was an object of distinction; though it did not always indicate, except by the tone in which it was pronounced, whether that distinction were an enviable one or not. whenever a trapper could get hold of any sort of story reflecting on the courage of a leader, he was sure at some time to make him aware of it, and these anecdotes were sometimes sharp answers in the mouths of careless camp-keepers. bridger was once waylaid by blackfeet, who shot at him, hitting his horse in several places. the wounds caused the animal to rear and pitch, by reason of which violent movements bridger dropped his gun, and the indians snatched it up; after which there was nothing to do except to run, which bridger accordingly did. not long after this, as was customary, the leader was making a circuit of the camp examining the camp-keeper's guns, to see if they were in order, and found that of one maloney, an irishman, in a very dirty condition. "what would you do," asked bridger, "with a gun like that, if the indians were to charge on the camp?" "be ----, i would throw it to them, and run the way ye did," answered maloney, quickly. it was sometime after this incident before bridger again examined maloney's gun. a laughable story in this way went the rounds of the camp in this fall of . milton sublette was out on a hunt with meek after buffalo, and they were just approaching the band on foot, at a distance apart of about fifty yards, when a large grizzly bear came out of a thicket and made after sublette, who, when he perceived the creature, ran for the nearest cotton-wood tree. meek in the meantime, seeing that sublette was not likely to escape, had taken sure aim, and fired at the bear, fortunately killing him. on running up to the spot where it laid, sublette was discovered sitting at the foot of a cotton-wood, with his legs and arms clasped tightly around it. "do you always climb a tree in that way?" asked meek. "i reckon you took the wrong end of it, that time, milton!" "i'll be ----, meek, if i didn't think i was twenty feet up that tree when you shot;" answered the frightened booshway; and from that time the men never tired of alluding to milton's manner of climbing a tree. [illustration: the wrong end of the tree.] these were some of the mirthful incidents which gave occasion for a gayety which had to be substituted for happiness, in the checkered life of the trapper; and there were like to be many such, where there were two hundred men, each almost daily in the way of adventures by flood or field. on the change in the management of the company which occurred at the rendezvous this year, three of the new partners, fitzpatrick, sublette, and bridger, conducted a large party, numbering over two hundred, from the wind river to the yellowstone; crossing thence to smith's river, the falls of the missouri, three forks of the missouri, and to the big blackfoot river. the hunt proved very successful; beaver were plentiful; and the blackfeet shy of so large a traveling party. although so long in their country, there were only four men killed out of the whole company during this autumn. from the blackfoot river the company proceeded down the west side of the mountains to the forks of the snake river, and after trapping for a short time in this locality, continued their march southward as far as ogden's hole, a small valley among the bear river mountains. at this place they fell in with a trading and trapping party, under mr. peter skeen ogden, of the hudson's bay company. and now commenced that irritating and reprehensible style of rivalry with which the different companies were accustomed to annoy one another. accompanying mr. ogden's trading party were a party of rockway indians, who were from the north, and who were employed by the hudson's bay company, as the iroquois and crows were, to trap for them. fitzpatrick and associates camped in the neighborhood of ogden's company, and immediately set about endeavoring to purchase from the rockways and others, the furs collected for mr. ogden. not succeeding by fair means, if the means to such an end could be called fair,--they opened a keg of whiskey, which, when the indians had got a taste, soon drew them away from the hudson's bay trader, the regulations of whose company forbade the selling or giving of liquors to the indians. under its influence, the furs were disposed of to the rocky mountain company, who in this manner obtained nearly the whole product of their year's hunt. this course of conduct was naturally exceedingly disagreeable to mr. ogden, as well as unprofitable also; and a feeling of hostility grew up and increased between the two camps. while matters were in this position, a stampede one day occurred among the horses in ogden's camp, and two or three of the animals ran away, and ran into the camp of the rival company. among them was the horse of mr. ogden's indian wife, which had escaped, with her babe hanging to the saddle. not many minutes elapsed, before the mother, following her child and horse, entered the camp, passing right through it, and catching the now halting steed by the bridle. at the same moment she espied one of her company's pack-horses, loaded with beaver, which had also run into the enemy's camp. the men had already begun to exult over the circumstance, considering this chance load of beaver as theirs, by the laws of war. but not so the indian woman. mounting her own horse, she fearlessly seized the pack-horse by the halter, and led it out of camp, with its costly burden. at this undaunted action, some of the baser sort of men cried out "shoot her, shoot her!" but a majority interfered, with opposing cries of "let her go; let her alone; she's a brave woman: i glory in her pluck;" and other like admiring expressions. while the clamor continued, the wife of ogden had galloped away, with her baby and her pack-horse. as the season advanced, fitzpatrick, with his other partners, returned to the east side of the mountains, and went into winter quarters on powder river. in this trapper's "land of canaan" they remained between two and three months. the other two partners, frapp and jervais, who were trapping far to the south, did not return until the following year. while wintering it became necessary to send a dispatch to st. louis on the company's business. meek and a frenchman named legarde, were chosen for this service, which was one of trust and peril also. they proceeded without accident, however, until the pawnee villages were reached, when legarde was taken prisoner. meek, more cautious, escaped, and proceeded alone a few days' travel beyond, when he fell in with an express on its way to st. louis, to whom he delivered his dispatches, and returned to camp, accompanied only by a frenchman named cabeneau; thus proving himself an efficient mountaineer at twenty years of age. . as soon as the spring opened, sometime in march, the whole company started north again, for the blackfoot country. but on the night of the third day out, they fell unawares into the neighborhood of a party of crow indians, whose spies discovered the company's horses feeding on the dry grass of a little bottom, and succeeded in driving off about three hundred head. here was a dilemma to be in, in the heart of an enemy's country! to send the remaining horses after these, might be "sending the axe after the helve;" besides most of them belonged to the free trappers, and could not be pressed into the service. the only course remaining was to select the best men and dispatch them on foot, to overtake and retake the stolen horses. accordingly one hundred trappers were ordered on this expedition, among whom were meek, newell, and antoine godin, a half-breed and brave fellow, who was to lead the party. following the trail of the crows for two hundred miles, traveling day and night, on the third day they came up with them on a branch of the bighorn river. the trappers advanced cautiously, and being on the opposite side of the stream, on a wooded bluff, were enabled to approach close enough to look into their fort, and count the unsuspecting thieves. there were sixty of them, fine young braves, who believed that now they had made a start in life. alas, for the vanity of human, and especially of crow expectations! even then, while they were grouped around their fires, congratulating themselves on the sudden wealth which had descended upon them, as it were from the skies, an envious fate, in the shape of several roguish white trappers, was laughing at them and their hopes, from the overhanging bluff opposite them. and by and by, when they were wrapped in a satisfied slumber, two of these laughing rogues, robert newell, and antoine godin, stole under the very walls of their fort, and setting the horses free, drove them across the creek. the indians were awakened by the noise of the trampling horses, and sprang to arms. but meek and his fellow-trappers on the bluff fired into the fort with such effect that the crows were appalled. having delivered their first volley, they did not wait for the savages to recover from their recoil. mounting in hot haste, the cavalcade of bare-back riders, and their drove of horses, were soon far away from the crow fort, leaving the ambitious braves to finish their excursion on foot. it was afterwards ascertained that the crows lost seven men by that one volley of the trappers. flushed with success, the trappers yet found the backward journey more toilsome than the outward; for what with sleeplessness and fatigue, and bad traveling in melted snow, they were pretty well exhausted when they reached camp. fearing, however, another raid from the thieving crows, the camp got in motion again with as little delay as possible. they had not gone far, when fitzpatrick turned back, with only one man, to go to st. louis for supplies. after the departure of fitzpatrick, bridger and sublette completed their spring and summer campaign without any material loss in men or animals, and with considerable gain in beaver skins. having once more visited the yellowstone, they turned to the south again, crossing the mountains into pierre's hole, on to snake river; thence to salt river; thence to bear river; and thence to green river, to rendezvous. it was expected that fitzpatrick would have arrived from st. louis with the usual annual recruits and supplies of merchandise, in time for the summer rendezvous; but after waiting for some time in vain, bridger and sublette determined to send out a small party to look for him. the large number of men now employed, had exhausted the stock of goods on hand. the camp was without blankets and without ammunition; knives were not to be had; traps were scarce; but worse than all, the tobacco had given out, and alcohol was not! in such a case as this, what could a mountain-man do? to seek the missing booshway became not only a duty, but a necessity; and not only a necessity of the physical man, but in an equal degree a need of the moral and spiritual man, which was rusting with the tedium of waiting. in the state of uncertainty in which the minds of the company were involved, it occurred to that of frapp to consult a great "medicine-man" of the crows, one of those recruits filched from mr. ogden's party by whiskey the previous year. like all eminent professional men, the crow chief required a generous fee, of the value of a horse or two, before he would begin to make "medicine." this peculiar ceremony is pretty much alike among all the different tribes. it is observed first in the making of a medicine man, _i. e._, qualifying him for his profession; and afterwards is practiced to enable him to heal the sick, to prophecy, and to dream dreams, or even to give victory to his people. to a medicine-man was imputed great power, not only to cure, but to kill; and if, as it sometimes happened, the relatives of a sick man suspected the medicine-man of having caused his death, by the exercise of evil powers, one of them, or all of them, pursued him to the death. therefore, although it might be honorable, it was not always safe to be a great "medicine." the indians placed a sort of religious value upon the practice of fasting; a somewhat curious fact, when it is remembered how many compulsory fasts they are obliged to endure, which must train them to think lightly of the deprivation of food. those, however, who could endure voluntary abstinence long enough, were enabled to become very wise and very brave. the manner of making a "medicine" among some of the interior tribes, is in certain respects similar to the practice gone through with by some preachers, in making a convert. a sort of camp-meeting is held, for several nights, generally about five, during which various dances are performed, with cries, and incantations, bodily exercises, singing, and nervous excitement; enough to make many patients, instead of one doctor. but the native's constitution is a strong one, and he holds out well. at last, however, one or more are overcome with the mysterious _power_ which enters into them at that time; making, instead of a saint, only a superstitious indian doctor. the same sort of exercises which had made the cree man a doctor were now resorted to, in order that he might obtain a more than natural sight, enabling him to see visions of the air, or at the least to endow him with prophetic dreams. after several nights of singing, dancing, hopping, screeching, beating of drums, and other more violent exercises and contortions, the exhausted medicine-man fell off to sleep, and when he awoke he announced to frapp that fitzpatrick was not dead. he was on the road; some road; but not the right one; etc., etc. thus encouraged, frapp determined to take a party, and go in search of him. accordingly meek, reese, ebarts, and nelson, volunteered to accompany him. this party set out, first in the direction of wind river; but not discovering any signs of the lost booshway in that quarter, crossed over to the sweetwater, and kept along down to the north fork of the platte, and thence to the black hills, where they found a beautiful country full of game; but not the hoped-for train, with supplies. after waiting for a short time at the black hills, frapp's party returned to the north fork of the platte, and were rejoiced to meet at last, the long absent partner, with his pack train. urged by frapp, fitzpatrick hastened forward, and came into camp on powder river after winter had set in. fitzpatrick had a tale to tell the other partners, in explanation of his unexpected delay. when he had started for st. louis in the month of march previous, he had hoped to have met the old partners, capt. sublette and jedediah smith, and to have obtained the necessary supplies from them, to furnish the summer rendezvous with plenty. but these gentlemen, when he fell in with them, used certain arguments which induced him to turn back, and accompany them to santa fe, where they promised to furnish him goods, as he desired, and to procure for him an escort at that place. the journey had proven tedious, and unfortunate. they had several times been attacked by indians, and smith had been killed. while they were camped on a small tributary of the simmaron river, smith had gone a short distance from camp to procure water, and while at the stream was surprised by an ambush, and murdered on the spot, his murderers escaping unpunished. sublette, now left alone in the business, finally furnished him; and he had at last made his way back to his rocky mountain camp. but fitzpatrick's content at being once more with his company was poisoned by the disagreeable proximity of a rival company. if he had annoyed mr. ogden of the hudson's bay company, in the previous autumn, major vanderburg and mr. dripps, of the american company, in their turn annoyed him. this company had been on their heels, from the platte river, and now were camped in the same neighborhood, using the rocky mountain company as pilots to show them the country. as this was just what it was not for their interest to do, the rocky mountain company raised camp, and fairly ran away from them; crossing the mountains to the forks of the snake river, where they wintered among the nez perces and flathead indians. some time during this winter, meek and legarde, who had escaped from the pawnees, made another expedition together; traveling three hundred miles on snowshoes, to the bitter root river, to look for a party of free trappers, whose beaver the company wished to secure. they were absent two months and a half, on this errand, and were entirely successful, passing a blackfoot village in the night, but having no adventures worth recounting. chapter vi. . in the following spring, the rocky mountain fur company commenced its march, first up lewis' fork, then on to salt river, thence to gray's river, and thence to bear river. they fell in with the north american fur company on the latter river, with a large lot of goods, but no beaver. the american company's resident partners were ignorant of the country, and were greatly at a loss where to look for the good trapping grounds. these gentlemen, vanderburg and dripps, were therefore inclined to keep an eye on the movements of the rocky mountain company, whose leaders were acquainted with the whole region lying along the mountains, from the head-waters of the colorado to the northern branches of the missouri. on the other hand, the rocky mountain company were anxious to "shake the dust from off their feet," which was trodden by the american company, and to avoid the evils of competition in an indian country. but they found the effort quite useless; the rival company had a habit of turning up in the most unexpected places, and taking advantage of the hard-earned experience of the rocky mountain company's leaders. they tampered with the trappers, and ferreted out the secret of their next rendezvous; they followed on their trail, making them pilots to the trapping grounds; they sold goods to the indians, and what was worse, to the hired trappers. in this way grew up that fierce conflict of interests, which made it "as much as his life was worth" for a trapper to suffer himself to be inveigled into the service of a rival company, which about this time or a little later, was at its highest, and which finally ruined the fur-trade for the american companies in the rocky mountains. finding their rivals in possession of the ground, bridger and milton sublette resolved to spend but a few days in that country. but so far as sublette was concerned, circumstances ordered differently. a rockway chief, named gray, and seven of his people, had accompanied the camp from ogden's hole, in the capacity of trappers. but during the sojourn on bear river, there was a quarrel in camp on account of some indignity, real or fancied, which had been offered to the chief's daughter, and in the affray gray stabbed sublette so severely that it was thought he must die. it thus fell out that sublette had to be left behind; and meek who was his favorite, was left to take care of him while he lived, and bury him if he died; which trouble sublette saved him, however, by getting well. but they had forty lonesome days to themselves after the camps had moved off,--one on the heels of the other, to the great vexation of bridger. time passed slowly in sublette's lodge, while waiting for his wound to heal. day passed after day, so entirely like each other that the monotony alone seemed sufficient to invite death to an easy conquest. but the mountain-man's blood, like the indians, is strong and pure, and his flesh heals readily, therefore, since death would not have him, the wounded man was forced to accept of life in just this monotonous form. to him joe meek was everything,--hands, feet, physician, guard, caterer, hunter, cook, companion, friend. what long talks they had, when sublette grew better: what stories they told; what little glimpses of a secret chamber in their hearts, and a better than the every-day spirit, in their bosoms, was revealed,--as men will reveal such things in the isolation of sea-voyages, or the solitary presence of majestic nature. to the veteran mountaineer there must have been something soothing in the care and friendship of the youth of twenty-two, with his daring disposition, his frankness, his cheerful humor, and his good looks;--for our joe was growing to be a maturely handsome man--tall, broad-shouldered, straight, with plenty of flesh, and none too much of it; a southerner's olive complexion; frank, dark eyes, and a classical nose and chin. what though in the matter of dress he was ignorant of the latest styles?--grace imparts elegance even to the trapper's beaver-skin cap and blanket capote. at the end of forty days, as many as it took to drown a world, sublette found himself well enough to ride; and the two set out on their search for camp. but now other adventures awaited them. on a fork of green river, they came suddenly upon a band of snake indians feeding their horses. as soon as the snakes discovered the white men, they set up a yell, and made an instinctive rush for their horses. now was the critical moment. one word passed between the travelers, and they made a dash past the savages, right into the village, and never slacked rein until they threw themselves from their horses at the door of the medicine lodge. this is a large and fancifully decorated lodge, which stands in the centre of a village, and like the churches of christians, is sacred. once inside of this, the strangers were safe for the present; their blood could not be shed there. the warriors of the village soon followed sublette and meek into their strange house of refuge. in half an hour it was filled. not a word was addressed to the strangers; nor by them to the indians, who talked among themselves with a solemn eagerness, while they smoked the medicine pipe, as inspiration in their councils. great was the excitement in the minds of the listeners, who understood the snake tongue, as the question of their life or death was gravely discussed; yet in their countenances appeared only the utmost serenity. to show fear, is to whet an indian's appetite for blood: coolness confounds and awes him when anything will. if sublette had longed for excitement, while an invalid in his lonely lodge on bear river, he longed equally now for that blissful seclusion. listening for, and hearing one's death-warrant from a band of blood-thirsty savages, could only prove with bitter sharpness how sweet was life, even the most uneventful. for hours the council continued, and the majority favored the death-sentence. but one old chief, called the good _gotia_, argued long for an acquittal: he did not see the necessity of murdering two harmless travelers of the white race. nothing availed, however, and just at sunset their doom was fixed. the only hope of escape was, that, favored by darkness, they might elude the vigilance of their jailers; and night, although so near, seemed ages away, even at sundown. death being decreed, the warriors left the lodge one by one to attend to the preparation of the preliminary ceremonies. gotia, the good, was the last to depart. as he left the medicine lodge he made signs to the captives to remain quiet until he should return; pointing upwards to signify that there was a chance of life; and downwards to show that possibly they must die. what an age of anxiety was that hour of waiting! not a word had been exchanged between the prisoners since the indians entered the lodge, until now; and now very little was said, for speech would draw upon them the vigilance of their enemy, by whom they desired most ardently to be forgotten. about dusk there was a great noise, and confusion, and clouds of dust, in the south end of the village. something was going wrong among the indian horses. immediately all the village ran to the scene of the disorder, and at the same moment gotia, the good, appeared at the door of the medicine lodge, beckoning the prisoners to follow him. with alacrity they sprang up and after him, and were led across the stream, to a thicket on the opposite side, where their horses stood, ready to mount, in the charge of a young indian girl. they did not stop for compliments, though had time been less precious, they might well have bestowed some moments of it in admiration of _umentucken tukutsey undewatsey_, the mountain lamb. soon after, the beautiful snake girl became the wife of milton sublette; and after his return to the states, of the subject of this narrative; from which circumstance the incident above related takes on something of the rosy hue of romance. as each released captive received his bridle from the delicate hand of the mountain lamb, he sprang to the saddle. by this time the chief had discovered that the strangers understood the snake dialect. "ride, if you wish to live," said he: "ride without stopping, all night: and to-morrow linger not." with hurried thanks our mountain-men replied to this advice, and striking into a gallop, were soon far away from the snake village. the next day at noon found them a hundred and fifty miles on their way to camp. proceeding without further accident, they crossed the teton mountains, and joined the company at pierre's hole, after an absence of nearly four months. here they found the ubiquitous if not omnipresent american fur company encamped at the rendezvous of the rocky mountain company. the partners being anxious to be freed from this sort of espionage, and obstinate competition on their own ground, made a proposition to vanderburg and dripps to divide the country with them, each company to keep on its own territory. this proposition was refused by the american company; perhaps because they feared having the poorer portion set off to themselves by their more experienced rivals. on this refusal, the rocky mountain company determined to send an express to meet capt. william sublette, who was on his way out with a heavy stock of merchandise, and hurry him forward, lest the american company should have the opportunity of disposing of its goods, when the usual gathering to rendezvous began. on this decision being formed, fitzpatrick determined to go on this errand himself; which he accordingly did, falling in with sublette, and campbell, his associate, somewhere near the black hills. to them he imparted his wishes and designs, and receiving the assurance of an early arrival at rendezvous, parted from them at the sweetwater, and hastened back, alone, as he came, to prepare for business. captain sublette hurried forward with his train, which consisted of sixty men with pack-horses, three to a man. in company with him, was mr. nathaniel wyeth, a history of whose fur-trading and salmon-fishing adventures has already been given. captain sublette had fallen in with mr. wyeth at independence, missouri; and finding him ignorant of the undertaking on which he was launched, offered to become pilot and traveling companion, an offer which was gratefully accepted. the caravan had reached the foot-hills of the wind river mountains, when the raw recruits belonging to both these parties were treated to a slight foretaste of what indian fighting would be, should they ever have to encounter it. their camp was suddenly aroused at midnight by the simultaneous discharge of guns and arrows, and the frightful whoops and yells with which the savages make an attack. nobody was wounded, however; but on springing to arms, the indians fled, taking with them a few horses which their yells had frightened from their pickets. these marauders were blackfeet, as captain sublette explained to mr. wyeth, their moccasin tracks having betrayed them; for as each tribe has a peculiar way of making or shaping the moccasin, the expert in indian habits can detect the nationality of an indian thief by his foot-print. after this episode of the night assault, the leaders redoubled their watchfulness, and reached their destination in pierre's hole about the first of july. when sublette arrived in camp, it was found that fitzpatrick was missing. if the other partners had believed him to be with the captain, the captain expected to find him with them; but since neither could account to the other for his non-appearance, much anxiety was felt, and sublette remembered with apprehension the visit he had received from blackfeet. however, before anything had been determined upon with regard to him, he made his appearance in camp, in company with two iroquois half-breeds, belonging to the camp, who had been out on a hunt. fitzpatrick had met with an adventure, as had been conjectured. while coming up the green river valley, he descried a small party of mounted men, whom he mistook for a company of trappers, and stopped to reconnoitre; but almost at the same moment the supposed trappers, perceiving him, set up a yell that quickly undeceived him, and compelled him to flight. abandoning his pack-horse, he put the other to its topmost speed, and succeeded in gaining the mountains, where in a deep and dark defile he secreted himself until he judged the indians had left that part of the valley. in this he was deceived, for no sooner did he emerge again into the open country, than he was once more pursued, and had to abandon his horse, to take refuge among the cliffs of the mountains. here he remained for several days, without blankets or provisions, and with only one charge of ammunition, which was in his rifle, and kept for self-defense. at length, however, by frequent reconnoitering, he managed to elude his enemies, traveling by night, until he fortunately met with the two hunters from camp, and was conveyed by them to the rendezvous. all the parties were now safely in. the lonely mountain valley was populous with the different camps. the rocky mountain and american companies had their separate camps; wyeth had his; a company of free trappers, fifteen in number, led by a man named sinclair, from arkansas, had the fourth; the nez perces and flatheads, the allies of the rocky mountain company, and the friends of the whites, had their lodges along all the streams; so that altogether there could not have been less than one thousand souls, and two or three thousand horses and mules gathered in this place. "when the pie was opened then the birds began to sing." when captain sublette's goods were opened and distributed among the trappers and indians, then began the usual gay carousal; and the "fast young men" of the mountains outvied each other in all manner of mad pranks. in the beginning of their spree many feats of horsemanship and personal strength were exhibited, which were regarded with admiring wonder by the sober and inexperienced new englanders under mr. wyeth's command. and as nothing stimulated the vanity of the mountain-men like an audience of this sort, the feats they performed were apt to astonish themselves. in exhibitions of the kind, the free trappers took the lead, and usually carried off the palm, like the privileged class that they were. but the horse-racing, fine riding, wrestling, and all the manlier sports, soon degenerated into the baser exhibitions of a "crazy drunk" condition. the vessel in which the trapper received and carried about his supply of alcohol was one of the small camp kettles. "passing round" this clumsy goblet very freely, it was not long before a goodly number were in the condition just named, and ready for any mad freak whatever. it is reported by several of the mountain-men that on the occasion of one of these "frolics," one of their number seized a kettle of alcohol, and poured it over the head of a tall, lank, redheaded fellow, repeating as he did so the baptismal ceremony. no sooner had he concluded, than another man with a lighted stick, touched him with the blaze, when in an instant he was enveloped in flames. luckily some of the company had sense enough left to perceive his danger, and began beating him with pack-saddles to put out the blaze. but between the burning and the beating, the unhappy wretch nearly lost his life, and never recovered from the effects of his baptism by fire. beaver being plenty in camp, business was correspondingly lively, there being a great demand for goods. when this demand was supplied, as it was in the course of about three weeks, the different brigades were set in motion. one of the earliest to move was a small party under milton sublette, including his constant companion, meek. with this company, no more than thirty in number, sublette intended to explore the country to the south-west, then unknown to the fur companies, and to proceed as far as the humboldt river in that direction. on the th of july they set out toward the south end of the valley, and having made but about eight miles the first day, camped that night near a pass in the mountains. wyeth's party of raw new englanders, and sinclair's free trappers, had joined themselves to the company of milton sublette, and swelled the number in camp to about sixty men, many of them new to the business of mountain life. just as the men were raising camp for a start the next morning, a caravan was observed moving down the mountain pass into the valley. no alarm was at first felt, as an arrival was daily expected of one of the american company's partisans, mr. fontenelle, and his company. but on reconnoitering with a glass, sublette discovered them to be a large party of blackfeet, consisting of a few mounted men, and many more, men, women, and children, on foot. at the instant they were discovered, they set up the usual yell of defiance, and rushed down like a mountain torrent into the valley, flourishing their weapons, and fluttering their gay blankets and feathers in the wind. there was no doubt as to the warlike intentions of the blackfeet in general, nor was it for a moment to be supposed that any peaceable overture on their part meant anything more than that they were not prepared to fight at that particular juncture; therefore let not the reader judge too harshly of an act which under ordinary circumstances would have been infamous. in indian fighting, every man is his own leader, and the bravest take the front rank. on this occasion there were two of sublette's men, one a half-breed iroquois, the other a flathead indian, who had wrongs of their own to avenge, and they never let slip a chance of killing a blackfoot. these two men rode forth alone to meet the enemy, as if to hold a "talk" with the principal chief, who advanced to meet them, bearing the pipe of peace. when the chief extended his hand, antonio godin, the half-breed, took it, but at the same moment he ordered the flathead to fire, and the chief fell dead. the two trappers galloped back to camp, antoine bearing for a trophy the scarlet blanket of his enemy. this action made it impossible to postpone the battle, as the dead chief had meant to do by peaceful overtures, until the warriors of his nation came up. the blackfeet immediately betook themselves to a swamp formed by an old beaver dam, and thickly overgrown with cotton-wood and willow, matted together with tough vines. on the edge of this dismal covert the warriors skulked, and shot with their guns and arrows, while in its very midst the women employed themselves in digging a trench and throwing up a breastwork of logs, and whatever came to hand. such a defence as the thicket afforded was one not easy to attack; its unseen but certain dangers being sufficient to appal the stoutest heart. meantime, an express had been sent off to inform captain sublette of the battle, and summon assistance. sinclair and his free trappers, with milton sublette's small company, were the only fighting men at hand. mr. wyeth, knowing the inefficiency of his men in an indian fight, had them entrenched behind their packs, and there left them to take care of themselves, but charged them not to appear in open field. as for the fighting men, they stationed themselves in a ravine, where they could occasionally pick off a blackfoot, and waited for reinforcements. great was the astonishment of the blackfeet, who believed they had only milton sublette's camp to fight, when they beheld first one party of white men and then another; and not only whites, but nez perces and flatheads came galloping up the valley. if before it had been a battle to destroy the whites, it was now a battle to defend themselves. previous to the arrival of captain sublette, the opposing forces had kept up only a scattering fire, in which nobody on the side of the trappers had been either killed or wounded. but when the impetuous captain arrived on the battle-field, he prepared for less guarded warfare. stripped as if for the prize-ring, and armed _cap-a-pie_, he hastened to the scene of action, accompanied by his intimate friend and associate in business, robert campbell. at sight of the reinforcements, and their vigorous movements, the indians at the edge of the swamp fell back within their fort. to dislodge them was a dangerous undertaking, but captain sublette was determined to make the effort. finding the trappers generally disinclined to enter the thicket, he set the example, together with campbell, and thus induced some of the free trappers, with their leader, sinclair, to emulate his action. however, the others took courage at this, and advanced near the swamp, firing at random at their invisible foe, who, having the advantage of being able to see them, inflicted some wounds on the party. the few white "braves" who had resolved to enter the swamp, made their wills as they went, feeling that they were upon perilous business. sublette, campbell, and sinclair succeeded in penetrating the thicket without alarming the enemy, and came at length to a more open space from whence they could get a view of the fort. from this they learned that the women and children had retired to the mountains, and that the fort was a slight affair, covered with buffalo robes and blankets to keep out prying eyes. moving slowly on, some slight accident betrayed their vicinity, and the next moment a shot struck sinclair, wounding him mortally. he spoke to campbell, requesting to be taken to his brother. by this time some of the men had come up, and he was given in charge to be taken back to camp. sublette then pressed forward, and seeing an indian looking through an aperture, aimed at him with fatal effect. no sooner had he done so, and pointed out the opening to campbell, than he was struck with a ball in the shoulder, which nearly prostrated him, and turned him so faint that campbell took him in his arms and carried him, assisted by meek, out of the swamp. at the same time one of the men received a wound in the head. the battle was now carried on with spirit, although from the difficulty of approaching the fort, the firing was very irregular. the mountaineers who followed sublette, took up their station in the woods on one side of the fort, and the nez perces, under wyeth, on the opposite side, which accidental arrangement, though it was fatal to many of the blackfeet in the fort, was also the occasion of loss to themselves by the cross-fire. the whites being constantly reinforced by fresh arrivals from the rendezvous, were soon able to silence the guns of the enemy, but they were not able to drive them from their fort, where they remained silent and sullen after their ammunition was exhausted. seeing that the women of the nez perces and flatheads were gathering up sticks to set fire to their breastwork of logs, an old chief proclaimed in a loud voice from within, the startling intelligence that there were four hundred lodges of his people close at hand, who would soon be there to avenge their deaths, should the whites choose to reduce them to ashes. this harangue, delivered in the usual high-flown style of indian oratory, either was not clearly understood, or was wrongly interpreted, and the impression got abroad that an attack was being made on the great encampment. this intelligence occasioned a diversion, and a division of forces; for while a small party was left to watch the fort, the rest galloped in hot haste to the rescue of the main camp. when they arrived, they found it had been a false alarm, but it was too late to return that night, and the several camps remained where they were until the next day. meantime the trappers left to guard the fort remained stationed within the wood all night, firmly believing they had their enemy "corraled," as the horsemen of the plains would say. on the return, in the morning, of their comrades from the main camp, they advanced cautiously up to the breastwork of logs, and behold! not a buffalo skin nor red blanket was to be seen! through the crevices among the logs was seen an empty fort. on making this discovery there was much chagrin among the white trappers, and much lamentation among the indian allies, who had abandoned the burning of the fort expressly to save for themselves the fine blankets and other goods of their hereditary foes. from the reluctance displayed by the trappers, in the beginning of the battle, to engage with the indians while under cover of the woods, it must not be inferred that they were lacking in courage. they were too well informed in indian modes of warfare to venture recklessly into the den of death, which a savage ambush was quite sure to be. the very result which attended the impetuosity of their leaders, in the death of sinclair and the wounding of captain sublette, proved them not over cautious. on entering the fort, the dead bodies of ten blackfeet were found, besides others dead outside the fort, and over thirty horses, some of which were recognized as those stolen from sublette's night camp on the other side of the mountains, besides those abandoned by fitzpatrick. doubtless the rascals had followed his trail to pierre's hole, not thinking, however, to come upon so large a camp as they found at last. the savage garrison which had so cunningly contrived to elude the guard set upon them, carried off some of their wounded, and, perhaps, also some of their dead; for they acknowledged afterwards a much larger loss than appeared at the time. besides sinclair, there were five other white men killed, one half-breed, and seven nez perces. about the same number of whites and their indian allies were wounded. an instance of female devotion is recorded by bonneville's historian as having occurred at this battle. on the morning following it, as the whites were exploring the thickets about the fort, they discovered a blackfoot woman leaning silent and motionless against a tree. according to mr. irving, whose fine feeling for the sex would incline him to put faith in this bit of romance, "their surprise at her lingering here alone, to fall into the hands of her enemies, was dispelled when they saw the corpse of a warrior at her feet. either she was so lost in grief as not to perceive their approach, or a proud spirit kept her silent and motionless. the indians set up a yell on discovering her, and before the trappers could interfere, her mangled body fell upon the corpse which she had refused to abandon." this version is true in the main incidents, but untrue in the sentiment. the woman's leg had been broken by a ball, and she was unable to move from the spot where she leaned. when the trappers approached her, she stretched out her hands supplicatingly, crying out in a wailing voice, "kill me! kill me! o white men, kill me!"--but this the trappers had no disposition to do. while she was entreating them, and they refusing, a ball from some vengeful nez perce or flathead put an end to her sufferings. still remembering the threats of the blackfoot chief, that four hundred lodges of his brethren were advancing on the valley, all the companies returned to rendezvous, and remained for several days, to see whether an attack should take place. but if there had ever been any such intention on the part of the blackfoot nation, the timely lesson bestowed on their advance guard had warned them to quit the neighborhood of the whites. captain sublette's wound was dressed by mr. wyeth's physician, and although it hindered his departure for st. louis for some time, it did not prevent his making his usual journey later in the season. it was as well, perhaps, that he did not set out earlier, for of a party of seven who started for st. louis a few days after the battle, three were killed in jackson's hole, where they fell in with the four hundred warriors with whom the blackfoot chief threatened the whites at the battle of pierre's hole. from the story of the four survivors who escaped and returned to camp, there could no longer be any doubt that the big village of the blackfeet had actually been upon the trail of capt. sublette, expecting an easy victory when they should overtake him. how they were disappointed by the reception met with by the advance camp, has already been related. chapter vii. . on the d of july, milton sublette's brigade and the company of mr. wyeth again set out for the southwest, and met no more serious interruptions while they traveled in company. on the head-waters of the humboldt river they separated, wyeth proceeding north to the columbia, and sublette continuing on into a country hitherto untraversed by american trappers. it was the custom of a camp on the move to depend chiefly on the men employed as hunters to supply them with game, the sole support of the mountaineers. when this failed, the stock on hand was soon exhausted, and the men reduced to famine. this was what happened to sublette's company in the country where they now found themselves, between the owyhee and humboldt rivers. owing to the arid and barren nature of these plains, the largest game to be found was the beaver, whose flesh proved to be poisonous, from the creature having eaten of the wild parsnip in the absence of its favorite food. the men were made ill by eating of beaver flesh, and the horses were greatly reduced from the scarcity of grass and the entire absence of the cotton-wood. in this plight sublette found himself, and finally resolved to turn north, in the hope of coming upon some better and more hospitable country. the sufferings of the men now became terrible, both from hunger and thirst. in the effort to appease the former, everything was eaten that could be eaten, and many things at which the well-fed man would sicken with disgust. "i have," says joe meek, "held my hands in an ant-hill until they were covered with the ants, then greedily licked them off. i have taken the soles off my moccasins, crisped them in the fire, and eaten them. in our extremity, the large black crickets which are found in this country were considered game. we used to take a kettle of hot water, catch the crickets and throw them in, and when they stopped kicking, eat them. that was not what we called _cant tickup ko hanch_, (good meat, my friend), but it kept us alive." equally abhorrent expedients were resorted to in order to quench thirst, some of which would not bear mention. in this condition, and exposed to the burning suns and the dry air of the desert, the men now so nearly exhausted began to prey upon their almost equally exhausted animals. at night when they made their camp, by mutual consent a mule was bled, and a soup made from its blood. about a pint was usually taken, when two or three would mess together upon this reviving, but scanty and not very palatable dish. but this mode of subsistence could not be long depended on, as the poor mules could ill afford to lose blood in their famishing state; nor could the men afford to lose their mules where there was a chance of life: therefore hungry as they were, the men were cautious in this matter; and it generally caused a quarrel when a man's mule was selected for bleeding by the others. a few times a mule had been sacrificed to obtain meat; and in this case the poorest one was always selected, so as to economise the chances for life for the whole band. in this extremity, after four days of almost total abstinence and several weeks of famine, the company reached the snake river, about fifty miles above the fishing falls, where it boils and dashes over the rocks, forming very strong rapids. here the company camped, rejoiced at the sight of the pure mountain water, but still in want of food. during the march a horse's back had become sore from some cause; probably, his rider thought, because the saddle did not set well; and, although that particular animal was selected to be sacrificed on the morrow, as one that could best be spared, he set about taking the stuffing out of his saddle and re-arranging the padding. while engaged in this considerate labor, he uttered a cry of delight and held up to view a large brass pin, which had accidentally got into the stuffing, when the saddle was made, and had been the cause of all the mischief to his horse. the same thought struck all who saw the pin: it was soon converted into a fish-hook, a line was spun from horse-hair, and in a short time there were trout enough caught to furnish them a hearty and a most delicious repast. "in the morning," says meek, "we went on our way rejoicing;" each man with the "five fishes" tied to his saddle, if without any "loaves." this was the end of their severest suffering, as they had now reached a country where absolute starvation was not the normal condition of the inhabitants; and which was growing more and more bountiful, as they neared the rocky mountains, where they at length joined camp, not having made a very profitable expedition. it may seem incredible to the reader that any country so poor as that in which our trappers starved could have native inhabitants. yet such was the fact; and the people who lived in and who still inhabit this barren waste, were called _diggers_, from their mode of obtaining their food--a few edible roots growing in low grounds, or marshy places. when these fail them they subsist as did our trappers, by hunting crickets and field mice. nothing can be more abject than the appearance of the digger indian, in the fall, as he roams about, without food and without weapons, save perhaps a bow and arrows, with his eyes fixed upon the ground, looking for crickets! so despicable is he, that he has neither enemies nor friends; and the neighboring tribes do not condescend to notice his existence, unless indeed he should come in their way, when they would not think it more than a mirthful act to put an end to his miserable existence. and so it must be confessed the trappers regarded him. when sublette's party first struck the humboldt, wyeth's being still with them, joe meek one day shot a digger who was prowling about a stream where his traps were set. "why did you shoot him?" asked wyeth. "to keep him from stealing traps." "had he stolen any?" "no: but he _looked as if he was going to_!" this recklessness of life very properly distressed the just minded new englander. yet it was hard for the trappers to draw lines of distinction so nice as his. if a tribe was not known to be friendly, it was a rule of necessity to consider it unfriendly. the abjectness and cowardice of the diggers was the fruit of their own helpless condition. that they had the savage instinct, held in check only by circumstances, was demonstrated about the same time that meek shot one, by his being pursued by four of them when out trapping alone, and only escaping at last by the assistance of one of his comrades who came to the rescue. they could not fight, like the crows and blackfeet, but they could steal and murder, when they had a safe opportunity. it would be an interesting study, no doubt, to the philanthropist, to ascertain in how great a degree the habits, manners, and morals of a people are governed by their resources, especially by the quality and quantity of their diet. but when diet and climate are both taken into consideration, the result is striking. the character of the blackfeet who inhabited the good hunting grounds on the eastern side of the rocky mountains, is already pretty well given. they were tall, sinewy, well-made fellows; good horsemen, and good fighters, though inclined to marauding and murdering. they dressed comfortably and even handsomely, as dress goes amongst savages, and altogether were more to be feared than despised. the crows resembled the blackfeet, whose enemies they were, in all the before-mentioned traits, but were if possible, even more predatory in their habits. unlike the blackfeet, however, they were not the enemies of all mankind; and even were disposed to cultivate some friendliness with the white traders and trappers, in order, as they acknowledged, to strengthen their own hands against the blackfeet. they too inhabited a good country, full of game, and had horses in abundance. these were the mountain tribes. comparing these with the coast tribes, there was a striking difference. the natives of the columbia were not a tall and robust people, like those east of the rocky mountains, who lived by hunting. their height rarely exceeded five feet six inches; their forms were good, rather inclining to fatness, their faces round, features coarse, but complexion light, and their eyes large and intelligent. the custom of flattening their heads in infancy gave them a grotesque and unnatural appearance, otherwise they could not be called ill-looking. on the first advent of white men among them, they were accustomed to go entirely naked, except in winter, when a panther skin, or a mantle of other skins sewed together, served to protect them from the cold: or if the weather was rainy, as it generally was in that milder climate, a long mantle of rush mats, like the toga of the ancient romans, took the place of that made of skins. to this was added a conical hat, woven of fibrous roots, and gaily painted. for defensive armor they were provided with a tunic of elkskin double, descending to the ankles, with holes in it for the arms, and quite impenetrable to arrows. a helmet of similar material covered the head, rendering them like achilles, invulnerable except in the heels. in this secure dress they went to battle in their canoes, notice being first given to the enemy of the intended attack. their battles might therefore be termed compound duels, in which each party observed great punctiliousness and decorum. painted and armor-encased, the warriors in two flotillas of canoes were rowed to the battle ground by their women, when the battle raged furiously for some time; not, however, doing any great harm to either side. if any one chanced to be killed, that side considered itself beaten, and retired from the conflict to mourn over and bury the estimable and departed brave. if the case was a stubborn one, requiring several days fighting, the opponents encamped near each other, keeping up a confusion of cries, taunts, menaces, and raillery, during the whole night; after which they resumed the conflict, and continued it until one was beaten. if a village was to be attacked, notice being received, the women and children were removed; and if the village was beaten they made presents to their conquerors. such were the decorous habits of the warriors of the lower columbia. these were the people who lived almost exclusively by fishing, and whose climate was a mild and moist one. fishing, in which both sexes engaged about equally, was an important accomplishment, since it was by fish they lived in this world; and by being good fishermen that they had hopes of the next one. the houses in which they lived, instead of being lodges made of buffalo skins, were of a large size and very well constructed, being made out of cedar planks. an excavation was first made in the earth two or three feet deep, probably to secure greater warmth in winter. a double row of cedar posts was then planted firmly all round the excavation, and between these the planks were laid, or, sometimes cedar bark, so overlapped as to exclude the rain and wind. the ridge-pole of the roof was supported on a row of taller posts, passing through the centre of the building, and notched to receive it. the rafters were then covered with planks or bark, fastened down with ropes made of the fibre of the cedar bark. a house made in this manner, and often a hundred feet long by thirty or forty wide, accommodated several families, who each had their separate entrance and fireplace; the entrance being by a low oval-shaped door, and a flight of steps. the canoes of these people were each cut out of a single log of cedar; and were often thirty feet long and five wide at midships. they were gaily painted, and their shape was handsome, with a very long bow so constructed as to cut the surf in landing with the greatest ease, or the more readily to go through a rough sea. the oars were about five feet long, and bent in the shape of a crescent; which shape enabled them to draw them edgewise through the water with little or no noise--this noiselessness being an important quality in hunting the sea otter, which is always caught sleeping on the rocks. the single instrument which sufficed to build canoes and houses was the chisel; generally being a piece of old iron obtained from some vessel and fixed in a wooden handle. a stone mallet aided them in using the chisel; and with this simple "kit" of tools they contrived to manufacture plates, bowls, carved oars, and many ornamental things. like the men of all savage nations, they made slaves of their captives, and their women. the dress of the latter consisted merely of a short petticoat, manufactured from the fibre of the cedar bark, previously soaked and prepared. this material was worked into a fringe, attached to a girdle, and only long enough to reach the middle of the thigh. when the season required it, they added a mantle of skins. their bodies were anointed with fish-oil, and sometimes painted with red ochre in imitation of the men. for ornaments they wore strings of glass beads, and also of a white shell found on the northern coast, called _haiqua_. such were the _chinooks_, who lived upon the coast. farther up the river, on the eastern side of the cascade range of mountains, a people lived, the same, yet different from the chinooks. they resembled them in form, features, and manner of getting a living. but they were more warlike and more enterprising; they even had some notions of commerce, being traders between the coast indians and those to the east of them. they too were great fishermen, but used the net instead of fishing in boats. great scaffoldings were erected every year at the narrows of the columbia, known as the dalles, where, as the salmon passed up the river in the spring, in incredible numbers, they were caught and dried. after drying, the fish were then pounded fine between two stones, pressed tightly into packages or bales of about a hundred pounds, covered with matting, and corded up for transportation. the bales were then placed in storehouses built to receive them, where they awaited customers. by and by there came from the coast other indians, with different varieties of fish, to exchange for the salmon in the wish-ram warehouses. and by and by there came from the plains to the eastward, others who had horses, camas-root, bear-grass, fur robes, and whatever constituted the wealth of the mountains and plains, to exchange for the rich and nutritious salmon of the columbia. these wish-ram indians were sharp traders, and usually made something by their exchanges; so that they grew rich and insolent, and it was dangerous for the unwary stranger to pass their way. of all the tribes of the columbia, they perpetrated the most outrages upon their neighbors, the passing traveler, and the stranger within their gates. still farther to the east, on the great grassy plains, watered by beautiful streams, coming down from the mountains, lived the cayuses, yakimas, nez perces, wallah-wallahs, and flatheads; as different in their appearance and habits as their different modes of living would naturally make them. instead of having many canoes, they had many horses; and in place of drawing the fishing net, or trolling lazily along with hook and line, or spearing fish from a canoe, they rode pell-mell to the chase, or sallied out to battle with the hostile blackfeet, whose country lay between them and the good hunting-grounds, where the great herds of buffalo were. being nimrods by nature, they were dressed in complete suits of skins, instead of going naked, like their brethren in the lower country. being wandering and pastoral in their habits, they lived in lodges, which could be planted every night and raised every morning. their women, too, were good riders, and comfortably clad in dressed skins, kept white with chalk. so wealthy were some of the chiefs that they could count their fifteen hundred head of horses grazing on their grassy uplands. horse-racing was their delight, and betting on them their besetting vice. for bridles they used horse-hair cords, attached around the animal's mouth. this was sufficient to check him, and by laying a hand on this side or that of the horse's neck, the rider could wheel him in either direction. the simple and easy-fitting saddle was a stuffed deer-skin, with stirrups of wood, resembling in shape those used by the mexicans, and covered with deer-skin sewed on wet, so as to tighten in drying. the saddles of the women were furnished with a pair of deer's antlers for the pommel. in many things their customs and accoutrements resembled those of the mexicans, from whom, no doubt, they were borrowed. like the mexican, they threw the lasso to catch the wild horse. their horses, too, were of mexican stock, and many of them bore the brand of that country, having been obtained in some of their not infrequent journeys into california and new mexico. as all the wild horses of america are said to have sprung from a small band, turned loose upon the plains by cortez, it would be interesting to know at what time they came to be used by the northern indians, or whether the horse and the indian did not emigrate together. if the horse came to the indian, great must have been the change effected by the advent of this new element in the savage's life. it is impossible to conceive, however, that the indian ever could have lived on these immense plains, barren of everything but wild grass, without his horse. with him he does well enough, for he not only "lives on horseback," by which means he can quickly reach a country abounding in game, but he literally lives on horse-flesh, when other game is scarce. curious as the fact may seem, the indians at the mouth of the columbia and those of new mexico speak languages similar in construction to that of the aztecs; and from this fact, and the others before mentioned, it may be very fairly inferred that difference of circumstances and localities have made of the different tribes what they are. as to the indian's moral nature, that is pretty much alike everywhere; and with some rare exceptions, the rarest of which is, perhaps, the flathead and nez perces nations, all are cruel, thieving, and treacherous. the indian gospel is literally the "gospel of blood"; an "eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." vengeance is as much a commandment to him as any part of the decalogue is to the christian. but we have digressed far from our narrative; and as it will be necessary to refer to the subject of the moral code of savages further on in our narrative, we leave it for the present. after the incident of the pin and the fishes, sublette's party kept on to the north, coursing along up payette's river to payette lake, where he camped, and the men went out trapping. a party of four, consisting of meek, antoine godin, louis leaugar, and small, proceeded to the north as far as the salmon river and beyond, to the head of one of its tributaries, where the present city of florence is located. while camped in this region, three of the men went out one day to look for their horses, which had strayed away, or been stolen by the indians. during their absence, meek, who remained in camp, had killed a fine fat deer, and was cooking a portion of it, when he saw a band of about a hundred indians approaching, and so near were they that flight was almost certainly useless; yet as a hundred against one was very great odds, and running away from them would not increase their number, while it gave him something to do in his own defence, he took to his heels and ran as only a mountain-man can run. instead, however, of pursuing him, the practical-minded braves set about finishing his cooking for him, and soon had the whole deer roasting before the fire. this procedure provoked the gastronomic ire of our trapper, and after watching them for some time from his hiding-place, he determined to return and share the feast. on reaching camp again, and introducing himself to his not over-scrupulous visitors, he found they were from the nez perces tribe inhabiting that region, who, having been so rude as to devour his stock of provisions, invited him to accompany them to their village, not a great way off, where they would make some return for his involuntary hospitality. this he did, and there found his three comrades and all their horses. while still visiting at the nez perces village, they were joined by the remaining portion of sublette's command, when the whole company started south again. passing payette's lake to the east, traversing the boise basin, going to the head-waters of that river, thence to the malade, thence to godin's river, and finally to the forks of the salmon, where they found the main camp. captain bonneville, of whose three years wanderings in the wilderness mr. irving has given a full and interesting account, was encamped in the same neighborhood, and had built there a small fort or trading-house, and finally wintered in the neighborhood. an exchange of men now took place, and meek went east of the mountains under fitzpatrick and bridger. when these famous leaders had first set out for the summer hunt, after the battle of pierre's hole, their course had been to the head-waters of the missouri, to the yellowstone lake, and the forks of the missouri, some of the best beaver grounds known to them. but finding their steps dogged by the american fur company, and not wishing to be made use of as pilots by their rivals, they had flitted about for a time like an arab camp, in the endeavor to blind them, and finally returned to the west side of the mountains, where meek fell in with them. exasperated by the perseverance of the american company, they had come to the determination of leading them a march which should tire them of the practice of keeping at their heels. they therefore planned an expedition, from which they expected no other profit than that of shaking off their rivals. taking no pains to conceal their expedition, they rather held out the bait to the american company, who, unsuspicious of their purpose, took it readily enough. they led them along across the mountains, and on to the head-waters of the missouri. here, packing up their traps, they tarried not for beaver, nor even tried to avoid the blackfeet, but pushed right ahead, into the very heart of their country, keeping away from any part of it where beaver might be found, and going away on beyond, to the elevated plains, quite destitute of that small but desirable game, but followed through it by their rivals. however justifiable on the part of trade this movement of the rocky mountain company might have been, it was a cruel device as concerned the inexperienced leaders of the other company, one of whom lost his life in consequence. not knowing of their danger, they only discovered their situation in the midst of blackfeet, after discovering the ruse that had been played upon them. they then halted, and being determined to find beaver, divided their forces and set out in opposite directions for that purpose. unhappily, major vanderburg took the worst possible direction for a small party to take, and had not traveled far when his scouts came upon the still smoking camp-fires of a band of indians who were returning from a buffalo hunt. from the "signs" left behind them, the scout judged that they had become aware of the near neighborhood of white men, and from their having stolen off, he judged that they were only gone for others of their nation, or to prepare for war. but vanderburg, with the fool-hardiness of one not "up to blackfeet," determined to ascertain for himself what there was to fear; and taking with him half a score of his followers, put himself upon their trail, galloping hard after them, until, in his rashness, he found himself being led through a dark and deep defile, rendered darker and gloomier by overhanging trees. in the midst of this dismal place, just where an ambush might have been expected, he was attacked by a horde of savages, who rushed upon his little party with whoops and frantic gestures, intended not only to appal the riders, but to frighten their horses, and thus make surer their bloody butchery. it was but the work of a few minutes to consummate their demoniac purpose. vanderburg's horse was shot down at once, falling on his rider, whom the indians quickly dispatched. one or two of the men were instantly tomahawked, and the others wounded while making their escape to camp. the remainder of vanderburg's company, on learning the fate of their leader, whose place there was no one to fill, immediately raised camp and fled with all haste to the encampment of the pends oreille indians for assistance. here they waited, while those indians, a friendly tribe, made an effort to recover the body of their unfortunate leader; but the remains were never recovered, probably having first been fiendishly mutilated, and then left to the wolves. fitzpatrick and bridger, finding they were no longer pursued by their rivals, as the season advanced began to retrace their steps toward the good trapping grounds. being used to indian wiles and blackfeet maraudings and ambushes, they traveled in close columns, and never camped or turned out their horses to feed, without the greatest caution. morning and evening scouts were sent out to beat up every thicket or ravine that seemed to offer concealment to a foe, and the horizon was searched in every direction for signs of an indian attack. the complete safety of the camp being settled almost beyond a peradventure, the horses were turned loose, though never left unguarded. [illustration: scouts in the blackfoot country--"elk or indians?"] it was not likely, however, that the camp should pass through the blackfoot country without any encounters with that nation. when it had reached the head-waters of the missouri, on the return march, a party of trappers, including meek, discovered a small band of indians in a bend of the lake, and thinking the opportunity for sport a good one, commenced firing on them. the indians, who were without guns, took to the lake for refuge, while the trappers entertained themselves with the rare amusement of keeping them in the water, by shooting at them occasionally. but it chanced that these were only a few stragglers from the main blackfoot camp, which soon came up and put an end to the sport by putting the trappers to flight in their turn. the trappers fled to camp, the indians pursuing, until the latter discovered that they had been led almost into the large camp of the whites. this occasioned a halt, the blackfeet not caring to engage with superior numbers. in the pause which ensued, one of the chiefs came out into the open space, bearing the peace pipe, and bridger also advanced to meet him, but carrying his gun across the pommel of his saddle. he was accompanied by a young blackfoot woman, wife of a mexican in his service, as interpreter. the chief extended his hand in token of amity; but at that moment bridger saw a movement of the chiefs, which he took to mean treachery, and cocked his rifle. but the lock had no sooner clicked than the chief, a large and powerful man, seized the gun and turned the muzzle downward, when the contents were discharged into the earth. with another dexterous movement he wrested it from bridger's hand, and struck him with it, felling him to the ground. in an instant all was confusion. the noise of whoops, yells, of fire-arms, and of running hither and thither, gathered like a tempest. at the first burst of this demoniac blast, the horse of the interpreter became frightened, and, by a sudden movement, unhorsed her, wheeling and running back to camp. in the melee which now ensued, the woman was carried off by the blackfeet, and bridger was wounded twice in the back with arrows. a chance medley fight now ensued, continuing until night put a period to the contest. so well matched were the opposing forces, that each fought with caution firing from the cover of thickets and from behind rocks, neither side doing much execution. the loss on the part of the blackfeet was nine warriors, and on that of the whites, three men and six horses. as for the young blackfoot woman, whose people retained her a prisoner, her lamentations and struggles to escape and return to her husband and child so wrought upon the young mexican, who was the pained witness of her grief, that he took the babe in his arms, and galloped with it into the heart of the blackfoot camp, to place it in the arms of the distracted mother. this daring act, which all who witnessed believed would cause his death, so excited the admiration of the blackfoot chief, that he gave him permission to return, unharmed, to his own camp. encouraged by this clemency, loretta begged to have his wife restored to him, relating how he had rescued her, a prisoner, from the crows, who would certainly have tortured her to death. the wife added her entreaties to his, but the chief sternly bade him depart, and as sternly reminded the blackfoot girl that she belonged to his tribe, and could not go with his enemies. loretta was therefore compelled to abandon his wife and child, and return to camp. it is, however, gratifying to know that so true an instance of affection in savage life was finally rewarded; and that when the two rival fur companies united, as they did in the following year, loretta was permitted to go to the american company's fort on the missouri, in the blackfoot country, where he was employed as interpreter, assisted by his blackfoot wife. such were some of the incidents that signalized this campaign in the wilderness, where two equally persistent rivals were trying to outwit one another. subsequently, when several years of rivalry had somewhat exhausted both, the rocky mountain and american companies consolidated, using all their strategy thereafter against the hudson's bay company, and any new rival that chanced to enter their hunting grounds. after the fight above described, the blackfeet drew off in the night, showing no disposition to try their skill next day against such experienced indian fighters as bridger's brigade had shown themselves. the company continued in the missouri country, trapping and taking many beaver, until it reached the beaver head valley, on the head-waters of the jefferson fork of the missouri. here the lateness of the season compelled a return to winter-quarters, and by christmas all the wanderers were gathered into camp at the forks of the snake river. . in the latter part of january it became necessary to move to the junction of the portneuf to subsist the animals. the main body of the camp had gone on in advance, while some few, with pack horses, or women with children, were scattered along the trail. meek, with five others, had been left behind to gather up some horses that had strayed. when about a half day's journey from camp, he overtook _umentucken_, the mountain lamb, now the wife of milton sublette, with her child, on horseback. the weather was terribly cold, and seeming to grow colder. the naked plains afforded no shelter from the piercing winds, and the air fairly glittered with frost. poor umentucken was freezing, but more troubled about her babe than herself. the camp was far ahead, with all the extra blankets, and the prospect was imminent that they would perish. our gallant trapper had thought himself very cold until this moment, but what were his sufferings compared to those of the mountain lamb and her little lambkin? without an instant's hesitation, he divested himself of his blanket capote, which he wrapped round the mother and child, and urged her to hasten to camp. for himself, he could not hasten, as he had the horses in charge, but all that fearful afternoon rode naked above the waist, exposed to the wind, and the fine, dry, icy hail, which filled the air as with diamond needles, to pierce the skin; and, probably, to the fact that the hail _was_ so stinging, was owing the fact that his blood did not congeal. "o what a day was that!" said meek to the writer; "why, the air war thick with fine, sharp hail, and the sun shining, too! not one sun only, but three suns--there were _three_ suns! and when night came on, the northern lights blazed up the sky! it was the most beautiful sight i ever saw. that is the country for northern lights!" when some surprise was expressed that he should have been obliged to expose his naked skin to the weather, in order to save umentucken--"in the mountains," he answered, "we do not have many garments. buckskin breeches, a blanket capote, and a beaver skin cap makes up our rig." "you do not need a laundress, then? but with such clothing how could you keep free of vermin?" "we didn't always do that. do you want to know how we got rid of lice in the mountains? we just took off our clothes and laid them on an ant-hill, and you ought to see how the ants would carry off the lice!" but to return to our hero, frozen, or nearly so. when he reached camp at night, so desperate was his condition that the men had to roll him and rub him in the snow for some time before allowing him to approach the fire. but umentucken was saved, and he became heroic in her eyes. whether it was the glory acquired by the gallant act just recorded, or whether our hero had now arrived at an age when the tender passion has strongest sway, the writer is unprepared to affirm: for your mountain-man is shy of revealing his past gallantries; but from this time on, there are evidences of considerable susceptibility to the charms of the dusky beauties of the mountains and the plains. the cold of this winter was very severe, insomuch that men and mules were frozen to death. "the frost," says meek, "used to hang from the roofs of our lodges in the morning, on first waking, in skeins two feet long, and our blankets and whiskers were white with it. but we trappers laid still, and called the camp-keepers to make a fire, and in our close lodges it was soon warm enough. "the indians suffered very much. fuel war scarce on the snake river, and but little fire could be afforded--just sufficient for the children and their mothers to get warm by, for the fire was fed only with buffalo fat torn in strips, which blazed up quickly and did not last long. many a time i have stood off, looking at the fire, but not venturing to approach, when a chief would say, 'are you cold, my friend? come to the fire'--so kind are these nez perces and flatheads." the cold was not the only enemy in camp that winter, but famine threatened them. the buffalo had been early driven east of the mountains, and other game was scarce. sometimes a party of hunters were absent for days, even weeks, without finding more game than would subsist themselves. as the trappers were all hunters in the winter, it frequently happened that meek and one or more of his associates went on a hunt in company, for the benefit of the camp, which was very hungry at times. on one of these hunting expeditions that winter, the party consisting of meek, hawkins, doughty, and antoine claymore, they had been out nearly a fortnight without killing anything of consequence, and had clambered up the side of the mountains on the frozen snow, in hopes of finding some mountain sheep. as they traveled along under a projecting ledge of rocks, they came to a place where there were the impressions in the snow of enormous grizzly bear feet. close by was an opening in the rocks, revealing a cavern, and to this the tracks in the snow conducted. evidently the creature had come out of its winter den, and made just one circuit back again. at these signs of game the hunters hesitated--certain it was there, but doubtful how to obtain it. at length doughty proposed to get up on the rocks above the mouth of the cavern and shoot the bear as he came out, if somebody would go in and dislodge him. "i'm your man," answered meek. "and i too," said claymore. "i'll be ---- if we are not as brave as you are," said hawkins, as he prepared to follow. on entering the cave, which was sixteen or twenty feet square, and high enough to stand erect in, instead of one, three bears were discovered. they were standing, the largest one in the middle, with their eyes staring at the entrance, but quite quiet, greeting the hunters only with a low growl. finding that there was a bear apiece to be disposed of, the hunters kept close to the wall, and out of the stream of light from the entrance, while they advanced a little way, cautiously, towards their game, which, however, seemed to take no notice of them. after maneuvering a few minutes to get nearer, meek finally struck the large bear on the head with his wiping-stick, when it immediately moved off and ran out of the cave. as it came out, doughty shot, but only wounded it, and it came rushing back, snorting, and running around in a circle, till the well directed shots from all three killed it on the spot. two more bears now remained to be disposed of. the successful shot put hawkins in high spirits. he began to hallo and laugh, dancing around, and with the others striking the next largest bear to make him run out, which he soon did, and was shot by doughty. by this time their guns were reloaded, the men growing more and more elated, and hawkins declaring they were "all daniels in the lions' den, and no mistake." this, and similar expressions, he constantly vociferated, while they drove out the third and smallest bear. as it reached the cave's mouth, three simultaneous shots put an end to the last one, when hawkins' excitement knew no bounds. "daniel was a humbug," said he. "daniel in the lions' den! of course it was winter, and the lions were sucking their paws! tell me no more of daniel's exploits. we are as good daniels as he ever dared to be. hurrah for these daniels!" with these expressions, and playing many antics by way of rejoicing, the delighted hawkins finally danced himself out of his "lion's den," and set to work with the others to prepare for a return to camp. sleds were soon constructed out of the branches of the mountain willow, and on these light vehicles the fortunate find of bear meat was soon conveyed to the hungry camp in the plain below. and ever after this singular exploit of the party, hawkins continued to aver, in language more strong than elegant, that the scripture daniel was a humbug compared to himself, and meek, and claymore. chapter viii. . in the spring the camp was visited by a party of twenty blackfeet, who drove off most of the horses; and among the stolen ones, bridger's favorite race-horse, grohean, a camanche steed of great speed and endurance. to retake the horses, and if possible punish the thieves, a company of the gamest trappers, thirty in number, including meek, and kit carson, who not long before had joined the rocky mountain company, was dispatched on their trail. they had not traveled long before they came up with the blackfeet, but the horses were nowhere to be seen, having been secreted, after the manner of these thieves, in some defile of the mountains, until the skirmish was over which they knew well enough to anticipate. accordingly when the trappers came up, the wily savages were prepared for them. their numbers were inferior to that of the whites; accordingly they assumed an innocent and peace-desiring air, while their head man advanced with the inevitable peace-pipe, to have a "talk." but as their talk was a tissue of lies, the trappers soon lost patience, and a quarrel quickly arose. the indians betook themselves to the defences which were selected beforehand, and a fight began, which without giving to either party the victory of arms, ended in the killing of two or three of the blackfeet, and the wounding very severely of kit carson. the firing ceased with nightfall; and when morning came, as usual the blackfeet were gone, and the trappers returned to camp without their horses. the lost animals were soon replaced by purchase from the nez perces, and the company divided up into brigades, some destined for the country east of the mountains, and others for the south and west. in this year meek rose a grade above the hired trapper, and became one of the order denominated skin trappers. these, like the hired trappers, depend upon the company to furnish them an outfit; but do not receive regular wages, as do the others. they trap for themselves, only agreeing to sell their beaver to the company which furnishes the outfit, and to no other. in this capacity, our joe, and a few associates, hunted this spring, in the snake river and salt lake countries; returning as usual to the annual rendezvous, which was appointed this summer to meet on green river. here were the rocky mountain and american companies; the st. louis company, under capt. wm. sublette and his friend campbell; the usual camp of indian allies; and, a few miles distant, that of captain bonneville. in addition to all these, was a small company belonging to capt. stuart, an englishman of noble family, who was traveling in the far west only to gratify his own love of wild adventure, and admiration of all that is grand and magnificent in nature. with him was an artist named miller, and several servants; but he usually traveled in company with one or another of the fur companies; thus enjoying their protection, and at the same time gaining a knowledge of the habits of mountain life. the rendezvous, at this time, furnished him a striking example of some of the ways of mountain-men, least to their honorable fame; and we fear we must confess that our friend joe meek, who had been gathering laurels as a valiant hunter and trapper during the three or four years of his apprenticeship, was also becoming fitted, by frequent practice, to graduate in some of the vices of camp life, especially the one of conviviality during rendezvous. had he not given his permission, we should not perhaps have said what he says of himself, that he was at such times often very "powerful drunk." during the indulgence of these excesses, while at this rendezvous, there occurred one of those incidents of wilderness life which make the blood creep with horror. twelve of the men were bitten by a mad wolf, which hung about the camp for two or three nights. two of these were seized with madness in camp, sometime afterwards, and ran off into the mountains, where they perished. one was attacked by the paroxysm while on a hunt; when, throwing himself off his horse, he struggled and foamed at the mouth, gnashing his teeth, and barking like a wolf. yet he retained consciousness enough to warn away his companions, who hastened in search of assistance; but when they returned he was nowhere to be found. it was thought that he was seen a day or two afterwards, but no one could come up with him, and of course, he too, perished. another died on his journey to st. louis; and several died at different times within the next two years. at the time, however, immediately following the visit of the wolf to camp, captain stuart was admonishing meek on the folly of his ways, telling him that the wolf might easily have bitten him, he was so drunk. "it would have killed him,--sure, if it hadn't cured him!" said meek,--alluding to the belief that alcohol is a remedy for the poison of hydrophobia. when sobriety returned, and work was once more to be resumed, meek returned with three or four associates to the salt lake country, to trap on the numerous streams that flow down from the mountains to the east of salt lake. he had not been long in this region when he fell in on bear river with a company of bonneville's men, one hundred and eighteen in number, under jo walker, who had been sent to explore the great salt lake, and the adjacent country; to make charts, keep a journal, and, in short, make a thorough discovery of all that region. great expectations were cherished by the captain concerning this favorite expedition, which were, however, utterly blighted, as his historian has recorded. the disappointment and loss which bonneville suffered from it, gave a tinge of prejudice to his delineations of the trapper's character. it was true that they did not explore salt lake; and that they made a long and expensive journey, collecting but few peltries. it is true also, that they caroused in true mountain style, while among the californians: but that the expedition was unprofitable was due chiefly to the difficulties attending the exploration of a new country, a large portion of which was desert and mountain. but let us not anticipate. when meek and his companions fell in with jo walker and his company, they resolved to accompany the expedition; for it was "a feather in a man's cap," and made his services doubly valuable to have become acquainted with a new country, and fitted himself for a pilot. on leaving bear river, where the hunters took the precaution to lay in a store of dried meat, the company passed down on the west side of salt lake, and found themselves in the salt lake desert, where their store, insufficiently large, soon became reduced to almost nothing. here was experienced again the sufferings to which meek had once before been subjected in the digger country, which, in fact, bounded this desert on the northwest. "there was," says bonneville, "neither tree, nor herbage, nor spring, nor pool, nor running stream; nothing but parched wastes of sand, where horse and rider were in danger of perishing." many an emigrant has since confirmed the truth of this account. it could not be expected that men would continue on in such a country, in that direction which offered no change for the better. discerning at last a snowy range to the northwest, they traveled in that direction; pinched with famine, and with tongues swollen out of their mouths with thirst. they came at last to a small stream, into which both men and animals plunged to quench their raging thirst. the instinct of a mule on these desert journeys is something wonderful. we have heard it related by others besides the mountain-men, that they will detect the neighborhood of water long before their riders have discovered a sign; and setting up a gallop, when before they could hardly walk, will dash into the water up to their necks, drinking in the life-saving moisture through every pore of the skin, while they prudently refrain from swallowing much of it. if one of a company has been off on a hunt for water, and on finding it has let his mule drink, when he returns to camp, the other animals will gather about it, and snuff its breath, and even its body, betraying the liveliest interest and envy. it is easy to imagine that in the case of jo walker's company, not only the animals but the men were eager to steep themselves in the reviving waters of the first stream which they found on the border of this weary desert. it proved to be a tributary of mary's or ogden's river, along which the company pursued their way, trapping as they went, and living upon the flesh of the beaver. they had now entered upon the same country inhabited by digger indians, in which milton sublette's brigade had so nearly perished with famine the previous year. it was unexplored, and the natives were as curious about the movements of their white visitors, as indians always are on the first appearance of civilized men. they hung about the camps, offering no offences by day, but contriving to do a great deal of thieving during the night-time. each day, for several days, their numbers increased, until the army which dogged the trappers by day, and filched from them at night, numbered nearly a thousand. they had no guns; but carried clubs, and some bows and arrows. the trappers at length became uneasy at this accumulation of force, even though they had no fire-arms, for was it not this very style of people, armed with clubs, that attacked smith's party on the umpqua, and killed all but four? "we must kill a lot of them, boys," said jo walker. "it will never do to let that crowd get into camp." accordingly, as the indians crowded round at a ford of mary's river, always a favorite time of attack with the savages, walker gave the order to fire, and the whole company poured a volley into the jostling crowd. the effect was terrible. seventy-five diggers bit the dust; while the others, seized with terror and horror at this new and instantaneous mode of death, fled howling away, the trappers pursuing them until satisfied that they were too much frightened to return. this seemed to captain bonneville, when he came to hear of it, like an unnecessary and ferocious act. but bonneville was not an experienced indian fighter. his views of their character were much governed by his knowledge of the flatheads and nez perces; and also by the immunity from harm he enjoyed among the shoshonies on the snake river, where the hudson's bay company had brought them into subjection, and where even two men might travel in safety at the time of his residence in that country. walker's company continued on down to the main or humboldt river, trapping as they went, both for the furs, and for something to eat; and expecting to find that the river whose course they were following through these barren plains, would lead them to some more important river, or to some large lake or inland sea. this was a country entirely unknown, even to the adventurous traders and trappers of the fur companies, who avoided it because it was out of the buffalo range; and because the borders of it, along which they sometimes skirted, were found to be wanting in water-courses in which beaver might be looked for. walker's company therefore, now determined to prosecute their explorations until they came to some new and profitable beaver grounds. but after a long march through an inhospitable country they came at last to where the humboldt sinks itself in a great swampy lake, in the midst of deserts of sage-brush. here was the end of their great expectations. to the west of them, however, and not far off, rose the lofty summits of the sierra nevada range, some of whose peaks were covered with eternal snows. since they had already made an unprofitable business of their expedition, and failed in its principal aim, that of exploring salt lake, they resolved upon crossing the mountains into california, and seeking new fields of adventure on the western side of the nevada mountains. accordingly, although it was already late in the autumn, the party pushed on toward the west, until they came to pyramid lake, another of those swampy lakes which are frequently met with near the eastern base of these sierras. into this flowed a stream similar to the humboldt, which came from the south, and, they believed, had its rise in the mountains. as it was important to find a good pass, they took their course along this stream, which they named trucker's river, and continued along it to its head-waters in the sierras. and now began the arduous labor of crossing an unknown range of lofty mountains. mountaineers as they were, they found it a difficult undertaking, and one attended with considerable peril. for a period of more than three weeks they were struggling with these dangers; hunting paths for their mules and horses, traveling around canyons thousands of feet deep; sometimes sinking in new fallen snow; always hungry, and often in peril from starvation. sometimes they scrambled up almost smooth declivities of granite, that offered no foothold save the occasional seams in the rock; at others they traveled through pine forests made nearly impassable by snow; and at other times on a ridge which wind and sun made bare for them. all around rose rocky peaks and pinnacles fretted by ages of denudation to very spears and needles of a burnt looking, red colored rock. below, were spread out immense fields, or rather oceans, of granite that seemed once to have been a molten sea, whose waves were suddenly congealed. from the fissures between these billows grew stunted pines, which had found a scanty soil far down in the crevices of the rock for their hardy roots. following the course of any stream flowing in the right direction for their purpose, they came not infrequently to some small fertile valley, set in amidst the rocks like a cup, and often containing in its depth a bright little lake. these are the oases in the mountain deserts. but the lateness of the season made it necessary to avoid the high valleys on account of the snow, which in winter accumulates to a depth of twenty feet. great was the exultation of the mountaineers when they emerged from the toils and dangers, safe into the bright and sunny plains of california; having explored almost the identical route since fixed upon for the union pacific railroad. they proceeded down the sacramento valley, toward the coast, after recruiting their horses on the ripe wild oats, and the freshly springing grass which the december rains had started into life, and themselves on the plentiful game of the foot-hills. something of the stimulus of the californian climate seemed to be imparted to the ever buoyant blood of these hardy and danger-despising men. they were mad with delight on finding themselves, after crossing the stern sierras, in a land of sunshine and plenty; a beautiful land of verdant hills and tawny plains; of streams winding between rows of alder and willow, and valleys dotted with picturesque groves of the evergreen oak. instead of the wild blasts which they were used to encounter in december, they experienced here only those dainty and wooing airs which poets have ascribed to spring, but which seldom come even with the last may days in an eastern climate. in the san josé valley they encountered a party of one hundred soldiers, which the spanish government at monterey had sent out to take a party of indians accused of stealing cattle. the soldiers were native californians, descendants of the mixed blood of spain and mexico, a wild, jaunty looking set of fellows, who at first were inclined to take walker's party for a band of cattle thieves, and to march them off to monterey. but the rocky mountain trapper was not likely to be taken prisoner by any such brigade as the dashing _cabelleros_ of monterey. after astonishing them with a series of whoops and yells, and trying to astonish them with feats of horsemanship, they began to discover that when it came to the latter accomplishment, even mountain-men could learn something from a native californian. in this latter frame of mind they consented to be conducted to monterey as prisoners or not, just as the spanish government should hereafter be pleased to decree; and they had confidence in themselves that they should be able to bend that high and mighty authority to their own purposes thereafter. nor were they mistaken in their calculations. their fearless, free and easy style, united to their complete furnishing of arms, their numbers, and their superior ability to stand up under the demoralizing effect of the favorite _aguadiente_, soon so far influenced the soldiery at least, that the trappers were allowed perfect freedom under the very eyes of the jealous spanish government, and were treated with all hospitality. the month which the trappers spent at monterey was their "red letter day" for a long time after. the habits of the californians accorded with their own, with just difference enough to furnish them with novelties and excitements such as gave a zest to their intercourse. the californian, and the mountain-men, were alike centaurs. horses were their necessity, and their delight; and the plains swarmed with them, as also with wild cattle, descendants of those imported by the jesuit fathers in the early days of the missions. these horses and cattle were placed at the will and pleasure of the trappers. they feasted on one, and bestrode the other as it suited them. they attended bull-fights, ran races, threw the lasso, and played monte, with a relish that delighted the inhabitants of monterey. the partial civilization of the californians accorded with every feeling to which the mountain-men could be brought to confess. to them the refinements of cities would have been oppressive. the adobe houses of monterey were not so restraining in their elegance as to trouble the sensations of men used to the heavens for a roof in summer, and a skin lodge for shelter in winter. some fruits and vegetables, articles not tasted for years, they obtained at the missions, where the priests received them courteously and hospitably, as they had done jedediah smith and his company, five years before, when on their long and disastrous journey they found themselves almost destitute of the necessaries of life, upon their arrival in california. there was something too, in the dress of the people, both men and women, which agreed with, while differing from, the dress of the mountaineers and their now absent indian dulcineas. [illustration: _branding cattle._] the men wore garments of many colors, consisting of blue velveteen breeches and jacket, the jacket having a scarlet collar and cuffs, and the breeches being open at the knee to display the stocking of white. beneath these were displayed high buskins made of deer skin, fringed down the outside of the ankle, and laced with a cord and tassels. on the head was worn a broad brimmed _sombrero_; and over the shoulders the jaunty mexican _sarape_. when they rode, the californians wore enormous spurs, fastened on by jingling chains. their saddles were so shaped that it was difficult to dislodge the rider, being high before and behind; and the indispensable lasso hung coiled from the pommel. their stirrups were of wood, broad on the bottom, with a guard of leather that protected the fancy buskin of the horseman from injury. thus accoutred, and mounted on a wild horse, the californian was a suitable comrade, in appearance, at least, for the buckskin clad trapper, with his high beaver-skin cap, his gay scarf, and moccasins, and profusion of arms. the dress of the women was a gown of gaudy calico or silk, and a bright colored shawl, which served for mantilla and bonnet together. they were well formed, with languishing eyes and soft voices; and doubtless appeared charming in the eyes of our band of trappers, with whom they associated freely at fandangoes, bull-fights, or bear-baitings. in such company, what wonder that bonneville's men lingered for a whole month! what wonder that the california expedition was a favorite theme by camp-fires, for a long time subsequent? . in february the trappers bethought themselves of returning to the mountains. the route fixed upon was one which should take them through southern california, and new mexico, along the course of all the principal rivers. crossing the coast mountains, into the valley of the san joaquin, they followed its windings until they came to its rise in the lulare lake. thence turning in a southeasterly course, they came to the colorado, at the mohave villages, where they traded with the natives, whom they found friendly. keeping on down the colorado, to the mouth of the gila, they turned back from that river, and ascended the colorado once more, to williams' fork, and up the latter stream to some distance, when they fell in with a company of sixty men under frapp and jervais, two of the partners in the rocky mountain company. the meeting was joyful on all sides; but particularly so between meek and some of his old comrades, with whom he had fought indians and grizzly bears, or set beaver traps on some lonely stream in the blackfoot country. a lively exchange of questions and answers took place, while gaiety and good feeling reigned. frapp had been out quite as long as the monterey party. it was seldom that the brigade which traversed the southern country, on the colorado, and its large tributaries, returned to winter quarters; for in the region where they trapped winter was unknown, and the journey to the northern country a long and hazardous one. but the reunited trappers had each their own experiences to relate. the two companies united made a party nearly two hundred strong. keeping with frapp, they crossed over from williams' fork to the colorado chiquito river, at the moquis village, where some of the men disgraced themselves far more than did jo walker's party at the crossing of mary's river. for the moquis were a half-civilized nation, who had houses and gardens, and conducted themselves kindly, or at the worst peaceably, toward properly behaved strangers. these trappers, instead of approaching them with offers of purchase, lawlessly entered their gardens, rifling them of whatever fruit or melons were ripe, and not hesitating to destroy that which was not ripe. to this, as might be expected, the moquises objected; and were shot down for so doing. in this truly infamous affair fifteen or twenty of them were killed. "i didn't belong to that crowd," says joe meek, "i sat on the fence and saw it, though. it was a shameful thing." from the moquis village, the joint companies crossed the country in a northeasterly direction, crossing several branches of the colorado at their head-waters, which course finally brought them to the head-waters of the rio grande. the journey from the mouth of the gila, though long, extended over a country comparatively safe. either farther to the south or east, the caravan would have been in danger of a raid from the most dangerous tribes on the continent. chapter ix. . but joe meek was not destined to return to the rocky mountains without having had an indian fight. if adventures did not come in his way he was the man to put himself in the way of adventures. while the camp was on its way from the neighborhood of grande river to the new park, meek, kit carson, and mitchell, with three delaware indians, named tom hill, manhead, and jonas, went on a hunt across to the east of grande river, in the country lying between the arkansas and cimarron, where numerous small branches of these rivers head together, or within a small extent of country. they were about one hundred and fifty miles from camp, and traveling across the open plain between the streams, one beautiful may morning, when about five miles off they descried a large band of indians mounted, and galloping toward them. as they were in the camanche country, they knew what to expect if they allowed themselves to be taken prisoners. they gave but a moment to the observation of their foes, but that one moment revealed a spirited scene. fully two hundred camanches, their warriors in front, large and well formed men, mounted on fleet and powerful horses, armed with spears and battle axes, racing like the wind over the prairie, their feather head-dresses bending to the breeze, that swept past them in the race with double force; all distinctly seen in the clear air of the prairie, and giving the beholder a thrill of fear mingled with admiration. [illustration: _the mule fort._] the first moment given to this spectacle, the second one was employed to devise some means of escape. to run was useless. the swift camanche steeds would soon overtake them; and then their horrible doom was fixed. no covert was at hand, neither thicket nor ravine, as in the mountains there might have been. carson and meek exchanged two or three sentences. at last, "we must kill our mules!" said they. that seems a strange devise to the uninitiated reader, who no doubt believes that in such a case their mules must be their salvation. and so they were intended to be. in this plight a dead mule was far more useful than a live one. to the ground sprang every man; and placing their mules, seven in number, in a ring, they in an instant cut their throats with their hunting knives, and held on to the bridles until each animal fell dead in its appointed place. then hastily scooping up what earth they could with knives, they made themselves a fort--a hole to stand in for each man, and a dead mule for a breastwork. in less than half an hour the camanches charged on them; the medicine-man in advance shouting, gesticulating, and making a desperate clatter with a rattle which he carried and shook violently. the yelling, the whooping, the rattling, the force of the charge were appalling. but the little garrison in the mule fort did not waver. the camanche horses did. they could not be made to charge upon the bloody carcasses of the mules, nor near enough for their riders to throw a spear into the fort. this was what the trappers had relied upon. they were cool and determined, while terribly excited and wrought up by their situation. it was agreed that no more than three should fire at a time, the other three reserving their fire while the empty guns could be reloaded. they were to pick their men, and kill one at every shot. they acted up to their regulations. at the charge the camanche horses recoiled and could not be urged upon the fort of slaughtered mules. the three whites fired first, and the medicine-man and two other camanches fell. when a medicine-man is killed, the others retire to hold a council and appoint another, for without their "medicine" they could not expect success in battle. this was time gained. the warriors retired, while their women came up and carried off the dead. after devoting a little time to bewailing the departed, another chief was appointed to the head place, and another furious charge was made with the same results as before. three more warriors bit the dust; while the spears of their brethren, attached to long hair ropes by which they could be withdrawn, fell short of reaching the men in the fort. again and again the camanches made a fruitless charge, losing, as often as they repeated it, three warriors, either dead or wounded. three times that day the head chief or medicine-man was killed; and when that happened, the heroes in the fort got a little time to breathe. while the warriors held a council, the women took care of the wounded and slain. as the women approached the fort to carry off the fallen warriors, they mocked and reviled the little band of trappers, calling them "women," for fighting in a fort, and resorting to the usual indian ridicule and gasconade. occasionally, also, a warrior raced at full speed past the fort apparently to take observations. thus the battle continued through the entire day. it was terrible work for the trappers. the burning sun of the plains shone on them, scorching them to faintness. their faces were begrimed with powder and dust; their throats parched, and tongues swollen with thirst, and their whole frames aching from their cramped positions, as well as the excitement and fatigue of the battle. but they dared not relax their vigilance for a moment. they were fighting for their lives, and they meant to win. at length the sun set on that bloody and wearisome day. forty-two camanches were killed, and several more wounded, for the charge had been repeated fifteen or twenty times. the indians drew off at nightfall to mourn over their dead, and hold a council. probably they had lost faith in their medicines, or believed that the trappers possessed one far greater than any of theirs. under the friendly cover of the night, the six heroes who had fought successfully more than a hundred camanches, took each his blanket and his gun, and bidding a brief adieu to dead mules and beaver packs, set out to return to camp. when a mountain-man had a journey to perform on foot, to travel express, or to escape from an enemy, he fell into what is called a dog trot, and ran in that manner, sometimes, all day. on the present occasion, the six, escaping for life, ran all night, and found no water for seventy-five mile. when they did at last come to a clear running stream, their thankfulness was equal to their necessity, "for," says meek, "thirst is the greatest suffering i ever experienced. it is far worse than hunger or pain." having rested and refreshed themselves at the stream, they kept on without much delay until they reached camp in that beautiful valley of the rocky mountains called the new, or the south park. while they remained in the south park, mr. guthrie, one of the rocky mountain company's traders, was killed by lightning. a number of persons were collected in the lodge of the booshway, frapp, to avoid the rising tempest, when guthrie, who was leaning against the lodge pole, was struck by a flash of the electric current, and fell dead instantly. frapp rushed out of the lodge, partly bewildered himself by the shock, and under the impression that guthrie had been shot. frapp was a german, and spoke english somewhat imperfectly. in the excitement of the moment he shouted out, "by ----, who did shoot guttery!" "-- a'----, i expect: he's a firing into camp;" drawled out hawkins, whose ready wit was very disregardful of sacred names and subjects. the mountaineers were familiar with the most awful aspects of nature; and if their familiarity had not bred contempt, it had at least hardened them to those solemn impressions which other men would have felt under their influence. from new park, meek traveled north with the main camp, passing first to the old park; thence to the little snake, a branch of bear river; thence to pilot butte; and finally to green river to rendezvous; having traveled in the past year about three thousand miles, on horseback, through new and often dangerous countries. it is easy to believe that the monterey expedition was the popular theme in camp during rendezvous. it had been difficult to get volunteers for bonneville's salt lake exploration: but such was the wild adventure to which it led, that volunteering for a trip to monterey would have been exceedingly popular immediately thereafter. on bear river, bonneville's men fell in with their commander, captain bonneville, whose disappointment and indignation at the failure of his plans was exceedingly great. in this indignation there was considerable justice; yet much of his disappointment was owing to causes which a more experienced trader would have avoided. the only conclusion which can be arrived at by an impartial observer of the events of - , is, that none but certain men of long experience and liberal means, could succeed in the business of the fur-trade. there were too many chances of loss; too many wild elements to be mingled in amity; and too powerful opposition from the old established companies. captain bonneville's experience was no different from mr. wyeth's. in both cases there was much effort, outlay, and loss. nor was their failure owing to any action of the hudson's bay company, different from, or more tyrannical, than the action of the american companies, as has frequently been represented. it was the american companies in the rocky mountains that drove both bonneville and wyeth out of the field. their inexperience could not cope with the thorough knowledge of the business, and the country, which their older rivals possessed. raw recruits were no match, in trapping or fighting, for old mountaineers: and those veterans who had served long under certain leaders could not be inveigled from their service except upon the most extravagant offers; and these extravagant wages, which if one paid, the other must, would not allow a profit to either of the rivals. "how much does your company pay you?" asked bonneville of meek, to whom he was complaining of the conduct of his men on the monterey expedition. "fifteen hundred dollars," answered meek. "yes: and _i_ will give it to you," said bonneville with bitterness. it was quite true. such was the competition aroused by the captain's efforts to secure good men and pilots, that rather than lose them to a rival company, the rocky mountain company paid a few of their best men the wages above named. chapter x. . the gossip at rendezvous was this year of an unusually exciting character. of the brigades which left for different parts of the country the previous summer, the monterey travelers were not the only ones who had met with adventures. fitzpatrick, who had led a party into the crow country that autumn, had met with a characteristic reception from that nation of cunning vagabonds. being with his party on lougue river, in the early part of september, he discovered that he was being dogged by a considerable band of crows, and endeavored to elude their spying; but all to no purpose. the crow chief kept in his neighborhood, and finally expressed a desire to bring his camp alongside that of fitzpatrick, pretending to the most friendly and honorable sentiments toward his white neighbors. but not feeling any confidence in crow friendship, fitzpatrick declined, and moved camp a few miles away. not, however, wishing to offend the dignity of the apparently friendly chief, he took a small escort, and went to pay a visit to his crow neighbors, that they might see that he was not afraid to trust them. alas, vain subterfuge! while he was exchanging civilities with the crow chief, a party of the young braves stole out of camp, and taking advantage of the leader's absence, made an attack on his camp, so sudden and successful that not a horse, nor anything else which they could make booty of was left. even captain stuart, who was traveling with fitzpatrick, and who was an active officer, was powerless to resist the attack, and had to consent to see the camp rifled of everything valuable. in the meantime fitzpatrick, after concluding his visit in the most amicable manner, was returning to camp, when he was met by the exultant braves, who added insult to injury by robbing him of his horse, gun, and nearly all his clothes, leaving him to return to his party in a deplorable condition, to the great amusement of the trappers, and his own chagrin. however, the next day a talk was held with the head chief of the crows, to whom fitzpatrick represented the infamy of such treacherous conduct in a very strong light. in answer to this reproof, the chief disowned all knowledge of the affair; saying that he could not always control the conduct of the young men, who would be a little wild now and then, in spite of the best crow precepts: but that he would do what he could to have the property restored. accordingly, after more talk, and much eloquence on the part of fitzpatrick, the chief part of the plunder was returned to him, including the horses and rifles of the men, together with a little ammunition, and a few beaver traps. fitzpatrick understood the meaning of this apparent fairness, and hastened to get out of the crow country before another raid by the mischievous young braves, at a time when their chief was not "honor bound," should deprive him of the recovered property. that his conjecture was well founded, was proven by the numerous petty thefts which were committed, and by the loss of several horses and mules, before he could remove them beyond the limits of the crow territory. while the trappers exchanged accounts of their individual experiences, the leaders had more important matters to gossip over. the rivalry between the several fur companies was now at its climax. through the energy and ability of captain sublette of the st. louis company, and the experience and industry of the rocky mountain company, which captain sublette still continued to control in a measure, the power still remained with them. the american company had never been able to cope with them in the rocky mountains; and the st. louis company were already invading their territory on the missouri river, by carrying goods up that river in boats, to trade with the indians under the very walls of the american company's forts. in august of the previous year, when mr. nathaniel wyeth had started on his return to the states, he was accompanied as far as the mouth of the yellowstone by milton sublette; and had engaged with that gentleman to furnish him with goods the following year, as he believed he could do, cheaper than the st. louis company, who purchased their goods in st. louis at a great advance on boston prices. but milton sublette fell in with his brother the captain, at the mouth of the yellowstone, with a keel-boat loaded with merchandise; and while wyeth pursued his way eastward to purchase the indian goods which were intended to supply the wants of the fur-traders in the rocky mountains, at a profit to him, and an advantage to them, the captain was persuading his brother not to encourage any interlopers in the indian trade; but to continue to buy goods from himself, as formerly. so potent were his arguments, that milton yielded to them, in spite of his engagement with wyeth. thus during the autumn of , while bonneville was being wronged and robbed, as he afterwards became convinced, by his men under walker, and anticipated in the hunting-ground selected for himself, in the crow country, by fitzpatrick, as he had previously been in the snake country by milton sublette, wyeth was proceeding to boston in good faith, to execute what proved to be a fool's errand. bonneville also had gone on another, when after the trapping season was over he left his camp to winter on the snake river, and started with a small escort to visit the columbia, and select a spot for a trading-post on the lower portion of that river. on arriving at wallah-wallah, after a hard journey over the blue mountains in the winter, the agent at that post had refused to supply him with provisions to prosecute his journey, and given him to understand that the hudson's bay company might be polite and hospitable to captain bonneville as the gentleman, but that it was against their regulations to encourage the advent of other traders who would interfere with their business, and unsettle the minds of the indians in that region. this reply so annoyed the captain, that he refused the well meant advice of mr. pambrun that he should not undertake to recross the blue mountains in march snows, but travel under the escort of mr. payette, one of the hudson's bay company's leaders, who was about starting for the nez perce country by a safer if more circuitous route. he therefore set out to return by the route he came, and only arrived at camp in may, , after many dangers and difficulties. from the portneuf river, he then proceeded with his camp to explore the little snake river, and snake lake; and it was while so doing that he fell in with his men just returned from monterey. such was the relative position of the several fur companies in the rocky mountains in ; and it was of such matters that the leaders talked in the lodge of the booshways, at rendezvous. in the meantime wyeth arrived in the mountains with his goods, as he had contracted with milton sublette in the previous year. but on his heels came captain sublette, also with goods, and the rocky mountain company violated their contract with wyeth, and purchased of their old leader. thus was wyeth left, with his goods on his hands, in a country where it was impossible to sell them, and useless to undertake an opposition to the already established fur-traders and trappers. his indignation was great, and certainly was just. in his interview with the rocky mountain company, in reply to their excuses for, and vindication of their conduct, his answer was: "gentlemen, i will roll a stone into your garden that you will never be able to get out." and he kept his promise; for that same autumn he moved on to the snake river, and built fort hall, storing his goods therein. the next year he sold out goods and fort to the hudson's bay company; and the stone was in the garden of the rocky mountain fur company that they were never able to dislodge. when wyeth had built his fort and left it in charge of an agent, he dispatched a party of trappers to hunt in the big blackfoot country, under joseph gale, who had previously been in the service of the rocky mountain company, and of whom we shall learn more hereafter, while he set out for the columbia to meet his vessel, and establish a salmon fishery. the fate of that enterprise has already been recorded. as for bonneville, he made one more effort to reach the lower columbia; failing, however, a second time, for the same reason as before--he could not subsist himself and company in a country where even every indian refused to sell to him either furs or provisions. after being reduced to horse-flesh, and finding no encouragement that his condition would be improved farther down the river, he turned back once more from about wallah-wallah, and returned to the mountains, and from there to the east in the following year. a company of his trappers, however, continued to hunt for him east of the mountains for two or three years longer. the rivalry between the rocky mountain and american companies was this year diminished by their mutually agreeing to confine themselves to certain parts of the country, which treaty continued for two years, when they united in one company. they were then, with the exception of a few lone traders, the only competitors of the hudson's bay company, for the fur-trade of the west. [illustration: view on the columbia.] chapter xi. . the rocky mountain company now confined themselves to the country lying east of the mountains, and upon the head-waters and tributaries of the missouri, a country very productive in furs, and furnishing abundance of game. but it was also the most dangerous of all the northern fur-hunting territory, as it was the home of those two nations of desperadoes, the crows and blackfeet. during the two years in which the company may have been said almost to reside there, desperate encounters and hair-breadth escapes were incidents of daily occurrence to some of the numerous trapping parties. the camp had reached the blackfoot country in the autumn of this year, and the trappers were out in all directions, hunting beaver in the numerous small streams that flow into the missouri. on a small branch of the gallatin fork, some of the trappers fell in with a party of wyeth's men, under joseph gale. when their neighborhood became known to the rocky mountain camp, meek and a party of sixteen of his associates immediately resolved to pay them a visit, and inquire into their experience since leaving rendezvous. these visits between different camps are usually seasons of great interest and general rejoicing. but glad as gale and his men were to meet with old friends, when the first burst of hearty greeting was over, they had but a sorry experience to relate. they had been out a long time. the blackfeet had used them badly--several men had been killed. their guns were out of order, their ammunition all but exhausted; they were destitute, or nearly so, of traps, blankets, knives, everything. they were what the indian and the mountain-man call "very poor." half the night was spent in recounting all that had passed in both companies since the fall hunt began. little sympathy did wyeth's men receive for their forlorn condition, for sympathy is repudiated by your true mountaineer for himself, nor will he furnish it to others. the absurd and humorous, or the daring and reckless, side of a story is the only one which is dwelt upon in narrating his adventures. the laugh which is raised at his expense when he has a tale of woes to communicate, is a better tonic to his dejected spirits than the gentlest pity would be. thus lashed into courage again, he is ready to declare that all his troubles were only so much pastime. it was this sort of cheer which the trapping party conveyed to wyeth's men on this visit, and it was gratefully received, as being of the true kind. in the morning the party set out to return to camp, meek and liggit starting in advance of the others. they had not proceeded far when they were fired on by a large band of blackfeet, who came upon them quite suddenly, and thinking these two trappers easy game, set up a yell and dashed at them. as meek and liggit turned back and ran to gale's camp, the indians in full chase charged on them, and rushed pell-mell into the midst of camp, almost before they had time to discover that they had surprised so large a party of whites. so sudden was their advent, that they had almost taken the camp before the whites could recover from the confusion of the charge. it was but a momentary shock, however. in another instant the roar of twenty guns reverberated from the mountains that rose high on either side of camp. the blackfeet were taken in a snare; but they rallied and fell back beyond the grove in which the camp was situated, setting on fire the dry grass as they went. the fire quickly spread to the grove, and shot up the pine trees in splendid columns of flame, that seemed to lick the face of heaven. the indians kept close behind the fire, shooting into camp whenever they could approach near enough, the trappers replying by frequent volleys. the yells of the savages, the noise of the flames roaring in the trees, the bellowing of the guns, whose echoes rolled among the hills, and the excitement of a battle for life, made the scene one long to be remembered with distinctness. both sides fought with desperation. the blackfoot blood was up--the trapper blood no less. gale's men, from having no ammunition, nor guns that were in order, could do little more than take charge of the horses, which they led out into the bottom land to escape the fire, fight the flames, and look after the camp goods. the few whose guns were available, showed the game spirit, and the fight became interesting as an exhibition of what mountain white men could do in a contest of one to ten, with the crack warriors of the red race. it was, at any time, a game party, consisting of meek, carson, hawkins, gale, liggit, rider, robinson, anderson, russel, larison, ward, parmaley, wade, michael head, and a few others whose names have been forgotten. the trappers being driven out of the grove by the fire, were forced to take to the open ground. the indians, following the fire, had the advantage of the shelter afforded by the trees, and their shots made havoc among the horses, most of which were killed because they could not be taken. as for the trappers, they used the horses for defence, making rifle-pits behind them, when no other covert could be found. in this manner the battle was sustained until three o'clock in the afternoon, without loss of life to the whites, though several men were wounded. at three in the afternoon, the blackfoot chief ordered a retreat, calling out to the trappers that they would fight no more. though their loss had been heavy, they still greatly outnumbered the whites; nor would the condition of the arms and the small amount of ammunition left permit the trappers to pursue them. the indians were severely beaten, and no longer in a condition to fight, all of which was highly satisfactory to the victors. the only regret was, that bridger's camp, which had become aware during the day that a battle was going on in the neighborhood, did not arrive early enough to exterminate the whole band. as it was, the big camp only came up in time to assist in taking care of the wounded. the destruction of their horses put an end to the independent existence of gale's brigade, which joined itself and its fortunes to bridger's command for the remainder of the year. had it not been for the fortunate visit of the trappers to gale's camp, without doubt every man in it would have perished at the hands of the blackfeet: a piece of bad fortune not unaccordant with that which seemed to pursue the enterprises set on foot by the active but unlucky new england trader. not long after this battle with the blackfeet, meek and a trapper named crow, with two shawnees, went over into the crow country to trap on pryor's river, a branch of the yellowstone. on coming to the pass in the mountains between the gallatin fork of the missouri and the great bend in the yellowstone, called pryor's gap, meek rode forward, with the mad-cap spirit strong in him, to "have a little fun with the boys," and advancing a short distance into the pass, wheeled suddenly, and came racing back, whooping and yelling, to make his comrades think he had discovered indians. and lo! as if his yells had invoked them from the rocks and trees, a war party suddenly emerged from the pass, on the heels of the jester, and what had been sport speedily became earnest, as the trappers turned their horses' heads and made off in the direction of camp. they had a fine race of it, and heard other yells and war-whoops besides their own; but they contrived to elude their pursuers, returning safe to camp. this freak of meek's was, after all, a fortunate inspiration, for had the four trappers entered the pass and come upon the war party of crows, they would never have escaped alive. a few days after, the same party set out again, and succeeded in reaching pryor's river unmolested, and setting their traps. they remained some time in this neighborhood trapping, but the season had become pretty well advanced, and they were thinking of returning to camp for the winter. the shawnees set out in one direction to take up their traps, meek and crow in another. the stream where their traps were set was bordered by thickets of willow, wild cherry, and plum trees, and the bank was about ten feet above the water at this season of the year. meek had his traps set in the stream about midway between two thickets. as he approached the river he observed with the quick eye of an experienced mountain-man, certain signs which gave him little satisfaction. the buffalo were moving off as if disturbed; a bear ran suddenly out of its covert among the willows. "i told crow," said meek, "that i didn't like to go in there. he laughed at me, and called me a coward. 'all the same,' i said; i had no fancy for the place just then--i didn't like the indications. but he kept jeering me, and at last i got mad and started in. just as i got to my traps, i discovered that two red devils war a watching me from the shelter of the thicket to my left, about two rods off. when they saw that they war discovered they raised their guns and fired. i turned my horse's head at the same instant, and one ball passed through his neck, under the neck bone, and the other through his withers, just forward of my saddle. "seeing that they had not hit me, one of them ran up with a spear to spear me. my horse war rearing and pitching from the pain of his wounds, so that i could with difficulty govern him; but i had my gun laid across my arm, and when i fired i killed the rascal with the spear. up to that moment i had supposed that them two war all i had to deal with. but as i got my horse turned round, with my arm raised to fire at the other red devil, i encountered the main party, forty-nine of them, who war in the bed of the stream, and had been covered by the bank. they fired a volley at me. eleven balls passed through my blanket, under my arm, which war raised. i thought it time to run, and run i did. crow war about two hundred yards off. so quick had all this happened, that he had not stirred from the spot whar i left him. when i came up to him i called out that i must get on behind him, for my horse war sick and staggering. "'try him again,' said crow, who war as anxious to be off as i war. i did try him agin, and sure enough, he got up a gallop, and away we went, the blackfeet after us. but being mounted, we had the advantage, and soon distanced them. before we had run a mile, i had to dismount and breathe my horse. we war in a narrow pass whar it war impossible to hide, so when the indians came up with us, as they did, while i war dismounted we took sure aim and killed the two foremost ones. before the others could get close enough to fire we war off agin. it didn't take much urging to make my horse go then, for the yells of them blackfeet spurred him on. "when we had run another mile i dismounted agin, for fear that my horse would give out, and agin we war overtaken. them blackfeet are powerful runners:--no better than us mountain-men, though. this time we served them just as we did before. we picked off two of the foremost, and then went on, the rest whooping after us. we war overtaken a third time in the same manner; and the third time two blackfeet fell dead in advance. at this, they took the hint. six warriors already gone for two white scalps and two horses; they didn't know how many more would go in the same way. and i reckon they had run about all they wanted to, anyway." it is only necessary to add that meek and crow arrived safely at camp; and that the shawnees came in after a day or two all right. soon after the whole command under bridger moved on to the yellowstone, and went into winter camp in the great bend of that river, where buffalo were plenty, and cotton-wood was in abundance. . towards spring, however, the game had nearly all disappeared from the neighborhood of the camp; and the hunters were forced to follow the buffalo in their migration eastward. on one of these expeditions a party of six trappers, including meek, and a man named rose, made their camp on clarke's fork of the yellowstone. the first night in camp rose had a dream with which he was very much impressed. he dreamed of shaking hands with a large white bear, which insisted on taking his right hand for that friendly ceremony. he had not given it very willingly, for he knew too much about bears in general to desire to be on very intimate terms with them. seeing that the dream troubled rose, who was superstitiously inclined, meek resorted to that "certain medicine for minds diseased" which was in use in the mountains, and added to the distress of rose his interpretation, in the spirit of ridicule, telling him that he was an adept in the matter of dreams, and that unless he, rose, was very mindful of himself that day, he would shake hands with beelzebub before he slept again. with this comforting assurance, rose set out with the remainder of the party to hunt buffalo. they had proceeded about three miles from camp, rose riding in advance, when they suddenly encountered a company of blackfeet, nine in number, spies from a war party of one hundred and fifty, that was prowling and marauding through the country on the lookout for small parties from the camp of bridger. the blackfeet fired on the party as it came up, from their place of concealment, a ball striking rose's right arm, and breaking it at the elbow. this caused his gun to fall, and an indian sprang forward and raised it up quickly, aiming it at meek. the ball passed through his cap without doing any other harm. by this time the trappers were made aware of an ambuscade; but how numerous the enemy was they could not determine. however, as the rest, who were well-mounted, turned to fly, meek, who was riding an old mule that had to be beaten over the head to make it go, seeing that he was going to be left behind, called out lustily, "hold on, boys! there's not many of them. let's stop and fight 'em;" at the same time pounding the mule over the head, but without effect. the indians saw the predicament, and ran up to seize the mule by the bridle, but the moment the mule got wind of the savages, away he went, racing like a thoroughbred, jumping impediments, and running right over a ravine, which was fortunately filled with snow. this movement brought meek out ahead. the other men then began to call out to meek to stop and fight. "run for your lives, boys," roared meek back at them, "there's ten thousand of them; they'll kill every one of you!" the mule had got his head, and there was no more stopping him than there had been starting him. on he went in the direction of the yellowstone, while the others made for clarke's fork. on arriving at the former river, meek found that some of the pack horses had followed him, and others the rest of the party. this had divided the indians, three or four of whom were on his trail. springing off his mule, he threw his blankets down on the ice, and by moving them alternately soon crossed the mule over to the opposite side, just in time to avoid a bullet that came whistling after him. as the indians could not follow, he pursued his way to camp in safety, arriving late that evening. the main party were already in and expecting him. soon after, the buffalo hunters returned to the big camp, minus some pack horses, but with a good story to tell, at the expense of meek, and which he enjoys telling of himself to this day. chapter xii. . owing to the high rate of pay which meek was now able to command, he began to think of imitating the example of that distinguished order, the free trappers, to which he now belonged, and setting up a lodge to himself as a family man. the writer of this veracious history has never been able to obtain a full and particular account of our hero's earliest love adventures. this is a subject on which, in common with most mountain-men, he observes a becoming reticence. but of one thing we feel quite well assured: that from the time when the young shoshonie beauty assisted in the rescue of himself and sublette from the execution of the death sentence at the hands of her people, meek had always cherished a rather more than friendly regard for the "mountain lamb." [illustration: _the free trapper's indian wife._] but sublette, with wealth and power, and the privileges of a booshway, had hastened to secure her for himself; and meek had to look and long from afar off, until, in the year of which we are writing, milton sublette was forced to leave the mountains and repair to an eastern city for surgical aid; having received a very troublesome wound in the leg, which was only cured at last by amputation. whether it was the act of a gay lothario, or whether the law of divorce is even more easy in the mountains than in indiana, we have always judiciously refrained from inquiring; but this we do know, upon the word of meek himself, no sooner was milton's back turned, than his friend so insinuated himself into the good graces of his _isabel_, as sublette was wont to name the lovely umentucken, that she consented to join her fortunes to those of the handsome young trapper without even the ceremony of serving a notice on her former lord. as their season of bliss only extended over one brief year, this chapter shall be entirely devoted to recording such facts as have been imparted to us concerning this free trapper's wife. "she was the most beautiful indian woman i ever saw," says meek: "and when she was mounted on her dapple gray horse, which cost me three hundred dollars, she made a fine show. she wore a skirt of beautiful blue broadcloth, and a bodice and leggins of scarlet cloth, of the very finest make. her hair was braided and fell over her shoulders, a scarlet silk handkerchief, tied on hood fashion, covered her head; and the finest embroidered moccasins her feet. she rode like all the indian women, astride, and carried on one side of the saddle the tomahawk for war, and on the other the pipe of peace. "the name of her horse was "all fours." his accoutrements were as fine as his rider's. the saddle, crupper, and bust girths cost one hundred and fifty dollars; the bridle fifty dollars; and the musk-a-moots fifty dollars more. all these articles were ornamented with fine cut glass beads, porcupine quills, and hawk's bells, that tinkled at every step. her blankets were of scarlet and blue, and of the finest quality. such was the outfit of the trapper's wife, _umentucken, tukutey undenwatsy_, the lamb of the mountains." although umentucken was beautiful, and had a name signifying gentleness, she was not without a will and a spirit of her own, when the occasion demanded it. while the camp was on the yellowstone river, in the summer of , a party of women left it to go in search of berries, which were often dried and stored for winter use by the indian women. umentucken accompanied this party, which was attacked by a band of blackfeet, some of the squaws being taken prisoners. but umentucken saved herself by flight, and by swimming the yellowstone while a hundred guns were leveled on her, the bullets whistling about her ears. at another time she distinguished herself in camp by a quarrel with one of the trappers, in which she came off with flying colors. the trapper was a big, bullying irishman named o'fallen, who had purchased two prisoners from the snake indians, to be kept in a state of slavery, after the manner of the savages. the prisoners were utes, or utahs, who soon contrived to escape. o'fallen, imagining that umentucken had liberated them, threatened to whip her, and armed himself with a horsewhip for that purpose. on hearing of these threats umentucken repaired to her lodge, and also armed herself, but with a pistol. when o'fallen approached, the whole camp looking on to see the event, umentucken slipped out at the back of the lodge and coming around confronted him before he could enter. "coward!" she cried. "you would whip the wife of meek. he is not here to defend me; not here to kill you. but i shall do that for myself," and with that she presented the pistol to his head. o'fallen taken by surprise, and having every reason to believe she would keep her word, and kill him on the spot, was obliged not only to apologize, but to beg to have his life spared. this umentucken consented to do on condition of his sufficiently humbling himself, which he did in a very shame-faced manner; and a shout then went up from the whole camp--"hurrah for the mountain lamb!" for nothing more delights a mountaineer than a show of pluck, especially in an unlooked for quarter. the indian wives of the trappers were often in great peril, as well as their lords. whenever it was convenient they followed them on their long marches through dangerous countries. but if the trapper was only going out for a few days, or if the march before him was more than usually dangerous, the wife remained with the main camp. during this year of which we are writing, a considerable party had been out on powder river hunting buffalo, taking their wives along with them. when on the return, just before reaching camp, umentucken was missed from the cavalcade. she had fallen behind, and been taken prisoner by a party of twelve crow indians. as soon as she was missed, a volunteer party mounted their buffalo horses in such haste that they waited not for saddle or bridle, but snatched only a halter, and started back in pursuit. they had not run a very long distance when they discovered poor umentucken in the midst of her jubilant captors, who were delighting their eyes with gazing at her fine feathers, and promising themselves very soon to pluck the gay bird, and appropriate her trinkets to their own use. their delight was premature. swift on their heels came an avenging, as well as a saving spirit. meek, at the head of his six comrades, no sooner espied the drooping form of the lamb, than he urged his horse to the top of its speed. the horse was a spirited creature, that seeing something wrong in all these hasty maneuvers, took fright and adding terror to good will, ran with the speed of madness right in amongst the startled crows, who doubtless regarded as a great "medicine" so fearless a warrior. it was now too late to be prudent, and meek began the battle by yelling and firing, taking care to hit his indian. the other trappers, emulating the bold example of their leader, dashed into the melee and a chance medley fight was carried on, in which umentucken escaped, and another crow bit the dust. finding that they were getting the worst of the fight, the indians at length took to flight, and the trappers returned to camp rejoicing, and complimenting meek on his gallantry in attacking the crows single-handed. "i took their compliments quite naturally," says meek, "nor did i think it war worth while to explain to them that i couldn't hold my horse." the indians are lordly and tyrannical in their treatment of women, thinking it no shame to beat them cruelly; even taking the liberty of striking other women than those belonging to their own families. while the camp was traveling through the crow country in the spring of , a party of that nation paid a visit to bridger, bringing skins to trade for blankets and ammunition. the bargaining went on quite pleasantly for some time; but one of the braves who was promenading about camp inspecting whatever came in his way, chanced to strike umentucken with a whip he carried in his hand, by way of displaying his superiority to squaws in general, and trappers' wives in particular. it was an unlucky blow for the brave, for in another instant he rolled on the ground, shot dead by a bullet from meek's gun. at this rash act the camp was in confusion. yells from the crows, who took the act as a signal for war; hasty questions, and cries of command; arming and shooting. it was some time before the case could be explained or understood. the crows had two or three of their party shot; the whites also lost a man. after the unpremeditated fight was over, and the crows departed not thoroughly satisfied with the explanation, bridger went round to meek's lodge. "well, you raised a hell of a row in camp;" said the commander, rolling out his deep bass voice in the slow monotonous tones which mountain men very quickly acquire from the indians. "very sorry, bridger; but couldn't help it. no devil of an indian shall strike meek's wife." "but you got a man killed." "sorry for the man; couldn't help it, though, bridger." and in truth it was too late to mend the matter. fearing, however, that the crows would attempt to avenge themselves for the losses they had sustained, bridger hurried his camp forward, and got out of their neighborhood as quickly as possible. so much for the female element in the camp of the rocky mountain trapper. woman, it is said, has held the apple of discord, from mother eve to umentucken, and in consonance with this theory, bridger, doubtless, considered the latter as the primal cause of the unfortunate "row in camp," rather than the brutality of the crow, or the imprudence of meek. but umentucken's career was nearly run. in the following summer she met her death by a bannack arrow; dying like a warrior, although living she was only a woman. chapter xiii. . the rendezvous of the rocky mountain company seldom took place without combining with its many wild elements, some other more civilized and refined. artists, botanists, travelers, and hunters, from the busy world outside the wilderness, frequently claimed the companionship, if not the hospitality of the fur companies, in their wanderings over prairies and among mountains. up to the year , these visitors had been of the classes just named; men traveling either for the love of adventure, to prosecute discoveries in science, or to add to art the treasure of new scenes and subjects. but in this year there appeared at rendezvous two gentlemen, who had accompanied the st. louis company in its outward trip to the mountains, whose object was not the procurement of pleasure, or the improvement of science. they had come to found missions among the indians; the rev. samuel parker and rev. dr. marcus whitman; the first a scholarly and fastidious man, and the other possessing all the boldness, energy, and contempt of fastidiousness, which would have made him as good a mountain leader, as he was an energetic servant of the american board of foreign missions. the cause which had brought these gentlemen to the wilderness was a little incident connected with the fur trade. four flathead indians, in the year , having heard enough of the christian religion, from the few devout men connected with the fur companies, to desire to know more, performed a winter journey to st. louis, and there made inquiry about the white man's religion. this incident, which to any one acquainted with indian character, would appear a very natural one, when it became known to christian churches in the united states, excited a very lively interest, and seemed to call upon them like a voice out of heaven, to fly to the rescue of perishing heathen souls. the methodist church was the first to respond. when wyeth returned to the mountains in , four missionaries accompanied him, destined for the valley of the wallamet river in oregon. in the following year, the presbyterian church sent out its agents, the two gentlemen above mentioned; one of whom, dr. whitman, subsequently located near fort walla-walla. the account given by capt. bonneville of the flatheads and nez perces, as he found them in , before missionary labor had been among them, throws some light on the incident of the journey to st. louis, which so touched the christian heart in the united states. after relating his surprise at finding that the nez perces observed certain sacred days, he continues: "a few days afterwards, four of them signified that they were about to hunt. 'what!' exclaimed the captain, 'without guns or arrows; and with only one old spear? what do you expect to kill?' they smiled among themselves, but made no answer. preparatory to the chase, they performed some religious rites, and offered up to the great spirit a few short prayers for safety and success; then having received the blessing of their wives, they leaped upon their horses and departed, leaving the whole party of christian spectators amazed and rebuked by this lesson of faith and dependence on a supreme and benevolent being. accustomed as i had heretofore been to find the wretched indian reveling in blood, and stained by every vice which can degrade human nature, i could scarcely realize the scene which i had witnessed. wonder at such unaffected tenderness and piety, where it was least to have been sought, contended in all our bosoms with shame and confusion, at receiving such pure and wholesome instructions from creatures so far below us in all the arts and comforts of life. "simply to call these people religious," continued bonneville, "would convey but a faint idea of the deep hue of piety and devotion which pervades their whole conduct. their honesty is immaculate, and their purity of purpose, and their observance of the rites of their religion, are most uniform and remarkable. they are certainly more like a nation of saints than a horde of savages." this was a very enthusiastic view to take of the nez perce character, which appeared all the brighter to the captain, by contrast with the savage life which he had witnessed in other places, and even by contrast with the conduct of the white trappers. but the nez perces and flatheads were, intellectually and morally, an exception to all the indian tribes west of the missouri river. lewis and clarke found them different from any others; the fur-traders and the missionaries found them different; and they remain at this day an honorable example, for probity and piety, to both savage and civilized peoples. to account for this superiority is indeed difficult. the only clue to the cause is in the following statement of bonneville's. "it would appear," he says, "that they had imbibed some notions of the christian faith from catholic missionaries and traders who had been among them. they even had a rude calender of the fasts and festivals of the romish church, and some traces of its ceremonials. these have become blended with their own wild rites, and present a strange medley, civilized and barbarous." finding that these people among whom he was thrown exhibited such remarkable traits of character, captain bonneville exerted himself to make them acquainted with the history and spirit of christianity. to these explanations they listened with great eagerness. "many a time," he says, "was my little lodge thronged, or rather piled with hearers, for they lay on the ground, one leaning over the other, until there was no further room, all listening with greedy ears to the wonders which the great spirit had revealed to the white man. no other subject gave them half the satisfaction, or commanded half the attention; and but few scenes of my life remain so freshly on my memory, or are so pleasurably recalled to my contemplation, as these hours of intercourse with a distant and benighted race in the midst of the desert." it was the interest awakened by these discourses of captain bonneville, and possibly by smith, and other traders who happened to fall in with the nez perces and flatheads, that stimulated those four flatheads to undertake the journey to st. louis in search of information; and this it was which resulted in the establishment of missions, both in western oregon, and among the tribes inhabiting the country between the two great branches of the columbia. the trait of indian character which bonneville, in his pleased surprise at the apparent piety of the nez perces and flatheads, failed to observe, and which the missionaries themselves for a long time remained oblivious to, was the material nature of their religious views. the indian judges of all things by the material results. if he is possessed of a good natural intelligence and powers of observation, he soon discovers that the god of the indian is but a feeble deity; for does he not permit the indian to be defeated in war; to starve, and to freeze? do not the indian medicine men often fail to save life, to win battles, to curse their enemies? the indian's god, he argues, must be a good deal of a humbug. he sees the white men faring much better. they have guns, ammunition, blankets, knives, everything in plenty; and they are successful in war; are skillful in a thousand things the indian knows nothing of. to be so blest implies a very wise and powerful deity. to gain all these things they are eager to learn about the white man's god; are willing to do whatever is necessary to please and propitiate him. hence their attentiveness to the white man's discourse about his religion. naturally enough they were struck with wonder at the doctrine of peace and good will; a doctrine so different from the law of blood by which the indian, in his natural state, lives. yet if it is good for the white men, it must be good for him; at all events he is anxious to try it. that is the course of reasoning by which an indian is led to inquire into christianity. it is a desire to better his physical, rather than his spiritual condition; for of the latter he has but a very faint conception. he was accustomed to desire a material heaven, such a world beyond the grave, as he could only imagine from his earthly experience. heaven was happiness, and happiness was plenty; therefore the most a good indian could desire was to go where there should forevermore be plenty. such was the indian's view of religion, and it could be no other. until the wants of the body have been supplied by civilization, the wants of the soul do not develop themselves: and until then the savage is not prepared to understand christianity. this is the law of nature and of god. primeval man was a savage; and it was little by little, through thousands of years, that christ was revealed. every child born, even now, is a savage, and has to be taught civilization year after year, until he arrives at the possibility of comprehending spiritual religion. so every full grown barbarian is a child in moral development; and to expect him to comprehend those mysteries over which the world has agonized for centuries, is to commit the gravest error. into this error fell all the missionaries who came to the wilds that lay beyond the rocky mountains. they undertook to teach religion first, and more simple matters afterward--building their edifice like the irishman's chimney, by holding up the top brick, and putting the others under it. failure was the result of such a process, as the record of the oregon missions sufficiently proves. the reader will pardon this digression--made necessary by the part which one of the gentlemen present at this year's rendezvous, was destined to take in the history which we are writing. shortly after the arrival of messrs. parker and whitman, rendezvous broke up. a party, to which meek was attached, moved in the direction of the snake river head-waters, the missionaries accompanying them, and after making two camps, came on saturday eve to jackson's little hole, a small mountain valley near the larger one commonly known as jackson's hole. on the following day religious services were held in the rocky mountain camp. a scene more unusual could hardly have transpired than that of a company of trappers listening to the preaching of the word of god. very little pious reverence marked the countenances of that wild and motley congregation. curiosity, incredulity, sarcasm, or a mocking levity, were more plainly perceptible in the expression of the men's faces, than either devotion or the longing expectancy of men habitually deprived of what they once highly valued. the indians alone showed by their eager listening that they desired to become acquainted with the mystery of the "unknown god." the rev. samuel parker preached, and the men were as politely attentive as it was in their reckless natures to be, until, in the midst of the discourse, a band of buffalo appeared in the valley, when the congregation incontinently broke up, without staying for a benediction, and every man made haste after his horse, gun, and rope, leaving mr. parker to discourse to vacant ground. the run was both exciting and successful. about twenty fine buffaloes were killed, and the choice pieces brought to camp, cooked and eaten, amidst the merriment, mixed with something coarser, of the hunters. on this noisy rejoicing mr. parker looked with a sober aspect: and following the dictates of his religious feeling, he rebuked the sabbath-breakers quite severely. better for his influence among the men, if he had not done so, or had not eaten so heartily of the tender-loin afterwards, a circumstance which his irreverent critics did not fail to remark, to his prejudice; and upon the principle that the "partaker is as bad as the thief," they set down his lecture on sabbath-breaking as nothing better than pious humbug. [illustration: view on the columbia river.] dr. marcus whitman was another style of man. whatever he thought of the wild ways of the mountain-men he discreetly kept to himself, preferring to teach by example rather than precept; and showing no fastidious contempt for any sort of rough duty he might be called upon to perform. so aptly indeed had he turned his hand to all manner of camp service on the journey to the mountains, that this abrogation of clerical dignity had become a source of solicitude, not to say disapproval and displeasure on the part of his colleague; and it was agreed between them that the doctor should return to the states with the st. louis company, to procure recruits for the promising field of labor which they saw before them, while mr. parker continued his journey to the columbia to decide upon the location of the missionary stations. the difference of character of the two men was clearly illustrated by the results of this understanding. parker went to vancouver, where he was hospitably entertained, and where he could inquire into the workings of the missionary system as pursued by the methodist missionaries. his investigations not proving the labor to his taste, he sailed the following summer for the sandwich islands, and thence to new york; leaving only a brief note for doctor whitman, when he, with indefatigable exertions, arrived that season among the nez perces with a missionary company, eager for the work which they hoped to make as great as they believed it to be good. chapter xiv. from the mountains about the head-waters of the snake river, meek returned, with bridger's brigade to the yellowstone country, where he fell into the hands of the crows. the story as he relates it, is as follows: "i war trapping on the rocky fork of the yellowstone. i had been out from camp five days; and war solitary and alone, when i war discovered by a war party of crows. they had the prairie, and i war forced to run for the creek bottom; but the beaver had throwed the water out and made dams, so that my mule mired down. while i war struggling in the marsh, the indians came after me, with tremendous yells; firing a random shot now and then, as they closed in on me. "when they war within about two rods of me, i brought old _sally_, that is my gun, to my face, ready to fire, and then die; for i knew it war death this time, unless providence interfered to save me: and i didn't think providence would do it. but the head chief, when he saw the warlike looks of _sally_, called out to me to put down my gun, and i should live. "well, i liked to live,--being then in the prime of life; and though it hurt me powerful, i resolved to part with _sally_. i laid her down. as i did so, the chief picked her up, and one of the braves sprang at me with a spear, and would have run me through, but the chief knocked him down with the butt of my gun. then they led me forth to the high plain on the south side of the stream. there they called a halt, and i was given in charge of three women, while the warriors formed a ring to smoke and consult. this gave me an opportunity to count them: they numbered one hundred and eighty-seven men, nine boys, and three women. "after a smoke of three long hours, the chief, who war named 'the bold,' called me in the ring, and said: "'i have known the whites for a long time, and i know them to be great liars, deserving death; but if _you_ will tell the truth, you shall live.' "then i thought to myself, they will fetch the truth out of me, if thar is any in me. but his highness continued: "'tell me whar are the whites you belong to; and what is your captain's name.' "i said 'bridger is my captain's name; or, in the crow tongue, _casapy_,' the 'blanket chief.' at this answer the chief seemed lost in thought. at last he asked me-- "'how many men has he?' "i thought about telling the truth and living; but i said 'forty,' which war a tremendous lie; for thar war two hundred and forty. at this answer the bold laughed: "'we will make them poor,' said he; 'and you shall live, but they shall die.' "i thought to myself, 'hardly;' but i said nothing. he then asked me whar i war to meet the camp, and i told him:--and then how many days before the camp would be thar; which i answered truly, for i wanted them to find the camp. "it war now late in the afternoon, and thar war a great bustle, getting ready for the march to meet bridger. two big indians mounted my mule, but the women made me pack moccasins. the spies started first, and after awhile the main party. seventy warriors traveled ahead of me: i war placed with the women and boys; and after us the balance of the braves. as we traveled along, the women would prod me with sticks, and laugh, and say 'masta sheela,' (which means white man,) 'masta sheela very poor now.' the fair sex war very much amused. "we traveled that way till midnight, the two big bucks riding my mule, and i packing moccasins. then we camped; the indians in a ring, with me in the centre, to keep me safe. i didn't sleep very well that night. i'd a heap rather been in some other place. "the next morning we started on in the same order as before: and the squaws making fun of me all day; but i kept mighty quiet. when we stopped to cook that evening, i war set to work, and war head cook, and head waiter too. the third and the fourth day it war the same. i felt pretty bad when we struck camp on the last day: for i knew we must be coming near to bridger, and that if any thing should go wrong, my life would pay the forfeit. "on the afternoon of the fourth day, the spies, who war in advance, looking out from a high hill, made a sign to the main party. in a moment all sat down. directly they got another sign, and then they got up and moved on. i war as well up in indian signs as they war; and i knew they had discovered white men. what war worse, i knew they would soon discover that i had been lying to them. all i had to do then war to trust to luck. soon we came to the top of the hill, which overlooked the yellowstone, from which i could see the plains below extending as far as the eye could reach, and about three miles off, the camp of my friends. my heart beat double quick about that time; and i once in a while put my hand to my head, to feel if my scalp war thar. "while i war watching our camp, i discovered that the horse guard had seen us, for i knew the sign he would make if he discovered indians. i thought the camp a splendid sight that evening. it made a powerful show to me, who did not expect ever to see it after that day. and it _war_ a fine sight any how, from the hill whar i stood. about two hundred and fifty men, and women and children in great numbers, and about a thousand horses and mules. then the beautiful plain, and the sinking sun; and the herds of buffalo that could not be numbered; and the cedar hills, covered with elk,--i never saw so fine a sight as all that looked to me then! "when i turned my eyes on that savage crow band, and saw the chief standing with his hand on his mouth, lost in amazement; and beheld the warriors' tomahawks and spears glittering in the sun, my heart war very little. directly the chief turned to me with a horrible scowl. said he: "'i promised that you should live if you told the truth; but you have told me a great lie.' "then the warriors gathered around, with their tomahawks in their hands; but i war showing off very brave, and kept my eyes fixed on the horse-guard who war approaching the hill to drive in the horses. this drew the attention of the chief, and the warriors too. seeing that the guard war within about two hundred yards of us, the chief turned to me and ordered me to tell him to come up. i pretended to do what he said; but instead of that i howled out to him to stay off, or he would be killed; and to tell bridger to try to treat with them, and get me away. "as quick as he could he ran to camp, and in a few minutes bridger appeared, on his large white horse. he came up to within three hundred yards of us, and called out to me, asking who the indians war. i answered 'crows.' he then told me to say to the chief he wished him to send one of his sub-chiefs to smoke with him. "all this time my heart beat terribly hard. i don't know now why they didn't kill me at once; but the head chief seemed overcome with surprise. when i repeated to him what bridger said, he reflected a moment, and then ordered the second chief, called little-gun, to go and smoke with bridger. but they kept on preparing for war; getting on their paint and feathers, arranging their scalp locks, selecting their arrows, and getting their ammunition ready. "while this war going on, little-gun had approached to within about a hundred yards of bridger; when, according to the crow laws of war, each war forced to strip himself, and proceed the remaining distance in a state of nudity, and kiss and embrace. while this interesting ceremony war being performed, five of bridger's men had followed him, keeping in a ravine until they got within shooting distance, when they showed themselves, and cut off the return of little-gun, thus making a prisoner of him. "if you think my heart did not jump up when i saw that, you think wrong. i knew it war kill or cure, now. every indian snatched a weapon, and fierce threats war howled against me. but all at once about a hundred of our trappers appeared on the scene. at the same time bridger called to me, to tell me to propose to the chief to exchange me for little-gun. i explained to the bold what bridger wanted to do, and he sullenly consented: for, he said, he could not afford to give a chief for one white dog's scalp. i war then allowed to go towards my camp, and little-gun towards his; and the rescue i hardly hoped for war accomplished. "in the evening the chief, with forty of his braves, visited bridger and made a treaty of three months. they said they war formerly at war with the whites; but that they desired to be friendly with them now, so that together they might fight the blackfeet, who war everybody's enemies. as for me, they returned me my mule, gun, and beaver packs, and said my name should be _shiam shaspusia_, for i could out-lie the crows." in december, bridger's command went into winter quarters in the bend of the yellowstone. buffalo, elk, and bear were in great abundance, all that fall and winter. before they went to camp, meek, kit carson, hawkins, and doughty were trapping together on the yellowstone, about sixty miles below. they had made their temporary camp in the ruins of an old fort, the walls of which were about six feet high. one evening, after coming in from setting their traps, they discovered three large grizzly bears in the river bottom, not more than half a mile off, and hawkins went out to shoot one. he was successful in killing one at the first shot, when the other two, taking fright, ran towards the fort. as they came near enough to show that they were likely to invade camp, meek and carson, not caring to have a bear fight, clambered up a cotton-wood tree close by, at the same time advising doughty to do the same. but doughty was tired, and lazy besides, and concluded to take his chances where he was; so he rolled himself in his blanket and laid quite still. the bears, on making the fort, reared up on their hind legs and looked in as if meditating taking it for a defence. the sight of doughty lying rolled in his blanket, and the monster grizzlys inspecting the fort, caused the two trappers who were safely perched in the cotton-wood to make merry at doughty's expense; saying all the mirth-provoking things they could, and then advising him not to laugh, for fear the bears should seize him. poor doughty, agonizing between suppressed laughter and growing fear, contrived to lie still however, while the bears gazed upward at the speakers in wonder, and alternately at the suspicious looking bundle inside the fort. not being able to make out the meaning of either, they gave at last a grunt of dissatisfaction, and ran off into a thicket to consult over these strange appearances; leaving the trappers to enjoy the incident as a very good joke. for a long time after, doughty was reminded how close to the ground he laid, when the grizzlys paid their compliments to him. such were the every day incidents from which the mountain-men contrived to derive their rude jests, and laughter-provoking reminiscences. a few days after this incident, while the same party were trapping a few miles farther down the river, on their way to camp, they fell in with some delaware indians, who said they had discovered signs of blackfeet, and wanted to borrow some horses to decoy them. to this the trappers very willingly agreed, and they were furnished with two horses. the delawares then went to the spot where signs had been discovered, and tying the horses, laid flat down on the ground near them, concealed by the grass or willows. they had not long to wait before a blackfoot was seen stealthily advancing through the thicket, confident in the belief that he should gain a couple of horses while their supposed owners were busy with their traps. but just as he laid his hand on the bridle of the first one, crack went the rifles of the delawares, and there was one less blackfoot thief on the scent after trappers. as soon as they could, after this, the party mounted and rode to camp, not stopping by the way, lest the main body of blackfeet should discover the deed and seek for vengeance. truly indeed, was the blackfoot the ishmael of the wilderness, whose hand was against every man, and every man's hand against him. the rocky mountain company passed the first part of the winter in peace and plenty in the yellowstone camp, unannoyed either by enemies or rivals. hunting buffalo, feeding their horses, playing games, and telling stories, occupied the entire leisure of these months of repose. not only did the mountain-men recount their own adventures, but when these were exhausted, those whose memories served them rehearsed the tales they had read in their youth. robinson crusoe and the arabian nights entertainment, were read over again by the light of memory; and even bunyan's pilgrim's progress was made to recite like a sensation novel, and was quite as well enjoyed. . in january, however, this repose was broken in upon by a visit from the blackfeet. as their visitations were never of a friendly character, so then they were not bent upon pacific rites and ceremonies, such as all the rest of the world find pleasure in, but came in full battle array to try their fortunes in war against the big camp of the whites. they had evidently made great preparation. their warriors numbered eleven hundred, got up in the top of the blackfoot fashions, and armed with all manner of savage and some civilized weapons. but bridger was prepared for them, although their numbers were so overwhelming. he built a fort, had the animals corraled, and put himself on the defensive in a prompt and thorough manner. this made the blackfeet cautious; they too built forts of cotton-wood in the shape of lodges, ten men to each fort, and carried on a skirmishing fight for two days, when finding there was nothing to be gained, they departed, neither side having sustained much loss; the whites losing only two men by this grand blackfoot army. soon after this attack bridger broke camp, and traveled up the yellowstone, through the crow country. it was while on this march that umentucken was struck by a crow, and meek put the whole camp in peril, by shooting him. they passed on to the big horn and little horn rivers, down through the wind river valley and through the south pass to green river. while in that country, there occurred the fight with the bannacks in which umentucken was killed. a small party of nez perces had lost their horses by the thieving of the bannacks. they came into camp and complained to the whites, who promised them their protection, should they be able to recover their horses. accordingly the nez perces started after the thieves, and by dogging their camp, succeeded in re-capturing their horses and getting back to bridger's camp with them. in order to divert the vengeance of the bannacks from themselves, they presented their horses to the whites, and a very fine one to bridger. all went well for a time. the bannacks went on their way to hunt buffalo; but they treasured up their wrath against the supposed white thieves who had stolen the horses which they had come by so honestly. on their return from the hunt, having learned by spies that the horses were in the camp of the whites, they prepared for war. early one morning they made their appearance mounted and armed, and making a dash at the camp, rode through it with the usual yells and frantic gestures. the attack was entirely unexpected. bridger stood in front of his lodge, holding his horse by a lasso, and the head chief rode over it, jerking it out of his hand. at this unprecedented insult to his master, a negro named jim, cook to the booshways, seized a rifle and shot the chief dead. at the same time, an arrow shot at random struck umentucken in the breast, and the joys and sorrows of the mountain lamb were over forevermore. the killing of a head chief always throws an indian war party into confusion, and negro jim was greatly elated at this signal feat of his. the trappers, who were as much surprised at the suddenness of the assault as it is in the mountain-man's nature to be, quickly recovered themselves. in a few moments the men were mounted and in motion, and the disordered bannacks were obliged to fly towards their village, bridger's company pursuing them. all the rest of that day the trappers fought the bannacks, driving them out of their village and plundering it, and forcing them to take refuge on an island in the river. even there they were not safe, the guns of the mountain-men picking them off, from their stations on the river banks. umentucken was well avenged that day. all night the indians remained on the island, where sounds of wailing were heard continually; and when morning came one of their old women appeared bearing the pipe of peace. "you have killed all our warriors," she said; "do you now want to kill the women? if you wish to smoke with women, i have the pipe." not caring either to fight or to smoke with so feeble a representative of the bannacks, the trappers withdrew. but it was the last war party that nation ever sent against the mountain-men; though in later times they have by their atrocities avenged the losses of that day. while awaiting, in the green river valley, the arrival of the st. louis company, the rocky mountain and north american companies united; after which captain sublette and his brother returned no more to the mountains. the new firm was known only as the american fur company, the other having dropped its title altogether. the object of their consolidation was by combining their capital and experience to strengthen their hands against the hudson's bay company, which now had an establishment at fort hall, on the snake river. by this new arrangement, bridger and fontenelle commanded; and dripps was to be the traveling partner who was to go to st. louis for goods. after the conclusion of this agreement, dripps, with the restlessness of the true mountain-man, decided to set out, with a small party of equally restless trappers, always eager to volunteer for any undertaking promising either danger or diversion, to look for the st. louis company which was presumed to be somewhere between the black hills and green river. according to this determination dripps, meek, carson, newell, a flathead chief named victor, and one or two others, set out on the search for the expected company. it happened, however, that a war party of a hundred crows were out on the trail before them, looking perhaps for the same party, and the trappers had not made more than one or two camps before they discovered signs which satisfied them of the neighborhood of an enemy. at their next camp on the sandy, meek and carson, with the caution and vigilance peculiar to them, kept their saddles on their horses, and the horses tied to themselves by a long rope, so that on the least unusual motion of the animals they should be readily informed of the disturbance. their precaution was not lost. just after midnight had given place to the first faint kindling of dawn, their ears were stunned by the simultaneous discharge of a hundred guns, and the usual furious din of the war-whoop and yell. a stampede immediately took place of all the horses excepting those of meek and carson. "every man for himself and god for us all," is the motto of the mountain-man in case of an indian attack; nor did our trappers forget it on this occasion. quickly mounting, they put their horses to their speed, which was not checked until they had left the sandy far behind them. continuing on in the direction of the proposed meeting with the st. louis company, they made their first camp on the sweetwater, where they fell in with victor, the flathead chief, who had made his way on foot to this place. one or two others came into camp that night, and the following day this portion of the party traveled on in company until within about five miles of independence rock, when they were once more charged on by the indians, who surrounded them in such a manner that they were obliged to turn back to escape. again meek and carson made off, leaving their dismounted comrades to their own best devices. finding that with so many indians on the trail, and only two horses, there was little hope of being able to accomplish their journey, these two lucky ones made all haste back to camp. on horse creek, a few hours travel from rendezvous, they came up with newell, who after losing his horse had fled in the direction of the main camp, but becoming bewildered had been roaming about until he was quite tired out, and on the point of giving up. but as if the creek where he was found meant to justify itself for having so inharmonious a name, one of their own horses, which had escaped from the crows was found quietly grazing on its banks, and the worn out fugitive at once remounted. strange as it may appear, not one of the party was killed, the others returning to camp two days later than meek and carson, the worse for their expedition only by the loss of their horses, and rather an unusually fatigued and forlorn aspect. [illustration: "indians by jove!"] chapter xv. . while the resident partners of the consolidated company waited at the rendezvous for the arrival of the supply trains from st. louis, word came by a messenger sent forward, that the american company under fitzpatrick, had reached independence rock, and was pressing forward. the messenger also brought the intelligence that two other parties were traveling in company with the fur company; that of captain stuart, who had been to new orleans to winter, and that of doctor whitman, one of the missionaries who had visited the mountains the year previous. in this latter party, it was asserted, there were two white ladies. this exhilarating news immediately inspired some of the trappers, foremost among whom was meek, with a desire to be the first to meet and greet the on-coming caravan; and especially to salute the two white women who were bold enough to invade a mountain camp. in a very short time meek, with half-a-dozen comrades, and ten or a dozen nez perces, were mounted and away, on their self-imposed errand of welcome; the trappers because they were "spoiling" for a fresh excitement; and the nez perces because the missionaries were bringing them information concerning the powerful and beneficent deity of the white men. these latter also were charged with a letter to doctor whitman from his former associate, mr. parker. on the sweetwater about two days' travel from camp the caravan of the advancing company was discovered, and the trappers prepared to give them a characteristic greeting. to prevent mistakes in recognizing them, a white flag was hoisted on one of their guns, and the word was given to start. then over the brow of a hill they made their appearance, riding with that mad speed only an indian or a trapper can ride, yelling, whooping, dashing forward with frantic and threatening gestures; their dress, noises, and motions, all so completely savage that the white men could not have been distinguished from the red. the first effect of their onset was what they probably intended. the uninitiated travelers, including the missionaries, believing they were about to be attacked by indians, prepared for defence, nor could be persuaded that the preparation was unnecessary until the guide pointed out to them the white flag in advance. at the assurance that the flag betokened friends, apprehension was changed to curiosity and intense interest. every movement of the wild brigade became fascinating. on they came, riding faster and faster, yelling louder and louder, and gesticulating more and more madly, until, as they met and passed the caravan, they discharged their guns in one volley over the heads of the company, as a last finishing _feu de joie_; and suddenly wheeling rode back to the front as wildly as they had come. nor could this first brief display content the crazy cavalcade. after reaching the front, they rode back and forth, and around and around the caravan, which had returned their salute, showing off their feats of horsemanship, and the knowing tricks of their horses together; hardly stopping to exchange questions and answers, but seeming really intoxicated with delight at the meeting. what strange emotions filled the breasts of the lady missionaries, when they beheld among whom their lot was cast, may now be faintly outlined by a vivid imagination, but have never been, perhaps never could be put into words. the caravan on leaving the settlements had consisted of nineteen laden carts, each drawn by two mules driven tandem, and one light wagon, belonging to the american company; two wagons with two mules to each, belonging to capt. stuart; and one light two-horse wagon, and one four-horse freight wagon, belonging to the missionaries. however, all the wagons had been left behind at fort laramie, except those of the missionaries, and one of capt. stuart's; so that the three that remained in the train when it reached the sweetwater were alone in the enjoyment of the nez perces' curiosity concerning them; a curiosity which they divided between them and the domesticated cows and calves belonging to the missionaries: another proof, as they considered it, of the superior power of the white man's god, who could give to the whites the ability to tame wild animals to their uses. but it was towards the two missionary ladies, mrs. whitman and mrs. spalding, that the chief interest was directed; an interest that was founded in the indian mind upon wonder, admiration, and awe; and in the minds of the trappers upon the powerful recollections awakened by seeing in their midst two refined christian women, with the complexion and dress of their own mothers and sisters. united to this startling effect of memory, was respect for the religious devotion which had inspired them to undertake the long and dangerous journey to the rocky mountains, and also a sentiment of pity for what they knew only too well yet remained to be encountered by those delicate women in the prosecution of their duty. mrs. whitman, who was in fine health, rode the greater part of the journey on horseback. she was a large, stately, fair-skinned woman, with blue eyes and light auburn, almost golden hair. her manners were at once dignified and gracious. she was, both by nature and education a lady; and had a lady's appreciation of all that was courteous and refined; yet not without an element of romance and heroism in her disposition strong enough to have impelled her to undertake a missionary's life in the wilderness. mrs. spalding was a different type of woman. talented, and refined in her nature, she was less pleasing in exterior, and less attached to that which was superficially pleasing in others. but an indifference to outside appearances was in her case only a sign of her absorption in the work she had taken in hand. she possessed the true missionary spirit, and the talent to make it useful in an eminent degree; never thinking of herself, or the impression she made upon others; yet withal very firm and capable of command. her health, which was always rather delicate, had suffered much from the fatigue of the journey, and the constant diet of fresh meat, and meat only, so that she was compelled at last to abandon horseback exercise, and to keep almost entirely to the light wagon of the missionaries. as might be expected, the trappers turned from the contemplation of the pale, dark-haired occupant of the wagon, with all her humility and gentleness, to observe and admire the more striking figure, and more affably attractive manners of mrs. whitman. meek, who never lost an opportunity to see and be seen, was seen riding alongside mrs. whitman, answering her curious inquiries, and entertaining her with stories of blackfeet battles, and encounters with grizzly bears. poor lady! could she have looked into the future about which she was then so curious, she would have turned back appalled, and have fled with frantic fear to the home of her grieving parents. how could she then behold in the gay and boastful mountaineer, whose peculiarities of dress and speech so much diverted her, the very messenger who was to bear to the home of her girlhood the sickening tale of her bloody sacrifice to savage superstition and revenge? yet so had fate decreed it. when the trappers and nez perces had slaked their thirst for excitement by a few hours' travel in company with the fur company's and missionary's caravan, they gave at length a parting display of horsemanship, and dashed off on the return trail to carry to camp the earliest news. it was on their arrival in camp that the nez perce and flathead village, which had its encampment at the rendezvous ground on green river, began to make preparations for the reception of the missionaries. it was then that indian finery was in requisition! then the indian women combed and braided their long black hair, tying the plaits with gay-colored ribbons, and the indian braves tied anew their streaming scalp-locks, sticking them full of flaunting eagle's plumes, and not despising a bit of ribbon either. paint was in demand both for the rider and his horse. gay blankets, red and blue, buckskin fringed shirts, worked with beads and porcupine quills, and handsomely embroidered moccasins, were eagerly sought after. guns were cleaned and burnished, and drums and fifes put in tune. after a day of toilsome preparation all was ready for the grand reception in the camp of the nez perces. word was at length given that the caravan was in sight. there was a rush for horses, and in a few moments the indians were mounted and in line, ready to charge on the advancing caravan. when the command of the chiefs was given to start, a simultaneous chorus of yells and whoops burst forth, accompanied by the deafening din of the war-drum, the discharge of fire-arms, and the clatter of the whole cavalcade, which was at once in a mad gallop toward the on-coming train. nor did the yelling, whooping, drumming, and firing cease until within a few yards of the train. all this demoniac hub-bub was highly complimentary toward those for whom it was intended; but an unfortunate ignorance of indian customs caused the missionaries to fail in appreciating the honor intended them. instead of trying to reciprocate the noise by an attempt at imitating it, the missionary camp was alarmed at the first burst and at once began to drive in their cattle and prepare for an attack. as the missionary party was in the rear of the train they succeeded in getting together their loose stock before the nez perces had an opportunity of making themselves known, so that the leaders of the fur company, and captain stuart, had the pleasure of a hearty laugh at their expense, for the fright they had received. a general shaking of hands followed the abatement of the first surprise, the indian women saluting mrs. whitman and mrs. spalding with a kiss, and the missionaries were escorted to their camping ground near the nez perce encampment. here the whole village again formed in line, and a more formal introduction of the missionaries took place, after which they were permitted to go into camp. when the intention of the indians became known, dr. whitman, who was the leader of the missionary party, was boyishly delighted with the reception which had been given him. his frank, hearty, hopeful nature augured much good from the enthusiasm of the indians. if his estimation of the native virtues of the savages was much too high, he suffered with those whom he caused to suffer for his belief, in the years which followed. peace to the ashes of a good man! and honor to his associates, whose hearts were in the cause they had undertaken of christianizing the indians. two of them still live--one of whom, mr. spalding, has conscientiously labored and deeply suffered for the faith. mr. gray, who was an unmarried man, returned the following year to the states, for a wife, and settled for a time among the indians, but finally abandoned the missionary service, and removed to the wallamet valley. these five persons constituted the entire force of teachers who could be induced at that time to devote their lives to the instruction of the savages in the neighborhood of the rocky mountains. the trappers, and gentlemen of the fur company and captain stuart, had been passive but interested spectators of the scene between the indians and the missionaries. when the excitement had somewhat subsided, and the various camps had become settled in their places, the tents of the white ladies were besieged with visitors, both civilized and savage. these ladies, who were making an endeavor to acquire a knowledge of the nez perce tongue in order to commence their instructions in the language of the natives, could have made very little progress, had their purpose been less strong than it was. mrs. spalding perhaps succeeded better than mrs. whitman in the difficult study of the indian dialect. she seemed to attract the natives about her by the ease and kindness of her manner, especially the native women, who, seeing she was an invalid, clung to her rather than to her more lofty and self-asserting associate. on the contrary, the leaders of the american fur company, captain wyeth and captain stuart, paid mrs. whitman the most marked and courteous attentions. she shone the bright particular star of that rocky mountain encampment, softening the hearts and the manners of all who came within her womanly influence. not a gentleman among them but felt her silent command upon him to be his better self while she remained in his vicinity; not a trapper or camp-keeper but respected the presence of womanhood and piety. but while the leaders paid court to her, the bashful trappers contented themselves with promenading before her tent. should they succeed in catching her eye, they never failed to touch their beaver-skin caps in their most studiously graceful manner, though that should prove so dubious as to bring a mischievous smile to the blue eyes of the observant lady. but our friend joe meek did not belong by nature to the bashful brigade. he was not content with disporting himself in his best trapper's toggery in front of a lady's tent. he became a not infrequent visitor, and amused mrs. whitman with the best of his mountain adventures, related in his soft, slow, yet smooth and firm utterance, and with many a merry twinkle of his mirthful dark eyes. in more serious moments he spoke to her of the future, and of his determination, sometime, to "settle down." when she inquired if he had fixed upon any spot which in his imagination he could regard as "home" he replied that he could not content himself to return to civilized life, but thought that when he gave up "bar fighting and injun fighting" he should go down to the wallamet valley and see what sort of life he could make of it there. how he lived up to this determination will be seen hereafter. the missionaries remained at the rendezvous long enough to recruit their own strength and that of their stock, and to restore to something like health the invalid mrs. spalding, who, on changing her diet to dried meat, which the resident partners were able to supply her, commenced rapidly to improve. letters were written and given to capt. wyeth to carry home to the states. the captain had completed his sale of fort hall and the goods it contained to the hudson's bay company only a short time previous, and was now about to abandon the effort to establish any enterprise either on the columbia or in the rocky mountains. he had, however, executed his threat of the year previous, and punished the bad faith of the rocky mountain company by placing them in direct competition with the hudson's bay company. the missionaries now prepared for their journey to the columbia river. according to the advice of the mountain-men the heaviest wagon was left at the rendezvous, together with every heavy article that could be dispensed with. but dr. whitman refused to leave the light wagon, although assured he would never be able to get it to the columbia, nor even to the snake river. the good doctor had an immense fund of determination when there was an object to be gained or a principle involved. the only persons who did not oppose wagon transportation were the indians. they sympathised with his determination, and gave him their assistance. the evidences of a different and higher civilization than they had ever seen were held in great reverence by them. the wagons, the domestic cattle, especially the cows and calves, were always objects of great interest with them. therefore they freely gave their assistance, and a sufficient number remained behind to help the doctor, while the main party of both missionaries and indians, having bidden the fur company and others farewell, proceeded to join the camp of two hudson's bay traders a few miles on their way. the two traders, whose camp they now joined, were named mcleod and mckay. the latter, thomas mckay, was the half-breed son of that unfortunate mckay in mr. astor's service, who perished on board the _tonquin_, as related in irving's astoria. he was one of the bravest and most skillful partisans in the employ of the hudson's bay company. mcleod had met the missionaries at the american rendezvous and invited them to travel in his company; an offer which they were glad to accept, as it secured them ample protection and other more trifling benefits, besides some society other than the indians. by dint of great perseverance, doctor whitman contrived to keep up with the camp day after day, though often coming in very late and very weary, until the party arrived at fort hall. at the fort the baggage was again reduced as much as possible; and doctor whitman was compelled by the desertion of his teamster to take off two wheels of his wagon and transform it into a cart which could be more easily propelled in difficult places. with this he proceeded as far as the boise river where the hudson's bay company had a small fort or trading-post; but here again he was so strongly urged to relinquish the idea of taking his wagon to the columbia, that after much discussion he consented to leave it at fort boise until some future time when unencumbered by goods or passengers he might return for it. arrived at the crossing of the snake river, mrs. whitman and mrs. spalding were treated to a new mode of ferriage, which even in their varied experience they had never before met with. this new ferry was nothing more or less than a raft made of bundles of bulrushes woven together by grass ropes. upon this frail flat-boat the passengers were obliged to stretch themselves at length while an indian swam across and drew it after him by a rope. as the waters of the snake river are rapid and often "dancing mad," it is easy to conjecture that the ladies were ill at ease on their bulrush ferry. on went the party from the snake river through the grand ronde to the blue mountains. the crossing here was somewhat difficult but accomplished in safety. the descent from the blue mountains on the west side gave the missionaries their first view of the country they had come to possess, and to civilize and christianize. that view was beautiful and grand--as goodly a prospect as longing eyes ever beheld this side of canaan. before them lay a country spread out like a map, with the windings of its rivers marked by fringes of trees, and its boundaries fixed by mountain ranges above which towered the snowy peaks of mt. hood, mt. adams, and mt. rainier. far away could be traced the course of the columbia; and over all the magnificent scene glowed the red rays of sunset, tinging the distant blue of the mountains until they seemed shrouded in a veil of violet mist. it were not strange that with the reception given them by the indians, and with this bird's-eye view of their adopted country, the hearts of the missionaries beat high with hope. [illustration: descending the blue mountains.] the descent from the blue mountains brought the party out on the umatilla river, where they camped, mr. mcleod parting company with them at this place to hasten forward to fort walla-walla, and prepare for their reception. after two more days of slow and toilsome travel with cattle whose feet were cut and sore from the sharp rocks of the mountains, the company arrived safely at walla-walla fort, on the third of september. here they found mr. mcleod, and mr. panbram who had charge of that post. mr. panbram received the missionary party with every token of respect, and of pleasure at seeing ladies among them. the kindest attentions were lavished upon them from the first moment of their arrival, when the ladies were lifted from their horses, to the time of their departure; the apartments belonging to the fort being assigned to them, and all that the place afforded of comfortable living placed at their disposal. here, for the first time in several months, they enjoyed the luxury of bread--a favor for which the suffering mrs. spalding was especially grateful. at walla-walla the missionaries were informed that they were expected to visit vancouver, the head-quarters of the hudson's bay company on the lower columbia. after resting for two days, it was determined to make this visit before selecting places for mission work among the indians. accordingly the party embarked in the company's boats, for the voyage down the columbia, which occupied six days, owing to strong head winds which were encountered at a point on the lower columbia, called cape horn. they arrived safely on the eleventh of september, at vancouver, where they were again received with the warmest hospitality by the governor, dr. john mclaughlin, and his associates. the change from the privations of wilderness life to the luxuries of fort vancouver was very great indeed, and two weeks passed rapidly away in the enjoyment of refined society, and all the other elegancies of the highest civilization. at the end of two weeks, dr. whitman, mr. spalding, and mr. gray returned to the upper columbia, leaving the ladies at fort vancouver while they determined upon their several locations in the indian country. after an absence of several weeks they returned, having made their selections, and on the third day of november the ladies once more embarked to ascend the columbia, to take up their residence in indian wigwams while their husbands prepared rude dwellings by the assistance of the natives. the spot fixed upon by dr. whitman for his mission was on the walla-walla river about thirty miles from the fort of that name. it was called _waiilatpu_; and the tribe chosen for his pupils were the cayuses, a hardy, active, intelligent race, rich in horses and pasture lands. mr. spalding selected a home on the clearwater river, among the nez perces, of whom we already know so much. his mission was called _lapwai_. mr. gray went among the flatheads, an equally friendly tribe; and here we shall leave the missionaries, to return to the rocky mountains and the life of the hunter and trapper. at a future date we shall fall in once more with these devoted people and learn what success attended their efforts to christianize the indians. chapter xvi. . the company of men who went north this year under bridger and fontenelle, numbered nearly three hundred. rendezvous with all its varied excitements being over, this important brigade commenced its march. according to custom, the trappers commenced business on the head-waters of various rivers, following them down as the early frosts of the mountains forced them to do, until finally they wintered in the plains, at the most favored spots they could find in which to subsist themselves and animals. from green river, meek proceeded with bridger's command to lewis river, salt river, and other tributaries of the snake, and camped with them in pierre's hole, that favorite mountain valley which every year was visited by the different fur companies. [illustration: _the bear in camp._] pierre's hole, notwithstanding its beauties, had some repulsive features, or rather perhaps _one_ repulsive feature, which was, its great numbers of rattlesnakes. meek relates that being once caught in a very violent thunder storm, he dismounted, and holding his horse, a fine one, by the bridle, himself took shelter under a narrow shelf of rock projecting from a precipitous bluff. directly he observed an enormous rattlesnake hastening close by him to its den in the mountain. congratulating himself on his snake-ship's haste to get out of the storm and his vicinity, he had only time to have one rejoicing thought when two or three others followed the trail of the first one. they were seeking the same rocky den, of whose proximity meek now felt uncomfortably assured. before these were out of sight, there came instead of twos and threes, tens and twenties, and then hundreds, and finally meek believes thousands, the ground being literally alive with them. not daring to stir after he discovered the nature of his situation, he was obliged to remain and endure the disgusting and frightful scene, while he exerted himself to keep his horse quiet, lest the reptiles should attack him. by and by, when there were no more to come, but all were safe in their holes in the rock, meek hastily mounted and galloped in the face of the tempest in preference to remaining longer in so unpleasant a neighborhood. there was an old frenchman among the trappers who used to charm rattlesnakes, and handling them freely, place them in his bosom, or allow them to wind about his arms, several at a time, their flat heads extending in all directions, and their bodies waving in the air, in the most snaky and nerve-shaking manner, to the infinite disgust of all the camp, and of hawkins and meek in particular. hawkins often became so nervous that he threatened to shoot the frenchman on the instant, if he did not desist; and great was the dislike he entertained for what he termed the "---- infernal old wizard." it was often the case in the mountains and on the plains that the camp was troubled with rattlesnakes, so that each man on laying down to sleep found it necessary to encircle his bed with a hair rope, thus effectually fencing out the reptiles, which are too fastidious and sensitive of touch to crawl over a hair rope. but for this precaution, the trapper must often have shared his blanket couch with this foe to the "seed of the woman," who being asleep would have neglected to "crush his head," receiving instead the serpent's fang in "his heel," if not in some nobler portion of his body. there is a common belief abroad that the prairie dog harbors the rattlesnake, and the owl also, in his subterranean house, in a more or less friendly manner. meek, however, who has had many opportunities of observing the habits of these three ill-assorted denizens of a common abode, gives it as his opinion that the prairie dog consents to the invasion of his premises alone through his inability to prevent it. as these prairie dog villages are always found on the naked prairies, where there is neither rocky den for the rattlesnake, nor shade for the blinking eyes of the owl, these two idle and impudent foreigners, availing themselves of the labors of the industrious little animal which builds itself a cool shelter from the sun, and a safe one from the storm, whenever their own necessities drive them to seek refuge from either sun or storm, enter uninvited and take possession. it is probable also, that so far from being a welcome guest, the rattlesnake occasionally gorges himself with a young prairie-dog, when other game is not conveniently nigh, or that the owl lies in wait at the door of its borrowed-without-leave domicile, and succeeds in nabbing a careless field-mouse more easily than it could catch the same game by seeking it as an honest owl should do. the owl and the rattlesnake are like the sioux when they go on a visit to the omahas--the visit being always timed so as to be identical in date with that of the government agents who are distributing food and clothing. they are very good friends for the nonce, the poor omahas not daring to be otherwise for fear of the ready vengeance on the next summer's buffalo hunt; therefore they conceal their grimaces and let the sioux eat them up; and when summer comes get massacred on their buffalo hunt, all the same. but to return to our brigade. about the last of october bridger's company moved down on to the yellowstone by a circuitous route through the north pass, now known as hell gate pass, to judith river, mussel shell river, cross creeks of the yellowstone, three forks of missouri, missouri lake, beaver head country, big horn river, and thence east again, and north again to the wintering ground in the great bend of the yellowstone. the company had not proceeded far in the blackfeet country, between hell gate pass and the yellowstone, before they were attacked by the blackfeet. on arriving at the yellowstone they discovered a considerable encampment of the enemy on an island or bar in the river, and proceeded to open hostilities before the indians should have discovered them. making little forts of sticks or bushes, each man advanced cautiously to the bank overlooking the island, pushing his leafy fort before him as he crept silently nearer, until a position was reached whence firing could commence with effect. the first intimation the luckless savages had of the neighborhood of the whites was a volley of shots discharged into their camp, killing several of their number. but as this was their own mode of attack, no reflections were likely to be wasted upon the unfairness of the assault; quickly springing to their arms the firing was returned, and for several hours was kept up on both sides. at night the indians stole off, having lost nearly thirty killed; nor did the trappers escape quite unhurt, three being killed and a few others wounded. since men were of such value to the fur companies, it would seem strange that they should deliberately enter upon an indian fight before being attacked. but unfortunate as these encounters really were, they knew of no other policy to be pursued. they, (the american companies,) were not resident, with a long acquaintance, and settled policy, such as rendered the hudson's bay company so secure amongst the savages. they knew that among these unfriendly indians, not to attack was to be attacked, and consequently little time was ever given for an indian to discover his vicinity to a trapper. the trapper's shot informed him of that, and afterwards the race was to the swift, and the battle to the strong. besides this acknowledged necessity for fighting whenever and wherever indians were met with in the blackfeet and crow countries, almost every trapper had some private injury to avenge--some theft, or wound, or imprisonment, or at the very least, some terrible fright sustained at the hands of the universal foe. therefore there was no reluctance to shoot into an indian camp, provided the position of the man shooting was a safe one, or more defensible than that of the man shot at. add to this that there was no law in the mountains, only license, it is easy to conjecture that might would have prevailed over right with far less incentive to the exercise of savage practices than actually did exist. many a trapper undoubtedly shot his indian "for the fun of it," feeling that it was much better to do so than run the risk of being shot at for no better reason. of this class of reasoners, it must be admitted, meek was one. indian-fighting, like bear-fighting, had come to be a sort of pastime, in which he was proud to be known as highly accomplished. having so many opportunities for the display of game qualities in encounters with these two by-no-means-to-be despised foes of the trapper, it was not often that they quarreled among themselves after the grand frolic of the rendezvous was over. it happened, however, during this autumn, that while the main camp was in the valley of the yellowstone, a party of eight trappers, including meek and a comrade named stanberry, were trapping together on the mussel shell, when the question as to which was the bravest man got started between them, and at length, in the heat of controversy, assumed such importance that it was agreed to settle the matter on the following day according to the virginia code of honor, _i.e._, by fighting a duel, and shooting at each other with guns, which hitherto had only done execution on bears and indians. but some listening spirit of the woods determined to avert the danger from these two equally brave trappers, and save their ammunition for its legitimate use, by giving them occasion to prove their courage almost on the instant. while sitting around the camp-fire discussing the coming event of the duel at thirty paces, a huge bear, already wounded by a shot from the gun of their hunter who was out looking for game, came running furiously into camp, giving each man there a challenge to fight or fly. "now," spoke up one of the men quickly, "let meek and stanberry prove which is bravest, by fighting the bear!" "agreed," cried the two as quickly, and both sprang with guns and wiping-sticks in hand, charging upon the infuriated beast as it reached the spot where they were awaiting it. stanberry was a small man, and meek a large one. perhaps it was owing to this difference of stature that meek was first to reach the bear as it advanced. running up with reckless bravado meek struck the creature two or three times over the head with his wiping-stick before aiming to fire, which however he did so quickly and so surely that the beast fell dead at his feet. this act settled the vexed question. nobody was disposed to dispute the point of courage with a man who would stop to strike a grizzly before shooting him: therefore meek was proclaimed by the common voice to be "cock of the walk" in that camp. the pipe of peace was solemnly smoked by himself and stanberry, and the tomahawk buried never more to be resurrected between them, while a fat supper of bear meat celebrated the compact of everlasting amity. it was not an unfrequent occurrence for a grizzly bear to be run into camp by the hunters, in the yellowstone country where this creature abounded. an amusing incident occurred not long after that just related, when the whole camp was at the cross creeks of the yellowstone, on the south side of that river. the hunters were out, and had come upon two or three bears in a thicket. as these animals sometimes will do, they started off in a great fright, running toward camp, the hunters after them, yelling, frightening them still more. a runaway bear, like a runaway horse, appears not to see where it is going, but keeps right on its course no matter what dangers lie in advance. so one of these animals having got headed for the middle of the encampment, saw nothing of what lay in its way, but ran on and on, apparently taking note of nothing but the yells in pursuit. so sudden and unexpected was the charge which he made upon camp, that the indian women, who were sitting on the ground engaged in some ornamental work, had no time to escape out of the way. one of them was thrown down and run over, and another was struck with such violence that she was thrown twenty feet from the spot where she was hastily attempting to rise. other objects in camp were upset and thrown out of the way, but without causing so much merriment as the mishaps of the two women who were so rudely treated by the monster. [illustration: satisfied with bear fighting.] it was also while the camp was at the cross creeks of the yellowstone that meek had one of his best fought battles with a grizzly bear. he was out with two companions, one gardiner, and mark head, a shawnee indian. seeing a very large bear digging roots in the creek bottom, meek proposed to attack it, if the others would hold his horse ready to mount if he failed to kill the creature. this being agreed to he advanced to within about forty paces of his game, when he raised his gun and attempted to fire, but the cap bursting he only roused the beast, which turned on him with a terrific noise between a snarl and a growl, showing some fearful looking teeth. meek turned to run for his horse, at the same time trying to put a cap on his gun; but when he had almost reached his comrades, their horses and his own took fright at the bear now close on his heels, and ran, leaving him alone with the now fully infuriated beast. just at the moment he succeeded in getting a cap on his gun, the teeth of the bear closed on his blanket capote which was belted around the waist, the suddenness and force of the seizure turning him around, as the skirt of his capote yielded to the strain and tore off at the belt. being now nearly face to face with his foe, the intrepid trapper thrust his gun into the creature's mouth and attempted again to fire, but the gun being double triggered and not set, it failed to go off. perceiving the difficulty he managed to set the triggers with the gun still in the bear's mouth, yet no sooner was this done than the bear succeeded in knocking it out, and firing as it slipped out, it hit her too low down to inflict a fatal wound and only served to irritate her still farther. in this desperate situation when meek's brain was rapidly working on the problem of live meek or live bear, two fresh actors appeared on the scene in the persons of two cubs, who seeing their mother in difficulty seemed desirous of doing something to assist her. their appearance seemed to excite the bear to new exertions, for she made one desperate blow at meek's empty gun with which he was defending himself, and knocked it out of his hands, and far down the bank or sloping hillside where the struggle was now going on. then being partially blinded by rage, she seized one of her cubs and began to box it about in a most unmotherly fashion. this diversion gave meek a chance to draw his knife from the scabbard, with which he endeavored to stab the bear behind the ear: but she was too quick for him, and with a blow struck it out of his hand, as she had the gun, nearly severing his forefinger. at this critical juncture the second cub interfered, and got a boxing from the old bear, as the first one had done. this too, gave meek time to make a movement, and loosening his tomahawk from his belt, he made one tremendous effort, taking deadly aim, and struck her just behind the ear, the tomahawk sinking into the brain, and his powerful antagonist lay dead before him. when the blow was struck he stood with his back against a little bluff of rock, beyond which it was impossible to retreat. it was his last chance, and his usual good fortune stood by him. when the struggle was over the weary victor mounted the rock behind him and looked down upon his enemy slain; and "came to the conclusion that he was satisfied with bar-fighting." but renown had sought him out even here, alone with his lifeless antagonist. capt. stuart with his artist, mr. miller, chanced upon this very spot, while yet the conqueror contemplated his slain enemy, and taking possession at once of the bear, whose skin was afterward preserved and stuffed, made a portrait of the "satisfied" slayer. a picture was subsequently painted by miller of this scene, and was copied in wax for a museum in st. louis, where it probably remains to this day, a monument of meek's best bear fight. as for meek's runaway horse and runaway comrades, they returned to the scene of action too late to be of the least service, except to furnish our hero with transportation to camp, which, considering the weight of his newly gathered laurels, was no light service after all. in november bridger's camp arrived at the bighorn river, expecting to winter; but finding the buffalo all gone, were obliged to cross the mountains lying between the bighorn and powder rivers to reach the buffalo country on the latter stream. the snow having already fallen quite deep on these mountains the crossing was attended with great difficulty; and many horses and mules were lost by sinking in the snow, or falling down precipices made slippery by the melting and freezing of the snow on the narrow ridges and rocky benches along which they were forced to travel. about christmas all the company went into winter-quarters on powder river, in the neighborhood of a company of bonneville's men, left under the command of antoine montero, who had established a trading-post and fort at this place, hoping, no doubt, that here they should be comparatively safe from the injurious competition of the older companies. the appearance of three hundred men, who had the winter before them in which to do mischief, was therefore as unpleasant as it was unexpected; and the result proved that even montero, who was bonneville's experienced trader, could not hold his own against so numerous and expert a band of marauders as bridger's men, assisted by the crows, proved themselves to be; for by the return of spring montero had very little remaining of the property belonging to the fort, nor anything to show for it. this mischievous war upon bonneville was prompted partly by the usual desire to cripple a rival trader, which the leaders encouraged in their men; but in some individual instances far more by the desire for revenge upon bonneville personally, on account of his censures passed upon the members of the monterey expedition, and on the ways of mountain-men generally. about the first of january, fontenelle, with four men, and captain stuart's party, left camp to go to st. louis for supplies. at fort laramie fontenelle committed suicide, in a fit of _mania a potu_, and his men returned to camp with the news. chapter xvii. . the fate of fontenelle should have served as a warning to his associates and fellows. 'should have done,' however, are often idle words, and as sad as they are idle; they match the poets 'might have been,' in their regretful impotency. perhaps there never was a winter camp in the mountains more thoroughly demoralized than that of bridger during the months of january and february. added to the whites, who were reckless enough, were a considerable party of delaware and shawnee indians, excellent allies, and skillful hunters and trappers, but having the indian's love of strong drink. "times were pretty good in the mountains," according to the mountain-man's notion of good times; that is to say, beaver was plenty, camp large, and alcohol abundant, if dear. under these favorable circumstance much alcohol was consumed, and its influence was felt in the manners not only of the trappers, white and red, but also upon the neighboring indians. the crows, who had for two years been on terms of a sort of semi-amity with the whites, found it to their interest to conciliate so powerful an enemy as the american fur company was now become, and made frequent visits to the camp, on which occasion they usually succeeded in obtaining a taste of the fire-water of which they were inordinately fond. occasionally a trader was permitted to sell liquor to the whole village, when a scene took place whose peculiar horrors were wholly indescribable, from the inability of language to convey an adequate idea of its hellish degradation. when a trader sold alcohol to a village it was understood both by himself and the indians what was to follow. and to secure the trader against injury a certain number of warriors were selected out of the village to act as a police force, and to guard the trader during the 'drunk' from the insane passions of his customers. to the police not a drop was to be given. this being arranged, and the village disarmed, the carousal began. every individual, man, woman, and child, was permitted to become intoxicated. every form of drunkenness, from the simple stupid to the silly, the heroic, the insane, the beastly, the murderous, displayed itself. the scenes which were then enacted beggared description, as they shocked the senses of even the hard-drinking, license-loving trappers who witnessed them. that they did not "point a moral" for these men, is the strangest part of the whole transaction. when everybody, police excepted, was drunk as drunk could be, the trader began to dilute his alcohol with water, until finally his keg contained water only, slightly flavored by the washings of the keg, and as they continued to drink of it without detecting its weak quality, they finally drank themselves sober, and were able at last to sum up the cost of their intoxication. this was generally nothing less than the whole property of the village, added to which were not a few personal injuries, and usually a few murders. the village now being poor, the indians were correspondingly humble; and were forced to begin a system of reprisal by stealing and making war, a course for which the traders were prepared, and which they avoided by leaving that neighborhood. such were some of the sins and sorrows for which the american fur companies were answerable, and which detracted seriously from the respect that the courage, and other good qualities of the mountain-men freely commanded. [illustration: the game of cache.] by the first of march these scenes of wrong and riot were over, for that season at least, and camp commenced moving back toward the blackfoot country. after recrossing the mountains, passing the bighorn, clarke's, and rosebud rivers, they came upon a blackfoot village on the yellowstone, which as usual they attacked, and a battle ensued, in which manhead, captain of the delawares was killed, another delaware named tom hill succeeding him in command. the fight did not result in any great loss or gain to either party. the camp of bridger fought its way past the village, which was what they must do, in order to proceed. meek, however, was not quite satisfied with the punishment the blackfeet had received for the killing of manhead, who had been in the fight with him when the camanches attacked them on the plains. desirous of doing something on his own account, he induced a comrade named leblas, to accompany him to the village, after night had closed over the scene of the late contest. stealing into the village with a noiselessness equal to that of one of fennimore cooper's indian scouts, these two daring trappers crept so near that they could look into the lodges, and see the indians at their favorite game of _cache_. inferring from this that the savages did not feel their losses very severely, they determined to leave some sign of their visit, and wound their enemy in his most sensitive part, the horse. accordingly they cut the halters of a number of the animals, fastened in the customary manner to a stake, and succeeded in getting off with nine of them, which property they proceeded to appropriate to their own use. as the spring and summer advanced, bridger's brigade advanced into the mountains, passing the cross creek of the yellowstone, twenty-five-yard river, cherry river, and coming on to the head-waters of the missouri spent the early part of the summer in that locality. between gallatin and madison forks the camp struck the great trail of the blackfeet. meek and mark head had fallen four or five days behind camp, and being on this trail felt a good deal of uneasiness. this feeling was not lessened by seeing, on coming to madison fork, the skeletons of two men tied to or suspended from trees, the flesh eaten off their bones. concluding discretion to be the safest part of valor in this country, they concealed themselves by day and traveled by night, until camp was finally reached near henry's lake. on this march they forded a flooded river, on the back of the same mule, their traps placed on the other, and escaped from pursuit of a dozen yelling savages, who gazed after them in astonishment; "taking their mule," said mark head, "to be a beaver, and themselves great medicine men." "that," said meek, "is what i call 'cooning' a river." from this point meek set out with a party of thirty or forty trappers to travel up the river to head-waters, accompanied by the famous indian painter stanley, whose party was met with, this spring, traveling among the mountains. the party of trappers were a day or two ahead of the main camp when they found themselves following close after the big blackfoot village which had recently passed over the trail, as could be seen by the usual signs; and also by the dead bodies strewn along the trail, victims of that horrible scourge, the small pox. the village was evidently fleeing to the mountains, hoping to rid itself of the plague in their colder and more salubrious air. not long after coming upon these evidences of proximity to an enemy, a party of a hundred and fifty of their warriors were discovered encamped in a defile or narrow bottom enclosed by high bluffs, through which the trappers would have to pass. seeing that in order to pass this war party, and the village, which was about half a mile in advance, there would have to be some fighting done, the trappers resolved to begin the battle at once by attacking their enemy, who was as yet ignorant of their neighborhood. in pursuance of this determination, meek, newell, mansfield, and le blas, commenced hostilities. leaving their horses in camp, they crawled along on the edge of the overhanging bluff until opposite to the encampment of blackfeet, firing on them from the shelter of some bushes which grew among the rocks. but the blackfeet, though ignorant of the number of their enemy, were not to be dislodged so easily, and after an hour or two of random shooting, contrived to scale the bluff at a point higher up, and to get upon a ridge of ground still higher than that occupied by the four trappers. this movement dislodged the latter, and they hastily retreated through the bushes and returned to camp. the next day, the main camp having come up, the fight was renewed. while the greater body of the company, with the pack-horses, were passing along the high bluff overhanging them, the party of the day before, and forty or fifty others, undertook to drive the indians out of the bottom, and by keeping them engaged allow the train to pass in safety. the trappers rode to the fight on this occasion, and charged the blackfeet furiously, they having joined the village a little farther on. a general skirmish now took place. meek, who was mounted on a fine horse, was in the thickest of the fight. he had at one time a side to side race with an indian who strung his bow so hard that the arrow dropped, just as meek, who had loaded his gun running, was ready to fire, and the indian dropped after his arrow. newell too had a desperate conflict with a half-dead warrior, who having fallen from a wound, he thought dead and was trying to scalp. springing from his horse he seized the indian's long thick hair in one hand, and with his knife held in the other made a pass at the scalp, when the savage roused up knife in hand, and a struggle took place in which it was for a time doubtful which of the combatants would part with the coveted scalp-lock. newell might have been glad to resign the trophy, and leave the fallen warrior his tuft of hair, but his fingers were in some way caught by some gun-screws with which the savage had ornamented his _coiffure_, and would not part company. in this dilemma there was no other alternative but fight. the miserable savage was dragged a rod or two in the struggle, and finally dispatched. mansfield also got into such close quarters, surrounded by the enemy, that he gave himself up for lost, and called out to his comrades: "tell old gabe, (bridger,) that old cotton (his own sobriquet) is gone." he lived, however, to deliver his own farewell message, for at this critical juncture the trappers were re-inforced, and relieved. still the fight went on, the trappers gradually working their way to the upper end of the enclosed part of the valley, past the point of danger. just before getting clear of this entanglement meek became the subject of another picture, by stanley, who was viewing the battle from the heights above the valley. the picture which is well known as "the trapper's last shot," represents him as he turned upon his horse, a fine and spirited animal, to discharge his last shot at an indian pursuing, while in the bottom, at a little distance away, other indians are seen skulking in the tall reedy grass. [illustration: _the trapper's last shot._] the last shot having been discharged with fatal effect, our trapper, so persistently lionized by painters, put his horse to his utmost speed and soon after overtook the camp, which had now passed the strait of danger. but the blackfeet were still unsatisfied with the result of the contest. they followed after, reinforced from the village, and attacked the camp. in the fight which followed a blackfoot woman's horse was shot down, and meek tried to take her prisoner: but two or three of her people coming to the rescue, engaged his attention; and the woman was saved by seizing hold of the tail of her husband's horse, which setting off at a run, carried her out of danger. [illustration: "and thereby hangs a tail."] the blackfeet found the camp of bridger too strong for them. they were severely beaten and compelled to retire to their village, leaving bridger free to move on. the following day the camp reached the village of little-robe, a chief of the peagans, who held a talk with bridger, complaining that his nation were all perishing from the small-pox which had been given to them by the whites. bridger was able to explain to little-robe his error; inasmuch as although the disease might have originated among the whites, it was communicated to the blackfeet by jim beckwith, a negro, and principal chief of their enemies the crows. this unscrupulous wretch had caused two infected articles to be taken from a mackinaw boat, up from st. louis, and disposed of to the blackfeet--whence the horrible scourge under which they were suffering. this matter being explained, little-robe consented to trade horses and skins; and the two camps parted amicably. the next day after this friendly talk, bridger being encamped on the trail in advance of the blackfeet, an indian came riding into camp, with his wife and daughter, pack-horse and lodge-pole, and all his worldly goods, unaware until he got there of the snare into which he had fallen. the french trappers, generally, decreed to kill the man and take possession of the woman. but meek, kit carson, and others of the american trappers of the better sort, interfered to prevent this truly savage act. meek took the woman's horse by the head, carson the man's, the daughter following, and led them out of camp. few of the frenchmen cared to interrupt either of these two men, and they were suffered to depart in peace. when at a safe distance, meek stopped, and demanded as some return for having saved the man's life, a present of tobacco, a luxury which, from the indian's pipe, he suspected him to possess. about enough for two chews was the result of this demand, complied with rather grudgingly, the indian vieing with the trapper in his devotion to the weed. just at this time, owing to the death of fontenelle, and a consequent delay in receiving supplies, tobacco was scarce among the mountaineers. bridger's brigade of trappers met with no other serious interruptions on their summer's march. they proceeded to henry's lake, and crossing the rocky mountains, traveled through the pine woods, always a favorite region, to lewis' lake on lewis' fork of the snake river; and finally up the grovant fork, recrossing the mountains to wind river, where the rendezvous for this year was appointed. here, once more, the camp was visited by a last years' acquaintance. this was none other than mr. gray, of the flathead mission, who was returning to the states on business connected with the missionary enterprise, and to provide himself with a helpmeet for life,--a co-laborer and sufferer in the contemplated toil of teaching savages the rudiments of a religion difficult even to the comprehension of an old civilization. mr. gray was accompanied by two young men (whites) who wished to return to the states, and also by a son of one of the flathead chiefs. two other flathead indians, and one iroquois and one snake indian, were induced to accompany mr. gray. the undertaking was not without danger, and so the leaders of the fur company assured him. but mr. gray was inclined to make light of the danger, having traveled with entire safety when under the protection of the fur companies the year before. he proceeded without interruption until he reached ash hollow, in the neighborhood of fort laramie, when his party was attacked by a large band of sioux, and compelled to accept battle. the five indians, with the whites, fought bravely, killing fifteen of the sioux, before a parley was obtained by the intervention of a french trader who chanced to be among the sioux. when mr. gray was able to hold a 'talk' with the attacking party he was assured that his life and that of his two white associates would be spared, but that they wanted to kill the strange indians and take their fine horses. it is not at all probable that mr. gray consented to this sacrifice; though he has been accused of doing so. no doubt the sioux took advantage of some hesitation on his part, and rushed upon his indian allies in an unguarded moment. however that may be, his allies were killed and he was allowed to escape, after giving up the property belonging to them, and a portion of his own. this affair was the occasion of much ill-feeling toward mr. gray, when, in the following year, he returned to the mountains with the tale of massacre of his friends and his own escape. the mountain-men, although they used their influence to restrain the vengeful feelings of the flathead tribe, whispered amongst themselves that gray had preferred his own life to that of his friends. the old flathead chief too, who had lost a son by the massacre, was hardly able to check his impulsive desire for revenge; for he held mr. gray responsible for his son's life. nothing more serious, however, grew out of this unhappy tragedy than a disaffection among the tribe toward mr. gray, which made his labors useless, and finally determined him to remove to the wallamet valley. there were no outsiders besides gray's party at the rendezvous of this year, except captain stuart, and he was almost as good a mountaineer as any. this doughty english traveler had the bad fortune together with that experienced leader fitzpatrick, of being robbed by the crows in the course of the fall hunt, in the crow country. these expert horse thieves had succeeded in stealing nearly all the horses belonging to the joint camp, and had so disabled the company that it could not proceed. in this emergency, newell, who had long been a sub-trader and was wise in indian arts and wiles, was sent to hold a talk with the thieves. the talk was held, according to custom, in the medicine lodge, and the usual amount of smoking, of long silences, and grave looks, had to be participated in, before the subject on hand could be considered. then the chiefs complained as usual of wrongs at the hands of the white men; of their fear of small-pox, from which some of their tribe had suffered; of friends killed in battle with the whites, and all the list of ills that crow flesh is heir to at the will of their white enemies. the women too had their complaints to proffer, and the number of widows and orphans in the tribe was pathetically set forth. the chiefs also made a strong point of this latter complaint; and on it the wily newell hung his hopes of recovering the stolen property. "it is true," said he to the chiefs, "that you have sustained heavy losses. but that is not the fault of the blanket chief (bridger.) if your young men have been killed, they were killed when attempting to rob or kill our captain's men. if you have lost horses, your young men have stolen five to our one. if you are poor in skins and other property, it is because you sold it all for drink which did you no good. neither is bridger to blame that you have had the small-pox. your own chief, in trying to kill your enemies the blackfeet, brought that disease into the country. "but it is true that you have many widows and orphans to support, and that is bad. i pity the orphans, and will help you to support them, if you will restore to my captain the property stolen from his camp. otherwise bridger will bring more horses, and plenty of ammunition, and there will be more widows and orphans among the crows than ever before." this was a kind of logic easy to understand and quick to convince among savages. the bribe, backed by a threat, settled the question of the restoration of the horses, which were returned without further delay, and a present of blankets and trinkets was given, ostensibly to the bereaved women, really to the covetous chiefs. chapter xviii. . the decline of the business of hunting furs began to be quite obvious about this time. besides the american and st. louis companies, and the hudson's bay company, there were numerous lone traders with whom the ground was divided. the autumn of this year was spent by the american company, as formerly, in trapping beaver on the streams issuing from the eastern side of the rocky mountains. when the cold weather finally drove the fur company to the plains, they went into winter quarters once more in the neighborhood of the crows on powder river. here were re-enacted the wild scenes of the previous winter, both trappers and indians being given up to excesses. on the return of spring, bridger again led his brigade all through the yellowstone country, to the streams on the north side of the missouri, to the head-waters of that river; and finally rendezvoused on the north fork of the yellowstone, near yellowstone lake. though the amount of furs taken on the spring hunt was considerable, it was by no means equal to former years. the fact was becoming apparent that the beaver was being rapidly exterminated. however there was beaver enough in camp to furnish the means for the usual profligacy. horse-racing, betting, gambling, drinking, were freely indulged in. in the midst of this "fun," there appeared at the rendezvous mr. gray, now accompanied by mrs. gray and six other missionary ladies and gentlemen. here also were two gentlemen from the methodist mission on the wallamet, who were returning to the states. captain stuart was still traveling with the fur company, and was also present with his party; besides which a hudson's bay trader named ematinger was encamped near by. as if actuated to extraordinary displays by the unusual number of visitors, especially the four ladies, both trappers and indians conducted themselves like the mad-caps they were. the shawnees and delawares danced their great war-dance before the tents of the missionaries; and joe meek, not to be outdone, arrayed himself in a suit of armor belonging to captain stuart and strutted about the encampment; then mounting his horse played the part of an ancient knight, with a good deal of _eclat_. meek had not abstained from the alcohol kettle, but had offered it and partaken of it rather more freely than usual; so that when rendezvous was broken up, the st. louis company gone to the popo agie, and the american company going to wind river, he found that his wife, a nez perce who had succeeded umentucken in his affections, had taken offence, or a fit of homesickness, which was synonymous, and departed with the party of ematinger and the missionaries, intending to visit her people at walla-walla. this desertion wounded meek's feelings; for he prided himself on his courtesy to the sex, and did not like to think that he had not behaved handsomely. all the more was he vexed with himself because his spouse had carried with her a pretty and sprightly baby-daughter, of whom the father was fond and proud, and who had been christened helen mar, after one of the heroines of miss porter's _scottish chiefs_--a book much admired in the mountains, as it has been elsewhere. therefore at the first camp of the american company, meek resolved to turn his back on the company, and go after the mother and daughter. obtaining a fresh kettle of alcohol, to keep up his spirits, he left camp, returning toward the scene of the late rendezvous. but in the effort to keep up his spirits he had drank too much alcohol, and the result was that on the next morning he found himself alone on the wind river mountain, with his horses and pack mules, and very sick indeed. taking a little more alcohol to brace up his nerves, he started on again, passing around the mountain on to the sweetwater; thence to the sandy, and thence across a country without water for seventy-five miles, to green river, where the camp of ematinger was overtaken. the heat was excessive; and the absence of water made the journey across the arid plain between sandy and green rivers one of great suffering to the traveler and his animals; and the more so as the frequent references to the alcohol kettle only increased the thirst-fever instead of allaying it. but meek was not alone in suffering. about half way across the scorching plain he discovered a solitary woman's figure standing in the trail, and two riding horses near her, whose drooping heads expressed their dejection. on coming up with this strange group, meek found the woman to be one of the missionary ladies, a mrs. smith, and that her husband was lying on the ground, dying, as the poor sufferer believed himself, for water. mrs. smith made a weeping appeal to meek for water for her dying husband; and truly the poor woman's situation was a pitiable one. behind camp, with no protection from the perils of the desert and wilderness--only a terrible care instead--the necessity of trying to save her husband's life. as no water was to be had, alcohol was offered to the famishing man, who, however, could not be aroused from his stupor of wretchedness. seeing that death really awaited the unlucky missionary unless something could be done to cause him to exert himself, meek commenced at once, and with unction, to abuse the man for his unmanliness. his style, though not very refined, was certainly very vigorous. "you're a ---- pretty fellow to be lying on the ground here, lolling your tongue out of your mouth, and trying to die. die, if you want to, you're of no account and will never be missed. here's your wife, who you are keeping standing here in the hot sun; why don't _she_ die? she's got more pluck than a white-livered chap like you. but i'm not going to leave her waiting here for you to die. thar's a band of indians behind on the trail, and i've been riding like ---- to keep out of their way. if you want to stay here and be scalped, you can stay; mrs. smith is going with me. come, madam," continued meek, leading up her horse, "let me help you to mount, for we must get out of this cursed country as fast as possible." poor mrs. smith did not wish to leave her husband; nor did she relish the notion of staying to be scalped. despair tugged at her heart-strings. she would have sunk to the ground in a passion of tears, but meek was too much in earnest to permit precious time to be thus wasted. "get on your horse," said he rather roughly. "you can't save your husband by staying here, crying. it is better that one should die than two; and he seems to be a worthless dog anyway. let the indians have him." almost lifting her upon the horse, meek tore the distracted woman away from her husband, who had yet strength enough to gasp out an entreaty not to be left. "you can follow us if you choose," said the apparently merciless trapper, "or you can stay where you are. mrs. smith can find plenty of better men than you. come, madam!" and he gave the horse a stroke with his riding-whip which started him into a rapid pace. the unhappy wife, whose conscience reproached her for leaving her husband to die alone, looked back, and saw him raising his head to gaze after them. her grief broke out afresh, and she would have gone back even then to remain with him: but meek was firm, and again started up her horse. before they were quite out of sight, meek turned in his saddle, and beheld the dying man sitting up. "hurrah;" said he: "he's all right. he will overtake us in a little while:" and as he predicted, in little over an hour smith came riding up, not more than half dead by this time. the party got into camp on green river, about eleven o'clock that night, and mrs. smith having told the story of her adventures with the unknown trapper who had so nearly kidnaped her, the laugh and the cheer went round among the company. "that's meek," said ematinger, "you may rely on that. he's just the one to kidnap a woman in that way." when mrs. smith fully realized the service rendered, she was abundantly grateful, and profuse were the thanks which our trapper received, even from the much-abused husband, who was now thoroughly alive again. meek failed to persuade his wife to return with him. she was homesick for her people, and would go to them. but instead of turning back, he kept on with ematinger's camp as far as fort hall, which post was then in charge of courtenay walker. while the camp was at soda springs, meek observed the missionary ladies baking bread in a tin reflector before a fire. bread was a luxury unknown to the mountain-man,--and as a sudden recollection of his boyhood, and the days of bread-and-butter came over him, his mouth began to water. almost against his will he continued to hang round the missionary camp, thinking about the bread. at length one of the nez perces, named james, whom the missionary had taught to sing, at their request struck up a hymn, which he sang in a very creditable manner. as a reward of his pious proficiency, one of the ladies gave james a biscuit. a bright thought struck our longing hero's brain. "go back," said he to james, "and sing another hymn; and when the ladies give you another biscuit, bring it to me." and in this manner, he obtained a taste of the coveted luxury, bread--of which, during nine years in the mountains he had not eaten. at fort hall, meek parted company with the missionaries, and with his wife and child. as the little black-eyed daughter took her departure in company with this new element in savage life,--the missionary society,--her father could have had no premonition of the fate to which the admixture of the savage and the religious elements was step by step consigning her. after remaining a few days at the fort, meek, who found some of his old comrades at this place, went trapping with them up the portneuf, and soon made up a pack of one hundred and fifty beaver-skins. these, on returning to the fort, he delivered to jo walker, one of the american company's traders at that time, and took walker's receipt for them. he then, with mansfield and wilkins, set out about the first of september for the flathead country, where wilkins had a wife. in their company was an old flathead woman, who wished to return to her people, and took this opportunity. the weather was still extremely warm. it had been a season of great drought, and the streams were nearly all entirely dried up. the first night out, the horses, eight in number, strayed off in search of water, and were lost. now commenced a day of fearful sufferings. no water had been found since leaving the fort. the loss of the horses made it necessary for the company to separate to look for them; mansfield and wilkins going in one direction, meek and the old flathead woman in another. the little coolness and moisture which night had imparted to the atmosphere was quickly dissipated by the unchecked rays of the pitiless sun shining on a dry and barren plain, with not a vestige of verdure anywhere in sight. on and on went the old flathead woman, keeping always in the advance, and on and on followed meek, anxiously scanning the horizon for a chance sight of the horses. higher and higher mounted the sun, the temperature increasing in intensity until the great plain palpitated with radiated heat, and the horizon flickered almost like a flame where the burning heavens met the burning earth. meek had been drinking a good deal of rum at the fort, which circumstance did not lessen the terrible consuming thirst that was torturing him. noon came, and passed, and still the heat and the suffering increased, the fever and craving of hunger being now added to that of thirst. on and on, through the whole of that long scorching afternoon, trotted the old flathead woman in the peculiar traveling gait of the indian and the mountaineer, meek following at a little distance, and going mad, as he thought, for a little water. and mad he probably was, as famine sometimes makes its victims. when night at last closed in, he laid down to die, as the missionary smith had done before. but he did not remember smith: he only thought of water, and heard it running, and fancied the old woman was lapping it like a wolf. then he rose to follow her and find it; it was always just ahead, and the woman was howling to him to show him the trail. thus the night passed, and in the cool of the early morning he experienced a little relief. he was really following his guide, who as on the day before was trotting on ahead. then the thought possessed him to overtake and kill her, hoping from her shriveled body to obtain a morsel of food, and drop of moisture. but his strength was failing, and his guide so far ahead that he gave up the thought as involving too great exertion, continuing to follow her in a helpless and hopeless kind of way. at last! there was no mistake this time: he heard running water, and the old woman _was_ lapping it like a wolf. with a shriek of joy he ran and fell on his face in the water, which was not more than one foot in depth, nor the stream more than fifteen feet wide. but it had a white pebbly bottom; and the water was clear, if not very cool. it was something to thank god for, which the none too religious trapper acknowledged by a fervent "thank god!" for a long time he lay in the water, swallowing it, and by thrusting his finger down his throat vomiting it up again, to prevent surfeit, his whole body taking in the welcome moisture at all its million pores. the fever abated, a feeling of health returned, and the late perishing man was restored to life and comparative happiness. the stream proved to be godin's fork, and here meek and his faithful old guide rested until evening, in the shade of some willows, where their good fortune was completed by the appearance of mansfield and wilkins with the horses. the following morning the men found and killed a fat buffalo cow, whereby all their wants were supplied, and good feeling restored in the little camp. from godin's fork they crossed over to salmon river, and presently struck the nez perce trail which leads from that river over into the beaver-head country, on the beaver-head or jefferson fork of the missouri, where there was a flathead and nez perce village, on or about the present site of virginia city, in montana. not stopping long here, meek and his companions went on to the madison fork with the indian village, and to the shores of missouri lake, joining in the fall hunt for buffalo. [illustration: horse-tail fall.] chapter xix. "tell me all about a buffalo hunt," said the writer to joe meek, as we sat at a window overlooking the columbia river, where it has a beautiful stretch of broad waters and curving wooded shores, and talking about mountain life, "tell me how you used to hunt buffalo." "waal, there is a good deal of sport in runnin' buffalo. when the camp discovered a band, then every man that wanted to run, made haste to catch his buffalo horse. we sometimes went out thirty or forty strong; sometimes two or three, and at other times a large party started on the hunt; the more the merrier. we alway had great bantering about our horses, each man, according to his own account, having the best one. "when we first start we ride slow, so as not to alarm the buffalo. the nearer we come to the band the greater our excitement. the horses seem to feel it too, and are worrying to be off. when we come so near that the band starts, then the word is given, our horses' mettle is up, and away we go! [illustration: _a buffalo hunt._] "thar may be ten thousand in a band. directly we crowd them so close that nothing can be seen but dust, nor anything heard but the roar of their trampling and bellowing. the hunter now keeps close on their heels to escape being blinded by the dust, which does not rise as high as a man on horseback, for thirty yards behind the animals. as soon as we are close enough the firing begins, and the band is on the run; and a herd of buffalo can run about as fast as a good race-horse. how they _do_ thunder along! they give us a pretty sharp race. take care! down goes a rider, and away goes his horse with the band. do you think we stopped to look after the fallen man? not we. we rather thought that war fun, and if he got killed, why, 'he war unlucky, that war all. plenty more men: couldn't bother about him.' "thar's a fat cow ahead. i force my way through the band to come up with her. the buffalo crowd around so that i have to put my foot on them, now on one side, now the other, to keep them off my horse. it is lively work, i can tell you. a man has to look sharp not to be run down by the band pressing him on; buffalo and horse at the top of their speed. "look out; thar's a ravine ahead, as you can see by the plunge which the band makes. hold up! or somebody goes to the d--l now. if the band is large it fills the ravine full to the brim, and the hindmost of the herd pass over on top of the foremost. it requires horsemanship not to be carried over without our own consent; but then we mountain-men are _all_ good horsemen. over the ravine we go; but we do it our own way. "we keep up the chase for about four miles, selecting our game as we run, and killing a number of fat cows to each man; some more and some less. when our horses are tired we slacken up, and turn back. we meet the camp-keepers with pack-horses. they soon butcher, pack up the meat, and we all return to camp, whar we laugh at each other's mishaps, and eat fat meat: and this constitutes the glory of mountain life." "but you were going to tell me about the buffalo hunt at missouri lake?" "thar isn't much to tell. it war pretty much like other buffalo hunts. thar war a lot of us trappers happened to be at a nez perce and flathead village in the fall of ' , when they war agoin' to kill winter meat; and as their hunt lay in the direction we war going, we joined in. the old nez perce chief, _kow-e-so-te_ had command of the village, and we trappers had to obey him, too. "we started off slow; nobody war allowed to go ahead of camp. in this manner we caused the buffalo to move on before us, but not to be alarmed. we war eight or ten days traveling from the beaver-head to missouri lake, and by the time we got thar, the whole plain around the lake war crowded with buffalo, and it war a splendid sight! "in the morning the old chief harangued the men of his village, and ordered us all to get ready for the surround. about nine o'clock every man war mounted, and we began to move. "that war a sight to make a man's blood warm! a thousand men, all trained hunters, on horseback, carrying their guns, and with their horses painted in the height of indians' fashion. we advanced until within about half a mile of the herd; then the chief ordered us to deploy to the right and left, until the wings of the column extended a long way, and advance again. "by this time the buffalo war all moving, and we had come to within a hundred yards of them. _kow-e-so-te_ then gave us the word, and away we went, pell-mell. heavens, what a charge! what a rushing and roaring--men shooting, buffalo bellowing and trampling until the earth shook under them! "it war the work of half an hour to slay two thousand or may be three thousand animals. when the work was over, we took a view of the field. here and there and everywhere, laid the slain buffalo. occasionally a horse with a broken leg war seen; or a man with a broken arm; or maybe he had fared worse, and had a broken head. "now came out the women of the village to help us butcher and pack up the meat. it war a big job; but we war not long about it. by night the camp war full of meat, and everybody merry. bridger's camp, which war passing that way, traded with the village for fifteen hundred buffalo tongues--the tongue being reckoned a choice part of the animal. and that's the way we helped the nez perces hunt buffalo." "but when you were hunting for your own subsistence in camp, you sometimes went out in small parties?" "oh yes, it war the same thing on a smaller scale. one time kit carson and myself, and a little frenchman, named marteau, went to run buffalo on powder river. when we came in sight of the band it war agreed that kit and the frenchman should do the running, and i should stay with the pack animals. the weather war very cold and i didn't like my part of the duty much. "the frenchman's horse couldn't run; so i lent him mine. kit rode his own; not a good buffalo horse either. in running, my horse fell with the frenchman, and nearly killed him. kit, who couldn't make his horse catch, jumped off, and caught mine, and tried it again. this time he came up with the band, and killed four fat cows. "when i came up with the pack-animals, i asked kit how he came by my horse. he explained, and wanted to know if i had seen anything of marteau: said my horse had fallen with him, and he thought killed him. 'you go over the other side of yon hill, and see,' said kit. "what'll i do with him if he is dead?" said i. "can't you pack him to camp?" "pack ----" said i; "i should rather pack a load of meat." "waal," said kit, "i'll butcher, if you'll go over and see, anyhow." "so i went over, and found the dead man leaning his head on his hand, and groaning; for he war pretty bad hurt. i got him on his horse, though, after a while, and took him back to whar kit war at work. we soon finished the butchering job, and started back to camp with our wounded frenchman, and three loads of fat meat." "you were not very compassionate toward each other, in the mountains?" "that war not our business. we had no time for such things. besides, live men war what we wanted; dead ones war of no account." chapter xx. . from missouri lake, meek started alone for the gallatin fork of the missouri, trapping in a mountain basin called gardiner's hole. beaver were plenty here, but it was getting late in the season, and the weather was cold in the mountains. on his return, in another basin called the burnt hole, he found a buffalo skull; and knowing that bridger's camp would soon pass that way, wrote on it the number of beaver he had taken, and also his intention to go to fort hall to sell them. in a few days the camp passing found the skull, which grinned its threat at the angry booshways, as the chuckling trapper had calculated that it would. to prevent its execution runners were sent after him, who, however, failed to find him, and nothing was known of the supposed renegade for some time. but as bridger passed through pierre's hole, on his way to green river to winter, he was surprised at meek's appearance in camp. he was soon invited to the lodge of the booshways, and called to account for his supposed apostacy. meek, for a time, would neither deny nor confess, but put on his free trapper airs, and laughed in the face of the booshways. bridger, who half suspected some trick, took the matter lightly, but dripps was very much annoyed, and made some threats, at which meek only laughed the more. finally the certificate from their own trader, jo walker, was produced, the new pack of furs surrendered, and dripps' wrath turned into smiles of approval. here again meek parted company with the main camp, and went on an expedition with seven other trappers, under john larison, to the salmon river: but found the cold very severe on this journey, and the grass scarce and poor, so that the company lost most of their horses. on arriving at the nez perce village in the forks of the salmon, meek found the old chief _kow-e-so-te_ full of the story of the missionaries and their religion, and anxious to hear preaching. reports were continually arriving by the indians, of the wonderful things which were being taught by mr. and mrs. spalding at lapwai, on the clearwater, and at waiilatpu, on the walla-walla river. it was now nearly two years since these missions had been founded, and the number of converts among the nez perces and flatheads was already considerable. here was an opening for a theological student, such as joe meek was! after some little assumption of modesty, meek intimated that he thought himself capable of giving instruction on religious subjects; and being pressed by the chief, finally consented to preach to _kow-e-so-te's_ people. taking care first to hold a private council with his associates, and binding them not to betray him, meek preached his first sermon that evening, going regularly through with the ordinary services of a "meeting." these services were repeated whenever the indians seemed to desire it, until christmas. then, the village being about to start upon a hunt, the preacher took occasion to intimate to the chief that a wife would be an agreeable present. to this, however, _kow-e-so-te_ demurred, saying that spalding's religion did not permit men to have two wives: that the nez perces had many of them given up their wives on this account; and that therefore, since meek already had one wife among the nez perces, he could not have another without being false to the religion he professed. to this perfectly clear argument meek replied, that among white men, if a man's wife left him without his consent, as his had done, he could procure a divorce, and take another wife. besides, he could tell him how the bible related many stories of its best men having several wives. but _kow-e-so-te_ was not easily convinced. he could not see how, if the bible approved of polygamy, spalding should insist on the indians putting away all but one of their wives. "however," says meek, "after about two weeks' explanation of the doings of solomon and david, i succeeded in getting the chief to give me a young girl, whom i called virginia;--my present wife, and the mother of seven children." after accompanying the indians on their hunt to the beaver-head country, where they found plenty of buffalo, meek remained with the nez perce village until about the first of march, when he again intimated to the chief that it was the custom of white men to pay their preachers. accordingly the people were notified, and the winter's salary began to arrive. it amounted altogether to thirteen horses, and many packs of beaver, beside sheep-skins and buffalo-robes; so that he "considered that with his young wife, he had made a pretty good winter's work of it." in march he set out trapping again, in company with one of his comrades named allen, a man to whom he was much attached. they traveled along up and down the salmon, to godin's river, henry's fork of the snake, to pierre's fork, and lewis' fork, and the muddy, and finally set their traps on a little stream that runs out of the pass which leads to pierre's hole. leaving their camp one morning to take up their traps, they were discovered and attacked by a party of blackfeet just as they came near the trapping ground. the only refuge at hand was a thicket of willows on the opposite side of the creek, and towards this the trappers directed their flight. meek, who was in advance, succeeded in gaining the thicket without being seen; but allen stumbled and fell in crossing the stream, and wet his gun. he quickly recovered his footing and crossed over; but the blackfeet had seen him enter the thicket, and came up to within a short distance, yet not approaching too near the place where they knew he was concealed. unfortunately, allen, in his anxiety to be ready for defense, commenced snapping caps on his gun to dry it. the quick ears of the savages caught the sound, and understood the meaning of it. knowing him to be defenceless, they plunged into the thicket after him, shooting him almost immediately, and dragging him out still breathing to a small prairie about two rods away. and now commenced a scene which meek was compelled to witness, and which he declares nearly made him insane through sympathy, fear, horror, and suspense as to his own fate. those devils incarnate deliberately cut up their still palpitating victim into a hundred pieces, each taking a piece; accompanying the horrible and inhuman butchery with every conceivable gesture of contempt for the victim, and of hellish delight in their own acts. meek, who was only concealed by the small patch of willows, and a pit in the sand hastily scooped out with his knife until it was deep enough to lie in, was in a state of the most fearful excitement. all day long he had to endure the horrors of his position. every moment seemed an hour, every hour a day, until when night came, and the indians left the place, he was in a high state of fever. about nine o'clock that night he ventured to creep to the edge of the little prairie, where he lay and listened a long time, without hearing anything but the squirrels running over the dry leaves; but which he constantly feared was the stealthy approach of the enemy. at last, however, he summoned courage to crawl out on to the open ground, and gradually to work his way to a wooded bluff not far distant. the next day he found two of his horses, and with these set out alone for green river, where the american company was to rendezvous. after twenty-six days of solitary and cautious travel he reached the appointed place in safety, having suffered fearfully from the recollection of the tragic scene he had witnessed in the death of his friend, and also from solitude and want of food. the rendezvous of this year was at bonneville's old fort on green river, and was the last one held in the mountains by the american fur company. beaver was growing scarce, and competition was strong. on the disbanding of the company, some went to santa fe, some to california, others to the lower columbia, and a few remained in the mountains trapping, and selling their furs to the hudson's bay company at fort hall. as to the leaders, some of them continued for a few years longer to trade with the indians, and others returned to the states, to lose their fortunes more easily far than they made them. of the men who remained in the mountains trapping, that year, meek was one. leaving his wife at fort hall, he set out in company with a shawnee, named big jim, to take beaver on salt river, a tributary of the snake. the two trappers had each his riding and his pack horse, and at night generally picketed them all; but one night big jim allowed one of his to remain loose to graze. this horse, after eating for some hours, came back and laid down behind the other horses, and every now and then raised up his head; which slight movement at length aroused big jim's attention, and his suspicions also. "my friend," said he in a whisper to meek, "indian steal our horses." "jump up and shoot," was the brief answer. jim shot, and ran out to see the result. directly he came back saying: "my friend, i shoot my horse; break him neck;" and big jim became disconsolate over what his white comrade considered a very good joke. the hunt was short and not very remunerative in furs. meek soon returned to fort hall; and when he did so, found his new wife had left that post in company with a party under newell, to go to fort crockett, on green river,--newell's wife being a sister of virginia's,--on learning which he started on again alone, to join that party. on bear river, he fell in with a portion of that quixotic band, under farnham, which was looking for paradise and perfection, something on the fourier plan, somewhere in this western wilderness. they had already made the discovery in crossing the continent, that perfect disinterestedness was lacking among themselves; and that the nearer they got to their western paradise the farther off it seemed in their own minds. continuing his journey alone, soon after parting from farnham, he lost the hammer of his gun, which accident deprived him of the means of subsisting himself, and he had no dried meat, nor provisions of any kind. the weather, too, was very cold, increasing the necessity for food to support animal heat. however, the deprivation of food was one of the accidents to which mountain-men were constantly liable, and one from which he had often suffered severely; therefore he pushed on, without feeling any unusual alarm, and had arrived within fifteen miles of the fort before he yielded to the feeling of exhaustion, and laid down beside the trail to rest. whether he would ever have finished the journey alone he could not tell; but fortunately for him, he was discovered by jo walker, and gordon, another acquaintance, who chanced to pass that way toward the fort. meek answered their hail, and inquired if they had anything to eat. walker replied in the affirmative, and getting down from his horse, produced some dried buffalo meat which he gave to the famishing trapper. but seeing the ravenous manner in which he began to eat, walker inquired how long it had been since he had eaten anything. "five days since i had a bite." "then, my man, you can't have any more just now," said walker, seizing the meat in alarm lest meek should kill himself. "it was hard to see that meat packed away again," says meek in relating his sufferings, "i told walker that if my gun had a hammer i'd shoot and eat him. but he talked very kindly, and helped me on my horse, and we all went on to the fort." at fort crockett were newell and his party, the remainder of farnham's party, a trading party under st. clair, who owned the fort, kit carson, and a number of meek's former associates, including craig and wilkins. most of these men, othello-like, had lost their occupation since the disbanding of the american fur company, and were much at a loss concerning the future. it was agreed between newell and meek to take what beaver they had to fort hall, to trade for goods, and return to fort crockett, where they would commence business on their own account with the indians. accordingly they set out, with one other man belonging to farnham's former adherents. they traveled to henry's fork, to black fork, where fort bridger now is, to bear river, to soda springs, and finally to fort hall, suffering much from cold, and finding very little to eat by the way. at fort hall, which was still in charge of courtenay walker, meek and newell remained a week, when, having purchased their goods and horses to pack them, they once more set out on the long, cold journey to fort crockett. they had fifteen horses to take care of and only one assistant, a snake indian called al. the return proved an arduous and difficult undertaking. the cold was very severe; they had not been able to lay in a sufficient stock of provisions at fort hall, and game there was none, on the route. by the time they arrived at ham's fork the only atom of food they had left was a small piece of bacon which they had been carefully saving to eat with any poor meat they might chance to find. the next morning after camping on ham's fork was stormy and cold, the snow filling the air; yet snake al, with a promptitude by no means characteristic of him, rose early and went out to look after the horses. "by that same token," said meek to newell, "al has eaten the bacon." and so it proved, on investigation. al's uneasy conscience having acted as a goad to stir him up to begin his duties in season. on finding his conjecture confirmed, meek declared his intention, should no game be found before next day night, of killing and eating al, to get back the stolen bacon. but providence interfered to save al's bacon. on the following afternoon the little party fell in with another still smaller but better supplied party of travelers, comprising a frenchman and his wife. these had plenty of fat antelope meat, which they freely parted with to the needy ones, whom also they accompanied to fort crockett. it was now christmas; and the festivities which took place at the fort were attended with a good deal of rum drinking, in which meek, according to his custom, joined, and as a considerable portion of their stock in trade consisted of this article, it may fairly be presumed that the home consumption of these two "lone traders" amounted to the larger half of what they had with so much trouble transported from fort hall. in fact, "times were bad enough" among the men so suddenly thrown upon their own resources among the mountains, at a time when that little creature, which had made mountain life tolerable, or possible, was fast being exterminated. to make matters more serious, some of the worst of the now unemployed trappers had taken to a life of thieving and mischief which made enemies of the friendly indians, and was likely to prevent the better disposed from enjoying security among any of the tribes. a party of these renegades, under a man named thompson, went over to snake river to steal horses from the nez perces. not succeeding in this, they robbed the snake indians of about forty animals, and ran them off to the uintee, the indians following and complaining to the whites at fort crockett that their people had been robbed by white trappers, and demanding restitution. according to indian law, when one of a tribe offends, the whole tribe is responsible. therefore if whites stole their horses they might take vengeance on any whites they met, unless the property was restored. in compliance with this well understood requisition of indian law, a party was made up at fort crockett to go and retake the horses, and restore them to their rightful owners. this party consisted of meek, craig, newell, carson, and twenty-five others, under the command of jo walker. the horses were found on an island in green river, the robbers having domiciled themselves in an old fort at the mouth of the uintee. in order to avoid having a fight with the renegades, whose white blood the trappers were not anxious to spill, walker made an effort to get the horses off the island undiscovered. but while horses and men were crossing the river on the ice, the ice sinking with them until the water was knee-deep, the robbers discovered the escape of their booty, and charging on the trappers tried to recover the horses. in this effort they were not successful; while walker made a masterly flank movement and getting in thompson's rear, ran the horses into the fort, where he stationed his men, and succeeded in keeping the robbers on the outside. thompson then commenced giving the horses away to a village of utes in the neighborhood of the fort, on condition that they should assist in retaking them. on his side, walker threatened the utes with dire vengeance if they dared interfere. the utes who had a wholesome fear not only of the trappers, but of their foes the snakes, declined to enter into the quarrel. after a day of strategy, and of threats alternated with arguments, strengthened by a warlike display, the trappers marched out of the fort before the faces of the discomfitted thieves, taking their booty with them, which was duly restored to the snakes on their return to fort crockett, and peace secured once more with that people. still times continued bad. the men not knowing what else to do, went out in small parties in all directions seeking adventures, which generally were not far to find. on one of these excursions meek went with a party down the canyon of green river, on the ice. for nearly a hundred miles they traveled down this awful canyon without finding but one place where they could have come out; and left it at last at the mouth of the uintee. this passed the time until march. then the company of newell and meek was joined by antoine rubideau, who had brought goods from santa fe to trade with the indians. setting out in company, they traded along up green river to the mouth of ham's fork, and camped. the snow was still deep in the mountains, and the trappers found great sport in running antelope. on one occasion a large herd, numbering several hundreds, were run on to the ice, on green river, where they were crowded into an air hole, and large numbers slaughtered only for the cruel sport which they afforded. but killing antelope needlessly was not by any means the worst of amusements practiced in rubideau's camp. that foolish trader occupied himself so often and so long in playing _hand_, (an indian game,) that before he parted with his new associates he had gambled away his goods, his horses, and even his wife; so that he returned to santa fe much poorer than nothing--since he was in debt. on the departure of rubideau, meek went to fort hall, and remained in that neighborhood, trapping and trading for the hudson's bay company, until about the last of june, when he started for the old rendezvous places of the american companies, hoping to find some divisions of them at least, on the familiar camping ground. but his journey was in vain. neither on green river or wind river, where for ten years he had been accustomed to meet the leaders and their men, his old comrades in danger, did he find a wandering brigade even. the glory of the american companies was departed, and he found himself solitary among his long familiar haunts. with many melancholy reflections, the man of twenty-eight years of age recalled how, a mere boy, he had fallen half unawares into the kind of life he had ever since led amongst the mountains, with only other men equally the victims of circumstance, and the degraded savages, for his companions. the best that could be made of it, such life had been and must be constantly deteriorating to the minds and souls of himself and his associates. away from all laws, and refined habits of living; away from the society of religious, modest, and accomplished women; always surrounded by savage scenes, and forced to cultivate a taste for barbarous things--what had this life made of him? what was he to do with himself in the future? sick of trapping and hunting, with brief intervals of carousing, he felt himself to be. and then, even if he were not, the trade was no longer profitable enough to support him. what could he do? where could he go? he remembered his talk with mrs. whitman, that fair, tall, courteous, and dignified lady who had stirred in him longings to return to the civilized life of his native state. but he felt unfit for the society of such as she. would he ever, could he ever attain to it now? he had promised her he might go over into oregon and settle down. but could he settle down? should he not starve at trying to do what other men, mechanics and farmers, do? and as to learning, he had none of it; there was no hope then of "living by his wits," as some men did--missionaries and artists and school teachers, some of whom he had met at the rendezvous. heigho! to be checkmated in life at twenty-eight, that would never do. at fort hall, on his return, he met two more missionaries and their wives going to oregon, but these four did not affect him pleasantly; he had no mind to go with them. instead, he set out on what proved to be his last trapping expedition, with a frenchman, named mattileau. they visited the old trapping grounds on pierre's fork, lewis' lake, jackson's river, jackson's hole, lewis river and salt river: but beaver were scarce; and it was with a feeling of relief that, on returning by way of bear river, meek heard from a frenchman whom he met there, that he was wanted at fort hall, by his friend newell, who had something to propose to him. [illustration: castle rock.] chapter xxi. . when meek arrived at fort hall, where newell was awaiting him, he found that the latter had there the two wagons which dr. whitman had left at the points on the journey where further transportation by their means had been pronounced impossible. the doctor's idea of finding a passable wagon-road over the lava plains and the heavily timbered mountains lying between fort hall and the columbia river, seemed to newell not so wild a one as it was generally pronounced to be in the mountains. at all events, he was prepared to undertake the journey. the wagons were put in traveling order, and horses and mules purchased for the expedition. "come," said newell to meek, "we are done with this life in the mountains--done with wading in beaver-dams, and freezing or starving alternately--done with indian trading and indian fighting. the fur trade is dead in the rocky mountains, and it is no place for us now, if ever it was. we are young yet, and have life before us. we cannot waste it here; we cannot or will not return to the states. let us go down to the wallamet and take farms. there is already quite a settlement there made by the methodist mission and the hudson's bay company's retired servants. "i have had some talk with the americans who have gone down there, and the talk is that the country is going to be settled up by our people, and that the hudson's bay company are not going to rule this country much longer. what do you say, meek? shall we turn american settlers?" "i'll go where you do, newell. what suits you suits me." "i thought you'd say so, and that's why i sent for you, meek. in my way of thinking, a white man is a little better than a canadian frenchman. i'll be ---- if i'll hang 'round a post of the hudson's bay company. so you'll go?" "i reckon i will! what have you got for me to do? _i_ haven't got anything to begin with but a wife and baby!" "well, you can drive one of the wagons, and take your family and traps along. nicholas will drive the other, and i'll play leader, and look after the train. craig will go also, so we shall be quite a party, with what strays we shall be sure to pick up." thus it was settled. thus oregon began to receive her first real emigrants, who were neither fur-traders nor missionaries, but true frontiersmen--border-men. the training which the mountain-men had received in the service of the fur companies admirably fitted them to be, what afterwards they became, a valuable and indispensable element in the society of that country in whose peculiar history they played an important part. but we must not anticipate their acts before we have witnessed their gradual transformation from lawless rangers of the wilderness, to law-abiding and even law-making and law-executing citizens of an isolated territory. in order to understand the condition of things in the wallamet valley, or lower columbia country, it will be necessary to revert to the earliest history of that territory, as sketched in the first chapter of this book. a history of the fur companies is a history of oregon up to the year , so far as the occupation of the country was concerned. but its political history was begun long before--from the time (may th, ) when the captain of a new england coasting and fur-trading vessel entered the great "river of the west," which nations had been looking for a hundred years. at the very time when the inquisitive yankee was heading his little vessel through the white line of breakers at the mouth of the long-sought river, a british exploring expedition was scanning the shore between it and the straits of fuca, having wisely declared its scientific opinion that there was no such river on that coast. vancouver, the chief of that expedition, so assured the yankee trader, whose views did not agree with his own: and, yankee-like, the trader turned back to satisfy himself. a bold and lucky man was captain gray of the ship _columbia_. no explorer he--only an adventurous and, withal, a prudent trader, with an eye to the main chance; emulous, too, perhaps, of a little glory! it is impossible to conceive how he could have done this thing calmly. we think his stout heart must have shivered somewhat, both with anticipation and dread, as he ran for the "opening," and plunged into the frightful tumult--straight through the proper channel, thank god! and sailed out on to the bosom of that beautiful bay, twenty-five miles by six, which the great river forms at its mouth. we trust the morning was fine: for then captain gray must have beheld a sight which a discoverer should remember for a lifetime. this magnificent bay, surrounded by lofty hills, clad thick with noble forests of fir, and fretted along its margin with spurs of the highlands, forming other smaller bays and coves, into which ran streams whose valleys were hidden among the hills. from beyond the farthest point, whose dark ridge jutted across this inland sea, flowed down the deep, broad river, whose course and origin was still a magnificent mystery, but which indicated by its volume that it drained a mighty region of probable great fertility and natural wealth. perhaps captain gray did not fully realize the importance of his discovery. if the day was fine, with a blue sky, and the purple shadows lying in among the hills, with smooth water before him and the foamy breakers behind--_if_ he felt what his discovery was, in point of importance, to the world, he was a proud and happy man, and enjoyed the reward of his daring. the only testimony on that head is the simple entry on his log-book, telling us that he had named the river "_columbia's river_,"--with an apostrophe, that tiny point intimating much. this was one ground of the american claim, though vancouver, after gray had reported his success to him, sent a lieutenant to explore the river, and then claimed the discovery for england! the next claim of the united states upon the oregon territory was by virtue of the florida treaty and the louisiana purchase. these, and the general one of natural boundaries, england contested also. hence the treaty of joint occupancy for a term of ten years, renewable, unless one of the parties to it gave a twelve-month's notice of intention to withdraw. meantime this question of territorial claims hung over the national head like the sword suspended by a hair, which statesmen delight in referring to. we did not dare to say oregon was ours, because we were afraid england would make war on us; and england did not dare say oregon was hers, for the same reason. therefore "joint-occupancy" was the polite word with which statesmen glossed over the fact that great britain actually possessed the country through the monopoly of the hudson's bay company. that company had a good thing so long as the government of great britain prevented any outbreak, by simply renewing the treaty every ten years. their manner of doing business was such as to prevent any less powerful corporation from interfering with them, while individual enterprise was sure to be crushed at the start. but "man proposes and god disposes." in , the methodist episcopal board of missions sent out four missionaries to labor among the indians. these were two preachers, the rev. messrs. jason and daniel lee, and two lay members, cyrus shepard and p.l. edwards. these gentlemen were liberally furnished with all the necessaries and comforts of life by the board, in addition to which they received the kindest attentions and consideration from the officers of the hudson's bay company at vancouver. their vessel, the _may dacre_, captain lambert, had arrived safely in the river with the mission goods. the gentlemen at vancouver encouraged their enterprise, and advised them to settle in the wallamet valley, the most fertile tract of country west of the rocky mountains. being missionaries, nothing was to be feared from them in the way of trade. the wallamet valley was a good country for the mission--at the same time it was south of the columbia river. this latter consideration was not an unimportant one with the hudson's bay company, it being understood among those in the confidence of the british government, that in case the oregon territory had to be divided with the united states, the columbia river would probably be made the northern boundary of the american possessions. there was nothing in the character of the christian missionary's labor which the hudson's bay company could possibly object to without a palpable violation of the convention of . therefore, although the methodist mission in the wallamet valley received a large accession to its numbers in , they were as kindly welcomed as had been those of ; and also those presbyterian missionaries of , who had settled in the "upper country." three points, however, the hudson's bay company insisted upon, so far as, under the treaty, they could; the americans must not trade with the indians, but confine themselves to agricultural pursuits and missionary labor, and keep on the south side of the columbia. not an immigrant entered oregon in that day who did not proceed at once to vancouver: nor was there one who did not meet with the most liberal and hospitable treatment. neither was this hospitality a trifling benefit; to the weary traveler just arrived from a long and most fatiguing journey, it was extremely welcome and refreshing. at vancouver was the only society, and the only luxurious living to be enjoyed on the whole northwest coast. at the head of the first was dr. john mclaughlin, already mentioned as the chief factor, and deputy governor of the hudson's bay company in oregon, and all the northwest. he was of scotch origin, and canadian birth, a gentleman bred, with a character of the highest integrity, to which were united justice and humanity. his position as head of the hudson's bay company's affairs, was no enviable one during that period of oregon history which followed the advent of americans in the wallamet valley. himself a british subject, and a representative of that powerful corporation which bent the british government to its will, he was bound to execute its commands when they did not conflict too strongly with his consciousness of right and justice. as has been stated, the methodist mission settlement was reinforced in , by the arrival of about twenty persons, among whom were several ladies, and a few children. these, like those preceding them, were first entertained at fort vancouver before proceeding to the mission, which was between fifty and sixty miles up the wallamet, in the heart of that delightful valley. these persons came by a sailing vessel around cape horn, bringing with them supplies for the mission. in the two following years there were about a dozen missionary arrivals overland, all of whom tarried a short time at the american company's rendezvous, as before related. these were some of them designed for the upper country, but most of them soon settled in the wallamet valley. during these years, between and , there had drifted into the valley various persons from california, the rocky mountains, and from the vessels which sometimes appeared in the columbia; until at the time when newell and meek resolved to quit the mountains, the american settlers numbered nearly one hundred, men, women, and children. of these, about thirty belonged to the missions; the remainder were mountain-men, sailors, and adventurers. the mountain-men, most of them, had native wives. besides the americans there were sixty canadian frenchmen, who had been retired upon farms by the hudson's bay company; and who would probably have occupied these farms so long as the h.b. company should have continued to do business in oregon. chapter xxii. when it was settled that newell and meek were to go to the wallamet, they lost no time in dallying, but packed the wagons with whatever they possessed in the way of worldly goods, topped them with their nez perce wives and half-breed children, and started for walla-walla, accompanied by craig, another mountain-man, and either followed or accompanied by several others. meek drove a five-in-hand team of four horses and one mule. nicholas drove the other team of four horses, and newell, who owned the train, was mounted as leader. the journey was no easy one, extending as it did over immense plains of lava, round impassable canyons, over rapid unbridged rivers, and over mountains hitherto believed to be only passable for pack trains. the honor which has heretofore been accorded to the presbyterian missionaries solely, of opening a wagon road from the rocky mountains to the columbia river, should in justice be divided with these two mountaineers, who accomplished the most difficult part of this difficult journey. arrived at fort boise, a post of the hudson's bay company, the little caravan stopped for a few days to rest and recruit their animals. with the usual courtesy of that company, mr. payette, the trader in charge, offered newell quarters in the fort, as leader of his party. to meek and craig who were encamped outside, he sent a piece of sturgeon with his compliments, which our incipient oregonians sent back again with _their_ compliments. no hudson's bay distinctions of rank for them! no, indeed! the moment that an american commenced to think of himself as a settler on the most remote corner of american soil, that moment, as if by instinct, he began to defend and support his republicanism. after a few days' rest, the party went on, encountering, as might be expected, much difficulty and toil, but arriving safely after a reasonable time at the columbia river, at the junction of the umatilla. here the wagons and stock were crossed over, and the party proceeded directly to dr. whitman's mission at waiilatpu. dr. whitman gave them a friendly reception; killing for them, if not the fatted calf, the fattest hog he had; telling meek at the same time that "fat pork was good for preachers," referring to meek's missionary labors among the nez perces. during the three years since the commencement of the mission at waiilatpu considerable advancement had been made in the progress of civilization among the cayuses. quite a number of indian children were domesticated with mrs. whitman, who were rapidly acquiring a knowledge of housekeeping, sewing, reading, and writing, and farm labor. with mrs. whitman, for whom meek still entertained great admiration and respect, he resolved to leave his little girl, helen mar; the fruit of his connexion with the nez perce woman who persisted in abandoning him in the mountains, as already related. having thus made provision for the proper instruction of his daughter, and conferred with the doctor on the condition of the american settlers in oregon--the doctor being an ardent american--meek and his associates started once more for the wallamet. at walla-walla newell decided to leave the wagons, the weather having become so rainy and disagreeable as to make it doubtful about getting them over the cascade mountains that fall. accordingly the goods were transferred to pack-horses for the remainder of the journey. in the following year, however, one of the wagons was brought down by newell, and taken to the plains on the tualatin river, being the first vehicle of the kind in the wallamet valley. on arriving at the dalles of the columbia, our mountain men found that a mission had been established at that place for the conversion of those inconscionable thieves, the wish-ram indians, renowned in indian history for their acquisitiveness. this mission was under the charge of daniel lee and a mr. perkins, and was an offshoot of the methodist mission in the wallamet valley. these gentlemen having found the benighted condition of the indians to exceed their powers of enlightment in any ordinary way, were having recourse to extraordinary efforts, and were carrying on what is commonly termed a _revival_; though what piety there was in the hearts of these savages to be revived, it would be difficult to determine. however, they doubtless hoped so to wrestle with god themselves, as to compel a blessing upon their labors. the indians indeed were not averse to prayer. they could pray willingly and sincerely enough when they could hope for a speedy and actual material answer to their prayers. and it was for that, and that only, that they importuned the christian's god. finding that their prayers were not answered according to their desire, it at length became difficult to persuade them to pray at all. sometimes, it is true, they succeeded in deluding the missionaries with the belief that they were really converted, for a time. one of these most hopeful converts at the dalles mission, being in want of a shirt and capote, volunteered to "pray for a whole year," if mr. lee would furnish him with these truly desirable articles. it is no wonder that with such hopeless material to work upon the dalles missionaries withdrew from them a portion of their zeal, and bestowed it, where it was quite as much needed, upon any "stray mountain-man" who chanced to be entertained "within their gates." newell's party, among others, received the well-meant, but not always well-received or appreciated attentions of these gentlemen. the american mountaineer was not likely to be suddenly surprised into praying in earnest; and he generally had too much real reverence to be found making a jest in the form of a mocking-prayer. not so scrupulous, however, was jandreau, a lively french canadian, who was traveling in company with the americans. on being repeatedly importuned to pray, with that tireless zeal which distinguishes the methodist preacher above all others, jandreau appeared suddenly to be smitten with a consciousness of his guilt, and kneeling in the midst of the 'meeting,' began with clasped hands and upturned eyes to pour forth a perfect torrent of words. with wonderful dramatic power he appeared to confess, to supplicate, to agonize, in idiomatic french. his tears and ejaculations touched the hearts of the missionaries, and filled them with gladness. they too ejaculated and wept, with frequently uttered "amens" and "hallelujahs," until the scene became highly dramatic and exciting. in the midst of this grand tableau, when the enthusiasm was at its height, jandreau suddenly ceased and rose to his feet, while an irrepressible outburst of laughter from his associates aroused the astonished missionaries to a partial comprehension of the fact that they had been made the subjects of a practical joke, though they never knew to exactly how great an extent. the mischievous frenchman had only recited with truly artistic power, and with such variations as the situation suggested, one of the most wonderful and effective tales from the _arabian nights entertainment_, with which he was wont to delight and amuse his comrades beside the winter camp-fire! but jandreau was called to account when he arrived at vancouver. dr. mclaughlin had heard the story from some of the party, and resolved to punish the man's irreverence, at the same time that he gave himself a bit of amusement. sending for the rev. father blanchet, who was then resident at vancouver, he informed him of the circumstance, and together they arranged jandreau's punishment. he was ordered to appear in their united presence, and make a true statement of the affair. jandreau confessed that he had done what he was accused of doing--made a mock of prayer, and told a tale instead of offering a supplication. he was then ordered by the rev. father to rehearse the scene exactly as it occurred, in order that he might judge of the amount of his guilt, and apportion him his punishment. trembling and abashed, poor jandreau fell upon his knees and began the recital with much trepidation. but as he proceeded he warmed with the subject, his dramatic instinct asserted itself, tears streamed, and voice and eyes supplicated, until this second representation threatened to outdo the first. with outward gravity and inward mirth his two solemn judges listened to the close, and when jandreau rose quite exhausted from his knees, father blanchet hastily dismissed him with an admonition and a light penance. as the door of dr. mclaughlin's office closed behind him, not only the doctor, but father blanchet indulged in a burst of long restrained laughter at the comical absurdities of this impious frenchman. to return to our immigrants. on leaving the dalles they proceeded on down the south side of the river as far as practicable, or opposite to the wind mountain. at this point the indians assisted to cross them over to the north side, when they again made their way along the river as far as _tea prairie_ above vancouver. the weather was execrable, with a pouring rain, and sky of dismal gray; december being already far advanced. our travelers were not in the best of humors: indeed a saint-like amiability is seldom found in conjunction with rain, mud, fatigue, and an empty stomach. some ill-natured suspicions were uttered to the effect that the indians who were assisting to cross the party at this point, had stolen some ropes that were missing. upon this dishonorable insinuation the indian heart was fired, and a fight became imminent. this undesirable climax to emigrant woes was however averted by an attack upon the indignant natives with firebrands, when they prudently retired, leaving the travelers to pursue their way in peace. it was on sunday that the weary, dirty, hungry little procession arrived at a place on the wallamet river where the present town of milwaukie is situated, and found here two missionaries, the rev. messrs. waller and beers, who were preaching to the indians. meek immediately applied to mr. waller for some provisions, and received for answer that it was "sunday." mr. waller, however, on being assured that it was no more agreeable starving on sunday than a week-day, finally allowed the immigrants to have a peck of small potatoes. but as a party of several persons could not long subsist on so short allowance, and as there did not seem to be any encouragement to expect more from the missionaries, there was no course left to be pursued but to make an appeal to fort vancouver. to fort vancouver then, newell went the next day, and returned on the following one with some dried salmon, tea, sugar, and sea-bread. it was not quite what the mountain-men could have wished, this dependence on the hudson's bay company for food, and did not quite agree with what they had said when their hearts were big in the mountains. being patriotic on a full stomach is easy compared to being the same thing on an empty one; a truth which became more and more apparent as the winter progressed, and the new settlers found that if they would eat they must ask food of some person or persons outside of the methodist mission. and outside of that there was in all the country only the hudson's bay company, and a few mountain-men like themselves, who had brought nothing into the country, and could get nothing out of it at present. there was but short time in which to consider what was to be done. newell and meek went to wallamet falls, the day after newell's return from vancouver, and there met an old comrade, doughty, who was looking for a place to locate. the three made their camp together on the west side of the river, on a hill overlooking the falls. while in camp they were joined by two other rocky mountain men, wilkins and ebbarts, who were also looking for a place to settle in. there were now six of the rocky mountain men together; and they resolved to push out into the plains to the west of them, and see what could be done in the matter of selecting homes. as for our hero, we fear we cannot say much of him here which would serve to render him heroic in criticising yankee eyes. he was a mountain-man, and _that only_. he had neither book learning, nor a trade, nor any knowledge of the simplest affairs appertaining to the ordinary ways of getting a living. he had only his strong hands, and a heart naturally stout and light. his friend newell had the advantage of him in several particulars. he had rather more book-knowledge, more business experience, and also more means. with these advantages he became a sort of "booshway" among his old comrades, who consented to follow his lead in the important movement about to be made, and settle in the tualatin plains should he decide to do so. accordingly camp was raised, and the party proceeded to the plains, where they arrived on christmas, and went into camp again. the hardships of mountain life were light compared to the hardships of this winter. for in the mountains, when the individual's resources were exhausted, there was always the company to go to, which was practically inexhaustible. should it be necessary, the company was always willing to become the creditor of a good mountain-man. and the debtor gave himself no uneasiness, because he knew that if he lived he could discharge his indebtedness. but everything was different now. there was no way of paying debts, even if there had been a company willing to give them credit, which there was not, at least among americans. hard times they had seen in the mountains; harder times they were likely to see in the valley; indeed were already experiencing. instead of fat buffalo meat, antelope, and mountain mutton, which made the plenty of a camp on powder river, our carniverous hunters were reduced to eating daily a little boiled wheat. in this extremity, meek went on an expedition of discovery across the highlands that border the lower wallamet, and found on wappatoo (now sauvis) island, a mr. and mrs. baldra living, who were in the service of the hudson's bay company, and drew rations from them. with great kindness they divided the provisions on hand, furnishing him with dried salmon and sea-bread, to which he added ducks and swans procured from the indians. poor and scanty as was the supply thus obtained, it was, after boiled wheat, comparative luxury while it lasted. . the winter proved a very disagreeable one. considerable snow fell early, and went off with heavy rains, flooding the whole country. the little camp on the tualatin plains had no defence from the weather better than indian lodges, and one small cabin built by doughty on a former visit to the plains; for doughty had been one of the first of the mountain-men to come to the wallamet on the breaking up of the fur companies. indian lodges, or no lodges at all, were what the men were used to; but in the dryer climate of the rocky mountains it had not seemed such a miserable life, as it now did, where, for months together, the ground was saturated with rain, while the air was constantly charged with vapor. as for going anywhere, or doing anything, either were equally impossible. no roads, the streams all swollen and out of banks, the rains incessant, there was nothing for them but to remain in camp and wait for the return of spring. when at last the rainy season was over, and the sun shining once more, most of the mountain-men in the tualatin plains camp took land-claims and set to work improving them. of those who began farming that spring, were newell, doughty, wilkins, and walker. these obtained seed-wheat from the hudson's bay company, also such farming implements as they must have, and even oxen to draw the plow through the strong prairie sod. the wheat was to be returned to the company--the cattle also; and the farming implements paid for whenever the debtor became able. this was certainly liberal conduct on the part of a company generally understood to be opposed to american settlement. chapter xxiii. . when spring opened, meek assisted newell in breaking the ground for wheat. this done, it became necessary to look out for some immediately paying employment. but paying occupations were hard to find in that new country. at last, like everybody else, meek found himself, if not "hanging about," at least frequently visiting vancouver. poor as he was, and unpromising as looked the future, he was the same light-hearted, reckless, and fearless joe meek that he had been in the mountains: as jaunty and jolly a ragged mountaineer as ever was seen at the fort. especially he delighted in recounting his indian fights, because the company, and dr. mclaughlin in particular, disapproved the american company's conduct with the indians. when the doctor chanced to overhear meek's stories, as he sometimes did, he would say "mr. joe, mr. joe,--(a habit the doctor had of speaking rapidly, and repeating his words,)--mr. joe, mr. joe, you must leave off killing indians, and go to work." "i can't work," meek would answer in his impressively slow and smooth utterance, at the same time giving his shoulders a slight shrug, and looking the doctor pleasantly in the face. during the summer, however, the united states exploring squadron, under commodore wilkes, entered the columbia river, and proceeded to explore the country in several directions; and it was now that meek found an employment suited to him; being engaged by wilkes as pilot and servant while on his several tours through the country. on the arrival of three vessels of the squadron at vancouver, and the first ceremonious visit of dr. mclaughlin and his associates to commodore wilkes on board, there was considerable display, the men in the yards, saluting, and all the honors due to the representative of a friendly foreign power. after dinner, while the guests were walking on deck engaged in conversation, the talk turned upon the loss of the _peacock_, one of the vessels belonging to the u.s. squadron, which was wrecked on the bar at the mouth of the columbia. the english gentlemen were polite enough to be expressing their regrets at the loss to the united states, when meek, who had picked up a little history in spite of his life spent in the mountains, laughingly interrupted with: "no loss at all, gentlemen. uncle sam can get another peacock the way he got that one." wilkes, who probably regretted the allusion, as not being consonant with the spirit of hospitality, passed over the interruption in silence. but when the gentlemen from vancouver had taken leave he turned to meek with a meaning twinkle in his eyes: "meek," said he, "go down to my cabin and you'll find there something good to eat, and some first-rate brandy." of course meek went. while wilkes was exploring in the cowelitz valley, with meek and a hudson's bay man named forrest, as guides, he one day laid down in his tent to sleep, leaving his chronometer watch lying on the camp-table beside him. forrest, happening to observe that it did not agree with his own, which he believed to be correct, very kindly, as he supposed, regulated it to agree with his. on awakening and taking up his watch, a puzzled expression came over wilkes' face for a moment, as he discovered the change in the time; then one of anger and disappointment, as what had occurred flashed over his mind; followed by some rather strong expressions of indignation. forrest was penitent when he perceived the mischief done by his meddling, but that would not restore the chronometer to the true time: and this accident proved a serious annoyance and hindrance during the remainder of the expedition. after exploring the cowelitz valley, wilkes dispatched a party under lieutenant emmons, to proceed up the wallamet valley, thence south along the old trail of the hudson's bay company, to california. meek was employed to pilot this party, which had reached the head of the valley, when it became necessary to send for some papers in the possession of the commodore; and he returned to astoria upon this duty. on joining emmons again he found that some of his men had become disaffected toward him; especially jandreau, the same frenchman who prayed so dramatically at the dalles. jandreau confided to meek that he hated emmons, and intended to kill him. the next morning when lieut. e. was examining the arms of the party, he fired off jandreau's gun, which being purposely overcharged, flew back and inflicted some injuries upon the lieutenant. "what do you mean by loading a gun like that?" inquired emmons, in a rage. "i meant it to kill two injuns;--one before, and one behind;" answered jandreau. as might be conjectured jandreau was made to fire his own gun after that. the expedition had not proceeded much farther when it again became necessary to send an express to vancouver, and meek was ordered upon this duty. here he found that wilkes had purchased a small vessel which he named the _oregon_, with which he was about to leave the country. as there was no further use for his services our quondam trapper was again thrown out of employment. in this exigency, finding it necessary to make some provision for the winter, he became a gleaner of wheat in the fields of his more provident neighbors, by which means a sufficient supply was secured to keep himself and his small family in food until another spring. when winter set in, meek paid a visit to the new mission. he had been there once before, in the spring, to buy an axe. think, o reader, of traveling fifty or more miles, on horseback, or in a small boat, to procure so simple and necessary an article of civilized life as an axe! but none of the every-day conveniencies of living grow spontaneously in the wilderness--more's the pity:--else life in the wilderness would be thought more delightful far than life in the most luxurious of cities; inasmuch as nature is more satisfying than art. meek's errand to the mission on this occasion was to find whether he could get a cow, and credit at the same time: for the prospect of living for another winter on boiled wheat was not a cheerful one. he had not succeeded, and was returning, when at champoeg he met a mr. whitcom, superintendent of the mission farm. a conversation took place wherein meek's desire for a cow became known. the missionaries never lost an opportunity of proposing prayers, and mr. whitcom thought this a good one. after showing much interest in the condition of meek's soul, it was proposed that he should pray. "_i_ can't pray: that's your business, not mine," said meek pleasantly. "it is every man's business to pray for himself," answered whitcom. "very well; some other time will do for that. what i want now is a cow." "how can you expect to get what you want, if you wont ask for it?" inquired whitcom. "i reckon i have asked you; and i don't see nary cow yet." "you must ask god, my friend: but in the first place you must pray to be forgiven for your sins." "i'll tell you what i'll do. if you will furnish the cow, i'll agree to pray for half an hour, right here on the spot." "down on your knees then." "you'll furnish the cow?" "yes," said whitcom, fairly cornered. down on his knees dropped the merry reprobate, and prayed out his half hour, with how much earnestness only himself and god knew. but the result was what he had come for, a cow; for whitcom was as good as his word, and sent him home rejoicing. and thus, with what he had earned from wilkes, his gleaned wheat, and his cow, he contrived to get through another winter. perhaps the most important personal event which distinguished this year in meek's history, was the celebration, according to the rites of the christian church, of his marriage with the nez perce woman who had already borne him two children, and who still lives, the mother of a family of seven. chapter xxiv. . by the opening of another spring, meek had so far overcome his distaste for farm labor as to put in a field of wheat for himself, with doughty, and to make some arrangements about his future subsistence. this done, he was ready, as usual, for anything in the way of adventure which might turn up. this was, however, a very quiet summer in the little colony. important events were brooding, but as yet results were not perceptible, except to the mind of a prophet. the hudson's bay company, conformably to british policy, were at work to turn the balance of power in oregon in favor of british occupation, and, unknown even to the colonists, the united states government was taking what measures it could to shift the balance in its own favor. very little was said about the subject of government claims among the colonists, but a feeling of suspense oppressed all parties. the work of putting in wheat and improving of farms had just begun to slacken a little, when there was an arrival in the columbia river of a vessel from boston--the _chenamus_, captain couch. the _chenamus_ brought a cargo of goods, which were placed in store at wallamet falls, to be sold to the settlers, being the first successful attempt at trade ever made in oregon, outside of the hudson's bay and methodist mission stores. when the fourth of july came, the _chenamus_ was lying in the wallamet, below the falls, near where the present city of portland stands. meek, who was always first to be at any spot where noise, bustle, or excitement might be anticipated, and whose fine humor and fund of anecdote made him always welcome, had borrowed a boat from capt. couch's clerk, at the falls, and gone down to the vessel early in the morning, before the salute for the glorious fourth was fired. there he remained all day, enjoying a patriotic swagger, and an occasional glass of something good to drink. other visitors came aboard during the day, which was duly celebrated to the satisfaction of all. towards evening, a party from the mission, wishing to return to the falls, took possession of meek's borrowed boat to go off with. now was a good opportunity to show the value of free institutions. meek, like other mountain-men, felt the distance which the missionaries placed between him and themselves, on the score of their moral and social superiority, and resented the freedom with which they appropriated what he had with some trouble secured to himself. intercepting the party when more than half of them were seated in the boat, he informed them that they were trespassing upon a piece of property which for the present belonged to him, and for which he had a very urgent need. vexed by the delay, and by having to relinquish the boat to a man who, according to their view of the case, could not "read his title clear," to anything either on earth or in heaven, the missionaries expostulated somewhat warmly, but meek insisted, and so compelled them to wait for some better opportunity of leaving the ship. then loading the boat with what was much more to the purpose--a good supply of provisions, meek proceeded to drink the captain's health in a very ostentatious manner, and take his leave. in the meantime, dr. marcus whitman, of the waiilatpu mission, in the upper country, was so fearful of the intentions of the british government that he set out for washington late in the autumn of , to put the secretary of state on his guard concerning the boundary question, and to pray that it might be settled conformably with the wishes of the americans in oregon. there was one feature, however, of this otherwise rather entertaining race for possession, which was becoming quite alarming. in all this strife about claiming the country, the indian claim had not been considered. it has been already intimated that the attempt to civilize or christianize the indians of western oregon was practically an entire failure. but they were not naturally of a warlike disposition, and had been so long under the control of the hudson's bay company that there was comparatively little to apprehend from them, even though they felt some discontent at the incoming immigration. but with the indians of the upper columbia it was different; especially so with the tribes among whom the presbyterian missionaries were settled--the walla-wallas, cayuses, and nez perces, three brave and powerful nations, much united by intermarriages. the impression which these people had first made on the missionaries was very favorable, their evident intelligence, inquisitiveness, and desire for religious teachings seeming to promise a good reward of missionary labor. dr. whitman and his associates had been diligent in their efforts to civilize and christianize them--to induce the men to leave off their migratory habits and learn agriculture, and the women to learn spinning, sewing, cooking, and all the most essential arts of domestic life. at the first, the novelty of these new pursuits engaged their interest, as it also excited their hope of gain. but the task of keeping them to their work with sufficient steadiness, was very great. they required, like children, to be bribed with promises of more or less immediate reward of their exertions, nor would they relinquish the fulfilment of a promise, even though they had failed to perform the conditions on which the promise became binding. by-and-by they made the discovery that neither the missionaries could, nor the white man's god did, confer upon them what they desired--the enjoyment of all the blessings of the white men--and that if they wished to enjoy these blessings, they must labor to obtain them. this discovery was very discouraging, inasmuch as the indian nature is decidedly averse to steady labor, and they could perceive that very little was to be expected from any progress which could be achieved in one generation. as for the christian faith, they understood about as much of its true spirit as savages, with the law of blood written in their hearts, could be expected to understand. they looked for nothing more nor less than the literal fulfilment of the bible promises--nothing less would content them; and as to the forms of their new religion, they liked them well enough--liked singing and praying, and certain orderly observances, the chiefs leading in these as in other matters. so much interest did they discover at first, that their teachers were deceived as to the actual extent of the good they were doing. as time went on, however, there began to be cause for mutual dissatisfaction. the indians became aware that no matter how many concessions their teachers made to them, they were still the inferiors of the whites, and that they must ever remain so. but the thought which produced the deepest chagrin was, that they had got these white people settled amongst them by their own invitation and aid, and that now it was evident they were not to be benefited as had been hoped, as the whites were turning their attention to benefiting themselves. as early as , mr. smith, an associate of mr. spalding in the country of the nez perces, was forbidden by the high chief of the nez perces to cultivate the ground. he had been permitted to build, but was assured that if he broke the soil for the purpose of farming it, the ground so broken should serve to bury him in. still smith went on in the spring to prepare for ploughing, and the chief seeing him ready to begin, inquired if he recollected that he had been forbidden. yet persisting in his undertaking, several of the indians came to him and taking him by the shoulder asked him again "if he did not know that the hole he should make in the earth would be made to serve for his grave." upon which third warning smith left off, and quitted the country. other missionaries also left for the wallamet valley. in there were three mission stations in the upper country; that of dr. whitman at waiilatpu on the walla-walla river, that of mr. spalding on the clearwater river, called lapwai, and another on the spokane river, called cimakain. these missions were from one hundred and twenty to three hundred miles distant from each other, and numbered altogether only about one dozen whites of both sexes. at each of these stations there was a small body of land under cultivation, a few cattle and hogs, a flouring and saw mill, and blacksmith shop, and such improvements as the needs of the mission demanded. the indians also cultivated, under the direction of their teachers, some little patches of ground, generally but a small garden spot, and the fact that they did even so much was very creditable to those who labored to instruct them. there was no want of ardor or industry in the presbyterian mission; on the contrary they applied themselves conscientiously to the work they had undertaken. but this conscientious discharge of duty did not give them immunity from outrage. both mr. spalding and dr. whitman had been rudely handled by the indians, had been struck and spat upon, and had nose and ears pulled. even the delicate and devoted mrs. spalding had been grossly insulted. later the cayuses had assailed dr. whitman in his house with war-clubs, and broken down doors of communication between the private apartments and the public sitting room. explanations and promises generally followed these acts of outrage, yet it would seem that the missionaries should have been warned. taking advantage of dr. whitman's absence, the cayuses had frightened mrs. whitman from her home to the methodist mission at the dalles, by breaking into her bed-chamber at night, with an infamous design from which she barely escaped, and by subsequently burning down the mill and destroying a considerable quantity of grain. about the same time the nez perces at the lapwai mission were very insolent, and had threatened mr. spalding's life; all of which, one would say, was but a poor return for the care and instruction bestowed upon them during six years of patient effort on the part of their teachers. poor as it was, the indians did not see it in that light, but only thought of the danger which threatened them, in the possible loss of their country. chapter xxv. - . the plot thickened that winter, in the little drama being enacted west of the rocky mountains. the forests which clad the mountains and foot-hills in perpetual verdure, and the thickets which skirted the numerous streams flowing into the wallamet, all abounded in wild animals, whose depredations upon the domestic cattle, lately introduced into the country, were a serious drawback to their natural increase. not a settler, owning cattle or hogs, but had been robbed more or less frequently by the wolves, bears, and panthers, which prowled unhindered in the vicinity of their herds. this was a ground of common interest to all settlers of whatever allegiance. accordingly, a notice was issued that a meeting would be held at a certain time and place, to consider the best means of preventing the destruction of stock in the country, and all persons interested were invited to attend. this meeting was held on the d of february, , and was well attended by both classes of colonists. it served, however, only as a preliminary step to the regular "wolf association" meeting which took place a month later. at the meeting, on the th of march, there was a full attendance, and the utmost harmony prevailed, notwithstanding there was a well-defined suspicion in the minds of the canadians, that they were going to be called upon to furnish protection to something more than the cattle and hogs of the settlers. after the proper parliamentary forms, and the choosing of the necessary officers for the association, the meeting proceeded to fix the rate of bounty for each animal killed by any one out of the association, viz: $ . for a large wolf; $ . for a lynx; $ . for a bear; and $ . for a panther. the money to pay these bounties was to be raised by subscription, and handed over to the treasurer for disbursement; the currency being drafts on fort vancouver, the mission, and the milling company; besides wheat and other commodities. this business being arranged, the real object of the meeting was announced in this wise: "_resolved_,--that a committee be appointed to take into consideration the propriety of taking measures for the civil and military protection of this colony." a committee of twelve were then selected, and the meeting adjourned. but in that committee there was a most subtle mingling of all the elements--missionaries, mountain-men, and canadians--an attempt by an offer of the honors, to fuse into one all the several divisions of political sentiment in oregon. on the d day of may, , the committee appointed march th to "take into consideration the propriety of taking measures for the civil and military protection of the colony," met at champoeg, the canadian settlement, and presented to the people their ultimatum in favor of organizing a provisional government. on a motion being made that the report of the committee should be accepted, it was put to vote, and lost. all was now confusion, various expressions of disappointment or gratification being mingled in one tempest of sound. when the confusion had somewhat subsided, mr. g.w. lebreton made a motion that the meeting should divide; those who were in favor of an organization taking their positions on the right hand; and those opposed to it on the left, marching into file. the proposition carried; and joe meek, who, in all this historical reminiscence we have almost lost sight of--though he had not lost sight of events--stepped to the front, with a characteristic air of the free-born american in his gait and gestures:-- "who's for a divide! all in favor of the report, and an organization, follow me!"--then marched at the head of his column, which speedily fell into line, as did also the opposite party. on counting, fifty-two were found to be on the right hand side, and fifty on the left,--so evenly were the two parties balanced at that time. when the result was made known, once more meek's voice rang out-- "three cheers for our side!" it did not need a second invitation; but loud and long the shout went up for freedom; and loudest and longest were heard the voices of the american "mountain-men." thus the die was cast which made oregon ultimately a member of the federal union. the business of the meeting was concluded by the election of a supreme judge, with probate powers, a clerk of the court, a sheriff, four magistrates, four constables, a treasurer, a mayor, and a captain,--the two latter officers being instructed to form companies of mounted riflemen. in addition to these officers, a legislative committee was chosen, consisting of nine members, who were to report to the people at a public meeting to be held at champoeg on the th of july following. of the legislative committee, two were mountain-men, with whose names the reader is familiar--newell and doughty. among the other appointments, was meek, to the office of sheriff; a position for which his personal qualities of courage and good humor admirably fitted him in the then existing state of society. chapter xxvi. the immigration into oregon of the year , was the first since newell and meek, who had brought wagons through to the columbia river; and in all numbered nearly nine hundred men, women, and children. these immigrants were mostly from missouri and other border states. they had been assisted on their long and perilous journey by dr. whitman, whose knowledge of the route, and the requirements of the undertaking, made him an invaluable counselor, as he was an untiring friend of the immigrants. at the dalles of the columbia the wagons were abandoned; it being too late in the season, and the wants of the immigrants too pressing, to admit of an effort being made to cut out a wagon road through the heavy timber of the cascade mountains. already a trail had been made over them and around the base of mount hood, by which cattle could be driven from the dalles to the settlements on the wallamet; and by this route the cattle belonging to the train, amounting to thirteen hundred, were passed over into the valley. but for the people, especially the women and children, active and efficient help was demanded. there was something truly touching and pitiable in the appearance of these hundreds of worn-out, ragged, sun-burnt, dusty, emaciated, yet indomitable pioneers, who, after a journey of nearly two thousand miles, and of several months duration, over fertile plains, barren deserts, and rugged mountains, stood at last beside the grand and beautiful river of their hopes, exhausted by the toils of their pilgrimage, dejected and yet rejoicing. [illustration: _wrecked in the rapids._] much they would have liked to rest, even here; but their poverty admitted of no delay. the friends to whom they were going, and from whom they must exact and receive a temporary hospitality, were still separated from them a weary and dangerous way. they delayed as little as possible, yet the fall rains came upon them, and snow fell in the mountains, so as seriously to impede the labor of driving the cattle, and hunger and sickness began to affright them. in this unhappy situation they might have remained a long time, had there been no better dependence than the american settlers already in the valley, with the methodist mission at their head; for from them it does not appear that aid came, nor that any provision had been made by them to assist the expected immigrants. as usual in these crises, it was the hudson's bay company who came to the rescue, and, by the offer of boats, made it possible for those families to reach the wallamet. not only were the hudson's bay company's boats all required, but canoes and rafts were called into requisition to transport passengers and goods. no one, never having made the voyage of the columbia from above the dalles to vancouver, could have an adequate idea of the perils of the passage, as it was performed in those days, by small boats and the flat-bottomed "mackinaw" boats of the hudson's bay company. the canadian "voyageurs," who handled a boat as a good rider governs a horse, were not always able to make the passage without accident: how, then, could the clumsy landsmen, who were more used to the feel of a plow handle than an oar, be expected to do so? numerous have been the victims suddenly clutched from life by the grasp of the whirlpools, or dashed to death among the fearful rapids of the beautiful, but wild and pitiless, columbia. the immigration of did not escape without loss and bereavement. three brothers from missouri, by the name of applegate, with their families, were descending the river together, when, by the striking of a boat on a rock in the rapids, a number of passengers, mostly children of these gentlemen, were precipitated into the frightful current. the brothers each had a son in this boat, one of whom was lost, another injured for life, and the third escaped as by a miracle. this last boy was only ten years of age, yet such was the presence of mind and courage displayed in saving his own and a companion's life, that the miracle of his escape might be said to be his own. being a good swimmer, he kept himself valiantly above the surface, while being tossed about for nearly two miles. succeeding at last in grasping a feather bed which was floating near him, he might have passed the remaining rapids without serious danger, had he not been seized, as it were, by the feet, and drawn down, down, into a seething, turning, roaring abyss of water, where he was held, whirling about, and dancing up and down, striking now and then upon the rocks, until death seemed not only imminent but certain. after enduring this violent whirling and dashing for what seemed a hopelessly long period of time, he was suddenly vomited forth by the whirlpool once more upon the surface of the rapids, and, notwithstanding the bruises he had received, was able, by great exertion, to throw himself near, and seize upon a ledge of rocks. to this he clung with desperation, until, by dint of much effort, he finally drew himself out of the water, and stretched himself on the narrow shelf, where, for a moment, he swooned away. but on opening his eyes, he beheld, struggling in the foaming flood, a young man who had been a passenger in the wrecked boat with himself, and who, though older, was not so good a swimmer. calling to him with all his might, to make his voice heard above the roar of the rapids, he at last gained his attention, and encouraged him to try to reach the ledge of rocks, where he would assist him to climb up; and the almost impossible feat was really accomplished by their united efforts. this done, young applegate sank again into momentary unconsciousness, while poor exhausted nature recruited her forces. but, although they were saved from immediate destruction, death still stared them in the face. that side of the river on which they had found lodgment, was bounded by precipitous mountains, coming directly down to the water. they could neither ascend nor skirt along them, for foot-hold there was none. on the other side was level ground, but to reach it they must pass through the rapids--an alternative that looked like an assurance of destruction. in this extremity, it was the boy who resolved to risk his life to save it. seeing that a broken ledge of rock extended nearly across the river from a point within his reach, but only coming to the surface here and there, and of course very slippery, he nevertheless determined to attempt to cross on foot, amidst the roaring rapids. starting alone to make the experiment, he actually made the crossing in safety, amid the thundering roar and dizzying rush of waters--not only made it once, but returned to assure his companion of its practicability. the young man, however, had not the courage to undertake it, until he had repeatedly been urged to do so, and at last only by being pursuaded to go before, while his younger comrade followed after, not to lose sight of him, (for it was impossible to turn around,) and directed him where to place his steps. in this manner that which appears incredible was accomplished, and the two arrived in safety on the opposite side, where they were ultimately discovered by their distressed relatives, who had believed them to be lost. such was the battle which young applegate had with the rocks, that the flesh was torn from the palms of his hands, and his whole body bruised and lacerated. so it was with sorrow, after all, that the immigrants arrived in the valley. nor were their trials over when they had arrived. the worst feature about this long and exhausting journey was, that it could not be accomplished so as to allow time for recruiting the strength of the travelers, and providing them with shelter before the rainy season set in. either the new arrivals must camp out in the weather until a log house was thrown up, or they must, if they were invited, crowd into the small cabins of the settlers until there was scarce standing room, and thus live for months in an atmosphere which would have bred pestilence in any other less healthful climate. not only was the question of domiciles a trying one, but that of food still more so. some, who had families of boys to help in the rough labor of building, soon became settled in houses of their own, more or less comfortable; nor was anything very commodious required for the frontiers-men from missouri; but in the matter of something to eat, the more boys there were in the family, the more hopeless the situation. they had scarcely managed to bring with them provisions for their summer's journey--it was not possible to bring more. in the colony was food, but they had no money--few of them had much, at least; they had not goods to exchange; labor was not in demand: in short, the first winter in oregon was, to nearly all the new colonists, a time of trial, if not of actual suffering. many families now occupying positions of eminence on the pacific coast, knew what it was, in those early days, to feel the pangs of hunger, and to want for a sufficient covering for their nakedness. two anecdotes of this kind come to the writer's memory, as related by the parties themselves: the indians, who are everywhere a begging race, were in the habit of visiting the houses of the settlers and demanding food. on one occasion, one of them came to the house of a now prominent citizen of oregon, as usual petitioning for something to eat. the lady of the house, and mother of several young children, replied that she had nothing to give. not liking to believe her, the indian persisted in his demand, when the lady pointed to her little children and said, "go away; i have nothing--not even for those." the savage turned on his heel and strode quickly away, as the lady thought, offended. in a short time he reappeared with a sack of dried venison, which he laid at her feet. "take that," he said, "and give the _tenas tillicum_ (little children) something to eat." from that day, as long as he lived, that humane savage was a "friend of the family." the other anecdote concerns a gentleman who was chief justice of oregon under the provisional government, afterwards governor of california, and at present a banker in san francisco. he lived, at the time spoken of on the tualatin plains, and was a neighbor of joe meek. not having a house to go into at first, he was permitted to settle his family in the district school-house, with the understanding that on certain days of the month he was to allow religious services to be held in the building. in this he assented. meeting day came, and the family put on their best apparel to make themselves tidy in the eyes of their neighbors. only one difficulty was hard to get over: mr. ---- had only one shoe, the other foot was bare. but he considered the matter for some time, and then resolved that he might take a sheltered position behind the teacher's desk, where his deficiency would be hidden, and when the house filled up, as it would do very rapidly, he could not be expected to stir for want of space. however, that happened to the ambitious young lawyer which often does happen to the "best laid schemes of mice and men"--his went "all aglee." in the midst of the services, the speaker needed a cup of water, and requested mr. ---- to furnish it. there was no refusing so reasonable a request. out before all the congregation, walked the abashed and blushing pioneer, with his ill-matched feet exposed to view. this mortifying exposure was not without an agreeable result; for next day he received a present of a pair of moccasins, and was enabled thereafter to appear with feet that bore a brotherly resemblance to each other. about this time, the same gentleman, who was, as has been said, a neighbor of meek's, was going to wallamet falls with a wagon, and meek was going along. "take something to eat," said he to meek, "for i have nothing;" and meek promised that he would. accordingly when it came time to camp for the night, meek was requested to produce his lunch basket. going to the wagon, meek unfolded an immense pumpkin, and brought it to the fire. "what!" exclaimed mr. ----, "is that all we have for supper?" "roast pumpkin is not so bad," said meek, laughing back at him; "i've had worse fare in the mountains. it's buffalo tongue compared to ants or moccasin soles." and so with much merriment they proceeded to cut up their pumpkin and roast it, finding it as meek had said--"not so bad" when there was no better. these anecdotes illustrate what a volume could only describe--the perils and privations endured by the colonists in oregon. if we add that there were only two flouring mills in the wallamet valley, and these two not convenient for most of the settlers, both belonging to the mission, and that to get a few bushels of wheat ground involved the taking of a journey of from four to six days, for many, and that, too, over half-broken roads, destitute of bridges, it will be seen how difficult it was to obtain the commonest comforts of life. as for such luxuries as groceries and clothing, they had to wait for better times. lucky was the man who, "by hook or by crook," got hold of an order on the hudson's bay company, the methodist mission, or the milling company at the falls. were he thus fortunate, he had much ado to decide how to make it go farthest, and obtain the most. not far would it go, at the best, for fifty per cent. profit on all sales was what was demanded and obtained. perhaps the holder of a ten dollar draft made out his list of necessaries, and presented himself at the store, expecting to get them. he wanted some unbleached cotton, to be dyed to make dresses for the children; he would buy a pair of calf-skin shoes if he could afford them; and--yes--he would indulge in the luxury of a little--a very little--sugar, just for that once! arrived at the store after a long, jolting journey, in the farm wagon which had crossed the continent the year before, he makes his inquiries: "cotton goods?" "no; just out." "shoes?" "got one pair, rather small--wouldn't fit you." "what have you got in the way of goods?" "got a lot of silk handkerchiefs and twelve dozen straw hats." "any pins?" "no; a few knitting needles." "any yarn?" "yes, there's a pretty good lot of yarn, but don't you want some sugar? the last ship that was in left a quantity of sugar." so the holder of the draft exchanges it for some yarn and a few nails, and takes the balance in sugar; fairly compelled to be luxurious in one article, for the reason that others were not to be had till some other ship came in. no mails reached the colony, and no letters left it, except such as were carried by private hand, or were sent once a year in the hudson's bay company's express to canada, and thence to the states. newspapers arrived in the same manner, or by vessel from the sandwich islands. notwithstanding all these drawbacks, education was encouraged even from the very beginning; a library was started, and literary societies formed, and this all the more, perhaps, that the colony was so isolated and dependent on itself for intellectual pleasures. the spring of saw the colony in a state of some excitement on account of an attempt to introduce the manufacture of ardent spirits. this dangerous article had always been carefully excluded from the country, first by the hudson's bay company, and secondly by the methodist mission; and since the time when a mr. young had been induced to relinquish its manufacture, no serious effort had been made to introduce it. it does not appear from the oregon archives, that any law against its manufacture existed at that time: it had probably been overlooked in the proceedings of the legislative committee of the previous summer; neither was there yet any executive head to the provisional government, the election not having taken place. in this dilemma the people found themselves in the month of february, when one james conner had been discovered to be erecting a distillery at the falls of the wallamet. it happened, however, that an occasion for the exercise of executive power had occurred before the election of the executive committee, and now what was to be done? it was a case too, which required absolute power, for there was no law on the subject of distilleries. after some deliberation it was decided to allow the indian agent temporary power, and several letters were addressed to him, informing him of the calamity which threatened the community at the falls. "now, we believe that if there is anything which calls your attention in your official capacity, or anything in which you would be most cordially supported by the good sense and prompt action of the better part of community, it is the present case. we do not wish to dictate, but we hope for the best, begging pardon for intrusions." so read the closing paragraph of one of the letters. perhaps this humble petition touched the doctor's heart; perhaps he saw in the circumstance a possible means of acquiring influence; at all events he hastened to the falls, a distance of fifty miles, and entered at once upon the discharge of the executive duties thus thrust upon him in the hour of danger. calling upon meek, who had entered upon his duties as sheriff the previous summer, he gave him his orders. writ in hand, meek proceeded to the distillery, frightened the poor sinner into quiet submission with a display of his mountain manners; made a bugle of the worm, and blew it, to announce to the doctor his complete success; after which he tumbled the distillery apparatus into the river, and retired. connor was put under three hundred dollar bonds, and so the case ended. but there were other occasions on which the doctor's authority was put in requisition. it happened that a vessel from australia had been in the river, and left one madam cooper, who was said to have brought with her a barrel of whisky. her cabin stood on the east bank of the wallamet, opposite the present city of portland. not thinking it necessary to send the sheriff to deal with a woman, the doctor went in person, accompanied by a couple of men. entering the cabin the doctor remarked blandly, "you have a barrel of whisky, i believe." not knowing but her visitor's intention was to purchase, and not having previously resided in a strictly temperance community, madam cooper replied frankly that she had, and pointed to the barrel in question. the doctor then stepped forward, and placing his foot on it, said: "in the name of the united states, i levy execution on it!" at this unexpected declaration, the english woman stared wildly one moment, then recovering herself quickly, seized the poker from the chimney corner, and raising it over the doctor's head, exclaimed--"in the name of great britain, ireland, and scotland, i levy execution on you!" but when the stick descended, the doctor was not there. he had backed out at the cabin door; nor did he afterwards attempt to interfere with a subject of the crown of great britain. on the following day, however, the story having got afloat at the falls, meek and a young man highly esteemed at the mission, by the name of le breton, set out to pay their respects to madam cooper. upon entering the cabin, the two callers cast their eyes about until they rested on the whisky barrel. "have _you_ come to levy on my whisky?" inquired the now suspicious madam. "yes," said meek, "i have come to levy on it; but as i am not quite so high in authority as doctor white, i don't intend to levy on the whole of it at once. i think about a quart of it will do me." comprehending by the twinkle in meek's eye that she had now a customer more to her mind, madam cooper made haste to set before her visitors a bottle and tin cup, upon which invitation they proceeded to levy frequently upon the contents of the bottle; and we fear that the length of time spent there, and the amount of whisky drank must have strongly reminded meek of past rendezvous times in the mountains; nor can we doubt that he entertained le breton and madam cooper with many reminiscences of those times. however that may be, this was not the last visit of meek to madam cooper's, nor his last levy on her whisky. shortly after his election as sheriff he had been called upon to serve a writ upon a desperate character, for an attempt to kill. many persons, however, fearing the result of trying to enforce the law upon desperadoes, in the then defenceless condition of the colony, advised him to wait for the immigration to come in before attempting the arrest. but meek preferred to do his duty then, and went with the writ to arrest him. the man resisted, making an attack on the sheriff with a carpenter's axe; but meek coolly presented a pistol, assuring the culprit of the uselessness of such demonstrations, and soon brought him to terms of compliance. such coolness, united with a fine physique, and a mountain-man's reputation for reckless courage, made it very desirable that meek should continue to hold the office of sheriff during that stage of the colony's development. chapter xxvii. . as has before been mentioned, the indians of the wallamet valley were by no means so formidable as those of the upper country: yet considering their numbers and the condition of the settlers, they were quite formidable enough to occasion considerable alarm when any one of them, or any number of them betrayed the savage passions by which they were temporarily overcome. considerable excitement had prevailed among the more scattered settlers, ever since the reports of the disaffection among the up-country tribes had reached them; and dr. white had been importuned to throw up a strong fortification in the most central part of the colony, and to procure arms for their defence, at the expense of the united states. this excitement had somewhat subsided when an event occurred which for a time renewed it: a house was plundered and some horses stolen from the neighborhood of the falls. an indian from the dalles, named cockstock, was at the bottom of the mischief, and had been committing or instigating others to commit depredations upon the settlers, for a year previous, because he had been, as he fancied, badly treated in a matter between himself and a negro in the colony, in which the latter had taken an unfair advantage of him in a bargain. [illustration: a wild indian in town.] to crown his injuries dr. white had caused a relative of his to be flogged by the dalles chief, for entering the house of the methodist missionary at that place, and tying him, with the purpose of flogging him. (it was a poor law, he thought, that would not work both ways.) in revenge for this insult cockstock came to the doctor's house in the wallamet, threatening to shoot him at sight, but not finding him at home, contented himself for that time, by smashing all the windows in the dwelling and office of the doctor, and nearly frightening to death a young man on the premises. when on the doctor's return in the evening, the extent of the outrage became known, a party set out in pursuit of cockstock and his band, but failed to overtake them, and the settlers remained in ignorance concerning the identity of the marauders. about a month later, however, a party of klamath and molalla indians from the south of oregon, numbering fifteen, came riding into the settlement, armed and painted in true indian war-style. they made their way to the lodge of a calapooya chief in the neighborhood--the calapooyas being the indians native to the valley. dr. white fearing these mischievous visitors might infect the mind of the calapooya chief, sent a message to him, to bring his friends to call upon him in the morning, as he had something good to say to them. this they did, when dr. white explained the laws of the nez perces to them, and told them how much it would be to their advantage to adopt such laws. he gave the calapooya chief a fine fat ox to feast his friends with, well knowing that an indian's humor depends much on the state of his stomach, whether shrunken or distended. after the feast there was some more talk about the laws, in the midst of which the indian cockstock made his appearance, armed, and sullen in his demeanor. but as dr. white did not know him for the perpetrator of the outrage on his premises, he took no notice of him more than of the others. the molallas and klamaths finally agreed to receive the laws; departing in high good humor, singing and shouting. so little may one know of the savage heart from the savage professions! some of these indians were boiling over with secret wrath at the weakness of their brethren in consenting to laws of the agent's dictation; and while they were crossing a stream, fell upon and massacred them without mercy, cockstock taking an active part in the murder. the whites were naturally much excited by the villainous and horrible affray, and were for taking and hanging the murderers. the agent, however, was more cautious, and learning that there had been feuds among these indians long unsettled, decided not to interfere. in february, , fresh outrages on settlers having been committed so that some were leaving their claims and coming to stop at the falls through fear, dr. white was petitioned to take the case in hand. he accordingly raised a party of ten men, who had nearly all suffered some loss or outrage at cockstock's hands, and set out in search of him, but did not succeed in finding him. his next step was to offer a reward of a hundred dollars for his arrest, meaning to send him to the upper country to be tried and punished by the cayuses and nez perces, the doctor prudently desiring to have them bear the odium, and suffer the punishment, should any follow, of executing justice on the indian desperado. not so had the fates ordained. about a week after the reward was offered, cockstock came riding into the settlement at the falls, at mid-day, accompanied by five other indians, all well armed, and frightfully painted. going from house to house on their horses, they exhibited their pistols, and by look and gesture seemed to defy the settlers, who, however, kept quiet through prudential motives. not succeeding in provoking the whites to commence the fray, cockstock finally retired to an indian village on the other side of the river, where he labored to get up an insurrection, and procure the burning of the settlement houses. meantime the people at the falls were thoroughly alarmed, and bent upon the capture of this desperate savage. when, after an absence of a few hours, they saw him recrossing the river with his party, a crowd of persons ran down to the landing, some with offers of large reward to any person who would attempt to take him, while others, more courageous, were determined upon earning it. no definite plan of capture or concert of action was decided on, but all was confusion and doubt. in this frame of mind a collision was sure to take place; both the whites and indians firing at the moment of landing. mr. lebreton, the young man mentioned in the previous chapter, after firing ineffectually, rushed unarmed upon cockstock, whose pistol was also empty, but who still had his knife. in the struggle both fell to the ground, when a mulatto man, who had wrongs of his own to avenge, ran up and struck cockstock a blow on the head with the butt of his gun which dispatched him at once. thus the colony was rid of a scourge, yet not without loss which counterbalanced the gain. young lebreton besides having his arm shattered by a ball, was wounded by a poisoned arrow, which occasioned his death; and mr. rogers, another esteemed citizen, died from the same cause; while a third was seriously injured by a slight wound from a poisoned arrow. as for the five friends of cockstock, they escaped to the bluffs overlooking the settlement, and commenced firing down upon the people. but fire-arms were mustered sufficient to dislodge them, and thus the affair ended; except that the agent had some trouble to settle it with the dalles indians, who came down in a body to demand payment for the loss of their brother. after much talk and explanation, a present to the widow of the dead indian was made to smooth over the difficulty. meek, who at the time of the collision was rafting timber for dr. mclaughlin's mill at the falls, as might have been expected was appealed to in the melee by citizens who knew less about indian fighting. a prominent citizen and merchant, who probably seldom spoke _of_ him as mr. meek, came running to him in great affright:--"mr. meek! mr. meek! mr. meek!--i want to send my wife down to vancouver. can you assist me? do you think the indians will take the town?" "it 'pears like half-a-dozen injuns might do it," retorted meek, going on with his work. "what do you think we had better do, mr. meek?--what do you advise?" "i think _you'd_ better run." in all difficulties between the indians and settlers, meek usually refrained from taking sides--especially from taking sides against the indians. for indian slayer as he had once been when a ranger of the mountains, he had too much compassion for the poor wretches in the wallamet valley, as well as too much knowledge of the savage nature, to like to make unnecessary war upon them. had he been sent to take cockstock, very probably he would have done it with little uproar; for he had sufficient influence among the calapooyas to have enlisted them in the undertaking. but this was the agent's business and he let him manage it; for meek and the doctor were not in love with one another; one was solemnly audacious, the other mischievously so. of the latter sort of audacity, here is an example. meek wanted a horse to ride out to the plains where his family were, and not knowing how else to obtain it, helped himself to one belonging to dr. white; which presumption greatly incensed the doctor, and caused him to threaten various punishments, hanging among the rest. but the indians overhearing him replied, "_wake nika cumtux_--you dare not.--you no put rope round meek's neck. he _tyee_ (chief)--no hang him." upon which the doctor thought better of it, and having vented his solemn audacity, received smiling audacity with apparent good humor when he came to restore the borrowed horse. as our friend meek was sure to be found wherever there was anything novel or exciting transpiring, so he was sure to fall in with visitors of distinguished character, and as ready to answer their questions as they were to ask them. the conversation chanced one day to run upon the changes that had taken place in the country since the earliest settlement by the americans, and meek, who felt an honest pride in them, was expatiating at some length, to the ill-concealed amusement of two young officers, who probably saw nothing to admire in the rude improvements of the oregon pioneers. "mr. meek," said one of them, "if you have been so long in the country and have witnessed such wonderful transformations, doubtless you may have observed equally great ones in nature; in the rivers and mountains, for instance?" meek gave a lightning glance at the speaker who had so mistaken his respondent: "i reckon i have," said he slowly. then waving his hand gracefully toward the majestic mt. hood, towering thousands of feet above the summit of the cascade range, and white with everlasting snows: "when _i_ came to this country, mount hood was _a hole in the ground_!" it is hardly necessary to say that the conversation terminated abruptly, amid the universal cachinations of the bystanders. notwithstanding the slighting views of her british majesty's naval officers, the young colony was making rapid strides. the population had been increased nearly eight hundred by the immigration of , so that now it numbered nearly two thousand. grain had been raised in considerable quantities, cattle and hogs had multiplied, and the farmers were in the best of spirits. even our hero, who hated farm labor, began to entertain faith in the resources of his land claim to make him rich. such was the promising condition of the colony in the summer of . much of the real prosperity of the settlers was due to the determination of the majority to exclude ardent spirits and all intoxicating drinks from the country. so well had they succeeded that a gentleman writing of the colony at that time, says: "i attended the last term of the circuit courts in most of the counties, and i found great respect shown to judicial authority everywhere; nor did i see a single _drunken juryman_, _nor witness_, _nor spectator_. so much industry, good order, and sobriety i have never seen in any community." while this was the rule, there were exceptions to it. during the spring term of the circuit court, judge nesmith being on the bench, a prisoner was arraigned before him for "assault with intent to kill." the witness for the prosecution was called, and was proceeding to give evidence, when, at some statement of his, the prisoner vociferated that he was a "d----d liar," and quickly stripping off his coat demanded a chance to fight it out with the witness. judge nesmith called for the interference of meek, who had been made marshal, but just at that moment he was not to be found. coming into the room a moment later, meek saw the judge down from his bench, holding the prisoner by the collar. "you can imagine," says meek, "the bustle in court. but the judge had the best of it. he fined the rascal, and made him pay it on the spot; while i just stood back to see his honor handle him. that was fun for me." the autumn of was marked less by striking events than by the energy which the people exhibited in improving the colony by laying out roads and town-sites. already quite a number of towns were located, in which the various branches of business were beginning to develop themselves. oregon city was the most populous and important, but salem, champoeg, and portland were known as towns, and other settlements were growing up on the tualatin plains and to the south of them, in the fertile valleys of the numerous tributaries to the wallamet. portland was settled in this year, and received its name from the game of "heads you lose, tails i win," by which its joint owners agreed to determine it. one of them being a maine man, was for giving it the name which it now bears, the other partner being in favor of boston, because he was a massachusetts man. it was, therefore, agreed between them that a copper cent should be tossed to decide the question of the christening, which being done, heads and portland won. the early days of that city were not always safe and pleasant any more than those of its older rivals; and the few inhabitants frequently were much annoyed by the raids they were subject to from the now thoroughly vagabondized indians. on one occasion, while yet the population was small, they were very much annoyed by the visit of eight or ten lodges of indians, who had somewhere obtained liquor enough to get drunk on, and were enjoying a debauch in that spirit of total abandon which distinguishes the indian carousal. their performances at length alarmed the people, yet no one could be found who could put an end to them. in this dilemma the marshal came riding into town, splendidly mounted on a horse that would turn at the least touch of the rein. the countenances of the anxious portlanders brightened. one of the town proprietors eagerly besought him to "settle those indians." "very well," answered meek; "i reckon it won't take me long." mounting his horse, after first securing a rawhide rope, he "charged" the indian lodges, rope in hand, laying it on with force, the bare shoulders of the indians offering good _back-grounds_ for the pictures which he was rapidly executing. not one made any resistance, for they had a wholesome fear of _tyee_ meek. in twenty minutes not an indian, man or woman, was left in portland. some jumped into the river and swam to the opposite side, and some fled to the thick woods and hid themselves. the next morning, early, the women cautiously returned and carried away their property, but the men avoided being seen again by the marshal who punished drunkenness so severely. _reader's query._ was it meek or the marshal who so strongly disapproved of spreeing? _ans._ it was the marshal. the immigration to oregon this year much exceeded that of any previous year; and there was the usual amount of poverty, sickness, and suffering of every sort, among the fresh arrivals. indeed the larger the trains the greater the amount of suffering generally; since the grass was more likely to be exhausted, and more hindrances of every kind were likely to occur. in any case, a march of several months through an unsettled country was sure to leave the traveler in a most forlorn and exhausted condition every way. this was the situation of thousands of people who reached the dalles in the autumn of . food was very scarce among them, and the difficulties to encounter before reaching the wallamet just as great as those of the two previous years. as usual the hudson's bay company came to the assistance of the immigrants, furnishing a passage down the river in their boats; the sick, and the women and children being taken first. among the crowd of people encamped at the dalles, was a mr. rector, since well known in oregon and california. like many others he was destitute of provisions; his supplies having given out. neither had he any money. in this extremity he did that which was very disagreeable to him, as one of the "prejudiced" american citizens who were instructed beforehand to hate and suspect the hudson's bay company--he applied to the company's agent at the dalles for some potatoes and flour, confessing his present inability to pay, with much shame and reluctance. "do not apologize, sir," said the agent kindly; "take what you need. there is no occasion to starve while our supplies hold out." mr. r. found his prejudices in danger of melting away under such treatment; and not liking to receive bounty a second time, he resolved to undertake the crossing of the cascade mountains while the more feeble of the immigrants were being boated down the columbia. a few others who were in good health decided to accompany him. they succeeded in getting their wagons forty miles beyond the dalles; but there they could move no further. in this dilemma, after consultation, mr. rector and mr. barlow agreed to go ahead and look out a wagon road. taking with them two days' provisions, they started on in the direction of oregon city. but they found road hunting in the cascade mountains an experience unlike any they had ever had. not only had they to contend with the usual obstacles of precipices, ravines, mountain torrents, and weary stretches of ascent and descent; but they found the forests standing so thickly that it would have been impossible to have passed between the trees with their wagons had the ground been clear of fallen timber and undergrowth. on the contrary these latter obstacles were the greatest of all. so thickly were the trunks of fallen trees crossed and recrossed everywhere, and so dense the growth of bushes in amongst them, that it was with difficulty they could force their way on foot. it soon became apparent to the road hunters, that two days' rations would not suffice for what work they had before them. at the first camp it was agreed to live upon half rations the next day; and to divide and subdivide their food each day, only eating half of what was left from the day before, so that there would always still remain a morsel in case of dire extremity. but the toil of getting through the woods and over the mountains proved excessive; and that, together with insufficient food, had in the course of two or three days reduced the strength of mr. barlow so that it was with great effort only that he could keep up with his younger and more robust companion, stumbling and falling at every few steps, and frequently hurting himself considerably. so wolfish and cruel is the nature of men, under trying circumstances, that instead of feeling pity for his weaker and less fortunate companion, mr. rector became impatient, blaming him for causing delays, and often requiring assistance. [illustration: the road-hunters.] to render their situation still more trying, rain began to fall heavily, which with the cold air of the mountains, soon benumbed their exhausted frames. fearing that should they go to sleep so cold and famished, they might never be able to rise again, on the fourth or fifth evening they resolved to kindle a fire, if by any means they could do so. dry and broken wood had been plenty enough, but for the rain, which was drenching everything. neither matches nor flint had they, however, in any case. the night was setting in black with darkness; the wind swayed the giant firs over head, and then they heard the thunder of a falling monarch of the forest unpleasantly near. searching among the bushes, and under fallen timber for some dry leaves and sticks, mr. rector took a bundle of them to the most sheltered spot he could find, and set himself to work to coax a spark of fire out of two pieces of dry wood which he had split for that purpose. it was a long and weary while before success was attained, by vigorous rubbing together of the dry wood, but it was attained at last; and the stiffening limbs of the road-hunters were warmed by a blazing camp-fire. the following day, the food being now reduced to a crumb for each, the explorers, weak and dejected, toiled on in silence, mr. rector always in advance. on chancing to look back at his companion he observed him to be brushing away a tear. "what now, old man?" asked mr. r. with most unchristian harshness. "what would you do with me, rector, should i fall and break a leg, or become in any way disabled?" inquired mr. barlow, nervously. "do with you? _i would eat you!_" growled mr. rector, stalking on again. as no more was said for some time, mr. r.'s conscience rather misgave him that he treated his friend unfeelingly; then he stole a look back at him, and beheld the wan face bathed in tears. "come, come, barlow," said he more kindly, "don't take affairs so much to heart. you will not break a leg, and i should not eat you if you did, for you haven't any flesh on you to eat." "nevertheless, rector, i want you to promise me that in case i should fall and disable myself, so that i cannot get on, you will not leave me here to die alone, but will kill me with your axe instead." "nonsense, barlow; you are weak and nervous, but you are not going to be disabled, nor eaten, nor killed. keep up man; we shall reach oregon city yet." so, onward, but ever more slowly and painfully, toiled again the pioneers, the wonder being that mr. barlow's fears were not realized, for the clambering and descending gave him many a tumble, the tumbles becoming more frequent as his strength declined. towards evening of this day as they came to the precipitous bank of a mountain stream which was flowing in the direction they wished to go, suddenly there came to their ears a sound of more than celestial melody; the tinkling of bells, lowing of cattle, the voice of men hallooing to the herds. they had struck the cattle trail, which they had first diverged from in the hope of finding a road passable to wagons. in the overwhelming revulsion of feeling which seized them, neither were able for some moments to command their voices to call for assistance. that night they camped with the herdsmen, and supped in such plenty as an immigrant camp afforded. such were the sufferings of two individuals, out of a great crowd of sufferers; some afflicted in one way and some in another. that people who endured so much to reach their el dorado should be the most locally patriotic people in the world, is not singular. mr. barlow lived to construct a wagon road over the cascades for the use of subsequent immigrations. [illustration] chapter xxviii. early in , meek resigned his office of marshal of the colony, owing to the difficulty of collecting taxes; for in a thinly inhabited country, where wheat was a legal tender, at sixty cents per bushel, it was rather a burdensome occupation to collect, in so ponderous a currency; and one in which the collector required a granary more than a pocket-book. besides, meek had out-grown the marshalship, and aspired to become a legislator at the next june election. he had always discharged his duty with promptitude and rectitude while sheriff; and to his known courage might be attributed, in many instances, the ready compliance with law which was remarkable in so new and peculiar an organization as that of the oregon colony. the people had desired not to be taxed, at first; and for a year or more the government was sustained by a fund raised by subscription. when at last it was deemed best to make collections by law, the canadians objected to taxation to support an american government, while they were still subjects of great britain; but ultimately yielded the point, by the advice of dr. mclaughlin. but it was not always the canadians who objected to being taxed, as the following anecdote will show. dr. mclaughlin was one day seated in his office, in conversation with some of his american friends, when the tall form of the sheriff darkened the doorway. "i have come to tax you, doctor," said meek with his blandest manner, and with a merry twinkle, half suppressed, in his black eyes. "to tax me, mr. jo. i was not aware--i really was not aware--i believed i had paid my tax, mr. jo," stammered the doctor, somewhat annoyed at the prospect of some fresh demand. "thar is an old ox out in my neighborhood, doctor, and he is said to belong to you. thar is a tax of twenty-five cents on him." "i do not understand you, mr. jo. i have no cattle out in your neighborhood." "i couldn't say how that may be, doctor. all i do know about it, is just this. i went to old g----'s to collect the tax on his stock--and he's got a powerful lot of cattle,--and while we war a countin 'em over, he left out that old ox and said it belonged to you." "oh, oh, i see, mr. jo: yes, yes, i see! so it was mr. g----," cried the doctor, getting very red in the face. "i do remember now, since you bring it to my mind, that _i lent mr. g---- that steer six years ago_! here are the twenty-five cents, mr. jo." the sheriff took his money, and went away laughing; while the doctor's american friends looked quite as much annoyed as the doctor himself, over the meanness of some of their countrymen. the year of was one of the most exciting in the political history of oregon. president polk had at last given the notice required by the joint occupation treaty, that the oregon boundary question must be settled. agreeably to the promise which dr. mclaughlin had received from the british admiral, h.b.m. sloop of war _modeste_ had arrived in the columbia river in the month of october, , and had wintered there. much as the doctor had wished for protection from possible outbreaks, he yet felt that the presence of a british man-of-war in the columbia, and another one in puget sound, was offensive to the colonists. he set himself to cover up as carefully as possible the disagreeable features of the british lion, by endeavoring to establish social intercourse between the officers of the _modeste_ and the ladies and gentlemen of the colony, and his endeavors were productive of a partial success. during the summer, however, the united states schooner _shark_ appeared in the columbia, thus restoring the balance of power, for the relief of national jealousy. after remaining for some weeks, the _shark_ took her departure, but was wrecked on the bar at the mouth of the river, according to a prophecy of meek's, who had a grudge against her commander, lieut. howison, for spoiling the sport he was having in company with one of her officers, while howison was absent at the cascades. it appears that lieut. schenck was hospitably inclined, and that on receiving a visit from the hero of many bear-fights, who proved to be congenial on the subject of good liquors, he treated both meek and himself so freely as to render discretion a foreign power to either of them. varied and brilliant were the exploits performed by these jolly companions during the continuance of the spree; and still more brilliant were those they talked of performing, even the taking of the _modeste_, which was lying a little way off, in front of vancouver. fortunately for the good of all concerned, schenck contented himself with firing a salute as meek was going over the side of the ship on leaving. but for this misdemeanor he was put under arrest by howison, on his return from the cascades, an indignity which meek resented for the prisoner, by assuring lieut. howison that he would lose his vessel before he got out of the river. and lose her he did. schenck was released after the vessel struck, escaping with the other officers and crew by means of small boats. very few articles were saved from the wreck, but among those few was the stand of colors, which lieut. howison subsequently presented to gov. abernethy for the colony. there sinks the sun; like cavalier of old, servant of crafty spain, he flaunts his banner, barred with blood and gold, wide o'er the western main; a thousand spear heads glint beyond the trees in columns bright and long, while kindling fancy hears upon the breeze the swell of shout and song. and yet not here spain's gay, adventurous host dipped sword or planted cross; the treasures guarded by this rock-bound coast counted them gain nor loss. the blue columbia, sired by the eternal hills and wedded with the sea, o'er golden sands, tithes from a thousand rills, boiled in lone majesty-- through deep ravine, through burning, barren plain, through wild and rocky strait, through forest dark, and mountain rent in twain toward the sunset gate; while curious eyes, keen with the lust of gold, caught not the informing gleam, these mighty breakers age on age have rolled to meet this mighty stream. age after age these noble hills have kept, the same majestic lines; age after age the horizon's edge been swept by fringe of pointed pines. summers and winters circling came and went, bringing no change of scene; unresting, and unhasting, and unspent, dwelt nature here serene! till god's own time to plant of freedom's seed, in this selected soil; denied forever unto blood and greed, but blest to honest toil. there sinks the sun; gay cavalier no more! his banners trail the sea, and all his legions shining on the shore fade into mystery. the swelling tide laps on the shingly beach, like any starving thing; and hungry breakers, white with wrath, upreach, in a vain clamoring. the shadows fall; just level with mine eye sweet hesper stands and shines, and shines beneath an arc of golden sky, pinked round with pointed pines. a noble scene! all breadth, deep tone, and power, suggesting glorious themes; shaming the idler who would fill the hour with unsubstantial dreams. be mine the dreams prophetic, shadowing forth the things that yet shall be, when through this gate the treasures of the north flow outward to the sea. chapter xxix. the author of the following, "poem" was not either a dull or an unobservant writer; and we insert his verses as a comical bit of natural history belonging peculiarly to oregon. adventures of a columbia salmon. what is yon object which attracts the eye of the observing traveler, who ascends columbia's waters, when the summer sky in one soft tint, calm nature's clothing blends: as glittering in the sunbeams down it floats 'till some vile vulture on its carcase gloats? 'tis a poor salmon, which a short time past, with thousands of her finny sisters came, by instinct taught, to seek and find at last, the place that gave her birth, there to remain 'till nature's offices had been discharged, and fry from out the ova had emerged. her winter spent amongst the sheltered bays of the salt sea, where numerous fish of prey, with appetite keen, the number of her days would soon have put an end to, could but they have caught her; but as they could not, she, spring having come, resolved to quit the sea: and moving with the shoal along the coast, at length she reached the outlet of her native river, there tarried for a little to recruit her strength, so tried of late by cold and stormy weather; sporting in playful gambols o'er the banks and sands, chasing the tiny fish frequenting there in bands. but ah, how little thought this simple fish, the toils and perils she had yet to suffer, the chance she ran of serving as a dish for hungry white men or for indian's supper,-- of enemies in which the stream abounded, when lo! she's by a fisher's net surrounded. partly conscious of her approaching end, she darts with meteoric swiftness to and fro, striking the frail meshes, within which she's penned, which bid defiance to her stoutest blow: to smaller compass by degrees the snare is drawn, when with a leap she clears it and is gone. once more at large with her companions, now become more cautious from her late escape, she keeps in deeper water and thinks how foolish she was to get in such a scrape; as mounting further up the stream, she vies with other fish in catching gnats and flies. and as she on her way did thus enjoy life's fleeting moments, there arose a panic amongst the stragglers, who in haste deploy around their elder leaders, quick as magic, while she unconscious of the untimely rout, was by a hungry otter singled out: vigorous was the chase, on the marked victim shot through the clear water, while in close pursuit followed her amphibious foe, who scarce had got near enough to grasp her, when with turns acute, and leaps and revolutions, she so tried the otter, he gave up the hunt with merely having bit her. scarce had she recovered from her weakness, when an ancient eagle, of the bald-head kind, winging his dreary way to'rds some lone glen, where was her nest with four plump eaglets lined, espied the fish, which he judged quite a treat, and just the morsel for his little ones to eat: and sailing in spiral circles o'er the spot, where lay his prey, then hovering for a time, to take his wary aim, he stooped and caught his booty, which he carried to a lofty pine; upon whose topmost branches, he first adjusted his awkward load, ere with his claws he crushed it. "ill is the wind that blows no person good"-- so said the adage, and as luck would have it, a huge grey eagle out in search of food, who just had whet his hunger with a rabbit, attacked the other, and the pair together, in deadly combat fell into the river. our friend of course made off, when she'd done falling some sixty yards, and well indeed she might; for ne'er, perhaps, a fish got such a mauling since adam's time, or went up such a height into the air, and came down helter-skelter, as did this poor production of a melter. all these, with many other dangers, she survived, too manifold in this short space to mention; so we'll suppose her to have now arrived safe at _the falls_, without much more detention than one could look for, where so many liked her company, and so many indians spiked her. and here a mighty barrier stops her way: the tranquil water, finding in its course itself beset with rising rocks, which lay as though they said, "retire ye to your source," bursts with indignant fury from its bondage, now rushes in foaming torrents to the chasm below. the persevering fish then at the foot arrives, laboring with redoubled vigor mid the surging tide, and finding, by her strength, she vainly strives to overcome the flood, though o'er and o'er she tried; her tail takes in her mouth, and bending like a bow that's to full compass drawn, aloft herself doth throw; and spinning in the air, as would a silver wand that's bended end to end and upwards cast, headlong she falls amid the showering waters, and gasping for breath, against the rocks is dashed: again, again she vaults, again she tries, and in one last and feeble effort--dies. there was, in oregon city, a literary society called the "falls association," some of whose effusions were occasionally sent to the _spectator_, and this may have been one of them. at all events, it is plain that with balls, theatres, literary societies, and politics, the colony was not afflicted with dullness, in the winter of . but the history of the immigration this year, afforded, perhaps, more material for talk than any one other subject. the condition in which the immigrants arrived was one of great distress. a new road into the valley had been that season explored, at great labor and expense, by a company of gentlemen who had in view the aim to lessen the perils usually encountered in descending the columbia. they believed that a better pass might be discovered through the cascade range to the south, than that which had been found around the base of mount hood, and one which should bring the immigrants in at the upper end of the valley, thus saving them considerable travel and loss of time at a season of the year when the weather was apt to be unsettled. with this design, a party had set out to explore the cascades to the south, quite early in the spring; but failing in their undertaking, had returned. another company was then immediately formed, headed by a prominent member of society and the legislature. this company followed the old hudson's bay company's trail, crossing all those ranges of mountains perpendicular to the coast, which form a triple wall between oregon and california, until they came out into the valley of the humboldt, whence they proceeded along a nearly level, but chiefly barren country to fort hall, on the snake river. the route was found to be practicable, although there was a scarcity of grass and water along a portion of it; but as the explorers had with great difficulty found out and marked all the best camping grounds, and encountered first for themselves all the dangers of a hitherto unexplored region, most of which they believed they had overcome, they felt no hesitation in recommending the new road to the emigrants whom they met at fort hall. being aware of the hardships which the immigrants of the previous years had undergone on the snake river plains, at the crossing of snake river, the john day, and des chutes rivers, and the passage of the columbia, the travelers gladly accepted the tidings of a safer route to the wallamet. a portion of the immigration had already gone on by the road to the dalles; the remainder turned off by the southern route. of those who took the new route, a part were destined for california. all, however, after passing through the sage deserts, committed the error of stopping to recruit their cattle and horses in the fresh green valleys among the foot-hills of the mountains. it did not occur to them that they were wasting precious time in this way; but to this indulgence was owing an incredible amount of suffering. the california-bound travelers encountered the season of snow on the sierras, and such horrors are recorded of their sufferings as it is seldom the task of ears to hear or pen to record. snow-bound, without food, those who died of starvation were consumed by the living; even children were eaten by their once fond parents, with an indifference horrible to think on: so does the mind become degraded by great physical suffering. the oregon immigrants had not to cross the lofty sierras; but they still found mountains before them which, in the dry season, would have been formidable enough. instead, however, of the dry weather continuing, very heavy rains set in. the streams became swollen, the mountain sides heavy and slippery with the wet earth. where the road led through canyons, men and women were sometimes forced to stem a torrent, breast high, and cold enough to chill the life in their veins. the cattle gave out, the wagons broke down, provisions became exhausted, and a few persons perished, while all were in the direst straits. the first who got through into the valley sent relief to those behind; but it was weeks before the last of the worn, weary, and now impoverished travelers escaped from the horrors of the mountains in which they were so hopelessly entangled, and where most of their worldly goods were left to rot. the oregon legislature met as usual, to hold its winter session, though the people hoped and expected it would be for the last time under the provisional government. there were only two "mountain-men" in the house, at this session--meek and newell. in the suspense under which they for the present remained, there was nothing to do but to go on in the path of duty as they had heretofore done, keeping up their present form of government until it was supplanted by a better one. so passed the summer until the return of the "glorious fourth," which, being the first national anniversary occurring since the news of the treaty had reached the colony, was celebrated with proper enthusiasm. it chanced that an american ship, the _brutus_, capt. adams, from boston, was lying in the wallamet, and that a general invitation had been given to the celebrationists to visit the ship during the day. a party of fifty or sixty, including meek and some of his mountain associates, had made their calculations to go on board at the same time, and were in fact already alongside in boats, when captain adams singled out a boat load of people belonging to the mission clique, and inviting them to come on board, ordered all the others off. this was an insult too great to be borne by mountain-men, who resented it not only for themselves, but for the people's party of americans to which they naturally belonged. their blood was up, and without stopping to deliberate, meek and newell hurried off to fetch the twelve-pounder that had a few hours before served to thunder forth the rejoicings of a free people, but with which they now purposed to proclaim their indignation as freeman heinously insulted. the little twelve-pound cannon was loaded with rock, and got into range with the offending ship, and there is little doubt that capt. adams would have suffered loss at the hands of the incensed multitude, but for the timely interference of dr. mclaughlin. on being informed of the warlike intentions of meek and his associates, the good doctor came running to the rescue, his white hair flowing back from his noble face with the hurry of his movements. "oh, oh, mr. joe, mr. joe, you must not do this! indeed, you must not do this foolish thing! come now; come away. you will injure your country, mr. joe. how can you expect that ships will come here, if they are fired on? come away, come away!" and meek, ever full of waggishness, even in his wrath, replied: "doctor, it is not that i love the brutus less, but my dignity more." "oh, shakespeare, mr. joe! but come with me; come with me." and so the good doctor, half in authority, half in kindness, persuaded the resentful colonists to pass by the favoritism of the boston captain. meek was reëlected to the legislature this summer, and swam out to a vessel lying down at the mouth of the wallamet, to get liquor to treat his constituents; from which circumstance it may be inferred that while oregon was remarkable for temperance, there were occasions on which conviviality was deemed justifiable by a portion of her people. thus passed the summer. the autumn brought news of a large emigration _en route_ for the new territory; but it brought no news of good import from congress. on the contrary the bill providing for a territorial government for oregon had failed, because the organic laws of that territory excluded slavery forever from the country. the history of its failure is a part and parcel of the record of the long hard struggle of the south to extend slavery into the united states' territories. justly dissatisfied, but not inconsolable, the colony, now that hope was extinguished for another season, returned to its own affairs. the immigration, which had arrived early this year, amounted to between four and five thousand. an unfortunate affray between the immigrants and the indians at the dalles, had frightened away from that station the rev. father waller; and dr. whitman of the waiilatpu mission had purchased the station for the presbyterian mission, and placed a nephew of his in charge. although, true to their original bad character, the dalles indians had frequently committed theft upon the passing emigration, this was the first difficulty resulting in loss of life, which had taken place. this quarrel arose out of some thefts committed by the indians, and the unwise advice of mr. waller, in telling the immigrants to retaliate by taking some of the indian horses. an indian can see the justice of taking toll from every traveler passing through his country; but he cannot see the justice of being robbed in return; and mr. waller had been long enough among them to have known this. finding that it must continue yet a little longer to look after its own government and welfare, the colony had settled back into its wonted pursuits. the legislature had convened for its winter session, and had hardly elected its officers and read the usual message of the governor, before there came another, which fell upon their ears like a thunderbolt. gov. abernethy had sent in the following letter, written at vancouver the day before: fort vancouver, dec. , . _george abernethy, esq._; sir:--having received intelligence, last night, by special express from walla-walla, of the destruction of the missionary settlement at waiilatpu, by the cayuse indians of that place, we hasten to communicate the particulars of that dreadful event, one of the most atrocious which darkens the annals of indian crime. our lamented friend, dr. whitman, his amiable and accomplished lady, with nine other persons, have fallen victims to the fury of these remorseless savages, who appear to have been instigated to this appalling crime by a horrible suspicion which had taken possession of their superstitious minds, in consequence of the number of deaths from dysentery and measles, that dr. whitman was silently working the destruction of their tribe by administering poisonous drugs, under the semblance of salutary medicines. with a goodness of heart and benevolence truly his own, dr. whitman had been laboring incessantly since the appearance of the measles and dysentery among his indian converts, to relieve their sufferings; and such has been the reward of his generous labors. a copy of mr. mcbean's letter, herewith transmitted, will give you all the particulars known to us of this indescribably painful event. mr. ogden, with a strong party, will leave this place as soon as possible for walla-walla, to endeavor to prevent further evil; and we beg to suggest to you the propriety of taking instant measures for the protection of the rev. mr. spalding, who, for the sake of his family, ought to abandon the clear-water mission without delay, and retire to a place of safety, as he cannot remain at that isolated station without imminent risk, in the present excited and irritable state of the indian population. i have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient servant, james douglas. chapter xxx. - . doubtless the reader remembers the disquiet felt and expressed by the indians in the upper country in the year . for the time they had been quieted by presents, by the advice of the hudson's bay company, and by the agent's promise that in good time the united states would send them blankets, guns, ammunition, food farming implements, and teachers to show them how to live like the whites. in the meantime, five years having passed, these promises had not been kept. five times a large number of whites, with their children, their cattle, and wagons, had passed through their country, and gone down into the wallamet valley to settle. now they had learned that the united states claimed the wallamet valley; yet they had never heard that the indians of that country had received any pay for it. they had accepted the religion of the whites believing it would do them good; but now they were doubtful. had they not accepted laws from the united states agent, and had not their people been punished for acts which their ancestors and themselves had always before committed at will? none of these innovations seemed to do them any good: they were disappointed. but the whites, or bostons, (meaning the americans) were coming more and more every year, so that by-and-by there would be all bostons and no indians. once they had trusted in the words of the americans; but now they knew how worthless were their promises. the americans had done them much harm. years before had not one of the missionaries suffered several of their people, and the son of one of their chiefs, to be slain in his company, yet himself escaped? had not the son of another chief, who had gone to california to buy cattle, been killed by a party of americans, for no fault of his own? their chief's son was killed, the cattle robbed from his party, after having been paid for; and his friends obliged to return poor and in grief. to be sure, dr. white had given them some drafts to be used in obtaining cattle from the immigration, as a compensation for their losses in california; but they could not make them available; and those who wanted cattle had to go down to the wallamet for them. in short, could the indians have thought of an american epithet to apply to americans, it would have been that expressive word _humbug_. what they felt and what they thought, was, that they had been cheated. they feared greater frauds in the future, and they were secretly resolved not to submit to them. so far as regarded the missionaries, dr. whitman and his associates, they were divided; yet as so many looked on the doctor as an agent in promoting the settlement of the country with whites, it was thought best to drive him from the country, together with all the missionaries. several years before dr. whitman had known that the indians were displeased with his settlement among them. they had told him of it: they had treated him with violence; they had attempted to outrage his wife; had burned his property; and had more recently several times warned him to leave their country, or they should kill him. not that all were angry at him alike, or that any were personally very ill-disposed towards him. everything that a man could do to instruct and elevate these savage people, he had done, to the best of his ability, together with his wife and assistants. but he had not been able, or perhaps had not attempted, to conceal the fact, that he looked upon the country as belonging to his people, rather than to the natives, and it was this fact which was at the bottom of their "bad hearts" toward the doctor. so often had warnings been given which were disregarded by dr. whitman, that his friends, both at vancouver and in the settlements, had long felt great uneasiness, and often besought him to remove to the wallamet valley. but although dr. whitman sometimes was half persuaded to give up the mission upon the representations of others, he could not quite bring himself to do so. so far as the good conduct of the indians was concerned, they had never behaved better than for the last two years. there had been less violence, less open outrage, than formerly; and their civilization seemed to be progressing; while some few were apparently hopeful converts. yet there was ever a whisper in the air--"dr. whitman must die." the mission at lapwai was peculiarly successful. mrs. spalding, more than any other of the missionaries, had been able to adapt herself to the indian character, and to gain their confidence. besides, the nez perces were a better nation than the cayuses;--more easily controlled by a good counsel; and it seemed like doing a wrong to abandon the work so long as any good was likely to result from it. there were other reasons too, why the missions could not be abandoned in haste, one of which was the difficulty of disposing of the property. this might have been done perhaps, to the catholics, who were establishing missions throughout the upper country; but dr. whitman would never have been so false to his own doctrines, as to leave the field of his labors to the romish church. yet the division of sentiment among the indians with regard to religion, since the catholic missionaries had come among them, increased the danger of a revolt: for in the indian country neither two rival trading companies, nor two rival religions can long prosper side by side. the savage cannot understand the origin of so many religions. he either repudiates all, or he takes that which addresses itself to his understanding through the senses. in the latter respect, the forms of catholicism, as adapted to the savage understanding, made that religion a dangerous rival to intellectual and idealistic presbyterianism. but the more dangerous the rival, the greater the firmness with which dr. whitman would cling to his duty. there were so many causes at work to produce a revolution among the indians, that it would be unfair to name any one as _the_ cause. the last and immediate provocation was a season of severe sickness among them. the disease was measles, and was brought in the train of the immigration. this fact alone was enough to provoke the worst passions of the savage. the immigration in itself was a sufficient offense; the introduction through them of a pestilence, a still weightier one. it did not signify that dr. whitman had exerted himself night and day to give them relief. their peculiar notions about a medicine-man made it the doctor's duty to cure the sick; or made it the duty of the relatives of the dead and dying to avenge their deaths. yet in spite of all and every provocation, perhaps the fatal tragedy might have been postponed, had it not been for the evil influence of one jo lewis, a half-breed, who had accompanied the emigration from the vicinity of fort hall. this jo lewis, with a large party of emigrants, had stopped to winter at the mission, much against dr. whitman's wishes; for he feared not having food enough for so many persons. finding that he could not prevent them, he took some of the men into his employ, and among others the stranger half-breed. this man was much about the house, and affected to relate to the indians conversations which he heard between dr. and mrs. whitman, and mr. spalding, who with his little daughter, was visiting at waiilatpu. these conversations related to poisoning the indians, in order to get them all out of the way, so that the white men could enjoy their country unmolested. yet this devil incarnate did not convince his hearers at once of the truth of his statements; and it was resolved in the tribe to make a test of dr. whitman's medicine. three persons were selected to experiment upon; two of them already sick, and the third quite well. whether it was that the medicine was administered in too large quantities, or whether an unhappy chance so ordered it, all those three persons died. surely it is not singular that in the savage mind this circumstance should have been deemed decisive. it was then that the decree went forth that not only the doctor and mrs. whitman, but all the americans at the mission must die. on the d of november, mr. spalding arrived at waiilatpu, from his mission, one hundred and twenty miles distant, with his daughter, a child of ten years, bringing with him also several horse-loads of grain, to help feed the emigrants wintering there. he found the indians suffering very much, dying one, two, three, and sometimes five in a day. several of the emigrant families, also, were sick with measles and the dysentery, which followed the disease. a child of one of them died the day following mr. spalding's arrival. dr. whitman's family consisted of himself and wife, a young man named rodgers, who was employed as a teacher, and also studying for the ministry, two young people, a brother and sister, named bulee, seven orphaned children of one family, whose parents had died on the road to oregon in a previous year, named sager, helen mar, the daughter of joe meek, another little half-breed girl, daughter of bridger the fur-trader, a half-breed spanish boy whom the doctor had brought up from infancy, and two sons of a mr. manson, of the hudson's bay company. besides these, there were half-a-dozen other families at the mission, and at the saw-mill, twenty miles distant, five families more--in all, forty-six persons at waiilatpu, and fifteen at the mill, who were among those who suffered by the attack. but there were also about the mission, three others, jo lewis, nicholas finlay, and joseph stanfield, who probably knew what was about to take place, and may, therefore be reckoned as among the conspirators. while mr. spalding was at waiilatpu, a message came from two walla-walla chiefs, living on the umatilla river, to dr. whitman, desiring him to visit the sick in their villages, and the two friends set out together to attend to the call, on the evening of the th of november. says mr. spalding, referring to that time: "the night was dark, and the wind and rain beat furiously upon us. but our interview was sweet. we little thought it was to be our last. with feelings of the deepest emotion we called to mind the fact, that eleven years before, we crossed this trail before arriving at walla-walla, the end of our seven months' journey from new york. we called to mind the high hopes and thrilling interests which had been awakened during the year that followed--of our successful labors and the constant devotedness of the indians to improvement. true, we remembered the months of deep solicitude we had, occasioned by the increasing menacing demands of the indians for pay for their wood, their water, their air, their lands. but much of this had passed away, and the cayuses were in a far more encouraging condition than ever before." mr. spalding further relates that himself and dr. whitman also conversed on the danger which threatened them from the catholic influence. "we felt," he says, "that the present sickness afforded them a favorable opportunity to excite the indians to drive us from the country, and all the movements about us seemed to indicate that this would soon be attempted, if not executed." such was the suspicion in the minds of the protestants. let us hope that it was not so well founded as they believed. the two friends arrived late at the lodge of _stickas_, a chief, and laid down before a blazing fire to dry their drenched clothing. in the morning a good breakfast was prepared for them, consisting of beef, vegetables, and bread--all of which showed the improvement of the indians in the art of living. the day, being sunday, was observed with as much decorum as in a white man's house. after breakfast, dr. whitman crossed the river to visit the chiefs who had sent for him, namely, _tan-i-tan_, _five crows_, and _yam-ha-wa-lis_, returning about four o'clock in the afternoon, saying he had taken tea with the catholic bishop and two priests, at their house, which belonged to _tan-i-tan_, and that they had promised to visit him in a short time. he then departed for the mission, feeling uneasy about the sick ones at home. mr. spalding remained with the intention of visiting the sick and offering consolation to the dying. but he soon discovered that there was a weighty and uncomfortable secret on the mind of his entertainer, _stickas_. after much questioning, _stickas_ admitted that the thought which troubled him was that the americans had been "decreed against" by his people; more he could not be induced to reveal. anxious, yet not seriously alarmed,--for these warnings had been given before many times,--he retired to his couch of skins, on the evening of the th, being monday--not to sleep, however; for on either side of him an indian woman sat down to chant the death-song--that frightful lament which announces danger and death. on being questioned they would reveal nothing. on the following morning, mr. spalding could no longer remain in uncertainty, but set out for waiilatpu. as he mounted his horse to depart, an indian woman placed her hand on the neck of his horse to arrest him, and pretending to be arranging his head-gear, said in a low voice to the rider, "beware of the cayuses at the mission." now more than ever disturbed by this intimation that it was the mission which was threatened, he hurried forward, fearing for his daughter and his friends. he proceeded without meeting any one until within sight of the lovely walla-walla valley, almost in sight of the mission itself, when suddenly, at a wooded spot where the trail passes through a little hollow, he beheld two horsemen advancing, whom he watched with a fluttering heart, longing for, and yet dreading, the news which the very air seemed whispering. the two horsemen proved to be the catholic vicar general, brouillet, who, with a party of priests and nuns had arrived in the country only a few months previous, and his half-breed interpreter, both of whom were known to mr. spalding. they each drew rein as they approached, mr. spalding immediately inquiring "what news?" "there are very many sick at the whitman station," answered brouillet, with evident embarrassment. "how are doctor and mrs. whitman?" asked spalding anxiously. "the doctor is ill--is dead," added the priest reluctantly. "and mrs. whitman?" gasped spalding. "is dead also. the indians have killed them." "my daughter?" murmured the agonized questioner. "is safe, with the other prisoners," answered brouillet. "and then," says spalding in speaking of that moment of infinite horror, when in his imagination a picture of the massacre, of the anguish of his child, the suffering of the prisoners, of the probable destruction of his own family and mission, and his surely impending fate, all rose up before him--"i felt the world all blotted out at once, and sat on my horse as rigid as a stone, not knowing or feeling anything." while this conversation had been going on the half-breed interpreter had kept a sinister watch over the communication, and his actions had so suspicious a look that the priest ordered him to ride on ahead. when he had obeyed, brouillet gave some rapid instructions to spalding; not to go near the mission, where he could do no good, but would be certainly murdered; but to fly, to hide himself until the excitement was over. the men at the mission were probably all killed; the women and children would be spared; nothing could be done at present but to try to save his own life, which the indians were resolved to take. the conversation was hurried, for there was no time to lose. spalding gave his pack-horse to brouillet, to avoid being encumbered by it; and taking some provisions which the priest offered, struck off into the woods there to hide until dark. nearly a week from this night he arrived at the lapwai mission, starved, torn, with bleeding feet as well as broken heart. obliged to secrete himself by day, his horse had escaped from him, leaving him to perform his night journeys on foot over the sharp rocks and prickly cactus plants, until not only his shoes had been worn out, but his feet had become cruelly lacerated. the constant fear which had preyed upon his heart of finding his family murdered, had produced fearful havoc in the life-forces; and although mr. spalding had the happiness of finding that the nez perces had been true to mrs. spalding, defending her from destruction, yet so great had been the first shock, and so long continued the strain, that his nervous system remained a wreck ever afterward. [illustration: mount hood from the dalles.] chapter xxxi. . when dr. whitman reached home on that sunday night, after parting with mr. spalding at the umatilla, it was already about midnight; yet he visited the sick before retiring to rest; and early in the morning resumed his duties among them. an indian died that morning. at his burial, which the doctor attended, he observed that but few of the friends and relatives of the deceased were present but attributed it to the fear which the indians have of disease. everything about the mission was going on as usual. quite a number of indians were gathered about the place; but as an ox was being butchered, the crowd was easily accounted for. three men were dressing the beef in the yard. the afternoon session of the mission school had just commenced. the mechanics belonging to the station were about their various avocations. young bulee was sick in the doctor's house. three of the orphan children who were recovering from the measles, were with the doctor and mrs. whitman in the sitting-room; and also a mrs. osborne, one of the emigrants who had just got up from a sick bed, and who had a sick child in her arms. [illustration: _massacre of rev. dr. whitman of the presbyterian mission._] the doctor had just come in, wearied, and dejected as it was possible for his resolute spirit to be, and had seated himself, bible in hand, when several indians came to a side door, asking permission to come in and get some medicine. the doctor rose, got his medicines, gave them out, and sat down again. at that moment mrs. whitman was in an adjoining room and did not see what followed. _tam-a-has_, a chief called "the murderer," came behind the doctor's chair, and raising his tomahawk, struck the doctor in the back of the head, stunning but not killing him. instantly there was a violent commotion. john sager, one of the adopted children, sprang up with his pistol in his hand, but before he could fire it, he too was struck down, and cut and hacked shockingly. in the meantime dr. whitman had received a second blow upon the head, and now laid lifeless on the floor. cries and confusion filled the house. at the first sound, mrs. whitman, in whose ears that whisper in the air had so long sounded, began in agony to stamp upon the floor, and wring her hands, crying out, "oh, the indians, the indians!" at that moment one of the women from an adjoining building came running in, gasping with terror, for the butchery was going on outside as well, and _tam-a-has_ and his associates were now assisting at it. going to the room where the doctor lay insensible, mrs. whitman and her terrified neighbor dragged him to the sofa and laid him upon it, doing all they could to revive him. to all their inquiries he answered by a whispered "no," probably not conscious what was said. while this was being done, the people from every quarter began to crowd into the doctor's house, many of them wounded. outside were heard the shrieks of women, the yells of the indians, the roar of musketry, the noise of furious riding, of meeting war-clubs, groans, and every frightful combination of sound, such as only could be heard at such a carnival of blood. still mrs. whitman sat by her husband's side, intent on trying to rouse him to say one coherent word. nearer and nearer came the struggle, and she heard some one exclaim that two of her friends were being murdered beneath the window. starting up, she approached the casement to get a view, as if by looking she could save; but that moment she encountered the fiendish gaze of jo lewis the half-breed, and comprehended his guilt. "is it _you_, jo, who are doing this?" she cried. before the expression of horror had left her lips, a young indian who had been a special favorite about the mission, drew up his gun and fired, the ball entering her right breast, when she fell without a groan. when the people had at first rushed in, mrs. whitman had ordered the doors fastened and the sick children removed to a room up stairs. thither now she was herself conveyed, having first recovered sufficiently to stagger to the sofa where lay her dying husband. those who witnessed this strange scene, say that she knelt and prayed--prayed for the orphan children she was leaving, and for her aged parents. the only expression of personal regret she was heard to utter, was sorrow that her father and mother should live to know she had perished in such a manner. in the chamber were now gathered mrs. whitman, mrs. hayes, miss bulee, catharine sager, thirteen years of age, and three of the sick children, besides mr. rogers and mr. kimble. scarcely had they gained this retreat when the crashing of windows and doors was heard below, and with whoops and yells the savages dashed into the sitting-room where doctor whitman still lay dying. while some busied themselves removing from the house the goods and furniture, a chief named _te-lau-ka-ikt_, a favorite at the mission, and on probation for admission into the church, deliberately chopped and mangled the face of his still breathing teacher and friend with his tomahawk, until every feature was rendered unrecognizable. the children from the school-house were brought into the kitchen of the doctor's house about this time, by jo lewis, where, he told them, they were going to be shot. mr. spalding's little girl eliza, was among them. understanding the native language, she was fully aware of the terrible import of what was being said by their tormentors. while the indians talked of shooting the children huddled together in the kitchen, pointing their guns, and yelling, eliza covered her face with her apron, and leaned over upon the sink, that she might not see them shoot her. after being tortured in this manner for some time, the children were finally ordered out of doors. while this was going on, a chief called _tamt-sak-y_, was trying to induce mrs. whitman to come down into the sitting-room. she replied that she was wounded and could not do so, upon which he professed much sorrow, and still desired her to be brought down, "if you are my friend _tamt-sak-y_, come up and see me," was her reply to his professions, but he objected, saying there were americans concealed in the chamber, whom he feared might kill him. mr. rogers then went to the head of the stairs and endeavored to have the chief come up, hoping there might be some friendly ones, who would aid them in escaping from the murderers. _tamt-sak-y_, however, would not come up the stairs, although he persisted in saying that mrs. whitman should not be harmed, and that if all would come down and go over to the other house where the families were collected, they might do so in safety. the indians below now began to call out that they were going to burn the doctor's house. then no alternative remained but to descend and trust to the mercy of the savages. as mrs. whitman entered the sitting-room, leaning on one arm of mr. rogers, who also was wounded in the head, and had a broken arm, she caught a view of the shockingly mutilated face of her husband and fell fainting upon the sofa, just as doctor whitman gave a dying gasp. mr. rogers and mrs. hayes now attempted to get the sofa, or settee, out of the house, and had succeeded in moving it through the kitchen to the door. no sooner did they appear in the open door-way than a volley of balls assailed them. mr. rogers fell at once, but did not die immediately, for one of the most horrid features in this horrid butchery was, that the victims were murdered by torturing degrees. mrs. whitman also received several gunshot wounds, lying on the settee. francis sager, the oldest of her adopted boys, was dragged into the group of dying ones and shot down. the children, who had been turned out of the kitchen were still huddled together about the kitchen door, so near to this awful scene that every incident was known to them, so near that the flashes from the guns of the indians burnt their hair, and the odor of the blood and the burning powder almost suffocated them. at two o'clock in the afternoon the massacre had commenced. it was now growing dusk, and the demons were eager to finish their work. seeing that life still lingered in the mangled bodies of their victims, they finished their atrocities by hurling them in the mud and gore which filled the yard, and beating them upon their faces with whips and clubs, while the air was filled with the noise of their shouting, singing, and dancing--the indian women and children assisting at these orgies, as if the bible had never been preached to them. and thus, after eleven years of patient endeavor to save some heathen souls alive, perished doctor and mrs. whitman. in all that number of indians who had received daily kindnesses at the hands of the missionaries, only two showed any compassion. these two, _ups_ and _madpool_, walla-wallas, who were employed by the doctor, took the children away from the sickening sights that surrounded them, into the kitchen pantry, and there in secret tried to comfort them. when night set in the children and families were all removed to the building called the mansion-house, where they spent a night of horror; all, except those who were left in mrs. whitman's chamber, from which they dared not descend, and the family of mr. osborne, who escaped. on the first assault mr. and mrs. osborne ran into their bedroom which adjoined the sitting-room, taking with them their three small children. raising a plank in the floor, mr. o. quickly thrust his wife and children into the space beneath, and then following, let the plank down to its place. here they remained until darkness set in, able to hear all that was passing about them, and fearing to stir. when all was quiet at the doctor's house, they stole out under cover of darkness and succeeded in reaching fort walla-walla, after a painful journey of several days, or rather nights, for they dared not travel by day. another person who escaped was a mr. hall, carpenter, who in a hand to hand contest with an indian, received a wound in the face, but finally reached the cover of some bushes where he remained until dark, and then fled in the direction of fort walla-walla. mr. hall was the first to arrive at the fort, where, contrary to his expectations, and to all humanity, he was but coldly received by the gentleman in charge, mr. mcbean. whether it was from cowardice or cruelty as some alleged, that mr. mcbean rejoiced in the slaughter of the protestant missionaries, himself being a catholic, can never be known. had that been true, one might have supposed that their death would have been enough, and that he might have sheltered a wounded man fleeing for his life, without grudging him this atom of comfort. unfortunately for mr. mcbean's reputation, he declined to grant such shelter willingly. mr. hall remained, however, twelve hours, until he heard a report that the women and children were murdered, when, knowing how unwelcome he was, and being in a half distracted state, he consented to be set across the columbia to make his way as best he could to the wallamet. from this hour he was never seen or heard from, the manner of his death remaining a mystery to his wife and their family of five children, who were among the prisoners at waiilatpu. when mr. osborne left the mission in the darkness, he was able only to proceed about two miles, before mrs. osborne's strength gave way, she lately having been confined by an untimely birth; and he was compelled to stop, secreting himself and family in some bushes. here they remained, suffering with cold, and insufficient food, having only a little bread and cold mush which they had found in the pantry of the doctor's house, before leaving it. on tuesday night, mrs. o. was able to move about three miles more: and again they were compelled to stop. in this way to proceed, they must all perish of starvation; therefore on wednesday night mr. o. took the second child and started with it for the fort, where he arrived before noon on thursday. although mr. mcbean received him with friendliness of manner, he refused him horses to go for mrs. osborne and his other children, and even refused to furnish food to relieve their hunger, telling him to go to the umatilla, and forbidding his return to the fort. a little food was given to himself and child, who had been fasting since monday night. whether mr. mcbean would have allowed this man to perish is uncertain: but certain it is that some base or cowardly motive made him exceedingly cruel to both hall and osborne. while mr. osborne was partaking of his tea and crackers, there arrived at the fort mr. stanley, the artist, whom the reader will remember having met in the mountains several years before. when the case became known to him, he offered his horses immediately to go for mrs. osborne. shamed into an appearance of humanity, mr. mcbean then furnished an indian guide to accompany mr. o. to the umatilla, where he still insisted the fugitives should go, though this was in the murderer's country. a little meat and a few crackers were furnished for the supper of the travelers; and with a handkerchief for his hatless head and a pair of socks for his child's naked feet, all furnished by mr. stanley, mr. osborne set out to return to his suffering wife and children. he and his guide traveled rapidly, arriving in good time near the spot where he believed his family to be concealed. but the darkness had confused his recollection, and after beating the bushes until daylight, the unhappy husband and father was about to give up the search in despair, when his guide at length discovered their retreat. the poor mother and children were barely alive, having suffered much from famine and exposure, to say nothing of their fears. mrs. osborne was compelled to be tied to the indian in order to sit her horse. in this condition the miserable fugitives turned toward the umatilla, in obedience to the command of mcbean, and were only saved from being murdered by a cayuse by the scornful words of the guide, who shamed the murderer from his purpose of slaughtering a sick and defenceless family. at a canadian farm-house, where they stopped to change horses, they were but roughly received; and learning here that _tamt-sak-y's_ lodge was near by, mrs. osborne refused to proceed any farther toward the umatilla. she said, "i doubt if i can live to reach the umatilla; and if i must die, i may as well die at the gates of the fort. let us, then, turn back to the fort." to this the guide assented, saying it was not safe going among the cayuses. the little party, quite exhausted, reached walla-walla about ten o'clock at night, and were at once admitted. contrary to his former course, mr. mcbean now ordered a fire made to warm the benumbed travelers, who, after being made tolerably comfortable, were placed in a secret room of the fort. again mr. osborne was importuned to go away, down to the wallamet, mr. mcbean promising to take care of his family and furnish him an outfit if he would do so. upon being asked to furnish a boat, and indians to man it, in order that the family might accompany him, he replied that his indians refused to go. from all this reluctance, not only on the part of mcbean, but of the indians also, to do any act which appeared like befriending the americans, it would appear that there was a very general fear of the cayuse indians, and a belief that they were about to inaugurate a general war upon the americans, and their friends and allies. mr. osborne, however, refused to leave his family behind, and mr. mcbean was forced to let him remain until relief came. when it did come at last, in the shape of mr. ogden's party, _stickas_, the chief who had warned mr. spalding, showed his kind feeling for the sufferers by removing his own cap and placing it on mr. osborne's head, and by tying a handkerchief over the ears of mr. osborne's little son, as he said, "to keep him warm, going down the river." sadly indeed, did the little ones who suffered by the massacre at waiilatpu, stand in need of any christian kindness. chapter xxxii. . a full account of the horrors of the waiilatpu massacre, together with the individual sufferings of the captives whose lives were spared, would fill a volume, and be harrowing to the reader; therefore, only so much of it will be given here as, from its bearing upon oregon history, is important to our narrative. the day following the massacre, being tuesday, was the day on which mr. spalding was met and warned not to go to the mission, by the vicar general, brouillet. happening at the mission on that day, and finding the bodies of the victims still unburied, brouillet had them hastily interred before leaving, if interment it could be called which left them still a prey to wolves. the reader of this chapter of oregon history will always be very much puzzled to understand by what means the catholic priests procured their perfect exemption from harm during this time of terror to the americans. was it that they were french, and that they came into the country _only_ as missionaries of a religion adapted to the savage mind, and not as settlers? was it at all owing to the fact that they were celibates, with no families to excite jealous feelings of comparison in the minds of their converts? through a long and bitter war of words, which followed the massacre at waiilatpu, terrible sins were charged upon the priests--no less than inciting the indians to the murder of the protestants, and winking at the atrocities of every kind committed by the savages. whether they feared to enter into the quarrel, and were restrained from showing sympathy solely by this fear, is a question only themselves can determine. certain it is, that they preserved a neutral position, when to be neutral was to seem, if not to be, devoid of human sympathies. that the event would have happened without any other provocation than such as the americans furnished by their own reckless disregard of indian prejudices, seems evident. the question, and the only question which is suggested by a knowledge of all the circumstances, is whether the event was helped on by an intelligent outside influence. it was quite natural that the protestants should wonder at the immunity from danger which the priests enjoyed; and that, not clearly seeing the reason, they should suspect them of collusion with the indians. it was natural, too, for the sufferers from the massacre to look for some expression of sympathy from any and all denominations of christians; and that, not receiving it, they should have doubts of the motives which prompted such reserve. the story of that time is but an unpleasant record, and had best be lightly touched upon. the work of death and destruction did not close with the first day at waiilatpu. mr. kimble, who had remained in the chamber of the doctor's house all night, had suffered much from the pain of his broken arm. on tuesday, driven desperate by his own sufferings, and those of the three sick children with him, one of whom was the little helen mar meek, he resolved to procure some water from the stream which ran near the house. but he had not proceeded more than a few rods before he was shot down and killed instantly. the same day, a mr. young, from the saw-mill, was also killed. in the course of the week, mr. bulee, who was sick over at the mansion, was brutally murdered. meanwhile the female captives and children were enduring such agony as seldom falls to the lot of humanity to suffer. compelled to work for the indians, their feelings were continually harrowed up by the terrible sights which everywhere met their eyes in going back and forth between the houses, in carrying water from the stream, or moving in any direction whatever. for the dead were not removed until the setting in of decay made it necessary to the indians themselves. the goods belonging to the mission were taken from the store-room, and the older women ordered to make them up into clothing for the indians. the buildings were plundered of everything which the indians coveted; all the rest of their contents that could not be made useful to themselves were destroyed. those of the captives who were sick were not allowed proper attention, and in a day or two helen mar meek died of neglect. thus passed four or five days. on saturday a new horror was added to the others. the savages began to carry off the young women for wives. three were thus dragged away to indian lodges to suffer tortures worse than death. one young girl, a daughter of mr. kimble, was taken possession of by the murderer of her father, who took daily delight in reminding her of that fact, and when her sorrow could no longer be restrained, only threatened to exchange her for another young girl who was also a wife by compulsion. miss bulee, the eldest of the young women at the mission, and who was a teacher in the mission school, was taken to the umatilla, to the lodge of _five-crows_. as has before been related, there was a house on the umatilla belonging to _tan-i-tan_, in which were residing at this time two catholic priests--the vicar-general brouillet, and blanchet, bishop of walla-walla. to this house miss bulee applied for protection, and was refused, whether from fear, or from the motives subsequently attributed to them by some protestant writers in oregon, is not known to any but themselves. the only thing certain about it is, that miss bulee was allowed to be violently dragged from their presence every night, to return to them weeping in the morning, and to have her entreaties for their assistance answered by assurances from them that the wisest course for her was to submit. and this continued for more than two weeks, until the news of mr. ogden's arrival at walla-walla became known, when miss bulee was told that if _five-crows_ would not allow her to remain at their house altogether, she must remain at the lodge of _five-crows_ without coming to their house at all, well knowing what _five-crows_ would do, but wishing to have miss bulee's action seem voluntary, from shame perhaps, at their own cowardice. yet the reason they gave ought to go for all it is worth--that they being priests could not have a woman about their house. in this unhappy situation did the female captives spend three most miserable weeks. in the meantime the mission at lapwai had been broken up, but not destroyed, nor had any one suffered death as was at first feared. the intelligence of the massacre at waiilatpu was first conveyed to mrs. spalding by a mr. camfield, who at the breaking out of the massacre, fled with his wife and children to a small room in the attic of the mansion, from the window of which he was able to behold the scenes which followed. when night came mr. camfield contrived to elude observation and descend into the yard, where he encountered a french canadian long in the employ of dr. whitman, and since suspected to have been privy to the plan of the murders. to him mr. camfield confided his intention to escape, and obtained a promise that a horse should be brought to a certain place at a certain time for his use. but the canadian failing to appear with his horse, mr. c. set out on foot, and under cover of night, in the direction of the lapwai mission. he arrived in the nez perce country on thursday. on the following day he came upon a camp of these people, and procured from them a guide to lapwai, without, however, speaking of what had occurred at waiilatpu. the caution of mr. camfield relates to a trait of indian character which the reader of indian history must bear in mind, that is, the close relationship and identity of feeling of allied tribes. why he did not inform the nez perces of the deed done by their relatives, the cayuses, was because in that case he would have expected them to have sympathized with their allies, even to the point of making him a prisoner, or of taking his life. it is this fact concerning the indian character, which alone furnishes an excuse for the conduct of mr. mcbean and the catholic priests. upon it mr. camfield acted, making no sign of fear, nor betraying any knowledge of the terrible matter on his mind to the nez perces. on saturday afternoon mr. c. arrived at mrs. spalding's house and dismissed his guide with the present of a buffalo robe. when he was alone with mrs. spalding he told his unhappy secret. it was then that the strength and firmness of mrs. spalding's character displayed itself in her decisive action. well enough she knew the close bond between the nez perces and cayuses, and also the treachery of the indian character. but she saw that if affairs were left to shape themselves as mr. camfield entreated they might be left to do, putting off the evil day,--that when the news came from the cayuses, there would be an outbreak. the only chance of averting this danger was to inform the chiefs most attached to her, at once, and throw herself and her family upon their mercy. her resolution was taken not an hour too soon. two of the chiefs most relied upon happened to be at the place that very afternoon, one of whom was called _jacob_, and the other _eagle_. to these two mrs. spalding confided the news without delay, and took counsel of them. according to her hopes, they assumed the responsibility of protecting her. one of them went to inform his camp, and give them orders to stand by mrs. s., while the other carried a note to mr. craig, one of our rocky mountain acquaintances, who lived ten miles from the mission. _jacob_ and _eagle_, with two other friendly chiefs, decided that mrs. s. must go to their camp near mr. craig's; because in case the cayuses came to the mission as was to be expected, she would be safer with them. mrs. s. however would not consent to make the move on the sabbath, but begged to be allowed to remain quiet until monday. late saturday evening mr. craig came down; and mrs. spalding endeavored with his assistance to induce the indians to carry an express to cimikain in the country of the spokanes, where messrs. walker and eells had a station. not an indian could be persuaded to go. an effort, also, was made by the heroic and suffering wife and mother, to send an express to waiilatpu to learn the fate of her daughter, and if possible of her husband. but the indians were none of them inclined to go. they said, without doubt all the women and children were slain. that mr. spalding was alive no one believed. the reply of mrs. s. to their objections was that she could not believe that they were her friends if they would not undertake this journey, for the relief of her feelings under such circumstances. at length _eagle_ consented to go; but so much opposed were the others to having anything done which their relations, the cayuses, might be displeased with, that it was nearly twenty-four hours before _eagle_ got leave to go. on monday morning a nez perce arrived from waiilatpu with the news of what the cayuses had done. with him were a number of indians from the camp where mr. camfield had stopped for a guide, all eager for plunder, and for murder too, had not they found mrs. spalding protected by several chiefs. her removal to their camp probably saved her from the fate of mrs. whitman. among those foremost in plundering the mission buildings at lapwai were some of the hitherto most exemplary indians among the nez perces. even the chief, first in authority after ellis, who was absent, was prominent in these robberies. for eight years had this chief, joseph, been a member of the church at lapwai, and sustained a good reputation during that time. how bitter must have been the feelings of mrs. spalding, who had a truly devoted missionary heart, when she beheld the fruit of her life's labor turned to ashes in her sight as it was by the conduct of joseph and his family. shortly after the removal of mrs. spalding, and the pillaging of the buildings, mr. spalding arrived at lapwai from his long and painful journey during which he had wandered much out of his way, and suffered many things. his appearance was the signal for earnest consultations among the nez perces who were not certain that they might safely give protection to him without the consent of the cayuses. to his petition that they should carry a letter express to fort colville or fort walla-walla, they would not consent. their reason for refusing seemed to be a fear that such a letter might be answered by an armed body of americans, who would come to avenge the deaths of their countrymen. to deprive them of this suspicion, mr. spalding told them that as he had been robbed of everything, he had no means of paying them for their services to his family, and that it was necessary to write to walla-walla for blankets, and to the umatilla for his horses. he assured them that he would write to his countrymen to keep quiet, and that they had nothing to fear from the americans. the truth was, however, that he had forwarded through brouillet, a letter to gov. abernethy asking for help which could only come into that hostile country armed and equipped for war. late in the month of december there arrived in oregon city to be delivered to the governor, sixty-two captives, bought from the cayuses and nez perces by hudson's bay blankets and goods; and obtained at that price by hudson's bay influence. "no other power on earth," says joe meek, the american, "could have rescued those prisoners from the hands of the indians;" and no man better than mr. meek understood the indian character, or the hudson's bay company's power over them. the number of victims to the waiilatpu massacre was fourteen. none escaped who had not to mourn a father, brother, son, or friend. if "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church," there ought to arise on the site of waiilatpu a generation of extraordinary piety. as for the people for whom a noble man and woman, and numbers of innocent persons were sacrificed, they have returned to their traditions; with the exception of the nez perces, who under the leadership of their old teacher mr. spalding, have once more resumed the pursuits of civilized and christianized nations. the description of waiilatpu at the present time given on the following page, is from "_all over oregon and washington_" by the author of this book. "waiilatpu is just that--a creek-bottom--the creeks on either side of it fringed with trees; higher land shutting out the view in front; isolation and solitude the most striking features of the place. yet here came a man and a woman to live and to labor among the savages, when all the old oregon territory was an indian country. here stood the station erected by them: _adobe_ houses, a mill, a school-house for the indians, shops, and all the necessary appurtenances of an isolated settlement. nothing remains to-day but mounds of earth, into which the _adobes_ were dissolved by weather, after burning. "a few rods away, on the side of the hill, is a different mound: the common grave of fourteen victims of savage superstition, jealousy, and wrath. it is roughly inclosed by a board fence, and has not a shrub or a flower to disguise its terrible significance. the most affecting reminders of wasted effort which remain on the old mission-grounds are the two or three apple-trees which escaped the general destruction, and the scarlet poppies which are scattered broadcast through the creek-bottom near the houses. sadly significant it is that the flower whose evanescent bloom is the symbol of unenduring joys, should be the only tangible witness left of the womanly tastes and labors of the devoted missionary who gave her life a sacrifice to ungrateful indian savagery. "the place is occupied, at present, by one of dr. whitman's early friends and co-laborers, who claimed the mission-ground, under the donation act, and who was first and most active in founding the seminary to the memory of a christian gentleman and martyr. on the identical spot where stood the doctor's residence, now stands the more modern one of his friend; and he seems to take a melancholy pleasure in keeping in remembrance the events of that unhappy time, which threw a gloom over the whole territory west of the rocky mountains." chapter xxxiii. - . when the contents of mr. douglas' letter to the governor became known to the citizens of the wallamet settlement, the greatest excitement prevailed. on the reading of that letter, and those accompanying it, before the house, a resolution was immediately introduced authorizing the governor to raise a company of riflemen, not to exceed fifty in number, to occupy and hold the mission station at the dalles, until a larger force could be raised, and such measures adopted as the government might think advisable. this resolution being sent to the governor without delay, received his approval, when the house adjourned. a large meeting of the citizens was held that evening, which was addressed by several gentlemen, among whom was meek, whose taste for indian fighting was whetted to keenness by the aggravating circumstances of the waiilatpu massacre, and the fact that his little helen mar was among the captives. impatient as was meek to avenge the murders, he was too good a mountain-man to give any rash advice. all that could be done under the existing circumstances was to trust to the hudson's bay company for the rescue of the prisoners, and to take such means for defending the settlements as the people in their unarmed condition could devise. the legislature undertook the settlement of the question of ways and means. to raise money for the carrying out of the most important measures immediately, was a task which after some consideration was entrusted to three commissioners; and by these commissioners letters were addressed to the hudson's bay company, the superintendent of the methodist mission, and to the "merchants and citizens of oregon." the latter communication is valuable as fully explaining the position of affairs at that time in oregon. it is dated dec. th, and was as follows: gentlemen:--you are aware that the undersigned have been charged by the legislature of our provisional government with the difficult duty of obtaining the necessary means to arm, equip, and support in the field a force sufficient to obtain full satisfaction of the cayuse indians, for the late massacre at waiilatpu, and to protect the white population of our common country from further aggression. in furtherance of this object they have deemed it their duty to make immediate application to the merchants and citizens of the country for the requisite assistance. though clothed with the power to pledge, to the fullest extent, the faith and means of the present government of oregon, they do not consider this pledge the only security to those who, in this distressing emergency, may extend to the people of this country the means of protection and redress. without claiming any special authority from the government of the united states to contract a debt to be liquidated by that power, yet, from all precedents of like character in the history of our country, the undersigned feel confident that the united states government will regard the murder of the late dr. whitman and his lady, as a national wrong, and will fully justify the people of oregon in taking active measures to obtain redress for that outrage, and for their protection from further aggression. the right of self-defence is tacitly acknowledged to every body politic in the confederacy to which we claim to belong, and in every case similar to our own, within our knowledge, the general government has promptly assumed the payment of all liabilities growing out of the measures taken by the constituted authorities, to protect the lives and property of those who reside within the limits of their districts. if the citizens of the states and territories, east of the rocky mountains, are justified in promptly acting in such emergencies, who are under the immediate protection of the general government, there appears no room for doubt that the lawful acts of the oregon government will receive a like approval. though the indians of the columbia have committed a great outrage upon our fellow citizens passing through their country, and residing among them, and their punishment for these murders may, and ought to be, a prime object with every citizen of oregon, yet, as that duty more particularly devolves upon the government of the united states, and admits of delay, we do not make this the strongest ground upon which to found our earnest appeal to you for pecuniary assistance. it is a fact well known to every person acquainted with the indian character, that, by passing silently over their repeated thefts, robberies, and murders of our fellow-citizens, they have been emboldened to the commission of the appalling massacre at waiilatpu. they call us women, destitute of the hearts and courage of men, and if we allow this wholesale murder to pass by as former aggressions, who can tell how long either life or property will be secure in any part of this country, or what moment the willamette will be the scene of blood and carnage. the officers of our provisional government have nobly performed their duty. none can doubt the readiness of the patriotic sons of the west to offer their personal services in defence of a cause so righteous. so it now rests with you, gentlemen, to say whether our rights and our fire-sides shall be defended, or not. hoping that none will be found to falter in so high and so sacred a duty, we beg leave, gentlemen, to subscribe ourselves, your servants and fellow-citizens, jesse applegate, a.l. lovejoy, geo. l. curry, _commissioners_. a similar letter had been addressed to the hudson's bay company, and to the methodist mission. from each of these sources such assistance was obtained as enabled the colony to arm and equip the first regiment of oregon riflemen, which in the month of january proceeded to the cayuse country. the amount raised, however, was very small, being less than five thousand dollars, and it became imperatively necessary that the government of the united states should be called upon to extend its aid and protection to the loyal but distressed young territory. in view of this necessity it was resolved in the legislature to send a messenger to carry the intelligence of the massacre to gov. mason of california, and through him to the commander of the united states squadron in the pacific, that a vessel of war might be sent into the columbia river, and arms and ammunition borrowed for the present emergency, from the nearest arsenal. for this duty was chosen jesse applegate, esq., a gentleman who combined in his character and person the ability of the statesman with the sagacity and strength of the pioneer. mr. applegate, with a small party of brave men, set out in midwinter to cross the mountains into california, but such was the depth of snow they encountered that traveling became impossible, even after abandoning their horses, and they were compelled to return. the messenger elected to proceed to the united states was joseph l. meek, whose rocky mountain experiences eminently fitted him to encounter the dangers of such a winter journey, and whose manliness, firmness, and ready wit stood him instead of statesmanship. on the th december meek resigned his seat in the house in order to prepare for the discharge of his duty as messenger to the united states. on the th of january, armed with his credentials from the oregon legislature, and bearing dispatches from that body and the governor to the president, he at length set out on the long and perilous expedition, having for traveling companions mr. john owens, and mr. george ebbarts--the latter having formerly been a rocky mountain man, like himself. at the dalles they found the first regiment of oregon riflemen, under major lee, of the newly created army of oregon. from the reports which the dalles indians brought in of the hostility of the indians beyond the des chutes river it was thought best not to proceed before the arrival of the remainder of the army, when all the forces would proceed at once to waiilatpu. owing to various delays, the army, consisting of about five hundred men, under colonel gilliam, did not reach the dalles until late in january, when the troops proceeded at once to the seat of war. the reports concerning the warlike disposition of the indians proved to be correct. already, the wascopams or dalles indians had begun robbing the mission at that place, when colonel lee's arrival among them with troops had compelled them to return the stolen property. as the army advanced they found that all the tribes above the dalles were holding themselves prepared for hostilities. at well springs, beyond the des chutes river, they were met by a body of about six hundred indians to whom they gave battle, soon dispersing them, the superior arms and equipments of the whites tending to render timid those tribes yet unaccustomed to so superior an enemy. from thence to waiilatpu the course of the army was unobstructed. in the meantime the captives had been given up to the hudson's bay company, and full particulars of the massacre were obtained by the army, with all the subsequent abuses and atrocities suffered by the prisoners. the horrible details were not calculated to soften the first bitterness of hatred which had animated the volunteers on going into the field. nor was the appearance of an armed force in their midst likely to allay the hostile feelings with which other causes had inspired the indians. had not the captives already been removed out of the country, no influence, not even that of the hudson's bay company, could have prevailed to get them out of the power of their captors then. indeed, in order to treat with the cayuses in the first place, mr. ogden had been obliged to promise peace to the indians, and now they found instead of peace, every preparation for war. however, as the army took no immediate action, but only remained in their country to await the appearance of the commissioners appointed by the legislature of oregon to hold a council with the chiefs of the various tribes, the cayuses were forced to observe the outward semblance of amity while these councils were pending. arrived at waiilatpu, the friends and acquaintances of dr. whitman were shocked to find that the remains of the victims were still unburied, although a little earth had been thrown over them. meek, to whom, ever since his meeting with her in the train of the fur-trader, mrs. whitman had seemed all that was noble and captivating, had the melancholy satisfaction of bestowing, with others, the last sad rite of burial upon such portions of her once fair person as murder and the wolves had not destroyed. some tresses of golden hair were severed from the brow so terribly disfigured, to be given to her friends in the wallamet as a last and only memorial. among the state documents at salem, oregon, may still be seen one of these relics of the waiilatpu tragedy. not only had meek to discover and inter the remains of dr. and mrs. whitman, but also of his little girl, who was being educated at the mission, with a daughter of his former leader, bridger. this sad duty performed, he immediately set out, escorted by a company of one hundred men under adjutant wilcox, who accompanied him as far as the foot of the blue mountains. here the companies separated, and meek went on his way to washington. chapter xxxiv. . meek's party now consisted of himself, ebbarts, owens, and four men, who being desirous of returning to the states took this opportunity. however, as the snow proved to be very deep on the blue mountains, and the cold severe, two of these four volunteers became discouraged and concluded to remain at fort boise, where was a small trading post of the hudson's bay company. in order to avoid trouble with the indians he might meet on the western side of the rocky mountains, meek had adopted the red belt and canadian cap of the employees of the hudson's bay company; and to this precaution was owing the fact of his safe passage through the country now all infected with hostility caught from the cayuses. about three days' travel beyond fort boise, the party met a village of bannack indians, who at once made warlike demonstrations; but on seeing meek's costume, and receiving an invitation to hold a 'talk', desisted, and received the travelers in a friendly manner. meek informed the chief, with all the gravity which had won for him the name of "_shiam shuspusia_" among the crows in former years, that he was going on the business of the hudson's bay company to fort hall; and that thomas mckay was a day's march behind with a large trading party, and plenty of goods. on the receipt of this good news, the chief ordered his braves to fall back, and permit the party to pass. yet, fearing the deception might be discovered, they thought it prudent to travel day and night until they reached fort hall. at this post of the hudson's bay company, in charge of mr. grant, they were kindly received, and stopped for a few hours of rest. mr. grant being absent, his wife provided liberally for the refreshment of the party, who were glad to find themselves even for a short interval under a roof, beside a fire and partaking of freshly cooked food. but they permitted themselves no unnecessary delay. before night they were once more on their way, though snow had now commenced to fall afresh, rendering the traveling very difficult. for two days they struggled on, their horses floundering in the soft drifts, until further progress in that manner became impossible. the only alternative left was to abandon their horses and proceed on snow-shoes, which were readily constructed out of willow sticks. taking only a blanket and their rifles, and leaving the animals to find their way back to fort hall, the little party pushed on. meek was now on familiar ground, and the old mountain spirit which had once enabled him to endure hunger, cold, and fatigue without murmuring, possessed him now. it was not without a certain sense of enjoyment that he found himself reduced to the necessity of shooting a couple of pole-cats to furnish a supper for himself and party. how long the enjoyment of feeling want would have lasted is uncertain, but probably only long enough to whet the appetite for plenty. to such a point had the appetites of all the party been whetted, when, after several days of scarcity and toil, followed by nights of emptiness and cold, meek had the agreeable surprise of falling in with an old mountain comrade on the identical ground of many a former adventure, the head-waters of bear river. this man, whom meek was delighted to meet, was peg-leg smith, one of the most famous of many well-known mountain-men. he was engaged in herding cattle in the valley of thomas' fork, where the tall grass was not quite buried under snow, and had with him a party of ten men. meek was as cordially received by his former comrade as the unbounded hospitality of mountain manners rendered it certain he would be. a fat cow was immediately sacrificed, which, though not buffalo meat, as in former times it would have been, was very good beef, and furnished a luxurious repast to the pole-cat eaters of the last several days. smith's camp did not lack the domestic element of women and children, any more than had the trapper's camps in the flush times of the fur-trade. therefore, seeing that the meeting was most joyful, and full of reminiscences of former winter camps, smith thought to celebrate the occasion by a grand entertainment. accordingly, after a great deal of roast beef had been disposed of, a dance was called for, in which white men and indian women joined with far more mirth and jollity than grace or ceremony. thus passed some hours of the night, the bearer of dispatches seizing, in true mountain style, the passing moment's pleasure, so long as it did not interfere with the punctilious discharge of his duty. and to the honor of our hero be it said, nothing was ever allowed to interfere with that. refreshed and provided with rations for a couple of days, the party started on again next morning, still on snow-shoes, and traveled up bear river to the head-waters of green river, crossing from the muddy fork over to fort bridger, where they arrived very much fatigued but quite well in little more than three days' travel. here again it was meek's good fortune to meet with his former leader, bridger, to whom he related what had befallen him since turning pioneer. the meeting was joyful on both sides, clouded only by the remembrance of what had brought it about, and the reflection that both had a personal wrong to avenge in bringing about the punishment of the cayuse murderers. once more meek's party were generously fed, and furnished with such provisions as they could carry about their persons. in addition to this, bridger presented them with four good mules, by which means the travelers were mounted four at a time, while the fifth took exercise on foot; so that by riding or walking, turn about, they were enabled to get on very well as far as the south pass. here again for some distance the snow was very deep, and two of their mules were lost in it. their course lay down the sweetwater river, past many familiar hunting and camping grounds, to the platte river. owing to the deep snows, game was very scarce, and a long day of toil was frequently closed by a supperless sleep under shelter of some rock or bank, with only a blanket for cover. at red buttes they were so fortunate as to find and kill a single buffalo, which, separated from the distant herd, was left by providence in the path of the famished travelers. on reaching the platte river they found the traveling improved, as well as the supply of game, and proceeded with less difficulty as far as fort laramie, a trading post in charge of a french trader named papillion. here again fresh mules were obtained, and the little party treated in the most hospitable manner. in parting from his entertainer, meek was favored with this brief counsel: "there is a village of sioux, of about six hundred lodges, a hundred miles from here. your course will bring you to it. look out for yourself, and don't make a gray muss of it!"--which latter clause referred to the affair of , when the sioux had killed the indian escort of mr. gray. when the party arrived at ash hollow, which they meant to have passed in the night, on account of the sioux village, the snow was again falling so thickly that the party had not perceived their nearness to the village until they were fairly in the midst of it. it was now no safer to retreat than to proceed; and after a moment's consultation, the word was given to keep on. in truth, meek thought it doubtful whether the sioux would trouble themselves to come out in such a tempest, and if they did so, that the blinding snow-fall was rather in his favor. thus reasoning, he was forcing his mule through the drifts as rapidly as the poor worried animal could make its way, when a head was protruded from a lodge door, and "hallo, major!" greeted his ear in an accent not altogether english. on being thus accosted, the party came to a halt, and meek was invited to enter the lodge, with his friends. his host on this occasion was a french trader named le bean, who, after offering the hospitalities of the lodge, and learning who were his guests, offered to accompany the party a few miles on its way. this he did, saying by way of explanation of this act of courtesy, "the sioux are a bad people; i thought it best to see you safe out of the village." receiving the thanks of the travelers, he turned back at night-fall, and they continued on all night without stopping to camp, going some distance to the south of their course before turning east again, in order to avoid any possible pursuers. without further adventures, and by dint of almost constant travel, the party arrived at st. joseph, mo., in safety, in a little over two months, from portland, oregon. soon afterwards, when the circumstances of this journey became known, a steamboat built for the missouri river trade was christened the _joseph l. meek_, and bore for a motto, on her pilot-house, "the quickest trip yet," in reference both to meek's overland journey and her own steaming qualities. as meek approached the settlements, and knew that he must soon be thrown into society of the highest official grade, and be subjected to such ordeals as he dreaded far more than indian fighting, or even traveling express across a continent of snow, the subject of how he was to behave in these new and trying positions very frequently occurred to him. he, an uneducated man, trained to mountain life and manners, without money, or even clothes, with nothing to depend on but the importance of his mission and his own mother wit, he felt far more keenly than his careless appearance would suggest, the difficulties and awkwardness of his position. "i thought a great deal about it," confesses the col. joseph l. meek of to-day, "and i finally concluded that as i had never tried to act like anybody but myself, i would not make myself a fool by beginning to ape other folks now. so i said, 'joe meek you always have been, and joe meek you shall remain; go ahead, joe meek!'" in fact, it would have been rather difficult putting on fine gentleman airs, in that old worn-out hunting suit of his, and with not a dollar to bless himself. on the contrary, it needed just the devil-may-care temper which naturally belonged to our hero, to carry him through the remainder of his journey to washington. to be hungry, ill-clad, dirty, and penniless, is sufficient in itself for the subduing of most spirits; how it affected the temper of the messenger from oregon we shall now learn. when the weary little party arrived in st. joseph, they repaired to a hotel, and meek requested that a meal should be served for all, but frankly confessing that they had no money to pay. the landlord, however, declined furnishing guests of his style upon such terms, and our travelers were forced to go into camp below the town. meek now bethought himself of his letters of introduction. it chanced that he had one from two young men among the oregon volunteers, to their father in st joseph. stopping a negro who was passing his camp, he inquired whether such a gentleman was known to him; and on learning that he was, succeeded in inducing the negro to deliver the letter from his sons. this movement proved successful. in a short space of time the gentleman presented himself, and learning the situation of the party, provided generously for their present wants, and promised any assistance which might be required in future. meek, however, chose to accept only that which was imperatively needed, namely, something to eat, and transportation to some point on the river where he could take a steamer for st. louis. a portion of his party chose to remain in st. joseph, and a portion accompanied him as far as independence, whither this same st. joseph gentleman conveyed them in his carriage. while meek was stopping at independence, he was recognized by a sister, whom he had not seen for nineteen years; who, marrying and emigrating from virginia, had settled on the frontier of missouri. but he gave himself no time for family reunion and gossip. a steamboat that had been frozen up in the ice all winter, was just about starting for st. louis, and on board of this he went, with an introduction to the captain, which secured for him every privilege the boat afforded, together with the kindest attention of its officers. when the steamer arrived in st. louis, by one of those fortuitous circumstances so common in our hero's career, he was met at the landing by campbell, a rocky mountain trader who had formerly belonged to the st. louis company. this meeting relieved him of any care about his night's entertainment in st. louis, and it also had another effect--that of relieving him of any further care about the remainder of his journey; for, after hearing meek's story of the position of affairs in oregon and his errand to the united states, campbell had given the same to the newspaper reporters, and meek, like byron, waked up next morning to find himself famous. [illustration: meek as steamboat runner.] having telegraphed to washington, and received the president's order to come on, the previous evening, our hero wended his way to the levee the morning after his arrival in st. louis. there were two steamers lying side by side, both up for pittsburg, with runners for each, striving to outdo each other in securing passengers. a bright thought occurred to the moneyless envoy--he would earn his passage! walking on board one of the boats, which bore the name of _the declaration_, himself a figure which attracted all eyes by his size and outlandish dress, he mounted to the hurricane deck and began to harrangue the crowd upon the levee, in the voice of a stentor: "this way, gentlemen, if you please. come right on board the _declaration_. i am the man from oregon, with dispatches to the president of these united states, that you all read about in this morning's paper. come on board, ladies and gentlemen, if you want to hear the news from oregon. i've just come across the plains, two months from the columbia river, where the injuns are killing your missionaries. those passengers who come aboard the _declaration_ shall hear all about it before they get to pittsburg. don't stop thar, looking at my old wolf-skin cap, but just come aboard, and hear what i've got to tell!" the novelty of this sort of solicitation operated capitally. many persons crowded on board the _declaration_ only to get a closer look at this picturesque personage who invited them, and many more because they were really interested to know the news from the far off young territory which had fallen into trouble. so it chanced that the _declaration_ was inconveniently crowded on this particular morning. after the boat had got under way, the captain approached his roughest looking cabin passenger and inquired in a low tone of voice if he were really and truly the messenger from oregon. "thar's what i've got to show for it;" answered meek, producing his papers. "well, all i have to say is, mr. meek, that you are the best runner this boat ever had; and you are welcome to your passage ticket, and anything you desire besides." finding that his bright thought had succeeded so well, meek's spirit rose with the occasion, and the passengers had no reason to complain that he had not kept his word. before he reached wheeling his popularity was immense, notwithstanding the condition of his wardrobe. at cincinnati he had time to present a letter to the celebrated doctor ----, who gave him another, which proved to be an 'open sesame' wherever he went thereafter. on the morning of his arrival in wheeling it happened that the stage which then carried passengers to cumberland, where they took the train for washington, had already departed. elated by his previous good fortune our ragged hero resolved not to be delayed by so trivial a circumstance; but walking pompously into the stage office inquired, with an air which must have smacked strongly of the mock-heroic, if he "could have a stage for cumberland?" the nicely dressed, dignified elderly gentleman who managed the business of the office, regarded the man who proffered this modest request for a moment in motionless silence, then slowly raising the spectacles over his eyes to a position on his forehead, finished his survey with unassisted vision. somewhat impressed by the manner in which meek bore this scrutiny, he ended by demanding "who are you?" tickled by the absurdity of the tableau they were enacting, meek straightened himself up to his six feet two, and replied with an air of superb self assurance-- "i am envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary from the republic of oregon to the court of the united states!" after a pause in which the old gentleman seemed to be recovering from some great surprise, he requested to see the credentials of this extraordinary envoy. still more surprised he seemed on discovering for himself that the personage before him was really a messenger from oregon to the government of the united states. but the effect was magical. in a moment the bell-rope was pulled, and in an incredibly short space of time a coach stood at the door ready to convey the waiting messenger on his way to washington. in the meantime in a conversation with the stage agent, meek had explained more fully the circumstances of his mission, and the agent had become much interested. on parting, meek received a ticket to the relay house, with many expressions of regret from the agent that he could ticket him no farther. "but it is all the same," said he; "you are sure to go through." "or run a train off the track," rejoined meek, as he was bowed out of the office. it happened that there were some other passengers waiting to take the first stage, and they crowded into this one, glad of the unexpected opportunity, but wondering at the queer looking passenger to whom the agent was so polite. this scarcely concealed curiosity was all that was needed to stimulate the mad-cap spirits of our so far "conquering hero." putting his head out of the window just at the moment of starting, he electrified everybody, horses included, by the utterance of a war-whoop and yell that would have done credit to a wild camanche. satisfied with the speed to which this demoniac noise had excited the driver's prancing steeds, he quietly ensconced himself in his corner of the coach and waited for his fellow passengers to recover from their stunned sensations. when their complete recovery had been effected, there followed the usual questioning and explanations, which ended in the inevitable lionizing that was so much to the taste of this sensational individual. on the cars at cumberland, and at the eating-houses, the messenger from oregon kept up his sensational character, indulging in alternate fits of mountain manners, and again assuming a disproportionate amount of grandeur; but in either view proving himself very amusing. by the time the train reached the relay house, many of the passengers had become acquainted with meek, and were prepared to understand and enjoy each new phase of his many-sided comicality. the ticket with which the stage agent presented him, dead-headed him only to this point. here again he must make his poverty a jest, and joke himself through to washington. accordingly when the conductor came through the car in which he, with several of his new acquaintances were sitting, demanding tickets, he was obliged to tap his blanketed passenger on the shoulder to attract his attention to the "ticket, sir!" "_ha ko any me ca, hanch?_" said meek, starting up and addressing him in the snake tongue. "ticket, sir!" repeated the conductor, staring. "_ka hum pa, hanch?_" returned meek, assuming a look which indicated that english was as puzzling to him, as snake to other people. finding that his time would be wasted on this singular passenger, the conductor went on through the train; returning after a time with a fresh demand for his ticket. but meek sustained his character admirably, and it was only through the excessive amusement of the passengers that the conductor suspected that he was being made the subject of a practical joke. at this stage of affairs it was privately explained to him who and what his waggish customer was, and tickets were no more mentioned during the journey. on the arrival of the train at washington, the heart of our hero became for a brief moment of time "very little." he felt that the importance of his mission demanded some dignity of appearance--some conformity to established rules and precedents. but of the latter he knew absolutely nothing; and concerning the former, he realized the absurdity of a dignitary clothed in blankets and a wolf-skin cap. 'joe meek i must remain,' said he to himself, as he stepped out of the train, and glanced along the platform at the crowd of porters with the names of their hotels on their hat-bands. learning from inquiry that coleman's was the most fashionable place, he decided that to coleman's he would go, judging correctly that it was best to show no littleness of heart even in the matter of hotels. chapter xxxv. . when meek arrived at coleman's it was the dinner hour, and following the crowd to the dining saloon, he took the first seat he came to, not without being very much stared at. he had taken his cue and the staring was not unexpected, consequently not so embarrassing as it might otherwise have been. a bill of fare was laid beside his plate. turning to the colored waiter who placed it there, he startled him first by inquiring in a low growling voice-- "what's that boy?" "bill of fare, sah," replied the "boy," who recognized the southerner in the use of that one word. "read!" growled meek again. "the people in _my_ country can't read." though taken by surprise, the waiter, politely obedient, proceeded to enumerate the courses on the bill of fare. when he came to game---- "stop thar, boy!" commanded meek, "what kind of game?" "small game, sah." "fetch me a piece of antelope," leaning back in his chair with a look of satisfaction on his face. "got none of that sah; don't know what that ar' sah." "don't know!" with a look of pretended surprise. "in _my_ country antelope and deer ar' small game; bear and buffalo ar' large game. i reckon if you haven't got one, you haven't got the other, either. in that case you may fetch me some beef." the waiter disappeared grinning, and soon returned with the customary thin and small cut, which meek eyed at first contemptuously, and then accepting it in the light of a sample swallowed it at two mouthfuls, returning his plate to the waiter with an approving smile, and saying loud enough to be overheard by a score of people---- "boy, that will do. fetch me about four pounds of the same kind." by this time the blanketed beef-eater was the recipient of general attention, and the "boy" who served him comprehending with that quickness which distinguishes servants, that he had no ordinary backwoodsman to deal with, was all the time on the alert to make himself useful. people stared, then smiled, then asked each other "who is it?" loud enough for the stranger to hear. meek looked neither to the right nor to the left, pretending not to hear the whispering. when he had finished his beef, he again addressed himself to the attentive "boy." "that's better meat than the old mule i eat in the mountains." upon this remark the whispering became more general, and louder, and smiles more frequent. "what have you got to drink, boy?" continued meek, still unconscious. "isn't there a sort of wine called--some kind of _pain_?" "champagne, sah?" "that's the stuff, i reckon; bring me some." while meek drank his champagne, with an occasional aside to his faithful attendant, people laughed and wondered "who the devil it was." at length, having finished his wine, and overhearing many open inquiries as to his identity, the hero of many bear-fights slowly arose, and addressing the company through the before-mentioned "boy," said: "you want to know who i am?" "if you please, sah; yes, if you please, sah, for the sake of these gentlemen present," replied the "boy," answering for the company. "wall then," proclaimed meek with a grandiloquent air quite at variance with his blanket coat and unkempt hair, yet which displayed his fine person to advantage, "i am envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary from the republic of oregon to the court of the united states!" with that he turned and strode from the room. he had not proceeded far, however, before he was overtaken by a party of gentlemen in pursuit. senator underwood of kentucky immediately introduced himself, calling the envoy by name, for the dispatch from st. louis had prepared the president and the senate for meek's appearance in washington, though it had not advised them of his style of dress and address. other gentlemen were introduced, and questions followed questions in rapid succession. when curiosity was somewhat abated, meek expressed a wish to see the president without delay. to underwood's question as to whether he did not wish to make his toilet before visiting the white house, his reply was, "business first, and toilet afterwards." "but," said underwood, "even your business can wait long enough for that." "no, that's your mistake, senator, and i'll tell you why: i can't dress, for two reasons, both good ones. i've not got a cent of money, nor a second suit of clothes." the generous kentuckian offered to remove the first of the objections on the spot, but meek declined. "i'll see the president first, and hear what he has to say about my mission." then calling a coach from the stand, he sprang into it, answering the driver's question of where he would be taken, with another inquiry. "whar should a man of _my_ style want to go?--to the white house, of course!" and so was driven away amid the general laughter of the gentlemen in the portico at coleman's, who had rather doubted his intention to pay his respects to the president in his dirty blankets. he was admitted to the presidential mansion by a mulatto of about his own age, with whom he remembered playing when a lad, for it must be remembered that the meeks and polks were related, and this servant had grown up in the family. on inquiring if he could see the president, he was directed to the office of the private secretary, knox walker, also a relative of meek's on the mother's side. on entering he found the room filled with gentlemen waiting to see the president, each when his turn to be admitted should arrive. the secretary sat reading a paper, over the top of which he glanced but once at the new comer, to ask him to be seated. but meek was not in the humor for sitting. he had not traveled express for more than two months, in storm and cold, on foot and on horseback, by day and by night, with or without food, as it chanced, to sit down quietly now and wait. so he took a few turns up and down the room, and seeing that the secretary glanced at him a little curiously, stopped and said: "i should like to see the president immediately. just tell him if you please that there is a gentleman from oregon waiting to see him on very important business." at the word _oregon_, the secretary sprang up, dashed his paper to the ground, and crying out "uncle joe!" came forward with both hands extended to greet his long lost relative. "take care, knox! don't come too close," said meek stepping back, "i'm ragged, dirty, and--lousy." [illustration: "take care, knox."] but walker seized his cousin's hand, without seeming fear of the consequences, and for a few moments there was an animated exchange of questions and answers, which meek at last interrupted to repeat his request to be admitted to the president without delay. several times the secretary turned to leave the room, but as often came back with some fresh inquiry, until meek fairly refused to say another word, until he had delivered his dispatches. when once the secretary got away he soon returned with a request from the president for the appearance of the oregon messenger, all other visitors being dismissed for that day. polk's reception proved as cordial as walker's had been. he seized the hand of his newly found relative, and welcomed him in his own name, as well as that of messenger from the distant, much loved, and long neglected oregon. the interview lasted for a couple of hours. oregon affairs and family affairs were talked over together; the president promising to do all for oregon that he could do; at the same time he bade meek make himself at home in the presidential mansion, with true southern hospitality. but meek, although he had carried off his poverty and all his deficiencies in so brave a style hitherto, felt his assurance leaving him, when, his errand performed, he stood in the presence of rank and elegance, a mere mountain-man in ragged blankets, whose only wealth consisted of an order for five hundred dollars on the methodist mission in new york, unavailable for present emergencies. and so he declined the hospitalities of the white house, saying he "could make himself at home in an indian wigwam in oregon, or among the rocky mountains, but in the residence of the chief magistrate of a great nation, he felt out of place, and ill at ease." polk, however, would listen to no refusal, and still further abashed his oregon cousin by sending for mrs. polk and mrs. walker, to make his acquaintance. says meek: "when i heard the silks rustling in the passage, i felt more frightened than if a hundred blackfeet had whooped in my ear. a mist came over my eyes, and when mrs. polk spoke to me i couldn't think of anything to say in return." but the ladies were so kind and courteous that he soon began to see a little, though not quite plainly while their visit lasted. before the interview with the president and his family was ended, the poverty of the oregon envoy became known, which led to the immediate supplying of all his wants. major polk was called in and introduced; and to him was deputed the business of seeing meek "got up" in a style creditable to himself and his relations. meek avers that when he had gone through the hands of the barber and tailor, and surveyed himself in a full length mirror, he was at first rather embarrassed, being under the impression that he was being introduced to a fashionable and decidedly good-looking gentleman, before whose overpowering style he was disposed to shrink, with the old familiar feeling of being in blankets. but meek was not the sort of man to be long in getting used to a situation however novel or difficult. in a very short time he was _au fait_ in the customs of the capital. his perfect frankness led people to laugh at his errors as eccentricities; his good looks and natural _bonhomie_ procured him plenty of admirers; while his position at the white house caused him to be envied and lionized at once. on the day following his arrival the president sent in a message to congress accompanied by the memorial from the oregon legislature and other documents appertaining to the oregon cause. meek was introduced to benton, oregon's indefatigable friend, and received from him the kindest treatment; also to dallas, president of the senate; douglas, fremont, gen. houston, and all the men who had identified themselves with the interests of the west. it should be stated that only a short time previous to the waiilatpu massacre a delegate had left oregon for washington, by ship around cape horn, who had been accredited by the governor of the colony only, and that the legislature had subsequently passed resolutions expressive of their disapproval of "secret factions," by which was meant the mission party, whose delegate mr. thornton was. it so happened that, by reason of the commander of the _portsmouth_ having assumed it to be a duty to convey mr. thornton from la paz, where through the infidelity of the captain of the _whitton_, he was stranded, he was enabled to reach the states early in the spring, arriving in fact a week or two before meek reached washington. thus oregon had two representatives, although not entitled to any: nor had either a right to a seat in either house; yet to one this courtesy was granted, while the two together controlled more powerful influences than were ever before or since brought to bear on the fate of any single territory of the united states. while mr. thornton sat among senators as a sort of consulting member or referee, but without a vote; meek had the private ear of the president, and mingled freely among members of both houses, in a social character, thereby exercising a more immediate influence than his more learned coadjutor. in the meantime our hero was making the most of his advantages. he went to dinners and champagne suppers, besides giving an occasional one of the latter. at the presidential levees he made himself agreeable to witty and distinguished ladies, answering innumerable questions about oregon and indians, generally with a veil of reserve between himself and the questioner whenever the inquiries became, as they sometimes would, disagreeably searching. again the spirit of perversity and mischief led him to make his answers so very direct as to startle or bewilder the questioner. on one occasion a lady with whom he was promenading a drawing-room at some senator's reception, admiring his handsome physique perhaps, and wondering if any woman owned it, finally ventured the question--was he married? "yes, indeed," answered meek, with emphasis, "i have a wife and several children." "oh dear," exclaimed the lady, "i should think your wife would be _so_ afraid of the indians!" "afraid of the indians!" exclaimed meek in his turn; "why, madam, she is an indian herself!" no further remarks on the subject were ventured that evening; and it is doubtful if the lady did not take his answer as a rebuke to her curiosity rather than the plain truth that it was. meek found his old comrade, kit carson, in washington, staying with fremont at the house of senator benton. kit, who had left the mountains as poor as any other of the mountain-men, had no resource at that time except the pay furnished by fremont for his services as guide and explorer in the california and oregon expeditions; where, in fact, it was carson and not fremont who deserved fame as a path-finder. however that may be, carson had as little money as men of his class usually have, and needed it as much. so long as meek's purse was supplied, as it generally was, by some member of the family at the white house, carson could borrow from him. but one being quite as careless of money as the other, they were sometimes both out of pocket at the same time. in that case the conversation was apt to take a turn like this: _carson._ meek, let me have some money, can't you? _meek._ i haven't got any money, kit. _carson._ go and get some. _meek._ ---- it, whar am i to get money from? _carson._ try the "contingent fund," can't you? truth to tell the contingent fund was made to pay for a good many things not properly chargeable to the necessary expenditures of "envoy extraordinary" like our friend from oregon. the favoritism with which our hero was everywhere received was something remarkable, even when all the circumstances of his relationship to the chief magistrate, and the popularity of the oregon question were considered. doubtless the novelty of having a bear-fighting and indian-fighting rocky mountain man to lionize, was one great secret of the furore which greeted him wherever he went; but even that fails to account fully for the enthusiasm he awakened, since mountain-men had begun to be pretty well known and understood, from the journal of fremont and other explorers. it could only have been the social genius of the man which enabled him to overcome the impediments of lack of education, and the associations of half a lifetime. but whatever was the fortunate cause of his success, he enjoyed it to the full. he took excursions about the country in all directions, petted and spoiled like any "curled darling" instead of the six-foot-two rocky mountain trapper that he was. in june he received an invitation to baltimore, tendered by the city council, and was received by that body with the mayor at its head, in whose carriage he was conveyed to monument square, to be welcomed by a thousand ladies, smiling and showering roses upon him as he passed. and kissing the roses because he could not kiss the ladies, he bowed and smiled himself past the festive groups waiting to receive the messenger from oregon. music, dining, and the parade usual to such occasions distinguished this day, which meek declares to have been the proudest of his life; not denying that the beauty of the baltimore ladies contributed chiefly to produce that impression. on the fourth of july, polk laid the corner stone of the national monument. the occasion was celebrated with great _eclat_, the address being delivered by winthrop, the military display, and the fire-works in the evening being unusually fine. in the procession general scott and staff rode on one side of the president's carriage, col. may and meek on the other,--meek making a great display of horsemanship, in which as a mountain-man he excelled. [illustration: _a mountain-man in clover._] a little later in the summer meek joined a party of congressmen who were making campaign speeches in the principal cities of the north. at lowell, mass., he visited the cotton factories, and was equally surprised at the extent of the works, and the number of young women employed in them. seeing this, the forewoman requested him to stop until noon and see the girls come out. as they passed in review before him, she asked if he had made his choice. "no," replied the gallant oregonian, "it would be impossible to choose, out of such a lot as that; i should have to take them all." if our hero, under all his gaity smothered a sigh of regret that he was not at liberty to take _one_--a woman like those with whom for the first time in his life he was privileged to associate--who shall blame him? the kind of life he was living now was something totally different to anything in the past. it opened to his comprehension delightful possibilities of what might have been done and enjoyed under other circumstances, yet which now never could be done or enjoyed, until sometimes he was ready to fly from all these allurements, and hide himself again in the rocky mountains. then again by a desperate effort, such thoughts were banished, and he rushed more eagerly than before into every pleasure afforded by the present moment, as if to make the present atone for the past and the future. the kindness of the ladies at the white house, while it was something to be grateful for, as well as to make him envied, often had the effect to disturb his tranquility by the suggestions it gave rise to. yet he was always demanding it, always accepting it. so constantly was he the attendant of his lady cousins in public and in private, riding and driving, or sauntering in the gardens of the presidential mansion, that the less favored among their acquaintances felt called upon to believe themselves aggrieved. often, as the tall form of our hero was seen with a lady on either arm promenading the gardens at evening, the question would pass among the curious but uninitiated--"who is that?" and the reply of some jealous grumbler would be--"it is that ---- rocky mountain man," so loud sometimes as to be overheard by the careless trio, who smothered a laugh behind a hat or a fan. and so passed that brief summer of our hero's life. a great deal of experience, of sight-seeing, and enjoyment had been crowded into a short few months of time. he had been introduced to and taken by the hand by the most celebrated men of the day. nor had he failed to meet with men whom he had known in the mountains and in oregon. his old employer, wilkes, who was ill in washington, sent for him to come and tell "some of those oregon lies" for his amusement, and meek, to humor him, stretched some of his good stories to the most wonderful dimensions. but from the very nature of the enjoyment it could not last long; it was too vivid and sensational for constant wear. feeling this, he began to weary of washington, and more particularly since he had for the last few weeks been stopping away from the white house. in one of his restless moods he paid a visit to polk, who detecting the state of his mind asked laughingly---- "well, meek, what do you want now?" "i want to be franked." "how long will five hundred dollars last you?" "about as many days as there ar' hundreds, i reckon." "you are shockingly extravagant, meek. where do you think all this money is to come from?" "it is not my business to know, mr. president," replied meek, laughing, "but it _is_ the business of these united states to pay the expenses of the messenger from oregon, isn't it?" "i think i will send you to the secretary of war to be franked, meek; his frank is better than mine. but no, stay; i will speak to knox about it this time. and you must not spend your money so recklessly, meek; it will not do--it will not do." meek thanked the president both for the money and the advice, but gave a champagne supper the next night, and in a week's time was as empty-handed as ever. the close of the session was at hand and nothing had been done except to talk. congress was to adjourn at noon on monday, august th, and it was now saturday the th. the friends of oregon were anxious; the two waiting oregonians nearly desperate. on this morning of the th, the friends of the bill, under benton's lead, determined upon obtaining a vote on the final passage of the bill; resolving that they would not yield to the usual motions for delay and adjournments, but that they would, if necessary, sit until twelve o'clock monday. saturday night wore away; the sabbath morning's sun arose; and at last, two hours after sunrise, a consultation was held between butler, mason, calhoun, davis, and foote, which resulted in the announcement that no further opposition would be offered to taking the vote upon the final passage of the oregon bill. the vote was then taken, the bill passed, and the weary senate adjourned, to meet again on monday for a final adjournment. chapter xxxvi. - . the long suspense ended, meek prepared to return to oregon, if not without some regrets, at the same time not unwillingly. his restless temper, and life-long habits of unrestrained freedom began to revolt against the conventionality of his position in washington. besides, in appointing officers for the new territory, polk had made him united states marshal, than which no office could have suited him better, and he was as prompt to assume the discharge of its duties, as all his life he had been to undertake any duty to which his fortunes assigned him. on the th of august, only six days after the passage of the territorial bill, he received his papers from buchanan, and set off for bedford springs, whither the family from the white house were flown to escape from the suffocating air of washington in august. he had brought his papers to be signed by polk, and being expected by the president found everything arranged for his speedy departure; polk even ordering a seat for him in the upcoming coach, by telegraph. on learning this from the president, at dinner, when the band was playing, meek turned to the leader and ordered him to play "sweet home," much to the amusement of his lady cousins, who had their own views of the sweets of a home in oregon. a hurried farewell, spoken to each of his friends separately, and oregon's new marshal was ready to proceed on his long journey toward the pacific. the occasion of polk's haste in the matter of getting meek started, was his anxiety to have the oregon government become a fact before the expiration of his term of office. the appointment of governor of the new territory had been offered to shields, and declined. another commission had been made out, appointing general joseph lane of indiana, governor of oregon, and the commission was that day signed by the president and given to meek to be delivered to lane in the shortest possible time. his last words to the marshal on parting were--"god bless you, meek. tell lane to have a territorial government organized during my administration." of the ten thousand dollars appropriated by congress "to be expended under the direction of the president, in payment for services and expenses of such persons as had been engaged by the provisional government of oregon in conveying communications to and from the united states; and for purchase of presents for such indian tribes as the peace and quiet of the country required"--thornton received two thousand six hundred dollars, meek seven thousand four hundred, and the indian tribes none. whether the president believed that the peace and quiet of the country did not require presents to be made to the indians, or whether family credit required that meek should get the lion's share, is not known. however that may be, our hero felt himself to be quite rich, and proceeded to get rid of his superfluity, as will hereafter be seen, with his customary prodigality and enjoyment of the present without regard to the future. before midnight on the day of his arrival at the springs, meek was on his way to indiana to see general lane. arriving at the newburg landing one morning at day-break, he took horse immediately for the general's residence at newburg, and presented him with his commission soon after breakfast. lane sat writing, when meek, introducing himself, laid his papers before him. "do you accept?" asked meek. "yes," answered lane. "how soon can you be ready to start?" "in fifteen minutes!" answered lane, with military promptness. three days, however, were actually required to make the necessary preparations for leaving his farm and proceeding to the most remote corner of the united states territory. at st. louis they were detained one day, waiting for a boat to leavenworth, where they expected to meet their escort. this one day was too precious to be lost in waiting by so business-like a person as our hero, who, when nothing more important was to be done generally was found trying to get rid of his money. so, on this occasion, after having disburdened himself of a small amount in treating the new governor and all his acquaintances, he entered into negotiations with a peddler who was importuning the passengers to buy everything, from a jack-knife to a silk dress. finding that nat. lane, the general's son, wanted a knife, but was disposed to beat down the price, meek made an offer for the lot of a dozen or two, and thereby prevented lane getting one at any price. not satisfied with this investment, he next made a purchase of three whole pieces of silk, at one dollar and fifty cents per yard. at this stage of the transaction general lane interfered sufficiently to inquire "what he expected to do with that stuff?" "can't tell," answered meek; "but i reckon it is worth the money." "better save your money," said the more prudent lane. but the incorrigible spendthrift only laughed, and threatened to buy out the jew's entire stock, if lane persisted in preaching economy. at st. louis, besides his son nat., lane was met by lieut. hawkins, who was appointed to the command of the escort of twenty-five riflemen, and dr. hayden, surgeon of the company. this party proceeded to leavenworth, the point of starting, where the wagons and men of hawkins' command awaited them. at this place, meek was met by a brother and two sisters who had come to look on him for the first time in many years. the two days' delay which was necessary to get the train ready for a start, afforded an opportunity for this family reunion, the last that might ever occur between its widely separated branches, new shoots from which extend at this day from virginia to alabama, and from tennessee to california and oregon. by the th of september the new government was on its way to oregon in the persons of lane and meek. the whole company of officers, men, and teamsters, numbered about fifty-five; the wagons ten; and riding-horses, an extra supply for each rider. the route taken, with the object to avoid the snows of a northern winter, was from leavenworth to santa fe, and thence down the rio grande to near el paso; thence northwesterly by tucson, in arizona; thence to the pimas village on the gila river; following the gila to its junction with the colorado, thence northwesterly again to the bay of san pedro in california. from this place the company were to proceed by ship to san francisco; and thence again by ship to the columbia river. on the santa fe trail they met the army returning from mexico, under price, and learned from them that they could not proceed with wagons beyond santa fe. the lateness of the season, although it was not attended with snow, as on the northern route it would have been, subjected the travelers nevertheless to the strong, cold winds which blow over the vast extent of open country between the missouri river and the high mountain range which forms the water-shed of the continent. it also made it more difficult to subsist the animals, especially after meeting price's army, which had already swept the country bare. on coming near santa fe, meek was riding ahead of his party, when he had a most unexpected encounter. seeing a covered traveling carriage drawn up under the shade of some trees growing beside a small stream, not far off from the trail, he resolved, with his usual love of adventure, to discover for himself the character of the proprietor. but as he drew nearer, he discovered no one, although a camp-table stood under the trees, spread with refreshments, not only of a solid, but a fluid nature. the sight of a bottle of cognac induced him to dismount, and he was helping himself to a liberal glass, when a head was protruded from a covering of blankets inside the carriage, and a heavy bass voice was heard in a polite protest: "seems to me, stranger, you are making free with my property!" "here's to you, sir," rejoined the purloiner; "it isn't often i find as good brandy as that,"--holding out the glass admiringly,--"but when i do, i make it a point of honor not to pass it." "may i inquire your name, sir?" asked the owner of the brandy, forced to smile at the good-humored audacity of his guest. "i couldn't refuse to give my name after that,"--replacing the glass on the table,--"and i now introduce myself as joseph l. meek, esq., marshal of oregon, on my way from washington to assist general lane in establishing a territorial government west of the rocky mountains." "meek!--what, not the joe meek i have heard my brothers tell so much about?" "joe meek is my name; but whar did your brothers know me?" inquired our hero, mystified in his turn. "i think you must have known captain william sublette and his brother milton, ten or twelve years ago, in the rocky mountains," said the gentleman, getting out of the carriage, and approaching meek with extended hand. a delighted recognition now took place. from solomon sublette, the owner of the carriage and the cognac, meek learned many particulars of the life and death of his former leaders in the mountains. neither of them were then living; but this younger brother, solomon, had inherited captain sublette's wife and wealth at the same time. after these explanations, mr. sublette raised the curtains of the carriage again, and assisted to descend from it a lady, whom he introduced as his wife, and who exhibited much gratification in becoming acquainted with the hero of many a tale recited to her by her former husband, captain sublette. in the midst of this pleasant exchange of reminiscences, the remainder of meek's party rode up, were introduced, and invited to regale themselves on the fine liquors with which mr. sublette's carriage proved to be well furnished. this little adventure gave our hero much pleasure, as furnishing a link between the past and present, and bringing freshly to mind many incidents already beginning to fade in his memory. at santa fe, the train stopped to be overhauled and reconstructed. the wagons having to be abandoned, their contents had to be packed on mules, after the manner of mountain or of mexican travel and transportation. this change accomplished, with as little delay as possible, the train proceeded without any other than the usual difficulties, as far as tucson, when two of the twenty-five riflemen deserted, having become suddenly enamored of liberty, in the dry and dusty region of southern arizona. lieutenant hawkins, immediately on discovering the desertion, dispatched two men, well armed, to compel their return. one of the men detailed for this duty belonged to the riflemen, but the other was an american, who, with a company of mexican packers, had joined the train at santa fe, and was acting in the capacity of pilot. in order to fit out this volunteer for the service, always dangerous, of retaking deserting soldiers, meek had lent him his colt's revolvers. it was a vain precaution, however, both the men being killed in attempting to capture the deserters; and meek's pistols were never more heard of, having fallen into the murderous hands of the runaways. drouth now began to be the serious evil with which the travelers had to contend. from the pimas villages westward, it continually grew worse, the animals being greatly reduced from the want both of food and water. at the crossing of the colorado, the animals had to be crossed over by swimming, the officers and men by rafts made of bulrushes. lane and meek being the first to be ferried over, were landed unexpectedly in the midst of a yuma village. the indians, however, gave them no trouble, and, except the little artifice of drowning some of the mules at the crossing, in order to get their flesh to eat, committed neither murders nor thefts, nor any outrage whatever. [illustration: _governor lane and marshal meek enroute to oregon._] it was quite as well for the unlucky mules to be drowned and eaten as it was for their fellows to travel on over the arid desert before them until they starved and perished, which they nearly all did. from the colorado on, the company of lieut. hawkins became thoroughly demoralized. not only would the animals persist in dying, several in a day, but the soldiers also persisted in deserting, until, by the time he reached the coast, his forlorn hope was reduced to three men. but it was not the drouth in their case which caused the desertions: it was rumors which they heard everywhere along the route, of mines of gold and silver, where they flattered themselves they could draw better pay than from uncle sam's coffers. the same difficulty from desertion harassed lieutenant-colonel loring in the following summer, when he attempted to establish a line of posts along the route to oregon, by the way of forts kearney, laramie, and through the south pass to fort hall. his mounted rifle regiment dwindled down to almost nothing. at one time, over one hundred men deserted in a body: and although he pursued and captured seventy of them, he could not keep them from deserting again at the first favorable moment. the bones of many of those gold-seeking soldiers were left on the plains, where wolves had stripped the flesh from them; and many more finally had rude burial at the hands of fellow gold-seekers: but few indeed ever won or enjoyed that for which they risked everything. on arriving at cook's wells, some distance beyond the colorado, our travelers found that the water at this place was tainted by the body of a mule which had lost its life some days before in endeavoring to get at the water. this was a painful discovery for the thirsty party to make. however, there being no water for some distance ahead, general lane boiled some of it, and made coffee of it, remarking that "maggots were more easily swallowed cooked than raw!" and here the writer, and no doubt, the reader too, is compelled to make a reflection. was the office of governor of a territory at fifteen hundred dollars a year, and indian agent at fifteen hundred more, worth a journey of over three thousand miles, chiefly by land, even allowing that there had been no maggots in the water? _quien sábe?_ not far from this locality our party came upon one hundred wagons abandoned by major graham, who had not been able to cross the desert with them. proceeding onward, the riders eventually found themselves on foot, there being only a few animals left alive to transport the baggage that could not be abandoned. so great was their extremity, that to quench their thirst the stomach of a mule was opened to get at the moisture it contained. in the horror and pain of the thirst-fever, meek renewed again the sufferings he had undergone years before in the deserts inhabited by diggers, and on the parched plains of the snake river. about the middle of january the oregon government, which had started out so gaily from fort leavenworth, arrived weary, dusty, foot-sore, famished, and suffering, at william's ranch on the santa anna river, which empties into the bay of san pedro. here they were very kindly received, and their wants ministered to. at this place meek developed, in addition to his various accomplishments, a talent for speculation. while overhauling his baggage, the knives and the silk which had been purchased of the _peddler_ in st. louis, were brought to light. no sooner did the senoritas catch a glimpse of the shining fabrics than they went into raptures over them, after the fashion of their sex. seeing the state of mind to which these raptures, if unheeded, were likely to reduce the ladies of his house, mr. williams approached meek delicately on the subject of purchase. but meek, in the first flush of speculative shrewdness declared that as he had bought the goods for his own wife, he could not find it in his heart to sell them. however, as the senoritas were likely to prove inconsolable, mr. williams again mentioned the desire of his family to be clad in silk, and the great difficulty, nay, impossibility, of obtaining the much coveted fabric in that part of the world, and accompanied his remarks with an offer of ten dollars a yard for the lot. at this magnificent offer our hero affected to be overcome by regard for the feelings of the senoritas, and consented to sell his dollar and a-half silks for ten dollars per yard. in the same manner, finding that knives were a desirable article in that country, very much wanted by miners and others, he sold out his dozen or two, for an ounce each of gold-dust, netting altogether the convenient little profit of about five hundred dollars. when gen. lane was informed of the transaction, and reminded of his objections to the original purchase, he laughed heartily. "well, meek," said he, "you were drunk when you bought them, and by ---- i think you must have been drunk when you sold them; but drunk or sober, i will own you can beat me at a bargain." such bargains, however, became common enough about this time in california, for this was the year memorable in california history, of the breaking out of the gold-fever, and the great rush to the mines which made even the commonest things worth their weight in gold-dust. proceeding to los angelos, our party, once more comfortably mounted, found traveling comparatively easy. at this place they found quartered the command of maj. graham, whose abandoned wagons had been passed at the _hornella_ on the colorado river. the town, too, was crowded with miners, men of every class, but chiefly american adventurers, drawn together from every quarter of california and mexico by the rumor of the gold discovery at sutter's fort. on arriving at san pedro, a vessel--the _southampton_, was found ready to sail. she had on board a crowd of fugitives from mexico, bound to san francisco, where they hoped to find repose from the troubles which harassed that revolutionary republic. at san francisco, meek was surprised to meet about two hundred oregonians, who on the first news of the gold discovery the previous autumn, had fled, as it is said men shall flee on the day of judgment--leaving the wheat ungathered in the fields, the grain unground in the mills, the cattle unherded on the plains, their tools and farming implements rusting on the ground--everything abandoned as if it would never more be needed, to go and seek the shining dust, which is vainly denominated "filthy lucre." the two hundred were on their way home, having all either made something, or lost their health by exposure so that they were obliged to return. but they left many more in the mines. such were the tales told in san francisco of the wonderful fortunes of some of the miners that young lane became infected with the universal fever and declared his intention to try mining with the rest. meek too, determined to risk something in gold-seeking, and as some of the teamsters who had left fort leavenworth with the company, and had come as far as san francisco, were very desirous of going to the mines, meek fitted out two or three with pack-horses, tools, and provisions, to accompany young lane. for the money expended in the outfit he was to receive half of their first year's profits. the result of this venture was three pickle-jars of gold-dust, which were sent to him by the hands of nat. lane, the following year; and which just about reimbursed him for the outlay. at san francisco, gen. lane found the u.s. sloop of war, the _st. mary's_; and meek insisted that the oregon government, which was represented in their persons, had a right to require her services in transporting itself to its proper seat. but lane, whose notions of economy extended, singularly enough, to the affairs of the general government, would not consent to the needless expenditure. meek was rebellious, and quoted thornton, by whom he was determined not to be outdone in respect of expense for transportation. lane insisted that his dignity did not require a government vessel to convey him to oregon. in short the new government was very much divided against itself, and only escaped a fall by meek's finding some one, or some others, else, on whom to play his pranks. the first one was a jew peddler who had gentlemen's clothes to sell. to him the marshal represented himself as a united states custom officer, and after frightening him with a threat of confiscating his entire stock, finally compromised with the terrified israelite by accepting a suit of clothes for himself. after enjoying the mortification of spirit which the loss inflicted on the jew, for twenty-four hours, he finally paid him for the clothes, at the same time administering a lecture upon the sin and danger of smuggling. the party which had left leavenworth for oregon nearly six months before, numbering fifty-five, now numbered only seven. of the original number two had been killed, and all the rest had deserted to go to the mines. there remained only gen. lane, meek, lieut. hawkins and hayden, surgeon, besides three soldiers. with this small company gen. lane went on board the _jeanette_, a small vessel, crowded with miners, and destined for the columbia river. as the _jeanette_ dropped down the bay, a salute was fired from the _st. mary's_ in honor of gen. lane, and appropriated to himself by marshal meek, who seems to have delighted in appropriating to himself all the honors in whatever circumstances he might be placed; the more especially too, if such assumption annoyed the general. after a tedious voyage of eighteen days the _jeanette_ arrived in the columbia river. from astoria the party took small boats for oregon city, a voyage of one hundred and twenty miles; so that it was already the d of march when they arrived at that place, and only one day was left for the organization of the territorial government before the expiration of polk's term of office. on the d of march gen. lane arrived at oregon city, and was introduced to gov. abernethy, by marshal meek. on the d, there appeared the following-- proclamation. in pursuance of an act of congress, approved the th of august, in the year of our lord , establishing a territorial government in the territory of oregon: i, joseph lane, was, on the th day of august, in the year , appointed governor in and for the territory of oregon. i have therefore thought it proper to issue this, my proclamation, making known that i have this day entered upon the discharge of the duties of my office, and by virtue thereof do declare the laws of the united states extended over, and declared to be in force in said territory, so far as the same, or any portion thereof may be applicable. given under my hand at oregon city, in the territory of oregon, this d day of march, anno domini . joseph lane. thus oregon had one day, under polk, who, take it all in all, had been a faithful guardian of her interests. in the month of august, , the _honolulu_, a vessel of one hundred and fifty tons, owned in boston, carrying a consignment of goods to a mercantile house in portland, arrived at her anchorage in the wallamet, _via_ san francisco, california. captain newell, almost before he had discharged freight, commenced buying up a cargo of flour and other provisions. but what excited the wonder of the oregonians was the fact that he also bought up all manner of tools such as could be used in digging or cutting, from a spade and pickaxe, to a pocket-knife. this singular proceeding naturally aroused the suspicions of a people accustomed to have something to suspect. a demand was made for the _honolulu's_ papers, and these not being forthcoming, it was proposed by some of the prudent ones to tie her up. when this movement was attempted, the secret came out. captain newell, holding up a bag of gold-dust before the astonished eyes of his persecutors, cried out-- "do you see that gold? ---- you, i will depopulate your country! i know where there is plenty of this stuff, and i am taking these tools where it is to be found." this was in august, the month of harvest. so great was the excitement which seized the people, that all classes of men were governed by it. few persons stopped to consider that this was the time for producers to reap golden harvests of precious ore, for the other yellow harvest of grain which was already ripe and waiting to be gathered. men left their grain standing, and took their teams from the reapers to pack their provisions and tools to the mines. some men would have gladly paid double to get back the spades, shovels, or picks, which the shrewd yankee captain had purchased from them a week previous. all implements of this nature soon commanded fabulous prices, and he was a lucky man who had a supply. chapter xxxvii. - . the territorial law of oregon combined the offices of governor and indian agent. one of the most important acts which marked lane's administration was that of securing and punishing the murderers of dr. and mrs. whitman. the indians of the cayuse tribe to whom the murderers belonged, were assured that the only way in which they could avoid a war with the whites was to deliver up the chiefs who had been engaged in the massacre, to be tried and punished according to the laws of the whites. of the two hundred indians implicated in the massacre, five were given up to be dealt with according to law. these were the five chiefs, _te-lou-i-kite_, _tam-a-has_, _klok-a-mas_, _ki-am-a-sump-kin_, and _i-sa-i-a-cha-lak-is_. these men might have made their escape; there was no imperative necessity upon them to suffer death, had they chosen to flee to the mountains. but with that strange magnanimity which the savage often shows, to the astonishment of christians, they resolved to die for their people rather than by their flight to involve them in war. early in the summer of , the prisoners were delivered up to gov. lane, and brought down to oregon city, where they were given into the keeping of the marshal. during their passage down the river, and while they were incarcerated at oregon city, their bearing was most proud and haughty. some food, more choice than their prisoner's fare, being offered to one of the chiefs at a camp of the guard, in their transit down the columbia, the proud savage rejected it with scorn. "what sort of heart have you," he asked, "that you offer food to me, whose hands are red with your brother's blood?" and this, after eleven years of missionary labor, was all the comprehension the savage nature knew of the main principle of christianity,--forgiveness, or charity toward our enemies. at oregon city, meek had many conversations with them. in all of these they gave but one explanation of their crime. they feared that dr. whitman intended, with the other whites, to take their land from them; and they were told by jo lewis, the half-breed, that the doctor's medicine was intended to kill them off quickly, in order the sooner to get possession of their country. none of them expressed any sorrow for what had been done; but one of them, _ki-am-a-sump-kin_, declared his innocence to the last. in conversations with others, curious to gain some knowledge of the savage moral nature, _te-lou-i-kite_ often puzzled these students of indian ethics. when questioned as to his motive for allowing himself to be taken, _te-lou-i-kite_ answered: "did not your missionaries tell us that christ died to save his people? so die we, to save our people!" notwithstanding the prisoners were pre-doomed to death, a regular form of trial was gone through. the prosecuting attorney for the territory, a. holbrook, conducted the prosecution: secretary pritchett, major runnels, and captain claiborne, the defence. the fee offered by the chiefs was fifty head of horses. whether it was compassion, or a love of horses which animated the defence, quite an effort was made to show that the murderers were not guilty. the presiding justice was o.c. pratt--bryant having resigned. perhaps we cannot do better than to give the marshal's own description of the trial and execution, which is as follows: "thar war a great many indictments, and a great many people in attendance at this court. the grand jury found true bills against the five indians, and they war arraigned for trial. captain claiborne led off for the defence. he foamed and ranted like he war acting a play in some theatre. he knew about as much law as one of the indians he war defending; and his gestures were so powerful that he smashed two tumblers that the judge had ordered to be filled with cold water for him. after a time he gave out mentally and physically. then came major runnels, who made a very good defence. but the marshal thought they must do better, for they would never ride fifty head of horses with them speeches. mr. pritchett closed for the defence with a very able argument; for he war a man of brains. but then followed mr. holbrook, for the prosecution, and he laid down the case so plain that the jury were convinced before they left the jury-box. when the judge passed sentence of death on them, two of the chiefs showed no terror; but the other three were filled with horror and consternation that they could not conceal. after court had adjourned, and gov. lane war gone south on some business with the rogue river indians, secretary pritchett came to me and told me that as he war now acting governor he meant to reprieve the indians. said he to me, 'now meek, i want you to liberate them indians, when you receive the order.' 'pritchett,' said i, 'so far as meek is concerned, he would do anything for you.' this talk pleased him; he said he 'war glad to hear it; and would go right off and write the reprieve.' 'but,' said i, 'pritchett, let us talk now like men. i have got in my pocket the death-warrant of them indians, signed by gov. lane. the marshal will execute them men, as certain as the day arrives.' pritchett looked surprised, and remarked--'that war not what you just said, that you would do anything for me.' said i, 'you were talking then to meek,--not to the marshal, who always does his duty.' at that he got mad and left. when the d of june, the day of execution, arrived, oregon city was thronged with people to witness it. i brought forth the five prisoners and placed them on a drop. here the chief, who always declared his innocence, _ki-am-i-sump-kin_, begged me to kill him with my knife,--for an indian fears to be hanged,--but i soon put an end to his entreaties by cutting the rope which held the drop, with my tomahawk. as i said 'the lord have mercy on your souls,' the trap fell, and the five cayuses hung in the air. three of them died instantly. the other two struggled for several minutes; the little chief, _tam-a-has_, the longest. it was he who was cruel to my little girl at the time of the massacre; so i just put my foot on the knot to tighten it, and he got quiet. after thirty-five minutes they were taken down and buried." thus terminated a tragic chapter in the history of oregon. among the services which thurston performed for the territory, was getting an appropriation of $ , , to pay the expenses of the cayuse war. from the spring of , when all the whites, except the catholic missionaries, were withdrawn from the upper country, for a period of several years, or until government had made treaties with the tribes east of the cascades, no settlers were permitted to take up land in eastern oregon. during those years, the indians, dissatisfied with the encroachments which they foresaw the whites would finally make upon their country, and incited by certain individuals who had suffered wrongs, or been punished for their own offences at the hands of the whites, finally combined, as it was supposed from the extent of the insurrection, and oregon was involved in a three years indian war, the history of which would fill a volume of considerable size. when meek returned to oregon as marshal, with his fine clothes and his newly acquired social accomplishments, he was greeted with a cordial acknowledgment of his services, as well as admiration for his improved appearance. he was generally acknowledged to be the model of a handsome marshal, when clad in his half-military dress, and placed astride of a fine horse, in the execution of the more festive duties of marshal of a procession on some patriotic occasion. but no amount of official responsibility could ever change him from a wag into a "grave and reverend seignior." no place nor occasion was sacred to him when the wild humor was on him. at this same term of court, after the conviction of the cayuse chiefs, there was a case before judge pratt, in which a man was charged with selling liquor to the indians. in these cases indian evidence was allowed, but the jury-room being up stairs, caused a good deal of annoyance in court; because when an indian witness was wanted up stairs, a dozen or more who were not wanted would follow. the judge's bench was so placed that it commanded a full view of the staircase and every one passing up or down it. a call for some witness to go before the jury was followed on this occasion, as on all others, by a general rush of the indians, who were curious to witness the proceedings. one fat old squaw had got part way up the stairs, when the marshal, full of wrath, seized her by a leg and dragged her down flat, at the same time holding the fat member so that it was pointed directly toward the judge. a general explosion followed this _pointed_ action, and the judge grew very red in the face. [illustration: meek as united states marshal.] "mr. marshal, come within the bar!" thundered the judge. meek complied, with a very dubious expression of countenance. "i must fine you fifty dollars," continued the judge; "the dignity of the court must be maintained." when court had adjourned that evening, the judge and the marshal were walking toward their respective lodgings. said meek to his honor: "why did you fine me so heavily to-day?" "i _must_ do it," returned the judge. "i must keep up the dignity of the court; i must do it, if i pay the fines myself." "and you _must_ pay all the fines you lay on the marshal, of course," answered meek. "very well," said the judge; "i shall do so." "all right, judge. as i am the proper disbursing officer, you can pay that fifty dollars to me--and i'll take it now." at this view of the case, his honor was staggered for one moment, and could only swing his cane and laugh faintly. after a little reflection, he said: "marshal, when court is called to-morrow, i shall remit your fine; but don't you let me have occasion to fine you again!" after the removal of the capital to salem, in , court was held in a new building, on which the carpenters were still at work. judge nelson, then presiding, was much put out by the noise of hammers, and sent the marshal more than once, to request the men to suspend their work during those hours when court was in session, but all to no purpose. finally, when his forbearance was quite exhausted, he appealed to the marshal for advice. "what shall i do, meek," said he, "to stop that infernal noise?" "put the workmen on the grand jury," replied meek. "summon them instantly!" returned the judge. they were summoned, and quiet secured for that term. at this same term of court, a great many of the foreign born settlers appeared, to file their intention of becoming american citizens, in order to secure the benefits of the donation law. meek was retained as a witness, to swear to their qualifications, one of which was, that they were possessed of good moral characters. the first day there were about two hundred who made declarations, meek witnessing for most of them. on the day following, he declined serving any longer. "what now?" inquired the judge; "you made no objections yesterday." "very true," replied meek; "and two hundred lies are enough for me. i swore that all those mountain-men were of 'good moral character,' and i never knew a mountain-man of that description in my life! let newell take the job for to-day." the "job" was turned over to newell; but whether the second lot was better than the first, has never transpired. during lane's administration, there was a murder committed by a party of indians at the sound, on the person of a mr. wallace. owing to the sparse settlement of the country, governor lane adopted the original measure of exporting not only the officers of the court, but the jury also, to the sound district. meek was ordered to find transportation for the court _in toto_, jury and all. boats were hired and provisioned to take the party to the cowelitz landing, and from thence to fort steilacoom, horses were hired for the land transportation. the indians accused were five in number--two chiefs and three slaves. the grand jury found a true bill against the two chiefs, and let the slaves go. so few were the inhabitants of those parts, that the marshal was obliged to take a part of the grand jury to serve on the petite jury. the form of a trial was gone through with, the judge delivered his charge, and the jury retired. it was just after night-fall when these worthies betook themselves to the jury-room. one of them curled himself up in a corner of the room, with the injunction to the others to "wake him up when they got ready to hang them ---- rascals." the rest of the party spent four or five hours betting against monte, when, being sleepy also, they waked up their associate, spent about ten minutes in arguing their convictions, and returned a verdict of "guilty of murder in the first degree." the indians were sentenced to be hung at noon on the following day, and the marshal was at work early in the morning preparing a gallows. a rope was procured from a ship lying in the sound. at half-past eleven o'clock, guarded by a company of artillery from the fort, the miserable savages were marched forth to die. a large number of indians were collected to witness the execution; and to prevent any attempt at rescue, captain hill's artillery formed a ring around the marshal and his prisoners. the execution was interrupted or delayed for some moments, on account of the frantic behavior of an indian woman, wife of one of the chiefs, whose entreaties for the life of her husband were very affecting. having exhausted all her eloquence in an appeal to the nobler feelings of the man, she finally promised to leave her husband and become his wife, if he, the marshal, would spare her lord and chief. she was carried forcibly out of the ring, and the hanging took place. when the bodies were taken down, meek spoke to the woman, telling her that now she could have her husband; but she only sullenly replied, "you have killed him, and you may bury him." chapter xxxviii. while meek was in washington, he had been dubbed with the title of colonel, which title he still bears, though during the indian war of - , it was alternated with that of major. during his marshalship he was fond of showing off his titles and authority to the discomfiture of that class of people who had "put on airs" with him in former days, when he was in his transition stage from a trapper to a united states marshal. while pratt was judge of the district court, a kidnaping case came before him. the writ of _habeas corpus_ having been disregarded by the captain of the _melvin_, who was implicated in the business, meek was sent to arrest him, and also the first mate. five of the _melvin's_ sailors were ordered to be summoned as witnesses, at the same time. meek went on board with his summons, marched forward, and called out the names of the men. every man came up as he was summoned. when they were together, meek ordered a boat lowered for their conveyance to oregon city. the men started to obey, when the captain interfered, saying that the boat should not be taken for such a purpose, as it belonged to him. "that is of no consequence at all," answered the smiling marshal. "it is a very good boat, and will suit our purpose very well. lower away, men!" the men quickly dropped the boat. as it fell, they were ordered to man it. when they were at the oars, the mate was then invited to take a seat in it, which he did, after a moment's hesitation, and glancing at his superior officer. meek then turned to the captain, and extended the same invitation to him. but he was reluctant to accept the courtesy, blustering considerably, and declaring his intention to remain where he was. meek slowly drew his revolver, all the time cool and smiling. "i don't like having to urge a gentleman too hard," he said, in a meaning tone; "but thar is an argument that few men ever resist. take a seat, captain." the captain took a seat; the idlers on shore cheered for "joe meek"--which was, after all, his most familiar title; the captain and mate went to oregon city, and were fined respectively $ and $ ; the men took advantage of being on shore to desert; and altogether, the master of the _melvin_ felt himself badly used. about the same time news was received that a british vessel was unloading goods for the hudson's bay company, somewhere on puget sound. under the new order of affairs in oregon, this was smuggling. delighted with an opportunity of doing the united states a service, and the british traders an ill turn, marshal meek immediately summoned a _posse_ of men and started for the sound. on his way he learned the name of the vessel and captain, and recognized them as having been in the columbia river some years before. on that occasion the captain had ordered meek ashore, when, led by his curiosity and general love of novelty, he had paid a visit to this vessel. this information was "nuts" to the marshal, who believed that "a turn about was fair play." with great dispatch and secrecy he arrived entirely unexpected at the point where the vessel was lying, and proceeded to board her without loss of time. the captain and officers were taken by surprise and were all aghast at this unlooked for appearance. but after the first moment of agitation was over, the captain recognized meek, he being a man not likely to be forgotten, and thinking to turn this circumstance to advantage, approached him with the blandest of smiles and the most cordial manner, saying with forced frankness-- "i am sure i have had the pleasure of meeting you before. you must have been at vancouver when my vessel was in the river, seven or eight years ago. i am very happy to have met with you again." "thar is some truth in that remark of yours, captain," replied meek, eyeing him with lofty scorn; "you _did_ meet me at vancouver several years ago. but i was nothing but 'joe meek' at that time, and you ordered me ashore. circumstances are changed since then. i am now colonel joseph l. meek, united states marshal for oregon territory; and you sir, are only a ---- smuggler! go ashore, sir!" the captain saw the point of that concluding "go ashore, sir!" and obeyed with quite as bad a grace as 'joe meek' had done in the first instance. the vessel was confiscated and sold, netting to the government about $ , , above expenses. this money, which fell into bad hands, failed to be accounted for. nobody suspected the integrity of the marshal, but most persons suspected that he placed too much confidence in the district attorney, who had charge of his accounts. on some one asking him, a short time after, what had become of the money from the sale of the smuggler, he seemed struck with a sudden surprise: "why," said he, looking astonished at the question, "thar was barly enough for the officers of the court!" this answer, given as it was, with such apparent simplicity became a popular joke; and "barly enough" was quoted on all occasions. the truth was, that there was a serious deficiency in meek's account with the government, resulting entirely from his want of confidence in his own literary accomplishments, which led him to trust all his correspondence and his accounts to the hands of a man whose talents were more eminent than his sense of honor. the result of this misplaced confidence was a loss to the government, and to himself, whom the government held accountable. contrary to the general rule of disbursing officers, the office made him poor instead of rich; and when on the incoming of the pierce administration he suffered decapitation along with the other territorial officers, he was forced to retire upon his farm on the tualatin plains, and become a rather indifferent tiller of the earth. the breaking out of the indian war of - , was preceded by a long period of uneasiness among the indians generally. the large emigration which crossed the plains every year for california and oregon was one cause of the disturbance; not only by exciting their fears for the possession of their lands, but by the temptation which was offered them to take toll of the travelers. difficulties occurred at first between the emigrants and indians concerning stolen property. these quarrels were followed, probably the subsequent year, by outrages and murder on the part of the indians, and retaliation on the part of volunteer soldiers from oregon. when once this system of outrage and retaliation on either side, was begun, there was an end of security, and war followed as an inevitable consequence. very horrible indeed were the acts perpetrated by the indians upon the emigrants to oregon, during the years from to . but when at last the call to arms was made in oregon, it was an opportunity sought, and not an alternative forced upon them, by the politicians of that territory. the occasion was simply this. a party of lawless wretches from the sound country, passing over the cascade mountains into the yakima valley, on their way to the upper columbia mines, found some yakima women digging roots in a lonely place, and abused them. the women fled to their village and told the chiefs of the outrage; and a party followed the guilty whites and killed several of them in a fight. mr. bolin, the indian sub-agent for washington went to the yakima village, and instead of judging of the case impartially, made use of threats in the name of the united states government, saying that an army should be sent to punish them for killing his people. on his return home, mr. bolin was followed and murdered. the murder of an indian agent was an act which could not be overlooked. very properly, the case should have been taken notice of in a manner to convince the indians that murder must be punished. but, tempted by an opportunity for gain, and encouraged by the somewhat reasonable fears of the white population of washington and oregon, governor g.l. curry, of the latter, at once proclaimed war, and issued a call for volunteers, without waiting for the sanction or assistance of the general government. the moment this was done, it was too late to retract. it was as if a torch had been applied to a field of dry grass. so simultaneously did the indians from puget sound to the rocky mountains, and from the rocky mountains to the southern boundary of oregon send forth the war-whoop, that there was much justification for the belief which agitated the people, that a combination among the indians had been secretly agreed to, and that the whites were all to be exterminated. volunteer companies were already raised and sent into the indian country, when brevet major g.o. haller arrived at vancouver, now a part of the united states. he had been as far east as fort boise to protect the incoming immigration; and finding on his return that there was an indian war on hand, proceeded at once to the yakima country with his small force of one hundred men, only fifty of whom were mounted. much solicitude was felt for the result of the first engagement, every one knowing that if the indians were at first successful, the war would be long and bloody. major haller was defeated with considerable loss, and notwithstanding slight reinforcements, from fort vancouver, only succeeded in getting safely out of the country. major raines, the commanding officer at vancouver, seeing the direction of events, made a requisition upon governor curry for four of his volunteer companies to go into the field. then followed applications to major raines for horses and arms to equip the volunteers; but the horses at the fort being unfit for service, and the major unauthorized to equip volunteer troops, there resulted only misunderstandings and delays. when general wool, at the head of the department in san francisco, was consulted, he also was without authority to employ or receive the volunteers; and when the volunteers, who at length armed and equipped themselves, came to go into the field with the regulars, they could not agree as to the mode of fighting indians; so that with one thing and another, the war became an exciting topic for more reasons than because the whites were afraid of the indians. as for general wool, he was in great disfavor both in oregon and washington because he did not believe there ever had existed the necessity for a war; and that therefore he bestowed what assistance was at his command very grudgingly. general wool, it was said, was jealous of the volunteers; and the volunteers certainly cared little for the opinion of general wool. however all that may be, col. meek gives it as his opinion that the old general was right. "it makes me think," said he, "of a bear-fight i once saw in the rocky mountains, where a huge old grizzly was surrounded by a pack of ten or twelve dogs, all snapping at and worrying him. it made him powerful mad, and every now and then he would make a claw at one of them that silenced him at once." the indian war in oregon gave practice to a number of officers, since become famous, most prominent among whom is sheridan, who served in oregon as a lieutenant. grant himself, was at one time a captain on that frontier. col. wright, afterwards gen. wright, succeeded major raines at vancouver, and conducted the war through its most active period. during a period of three years there were troops constantly occupied in trying to subdue the indians in one quarter or another. as for the volunteers they fared badly. on the first call to arms the people responded liberally. the proposition which the governor made for their equipment was accepted, and they turned in their property at a certain valuation. when the war was over and the property sold, the men who had turned it in could not purchase it without paying more for it in gold and silver than it was valued at when it was placed in the hands of the quartermaster. it was sold, however, and the money enjoyed by the shrewd political speculators, who thought an indian war a very good investment. meek was one of the first to volunteer, and went as a private in company a. on arriving at the dalles he was detailed for special service by col. j.w. nesmith, and sent out as pilot or messenger, whenever any such duty was required. he was finally placed on nesmith's staff, and given the title of major. in this capacity, as in every other, he was still the same alert and willing individual that we have always seen him, and not a whit less inclined to be merry when an opportunity offered. while the army was in the yakima country, it being an enemy's country, and provisions scarce, the troops sometimes were in want of rations. but meek had not forgotten his mountain craft, and always had something to eat, if anybody did. one evening he had killed a fat cow which he had discovered astray, and was proceeding to roast a twenty-pound piece before his camp-fire, when a number of the officers called on him. the sight and savory smell of the beef was very grateful to them. "major meek," said they in a breath, "we will sup with you to-night." "i am very sorry, gentlemen, to decline the honor," returned meek with a repetition of the innocent surprise for which he had so often been laughed at, "but i am very hungry, and thar is barly enough beef for one man!" on hearing this sober assertion, those who had heard the story laughed, but the rest looked rather aggrieved. however, the major continued his cooking, and when the beef was done to a turn, he invited his visitors to the feast, and the evening passed merrily with jests and camp stories. after the army went into winter-quarters, nesmith having resigned, t.r. cornelius was elected colonel. one of his orders prohibited firing in camp, an order which as a good mountaineer the major should have remembered. but having been instructed to proceed to salem without delay, as bearer of dispatches, the major committed the error of firing his gun to see if it was in good condition for a trip through the enemy's country. shortly after he received a message from his colonel requesting him to repair to his tent. the colonel received him politely, and invited him to breakfast with him. the aroma of coffee made this invitation peculiarly acceptable--for luxuries were scarce in camp--and the breakfast proceeded for some time very agreeably. when meek had breakfasted, colonel cornelius took occasion to inquire if the major had not heard his order against firing in camp. "yes," said meek. "then," said the colonel, "i shall be obliged to make an example of you." while meek stood aghast at the idea of punishment, a guard appeared at the door of the tent, and he heard what his punishment was to be, "mark time for twenty minutes in the presence of the whole regiment." "when the command "forward!" was given," says meek, "you might have seen somebody step off lively, the officer counting it off, 'left, left.' but some of the regiment grumbled more about it than i did. i just got my horse and my dispatches and left for the lower country, and when i returned i asked for my discharge, and got it." and here ends the career of our hero as a public man. the history of the young state, of which he is so old a pioneer furnishes ample material for an interesting volume, and will sometime be written by an abler than our sketchy pen. part ii. our centennial indian war and the life of general custer. introduction. the reader of the foregoing pages can hardly have failed to observe, that the region east of the big horn mountains, including the valleys of the yellowstone, big horn, powder, and rosebud rivers, was the favorite haunt of the rocky mountain hunters and trappers--the field of many of their stirring adventures and hardy exploits. here was the "hunters' paradise," where they came to secure game for food and to feed their animals on the nutritious bark of the cottonwoods; here they assembled at the summer rendezvous, to exchange their peltries for supplies; and here, ofttimes, was established their winter camp, with its rough cheer, athletic sports, and wild carousals. here, also, between the plains and the mountains, was the dark and sanguinary ground where terrific and deadly combats were fought between the delawares, iroquois, crows, and blackfeet, and between the trappers and indians; and here, fifty years later, were enacted scenes of warfare and massacre which cast a gloom over the festivities of our centennial anniversary. the recent campaign against the hostile sioux was over the identical ground where the fur-traders roamed intent on beaver-skins and adventure; and it is believed that some account thereof, and a sketch of the renowned indian fighter who perished on the little big horn, may appropriately supplement the story of the mountain-men. contents. chapter i. our centennial war with the sioux--scene of the campaign--general aspect of the country--the hostile indians and their grievances--the people of the frontier--the treaty of --the invasion of the black hills--sitting bull--immediate causes of the war--the indians warned and threatened--the warning disregarded--an appeal to arms--bishop whipple on the roaming indians, chapter ii. general crook's first expedition--the march northward--reynolds follows a trail--camp of crazy horse discovered and attacked--the battle of powder river--return to fort fetterman--crook's second expedition--on the head waters of tongue river--friendly crows--battle of the rosebud--retreat to goose creek camp, chapter iii. gen. terry's expedition--march from fort lincoln--rendezvous on the yellowstone--the montana column--reno's scouting party discovers a trail--the seventh cavalry start up the rosebud--custer discovers an indian village and advances to attack, chapter iv. gibbon's troops cross the yellowstone--march up the big horn--a smoke cloud--an omen of victory--crow scouts--indians in front--a night's bivouac on the little big horn--site of a deserted village--evidences of conflict--a breathless scout--intrenched cavalry--reno relieved--"where is custer?" chapter v. custer's last battle--revelations of the battle-field--theories as to the engagement--custer and his officers--capt. tom custer--boston custer--armstrong reed--burial of the slain--retreat to the yellowstone--story of custer's scout "curley"--death of custer, chapter vi. reno's battles--his charge down the valley, and retreat to the bluffs--benteen's battalion--a terrific assault--holding the fort--volunteer water carriers--removal of indian village--approach of terry--statements of benteen and godfrey--a scout's narrative, chapter vii. kill eagle at sitting bull's camp--his account of the battles with custer and reno--"we have killed them all"--what buck elk saw, chapter viii. criticisms on the conduct of reno and benteen--reno's defence--what benteen says--gen. sheridan on the custer disaster, chapter ix. the midsummer campaign--adventures of a scouting party--running the gauntlet--indian allies--hazardous service--junction of terry and crook--following the trail--at the mouth of powder river--crook starts for the black hills--short rations--battle of slim buttes--the chief american horse--deadwood--terry at glendive creek--a chase after sitting bull--close of the campaign--long dog's reconnoitering party, chapter x. autumn on the yellowstone--gallant defence of a wagon train--a letter from sitting bull--a flag of truce--col. miles and sitting bull have a "talk" between the lines--an exciting scene--the council disperses--the troops advance--a battle and its results--escape of sitting bull--surrender of chiefs as hostages, chapter xi. terry and crook at the sioux agencies--the agency indians disarmed and dismounted--a gleam of daylight--what became of the ponies--red cloud deposed--spotted tail declared chief sachem--gen. crook's address to his troops, chapter xii. winter operations--crook's expedition--col. mckenzie on the trail--a night's march--a charge down a canyon--destruction of a cheyenne village--life at the tongue river cantonment--miles' excursion northward--capture of sitting bull's camp--an unfortunate affair--massacre of five chiefs--treacherous crows--winter march southward--desperate battle in the wolf mountains--defeat of crazy horse--red horse surrenders--his story of the big horn battles--spotted tail's mission--surrender of roman nose, standing elk and crazy horse, chapter xiii. george a. custer--early youth--cadet life--from west point to bull run--on kearny's staff--wades the chickahominy--on mcclellan's staff--antietam--on pleasonton's staff--aldie--a general at gettysburg--pursues lee--falling waters--wounded--cavalry engagement at brandy station--marriage, chapter xiv. a raid toward richmond--with sheridan in the shenandoah valley--opequan creek--fisher's hill--commander of the third division--fight with rosser--sheridan's army surprised--defeat and victory--the cavalry at cedar creek--the last great raid, chapter xv. the last struggle for richmond--custer at dinwiddie and fire forks--petersburg evacuated--the pursuit of lee--jetersville--sailor's creek--appomattox--a flag of truce--custer's address to his soldiers--the great parade--a major general--texas--negotiation with romero, chapter xvi. the seventh cavalry--hancock's expedition--tricky indians--a scout on the plains--camp attacked by indians--a fight for the wagon train--the kidder massacre--court martialed--sully's expedition--battle of the washita--death of black kettle--fate of major elliot--night retreat--march to fort cobb--lone wolf and satanta--after the cheyennes--captive women recovered, chapter xvii. the yellowstone expedition--road-hunters--a siesta--dashing indians--a trap--fearful odds--rapid volleys--attack renewed--reinforcements--the foe repulsed--a tragedy--the revenge of rain in the face--another fight--assigned to fort lincoln--mrs. custer, chapter xviii. the campaign of --the dakota column--the babcock investigation--the congressional committee--grant's displeasure--appeal to the president--custer's last campaign, chapter xix. reminiscences of general custer--personal characteristics, chapter xx. the indian commission of --purchase of the black hills--indian orators--speeches of red cloud, spotted tail, blue teeth, running antelope, two bears, red feather, swan, white ghost, etc., [illustration: map of the sioux country.] the indian war. chapter i. the sioux tribes--causes of the war. the scene of the campaign against the hostile indians in , was the rugged, desolate, and partially unexplored region lying between the big horn and powder rivers, and extending from the big horn mountains northerly to and beyond the yellowstone river. this region is the most isolated and inaccessible of any lying east of the rocky mountains, and is admirably adapted for indian warfare and defense. several rivers, tributaries of the yellowstone, flow through it, and it abounds in creeks, ravines, and canyons. it is the hereditary country of the crows, who for generations defended it against marauding tribes of blackfeet. a vivid description of the general aspect of the country and of the hardships and perils of our soldiers, has been given by col. nelson a. miles, of the fifth infantry, in a letter written from the mouth of the powder river. "no service," he says, "is more thankless or dangerous than contending against these treacherous savages, and if you will come out and learn the real sentiment of the army, you will find the officers of the army the strongest advocates of any peace policy that shall be just and honorable. you will find us out here, five hundred miles from railroad communication, in as barren, desolate and worthless a country as the sun shines upon--volcanic, broken, and almost impassable--so rugged as to make our granite hills of vermont and new hampshire appear in comparison as pleasant parks. jagged and precipitous cliffs; narrow and deep arroyos filled with massive boulders; alkali water, or for miles and miles none at all; and vegetation of cactus and sage-bushes, will represent to you, feebly indeed, the scene of the present campaign, in which we are contending against the most powerful, warlike, and best-armed body of savages on the american continent, armed and mounted partly at the expense of the government, and fully supplied with the most improved magazine guns and tons of metallic ammunition." "the brave mariner," wrote a newspaper correspondent, "on the trackless ocean without compass, is no more at the mercy of wind and wave than terry's army, out upon this vast trackless waste, is at the mercy of his guides and scouts. the sun rises in the east, shines all day upon a vast expanse of sage-brush and grass, and, as it sets in the west, casts its dull rays into a thousand ravines that neither man nor beast can cross. the magnet always points north; but whether one can go either north or south can be decided only by personal effort. an insignificant turn to the wrong side of a little knoll or buffalo-wallow ofttimes imperceptibly leads the voyager into ravine after ravine, over bluff after bluff, until at last he stands on the edge of a yawning canyon, hundreds of feet in depth and with perpendicular walls. nothing is left for him to do but to retrace his steps and find an accessible route." the hostile indians with whom our soldiers have had to contend are no despicable foe; on the contrary they are quite able, in frontier warfare, to cope with disciplined troops. they fight in bodies, under skilled leaders, and have regular rules which they observe in battle, on their marches, and in their camps. "they have systems of signalling and of scouting, of posting sentinels and videttes, and of herding their animals." they are remarkably expert horsemen, and are so dependent on their steeds, that "a sioux on foot is a sioux warrior no longer." gen. crook testifies to their adroitness and skill as follows:-- "when the sioux indian was armed with a bow and arrow he was more formidable, fighting as he does most of the time on horseback, than when he came into possession of the old fashioned muzzle loading rifle. but when he came into possession of the breech loader and metallic catridge, which allows him to load and fire from his horse with perfect ease, he became at once ten times more formidable. with the improved arms i have seen our friendly indians, riding at full speed, shoot and kill a wolf, also on the run, while it is a rare thing that our troops can hit an indian on horseback though the soldier may be on his feet at the time. "the sioux is a cavalry soldier from the time he has intelligence enough to ride a horse or fire a gun. if he wishes to dismount, his hardy pony, educated by long usage, will graze around near where he has been left, ready when his master wants to mount either to move forward or escape. even with their lodges and families they can move at the rate of fifty miles per day. they are perfectly familiar with the country, have their spies and hunting parties out all the time at distances of from twenty to fifty miles each way from their villages, know the number and movements of all the troops that may be operating against them, just about what they can probably do, and hence can choose their own times and places of conflict or avoid it altogether." the primary causes of the hostilities of the indians which made this campaign and previous ones against them necessary, extend far back and are too numerous to be here fully stated. the principal indian grievances however, for which the government is responsible, are a failure to fulfil treaties, encroachment on reserved territories, and the dishonesty of agents. col. miles speaks of our relationship with the indians for the last fifty years, as the dark page in our history, which, next to african slavery, has done more to disgrace our government, blacken our fair name, and reflect upon our civilization, than aught else. it has, he says, been a source of corruption and a disturbing element, unconfined to any one political party or class of individuals. wendell phillips asserts that the worst brutality which prurient malice ever falsely charged the indian with, is but weak imitation of what the white man has often inflicted on indian men, women and children; and that the indian has never lifted his hand against us until provoked to it by misconduct on our part, compared with which, any misconduct of his is but dust in the balance. the great difference in the condition and character of the indians over the canada line and our own, can only be accounted for by the different treatment they have received. the canadian indians are, on the whole, a harmless, honest people, who, though they are gradually disappearing before the white man, bear him no ill-will, but rather the contrary. bishop whipple of minnesota, an earnest advocate of the peace policy, draws the following contrast:-- "here are two pictures--on one side of the line a nation has spent $ , , in indian war; a people who have not miles between the atlantic and the pacific which has not been the scene of an indian massacre; a government which has not passed twenty years without an indian war; not one indian tribe to whom it has given christian civilization; and which celebrates its centennial year by another bloody indian war. on the other side of the line there is the same greedy, dominant anglo-saxon race, and the same heathen. they have not spent one dollar in indian war; they have had no indian massacres. why? in canada the indian treaty calls these men 'the indian subjects of her majesty.' when civilization approaches them they are placed on ample reservations; they receive aid in civilization; they have personal rights of property; they are amenable to law and are protected by law; they have schools, and christian people delight to give them their best men to teach them the religion of christ. we expend more than one hundred dollars to their one in caring for indian wards." the results of the indian disturbances, whatever their causes, have borne heavily on the hardy and enterprising settlers along the border. of these citizens gen. crook says:-- "i believe it is wrong for a government as great and powerful as ours not to protect its frontier people from savages. i do not see why a man who has the courage to come out here and open the way for civilization in his own country, is not as much entitled to the protection of his government as anybody else. i am not one of those who believe, as many missionaries sent out here by well-meaning eastern socities do, that the people of the frontiers are cut-throats, thieves, and murderers. i have been thrown among them for nearly years of my life, and believe them to compare favorably in energy, intelligence and manhood with the best of their eastern brethren. they are mercilessly plundered by indians without any attempt being made to punish the perpetrators, and when they ask for protection, they are told by some of our peace commissioners sent out to make further concessions to the indians, that they have no business out here anyhow. i do not deny that my sympathies have been with the frontier people in their unequal contest against such obstacles. at the same time i do not wish to be understood as the unrelenting foe of the indian." the sioux indians, embracing several tribes, are the old dakotahs, long known as among the bravest and most warlike aboriginals of this continent. they were steadily pushed westward by the tide of civilization to the great plains north of the platte, where they claimed as their own all the vast region west of the missouri as far as they could roam or fight their way. they resisted the approach of all settlers and opposed the building of the pacific railroad. in , congress sent out four civilians and three army officers as peace commissioners, who, in , made a treaty with the sioux, whereby for certain payments or stipulations, they agreed to surrender their claims to a vast tract of country, to live at peace with their neighbors, and to restrict themselves to a territory bounded south by nebraska, west by the th meridian, and north by the th parallel of latitude--a territory as large as the state of michigan. "they had the solemn pledge of the united states that they should be protected in the absolute and peaceable possession of the country thus set apart for them; and the constitution makes such treaties the highest of all authorities, and declares that they are binding upon every citizen." in the western part of the sioux territory, lying between the two forks of the cheyenne river, is the black hills country with an area of four or five thousand square miles. of the interior of this region up to nothing was known excepting from the indefinite reports of hunters who had penetrated therein. the arrival at a trading post of indians who offered gold-dust for sale which they said was procured at the black hills, caused much excitement; and a military expedition of men was sent from fort lincoln in july , to explore the hills and ascertain if gold existed there. as was expected, no hostile enemy were encountered by the large expedition which thus invaded the indian territory. a few lodges of indians were met in the hills, and they ran away notwithstanding friendly overtures were made. an attempt was made to lead the pony of one mounted indian to headquarters, but he got away, and a shot was fired after him which, says general custer, wounded either the indian or his pony as blood was found on the ground. the geologists of the expedition reported that there was gold in the black hills, and miners and others began to flock thither. in , troops were sent to remove the trespassers on the indian reservation, but as fast as they compelled or persuaded the miners to go away others came to fill their places; and at the present date there are more settlers there than ever before. of the treaty of and the so-called peace policy then inaugurated various opinions are entertained. gen. sherman, a member of the commission, in his report for , says:-- "the commission had also to treat with other tribes at the south; viz,--the cheyennes, arapahoes, kiowas and commanches; were engaged for two years in visiting and confering with these scattered bands; and finally, in , concluded many treaties, which were the best possible at that date, and which resulted in comparative peace on the plains, by defining clearly the boundaries to be thereafter occupied by the various tribes, with the annuities in money, provisions, and goods to be paid the indians for the relenquishment of their claims to this vast and indefinite region of land. at this time the sioux nation consisted of many distinct tribes, and was estimated at , , of whom some , were named as hostiles. "these indians, as all others, were under the exclusive jurisdiction of the indian bureau, and only small garrisons of soldiers were called for at the several agencies, such as red cloud and spotted tail on the head of the white earth river in nebraska (outside their reservation), and at standing rock, cheyenne, and crow creek on the missouri river, to protect the persons of the agents and their employes. about these several agencies were grouped the several bands of sioux under various names, receiving food, clothing, etc., and undergoing the process of civilization; but from the time of the peace commission of to the date of this report, a number of sioux, recognized as hostile or 'outlaws,' had remained out under the lead of sitting bull and a few other chiefs." "the so-called peace policy," says bishop whipple, "was commenced when we were at war. the indian tribes were either openly hostile, or sullen and turbulent. the new policy was a marvellous success. i do honestly believe that it has done more for the civilization of the indians than all which the government has done before. its only weakness was that the system was not reformed. the new work was fettered by all the faults and traditions of the old policy. the nation left , men living within our own borders without a vestige of government, without personal rights of property, without the slightest protection of person, property, or life. we persisted in telling these heathen tribes that they were independent nations. we sent out the bravest and best of our officers, some who had grown gray in the service of the country; men whose slightest word was as good as their bond--we sent them because the indians would not doubt a soldier's honor. they made a treaty, and they pledged the nation's faith that no white man should enter that territory. i do not discuss its wisdom. the executive and senate ratified it.... a violation of its plain provisions was an act of deliberate perjury. in the words of gen. sherman, 'civilization made its own compact with the weaker party; it was violated, but not by the savage.' the whole world knew that we violated that treaty, and the reason of the failure of the negotiations of last year was that our own commissioners did not have authority from congress to offer the indians more than one-third of the sum they were already receiving under the old treaty." "the sioux nation," says gen. crook, in his report of sept. , "numbers many thousands of warriors, and they have been encouraged in their insolent overbearing conduct by the fact, that those who participated in the wholesale massacre of the innocent people in minnesota during the brief period that preceded their removal to their present location, never received adequate punishment therefor. following hard upon and as the apparent result of the massacre of over eighty officers and men of the army at fort phil kearney, the government abandoned three of its military posts, and made a treaty of unparalleled liberality with the perpetrators of these crimes, against whom any other nation would have prosecuted a vigorous war. "since that time the reservations, instead of being the abode of loyal indians holding the terms of their agreement sacred, have been nothing but nests of disloyalty to their treaties and the government, and scourges to the people whose misfortune it has been to be within the reach of the endurance of their ponies. and in this connection, i regret to say, they have been materially aided by sub-agents who have disgraced a bureau established for the propagation of peace and good will, man to man. "what is the loyal condition of mind of a lot of savages, who will not allow the folds of the flag of the country to float over the very sugar, coffee and beef, they are kind enough to accept at the hands of the nation to which they have thus far dictated their own terms? such has been the condition of things at the red cloud agency. "the hostile bands roamed over a vast extent of country, making the agencies their base of supplies, their recruiting and ordinance depots, and were so closely connected by intermarriage, interest and common cause with the agency indians, that it was difficult to determine where the line of peaceably disposed ceased and the hostile commenced. they have, without interruption, attacked persons at home, murdered and scalped them, stolen their stock--in fact violated every leading feature in the treaty. indeed, so great were their depredations on the stock belonging to the settlers, that at certain times they have not had sufficient horses to do their ordinary farming work--all the horses being concentrated on the sioux reservation or among the bands which owe allegiance to what is called the sioux nation. in the winter months these renegade bands dwindle down to a comparatively small number; while in summer they are recruited by restless spirits from the different reservations, attracted by the opportunity to plunder the frontiersman, so that by midsummer they become augmented from small bands of one hundred to thousands. "in fact, it was well known that the treaty of had been regarded by the indians as an instrument binding on us but not binding on them. on the part of the government, notwithstanding the utter disregard by the sioux of the terms of the treaty, stringent orders, enforced by military power, had been issued prohibiting settlers from trespassing upon the country known as the black hills. the people of the country against whom the provisions of the treaty were so rigidly enforced naturally complained that if they were required to observe this treaty, some effort should be made to compel the indians to observe it likewise. "the occupation by the settlers of the black hills country had nothing to do with the hostilities which have been in progress. in fact, by the continuous violations by these indians of the treaty referred to, the settlers were furnished with at least a reasonable excuse for such occupation, in that a treaty so long and persistently violated by the indians themselves, should not be quoted as a valid instrument for the preventing of such occupation. since the occupation of the black hills there has not been any greater number of depredations committed by the indians than previous to such occupation; in truth, the people who have gone to the hills have not suffered any more and probably not as much from indians, as they would had they remained at their homes along the border." "in ," says wm. r. steele, delegate from wyoming, "the united states made a treaty with the sioux nation, which was a grave mistake, if it was not a national dishonor and disgrace; that treaty has been the foundation of all the difficulties in the sioux country. in , gen. pope established posts at fort phil kearney, reno, and fort smith, so as to open the road to montana and protect the country and friendly crows from the hostile sioux. in keeping these posts and opening that road, many men, citizens and soldiers, had been killed. notable among the actions that had taken place was the massacre of fetterman and his command at fort phil kearney; and yet after these men had sacrificed their lives, the government went to work and made a treaty by which it ignominiously abandoned that country to these savages, dismantling its own forts, and leaving there the bones of men who had laid down their lives in the wilderness. was it to be wondered at, under these circumstances, that sitting bull and his men believed they were superior to the general government? any body who knows anything about indian nature knows that the legitimate result of that cowardly policy of peace at any price, was to defer only the evil day which has now come upon us. since that time the sioux have been constantly depredating on the frontiers of nebraska, wyoming and montana, and more men have fallen there in the peaceful vocations of civil life, without a murmur being heard, than fell under the gallant custer. the friendly crows have been raided with every full moon; so with the shoshones; and at last these outrages have become so great and so long continued that even the peaceable indian department could not stand them any longer, and called on the military arm of the government to punish these men." president grant, in his message of december, , uses the following language:--"a policy has been adopted towards the indian tribes inhabiting a large portion of the territory of the united states, which has been humane, and has substantially ended indian hostilities in the whole land, except in a portion of nebraska, and dakota, wyoming, and montana territories, the black hills region, and approaches thereto. hostilities there have grown out of the avarice of the white man, who has violated our treaty stipulations in his search for gold. the question might be asked, why the government had not enforced obedience to the terms of the treaty prohibiting the occupation of the black hills region by whites? the answer is simple. the first immigrants to the black hills were removed by troops, but rumors of rich discoveries of gold took into that region increased numbers. gold has actually been found in paying quantity, and an effort to remove the miners would only result in the desertion of the bulk of the troops that might be sent there to remove them." the causes and objects of the military operations against the sioux in , as stated by the secretary of war in a letter to the president dated july th, , were in part as follows:-- "the present military operations are not against the sioux nation at all, but against certain hostile parts of it which defy the government, and are undertaken at the special request of the bureau of the government charged with their supervision, and wholly to make the civilization of the remainder possible. no part of these operations are on or near the sioux reservation. the accidental discovery of gold on the western border of the sioux reservation and the intrusion of our people thereon have not caused this war, and have only complicated it by the uncertainty of numbers to be encountered. the young warriors love war, and frequently escape their agents to go to the hunt or war path--their only idea of the object of life. the object of these military expeditions was in the interest of the peaceful parts of the sioux nation, supposed to embrace at least nine-tenths of the whole, and not one of these peaceful treaty indians has been molested by the military authorities." of the hostile indians referred to by the secretary of war, hon. e.p. smith, commissioner of indian affairs, reported nov. st, :--"it will probably be found necessary to compel the northern non-treaty sioux, under the leadership of sitting bull, who have never yet in any way recognized the united states government, except by snatching rations occasionally at an agency, and such outlaws from the several agencies as have attached themselves to these same hostiles, to cease marauding and settle down, as the other sioux have done, at some designated point." soon afterwards, indian inspector e.c. watkins addressed the commissioner respecting these indians, as follows:--"the true policy in my judgment is to send troops against them in winter, the sooner the better, and whip them into subjection. they richly merit punishment for their incessant warfare and their numerous murders of white settlers and their families, or white men whenever found unarmed." early in december, by the advice of the secretary of the interior, commissioner smith directed that runners be sent out to notify "said indian sitting bull, and others outside their reservation, that they must move to the reservation before the st day of january, ; that if they neglect or refuse so to move, they will be reported to the war department as hostile indians, and that a military force will be sent to compel them to obey the order of the indian officer." respecting this order to the indians, bishop whipple, in a letter to the _new york tribune_, says:-- "there was an inadequate supply of provisions at the agencies that fall, and the indians went out to their unceded territory to hunt. they went as they were accustomed to do--with the consent of their agents and as provided by the treaty. * * * the indians had gone a way from the agencies to secure food, and skins for clothing. the united states had set apart this very country as a hunting-ground for them forever. eight months after this order to return or be treated as hostile, congress appropriated money for the seventh of thirty installments for these roaming indians. it was impossible for the indians to obey the order. no one of the runners sent out to inform the indians, was able to return himself by the time appointed; yet indian women and children were expected to travel a treeless desert, without food or proper clothing, under the penalty of death." as the order and warning were disregarded by the indians, the secretary of the interior notified the secretary of war, feb. st, , that "the time given him (sitting bull) in which to return to an agency having expired, and advices received at the indian office being to the effect that sitting bull still refuses to comply with the direction of the commissioner, the said indians are hereby turned over to the war department for such action on the part of the army as you may deem proper under the circumstances." by direction of lieut. general sheridan, commander over the vast extent of territory included in the military division of missouri, brig. gen. george crook, commander of the department of the platte, an officer of great merit and experience in indian fighting, now undertook to reduce these indian outlaws to subjection, and made preparations for an expedition against them. chapter ii. battles of the powder and rosebud. general crook started from fort fetterman, w.t., march st, , at the head of an expedition composed of ten companies of the d and d cavalry under col. j.j. reynolds, and two companies of the th infantry, with teamsters, guides, etc., amounting in all to nearly nine hundred men. his course was nearly north, past the abandoned forts reno and phil. kearney to tongue river. he descended this river nearly to the yellowstone, scouted rosebud river, and then changed his course to the south-east toward powder river. at a point on the head of otter creek, crook divided his command, and sent col. reynolds with six companies of cavalry and one day's rations to follow the trail of two indians discovered that day in the snow. col. reynolds moved at p.m. of the th, and at . a.m., after a night's march of thirty miles, was near the forks of powder river. the following extracts are copied from a letter written to the _new york tribune_:-- "a halt was called here and the column took shelter in a ravine. no fires were allowed to be kindled, nor even a match lighted. the cold was intense and seemed to be at least ° below zero. the command remained here till about o'clock, doing their uttermost to keep from freezing, the scouts meantime going out to reconnoitre. at this hour they returned, reporting a larger and fresher trail leading down to the river which was about four miles distant. the column immediately started on the trail. the approach to the river seemed almost impracticable. before reaching the final precipices which overlooked the riverbed, the scouts discovered that a village lay in the valley at the foot of the bluffs. it was now o'clock. the sun shone brightly through the cold frosty air. "the column halted, and noyes's battalion, d cavalry, was ordered up to the front. it consisted of company i, capt. noyes, and company k, capt. egan. this battalion was ordered to descend to the valley, and while egan charged the camp, noyes was to cut out the herd of horses feeding close by and drive it up the river. capt. moore's battalion of two companies was ordered to dismount and proceed along the edge of the ridge to a position covering the eastern side of the village opposite that from which egan was to charge. capt. mills's battalion was ordered to follow egan dismounted, and support him in the engagement which might follow the charge. "these columns began the descent of the mountain, through gorges which were almost perpendicular. nearly two hours were occupied in getting the horses of the charging columns down these rough sides of the mountain, and even then, when a point was reached where the men could mount their horses and proceed toward the village in the narrow valley beneath, moore's battalion had not been able to gain its position on the eastern side after clambering along the edges of the mountain. a few indians could be seen with the herd, driving it to the edge of the river, but nothing indicated that they knew of our approach. "just at o'clock capt. egan turned the point of the mountain nearest the river, and first in a walk and then in a rapid trot started for the village. the company went first in column of twos, but when within yards of the village the command 'left front into line' was given, and with a yell they rushed into the encampment. capt. noyes had in the meantime wheeled to the right and started the herd up the river. with the yell of the charging column the indians sprang up as if by magic and poured in a rapid fire from all sides. egan charged through and through the village before moore's and mills's battalions got within supporting distance, and finding things getting very hot, formed his line in some high willows on the south side of the camp, from which he poured in rapid volleys upon the indians. "up to this time the indians supposed that one company was all they had to contend with, but when the other battalions appeared, rapidly advancing, deployed as skirmishers and pouring in a galling fire of musketry, they broke on all sides and took refuge in the rocks along the side of the mountain. the camp, consisting of lodges, with immense quantities of robes, fresh meat, and plunder of all kinds, with over head of horses were in our possession. the work of burning immediately began, and soon the whole encampment was in flames. "after the work of destruction was completed the whole command moved rapidly up the river twenty miles to lodgepole creek. this point was reached at nightfall by all except moore's battalion and egan's company. company e was the rear guard, and assisted major stanton and the scouts in bringing up the herd of horses; many of these were shot on the road, and the remainder reached camp about p.m. these troops had been in the saddle for hours, with the exception of five hours during which they were fighting, and all, officers and men, were much exhausted. "upon arriving at lodgepole, it was found that general crook and the other four companies and pack-train had not arrived, so that everybody was supperless and without a blanket. the night, therefore, was not a cheerful one, but not a murmur was heard. the tired men lay upon the snow or leaned against a tree, and slept as best they could on so cold a night. saturday, at noon, general crook arrived. in the meantime a portion of the herd of horses had straggled into the ravines, and fallen into the hands of the indians." the village thus destroyed was that of crazy horse, one of the avowedly hostile chiefs. "he had with him," wrote gen. crook, "the northern cheyennes, and some of the minneconjous--probably in all one-half of the indians off the reservations." the indian loss was unknown. four of reynolds' men were killed, and six men including one officer were wounded. the whole force subsequently returned to fort fetterman, reaching there march th. the results of this expedition were neither conclusive or satisfactory. therefore, gen. sheridan determined to proceed more systematically by concentric movements. he ordered three distinct columns to be prepared to move to a common centre, where the hostiles were supposed to be, from montana, from dakota, and from the platte. the two former fell under the command of gen. alfred h. terry, commander of the department of dakota, and the latter under gen. crook. these movements were to be simultaneous, so that indians avoiding one column might be encountered by another. gen. crook marched from fort fetterman on the th of may, with two battalions of the d and d cavalry under lieut. col. w.b. royall, and a battalion of five companies of the th and th infantry under major alex. chambers, with a train of wagons, pack-mules, and indian scouts, all amounting to officers and , men present for duty. this expedition marched by the same route as the preceding one, to a point on goose creek, which is the head of tongue river, where a supply camp was established on june th. during the preceding night a party of sioux came down on the encampment, and endeavored to stampede the horses, bringing on an engagement which resulted in the discomfiture and retreat of the enemy. on the th, a band of shoshones and crows--indians unfriendly to the sioux--joined crook, and were provided with arms and ammunition. the aggressive column of the expedition resumed the march forward on the morning of the th, leaving the trains parked at the goose creek camp. the infantry were mounted on mules borrowed from the pack-train, and each man carried his own supplies consisting of only three days' rations and one blanket. at night, after marching about miles, the little army encamped between high bluffs at the head waters of rosebud river. at a.m. on the morning of the th the troops started down the valley of the rosebud, the indian allies marching in front and on the flanks. after advancing about seven miles successive shots were heard in front, the scouts came running in to report indians advancing, and gen. crook had hardly time to form his men, before large numbers of warriors fully prepared for a fight were in view. the battle which ensued was on both banks of the rosebud, near the upper end of a deep canyon having sides which were steep, covered with pine, and apparently impregnable, through which the stream ran. the indians displayed a strong force at all points, and contested the ground with a tenacity which indicated that they were fighting for time to remove their village, which was supposed to be about six miles down the rosebud at the lower end of the canyon, or believed themselves strong enough to defeat their opponents. the officers and men of crook's command behaved with marked gallantry during the engagement. the sioux were finally repulsed in their bold onset, and lost many of their bravest warriors; but when they fled they could not be pursued far without great danger owing to the roughness of the country. the indian allies were full of enthusiasm but not very manageable, preferring to fight independently of orders. crook's losses were nine soldiers killed, and twenty-one wounded, including capt. henry of the d cavalry. seven of the friendly indians were wounded, and one was killed. gen. crook was satisfied that the number and quality of the enemy required more men than he had, and being encumbered with wounded he concluded to retreat. the night was passed on the battle-field, and the next day he started for his camp on goose creek, which was reached june th. couriers were sent to fort fetterman for reinforcements and supplies, and the command remained inactive for several weeks awaiting their arrival. the battle of the rosebud was fought not very far from the scene of custer's defeat a few days later, and gen. crook concludes that his opponents were the same that custer and reno encountered. "it now became apparent," says gen. sheridan in his report "that gen. crook had not only crazy horse and his small band to contend with, but that the hostile force had been augmented by large numbers of the young warriors from the agencies along the missouri river, and the red cloud and spotted tail agencies in nebraska, and that the indian agents at these agencies had concealed the fact of the departure of these warriors, and that in most cases they continued to issue rations as though they were present." chapter iii. terry's expedition--opening of the campaign. general terry left fort abraham lincoln on the missouri river, may th , with his division, consisting of the th cavalry under lieut. col. george a. custer, three companies of infantry, a battery of gatling guns, and enlisted scouts. his whole force, exclusive of the wagon-train drivers, numbered about men. his march was westerly, over the route taken by the stanley expedition in . on the th of june, terry reached the south bank of the yellowstone at the mouth of powder river, where by appointment he met steamboats, and established his supply camp. a scouting party of six companies of the th cavalry under major m.a. reno was sent out june th, which ascended powder river to its forks, crossed westerly to tongue river and beyond, and discovered, near rosebud river, a heavy indian trail about ten days old leading westward toward little big horn river. after following this trail a short distance reno returned to the yellowstone and rejoined his regiment, which then marched, accompanied by steamboats, to the mouth of rosebud river where it encamped june st. communication by steamboats and scouts had previously been opened with col. john gibbon, whose column was at this time encamped on the north side of the yellowstone, near by. col. gibbon of the th infantry had left fort ellis in montana about the middle of may, with a force consisting of six companies of his regiment, and four companies of the d cavalry under major j.s. brisbin. he had marched eastward down the north bank of the yellowstone to the mouth of the rosebud, where he encamped about june st. gen. terry now consulted with gibbon and custer, and decided upon a plan for attacking the indians who were believed to be assembled in large numbers near big horn river. custer with his regiment was to ascend the valley of the rosebud, and then turn towards little big horn river, keeping well to the south. gibbon's troops were to cross the yellowstone at the mouth of big horn river, and march up the big horn to its junction with the little big horn, to co-operate with custer. it was hoped that the indians would thus be brought between the two forces so that their escape would be impossible. col. gibbon's column was immediately put in motion for the mouth of the big horn. on the next day, june d, at noon, custer announced himself ready to start, and drew out his regiment. it consisted of companies, numbering officers and soldiers. there were also a strong detachment of scouts and guides, several civilians, and a supply train of pack mules. gen. terry reviewed the column in the presence of gibbon and brisbin, and it was pronounced in splendid condition. "the officers clustered around terry for a final shake of the hand, the last good-bye was said, and in the best of spirits, filled with high hopes, they galloped away--many of them to their death." gen. terry's orders to custer were as follows:-- camp at the mouth of rosebud river,} june d, .} _lieut. col. custer, th cavalry._ colonel: the brigadier general commanding directs that as soon as your regiment can be made ready for the march, you proceed up the rosebud in pursuit of the indians whose trail was discovered by major reno a few days ago. it is, of course, impossible to give any definite instructions in regard to this movement, and, were it not impossible to do so, the department commander places too much confidence in your zeal, energy, and ability to wish to impose upon you precise orders which might hamper your action when nearly in contact with the enemy. he will, however, indicate to you his own views of what your action should be, and he desires that you should conform to them unless you shall see sufficient reason for departing from them. he thinks that you should proceed up the rosebud until you ascertain definitely the direction in which the trail above spoken of leads. should it be found (as it appears to be almost certain that it will be found) to turn towards the little big horn, he thinks that you should still proceed southward perhaps as far as the head waters of the tongue, and then turn toward the little big horn, feeling constantly, however, to your left, so as to preclude the possibility of the escape of the indians to the south or south-east by passing around your left flank. the column of col. gibbon is now in motion for the mouth of the big horn. as soon as it reaches that point it will cross the yellowstone, and move up at least as far as the forks of the big and little big horn. of course its future movements must be controlled by circumstances as they arise; but it is hoped that the indians, if up on the little big horn, may be so nearly inclosed by the two columns that their escape will be impossible. the department commander desires that on your way up the rosebud you should thoroughly examine the upper part of tulloch's creek, and that you should endeavor to send a scout through to col. gibbon's column with information of the result of your examination. the lower part of this creek will be examined by a detachment from col. gibbon's command. the supply steamer will be pushed up the big horn as far as the forks of the river are found to be navigable for that space, and the department commander, who will accompany the column of col. gibbon, desires you to report to him there not later than the expiration of the time for which your troops are rationed, unless in the meantime you receive further orders. respectfully, &c., e.w. smith, captain th infantry, acting assistant adjutant general. after proceeding southerly up the rosebud for about seventy miles, custer, at p.m. on the night of the th, turned westerly towards little big horn river. the next morning while crossing the elevated land between the two rivers, a large indian village was discovered about fifteen miles distant, just across little big horn river. custer with characteristic promptness decided to attack the village at once. one company was escorting the train at the rear. the balance of the force was divided into three columns. the trail they were on led down to the stream at a point some distance south of the village. major reno, with three companies under capt. t.h. french, capt. myles moylan, and lieut. donald mclntosh, was ordered to follow the trail, cross the stream, and charge down its north bank. capt. f.w. benteen, with his own company and two others under capt. t. b. weir and lieut. e.s. godfrey, was sent to make a detour to the south of reno. the other five companies of the regiment, under the immediate command of custer, formed the right of the little army. on reaching the river reno crossed it as ordered, and custer with his five companies turned northerly into a ravine running behind the bluffs on the east side of the stream. chapter iv. gibbon's march up the big horn river. the supply steamer far west with gen. terry and col. gibbon on board, which steamed up the yellowstone on the evening of june d, overtook gibbon's troops near the mouth of the big horn early on the morning of the th; and by o'clock p.m. of the same day, the entire command with the animals and supplies had been ferried over to the south side of the yellowstone. an hour later the column marched out to and across tulloch's creek, and then encamped for the night. at o'clock on the morning of the th, (sunday) the column was again in motion; and after marching miles over a country so rugged as to task the endurance of the men to the utmost, the infantry halted for the night. gen. terry, however, with the cavalry and the battery pushed on miles further in hopes of opening communication with custer, and camped at midnight near the mouth of the little big horn. scouts sent out from terry's camp early on the morning of the th discovered three indians, who proved to be crows who had accompanied custer's regiment. they reported that a battle had been fought and that the indians were killing white men in great numbers. their story was not fully credited, as it was not expected that a conflict would occur so soon, or believed that serious disaster could have overtaken so large a force. the infantry, which had broken camp very early, now came up, and the whole column crossed the little big horn and moved up its western valley. it was soon reported that a dense heavy smoke was resting over the southern horizon far ahead, and in a short time it became visible to all. this was hailed as a sign that custer had met the indians, defeated them, and burned their village. the weary foot soldiers were elated and freshened by the sight, and pressed on with increased spirit and speed. custer's position was believed to be not far ahead, and efforts were repeatedly made during the afternoon to open communication with him; but the scouts who attempted to go through were met and driven back by hostile indians who were hovering in the front. as evening came on, their numbers increased and large parties could be seen on the bluffs hurrying from place to place and watching every movement of the advancing soldiers. at : in the evening the infantry had marched that day about miles. the forks of the big horn, the place where terry had requested custer to report to him, were many miles behind and the expected messenger from custer had not arrived. daylight was fading, the men were fatigued, and the column was therefore halted for the night. the animals were picketed, guards were set, and the weary men, wrapped in their blankets and with their weapons beside them, were soon asleep on the ground. early on the morning of the th the march up the little big horn was resumed. the smoke cloud was still visible and apparently but a short distance ahead. soon a dense grove of trees was reached and passed through cautiously, and then the head of the column entered a beautiful level meadow about a mile in width, extending along the west side of the stream and overshadowed east and west by high bluffs. it soon became apparent that this meadow had recently been the site of an immense indian village, and the great number of temporary brushwood and willow huts indicated that many indians beside the usual inhabitants had rendezvoused there. it was also evident that it had been hastily deserted. hundreds of lodge-poles, with finely-dressed buffalo-robes and other hides, dried meat, stores, axes, utensils, and indian trinkets were left behind; and in two tepees or lodges still standing, were the bodies of nine indians who had gone to the "happy hunting-grounds." every step of the march now revealed some evidence that a conflict had taken place not far away. the dead bodies of indian horses were seen, and cavalry equipments and weapons, bullet-pierced clothing, and blood-stained gloves were picked up; and at last the bodies of soldiers and their horses gave positive proof that a disastrous battle had taken place. the crow indians had told the truth. the head of the column was now met by a breathless scout, who came running up with the intelligence that major reno with a body of troops was intrenched on a bluff further on, awaiting relief. the soldiers pushed ahead in the direction pointed out, and soon came in sight of men and horses intrenched on top of a hill on the opposite or east side of the river. terry and gibbon immediately forded the stream and rode toward the group. as they approached the top of the hill, they were welcomed by hearty cheers from a swarm of soldiers who came out of their intrenchments to meet their deliverers. the scene was a touching one. stout-hearted soldiers who had kept bravely up during the hours of conflict and danger now cried like children, and the pale faces of the wounded lighted up as hope revived within them. the story of the relieved men briefly told was as follows:--after separating from custer about noon, june th, (as related in the last chapter) reno proceeded to the river, forded it, and charged down its west bank toward the village, meeting at first with but little resistance. soon however he was attacked by such numbers as to be obliged to dismount his men, shelter his horses in a strip of woods, and fight on foot. finding that they would soon be surrounded and defeated, he again mounted his men, and charging upon such of the enemy as obstructed his way, retreated across the river, and reached the top of a bluff followed closely by indians. just then benteen, returning from his detour southward, discovered reno's perilous position, drove back the indians, and joined him on the hill. shortly afterward, the company which was escorting the mule train also joined reno. the seven companies thus brought together had been subsequently assailed by indians; many of the men had been killed and wounded, and it was only by obstinate resistance that they had been enabled to defend themselves in an entrenched position. the enemy had retired on the evening of the th. after congratulations to reno and his brave men for their successful defence enquiries were made respecting custer, but no one could tell where he was. neither he or any of his men had been seen since the fight commenced, and the musketry heard from the direction he took had ceased on the afternoon of the th. it was supposed by reno and benteen that he had been repulsed, and retreated northerly towards terry's troops. a search for custer and his men was immediately began, and it revealed a scene calculated to appal the stoutest heart. although neither custer or any of that part of his regiment which he led to combat were found alive to tell the tale, an examination of their trail and the scene of conflict enabled their comrades to form some idea of the engagement in which they perished. [illustration] chapter v. custer's last battle. general custer's trail, from the place where he left reno's and turned northward, passed along and in the rear of the crest of hills on the east bank of the stream for nearly three miles, and then led, through an opening in the bluff, down to the river. here custer had evidently attempted to cross over to attack the village. the trail then turned back on itself, as if custer had been repulsed and obliged to retreat, and branched to the northward, as if he had been prevented from returning southerly by the way he came, or had determined to retreat in the direction from which terry's troops were advancing. several theories as to the subsequent movements of the troops have been entertained by persons who visited the grounds. one is, that the soldiers in retreating took advantage of two ravines; that two companies under capt. t.w. custer and lieut. a. e. smith, were led by gen. custer up the ravine nearest the river, while the upper ravine furnished a line of retreat for the three companies of capt. g.w. yates, capt. m.w. keogh, and lieut. james calhoun. at the head of this upper ravine, a mile from the river, a stand had been made by calhoun's company; the skirmish lines were marked by rows of the slain with heaps of empty cartridge shells before them, and lieuts. calhoun and crittenden lay dead just behind the files. further on, capt. keogh had fallen surrounded by his men; and still further on, upon a hill, capt. yates' company took its final stand. here, according to this theory, yates was joined by what remained of the other two companies, who had been furiously assailed in the lower ravine; and here gen. custer and the last survivors of the five companies met their death, fighting bravely to the end. another theory of the engagement is, that custer attempted to retreat up the lower ravine in columns of companies; that the companies of custer and smith being first in the advance and last in the retreat, fell first in the slaughter which followed the retrograde movement; that yates' company took the position on the hill, and perished there with custer and other officers; and that the two other companies, keogh's and calhoun's, perished while fighting their way back towards reno--a few reaching the place where custer first struck the high banks of the river. still another theory is, that the main line of retreat was by the upper ravine; that calhoun's company was thrown across to check the indians, and was the first annihilated. that the two companies of capt. custer and lieut. smith retreated from the place where gen. custer was killed into the lower ravine, and were the last survivors of the conflict. near the highest point of the hill lay the body of general custer, and near by were those of his brother captain custer, lieut. smith, capt. yates, lieut. w. v. riley of yates' company, and lieut. w.w. cooke. some distance away, close together, were found another brother of gen. custer--boston custer, a civilian, who had accompanied the expedition as forage master of the th cavalry--and his nephew armstrong reed, a youth of nineteen, who was visiting the general at the time the expedition started, and accompanied it as a driver of the herd of cattle taken along. the wife of lieut. calhoun was a sister of the custer's, and she here lost her husband, three brothers, and a nephew. other officers of custer's battalion killed but not already mentioned, were asst. surgeon l.w. lord, and lieuts. h.m. harrington, j.e. porter, and j.g. sturgis. the last named was a west point graduate of , and a son of general s.d. sturgis, the colonel of the th cavalry, who had been detained by other duties when his regiment started on this expedition. the bodies of the slain were rifled of valuables and all were mutilated excepting gen. custer, and mark kellogg--a correspondent of the _new york herald_. gen. custer was clad in a buckskin suit; and a canadian--mr. macdonald--was subsequently informed by indians who were in the fight, that for this reason he was not mangled, as they took him to be some brave hunter accidentally with the troops. others believe that custer was passed by from respect for the heroism of one whom the indians had learned to fear and admire. the dead were buried june th, where they fell, major reno and the survivors of his regiment performing the last sad rites over their comrades. a retreat to the mouth of big horn river was now ordered and successfully effected, the wounded being comfortably transported on mule litters to the mouth of the little big horn, where they were placed on a steamboat and taken to fort lincoln. gibbon's cavalry followed the indians for about ten miles, and ascertained that they had moved to the south and west by several trails. a good deal of property had been thrown away by them to lighten their march, and was found scattered about. many of their dead were also discovered secreted in ravines a long distance from the battle field. at the boat was found one of custer's scouts, who had been in the fight--a crow named curley; his story was as follows:-- "custer kept down the river on the north bank four miles, after reno had crossed to the south side above. he thought reno would drive down the valley, to attack the village at the upper end, while he (custer) would go in at the lower end. custer had to go further down the river and further away from reno than he wished on account of the steep bank along the north side; but at last he found a ford and dashed for it. the indians met him and poured in a heavy fire from across the narrow river. custer dismounted to fight on foot, but could not get his skirmishers over the stream. meantime hundreds of indians, on foot and on ponies, poured over the river, which was only about three feet deep, and filled the ravine on each side of custer's men. custer then fell back to some high ground behind him and seized the ravines in his immediate vicinity. the indians completely surrounded custer and poured in a terrible fire on all sides. they charged custer on foot in vast numbers, but were again and again driven back. "the fight began about o'clock, and lasted almost until the sun went down over the hills. the men fought desperately, and after the ammunition in their belts was exhausted went to their saddlebags, got more and continued the fight. custer lived until nearly all his men had been killed or wounded, and went about encouraging his soldiers to fight on. he got a shot in the left side and sat down, with his pistol in his hand. another shot struck custer in the breast, and he fell over. the last officer killed was a man who rode a white horse--believed to be lieut. cooke, as cooke and calhoun were the only officers who rode white horses. "when he saw custer hopelessly surrounded he watched his opportunity, got a sioux blanket, put it on, and worked up a ravine, and when the sioux charged, he got among them and they did not know him from one of their own men. there were some mounted sioux, and seeing one fall, he ran to him, mounted his pony, and galloped down as if going towards the white men, but went up a ravine and got away. as he rode off he saw, when nearly a mile from the battle field, a dozen or more soldiers in a ravine, fighting with sioux all around them. he thinks all were killed, as they were outnumbered five to one, and apparently dismounted. the battle was desperate in the extreme, and more indians than white men must have been killed." the following extract is from a letter written to gen. sheridan by gen. terry at his camp on the big horn, july d:-- "we calculated it would take gibbon's command until the th to reach the mouth of the little big horn, and that the wide sweep i had proposed custer should make would require so much time that gibbon would be able to co-operate with him in attacking any indians that might be found on the stream. i asked custer how long his marches would be. he said they would be at the rate of about miles a day. measurements were made and calculations based on that rate of progress. i talked with him about his strength, and at one time suggested that perhaps it would be well for me to take gibbon's cavalry and go with him. to the latter suggestion he replied:--that, without reference to the command, he would prefer his own regiment alone. as a homogeneous body, as much could be done with it as with the two combined. he expressed the utmost confidence that he had all the force that he could need, and i shared his confidence. the plan adopted was the only one which promised to bring the infantry into action, and i desired to make sure of things by getting up every available man. i offered custer the battery of gatling guns, but he declined it, saying that it might embarrass him, and that he was strong enough without it. the movements proposed by general gibbon's column were carried out to the letter, and had the attack been deferred until it was up, i cannot doubt that we should have been successful." chapter vi. reno's battles on the little big horn. after the battle in which lieut. col. custer lost his life, the command of the th cavalry regiment devolved on major reno. the following is a copy of reno's official report to gen. terry, excepting that a few unimportant paragraphs are omitted. it is dated july th, . "the regiment left the camp at the mouth of rosebud river, after passing in review before the department commander, under command of brevet major general g.a. custer, lieutenant colonel, on the afternoon of the d of june, and marched up the rosebud miles and encamped. d--marched up the rosebud, passing many old indian camps, and following a very large lodge-pole trail, but not fresh, making miles. th--the march was continued up the rosebud, the trail and signs freshening with every mile until we had made miles, and we then encamped and waited for information from the scouts. at . p.m., custer called the officers together, and informed us that beyond a doubt the village was in the valley of the little big horn, and that to reach it, it was necessary to cross the divide between the rosebud and little big horn, and it would be impossible to do so in the daytime without discovering our march to the indians; that we would prepare to move at p.m. this was done, the line of march turning from the rosebud to the right, up one of its branches, which headed near the summit of the divide. "about a.m. of the th, the scouts told him that he could not cross the divide before daylight. we then made coffee and rested for three hours, at the expiration of which time the march was resumed, the divide crossed, and about a.m. the command was in the valley of one of the branches of the little big horn. by this time indians had been seen, and it was certain that we could not surprise them, and it was determined to move at once to the attack. "previous to this no division of the regiment had been made since the order was issued on the yellowstone, annulling wing and battalion organizations. general custer informed me he would assign commands on the march. i was ordered by lieut. w.w. cooke, adjutant, to assume command of companies m, a, and g; capt. benteen of companies h, d, and k; custer retaining c, e, f, i, and l, under his immediate command; and company b, capt. mcdougall, being in rear of the pack train. i assumed command of the companies assigned to me, and without any definite orders, moved forward with the rest of the column, and well to its left. i saw benteen moving further to the left, and, as they passed, he told me he had orders to move well to the left, and sweep everything before him; i did not see him again until about : p.m. the command moved down the creek towards the little big horn valley. custer with five companies on the right bank; myself and three companies on the left bank; and benteen further to the left, and out of sight. "as we approached a deserted village, in which was standing one tepee, about a.m., custer motioned me to cross to him, which i did, and moved nearer to his column, until about : a.m., when lieut. cooke came to me and said the village was only two miles ahead and running away. to 'move forward at as rapid a gait as i thought prudent and to charge afterward, and that the whole outfit would support me.' i think those were his exact words. i at once took a fast trot, and moved down about two miles, when i came to a ford of the river. i crossed immediately, and halted about ten minutes or less, to gather the battalion, sending word to custer that i had everything in front of me, and that they were strong. "i deployed, and, with the ree scouts on my left, charged down the valley, driving the indians with great ease for about - / miles. i, however, soon saw that i was being drawn into some trap, as they certainly would fight harder, and especially as we were nearing their village, which was still standing; besides, i could not see custer or any other support; and at the same time the very earth seemed to grow indians, and they were running toward me in swarms, and from all directions. i saw i must defend myself, and give up the attack mounted. this i did, taking possession of a point of woods, which furnished near its edge a shelter for the horses; dismounted, and fought them on foot, making headway through the woods. i soon found myself in the near vicinity of the village, saw that i was fighting odds of at least five to one, and that my only hope was to get out of the woods, where i would soon have been surrounded, and gain some high ground. i accomplished this by mounting and charging the indians between me and the bluffs on the opposite side of the river. in this charge first lieut. donald mcintosh, second lieut. benjamin h. hodgson, and acting assistant surgeon j. m. de wolf were killed. "i succeeded in reaching the top of the bluff, with a loss of the three officers and enlisted men killed, and seven men wounded. almost at the same time i reached the top, mounted men were seen to be coming toward us, and it proved to be capt. benteen's battalion, companies h, d, and k; we joined forces, and in a short time the pack train came up. as senior my command was then companies a, b, d, g, h, k, and m, about men; and the following officers:--captains benteen, weir, french, and mcdougall, first lieutenants godfrey, mathey, and gibson, second lieutenants edgerly, wallace, varnum, and hare, and a.a. surgeon porter. first lieut. de rudio was in the dismounted fight in the woods, but having some trouble with his horse did not join the command in the charge out, and hiding himself in the woods, joined the command after nightfall of the th. "still hearing nothing of custer, and with this reinforcement, i moved down the river in the direction of the village, keeping on the bluffs. we had heard firing in that direction, and knew it could only be custer. i moved to the summit of the highest bluff, but seeing and hearing nothing, sent capt. weir, with his company, to open communication with the other command. he soon sent back word by lieut. hare that he could go no further, and that the indians were getting around him. at this time he was keeping up a heavy fire from his skirmish line. i at once turned everything back to the first position i had taken on the bluff, and which seemed to me the best. i dismounted the men, had the horses and mules of the pack train driven together in a depression, put the men on the crests of the hills making the depression, and had hardly done so when i was furiously attacked. this was about p.m. we held our ground, with the loss of enlisted men killed and wounded, until the attack ceased, about p.m. "as i knew by this time their overwhelming numbers, and had given up any support from the portion of the regiment with custer, i had the men dig rifle-pits; barricaded with dead horses, mules, and boxes of hard bread, the opening of the depression toward the indians in which the animals were herded; and made every exertion to be ready for what i saw would be a terrific assault the next day. all this night the men were busy, and the indians holding a scalp dance underneath us in the bottom and in our hearing. "on the morning of the th i felt confident that i could hold my own, and was ready as far as i could be, when at daylight, about : a.m., i heard the crack of two rifles. this was the signal for the beginning of a fire that i have never seen equaled. every rifle was handled by an expert and skilled marksman, and with a range that exceeded our carbine; and it was simply impossible to show any part of the body, before it was struck. we could see, as the day brightened, countless hordes of them pouring up the valley from out the village, and scampering over the high points toward the places designated for them by their chiefs, and which entirely surrounded our position. they had sufficient numbers to completely encircle us, and men were struck on the opposite sides of the lines from which the shots were fired. i think we were fighting all the sioux nation, and also all the desperados, renegades, half-breeds and squaw men, between the missouri and the arkansas and east of the rocky mountains. they must have numbered at least , warriors. "the fire did not slacken until about : a.m., and then we discovered that they were making a last desperate attempt, which was directed against the lines held by companies h and m. in this attack they charged close enough to use their bows and arrows, and one man lying dead within our lines was touched by the 'coup stick' of one of the foremost indians. when i say the stick was only about or feet long, some idea of the desperate and reckless fighting of these people may be understood. this charge of theirs was gallantly repulsed by the men on that line led by capt. benteen. they also came close enough to send their arrows into the line held by companies d and k, but were driven away by a like charge of the line, which i accompanied. we now had many wounded, and the question of water was vital, as from p.m. of the previous evening until now, a.m. (about hours) we had been without it. a skirmish line was formed under capt. benteen, to protect the descent of volunteers down the hill in front of his position to reach the water. we succeeded in getting some canteens, although many of the men were hit in doing so. "the fury of the attack was now over, and to my astonishment the indians were seen going in parties toward the village. but two solutions occurred to us for this movement--that they were going for something to eat, more ammunition (as they had been throwing arrows), or that custer was coming. we took advantage of this lull to fill all vessels with water, and soon had it by the camp kettle full; but they continued to withdraw, and all firing ceased, save occasional shots from sharpshooters, sent to annoy us about the water. about p.m. the grass in the bottom was set on fire, and followed up by indians who encouraged its burning, and it was evident it was done for a purpose, which purpose i discovered, later on, to be the creation of a dense cloud of smoke, behind which they were packing and preparing to move their tepees. "it was between and p.m. that the village came out from behind the clouds of smoke and dust. we had a close and good view of them, as they filed away in the direction of the big horn mountains, moving in almost perfect military order. the length of the column was fully equal to that of a large division of the cavalry corps of the army of the potomac, as i have seen it on its march. "we now thought of custer, of whom nothing had been seen and nothing heard since the firing in his direction about p.m. on the eve of the th, and we concluded that the indians had gotten between him and us, and driven him toward the boat, at the mouth of little big horn river; the awful fate that did befall him never occurring to any of us as within the limits of possibilities. during the night i changed my position, in order to secure an unlimited supply of water, and was prepared for their return, feeling sure they would do so, as they were in such numbers. but early in the morning of the th, and while we were on the _qui vive_ for indians, i saw with my glass a dust some distance down the valley. there was no certainty for some time what they were, but finally i satisfied myself they were cavalry, and if so could only be custer, as it was ahead of the time that i understood that general terry could be expected. before this time, however, i had written a communication to gen. terry, and three volunteers were to try and reach him (i had no confidence in the indians with me, and could not get them to do anything). if this dust were indians, it was possible they would not expect any one to leave. the men started, and were told to go as near as was safe to determine if the approaching column was white men, and to return at once in case they found it so; but if they were indians to push on to general terry. in a short time we saw them returning over the high bluff already alluded to; they were accompanied by a scout who had a note from terry to custer, saying, 'crow scouts had come to camp saying he had been whipped, but it was not believed.' i think it was about : a.m. that general terry rode into my lines, and the fate of custer and his brave men was soon determined by capt. benteen proceeding with his company to the battle ground. "the wounded in my lines were, during the afternoon and eve of the th, moved to the camp of general terry; and at a.m. of the th, i proceeded with the regiment to the battle ground of custer, and buried bodies, including the following named citizens:--mr. boston custer, mr. reed, and mr. kellogg. the following named citizens and indians, who were with my command, were also killed:--charles reynolds (guide and hunter); isaiah (colored) interpreter; bloody knife (who fell from immediately by my side); bob-tailed bull and stab of the indian scouts. "after following over his trail, it is evident to me that custer intended to support me by moving further down the stream, and attacking the village in flank; that he found the distance to the ford greater than he anticipated; that he did charge, but his march had taken so long, although his trail shows he moved rapidly, that they were ready for him; that companies c and i, and perhaps part of company e, crossed to the village or attempted it at the charge and were met by a staggering fire; and that they fell back to secure a position from which to defend themselves; but they were followed too closely by the indians to permit him to form any kind of a line. i think had the regiment gone in as a body, and from the woods in which i fought advanced on the village, its destruction was certain; but he was fully confident they were running, or he would not have turned from me. i think (after the great number of indians that were in the village) that the following reasons obtained for the misfortune: his rapid marching for two days and one night before the fight, attacking in the day time at m. and when they were on the _qui vive_, instead of early in the morning; and lastly, his unfortunate division of the regiment into three commands. "during my fight with the indians i had the heartiest support from officers and men, but the conspicuous services of brevet colonel f.w. benteen, i desire to call attention to especially, for if ever a soldier deserved recognition by his government for distinguished services, he certainly does. "the harrowing sight of the dead bodies crowning the height on which custer fell, and which will remain vividly in my memory until death, is too recent for me not to ask the good people of this country whether a policy that sets opposing parties in the field, armed, clothed, and equipped by one and the same government, should not be abolished. all of which is respectfully submitted." the following is capt. benteen's account of his detour to the south and junction with reno:-- "i was sent with my battalion to the left to a line of bluffs about five miles off, with instructions to look for indians and see what was to be seen, and if i saw nothing there to go on, and when i had satisfied myself that it was useless to go further in that direction to rejoin the main trail. after proceeding through a rough and difficult country, very tiring on the horses, and seeing nothing, and wishing to save the horses unnecessary fatigue, i decided to return to the main trail. before i had proceeded a mile in the direction of the bluffs i was overtaken by the chief trumpeter and the sergeant major, with instructions from gen. custer to use my own discretion, and in case i should find any trace of indians, at once to notify gen. custer. "having marched rapidly and passed the line of bluffs on the left bank of a branch of the little big horn which made into the main stream about two and a half miles above the ford crossed by col. reno's command, as ordered, i continued my march in the same direction. the whole time occupied in this march was about an hour and a half. as i was anxious to regain the main command, as there was no signs of indians, i then decided to rejoin the main trail, as the country before me was mostly of the same character as that i had already passed over, without valley and without water, and offering no inducement for the indians. no valleys were visible, not even the valley where the fight took place, until my command struck the river. "about three miles from the point where reno crossed the ford, i met a sergeant bringing orders to the commanding officer of the rear guard, capt. mcdougall, to hurry up the pack trains. a mile further i was met by my trumpeter, bringing a written order from lieut. cooke, the adjutant of the regiment, to this effect:--'benteen, come on; big village; be quick; bring packs:' and a postscript saying, 'bring packs.' a mile or a mile and a half further on i first came in sight of the valley and little big horn. about twelve or fifteen dismounted men were fighting on the plains with indians, charging and recharging them. this body numbered about at this time. col. reno's mounted party were retiring across the river to the bluffs. i did not recognize till later what part of the command this was, but was clear they had been beaten. i then marched my command in line to their succor. "on reaching the bluff i reported to col. reno, and first learned that the command had been separated and that custer was not in that part of the field, and no one of reno's command was able to inform me of the whereabouts of gen. custer. while the command was awaiting the arrival of the pack mules, a company was sent forward in the direction supposed to have been taken by custer. after proceeding about a mile they were attacked and driven back. during this time i heard no heavy firing, and there was nothing to indicate that a heavy fight was going on, and i believe that at this time custer's immediate command had been annihilated." in a letter addressed to the _army and navy journal_, lieut. e.l. godfry, of benteen's battalion, gives the following information:-- "captain benteen was some six miles from the scene of action when he received lieut. cooke's note; he had no intimation that the battle had begun, of the force of the indians, or plan of attack. benteen pushed ahead; the packs followed, and not until he reached the high bluffs over-looking the river valley and near to where the troops afterwards were besieged did he know of the battle or immediate presence of the troops to the enemy; he could only hear occasional shots, not enough to intimate that a battle was going on. soon after reaching this point two volleys were heard down the river where gen. custer was, but his force was not in sight. soon after this reno and benteen joined. by accident benteen's column constituted a reserve. it was well it was so. as soon as dispositions were made on the bluff, weir's company was sent to look for gen. custer. he went to a high point about three-quarters of a mile down the river, from which he had a good view of the country. from it could be seen custer's battle field, but there was nothing to indicate the result. the field was covered with indians. he was recalled from the place; the packs closed up; ammunition was issued and the command moved down the river to, if possible, join custer. upon reaching this high point we could see nothing, hear nothing, to indicate custer's vicinage. but immediately the indians started for us." the following is the narrative of george herndon, a scout, published in the _new york herald_:-- "at p.m., june th, custer followed the scouts up the right-hand fork of the rosebud. about daylight we went into camp, made coffee, and soon after it was light the scouts brought custer word that they had seen the village from the top of a divide that separates the rosebud from little big horn river. we moved up the creek until near its head, and concealed ourselves in a ravine. it was about three miles from the head of the creek where we then were to the top of the divide where the indian scouts said the village could be seen, and after hiding his command, general custer with a few orderlies galloped forward to look at the indian camp. in about an hour he returned, and said he could not see the indian village, but the scouts and a half-breed guide said they could distinctly see it some miles off. custer had 'officers' call' blown, gave his orders, and the command was put in fighting order. the scouts were ordered forward, and the regiment moved at a walk. after going about three miles the scouts reported indians ahead, and the command then took the trail. "our way lay down a little creek, a branch of the little big horn, and after going some six miles we discovered an indian lodge ahead and custer bore down on it at a stiff trot. in coming to it we found ourselves in a freshly-abandoned indian camp, all the lodges of which were gone except the one we saw, and on entering it we found it contained a dead indian. from this point we could see into the little big horn valley, and observed heavy clouds of dust rising about five miles distant. many thought the indians were moving away, and i think custer believed so, for he sent word to reno, who was ahead, to push on the scouts rapidly and head for the dust. reno took a steady gallop down the creek bottom three miles to where it emptied into the little big horn, and found a natural ford across little big horn river. he started to cross, when the scouts came back and called out to him to hold on, that the sioux were coming in large numbers to meet him. he crossed over, however, formed his companies on the prairie in line of battle, and moved forward at a trot, but soon took a gallop. "the valley was about three-fourths of a mile wide. on the left a line of low, round hills, and on the right the river bottom, covered with a growth of cottonwood trees and bushes. after scattering shots were fired from the hills and a few from the river bottom, and reno's skirmishers had returned the shots, he advanced about a mile from the ford, to a line of timber on the right, and dismounted his men to fight on foot. the horses were sent into the timber, and the men formed on the prairies and advanced toward the indians. the indians, mounted on ponies, came across the prairies and opened a heavy fire on the soldiers. after skirmishing for a few minutes reno fell back to his horses in the timber. the indians moved to his left and rear, evidently with the intention of cutting him off from the ford. reno ordered his men to mount and move through the timber. just as the men got into the saddle the sioux, who had advanced in the timber, fired at close range and killed one soldier. reno then commanded the men to dismount, and they did so; but he soon ordered them to mount again and moved out on the open prairie. the command headed for the ford, pressed closely by indians in large numbers, and at every moment the rate of speed was increased, until it became a dead run for the ford. the sioux, mounted on their swift ponies, dashed up by the side of the soldiers and fired at them, killing both men and horses. little resistance was offered, and it was a complete route to the ford. "i did not see the men at the ford, and do not know what took place further than a good many were killed when the command left the timber. just as i got out my horse stumbled and fell, and i was dismounted--the horse running away after reno's command. i saw several soldiers who were dismounted, their horses having been killed or having run away. there were also some soldiers mounted who had remained behind. in all there was as many as men, three of whom were wounded. seeing no chance to get away, i called on them to come into the timber and we would stand off the indians. they wanted to go out, but i said 'no, we can't get to the ford, and, besides, we have wounded men and must stand by them.' they still wanted to go, but i told them i was an old frontiersman, understood indians, and, if they would do as i said, i would get them out of the scrape, which was no worse than scrapes i had been in before. about half of the men were mounted, and they wanted to keep their horses with them; but i told them to let them go, and fight on foot. we stayed in the bush about three hours, and i could hear heavy firing below in the river, apparently about two miles distant. i did not know who it was, but knew the indians were fighting some of our men, and learned afterward it was custer's command. nearly all the indians in the upper end of the valley drew off down the river, and the fight with custer lasted about one hour, when the heavy firing ceased. "when the shooting below began to die away i said to the boys, 'come, now is the time to get out; the indians will come back, and we had better be off at once.' eleven of the said they would go, but two staid behind. i deployed the men as skirmishers, and we moved forward on foot toward the river. when we had got nearly to the river we met five indians on ponies, and they fired on us. i returned the fire and the indians broke, and we forded the river, the water being breast-deep. we finally got over, wounded men and all, and headed for reno's command, which i could see drawn up on the bluffs along the river about a mile off. we reached reno in safety. we had not been with reno more than minutes when i saw the indians coming up the valley from custer's fight. reno was then moving his whole command down the ridge toward custer. the indians crossed the river below reno and swarmed up the bluff on all sides. after skirmishing with them reno went back to his old position which was on one of the highest points along the bluffs. it was now about p.m., and the fight lasted until it was too dark to see to shoot. as soon as it was dark, reno took the packs and saddles off the mules and horses and made breastworks of them. he also dragged the dead horses and mules on the line and sheltered the men behind them. some of the men dug rifle pits with their butcher knives and all slept on their arms. "at the peep of day the indians opened a heavy fire and a desperate fight ensued, lasting until a.m. the indians charged our position three or four times, coming up close enough to hit our men with stones, which they threw by hand. captain benteen saw a large mass of indians gathering on his front to charge, and ordered his men to charge on foot and scatter them. benteen led the charge, and was upon the indians before they knew what they were about and killed a great many. they were evidently surprised at this offensive movement. i think in desperate fighting benteen is one of the bravest men i ever saw. all the time he was going about through the bullets, encouraging the soldiers to stand up to their work and not let the indians whip them. he never sheltered his own person once during the battle, and i do not see how he escaped being killed. the desperate charging and fighting was at about p.m., but firing was kept up on both sides until late in the afternoon. "i think the indian village must have contained about , people, fully , of whom were warriors. the indians fought reno first and then went to fight custer, after which they came back to finish reno. hordes of squaws and old, gray-haired indians were roaming over the battle-field howling like mad. the squaws had stone mallets, and mashed in the skulls of the dead and wounded. our men did not kill any squaws, but the ree indian scouts did. the bodies of six squaws were found in the little ravine. the indians must have lost as many men in killed and wounded as the whites did." chapter vii. kill eagle's narrative. a vivid account of custer's last battle has been given by an indian named kill eagle, who was in sitting bull's village on the day of the fight as, he claims, a non-combatant. kill eagle was head chief of the cheyenne river agency indians who had become much dissatisfied. capt. poland, formerly commander of the troops at standing rock, says that the indians there were "abominably starved during the winter and spring of --the authorities having failed to deliver the rations due them; and in may and june , the indians received practically nothing except two issues of beef and ground corn, called meal, but so coarse that one peck yielded but a quart of meal." early in may, kill eagle entered the military post with a party of warriors, gave a dance, demanded rations, and proclaimed "that he owned the land the post was built on, the timber and stone which had been used in its construction, and that he would have the great father pay for all these things; that his people were starving and they could get no food from the agent." the post commander told them he could do nothing for them. kill eagle's party manifested sulliness, and demonstrated their defiance by firing off pistols in the air as they marched outside of the garrison. a few days later the post commander was informed that kill eagle had started for the hostile camp with about thirty lodges. in september, kill eagle came near the post and sent word that he intended to kill all the soldiers unless they crossed the river. the troops were under arms all night anticipating an attack, but none was made. subsequently kill eagle surrendered to the authorities, and gave them an account of his wanderings during the summer. a letter written at standing rock described his story as follows:-- "he commences with the date at which he left this agency, last spring, with lodges, for the purpose of hunting buffalo and trading with the hostile indians. he speaks of having heard reports that troops were going out to punish the hostiles, but thought he would have time to do his hunting and trading and get out of the way before a battle occurred. they were obliged to hunt, as they were starving at the agency, and were very successful. "on the seventh day they arrived at sitting bull's village, where a feast and numerous presents of ponies and robes were given them. efforts were made to induce kill eagle and his band to join in the contemplated movements and hostilities, but evidently without much success. they were desirous of getting back again to the protecting arms of their agency, but were unable to escape from the meshes of the wily sitting bull. they found, too late, that for them there was no escape; their horses were either shot or stolen, and wounds and insults were showered upon them from every side. in the meantime the forces of crook were approaching, and with his people kill eagle succeeded in escaping temporarily from the hostiles. he claims to have been distant some forty or fifty miles from the scene of the rosebud fight, and relates many of the incidents which he was able subsequently to gather from the participants. he places the loss of the indians in the rosebud fight at four dead, left on the field, and twelve that were brought to camp. he places the wounded at as high as , and says they had horses killed, besides those that were captured. "he next comes to the fight on the little big horn, and describes the indian village, which was six miles long and one wide. he then speaks of custer's approach and fight with its tragic details as an unwilling spectator, rather than a participant, who, during its progress, remained quietly in his lodge in the centre of the indian village. the fight with reno commenced about noon, the indians all rushing to oppose his advance, until the approach of custer toward the lower end of the village was announced, when the wildest confusion prevailed throughout the camp. lodges were struck and preparations made for instant flight. vast numbers of indians left reno's front and hastened to the assistance of their red brethren engaged with custer, who was steadily forced back and surrounded until all were swept from the field by the repeated charges of the indians. "he described the firing at this point as simply terrific, and illustrated its force by clapping his hands together with great rapidity and regularity. then came a lull in the fearful storm of iron hail and his hands were still again. the storm beat fast and furious as the thought of some loved one nerved the arm of each contending trooper. then the movement of his hands slackened and gradually grew more feeble. a few scattering shakes, like the rain upon a window pane, and then the movement ceased as the last of custer's band of heroes went down with the setting sun. "it was dusk as the successful combatants returned to camp littered with their dead and wounded. 'we have killed them all,' they said, 'put up your lodges where they are.' they had just began to fix their lodges that evening, when a report came that troops were coming from toward the mouth of the creek. when this report came, after dark, the lodges were all taken down and they started up the creek. 'i told my men,' says kill eagle, 'to keep together, and we would try and get away. some one told on me, and they said let us kill him and his band, we have lost many young men to-day, and our hearts are bad. we travelled all night and next day; after crossing the greasy grass we encamped near the foot of the white mountains. that night, when i was asleep, i heard a man calling. i woke up my people and this man proved to be a cheyenne indian, belonging to a party that had been off on the war-path in the white mountains.' "it was not to the indians a bloodless victory. fourteen had fallen in front of reno, thirty-nine went down with custer, and fourteen were dead in camp. horses and travoises were laden with their wounded on every hand and in countless numbers. one band alone of ogallallas had twenty-seven wounded on travoises, and thirty-eight thrown across horses. there were no white men in the fight or on the field. the bugle calls were sounded by an indian. no prisoners were taken. the troops were all killed on the east side; none crossed the river." little buck-elk, an uncapapa chief who came into fort peck in september, said that he was present at the fight with custer, and that eleven different tribes were engaged in it. "the indians were as thick as bees at the fight, and there were so many of them that they could not all take part in it. the soldiers were all brave men and fought well; some of them, when they found themselves surrounded and overpowered, broke through the lines and tried to make their escape, but were pursued and killed miles from the battle ground. the indians captured six battle flags. no soldiers were taken alive, but after the fight the women went among the dead bodies and robbed and mutilated them. there were plenty of watches and money taken, which the young warriors are wearing in their shirts and belts." chapter viii. an attack in the rear. major reno's conduct on the first day of the fighting on the little big horn, has been severely criticised by several of gen. custer's personal friends; and one of them, gen t.l. rosser, in a letter addressed to reno and published in the _army and navy journal_, blames him for taking to the timber when his "loss was little or nothing." "you had," he says, "an open field for cavalry operations, and i believe that if you had remained in the saddle and charged boldly into the village, the shock upon the indians would have been so great that they would have been compelled to withdraw their attacking force from custer, who, when relieved, could have pushed his command through to open ground, where he could have manoeuvred his command, and thus greatly have increased his chances of success." it would seem as if this and similar criticisms were sufficiently answered by reno's report; and by his reply to rosser, which is given in part below:-- "after reading all your letter i could no longer look upon it as a tribute of a generous enemy, since through me you had attacked as brave officers as ever served a government, and with the same recklessness and ignorance of circumstances as custer is charged with in his attacks upon the hostile indians. both charges--the one made against him and the one made by you against us--are equally untrue, you say:--'i feel custer would have succeeded had reno, with all the reserve of seven companies, passed through and joined custer after the first repulse;' and after confessing that you are firing at long range say further: 'i think it quite certain that custer had agreed with reno upon a place of junction in case of the repulse of either or both detachments; and, instead of an effort being made by reno for such a junction, as soon as he encountered heavy resistance he took refuge in the hills and abandoned custer and his gallant comrades to their fate. "as i shall show, both the premises are false, and consequently all the conclusions of your letter fall to the ground. * * * the only official orders i had from custer were about five miles from the village, when cooke gave me his orders in these words: 'custer says to move at as rapid a gait as you think prudent, and to charge afterwards, and you will be supported by the whole outfit.' "no mention of any plan, no thought of junction, only the usual orders to the advance guard to attack by the charge. when the enemy was reached i moved to the front at a fast trot, and at the river halted ten minutes or less to gather the battalion. i sent word to custer that i had the enemy in my front very strong, and then charged, driving the reds before me about three miles or less, to within a short distance of their village, supposing my command, consisting of officers and men and about scouts and guards, followed by the columns under custer. the stream was very crooked, like a letter s in its wanderings, and on the side on which the village was it opened out into a broad bottom, perhaps half or three-quarters of a mile wide. the stream was fringed, as usual, with the trees of the plains--a growth of large cottonwood, and on the opposite side was a range of high bluffs which had been cut into very deep ravines. "as i neared the village the indians came out in great numbers, and i was soon convinced i had at least ten to one against me, and was forced on the defensive. this i accomplished by taking possession of a point of woods where i found shelter for my horses. i fought there dismounted, and made my way to within yards of the village, and firmly believe that if, at that moment, the seven companies had been together the indians could have been driven from their village. as we approached near their village they came out in overwhelming numbers, and soon the small command would have been surrounded on all sides, to prevent which i mounted and charged through them to a position i could hold with the few men i had. "you see by this i was the advance and the first to be engaged and draw fire, and was consequently the command to be supported, and not the one from which support could be expected. all i know of custer from the time he ordered me to attack till i saw him buried, is that he did not follow my trail, but kept on his side of the river and along the crest of the bluffs on the opposite side from the village and from my command; that he heard and saw my action i believe, although i could not see him; and it is just here that the indians deceived us. all this time i was driving them with ease, and his trail shows he moved rapidly down the river for three miles to the ford, at which he attempted to cross into their village, and with the conviction that he would strike a a retreating enemy. trumpeter martin, of co. h, who the last time of any living person heard and saw gen. custer, and who brought the last order his adjutant ever penciled, says he left the general at the summit of the highest bluff on that side, and which overlooked the village and my first battle-field, and as he turned, gen. custer raised his hat and gave a yell, saying they were asleep in their tepees and surprised, and to charge. * * * "the indians made him over confident by appearing to be stampeded, and, undoubtedly, when he arrived at the ford, expecting to go with ease through their village, he rode into an ambuscade of at least , reds. my getting the command of the seven companies was not the result of any order or prearranged plan. benteen and mcdougal arrived separately, and saw the command on the bluffs and came to it. they did not go into the bottom at all after the junction. they attempted to go down the trail of gen. custer, but the advance company soon sent back word they were being surrounded. crowds of reds were seen on all sides of us, and custer's fate had evidently been determined. i knew the position i had first taken on the bluff was near and a strong one. i at once moved there, dismounted, and herded the pack train, and had but just time to do so when they came upon me by thousands. had we been twenty minutes later effecting the junction not a man of that regiment would be living to-day to tell the tale." another writer attacks both reno and benteen, accusing one of incapacity and utter demoralization during the attack of the indians, and the other of wilful disobedience. "that he (benteen) should have, as his own testimony confesses, deliberately disobeyed the _peremptory order of custer_ to 'come on,' argues either a desire to sacrifice custer, or an ignorance of which his past career renders him incapable. custer told him to 'come on,' and he reported to reno." in order, as he says, to "vindicate the reputation of a noble man from unjust aspersions," this writer further declares, that "had reno fought as custer fought, and had benteen obeyed custer's orders, the battle of the little big horn might have proved custer's last and greatest indian victory." of the writer last quoted, the _army and navy journal_ says:--"with reckless pen he thrusts right and left, careless of reputations, regardless of facts, darkening the lives of other men, in the vain hope that one name may shine more brightly on the page of history * * * nothing but the most absolute demonstration, accompanied by the proof, would justify such statements as he has made, and this he has not given. the reports of anonymous newspaper correspondents, and an _ex parte_ statement of the conclusions drawn from letters, of which we have not so much as the names of the writers, is not proof on which to base criticisms affecting character and reputation." capt. benteen, brevet colonel u.s.a., who has been a captain in the th cavalry since its organization in , at which date gen. custer was appointed its lieut. colonel, in a letter to the _army and navy journal_ uses the following language:-- "col. reno and i thought during the siege of june th and th, at the little big horn, that he, reno, was the abandoned party, and spoke of it as another 'major elliot[b] affair'; thinking that general custer had retreated to the mouth of the river, where the steamboat was supposed to be, and that reno's command was left to _its_ fate. i am accused of disobeying custer's orders. nothing is further from the truth in point of fact; and i do not think the matter of sufficient importance to attempt to vindicate myself, but can rest contentedly under the ban when i have the consoling belief that the contrary is so well known by all my military superiors and comrades." [b] major joel h. elliot of the th cavalry, and of his command, were missing after the battle of the washita in nov., . their dead bodies were found some weeks later. lieut. gen. sheridan, in his report for , expresses his views of the custer disaster as follows:-- "as much has been said in regard to the misfortune that occurred to general custer and the portion of his regiment under his immediate command in this action, i wish to express the conviction i have arrived at concerning it. from all the information that has reached me, i am led to believe that the indians were not aware of the proximity of custer until he had arrived within about eight or nine miles of their village, and that then their scouts who carried the intelligence back to the valley were so closely followed up by custer, that he arrived on the summit of the divide overlooking the upper portion of the village, almost as soon as the scouts reached it. as soon as the news was given, the indians began to strike their lodges and get their women and children out of the way--a movement they always make under such circumstances. custer, seeing this, believed the village would escape him if he awaited the arrival of the four companies of his regiment--still some miles in his rear. only about or lodges or tepees could be seen from the summit or divide, and this, probably, deceived him as to the extent of the village. he therefore directed major reno, with three companies, to cross the river and charge the village, while he, with the remaining five companies, would gallop down the east bank of the river behind the bluff and cut off the retreat of the indians. reno crossed and attacked gallantly with his three companies--about men--but the warriors, leaving the women to strike the lodges, fell on reno's handful of men and drove them back to and over the river with severe loss. "about this time custer reached a point about three and a half or four miles down the river, but instead of finding a village of or lodges, he found one of perhaps from to , and swarming with warriors, who brought him to a halt. this, i think, was the first intimation the indians had of custer's approach to cut them off, for they at once left reno and concentrated to meet the new danger. the point where custer reached the river, on the opposite side of which was the village, was broken into choppy ravines, and the indians, crossing from reno, got between the two commands, and as custer could not return, he fell back over the broken ground with his tired men and tired horses (they had ridden about miles with but few halts) and became, i am afraid, an easy prey to the enemy. their wild, savage yells, overwhelming numbers, and frightening war paraphernalia, made it as much as each trooper could do to take care of his horse, thus endangering his own safety and efficiency. if custer could have reached any position susceptible of defence, he could have defended himself; but none offered itself in the choppy and broken ravines over which he had to pass, and he and his command were lost without leaving any one to tell the tale. "as soon as custer and his gallant officers and men were exterminated and the scenes of mutilation by the squaws commenced, the warriors returned to renew the attack upon reno; but he had been joined by captain benteen and the four companies of the regiment that were behind when the original attack took place, and the best use had been made of the respite given by the attack on custer, to entrench their position. "had the th cavalry been kept together, it is my belief it would have been able to handle the indians on the little big horn, and under any circumstances it could have at least defended itself; but separated as it was into three distinct detachments, the indians had largely the advantage in addition to their overwhelming numbers. if custer had not come upon the village so suddenly, the warriors would have gone to meet him, in order to give time to the women and children to get out of the way, as they did with crook only a few days before, and there would have been, as with crook, what might be designated a rearguard fight--a fight to get their valuables out of the way, or in other words, to cover the escape of their women, children and lodges." chapter ix. the midsummer campaign. after regaining his position at the mouth of the big horn river, gen. terry called for reinforcements and additional troops were at once put in motion for his camp; but as they had to be collected from all the various stations on the frontier--some of them very remote from railroads--considerable time elapsed before their arrival. during this period, the bands which had broken off from the main body of hostiles, and the young men at the agencies, continued their old and well-known methods of warfare, stealing horses on the frontier and killing small parties of citizens; while the constant communication by the hostiles with the indians at the agencies made it evident that supplies of food and ammunition were being received. to prevent this, gen. sheridan deemed it necessary that the military should control the agencies, and at his request, the secretary of the interior, july d, authorized the military to assume control of all the agencies in the sioux country. about the same date medicine cloud, a chief, who had been sent from fort peck, in may, with a message to sitting bull inviting him to visit fort peck with a view to reconciliation, returned to the agency. to the invitation, sitting bull had replied:-- "tell him i am coming before long to his post to trade. tell him i did not commence. i am getting old, and i did not want to fight, but the whites rush on me, and i am compelled to defend myself. but for the soldiers stationed on the rosebud, i with my people would have been there before that. if i was assured of the protection of the great father, i would go to fort peck for the purpose of making peace. i and others want the black hills abandoned, and we will make peace." while awaiting reinforcements, generals terry and crook were separated by about miles of rough territory, the hostile indians were between them, and for reliable communication with each other it was necessary to send around by the rear nearly miles. the carrying of dispatches direct was a work of the most arduous and perilous nature, and in doing it, and in reconnoitering, brave and gallant deeds were performed. on the th of july, gen. crook sent out lieut. sibley of the nd cavalry with mounted troops and two guides, gerard and baptiste, to reconnoiter the country to the front, and learn if possible the movements of the enemy and the whereabouts of terry's division. the party marched all night, and in the morning were near where the little big horn debouches from the mountains. here, from an eminence, they espied a large body of indians marching eastward as though meditating an attack on the camp at goose creek. concealing themselves as well as they could, they watched the movements of the enemy; but a great shout soon warned them that their trail had been discovered, and hundreds of savages immediately set out to follow it, uttering terrific cries. the fugitives galloped toward the mountains, and seemed to outrun their pursuers; but about noon, while going through a ravine, a sudden volley was fired upon them from the surrounding slopes, and many indians charged down upon them. they wheeled, and took refuge in the woods, but three horses were already wounded. taking the ammunition from the saddles, and leaving their horses tied to the trees to divert the enemy, they now moved stealthily and unseen from the ground, and escaped behind adjacent rocks; then they climbed over steep and slippery places till exhausted, and while halting for a rest knew by the repeated firing that their horses were undergoing an attack. all that night they toiled among the mountains, and on the morning of the th reached tongue river. as they had left their rations behind, they suffered much from hunger, and two of the men were so weak they could not ford the deep stream, and remained behind. when near the camp one of the guides went ahead for assistance, and a company of cavalry brought in the exhausted men. having urgent occasion to communicate with gen. crook, gen. terry, by the promise of a large reward, induced a professional scout to make an attempt to reach him, but he soon returned unsuccessful. no other scout would undertake the task, and as a last resort a call for volunteers was made, in response to which, soldiers promptly offered their services for the hazardous duty without hope of pecuniary reward. three of these, privates wm. evans, benjamin f. stewart, and joseph bell, of the th infantry, were selected. they set out on the th of july, reached crook's camp on the th; and returned on the th accompanied by three crow indians who had arrived from terry's camp on the th. the three soldiers were thanked by their commander, in a general order, "for a deed reflecting so much credit on the service." partial reinforcements having reached gen. crook, on the th of july he broke camp and moved gradually along the hills toward tongue river. on the d of august, just before sunset, an additional regiment, the th cavalry, ten companies, under col. w. merritt, "marched into camp with their supply wagons close on their heels, presenting a fine appearance, despite the fatigue and dust of the march." gen. crook's fighting force now numbered about men. among them were over shoshone and ute indians, sworn enemies to the sioux, led by washakie, a well known shoshone chief. these indians were thus spoken of by a correspondent who saw them at fort bridger, drawn up in line before starting to join gen. crook:-- "in advance of the party was a swarthy temporary chief, his face covered with vertical white streaks. in his right hand, hanging to the end of a window-blind rod, were the two fingers of a dead sioux. another rod had a white flag nailed to it--a precaution necessary to preserve them from being fired upon in proceeding to the seat of war. the faces of the rest had on a plentiful supply of war paint. once in line, they struck up a peculiar grunting sound on a scale of about five notes. one of the braves, afflicted with a malady peculiar to the caucasian race, began to brag what he'd do when he got to the seat of war, winding up in broken english, 'me little mad now; bime by me heap mad.' old washakie, their chief, wants to die in battle, and not in bed." on the th of aug., gen. crook cut loose from his wagon trains and started in pursuit of the indians who, it was ascertained, had left the foot of the big horn mountains, july th, and moved eastward. his route was north-easterly, across the panther mountains to rosebud river. on the th of aug. the troops were ten miles north of the battle-ground of june th, and near the site of a deserted village. the country west of the rosebud had been burned over, and a trail recently traveled by large numbers of indians led down the valley. upon this trail the march was continued. meantime, gen. terry had been reinforced by six companies of the th infantry under col. nelson a. miles, six companies of the d infantry under lt. col. otis, and other detachments, until his command numbered about the same as gen. crook's. on the th of july, he started for the mouth of the rosebud and there established a base of operations. on the th of aug., with his troops and a train of wagons with supplies for days, he moved down the west bank of the rosebud; and on the th, when miles from its mouth, made a junction with crook's command. col. miles with the th infantry was sent back to the mouth of the rosebud to patrol the yellowstone, aided by steamboats, and intercept the indians should they attempt to cross the river. the trail which gen. crook had been following now turned from the rosebud eastward, and its pursuit was promptly and steadily continued by the united forces. it led the troops across to powder river and down its valley. on the th of august they were encamped near the mouth of powder river, on both sides of the stream; and here the two commands separated on the th of august. as the principal indian trail had turned eastward toward the little missouri, gen. crook's column took up the pursuit in that direction. on the th of sept, when on the headwaters of heart river, a small party of indians were discovered going eastward,--the first hostile indians seen since leaving tongue river. the trail had now scattered so that it could be followed no longer, and crook decided to push for the black hills settlements. his troops were nearly out of food, and suffering from want of clothing, and bad weather. cold rains prevailed, and camp life with no tents, few blankets, and half rations, bore hard on the soldiers. meat was scarce and some of the horses were killed to supply food. on the th of sept., capt. anson mills with men and a pack-train, was sent ahead with directions to obtain food at the black hills settlements about miles distant, and to return to the hungry column as soon as possible. gerard, the scout, accompanied the detachment, and on the evening of the th, he discovered a hostile village of lodges and several hundred ponies. capt. mills retreated a few miles, hid his men in a ravine, and at daybreak next morning dashed into the village. the indians were completely surprised and fled to the surrounding hills, from which they exchanged shots with their assailants. the lodges were secured, with their contents consisting of large quantities of dried meat and other food, robes, and flags and clothing taken from custer and his men. ponies were also among the spoils. a small party of the indians had taken possession of a narrow ravine or canyon near the village, and in trying to dislodge them several soldiers were wounded. by direction of gen. crook, who had reached the field with reinforcements, the indians in the ravine were informed that if they would surrender they would not be harmed. an old squaw was the first to take advantage of the offer, and was followed by women and children, and, lastly, by three warriors, one of whom, the chief american horse, had been mortally wounded. later in the day, before the troops had left the village, the indians appeared in force and began a vigorous attack. infantry were at once thrown out along the slope of the bluffs and, "about sundown it was a very inspiring sight to see this branch of the command with their long springfield breech-loaders drive the enemy for a mile and a half to the west, and behind the castellated rocks." the captives in camp said the attacking indians were reinforcements from the camp of crazy horse further west. this engagement is known as the battle of slim buttes. our losses during the day were three killed, and wounded including lieut. von leuttroitz. during the march of sept. th a number of indians came down on the rear, but were repulsed with a loss of several killed and wounded. three soldiers were wounded in this skirmish. the remainder of this long and difficult march was successfully accomplished. on the th, gen. crook reached deadwood, a black hills settlement, and was cordially received by the inhabitants. in a speech made by the general on this occasion, he said:-- "citizens: while you welcome me and my personal staff as the representatives of the soldiers who are here encamped upon the whitewood, let me ask you, when the rank and file pass through here, to show that you appreciate their admirable fortitude in bearing the sufferings of a terrible march almost without a murmur, and to show them that they are not fighting for $ per month, but for the cause--the proper development of our gold and other mineral resources, and of humanity. this exhibition of your gratitude need not be expensive. let the private soldier feel that he is remembered by our people as the real defender of his country." after parting with gen. crook, aug. th, gen. terry crossed the yellowstone and marched down its left bank, his object being to intercept the indians crook was following if they attempted to cross the river. on the th he left the river, and moved northerly into the buffalo range where hunting parties were detailed who secured considerable game. the country was parched, the small streams dry, and water scarce. a scouting party made a detour to the north and west, but no indians could be found. on the th of sept. the whole command was at the mouth of glendive creek, where a military post had been established. gen. terry now decided to close the campaign and distribute his troops to their winter quarters. the montana column under col. gibbon started on the return march to fort ellis, miles distant; lieut. col. otis of the d infantry, with his command, remained at glendive creek, to build a stockade and co-operate with col. miles, who was establishing a winter post at the mouth of tongue river; and gen. terry with the balance of the troops started for fort buford at the mouth of the yellowstone. hearing that sitting bull with a large band had recently crossed to the north side of the missouri river near fort peck, terry sent reno with troops--then en route to fort buford--in pursuit. reno marched to fort peck, and thence to fort buford, but encountered no indians. a reconnoitering party under long dog had been near fort peck, and that chief passed one night at the agency. they did not want rations or annuities, but desired plenty of ammunition, for which they were ready to exchange th cavalry horses, arms and equipments. chapter x. autumn on the yellowstone. on the th of october, as a train escorted by two companies of the th infantry was carrying supplies from glendive creek to the cantonment at the mouth of tongue river, it was attacked by indians, and was obliged to return to glendive with a loss of sixty mules. lieut. col. otis was in command at glendive, and on the th he again started out the train and personally accompanied it. the train consisted of wagons, of which were driven by soldiers, who had taken the places of as many citizen teamsters too demoralized by the recent attack to continue in the service. the military escort numbered with officers men. the following interesting narrative of subsequent events is from the report of col. otis:-- "we proceeded on the first day miles, and encamped on the broad bottom of the yellowstone river, without discovering a sign of the presence of indians. during the night a small thieving party was fired upon by the pickets, but the party escaped, leaving behind a single pony, with its trappings, which was killed. at dawn of day, upon the th, the train pulled out in two strings, and proceeded quietly to spring creek, distant from camp about three miles, when i directed two mounted men to station themselves upon a hill beyond the creek, and watch the surrounding country until the train should pass through the defile. the men advanced at swift pace in proper direction, and when within yards of the designated spot, they received a volley from a number of concealed indians, when suddenly men and indians came leaping down the bluff. the men escaped without injury to person, although their clothing was riddled with bullets. i quickly advanced on the skirmish line, which drove out or indians, and making a similar movement on the opposite flank, passed through the gorge and gained the high table land. here, three or four scouts, sent out by colonel miles, from tongue river, joined us. they had been driven into the tongue upon the previous evening, there corraled, had lost their horses and one of their number, and escaped to the bluffs under cover of the darkness. the dead scout was found and buried. "the train proceeded along the level prairie, surrounded by the skirmish line, and the indians were coming thick and fast from the direction of cabin creek. but few shots were exchanged, and both parties were preparing for the struggle which it was evident would take place at the deep and broken ravine at clear creek, through which the train must pass. we cautiously entered the ravine, and from to indians had gained the surrounding bluffs to our left; signal fires were lighted for miles around, and extended far away on the opposite side of the yellowstone. the prairies to our front were fired, and sent up vast clouds of smoke. we had no artillery, and nothing remained to us except to charge the bluffs. company c, of the th infantry, and company h, of the d infantry, were thrown forward upon the run, and gallantly scaled the bluffs, answering the indian yell with one equally as barbarous, and driving back the enemy to another ridge of hills. we then watered all the stock at the creek, took on water for the men, and the train slowly ascended the bluffs. "the country now surrounding us was broken. the indians continued to increase in numbers, surrounded the train, and the entire escort became engaged. the train was drawn up in four strings, and the entire escort enveloped it by a thin skirmish line. in that formation we advanced, the indians pressing every point, especially the rear, company c, th, which was only able to follow by charging the enemy, and then retreating rapidly toward the train, taking advantage of all the knolls and ridges in its course. the flanks, companies g, th, and k and g, d, were advanced about yards, and the road was opened in the front, by company h, d, by repeated charges. "in this manner we advanced several miles, and then halted for the night upon a depression of the high prairie, the escort holding the surrounding ridge. the indians now had attempted every artifice. they had pressed every point of the line, had run their fires through the train, which we were compelled to cross with great rapidity, had endeavored to approach under cover of smoke, when they found themselves overmatched by the officers and men, who, taking advantage of the cover, moved forward and took them at close range. they had met with considerable loss, a good many of their saddles were emptied, and several ponies wounded. their firing was wild in the extreme, and i should consider them the poorest of marksmen. for several hours they kept up a brisk fire and wounded but three of our men. "upon the morning of the th, the train pulled out in four strings, and we took up the advance, formed as on the previous day. many indians occupied the surrounding hills, and soon a number approached, and left a communication upon a distant hill. it was brought in by scout jackson, and read as follows:-- "yellowstone." "i want to know what you are doing traveling on this road? you scare all the buffalo away. i want to hunt on the place. i want you to turn back from here: if you don't i will fight you again. i want you to leave what you have got here, and turn back from here. "i am your friend, sitting bull. "i mean all the rations you have got and some powder; i wish you would write as soon as you can." "i directed the scout jackson to inform the indians that i had nothing to say in reply, except that we intended to take the train through to tongue river, and that we should be pleased to accommodate them at any time with a fight. the train continued to proceed, and about eight o'clock the indians began to gather for battle. "we passed through the long, narrow gorge, near bad route creek, when we again watered the stock, and took in wood and water, consuming in this labor about an hour's time. when we had pulled up the gentle ascent, the indians had again surrounded us, but the lesson of the previous day taught them to keep at long range, and there was but little firing by either party. i counted indians in our rear, and from their movements and position i judged their numbers to be between and . after proceeding a short distance, a flag of truce appeared on the left flank, borne by two indians, whom i directed to be allowed to enter the lines. they proved to be indian scouts from standing rock agency, bearing dispatches from lieut. col. carlin, of the th infantry, stating that they had been sent out to find sitting bull, and to endeavor to influence him to proceed to some military post and treat for peace. "these scouts informed me that they had that morning reached the camp of sitting bull and man-afraid-of-his-horse, near the mouth of cabin creek, and that they had talked with sitting bull, who wished to see me outside the lines. i declined the invitation, but professed a willingness to see sitting bull within my own lines. the scouts left me, and soon returned with three of the principal soldiers of sitting bull--the last named individual being unwilling to trust his person within our reach. the chiefs said that their people were angry because our train was driving away the buffalo from their hunting grounds, that they were hungry and without ammunition, and that they especially wished to obtain the latter; that they were tired of war, and desired to conclude a peace. "i informed them that i could not give them ammunition, that had they saved the amount already wasted upon the train it would have supplied them for hunting purposes for a long time, that i had no authority to treat with them upon any terms whatever, but they were at liberty to visit tongue river, and there make known conditions. they wished to know what assurance i could give them of their safety should they visit that place, and i replied that i could give them nothing but the word of an officer. they then wished rations for their people, promising to proceed to fort rock immediately, and from thence to tongue river. i declined to give them rations, but finally offered them as a present lb. of hard bread and two sides of bacon, which they gladly accepted. the train moved on, and the indians fell to the rear. upon the following day i saw a number of them from cedar creek, far away to the right, and after that time they disappeared entirely. "upon the evening of the th i met col. miles encamped with his entire regiment on custer creek. alarmed for the safety of the train, he had set out from tongue river upon the previous day." while col. otis was thus gallantly advancing with his train, col. miles, of the th infantry, fearing for its safety, had crossed the yellowstone before daybreak on the th and started toward glendive. he met col. otis, as above stated, on the evening of the th; and on being informed of the attack on the train, started in pursuit of the enemy. on the st, when about eight miles beyond cedar creek, a large number of indians appeared in front of the column, and two of them, bearing a white flag, rode up to the line. they proved to be the standing rock ambassadors who had met col. otis; and brought word that sitting bull wished a conference with col. miles. lieut. h.r. bailey accompanied the two friendly indians to the hostile camp, and there arranged with sitting bull's white interpreter for a meeting to take place between the lines. the troops rested on their arms in line of battle while col. miles with a few officers rode forward and halted about half way between the two forces. sitting bull with a dozen unarmed warriors presently emerged from the hostile lines and walked slowly forward in single file. col. miles' party dismounted and advanced to meet them, and the council began. the scene was picturesque and exciting; and the occasion one of much anxiety to the troops who remembered the assassination of gen. canby--especially so when dozens of armed warriors rode forward and surrounded the little group. the "talk" was long and earnest; the indians wanted an "old-fashioned peace," with privileges of trade--especially in ammunition, and demanded the discontinuing of supply trains and the abandonment of fort buford. col. miles explained that he could only accept surrender on the terms of absolute submission to the u.s. government. at evening the conference was adjourned to the next day, and the parties separated as quietly as they had assembled. in the morning col. miles moved his command north, so as to intercept retreat in that direction. at about a.m., sitting bull, pretty bear, bull eagle, john, standing bear, gall, white bull and others, came forward, marching abreast, and met col. miles and several officers on a knoll half way between the opposing lines. the indians asked to be let alone, and professed a wish for peace, but such a peace as col. miles could not concede. "after much talk by the various chiefs, sitting bull was informed once and for all that he must accept the liberal conditions offered by the government or prepare for immediate hostilities; and the council dispersed--sitting bull disappearing like a shadow in the crowd of warriors behind him." "the scene," wrote a correspondent of the _army and navy journal_, "was now most animated. col. miles sent for his company commanders, and they came charging over the field to receive his final instructions. on the other side, the sioux leaders rode hither and thither at full speed in front of their line, marshaling their men and haranguing them, calling on them to be brave. sitting bull's interpreter, bruey, rode back to ask why the troops were following him? he was answered by col. miles, that the non-acceptance of the liberal terms offered was considered an act of hostility, and he would open fire at once. the whole line then advanced in skirmish order. one company occupied a knoll on the left with the -inch gun, the first shell from which was greeted with a hearty cheer from the advancing line. the indians tried their old tactics and attempted rear and flank attacks from the ravines, but they found those vital points well protected by companies disposed _en potence_, which poured in a torrent of lead wherever an indian showed himself. the firing then became general along the whole line. some of the sharpest shooting was done by the sioux, and many officers only escaped "close calls" by the ends of their hair. two enlisted men were wounded. finally, sitting bull, finding his old plan of battle frustrated by that solid infantry skirmish line advancing upon him with the relentless sternness of fate, began a general and precipitate retreat." the pursuit was resolutely kept up. the indians fled down bad route creek and across the yellowstone, a distance of miles, abandoning tons of dried meat, lodge-poles, camp equipments, ponies, etc. the troops on foot followed rapidly, not stopping to count the dead or gather the plunder; and the result was, that on the th of october five principal chiefs surrendered themselves to col. miles, on the yellowstone, opposite the mouth of cabin creek, as hostages for the surrender of their whole people, represented as between and lodges, equal to about , souls. the hostages were sent under escort to gen. terry, at st. paul, and the indians were allowed five days in their then camp to gather food, and thirty days to reach the cheyenne agency on the missouri river, where they were to surrender their arms and ponies, and remain either as prisoners of war or subject to treatment such as is usually accorded to friendly indians. sitting bull was not among the chiefs who surrendered; during the retreat, they said, he had slipped out, with thirty lodges of his own special followers, and gone northerly. chapter xi. terry and crook at the sioux agencies. the disarming and dismounting of the sioux agency indians being deemed necessary as a precautionary measure, to prevent the hostile indians from receiving constant supplies of arms, ammunition, and ponies from their friends at the agencies, general sheridan directed generals crook and terry to act simultaneously in accomplishing that object. the friendly and unfriendly indians at the agencies were so intermixed, that it seemed impossible to discriminate between them. after refitting at the black hills, gen. crook proceeded to the red cloud agency, and found the indians there in a dissatisfied mood and probably about to start to join the hostile bands. they had moved out some miles from the agency, and refused to return although informed that no more rations would be given them till they did so. at daylight, oct. d, col. mackenzie, the post commander, with eight companies of the th and th cavalry, surrounded the indian camp containing lodges, and captured red cloud and his whole band, men, squaws and ponies without firing a shot, and marched them into the agency dismounted and disarmed. the indians at spotted tail agency were also disarmed and dismounted. gen. crook had an interview with spotted tail, and being satisfied that he was the only important sioux leader who had remained friendly, he deposed red cloud, and declared spotted tail, his rival, the "sachem of the whole sioux nation, by the grace of the great father the president. as the representative of the latter, gen. crook invested him with the powers of a grand chief, and in token thereof presented him his commission as such, written upon a parchment scroll tied with richly colored ribbons. spotted tail's heart was very glad." "the line of the hostile and the peaceably disposed," wrote gen. crook at this time, "is now plainly drawn, and we shall have our enemies only in the front in the future. i feel that this is the first gleam of daylight we have had in this business." meantime gen. terry, with the th cavalry and local garrisons, was disarming and dismounting the indians at the standing rock and cheyenne river agencies. the following is a copy of his report to gen. sheridan, written at standing rock, oct. th:-- "colonel sturgis left lincoln on the th, major reno on the st, and each arrived here on the afternoon of the d. sturgis immediately commenced dismounting and disarming the indians at two bears' camp, on the left bank of the river, and lieut. col. carlin, with his own and reno's forces, dismounted and disarmed them at both camps on this side. owing partially to the fact that before i arrived at lincoln news was sent the indians here, it is said, by mrs. galpin, that we were coming, and our purpose stated; but principally, i believe, that some time since, owing to the failure of the grass here, the animals were sent to distant grazing places many miles away, comparatively only a few horses were found. i, therefore, the next morning, called the chiefs together, and demanded the surrender of their horses and arms, telling them that unless they complied their rations would be stopped, and also telling them that whatever might be realized from the sale of the property taken would be invested in stock for them. they have quietly submitted, and have sent out to bring in their animals. some have already arrived, and we have now in our possession . more are arriving rapidly, and i expect to double that number. i have kept the whole force here until now for the effect its presence produces. "i shall start sturgis to-morrow morning for cheyenne, leaving reno until carlin completes the work here. only a few arms have yet been found or surrendered, but i think our results are satisfactory. not a shot was fired on either side of the river. of course no surprise can now be expected at cheyenne. the desired effect will be attained there by the same means as those employed here." the late sioux commissioners, who made a treaty for the black hills in sept. , gave their pledge that all _friendly_ indians would be protected in their persons and property. bishop whipple comments on the dismounting of the indians as follows:-- "in violation of these pledges , ponies were taken from cheyenne and standing rock agencies. no inventory was kept of individual property. of , ponies taken at standing rock, only left bismark for saint paul. no provision was made to feed them on the way. the grass had burned on the prairie and there was several inches of snow on the ground. the small streams were frozen, and no water was to be had until they reached the james river. there was no grass, and no hay could be purchased until they reached the cheyenne river, more than ten days' travel, and then nothing until they reached fort abercrombie. no wonder that there were only , ponies out of , that left abercrombie, and that of these only reached st. paul. the wretched, dying brutes were made the subject of jest as the war horses of the dakota. many died on the way, many were stolen, and the remnant were sold in st. paul. it was worse than the ordinary seizure of property without color of law. it was not merely robbery of our friends. it was cruel. the indians are compelled to camp from to miles away from the agency to find fuel. they have to cross this distance in the coldest weather to obtain their rations, and without ponies they must cross on foot, and some of them may perish." gen. crook issued at red cloud agency his general orders, no. --in part as follows:-- headquarters department of the platte, in the field,} camp robinson, neb., oct. th, .} "the time having arrived when the troops composing the big horn and yellowstone expedition are about to separate, the brigadier-general commanding addresses himself to the officers and men of the command, to say:-- "in the campaign now closed he has been obliged to call upon you for much hard service and many sacrifices of personal comfort. at times you have been out of reach of your base of supplies; in most inclement weather you have marched without food and slept without shelter. in your engagements you have evinced a high order of discipline and courage, in your marches wonderful powers of endurance, and in your deprivations and hardships, patience and fortitude. "indian warfare is, of all warfare, the most trying, the most dangerous, and the most thankless; not recognized by the high authority of the united states congress as war, it still possesses for you the disadvantages of civilized warfare with all the horrible accompaniments that barbarians can invent and savages can execute. in it, you are required to serve without the incentive to promotion or recognition; in truth, without favor or hope of reward. "the people of our sparsely settled frontier, in whose defence this war is waged, have but little influence with the powerful communities in the east; their representatives have little voice in our national councils, while your savage foes are not only the wards of the nation, supported in idleness, but objects of sympathy with a large number of people otherwise well informed and discerning. you may, therefore, congratulate yourselves that in the performance of your military duty you have been on the side of the weak against the strong, and that the few people there are on the frontier will remember your efforts with gratitude." gen. crook's losses during the campaign extending from may th to oct. th, were killed, wounded (most of whom subsequently returned to duty), one death by accident and one by disease. chapter xii. the winter of - . after leaving red cloud, gen. crook marched to fort fetterman and organized a new column for a winter expedition against the enemy. subsequently, with a force of ten companies of cavalry under col. mackenzie, eleven companies of infantry and four of artillery under lieut. col. r.i. dodge, and about indian allies, some of whom were friendly sioux enlisted at red cloud agency, gen. crook advanced to old fort reno, head of powder river, where a cantonment had been built. hearing that a band of cheyenne indians were encamped among the big horn mountains to the southwest, gen. crook, nov. d, sent col. mackenzie with his cavalry and the indian allies to hunt them up. at noon, nov. th, after marching some miles along the base of the mountains toward the sioux pass, mackenzie met five of seven indian scouts who had been sent ahead the evening previously. these scouts reported that they had discovered the camp of the cheyennes at a point in the mountains about miles distant, and that the other two scouts had remained to watch the camp. a night's march was decided upon and, at sunset, after a halt of three hours, the command moved forward toward the village; but owing to the roughness of the country, it was daylight when they reached the mouth of a canyon leading to and near the village. through this canyon the column advanced, crossing several deep ravines, and when within a mile of the camp the order to charge was given. the indian allies, who were in front, rushed forward howling and blowing on instruments, and some of them subsequently ascended the side of the canyon and occupied a high bluff opposite to and overlooking the village. the surprise was nearly complete; but some of the cheyennes, whom the scouts had reported as being engaged in a war dance, sounded the alarm on a drum, and began firing on the advancing column. the inhabitants immediately deserted their lodges, taking nothing but their weapons with them, and took refuge in a net-work of very difficult ravines beyond the upper end of the village. a brisk fight for about an hour ensued, after which skirmishing was kept up until night. the village of lodges and their entire contents were destroyed, about ponies were captured, and the bodies of indians killed in the engagement were found. col. mackenzie's loss was lieut. j.a. mckinney and six men killed, and twenty-two men wounded. on the th of dec., gen. crook left fort reno with his whole force, and moved down little powder river, intending to form at its junction with powder river a supply camp from which to operate against the indians. subsequently, however, he crossed over to the belle fourche river, and, dec. d, started for fort fetterman where he arrived dec. th. the weather during this homeward march was at times intensely cold, and the men and horses suffered considerably thereby. while gen. crook was thus looking for and harassing the indians in the powder river country, the isolated garrison of the tongue river cantonment, further north, were not idle. an excursion northward in search of sitting bull was led by col. miles, the post-commander, and as reports as to the location of the indians were conflicting and their trails obscured by snow, he divided his force, and sent lieut. frank d. baldwin with three companies of the th infantry to the north of the missouri, while he examined the the mussel shell and dry forks country. on the th of dec., lieut. baldwin discovered sitting bull's band, and followed the indians to the missouri river, where they crossed and for a short time resisted the crossing of the troops. the indians then retreated south, but were overtaken in the redwood country and attacked, dec. th. their camp of lodges was captured and burned with its contents, and mules and horses were taken. the indians escaped, but carried off little property except what they had on their backs. lieut. baldwin's command marched on this expedition over miles--walking on one occasion miles in hours--and endured the cold of a montana winter with great fortitude. a very unfortunate affair occurred at the tongue river cantonment, within a few hundred yards of the parade-ground, dec. th. the following is from col. miles' report thereof:-- "as five minneconjou chiefs were coming in, bearing two white flags, followed by twenty or thirty other indians, and were passing by the crow indian camp, the five in advance were surrounded by twelve crows and instantly killed. the act was an unprovoked, cowardly murder. the crows approached them in a friendly manner, said "how," shook hands with them, and when they were within their power and partly behind a large wood pile, killed them in a most brutal manner. upon hearing the first shot, both officers and men rushed out and tried to save the minneconjous, but could not reach them in time. the crows were aware of the enormity of their crime, as they saw that the minneconjous had a flag of truce, and they were told to come back. they were warned the day before against committing any act of violence against messengers or other parties coming in for friendly purposes. they tried to hide the flag of truce and, taking advantage of the momentary excitement, while efforts were being made to open communication and bring back the others, who were following, and who became alarmed and fled to the bluffs, the guilty crow indians jumped upon their ponies and fled to their agency in montana. the only thing that can be said in defence of the crows is, that a false report was made by one of the crow women that the sioux had fired upon her, and that within the last few months some of their number had lost relatives killed by the sioux in the vicinity of the rosebud. these indians have claimed to be friends of the white man for years, have been frequently in the government employ, and were brought down to fight such outlaws as sitting bull and crazy horse. "those killed were believed to be bull eagle, tall bull, red ----, red cloth, and one other prominent chief of the sioux nation. i am unable to state the object of bull eagle's coming, but am satisfied he came with the best of motives. i can only judge from the following:--when he surrendered on the yellowstone, after the engagement on cedar creek, he was the first to respond to my demands, and, i believe, was largely instrumental in bringing his people to accept the terms of the government. when i had received five of the principal chiefs as hostages, and was about parting with him, i told him, if he had any trouble in going in, or his people hesitated or doubted that the government would deal fairly and justly with them, to come back to me, and i would tell him what to do; that if he would come back to my command, i would be glad to see him and, so long as he complied with the orders of the government, he could be assured of the friendship of its officers. i could not but regard him with respect, as he appeared in every sense a chief, and seemed to be doing everything in his power for the good of his people, and endeavoring to bring them to a more peaceful condition. he appeared to have great confidence in what i told him; i gave him five days to obtain meat; during that time he lost three favorite ponies, which were brought to this place. during my absence he came in, bringing five horses that had strayed or been stolen from some citizens in the vicinity, and requested his own. he also inquired if he could send up to the big horn country for the remainder of his people, and take them in on the pass i had given him. he was informed by the commanding officer, gen. whistler (whom he had known for years before), that he could, and was told to send for them. whether he had met with some trouble in taking his people in to their agency, and had returned, as i had told him, for directions, or had gathered up his people, and in passing had come in to apprise me of the fact, i know not; but there is every reason to believe that the above mentioned circumstances gave rise to his motives and prompted his actions. "the crows were immediately disarmed, twelve of their ponies taken from them, and other considerations, together with a letter explaining the whole affair, were sent to the people and friends of those killed, as an assurance that no white man had any part in the affair, and that we had no heart for such brutal and cowardly acts. "it illustrates clearly the ferocious, savage instincts of even the best of these wild tribes, and the impossibility of their controlling their desire for revenge when it is aroused by the sight of their worst enemies, who have whipped them for years and driven them out of this country. such acts are expected and considered justifiable among these two tribes of indians, and it is to be hoped that the sioux will understand that they fell into a camp of their ancient enemies, and did not reach the encampment of this command." in january, , col. miles with of his troops marched southerly sixty miles up the tongue river, and on the evening of the th discovered a large indian village. skirmishing ensued, and on the next day well-armed warriors appeared in front, and a battle was fought. the battle-ground was very rough and broken, and a heavy snow storm came on during the fight. the indians fought with desperation; but our troops had been so admirably arranged that they succeeded in gaining a decisive victory. the following is col. miles' report of the affair:-- "i have the honor to report that this command fought the hostile tribes of cheyenne and ogallala sioux, under crazy horse, in skirmishes on the st, d, and th of january, and in a five hours' engagement on the th inst. their camp, consisting of some lodges, extended three miles along the valley of tongue river, below hanging woman's creek. they were driven through the canyons of the wolf or panther mountains, in the direction of big horn mountains. their fighting strength outnumbered mine by two or three to one, but by taking advantage of the ground we had them at a disadvantage, and their loss is known to be heavy. our loss is three killed and eight wounded. they fought entirely dismounted, and charged on foot to within fifty yards of captain casey's line, but were taken in front and flank by captain butler's and lieutenant mcdonald's companies. they were whipped at every point and driven from the field, and pursued so far as my limited supplies and worn down animals would carry my command." the following additional particulars are derived from a letter to the _army and navy journal_:-- "on the th january, indian signs grew thicker and thicker. miles of hastily abandoned war lodges were passed. the country became very rough. the valley of the tongue grew narrower, the stream more tortuous, and the hills on both sides loftier and more precipitous, until the valley shrank into a prolonged and winding canyon. at short distances, jutting bluffs made narrow passes which offered points of vantage to the savage enemy. the gorges of the wolf mountains had been reached. "on the th, the march was through a large war camp, recently and hurriedly abandoned. unusual heat was followed by snow. in the evening there was snow and hail driven by a cruel wind, and by p.m. it was pitch dark. on the evening of the th, the scouts captured four cheyenne squaws, a youth, and three young children. two hundred indians made a dash at the scouts, shot two of their horses and made a desperate effort to take them. casey opened a musketry fire on the indians, and darkness supervening, they withdrew. "next morning the fight was renewed shortly after daylight. the indians charged down the valley in large force, close up to the skirmish line, but failed to make any impression. they then turned their attention to the flanks, and began to swarm on the bluffs to the right. the action then became general. the indians were in strong force, and tried every point of the line. the hills and woods resounded with their cries and the high-pitched voices of the chiefs giving their orders. "it is the opinion of some who have had years of experience in indian fighting, that there has rarely, if ever, been a fight before in which the sioux and cheyenne showed such determination and persistency, where they were finally defeated. they had chosen their ground; and it has since been learned that they expected to make another custer slaughter. the cheyenne captives, in the hands of the troops, sang songs of triumph during the entire fight, in anticipation of a speedy rescue and the savage orgies of a massacre." in a complimentary order to his troops, dated jan. st, col. miles says:-- "here in the home of the hostile sioux, this command, during the past three months, has marched miles and fought three engagements--besides affairs of less importance. * * * fortunate indeed is the officer who commands men who will improvise boats of wagon beds, fearlessly dash out into the cold and turbid waters, and amid the treacherous current and floating ice, cross and recross the great missouri; who will defy the elements on these bleak plains in a montana winter; and who have in every field defeated superior numbers." the dismounting and disarming policy was kept up at the agencies through the winter. several bands came in and surrendered--among them that of red horse, who had been actively hostile. this chief thus describes the engagement on the little big horn. the "brave officer" referred to is said to be capt. t.h. french, of reno's battalion. "on the morning of the attack, myself and several women were out about a mile from camp gathering wild turnips. suddenly one of the women called my attention to a cloud of dust rising in the neighborhood of the camp. i soon discovered that troops were making an attack. we ran for the camp, and when i got there i was sent for at once to come to the council-lodge. i found many of the council men already there when i arrived. we gave directions immediately for every indian to get his horse and arms; for the women and children to mount the horses and get out of the way, and for the young men to go and meet the troops. "among the troops was an officer who rode a horse with four white feet. the indians have fought a great many tribes of people, and very brave ones, too, but they all say that this man was the bravest man they had ever met. i don't know whether this man was general custer or not. this officer wore a large-brimmed hat and buckskin coat. he alone saved his command a number of times by turning on his horse in the retreat. in speaking of him, the indians call him the 'man who rode the horse with four white feet.' "after driving this party back, the indians corraled them on top of a high hill, and held them there until they saw that the women and children were in danger of being made prisoners by another party of troops which just then made its appearance below. the word passed among the indians like a whirlwind, and they all started to attack the new party, leaving the troops on the hill. when we attacked the other party, we swarmed down on them and drove them in confusion. no prisoners were taken. all were killed. none were left alive even for a few minutes. these troopers used very few of their cartridges. i took a gun and a couple of belts off two dead men. out of one belt two cartridges were gone; out of the other five. "it was with captured ammunition and arms that we fought the other body of troops. if they had all remained together they would have hurt us very badly. the party we killed made five different starts. once we charged right in until we scattered the whole of them, fighting among them hand to hand. one band of soldiers was right in the rear of us when they charged. we fell back, and stood for one moment facing each other. then the indians got courage and started for them in a solid body. we went but a little distance when we spread out and encircled them. all the time i could see their officers riding in front, and hear them shouting to their men. we finished up the party right there in the ravine. "the troops up the river made their first attack, skirmishing a little while after the fight commenced with the other troops below the village. while the latter fight was going on we posted some indians to prevent the other command from forming a junction. as soon as we had finished the fight we all went back to massacre the troops on the hill. after skirmishing around awhile we saw the walking soldiers coming. these new troops making their appearance was the saving of the others. an indian started to go to red cloud agency that day, and when a few miles from camp discovered dust rising. he turned back and reported that a large herd of buffalo was approaching the camp, and a short time after he reported this the camp was attacked by troops." in february, spotted tail, with a body-guard of warriors, started out to visit his roaming brethren as a peacemaker; and through his influence, or for other reasons, all the hostile bands, it is believed, except sitting bull's, have accepted the terms offered by the government and surrendered their arms and ponies. one band of about encircled the indian camp at spotted tail agency, april th, and after discharging their guns in the air by way of salutation, surrendered to gen. crook. roman nose, whose village was destroyed at slim buttes, indicated his desire for peace in a short speech and by laying his rifle at the feet of the general. five days later, cheyennes, with ponies, came into red cloud agency. their village near sioux pass had been destroyed in november, and they were in a destitute and pitiable condition. crazy horse and his band of indians surrendered at red cloud, may th. they appeared to be in a comfortable condition and had ponies. at the latest date, sitting bull and his band were reported moving toward canada. if they return south, col. miles will be prepared to give them a suitable reception. chapter xiii. a biographical sketch of major-general custer. george armstrong custer, son of emmanuel h. custer, a hard-working, enterprising farmer, was born at new rumley, harrison county, ohio, december th, . he grew up into an active, athletic, and amiable youth, acquired a fair english education, and at the age of sixteen years engaged in teaching school near his native town. having determined to go to west point if possible, young custer addressed a letter on the subject to hon. john a. bingham, member of congress from his district, to whom he was personally unknown, and subsequently called on him. the result was that he entered west point academy as a cadet in . the official notification of his appointment was signed by jefferson davis, president buchanan's secretary of war. as a cadet, custer did not achieve a brilliant record either for scholarship or good behavior. this was not owing to any want of intelligence or quickness of comprehension, but rather to a love of mischief and hatred of restraint. during the four years of his academic term he spent saturdays in doing extra guard duty as penance for various offences; and he graduated in , at the foot of a class of . [illustration: general george a. custer.] his stay terminated with a characteristic incident. he chanced one day when officer of the guard to come upon two angry cadets, who from words had come to blows, and were just ready to settle their difficulty with their fists. custer pushed through the crowd of spectators who surrounded the combatants, but instead of arresting them, as was his duty, he restrained those who were endeavoring to restrain them, and called out:-- "stand back, boys; let's have a fair fight." his appeal was heard by lieuts. hazen and merritt, and he was placed under arrest and kept back to be court-martialed, while the rest of his class, (excepting such as had already resigned to join the southern army) departed for active service. the court-martial was however cut short, through the exertions of his fellow cadets at washington, by a telegraphic order summoning him there. custer reported to the adjutant-general of the army at washington, july th, and was by him introduced to gen. scott. the company (g, nd cavalry) to which he had been assigned, with the rank of nd lieutenant, was at this time near centerville, and as he was to join it, gen. scott entrusted to him some dispatches for gen. mcdowell who commanded the troops in the field. a night's ride on horseback took him to the army, the dispatches were delivered, and then he joined his company before daybreak just as they were preparing to participate in the battle of bull run. in this battle, however, the cavalry took but little part; in the frantic retreat that followed, custer's company was among the last to retire, and did so in good order, taking with them gen. heintzelman who was wounded. after gen. mcclellan took command of the army, custer's company was attached to gen. phil kearny's brigade, and that general detailed custer as his aid-de-camp, and afterwards as assistant adjutant-general, which position he held till deprived of it by a general order prohibiting officers of the regular army from serving on the staffs of volunteer officers. about this time he obtained leave of absence on account of ill health, and visited his sister, mrs. reed, at her home in monroe, michigan; and it is said that through her entreaties and influence he then gave up the habit of using strong drinks, which, in common with many of his fellow officers, he had acquired during his brief army life near washington. thenceforth, through the remainder of his life, he drank no intoxicating liquor. returning to the army in feb. , he was assigned to the th cavalry, and when the enemy evacuated manassas he participated in the advance on that place, and led the company which drove the hostile pickets across cedar run. when the army of the potomac was transferred to the peninsula, custer's company was among the first to reach fortress monroe, and it then marched to warwick. here he was detailed as assistant to the chief engineer, on gen. w.f. smith's staff; he served in that capacity during the siege of yorktown, and planned the earthwork nearest the enemy's lines. at the battle of williamsburg, where he acted as aid-de-camp to gen. hancock, he effected the capture of a battle-flag--the first taken by the army of the potomac. when the army was encamped near the chickahominy river, late in may, custer accompanied gen. barnard, the chief engineer of the army, on a reconnoisance outside the picket line to the bank of the river; and at the request of his superior, he dismounted, jumped into the river, and waded across the stream--the object being to ascertain the depth of the water, which in some places came nearly up to his shoulders. on reaching the opposite bank he examined the ground for some distance, and discovered, unseen by them, the position of the enemy's pickets. barnard reported to mcclellan that the river was fordable, and how he had ascertained that it was so. mcclellan sent for custer, and was so pleased with his appearance and courageous act that he transferred him to his own staff; and in june, custer received from the secretary of war his appointment as additional aid-de-camp, with the rank of captain during the pleasure of the president. previously to this he had crossed the chickahominy at daybreak with a company of infantry, attacked the enemy's picket post, and captured prisoners and arms. custer served on mcclellan's staff through all of the peninsular campaign; and after the battles of gaines' mills, fair oaks, malvern hill, etc., retreated with him to the protection of the gunboats at harrison's landing on the james river. subsequently, after the withdrawal of the army from the peninsula and the defeat of banks and pope in virginia, he was mcclellan's aid-de-camp in the maryland campaign which closed with the battle of antietam. when mcclellan was superseded by burnside, nov. th, , custer accompanied his chief to washington, and subsequently visited his friends in ohio and michigan. his staff position as captain ceased with the retirement of mcclellan, and he was now a first lieutenant, commissioned july th, . in april, , custer rejoined his company which was with gen. hooker's army near fredericksburg, and took part in the battle of chancellorsville. in june he was on the staff of gen. pleasonton, then chief of the cavalry corps, and was conspicuous at beverly ford and other places across the rappahannock where stuart's cavalry were met and roughly handled. at the battle of aldie, virginia, custer distinguished himself in the charge made by kilpatrick's cavalry. the onset was irresistible; the confederate forces were driven back in confusion, and custer's impetuosity carried him far within their lines, from which he was allowed to escape in consequence, he believed, of the similarity of his hat to those worn by the confederates. for his gallantry in this action, custer was promoted at one bound from a first lieutenant to a brigadier-general. gen. custer was now assigned to the command of a michigan brigade in kilpatrick's division, the st, th, th and th cavalry, and joined his command at hanover, md., june th. the next day he was engaged in a skirmish with stuart's cavalry, and attracted the attention of all by the peculiarity of his dress. he wore a broad-brimmed, low-crowned felt hat; loose jacket and trowsers of velveteen, the former profusely trimmed with gold-braid and the latter tucked into high boots; a blue shirt, with turnover collar on either corner of which was an embroidered star; and a flaming neck-tie. the battle of gettysburg was now in progress, and on the nd of july custer distinguished himself, and won the respect of his officers, by charging the enemy at the head of a company of his troops, having his horse shot under him. the next day his brigade was actively engaged, and the charge of the st michigan cavalry, supported by a battery, is designated by custer as one of the most brilliant and successful recorded in the annals of warfare. after the battle gen. lee retreated rapidly toward the potomac, and the cavalry moving by different routes harassed him continually, capturing trains and prisoners. the following paragraph is copied from headley's "history of the civil war." "kilpatrick clung to the rebel army with a tenacity that did not allow it a moment's rest. at midnight, in a furious thunder storm, he charged down the mountain through the darkness with unparalleled boldness, and captured the entire train of elwell's division, eight miles long. at emmettsburg, haggerstown, and other places, he smote the enemy, with blow after blow. buford, gregg, custer, and others, performed deeds which, but for the greater movements that occupied public attention, would have filled the land with shouts of admiration. in fact, the incessant protracted labors of the cavalry during this campaign, rendered it useless for some time." custer's brigade came upon the enemy's rear guard at falling waters, and the th michigan made a gallant charge which was repulsed with considerable loss; but after a two hours' fight the enemy was driven to the river; gen. pettegrew and of his men were killed, and were taken prisoners; cannon and battle-flags were also captured. when the cavalry crossed the rappahannock in september, pushing back stuart's cavalry to brandy station, culpepper c.h., and across the rapidan, custer, as usual, was with the advance, and in one engagement was slightly wounded by a piece of a shell--the first and only time he was wounded during the war. after a short vacation in consequence of his wound, he rejoined his command in season to accompany the advance of cavalry to and across the rapidan in october; and when mead's army was forced back across the rappahannock, he assisted in covering the retreat. the following description of the engagement at brandy station is also copied from headley:-- "pleasonton, with the cavalry, remained behind to watch the enemy, and then slowly retired toward the retreating army. buford had been forced back more rapidly than kilpatrick, whose command--with davis over the right brigade, and custer over the left--fell back more slowly. when the latter reached brandy station, he found the former, ignorant of his movements, was far in advance, leaving his right entirely exposed. to make matters worse stuart had passed around his left, so that kilpatrick, with whom was pleasonton himself, was suddenly cut off. the gallant leader saw at a glance the peril of his position, and, riding to a slight eminence took a hasty survey of the ground before him. he then gave his orders, and three thousand swords leaped from their scabbards, and a long, loud shout rolled over the field. "with a heavy line of skirmishers thrown out, to protect his flanks and rear, he moved in three columns straight on the rebel host that watched his coming. at first, the well-closed columns advanced on a walk, while the batteries of pennington and elder played with fearful precision upon the hostile ranks. he thus kept on, till within a few hundred yards of the rebel lines, when the band struck up "yankee doodle." the next instant, a hundred bugles pealed the charge, and away, with gleaming sabres and a wild hurrah, went the clattering squadrons. as they came thundering on, the hostile lines parted, and let them pass proudly through. buford was soon overtaken, and a line of battle formed; for the rebels, outraged to think they had let kilpatrick off so easy, reorganized, and now advanced to the attack. "a fierce cavalry battle followed, lasting till after dark. pleasonton, buford, kilpatrick, custer and davis again and again led charges in person. it seemed as if the leaders on both sides were determined to test, on the plains of brandy station, the question of superiority between the cavalry; for the charges on both sides were of the most gallant and desperate character. the dark masses would drive on each other, through the deepening gloom, with defiant yells, while the flashing sabres struck fire as they clashed and rung in the fierce conflict. at length the rebels gave it up, and our cavalry, gathering up its dead and wounded, crossed the rappahannock." in the spirited encounter near buckland's mills, oct. th, in which stuart, aided by a flank attack from fitz hugh lee, worsted kilpatrick by force of numbers, custer's brigade bore the brunt of the attack, and did most of the fighting on our side. this fight terminated the active campaign of for custer's brigade, which subsequently guarded the upper fords of the rapidan. on the th of february, , gen. custer was married at monroe, michigan, to miss elizabeth bacon, only daughter of judge daniel s. bacon of monroe. when he rejoined his command at stevensburg a few days later, his wife accompanied him, and she remained in camp till the opening of the spring campaign of . the marriage was, as far as custer was concerned, the consequence of love at first sight, and ever proved to be for both parties a happy one. late in february, , gen. custer crossed the rapidan with cavalry in light marching order, flanking lee's army on the west, and pushed rapidly ahead to within four miles of charlottesville, where he found his progress arrested by a far superior force. he then turned northward toward stannardsville where he again encountered the enemy, and after skirmishing, returned to his camp followed by some hundreds of refugees from slavery. this raid was designed to draw attention from a more formidable one led by kilpatrick at the same time. chapter xiv. a biographical sketch of major-general custer. (continued.) in the spring of , gen. grant was placed at the head of all the union armies; gen. sheridan was called to command the cavalry corps in place of gen. pleasonton; and custer with his brigade was transferred to the first division under torbert. in may, the army of the potomac once more advanced to the rapidan and crossed it. in the battle of the wilderness, owing to the character of the field, the cavalry were compelled to remain almost idle spectators, but subsequently, at spottsylvania c.h., torbert's division was seriously engaged. on the th of may, gen. sheridan started out on his first great cavalry raid toward richmond. at beaverdam station he inflicted great damage on the railroads, destroyed much property, and liberated union prisoners on their way to richmond. continuing his march, he found, at yellow tavern a few miles north of richmond, stuart's cavalry drawn up to oppose his passage. a spirited fight ensued, resulting in the death of stuart and the dispersion of his troops. our cavalry pressed on down the road to richmond, and custer's brigade attacked and carried the outer line of defenses, and took prisoners. the second line of works was too strong to be taken by cavalry, and sheridan was obliged to retreat. beating off assailants both in front and rear he crossed the chickahominy, pushed southward to haxall's landing on the james river, and then leisurely returned by way of white house and hanover c.h. to grant's army, arriving in time to be present at the sanguinary battle of cool arbor. on the th of june, custer accompanied sheridan on a raid around lee's army. they struck the railroad at trevilian's, drove off a large force of the enemy and broke up a long section of the road. retracing their steps to trevilian's, they had there a spirited contest with fitz hugh lee, and then drew off and rejoined gen. grant. during this raid sheridan lost over men, and captured prisoners. in the autumn of , two divisions of cavalry under torbert were with sheridan's army operating in the shenandoah valley. custer's brigade was in the first division, commanded by merritt. averill commanded the second division. having received from gen. grant the order, "go in"--the only instructions which grant deemed it necessary to give--sheridan, sept. th, attacked the confederate forces at opequan creek. the artillery opened along the whole line, the columns moved steadily forward, and gen. early soon discovered that sheridan was in earnest. early's position was a strong one, and he stubbornly held it until the cavalry bugles were heard on his right, as the firm-set squadrons bore fiercely down. rolled up before the impetuous charge, the rebel line at length crumbled into fragments, and the whole army broke in utter confusion and was sent "whirling through winchester," followed until dark by the pursuing cavalry. prisoners were taken. three days later sheridan attacked early at fisher's hill--a strong position to which he had retired--and again forced him to retreat with a loss of men taken prisoners. the cavalry pursued so sharply and persistently, that early left the valley and took refuge in the mountains where cavalry could not operate. on the th of sept., custer was transferred from the command of the michigan brigade in the first division to the head of the second division; but before he was able to reach his new command, he was placed at the head of the third division, with which he had formerly been connected under kilpatrick. when sheridan moved back through the valley from port republic to strasburg, sparing the houses, but burning all the barns, mills and hay-stacks, and driving off all the cattle, his rear was much harassed by the rebel cavalry under gen. rosser--a class-mate of custer's at west point; and on the night of oct. th, sheridan ordered torbert to "start out at daylight, and whip the rebel cavalry or get whipped himself." accordingly on the next morning the cavalry, led on by merritt and custer and supported by batteries, swept boldly out to attack a larger force drawn up in battle array. at the first charge upon them rosser's men broke and fled, but subsequently rallied, and were again pushed back and utterly routed. rosser lost all his artillery but one piece, and everything else which was carried on wheels, and was pursued to mt. jackson, miles distant. of this affair, gen. torbert reported:-- "the first division captured five pieces of artillery, their ordnance, ambulance, and wagon trains, and prisoners. the third division captured six pieces of artillery, all of their headquarter wagons, ordnance, ambulance, and wagon trains. there could hardly have been a more complete victory and rout. the cavalry totally covered themselves with glory, and added to their long list of victories the most brilliant one of them all, and the most decisive the country has ever witnessed." on the th of oct., sheridan started on a flying visit to washington, leaving his army encamped on three ridges or hills. the crest nearest the enemy was held by the army of west virginia under crook; half a mile to the rear of this was the second one, held by the th corps under emory; and still further to the rear, on the third crest, was the th corps under gen. wright, who commanded the whole army during sheridan's absence. the cavalry under torbert lay to the right of the th corps. gen. early, having resolved to surprise and attack the union army, started out his troops on a dark and foggy night, and advanced unperceived and unchallenged in two columns along either flank of the th corps. the march was noiseless; and trusty guides led the steady columns through the gloom, now pushing through the dripping trees and now fording a stream, till at length, an hour before day-break, oct. th, early's troops, shivering with cold, stood within yards of crook's camp. two of crook's pickets had come in at a.m. and reported a heavy, muffled tramp heard at the front; but though some extra precautions were taken, no one dreamed that an attack would be made. crook's troops, slumbering on unconscious of danger, were awakened at daybreak by a deafening yell and the crack of musketry on either flank; following which, charging lines regardless of the pickets came immediately on over the breastworks. the surprise was complete, and after a brief struggle the army of west virginia was flying in confusion toward the second hill occupied by the th corps. emory attempted to stop the progress of the enemy, but they got in his rear, and his command soon broke and fled with the rest toward the hill where the th corps lay. gen. wright formed a new line of battle, and repulsed a tremendous charge of the enemy, thus obtaining time to cover the immense crowd of fugitives that darkened the rear. a general retreat was then begun and continued in good order till a.m. when, the enemy having ceased to advance, wright halted and commenced reorganizing the scattered troops. the cavalry, being at the rear and extreme right, had not suffered in the first assault on the union army, but they were subsequently transferred to the left flank, and did brave service in covering the retreat of the infantry. meanwhile sheridan, returning from washington, had slept at winchester miles distant, and in the morning rode leisurely toward his army. the vibrations of artillery at first surprised him, and he soon became aware that a heavy battle was raging and that his army was retreating. dashing his spurs into his horse he pushed madly along the road, and soon left his escort far behind. further on he met fugitives from the army, who declared that all was lost. as the cloud of fugitives thickened he shouted, as he drove on and swung his cap, "face the other way, boys; we are going back to our camp; we are going to lick them out of their boots." the frightened stragglers paused, and then turned back. on arriving at the front, where the work of reorganization was already well advanced, sheridan inspired his men with new courage by his appearance and words. for two hours he rode back and forth in front of the line, encouraging the troops; and when the order was given, "the entire line will advance, etc.," the infantry went steadily forward upon the enemy. early's front was soon carried, while his left was partly turned back; and after much desperate fighting, his astonished troops turned and fled in utter confusion over the field. "as they streamed down into the middletown meadow," says headley, "sheridan saw that the time for the cavalry had come, and ordered a charge. the bugles pealed forth their stirring notes, and the dashing squadrons of custer and merritt came down like a clattering tempest on the right and left, doubling up the rebel flanks, and cleaving a terrible path through the broken ranks. back to, and through our camp, which they had swept like a whirlwind in the morning, the panic-stricken rebels went, pellmell, leaving all the artillery they had captured, and much of their own, and strewing the way with muskets, clothing, knapsacks, and everything that could impede their flight. the infantry were too tired to continue the pursuit, but the cavalry kept it up, driving them through strasburg to fisher's hill, and beyond, to woodstock, sixteen miles distant." after the battle of cedar creek and during the winter of -- , sheridan's army, including custer's division, remained inactive, occupying cantonments around winchester. on the th of feb., sheridan started out on his last great raid, taking with him gen. merritt as chief of cavalry, the first and third divisions of cavalry under generals devin and custer, artillery, wagons, and pack-mules. the raiding column, including artillerymen and teamsters, numbered , men. moving rapidly up the shenandoah valley over the turnpike road, they passed many villages without halting or opposition, and on the th, approached mount crawford, where rosser with men disputed the passage over a stream and attempted to burn the bridge; but col. capehart of custer's command, which was in advance, by a bold dash drove rosser away and saved the bridge. custer now pushed on to waynesboro' and finding early intrenched there, immediately attacked him. the result, as told by sheridan, was as follows:-- "gen. custer found gen. early in a well chosen position, with two brigades of infantry, and some cavalry under rosser, the infantry occupying breastworks. custer, without waiting for the enemy to get up courage over the delay of a careful reconnaissance, made his dispositions for attack at once. sending three regiments around the left flank of the enemy, custer with the other two brigades, partly mounted and partly dismounted, at a given signal attacked and impetuously carried the enemy's works; while the eight new york and the first connecticut cavalry, who were formed in columns of fours, charged over the breastworks, and continued the charge through the streets of waynesboro', sabring a few men as they went along, and did not stop until they had crossed the south fork of the shenandoah, (which was immediately in early's rear) where they formed as foragers, and with drawn sabres held the east bank of the stream. the enemy threw down their arms and surrendered, with cheers at the suddenness with which they had been captured." sixteen hundred prisoners, pieces of artillery, loaded wagons, and battle-flags were captured single-handed by custer at waynesboro', while his own loss was less than a dozen men. vast amounts of public property were subsequently destroyed. the prisoners were sent to winchester under guard. pushing on across the blue ridge in a heavy rain during the night after early's defeat, custer, still in the van, approached charlottesville the next afternoon, and was met by the authorities, who surrendered to him the keys of the public buildings as a token of submission. the balance of the column soon came up, and two days were spent in destroying bridges, mills, and the railroad leading to lynchburg. sheridan now divided his command, and sent merritt and devin to destroy the canal from scottsville to new market, while he and custer tore up the railroads as far west as amherst c.h. the columns united again at new market on the james river; and as the enemy had burned the bridges so they could not cross to the south side, they moved eastward behind lee's army, destroying bridges, canals, railroads and supplies, thus inflicting a more serious blow to the confederate cause than any victories by land or sea gained during the last campaign. then they swept around by the pamunkey river and white house, and joined grant's besieging army in front of petersburg, march th. they encamped on the extreme left of the lines, close to their old comrades of the second division of cavalry, (now under gen. crook) who here again came under sheridan's command. [illustration] chapter xv. a biographical sketch of major-general custer. (continued.) the final struggle for the possession of richmond and petersburg was now commenced by an extension of the union lines westward, grant's object being to attack the right flank of the confederates. on the th of march, sheridan, with his cavalry, moved southwest to dinwiddie c.h., where devin's and crook's divisions halted for the night. custer was some distance in the rear protecting the train. in the morning, devin pushed the enemy back northerly to their intrenchments at five forks; but being unable to advance further, he returned to dinwiddie c.h. gen. warren, with the th infantry corps, had meantime been put under sheridan's command as a support to the cavalry, but had not yet come up. the next day, st, lee's troops attacked warren unexpectedly, and drove two of his divisions back upon a third, where their advance was stopped; and with the assistance of humphrey's nd corps, the enemy were driven back into their entrenched position along the white oak road. then the rebel infantry moved westward along the road to five forks, and attacked devin, who, earlier in the day, had advanced to five forks and carried that position. devin was driven out in disorder and forced back, and after some difficulty rejoined crook's division at dinwiddie c. h. the confederates now assailed sheridan with a superior force, but could make no headway, and during the night they withdrew. meantime custer, and gen. mckenzie with , additional cavalry, had joined sheridan, and warren was within supporting distance. at daybreak the cavalry advanced steadily on the enemy, and by noon had driven them behind their works at five forks, and were menacing their front. warren was now ordered forward, and after more delay than sheridan deemed necessary, he reached his assigned position and charged furiously westward on the enemy's left flank. custer and devin at the same time charged their right flank and front. thus assailed by double their numbers the rebel infantry fought on with great gallantry and fortitude; but at length their flank defenses were carried by warren's troops, and simultaneously the cavalry swept over their works. a large portion of the enemy surrendered, and the balance fled westward, pursued by custer and mckenzie; , prisoners were taken. the next morning, sunday, april nd, at daybreak, a general assault was made by grant's army upon the defences of petersburg, and some of them were carried. lee telegraphed to davis that richmond must be evacuated; and by night the confederate rule in that city was ended, and davis and his government on the way by railroad to danville. lee's troops withdrew from richmond and petersburg the same night, and marched rapidly westward to amelia c.h. on the danville railroad, where they halted, april th and th, to gather supplies of food from the country. meantime, the union army was pursuing the retreating confederates and making every effort to prevent their escape. custer and devin moved southwesterly toward burkesville destroying the railroad, and then joined crook, mckenzie, and the th corps at jetersville five miles west of amelia c.h. sheridan intrenched his infantry across the railroad, supported them by his cavalry, and felt prepared to stop the passage of lee's whole army. lee, however, finding his way to danville thus blocked, moved northerly around sheridan's left, and thence westerly toward farmville on the appomattox river. gen. davies, of crook's division, made a reconnoisance and struck lee's train moving ahead of his troops, destroying wagons, and taking prisoners. a fight followed, and davies fell back to jetersville where nearly the whole army was then concentrated. on the morning of the th, crook, custer, and devin started out in pursuit. crook, who was in advance, was ordered to attack the trains, and if the enemy was too strong, another division was to pass him, while he held fast and pressed the enemy, and attack at a point further on--thus alternating until some vulnerable point was found. crook came upon lee's columns near deatonsville, and charged upon them, determined to detain them at any cost. crook was finally repulsed, but his action gave custer time to push ahead, and strike further on at sailor's creek. crook and devin came promptly to custer's support, and he pierced the line of march, destroyed wagons, and took many prisoners. elwell's division was separated from lee, who was further ahead, and being enclosed between the cavalry in front and the infantry on their rear, the troops threw down their arms and surrendered. that evening lee crossed the appomattox at farmville, and tried to burn the bridges behind him, but troops arrived in season to save one of them. lee halted five miles beyond farmville, intrenched himself, and repulsed an attack from the infantry. at night he silently resumed his retreat. on the morning of the th, custer and devin, under merritt, were sent on a detour to the left, to cut off retreat toward danville should it be attempted; while crook forded the appomattox and attacked a train. on the th, sheridan concentrated the cavalry at prospect station, and sent merritt, custer, and devin swiftly ahead miles to appomattox station, where, he had learned from scouts, were four trains loaded with supplies for lee, just arrived from lynchburg. gen. custer took the lead, and on reaching the railroad station he skillfully surrounded and captured the trains. then, followed by devin, he hurried on five miles further to appomattox c.h., where he confronted the van of lee's army, immediately attacked it, and by night had turned it back on the main column, and captured prisoners, wagons, guns, and a hospital train. the balance of the cavalry hurried up, and a position was taken directly across the road, in front of lee's army. by a forced march the infantry under griffin and ord, supporting the cavalry, reached the rear of sheridan's position by daybreak the next morning. grant and mead were pressing closely on lee's rear, and lee saw there was no escape for him unless he could break through the cavalry force which he supposed alone disputed his passage. he therefore ordered his infantry to advance. the result of this charge, the last one made by the army of virginia, is thus described in greeley's "_american conflict_":-- "by sheridan's orders, his troopers, who were in line of battle dismounted, gave ground gradually, while showing a steady front, so as to allow our weary infantry time to form and take position. this effected, the horsemen moved swiftly to the right, and mounted, revealing lines of solid infantry in battle array, before whose wall of gleaming bayonets the astonished enemy recoiled in blank despair, as sheridan and his troopers, passing briskly around the rebel left, prepared to charge the confused, reeling masses. a white flag was now waved by the enemy before gen. custer, who held our cavalry advance, with the information that they had concluded to surrender." the next day, april th, gen. custer, who had been brevetted major-general after the battle of cedar creek, issued the following complimentary order to his troops:-- head-quarters third cavalry division.} appomattox court house, va., april , .} soldiers of the third cavalry division:-- with profound gratitude toward the god of battles, by whose blessings our enemies have been humbled and our arms rendered triumphant, your commanding general avails himself of this his first opportunity to express to you his admiration of the heroic manner in which you have passed through the series of battles which to-day resulted in the surrender of the enemy's entire army. the record established by your indomitable courage is unparalleled in the annals of war. your prowess has won for you even the respect and admiration of your enemies. during the past six months, although in most instances confronted by superior numbers, you have captured from the enemy, in open battle, pieces of field artillery, battle-flags, and upward of , prisoners of war including seven general officers. within the last ten days, and included in the above, you have captured field-pieces of artillery and battle-flags. you have never lost a gun, never lost a color, and have never been defeated; and notwithstanding the numerous engagements in which you have borne a prominent part, including those memorable battles of the shenandoah, you have captured every piece of artillery which the enemy has dared to open upon you. the near approach of peace renders it improbable that you will again be called upon to undergo the fatigues of the toilsome march, or the exposure of the battle-field; but should the assistance of keen blades wielded by your sturdy arms be required to hasten the coming of that glorious peace for which we have been so long contending, the general commanding is firmly confident that, in the future as in the past, every demand will meet a hearty and willing response. let us hope that our work is done, and that blessed with the comforts of peace, we may be permitted to enjoy the pleasures of home and friends. for our comrades who have fallen, let us ever cherish a grateful remembrance. to the wounded and to those who languish in southern prisons, let our heartfelt sympathy be tendered. and now, speaking for myself alone, when the war is ended and the task of the historian begins; when those deeds of daring which have rendered the name and fame of the third cavalry division imperishable are inscribed upon the bright pages of our country's history, i only ask that my name may be written as that of the commander of the third cavalry division. lee's flag of truce at appomattox--a white towel--and also the table on which grant and lee signed the capitulation agreement, were presented to mrs. custer by gen. sheridan, and are now in her possession. in a letter accompanying them sheridan wrote, that he "knew of no person more instrumental in bringing about this most desired event than her own most gallant husband." in the great parade of the army of the potomac at washington in may , sheridan's cavalry were at the head of the column; and the third division, first in peace as it had been first in war, led the advance. custer, now a major-general of volunteers, at the age of years, rode proudly at the head of his troopers, a prominent figure in the stirring pageant, and the observed of all beholders. he had put off for the occasion his careless dashing style of dress, and wore, with becoming dignity, the full regulation uniform of a major-general. shortly after the parade, custer was sent to texas, where he had command of a cavalry division at austin, but no active service became necessary. in march, , he was mustered out of service as a major-general, and took rank as a captain, assigned to the th cavalry, u.s.a. soon afterward, he applied to senor romero, minister from mexico, for a position as chief of president juarez's cavalry, in his struggle with maximilian. he presented a letter of introduction from general grant in which he was spoken of in the most complimentary terms. romero was anxious to secure his services, and made him liberal offers; but as custer could not obtain leave of absence from his government, the contemplated arrangement was not completed. [illustration] chapter xvi. a biographical sketch of major-general custer. (continued.) in july, , custer received from andrew johnson, a commission as lieut. col. of the th cavalry--a new regiment; and after accompanying the president on his famous tour through the country, he proceeded to fort riley, kansas. in the spring of , an expedition under gen. hancock marched from fort riley to fort larned near the arkansas river, and the th cavalry, under lieut. col. custer, accompanied it. the dissatisfied indians had been invited by the indian agent to meet hancock in council at fort larned, and had agreed to do so; but as they failed to appear at the appointed time, hancock started for a village of sioux and cheyenne indians, distant some miles from the fort. on the way he met several of the chiefs, and they agreed to hold a council at hancock's camp on the next day, april th. as none of the chiefs came, as promised, hancock again started for their village, and soon came upon several hundred indians drawn up in battle array directly across his path. the troops were immediately formed in line of battle, and then the general, with some of his officers and the interpreter, rode forward and invited the chiefs to a meeting between the lines, which were half a mile apart. the invitation was accepted; several chiefs advanced to the officers, and a friendly interview was holden--all seeming pleased at the peaceful turn things had taken. the result of the "talk" was an arrangement for a council to be held at hancock's headquarters after he had camped near the indian village, toward which both parties then proceeded. it was ascertained on reaching it that the women and children had been sent away; and during the night the warriors, unobserved by the white men, also fled, leaving their lodges and stores. mistrusting something of the kind, custer, with the cavalry, had during the night stealthily surrounded the village, and on entering it later found it deserted. pursuit of the indians was commenced, but their trail soon scattered so it could not be followed. after burning the deserted village, the expedition returned to fort hayes, where the th cavalry wintered. the next summer, custer with several companies of his regiment and wagons, was sent on a long scouting expedition to the southward in search of indians. leaving fort hayes in june, he proceeded to fort mcpherson on the platte river, and thence to the forks of the republican river in the indian country. from this place he sent major j.a. elliott, on the d of june, with ten men and one guide, to carry despatches to gen. sherman at fort sedgwick, miles distant. the wagons, escorted by cavalry, were also started the same day to procure supplies from fort wallace, about the same distance away in an opposite direction. early the next morning, an attack was made on the camp, but the soldiers rallied so promptly and effectively that the indians soon withdrew. interpreters were then sent toward them, who arranged for a council which was held near by. after an unsatisfactory interview, custer returned to his camp and started in pursuit of the indians, but was unable to overtake them. on the fifth day after his departure, major elliott returned in safety to the camp. he had traveled only by night, and had seen no indians. the wagon train was not so fortunate. it reached fort wallace safely, and started to return escorted by troopers. on the way it was attacked by a large number of indians, who for three hours kept up a running fight around the circle. the wagons moved forward in two strings, with the cavalry horses between them for safety, and the dismounted soldiers defended them so successfully that their progress forward was uninterrupted. meanwhile custer, fearing for the safety of the train, had sent out cavalry to meet it; and their approach caused the indians to cease from their attack and withdraw. the balance of the journey was safely accomplished. resuming his march, custer again struck the platte, some distance west of fort sedgwick. here he learned by telegraph that lieut. kidder with ten men and an indian scout had started from fort sedgwick, with despatches for custer directing him to proceed to fort wallace, shortly after major elliott had left the fort. as kidder had not returned and custer had not seen him, fears for his safety were entertained, and custer immediately started for his late camp at the forks of the republican. on the way thither some of his men deserted, and being followed and refusing to surrender, were fired upon, and three were wounded. on reaching the camp, an examination was made by the indian guide, and it was ascertained that kidder's party had arrived there in safety, and continued on towards fort wallace, over the trail made by the wagons. in the morning custer started in pursuit, and by noon it became evident by the tracks of their horses, that kidder's party had been hard chased for several miles. further on one of their horses was found, shot dead; and at last the mutilated and arrow-pierced bodies of the men were found lying near each other. they had been chased, overtaken, and killed by the savages. they were buried in one grave, and the troops proceeded to fort wallace. custer had been ordered to report to gen. hancock at fort wallace, and receive further orders from him; but on arriving there he found that the general had retired to fort leavenworth. the location of fort wallace was isolated and remote from railroads, and as the stock of provisions was low, custer decided to go for supplies. he started on the evening of july th, with men, and arrived at fort hayes on the morning of july th, having marched miles, with a loss of two men who had been surprised by indians. he then proceeded to fort harker, miles further on, and after making arrangements for the supplies, obtained from gen. smith permission to visit his wife, who was at fort riley, miles distant by rail. soon after this custer was arraigned before a court-martial, charged with leaving fort wallace without orders, and making a journey on private business, during which two soldiers were killed; also for over-tasking his men on the march, and for cruelty while quelling a mutiny. after trial, he was pronounced guilty of a breach of discipline in making a journey on private business (which he earnestly denied) and acquitted of the other charges. his sentence was a suspension of pay and rank for a year, during which period he remained in private life, while his regiment was engaged in an expedition under gen. sully. in october, , custer was recalled into service, and joined his regiment at fort dodge on the arkansas river. early in nov., a winter campaign against the indians was commenced. gen. sully, with the th cavalry, detachments of infantry, and a large supply train, marched to the borders of the indian country and established a post called camp supply. on the d of nov., custer with his regiment of about men started out in a snow storm on a scout for the enemy. the next day a trail was discovered and pursued, and at night the troops were in the valley of the washita river, and near an indian village which had been seen from a distance. the village was stealthily surrounded, and at daybreak an attack was made simultaneously by several detachments. the indians were taken entirely by surprise. the warriors fled from the village, but took shelter behind trees, logs, and the bank of the stream, and fought with much desperation and courage, but were finally driven off. the village was captured with its contents, including squaws and children who had remained safely in the lodges during the fight. some ponies were also captured. on questioning the squaws, one of them said that she was a sister of the cheyenne chief black kettle, that it was his village that had been captured, and that several other indian villages were located within ten miles--the nearest one being only two miles distant. before custer had time to retreat, hostile indians--reinforcements from the other villages--arrived in such numbers as to surround the captured village, which custer and his men occupied; and an attack was begun which continued nearly all day. the indians were finally driven away. the village and its contents were burned. the captives were allowed to select ponies to ride on, and the balance of the drove were shot. the retreat was begun by a march forward, as if to attack the next village. the indians fled; and after dark custer moved rapidly back toward supply camp, taking the captives along as prisoners of war. in this engagement, known as the battle of the washita, major elliott, capt. hamilton, and privates were killed, and three officers and privates wounded. captains weir, benteen, t.w. custer, and lieut. cook, participated in this fight. it was estimated that at least indians were killed, among whom was the noted chief black kettle. the death of black kettle was much regretted by many white people. gen. harney said respecting him:--"i have worn the uniform of my country years, and i know that black kettle was as good a friend of the united states as i am." col. a.g. boone, a member of the recent indian commission, who had known black kettle for years, said tearfully:--"he was a good man; he was my friend; he was murdered." early in dec., the th cavalry and a kansas cavalry regiment, accompanied by gen. sheridan and staff, again started out to look for indians. the recent battle-ground was revisited, and then the force proceeded along the valley of the washita, finding the sites of several villages which appeared to have been lately and hastily removed. large numbers of lodge poles, and robes, utensils, and stores were left behind; and a broad trail, leading down the river toward fort cobb, miles distant, showed the direction their owners had taken when frightened away from their winter retreat. a pursuit of the trail was commenced, but it soon branched. the troops continued on, and when within miles of fort cobb, indians appeared in front with a flag of truce. they proved to be kiowas led by lone wolf, satanta, and other chiefs. a council was held, and both parties agreed to proceed together to fort cobb; and the indians agreed that they would then remain on their reservation. on the way to the fort, many of the indians slipped away, and as custer then supposed (erroneously) that lone wolf and satanta had been engaged in the recent battle and might also escape, he placed them under guard and took them to fort cobb, where they were held as hostages for the return of the roaming kiowas, who finally came in on learning that sheridan had determined to hang their chiefs if they failed to do so. soon after this, little robe--a cheyenne chief, and yellow bear--a friendly arapahoe, were visiting at fort cobb, and at custer's suggestion sheridan permitted him with a small party to go with these chiefs as a peace ambassador. the mission was successful as far as the arapahoes were concerned, and as its result the whole tribe returned to their reservation. the effort to arrange with the cheyennes proving unavailing, custer with men started, march, , in pursuit of them. on the th of march he arrived in the vicinity of several cheyenne villages, one of which belonged to little robe. several councils were held with the chiefs; and it was ascertained that two white women who had been recently captured in kansas were held as captives in one of the villages. for this reason custer could not attack the indians, who were still intractable, and had to continue negotiations with them. they refused to release the women unless a large ransom was paid. custer subsequently seized four of the chiefs, and threatened to hang them if the white women were not given up unconditionally. this threat produced the desired effect, and the women were surrendered. custer then marched to the supply camp, taking with him the captured chiefs, who begged for freedom as the white women had been given up. their friends also entreated for their release; but custer assured them that the washita prisoners and the captive chiefs would not be liberated until the cheyennes returned to their reservation. this they promised to do, and subsequently kept their word. [illustration] chapter xvii. a biographical sketch of major-general custer. (continued.) a treaty having been made with the indians and peace restored, the th cavalry enjoyed a long season of rest. in the autumn of , it was broken into detachments and distributed to different posts. custer, with two companies, was assigned to a post at elizabethtown, ky., miles from louisville, and in this isolated place he remained two years. during this period of inaction he engaged in literary pursuits and wrote an account of his life on the plains. he also joined in a buffalo-hunt given on the plains in honor of the russian grand duke alexis, and after the hunt he and mrs. custer accompanied the duke in his travels through the southern states. in march, , the th cavalry was ordered to dakota, and in may was encamped at fort rice far up the missouri. here also were assembled other soldiers, and in july the so-called yellowstone expedition, commanded by gen. d.s. stanley, started out on its mission, which was to escort and protect the engineers and surveyors of the northern pacific railroad. the march was westward to the yellowstone and up its valley, accompanied part of the way by steamboats. the country was rough and broken, and the wagon trains were got forward with much difficulty. it was custer's custom to go ahead every day with a small party of road-hunters, to pick out and prepare the most suitable road for the train. on the th of aug., when opposite the mouth of tongue river, as custer and his advance party of about men were enjoying a noon-day siesta in a grove on the bank of the river, they were aroused by the firing of the pickets. a few indians had made a dash to stampede the horses which were grazing near by, and failing in this, were riding back and forth as if inviting pursuit. the soldiers speedily mounted, and custer with men followed the indians, who retreated slowly, keeping out of the reach of shot. after going nearly two miles the retreating indians faced about as if to attack, and simultaneously, mounted warriors emerged from a forest and dashed forward. custer's men immediately dismounted, and while five of them held the horses, the remainder, with breech-loading carbines, awaited the enemy's charge. several rapid volleys were sufficient to repulse the indians, and cause them to take shelter in the woods from which they came. just then the remainder of custer's men came up, and the whole force retreated to the resting place they had so lately vacated. the horses were sheltered in the timber, and the men took advantage of a natural terrace, using it as a breastwork. the indians had followed them closely, and now made persistent but unsuccessful attempts to drive them from their position. being defeated in this, they next tried to burn them out by setting fire to the grass. after continuing their assault for several hours, the indians withdrew at the approach of the main column, and custer and the fresh troops chased them several miles. [illustration: counting his coups.] the same day, two elderly civilians connected with the expedition were murdered while riding in advance of the main column. nearly two years later, charles reynolds, a scout subsequently killed at the battle of the little big horn, while at standing rock agency, heard an indian who was "counting his _coups_," or in other words rehearsing his great achievements, boast of killing two white men on the yellowstone. from his description of the victims and the articles he exhibited, reynolds knew that he was the murderer of the two men. the name of this indian was rain in the face. he was subsequently arrested by captains yates and custer, and taken to fort lincoln where he was interviewed by gen. custer and finally confessed the deed. he was kept a close prisoner in the guardhouse for several months, but managed to escape, and joined sitting bull's band. it is thought by some that he was the identical indian who killed gen. custer, and that he did it by way of revenge for his long imprisonment. there seems to be no real foundation for this theory; but the "revenge of rain in the face" will probably go down to posterity as an historical truth, as it has already been immortalized in verse by one of our most gifted poets, who seems, however, to have overlooked the fact that gen. custer's body was not mutilated. a week after the affair on the yellowstone a large indian trail was discovered leading up the river, and custer was sent in pursuit. on arriving near the mouth of big horn river, it was discovered that the enemy had crossed the yellowstone in "bull boats." as custer had no means of getting across, he camped for the night. early the next morning he was attacked by several hundred warriors, some of whom had doubtless recrossed the river for that purpose. sitting bull was commander of the indians, and large numbers of old men, squaws, and children were assembled on the high bluffs and mounds along the river to witness the fight. after considerable skirmishing custer ordered his troops to charge, and as they advanced the indians fled, and were pursued some distance. in these two engagements our loss was four men killed, and two were wounded. custer's horse was shot under him. there was no further trouble with the indians, and the expedition returned to fort rice about the st of october. later in the autumn, gen. custer was assigned to the command of fort lincoln, on the missouri river, opposite the town of bismark. in the summer of , a military expedition to explore the black hills was decided on, and gen. custer was selected to command it. the column of , troops, escorting a corps of scientists, etc., started from fort lincoln, july st, moved southwesterly about miles to the black hills, and then explored the region. no trouble was experienced with indians, and the expedition returned to fort lincoln in september. mrs. custer had accompanied her husband to the plains when he first went thither, and excepting when he was engaged in some active campaign or both were east, she shared with him the hardships, privations, and pleasures of frontier life. mrs. champney, speaking of her in the _independent_, says:--"she followed the general through all his campaigns, her constant aim being to make life pleasant for her husband and for his command. general custer's officers were remarkably attached to him; to a man they revered and admired his wife. she was with him not only in the idleness of summer camp-life, when the days passed in a _dolce far niente_ resembling a holiday picnic; but in ruder and more dangerous enterprises she was, as far as he would permit, his constant companion." when gen. custer was ordered to fort lincoln mrs. custer went there with him; that retired post was their home for the remainder of his life, and when he started out on his last campaign she parted with him there. [illustration] chapter xviii. a biographical sketch of major-general custer. (continued.) when a campaign against the roaming hostile indians was decided on in , lieut. col. custer was naturally selected as the leader of the dakota column, which was organized at fort lincoln, and mainly composed of his regiment. about this time a congressional committee at washington were investigating the charges against gen. belknap, who had recently resigned the office of secretary of war. many persons were called to testify; and while custer was actively engaged in organizing the sioux expedition, he received a telegraphic summons to appear before the committee. on the receipt of the summons, custer telegraphed to gen. terry, the department commander, informing him of the fact, stating that what he knew as to any charges against the war department was only from hearsay evidence, and asking his advice as to what he had better do. terry, who was a lawyer as well as a soldier, in reply informed custer that his services were indispensable, and that he feared it would delay the expedition if he had to go to washington. he suggested that if custer knew nothing of the matter, he might perhaps get excused from going there. after hearing from terry, custer telegraphed to the chairman of the committee as follows;-- "while i hold myself in readiness to obey the summons of your committee, i telegraph to state that i am engaged upon an important expedition, intended to operate against the hostile indians, and i expect to take the field early in april. my presence here is very necessary. in view of this, would it not be satisfactory for you to forward to me such questions as may be necessary, allowing me to return my replies by mail." as the committee would not consent to the plan proposed, custer went to washington, and was detained there on this business about one month. he was severely cross-examined, but the result showed that he knew but little of the matter in controversy. all he could say of his own knowledge was, that a contractor had turned over to him at fort lincoln a quantity of grain, which he suspected had been stolen from the indian department, as the sacks bore the indian brand. he had at first refused to receive the grain, and had informed the department commander of his suspicions. he had received in reply an order to accept the grain; and he believed that the order emanated from the secretary of war, and so testified before the committee. on returning west, he learned from gen. terry that he alone was responsible for the order to receive the grain; and thereupon, custer telegraphed the fact to mr. clymer, and added:--"as i would not knowingly do injustice to any individual, i ask that this telegram may be appended to and made part of my testimony before your committee." on being discharged by the committee, custer, for the third time it is said, called at the white house, hoping to remove the wrong impression and misunderstanding as to his action before the committee which, he had learned from private sources, the president had received and still entertained. he did not however succeed in getting an interview, and it is said that gen. grant even refused to see him. leaving the white house, custer proceeded to the office of gen. sherman, and learned that the general had gone to new york, but was expected back that evening. custer then took the train for chicago, and on arriving there was halted by gen. sheridan who had received from gen. sherman a telegram dated may nd, as follows:-- "i am this moment advised that general custer started last night for saint paul and fort abraham lincoln. he was not justified in leaving without seeing the president or myself. please intercept him at chicago or saint paul, and order him to halt and await further orders. meanwhile let the expedition from fort lincoln proceed without him." gen. custer was of course greatly surprised on learning that such a telegram had been received, and he immediately telegraphed to gen. sherman a statement of the circumstances under which he left washington. he reminded the general that at their last interview he had stated that he would start west may st, and had been told in reply that it was the best thing he could do; he said further that he had every reason to believe, that in leaving washington when he did he was acting in accordance with the general's advice and wishes; and in conclusion, he reminded the general of his promise that he should go in command of his regiment, and asked that justice might be done him. receiving no answer to this message, he again telegraphed to sherman asking as a favor that he might proceed to fort lincoln where his family was. in reply, sherman telegraphed as follows:-- "before receipt of yours, i had sent orders to gen. sheridan, to permit you to go to fort lincoln on duty, but the president adheres to his conclusion that you are not to go on the expedition." sherman's orders to sheridan were as follows:-- "i have received your despatch of to-day, announcing gen. custer's arrival. have just come from the president, who orders that gen. custer be allowed to rejoin his post, to remain there on duty, but not to accompany the expedition supposed to be on the point of starting against the hostile indians, under gen. terry." general custer accordingly started for fort lincoln, and on arriving at saint paul, may th, he addressed the following letter to president grant:-- "to his excellency the president, through military channels: i have seen your order transmitted through the general of the army, directing that i be not permitted to accompany the expedition about to move against hostile indians. as my entire regiment forms a part of the proposed expedition, and as i am the senior officer of the regiment on duty in this department, i respectfully but most earnestly request that while not allowed to go in command of the expedition, i may be permitted to serve with my regiment in the field. i appeal to you as a soldier to spare me the humiliation of seeing my regiment march to meet the enemy and i not to share its dangers." this appeal to the president was forwarded by gen. terry with the following communication:-- "in forwarding the above, i wish to say expressly, that i have no desire to question the orders of the president, or of my military superiors. whether lieut. col. custer shall be permitted to accompany my column or not, i shall go in command of it. i do not know the reasons upon which the orders already given rest; but if those reasons do not forbid it, lieut, col. custer's services would be very valuable with his command." it may be well to state here the probable causes of the unfriendly feeling which gen. grant at this period manifested toward one whom he had "endorsed to a high degree" ten years previously. the congressional committee hitherto mentioned, had been appointed by the opposition members of the house, and some of its proceedings had, doubtless, annoyed and vexed the president. gen. babcock had been on his staff during the war, and enjoyed his friendship and support even after the damaging disclosures respecting the sale of the post-tradership at a western fort. attempts had also been made about this time to injure grant's administration, by seeking to identify it with the frauds which had been discovered, or which were suspected, and he naturally considered those who volunteered information to the committee as unfriendly to himself. it was currently reported that custer telegraphed to the committee's chairman, that an investigation into the post-traderships upon the upper missouri would reveal a state of things quite as bad as at fort sill; and that in consequence of this communication he was summoned before the committee. but whatever the causes of gen. grant's unfriendliness, or the cruelty charged upon him for showing his displeasure as he did, the result of gen. custer's appeal was creditable to the president. custer resumed his position as terry's trusted coadjutor in fitting out the expedition, and finally marched from fort lincoln as commander of his regiment. it was no disgrace to him that terry accompanied the column, and the best feeling always existed between the two officers. the junction with the montana troops was contemplated at the time, and their commander, col. gibbon, would have ranked lieut. col. custer when their forces united. some commanding general had usually accompanied previous expeditions into the indian country, and it seems probable that gen. terry would have participated in the campaign under any circumstances. besides, it does not appear from custer's despatch to sheridan, that he had been promised more than the command of his regiment. the history of the campaign, and the story of the disastrous battle in which gen. custer lost his life have been given in preceding chapters. his action in attacking the indians before the arrival of gibbon's troops has been the subject of controversy, and by some few even his motives have been impugned. the following paragraphs relative thereto are from the editorial columns of the _army and navy journal_:-- "it was not in terry's instructions, and it clearly was not in his mind, that custer, if he came "in contact with the enemy," should defer fighting him until the infantry came up. * * * there could be no justification whatever for any plan of operations which made an attack dependent upon a junction between custer and gibbon, after three or four days' march from different points. "it has been asserted that, smarting under the wounds which preceding events had inflicted upon his pride, custer dashed recklessly into this affair for the purpose of eclipsing his superior officers in the same field, regardless of cost or consequences. this, it seems to us, is going much too far. custer was doubtless glad of the opportunity to fight the battle alone, and was stimulated by the anticipation of a victory which, illuminating his already brilliant career, would make him outshine those put on duty over him in this campaign. but his management of the affair was probably just about what it would have been under the same circumstances, if he had had no grievance. his great mistake was in acting in mingled ignorance of, and contempt for his enemy. he regarded attack and victory in this instance as synonymous terms, the only point being to prevent the escape of the foe. under this fatal delusion he opened the engagement, with his command divided into four parts, with no certainty of co-operation or support between any two of them. neither ambition, nor wounded vanity, prompted these vicious and fatal dispositions, nor were they due to lack of knowledge of the principles of his profession." chapter xix. a biographical sketch of major-general custer. (concluded.) as the foregoing biography of gen. custer has been confined chiefly to his military career, it may be well in conclusion to give some account of his personal characteristics; and this can be best done in the language of those who knew him well. a gentleman who accompanied gen. custer on the yellowstone and black hills expeditions, contributed to the _new york tribune_ the following:-- "gen. custer was a born cavalryman. he was never more in his element than when mounted on dandy, his favorite horse, and riding at the head of his regiment. he once said to me, 'i would rather be a private in the cavalry than a line officer in the infantry.' he was the personification of bravery and dash. if he had only added discretion to his valor he would have been a perfect soldier. his impetuosity very often ran away with his judgment. he was impatient of control. he liked to act independently of others, and take all the risk and all the glory to himself. he frequently got himself into trouble by assuming more authority than really belonged to his rank. it was on the yellowstone expedition where he came into collision with gen. stanley, his superior officer, and was placed under arrest and compelled to ride at the rear of his column for two or three days, until gen. rosser, who fought against custer in the shenandoah valley during the war but was then acting as engineer of the northern pacific railroad, succeeded in effecting a reconciliation. custer and stanley afterward got on very well, and perhaps the quarrel would never have occurred if the two generals had been left alone to themselves without the intervention of camp gossips, who sought to foster the traditional jealousy between infantry and cavalry. for stanley was the soul of generosity, and custer did not really mean to be arrogant; but from the time when he entered west point to the day when he fell on the big horn, he was accustomed to take just as much liberty as he was entitled to. "for this reason, custer worked most easily and effectively when under general orders, when not hampered by special instructions, or his success made dependent on anybody else. gen. terry understood his man when, in the order directing him to march up the rosebud, he very liberally said: 'the department commander places too much confidence in your zeal, energy, and ability to wish to impose upon you precise orders which might hamper your action when nearly in contact with the enemy.' but gen. terry did not understand custer if he thought he would wait for gibbon's support before attacking an indian camp. undoubtedly he ought to have done this; but with his native impetuosity, his reckless daring, his confidence in his own regiment, which had never failed him, and his love of public approval, custer could no more help charging this indian camp, than he could help charging just so many buffaloes. he had never learned to spell the word 'defeat;' he knew nothing but success, and if he had met the indians on the open plains, success would undoubtedly have been his; for no body of indians could stand the charge of the th cavalry when it swept over the plains like a whirlwind. but in the mauvaises terres and the narrow valley of the big horn he did it at a fearful risk. "with all his bravery and self-reliance, his love of independent action, custer was more dependent than most men on the kind approval of his fellows. he was even vain; he loved display in dress and in action. he would pay $ for a pair of troop boots to wear on parade, and have everything else in keeping. on the yellowstone expedition he wore a bright red shirt, which made him the best mark for a rifle of any man in the regiment. i remonstrated with him for this reckless exposure, but found an appeal to his wife more effectual, and on the next campaign he wore a buckskin suit. he formerly wore his hair very long, letting it fall in a heavy mass upon his shoulders, but cut it off before going out on the black hills, producing quite a change in his appearance. but if vain and ambitious, custer had none of those great vices which are so common and so distressing in the army. he never touched liquor in any form; he did not smoke, or chew, or gamble. he was a man of great energy and remarkable endurance. he could outride almost any man in his regiment, i believe, if it were put to a test. when he set out to reach a certain point at a certain time, you could be sure that he would be there if he killed every horse in the command. he was sometimes too severe in forcing marches, but he never seemed to get tired himself, and he never expected his men to be so. in cutting our way through the forests of the black hills, i have often seen him take an ax and work as hard as any of the pioneers. he was never idle when he had a pretext for doing anything. whatever he did he did thoroughly. he would overshoot the mark, but never fall short. he fretted in garrison sometimes, because it was too inactive; but he found an outlet here for his energies in writing articles for the press. "he had a remarkable memory. he could recall in its proper order every detail of any action, no matter how remote, of which he was a participant. he was rather verbose in writing, and had no gifts as a speaker; but his writings interested the masses from their close attention to details, and from his facility with the pen as with the sword in bringing a thing to a climax. as he was apt to overdo in action, so he was apt to exaggerate in statement, not from any wilful disregard of the truth, but because he saw things bigger than they really were. he did not distort the truth; he magnified it. he was a natural optimist. he took rose-colored views of everything, even of the miserable lands of the northern pacific railroad. he had a historical memory, but not a historical mind. he was no philosopher; he could reel off facts from his mind better than he could analyze or mass them. he was not a student, nor a deep thinker. he loved to take part in events rather than to brood over them. he was fond of fun, genial and pleasant in his manner; a loving and devoted husband. it was my privilege to spend two weeks in his family at one time, and i know how happy he was in his social relations." the following rambling remarks are accredited to a general, whose name is not given:-- "the truth about custer is, that he was a pet soldier, who had risen not above his merit, but higher than men of equal merit. he fought with phil sheridan, and through the patronage of sheridan he rose; but while sheridan liked his valor and dash he never trusted his judgment. he was to sheridan what murat was to napoleon. while sheridan is always cool, custer was always aflame. rising to high command early in life, he lost the repose necessary to success in high command. * * * then custer must rush into politics, and went swinging around the circle with johnson. he wanted to be a statesman, and but for sheridan's influence with grant, the republicans would have thrown him; but you see we all liked custer, and did not mind his little freaks in that way any more than we would have minded temper in a woman. sheridan, to keep custer in his place, kept him out on the plains at work. he gave him a fine command--one of the best cavalry regiments in the service. the colonel, sturgis, was allowed to bask in the sunshine in a large city, while custer was the real commander. in this service custer did well, and vindicated the partiality of sheridan as well as the kind feelings of his friends. * * * the old spirit which sent custer swinging around the circle revived in him. he came east and took a prominent part in reforming the army. this made feeling, and drew upon custer the anger of the inside forces of the administration. "then he must write his war memoirs. well, in these memoirs he began to write recklessly about the army. he took to praising mcclellan as the greatest man of the war, and, coming as it did when the democrats began to look lively, it annoyed the administration. grant grew so much annoyed that even sheridan could do no good, and custer was disgraced. technically it was not a disgrace. all that grant did was to put terry, a general, over custer, a lieutenant-colonel, who had his regiment all the same; but all things considered, it was a disgrace." the following is from an article by gen. a.b. nettleton, published in the _philadelphia times_:-- "it must be remembered that in fighting with cavalry, which was custer's forte, instantaneous quickness of eye--that is, the lightning-like formation and execution of successive correct judgments on a rapidly-shifting situation--is the first thing, and the second is the power of inspiring the troopers with that impetuous yet intelligent ardor with which a mounted brigade becomes a thunderbolt, and without which it remains a useless mass of horses and riders. these qualities gen. custer seemed to me to manifest, throughout the hard fighting of the last year of the war, to a degree that was simply astounding, and in a manner that marked him as one of the few really great cavalry commanders developed by the wars of the present century. of fear, in the sense of dread of death or of bodily harm, he was absolutely destitute, yet his love of life and family and home was keen and constant, leaving no room in his nature for desperation, recklessness, or conscious rashness. in handling his division under sheridan's general oversight, he seemed to act always on the belief that in campaigning with cavalry, when a certain work must be done, audacity is the truest caution. in action, when all was going well and success was only a question of time or of steady 'pounding,' gen. custer did not unnecessarily expose himself, but until the tide of battle had been turned in the right direction, and especially when disaster threatened, the foremost point in our division's line was almost invariably marked by the presence of custer, his waving division tri-color and his plucky staff. "a major-general of wide and splendid fame at twenty-five, and now slain at thirty-six, the gallant custer had already lived long if life be measured by illustrious deeds." the following is from a sketch of gen. custer published in the _army and navy journal_:-- "custer was passionately addicted to active and exciting sports as the turf and hunting. he was a splendid horseman and a lover of the horse; he attended many american race-meetings and ran his own horses several times in the west. his greyhounds and staghounds went with him at the head of his regiment, to be let slip at antelope or buffalo. with rifle or shotgun he was equally expert, and had killed his grizzly bear in the most approved fashion. * * * bold to rashness; feverish in camp, but cool in action; with the personal vanity of a carpet knight, and the endurance and insensibility to fatigue of the hardiest and boldest rough rider; a prince of scouts; a chief of guides, threading a trackless prairie with unerring eye of a native and the precision of the needle to the star; by no means a martinet, his men were led by the golden chain of love, admiration and confidence. he had the proverbial assurance of a hussar, but his personal appearance varied with occasion. during the war he was 'custer of the golden locks, his broad sombrero turned up from his hard-bronzed face, the ends of his crimson cravat floating over his shoulder, gold galore spangling his jacket sleeves, a pistol in his boot, jangling spurs on his heels, and a ponderous claymore swinging at his side.' and long after, when he roamed a great indian fighter on the plains, the portrait was only slightly changed. the cavalry jacket was exchanged for the full suit of buckskin, beautifully embroidered by indian maidens; across his saddle rested a modern sporting rifle, and at his horse's feet demurely walked hounds of unmixed breed. again, within a few months, he appears in private society as an honored guest; scrupulously avoiding anything like display, but in a quiet conventional suit of blue, with the 'golden locks' closely shorn, and the bronzed face pale from recent indisposition, he moves almost unnoticed in the throng." the faithful correspondent who perished with gen. custer on the little big horn portrayed him thus:-- "a man of strong impulses, of great hearted friendships and bitter enmities; of quick, nervous temperament, undaunted courage, will, and determination; a man possessing electric mental capacity, and of iron frame and constitution; a brave, faithful, gallant soldier, who has warm friends and bitter enemies; the hardest rider, the greatest pusher; with the most untiring vigilance overcoming seeming impossibilities, and with an ambition to succeed in all things he undertakes; a man to do right, as he construes right, in every case; one respected and beloved by his followers, who would freely follow him into the 'jaws of hell.'" gen. custer's last battle "will stand in history as one of the most heroic engagements ever fought, and his name will be respected so long as chivalry is applauded and civilization battles against barbarism." chapter xx. the sioux treaty of --indian orators. in , the black hills country had acquired a white population and an importance which rendered its possession and control by the government desirable and necessary; and an attempt was made to treat with the indians for its purchase, but without success. in , congress expressed its determination to appropriate nothing more for the subsistence of the sioux indians unless they made certain concessions, including the surrender of the black hills, and entered into some agreement calculated to enable them to become self-supporting. geo. w. manypenny, h. c. bullis, newton edmunds, rt. rev. h.b. whipple, a.g. boone, a.s. gaylord, j.w. daniels, and gen. h.h. sibley, were appointed commissioners to negotiate for the concessions demanded. the following is an extract from their instructions under which they acted:-- "the president is strongly impressed with the belief that the agreement which shall be best calculated to enable the indians to become self-supporting is one which shall provide for their removal, at as early a day as possible, to the indian territory. for the past three years they have been kept from starvation by large appropriations for their subsistence. these appropriations have been a matter not of obligation but of charity, and the indians should be made to understand distinctly that they can hope for continued appropriations only by full submission to the authority and wishes of the government, and upon full evidence of their disposition to undertake, in earnest, measures for their own advancement and support." the first council was held sept. th, at red cloud agency, with chiefs and headmen representing , indians then at the agency. red cloud and other chiefs met the commissioners with warm welcomes, and said with deep earnestness:--"we are glad to see you; you have come to save us from death." the conditions required by congress were then submitted to the indians, with the assurance that the commissioners had no authority to change them in any particular; but that they were authorized to devise a plan to save their people from death and lead them to civilization. the plan decided on was then carefully explained and interpreted, and a copy of the agreement given to the indians to take to their own council. other councils were held sept. th and th, and after mutual explanations the agreement was signed. subsequently, the commissioners visited spotted tail agency, standing rock agency, cheyenne river agency, crow creek agency, lower brule agency, and santee agency. at all of these agencies the agreement was made plain to the indians, and after due deliberation and considerable discussion, duly signed. the following are extracts from the report of the commissioners:-- "while the indians received us as friends, and listened with kind attention to our propositions, we were painfully impressed with their lack of confidence in the pledges of the government. at times they told their story of wrongs with such impassioned earnestness that our cheeks crimsoned with shame. in their speeches, the recital of the wrongs which their people had suffered at the hands of the whites, the arraignment of the government for gross acts of injustice and fraud, the description of treaties made only to be broken, the doubts and distrusts of present professions of friendship and good-will, were portrayed in colors so vivid and language so terse, that admiration and surprise would have kept us silent had not shame and humiliation done so. said a chief to a member of our commission:--'i am glad to see you, you are our friends, but i hear that you have come to move us. tell your people that since the great father promised that we should never be removed we have been moved five times.' he added, with bitter irony, 'i think you had better put the indians on wheels so you can run them about wherever you wish.' "the present condition of the sioux indians is such as to awaken the deepest sympathy. they were our friends. if many of this powerful tribe have been changed to relentless foes, we must not forget that it is the simple outcome of our own indian training-school. generals sherman, harney, terry, and others, use these words:-- 'the moment the war of the rebellion was over, thousands of our people turned their attention toward the treasures of montana. the indian was forgotten. it did not occur to any man that this poor, despised red man was the original discoverer, and sole occupant for many centuries, of every mountain seamed with quartz and every stream whose yellow sand glittered in the noonday sun. he asked to retain only a secluded spot where the buffalo and elk could live, and that spot he would make his home. the truth is, no place was left for him. if the lands of the white men are taken, civilization justifies him in resisting the invader. civilization does more than this--it brands him as a coward and a slave if he submits to the wrong. if the savage resists, civilization, with the ten commandments in one hand and the sword in the other, demands his immediate extermination. that he goes to war is not astonishing. he is often compelled to do so. wrongs are borne by him in silence that never fail to drive civilized men to deeds of violence. * * * but it is said that our wars with them have been almost constant. have we been uniformly unjust? we answer unhesitatingly, 'yes.'" "general stanley in writes from dakota, that he is 'ashamed to appear any longer in the presence of the chiefs of the different tribes of the sioux, who inquire why we do not do as we promised, and in their vigorous language aver that we have lied.' sitting bull, who had refused to come under treaty relations with the government, based his refusal in these words, sent to the commission of which assistant secretary cowen was chairman: 'whenever you have found a white man who will tell the truth, you may return, and i shall be glad to see you.'" "it has been claimed that all indians found outside of their reservation shall be regarded as hostile. gen. sheridan, june th, , says in an official order, that all indians outside the well-defined limits of the reservation are under the original and exclusive jurisdiction of the military authority, _and as a rule will be considered hostile_. this order is the more surprising to us when we remember that the treaty made by general sherman and others expressly provided that these indians might hunt upon the unceded territory; and we find that so late as its last session congress appropriated $ , to be used in part for the payment of the seventh of thirty installments '_for indians roaming_.' we repeat that, under this treaty, it is expressly provided that the indians may hunt in the unceded territory north and west of the sioux reservation, and until last year they had the right to hunt in western nebraska. we believe that our failure to recognize this right has led to many conflicts between the citizens and army of the united states and the indians." "in , the late lamented gen. custer made an expedition to the black hills. it was done against the protest of the indians and their friends, and in plain, direct violation of the treaty. gold was discovered, white men flocked to the el dorado. notwithstanding the gross violation of the treaty, no open war ensued. if our own people had a sad story of wrongs suffered from the indians, we must not forget that the indians, who own no telegraph-lines, who have no press and no reporters, claimed that they, too, had been the victims of lawless violence, and had a country of untold value wrested from them by force. "the charge is made that the agency indians are hostile, and that they have furnished ammunition and supplies to the indians with sitting bull. there is water-navigation for , miles through this territory, and an unguarded border of several hundred miles along the canadian frontier. so long as the indians will sell buffalo-robes at a low price and pay two prices for guns, the greed of white men will furnish them. it is gross injustice to the agents and the interior department to accuse them of furnishing arms and ammunition for indians to fight our army and murder our citizens. "of the results of this year's war we have no wish to speak. it is a heart-rending record of the slaughter of many of the bravest of our army. it has not only carried desolation and woe to hundreds of our own hearthstones, but has added to the cup of anguish which we have pressed to the lips of the indian. we fear that when others shall examine it in the light of history, they will repeat the words of the officers who penned the report of :--'the results of the year's campaign satisfied all reasonable men that the war was useless and expensive.' "we hardly know how to frame in words the feelings of shame and sorrow which fill our hearts as we recall the long record of the broken faith of our government. it is made more sad, in that the rejoicings of our centennial year are mingled with the wail of sorrow of widows and orphans made by a needless indian war, and that our government has expended more money in this war than all the religious bodies of our country have spent in indian missions since our existence as a nation. "after long and careful examination we have no hesitation in recommending that it is wise to continue the humane policy inaugurated by president grant. the great obstacle to its complete success is that no change has been made in the laws for the care of indians. the indian is left without the protection of law in person, or property, or life. he has no personal rights. he has no redress for wrongs inflicted by lawless violence. he may see his crops destroyed, his wife or child killed. his only redress is personal revenge. * * * in the indian's wild state he has a rude government of chiefs and headmen, which is advisory in its character. when located upon reservations under the charge of a united states agent, this government is destroyed, and we give him nothing in its place. "we are aware that many of our people think that the only solution of the indian problem is in their extermination. we would remind such persons that there is only one who can exterminate. there are too many graves within our borders over which the grass has hardly grown, for us to forget that god is just. the indian is a savage, but he is also a man. he is one of the few savage men who clearly recognize the existence of a great spirit. he believes in the immortality of the soul. he has a passionate love for his children. he loves his country. he will gladly die for his tribe. unless we deny all revealed religion, we must admit that he has the right to share in all the benefits of divine revelation. he is capable of civilization. amid all the obstacles, the wrongs, and evils of our indian policy, there are no missions which show richer rewards. thousands of this poor race, who were once as poor and degraded as the wild sioux, are to-day civilized men, living by the cultivation of the soil, and sharing with us in those blessings which give to men home, country, and freedom. there is no reason why these men may not also be led out of darkness to light." the following is a synopsis of the arrangement agreed on by the commissioners and indians:-- the sioux surrender all claim to so much of their reservation as lies west of the d meridian of longitude, and to so much of it as lies between the north and south forks of the cheyenne river east of said meridian; also all claim to any country lying outside of their reservation. cannon ball river and its south branch are to be the northern boundary of the reservation. three wagon or other roads may be maintained across the reservation from the missouri river to the black hills. all subsistence and supplies which may be hereafter provided, are to be delivered on or near the missouri river. a delegation of chiefs and leading men from each band shall visit the indian territory, with a view to selecting therein a permanent home for the indians. if such delegation shall make a selection satisfactory to the indians they represent and to the united states, then the indians are to remove to the selected country within one year, select allotments as soon as possible afterwards, and use their best efforts to cultivate the same. they are in all things to submit themselves to such beneficent plans as the government may provide for them in the selection of a permanent home where they may live like white men. the united states agree to furnish subsistence to the sioux until such time as they shall become self-supporting--rations to be issued to heads of families; and in case the indians are located on lands suitable for cultivation, and educational facilities are afforded by the government, the issue of rations is to be conditioned on the performance of labor by the indians and the attendance of their children at school. assistance in the way of schools and instruction in the agricultural and mechanical arts, as provided by the treaty of , is guaranteed; and the building of comfortable houses on allotments in severalty is provided for. the sioux are declared amenable to the laws of the united states; and congress shall secure to them an orderly government and protect individual property, person, and life. the agreement not to be binding on either party till approved by congress and the president. with the exception of the santees, the indians on the missouri river objected to visiting the indian territory, and were exempted from that part of the agreement by a supplementary clause. a delegation of indians from the red cloud and spotted tail agencies visited the indian territory in october as provided in the agreement. the following is from the report of commissioners boone and daniels who accompanied the delegation:-- "while travelling through the territory, spotted tail took special pains to inform us that he was not pleased with anything that came within his observation, and his part of the delegation, with but few exceptions, were not disposed to express themselves in any other way. many of the red cloud party were well pleased. their chief said 'his great father asked him to go and find a place where his children could live by cultivating the land. this was the country, and he should go back and tell his people so.' the manual-labor school of scholars at the cheyenne and arapahoe agency, was of more interest to them and gave them more pleasure than anything else seen on the journey. they manifested much interest in the progress of civilization among the sac and fox, and when passing the creek country, the delegation was received by these tribes with generous hospitality and a hearty welcome. when we were at okmulgee, the capital of the creek nation, they were invited to the council-house by the creek chief, where he made a very friendly speech to them. the following is a copy thereof:-- "to the sioux, my brethren:--i am well pleased to see you here in the mus-koke nation, brethren of the same race as ourselves. i was told a long time ago of my red brethren, the sioux, that were living in the far northwest. i had heard of the name of your tribe and of many of your leading chiefs. i have heard of your great men, great in war, and great in council. i have heard of your trouble on account of the intrusion of the white men on your reservation in search of gold. i have heard that the united states government had determined to remove you from your present home, and, perhaps it might be, to this indian territory, to the west of us. when i heard that you might possibly come to this territory, which has been 'set apart for the home of the indians forever,' i was glad. i would like to have all our red brethren settled in this territory, as we have provided in our treaty. we, the creeks and cherokees, have the same kind of title and patent for our lands from the united states, which guarantees this territory to us for a home, under our own form of government, by people of our own race, as long as 'grass grows and water runs.' and i think, therefore, we shall live forever on our lands. i should like--and i express the wish of our people--that every indian tribe should come here and settle on these lands, that this territory may become filled up with indians, to the exclusion of others who may be inimical to our race and interests. we believe our right to our soil and our government, which is best suited to our peculiar necessities, would be safer if all our race were united together here. this is my earnest wish. then i think the rising generation could be educated and civilized, and, what is still better, christianized, which, i believe, would be the greatest benefit of all. this would be to our mutual benefit and good. i know i express the minds of our people when i give you this welcome to our life of a higher civilization, which is better than the old life so long led by our race in the past." at the councils held at the different agencies, the chiefs and principal men made numerous speeches, which conveyed a good idea of indian views and feelings, and were often able and eloquent. the balance of this chapter will be filled up with extracts from some of these speeches. _red cloud agency._ fast bear:--my good friends, you have come here to ask me for something, and i have come here to-day to answer. you ask me to give up the mountains that are to the north of us, and i answer yes to that question. i give them up. you are here also to ask me to take a journey to look at a country, and i also answer yes to that question. i consent for my young men to go down there and see that country; but they must look at it in silence, and come back in silence. when they have seen the country i will consider it. if it is good i will consider it so; if bad i will consider that it is bad. do you understand, my friends, what i last said to you? we do not agree to go there to live before we have seen the country. young-man-afraid-of-his-horse:--my father shook hands with the dakotas peacefully on the platte river. i have been brought up here from a boy until i got to be a chief. the soldiers have no business in this country at all. i wish to tell you plainly that i have been very much ashamed ever since the soldiers came here. this is my country, and i have remained here with my women and children eating such things as the great father has sent us. i am going to ask the great father for a great many things, things that will make me rich. i am going to ask for so much that i am afraid the great father will not consent to give it to me. i want you to tell the great father that i, and all the men like me, and the children, are going to ask him for a great many things, and we expect to have food, and blankets to wear as long as we live. black coal:--this place here is a place of peace, where we and our people have lived together happily, and behaved ourselves, and we do not understand why so many soldiers have come here among us. we have never had any trouble and have behaved ourselves, and wish to have the soldiers sent away as soon as possible, and leave us in peace. the people that live here have both minds and hearts and good sense, but it seems as if the great father all at once thought differently, and speaks of us as people that are very bad. red cloud:--the commissioners have both brains and hearts. the great father has sent you here to visit me and my people, and i want that you should help us. we see a great many soldiers here in our country. we do not like to see them here. i want you to have pity upon us, and have them all taken away. i understand all the ways of the whites. i know that everything that has been said has been written down, and i should like to have a fair copy of that made and given to me. little wound:--i always considered that when the great father borrowed the country for the overland road that he made an arrangement with us that was to last fifty years as payment for that privilege, and yesterday another arrangement was mentioned concerning the black hills, and the words that i heard from the great father and from the commissioners from the great council made me cry. the country upon which i am standing is the country upon which i was born, and upon which i heard that it was the wish of the great father and of the great council that i should be like a man without a country. i shed tears. i wish that the chief men among you that have come here to see me would help me, and would change those things that do not suit me. _spotted tail agency._ spotted tail:--my friends that have come here to see me; you have brought to us words from the great father at washington, and i have considered them now for seven days, and have made up my mind. this is the fifth time that you have come. at the time of the first treaty that was made on horse creek--the one we call the "great treaty"--there was provision made to borrow the overland road of the indians, and promises made at the time of the treaty, though i was a boy at the time; they told me it was to last fifty years. these promises have not been kept. all the words have proved to be false. the next conference was the one held with gen. manydear, when there were no promises made in particular, nor for any amount to be given to us, but we had a conference with him and made friends and shook hands. then after that there was a treaty made by gen. sherman. he told us we should have annuities and goods from that treaty for thirty-five years. he said this, but yet he didn't tell the truth. he told me the country was mine, and that i should select any place i wished for my reservation and live in it. my friends, i will show you well his words to-day. * * * i see that my friends before me are men of age and dignity. i think that each of you have selected somewhere a good piece of land for himself, with the intention of living on it, that he may there raise up his children. my people, that you see here before you, are not different; they also live upon the earth and upon the things that come to them from above. my friends, this seems to me to be a very hard day, and we have come upon very difficult times. this war did not spring up here in our land; this war was brought upon us by the children of the great father who came to take our land from us without price, and who, in our land, do a great many evil things. we have a store-house to hold our provisions the great father sends us, but he sends very little provisions to put in our store-house. when our people become displeased with their provisions and have gone north to hunt in order that they might live, the great father's children are fighting them. it has been our wish to live in our country peaceably, but the great father has filled it with soldiers who think only of our death. it seems to me there is a better way than this. when people come to trouble, it is better for both parties to come together without arms and talk it over and find some peaceful way to settle it. my friends, you have come to me to-day, and mentioned two countries to me. one of them i know of old--the missouri river. it is not possible for me to go there. when i was there before we had a great deal of trouble. i left also of my people buried there. the other country you have mentioned is one i have never seen since i was born, but i agree to go and look at it. when men have a difficult business to settle it is not possible it should be well settled in one day; it takes at least twelve months to consider it. spotted tail:--(_second council._) this war has come from robbery--from the stealing of our land. my friends, i wish to tell the great father "let us consider this matter." there are on both sides a great many widows and a great many orphans. let us consider who is to take care of these. this matter has not been begun with judgment; and i think it is displeasing to the great spirit. the great father sent you out here to buy our land and we have agreed together to that, but with one understanding:--that it shall be the end, also, of this war. we have always been peaceful friends of the great father, and shall remain at peace with him; but all at once a whirlwind has passed over our land, and the ammunition has been locked up so that we cannot get it to hunt game to live upon. now we shake hands and make peace and wish it to be unlocked so we can buy ammunition. you know this trouble does not please the great spirit, and i want you to help me to blot it out. baptiste good:--you have come here with considerations that will make my people live, and my heart is glad. when gen. sherman came to make a treaty with my people, i was also glad. that was like the birth of a child. i wish you would tell the great father we need implements to work with, and wagons for two horses. i have worn out my fingers working without implements. i have planted corn, and i am happy to say it has grown up and produced fruit. the white minister has come here to teach me, but i don't think it is done properly. i would like to have some female ministers come dressed in black to receive the girls in one house and teach them, and have white male ministers in black hat and coat to teach the boys in another house separately. blue teeth:--just such men as you came to make the treaty with me. they showed me a road to walk in, and i showed my people and advised them according to their words, and they were glad. but the things they promised me didn't turn out as they promised them. i am the man that heard the promises made. spotted tail told you about that yesterday, according to my direction, but i was hiding myself. i want the man pointed out that is going to talk to the great father. [judge gaylord is pointed out.] you see that pipe: take it, [handing to judge gaylord a pipe and tobacco-pouch.] the great spirit gave me that pipe. he told me to point it to my mother, the earth, when i prayed. i wish you to take it to the great father at washington, and tell him a man that made a speech here presented it to him, and ask him to be merciful to him and help him to live. tell him this is my country, and for him to have pity upon me and not move me away from it. i want to live here always. _standing rock agency._ john grass:--look well at me with both eyes and listen to me with both ears. i have considered the words you have brought me, and i am ready to answer you. the chiefs you see here have all come to the same conclusion. you have brought words to the chiefs here that will bring life to their children; that will make their children live; they answer _how_ [signifying their approval] to that. and now since they have ceded their country to you, they want to tell you of certain things that they shall want in the future. running antelope:--when people shake hands and talk, they talk in earnest. i want you to look on this man kill eagle, with his people who are prisoners here. he is one of us and is our kindred. kindred living with each other love each other, and when they get into trouble they help each other out, and we look on these indians the same as white. he went out to the hostile camp, held his gun, witnessed a fight, and came back. i want before the sun sets to see these men released. i am an old man, and i ask these things as a favor. in regard to this store. i have been to see the great father, and the white people are wealthy. even they have stores one right against the other, touching each other. when a man goes in a store and finds something he wants and cannot obtain it as cheaply as he desires, he goes into another, and so on until he gets what he wants and at the proper price. we want to do so here. two bears:--hail great spirit, and hail my friends who i see here, and hail great father! my heart is this day made glad by seeing you here. you prayed to the great spirit and that made our hearts glad. i was the chief owner of this country, but the great father turned it over to his young men. this was a hard thing for him to do to me; now that he proposes to pay me for it i am very glad. i am of the fifth generation of the sioux indians, and the sixth generation is growing up around me. i want the government to provide for the same number of generations in the future. i am making this trade with the great father, and i am not a white man and am not able to live like a white man. they eat but little, but i am not able to get along with a little yet. the great spirit fed me, and fed me in large quantities. i eat all day, and eating great quantities has become a habit with me. i am afraid of frightful things; i am afraid of bad things; i am afraid of a battle. i like good things, and straightforward dealings. for two winters i was starving and have eaten a great number of my horses and dogs. in consequence of this starvation many of our people fled from the agency in search of food, and while they were out one of them got into trouble. [referring to kill eagle.] mad bear:--i am an indian, a poor, miserable indian, but if i should do as has been done by us, the great spirit would dislike, and hate me, and for that reason i cannot do these things. men, civilians, that we have had for agents would steal our food, steal things that were sent to us. it is the fault of the white men that this is done. they select men that belong to the ring. when one agent is removed they select his friend to succeed him, and so the stealing goes on. the matter of their traders alone is enough to drive the indians hostile. it would drive a white man hostile to be treated as we are treated, and to be charged prices as our traders charge us for goods. if an indian succeeds in getting a dollar he takes it to the store to trade, and what he receives in return for it amounts to probably half a dime. we want the monopoly of trading stores stopped. the work, the labor, everything is monopolized by white men, who have everything their own way. it is hard to be an indian chief. our young men do not listen to us--they will not mind us. fool dog:--the great spirit created these men and they expect to raise children after them. generations are not to stop here, they are still to go on living, and we look to you for help and assistance. i am an indian, and am looked on by the whites as a foolish man; but it must be because i follow the advice of the white man. long soldier:--the great spirit called me forth to be a chief, and this day i say _how_ to you. the great father has asked me for a portion of my country and has made me an offer in return for it. i am very glad to get what has been offered to me, and i therefore say _how_ to your proposition. i am a very suspicious man and always suspect people of some evil designs when they talk to me, and therefore remain at home. my father, who has instructed me to be a friend of the whites, is still living, and i want him to share in the benefits that arise from the sale of the black hills. two bears:--my friends, to-day we have talked together with smiles on our faces, and we are going to sign this paper with the understanding that everything in it is true, and that we are not deceiving each other. my children are very poor and very ignorant, and they don't know anything about weights and measures, and if you are going to issue my rations by weight i want you to give good measure. in signing this agreement i don't sign it myself; i have a young man who is my hope for the future. although i touch the pen myself, i touch it for my son, who is to be my successor. drag wood:--i am an old man and my bones are getting sore, and i want my son to sign this agreement with me. wolf necklace:--i never want to leave this country; all my relatives are lying here in the ground, and when i fall to pieces i am going to fall to pieces here. _cheyenne river agency._ long mandan:--i am glad of one thing; the great father knows that this is my country, and before he takes it from me he is going to ask my permission. our people are poor, they have nothing in their lodges, and if you will visit them you would feel disposed to bring many things to them to-day. my friends, when i went to washington i went into your money-house, and i had some young men with me, but none of them took any money out of that house while i was with them. at the same time, when your great father's people come into my country, they go into my money-house and take money out. more than that, they commit depredations on us; and stole fifty head of horses and took them away from me. if the great father was not a great man and was not a man that had great power and a good man, i should have been mad; but he is a great man and a good man, and that is the reason that i have not been offended at him. i would much rather have gone to washington with my people and have signed this treaty there. i do not want to spend a great deal of money for the great father, but at the same time i know that the great father is wealthy. i want to tap the telegraph that is over the river, and talk to the great father in that way, and to have him answer me in the same way. i want him to give me plenty of mowing-machines, and i would like very much to have a good blacksmith. i will show you something to-day that i have done in this country in the way of farming; a large pumpkin that i have sent to be brought here to show you. my friends, you may think that i never raised it when you see it, but i want to show it to you, and have sent for it. red feather:--the great father asked me in regard to the missions and churches and schools, and told me i must take hold of that and assist him. there were two ministers here, and i regarded them as two canes to walk upon and help me up with. there is one thing that the people of the great father have that i do not want, and that is whisky. i do not want any whisky on my reservation. whenever a man drinks whisky he loses his senses, and that is the reason why i object to it. duck:--the soldiers that are fighting have killed a great many people on both sides, and have made many widows and orphans on both sides. i am sorry to know that anybody was killed on either side. all the badness and all the trouble that has occurred here formerly, i gather it up in my hand and throw it away; tell the great father that. look at this people; they are poor people; they have a hard time to get what little furs and hides they have; but when we take them to the stores we do not get enough for them. if you are not afraid of me, and do not think i am fooling with you, i would like to have you attend to this hide business, and see that we get $ apiece for them. white bull:--i see, my friends, the soldiers standing here about me. they are people whose business it is to die, but we think better things for them. we have given them the black hills; we wish they would go there and dig gold without being afraid of anybody. _crow creek agency._ white ghost:--around and about the hills on the prairies there are a great many dead people lying, but the great father has decided to give us a good price for the hills; therefore it is--because the great father is strong--that we are willing to give them up. we live right near a trading-post, and we become poor because we have not money to buy those things we want. i do not wish you to think that i am finding fault or out of temper. i merely say the things i am instructed to say. my people wish to have it understood that they do not wish to have any soldiers sent here or any soldier for an agent. i must tell everything that i am instructed to say; they are all here listening to see whether i say everything, and i must say all that i have been told. we would like to have mr. premeau appointed for interpreter. he is a white man, a man that understands the language, and does not drink whisky. my people think that the flour that is sent here for them is sent for them to eat, and they are not pleased that it is fed to the pigs about the agency; and they wish me to mention that we take a hide to the store, quite a large one, and receive an order for three dollars' worth of goods. for this large beef-hide we get one piece of leather the width of three fingers, for a belt; it is not worth more than fifty cents. that does not please us. last summer when i went to the council for the black hills, i had a pipe with me. i told them, in reference to the black hills, that we were bound by giving and receiving the pipe, the same as white people when they make an oath in court and swear upon the bible, and if the party took the pipe that was offered to him in council and held it in his hand everything went well, and if he did not speak the truth always some evil would spring up in connection with it. last summer the pipe was given in council, and what do you think of the matter now? have the promises been kept, or has the violation of them caused war and bloodshed? i have for a long time known the ways of your people in dealing with us and taking away our country, and i know that they have been such as to make us miserable. you have driven away our game and our means of livelihood out of the country, until now we have nothing left that is valuable except the hills that you ask us to give up. when we give these up to the great father we know that we give up the last thing that is valuable either to us or the white people; and therefore my people wish me to say that, as long as two indians are living, we expect them to have the benefit of the price paid for these lands. my friend, [to the chairman,] i am going to give you a pipe. perhaps we are deceiving each other in this matter, perhaps we are not going to be truthful, and shall commit a great sin, but i for my part am trying to speak the truth. running bear:--i look upon you as you sit before me, and i see that there are no boys among you; that you are all men of age, and i am glad to see it. i am very old, very near the time when i shall lie down in the earth. therefore if you have really come to help us we are very happy. i will speak now about myself. i am an orphan. before my father died he told me that my country was very valuable. you say you are going to give me rations by weight; i do not know anything about that; i think it will take me at least twelve years to understand it. it is only yesterday that the people of my generation were laid in the ground, and i am the only one left. my father, who is now dead, went to the great father's house and talked with him there. the people have now given you the black hills, and we for our part would like to go to our great father's house and hear how much money he proposes to give us in return. again, the whisky that the white people have and carry about with them is very bad. we hear that our people who are living up to the north of us drink a great deal of whisky. we do not like it at all. my friends, i am going to ask you for something that i want. i do not think it possible that you have come out here to ask me for something without paying me for it. i do not consider myself very rich. you white people come out here with a great many pockets in your clothes. probably the person who sent you told you what to do with the things in your pockets. i would like to have you take up a collection. each of you put your hands in your pockets and take out ten cents and give it to me to buy something at the store. you are not particularly modest in asking for the things you want, and i see no reason why i should not ask for the things that i want. do you think i do right in asking you? you are a chief, [to the chairman.] i, also, am a chief. i have lived here now years. i do not remember even a bad word that i have said; perhaps the great father does. in every country there are men who are skillful in talking in council. i am such a man myself. i also have been instructed. this medal that you see, was put about my neck by a catholic priest, and yet, notwithstanding i am so honored, you talk to me about issuing rations by weight. i am astonished at you. you are advanced in years; i am also advanced in years. white bear:--i wonder if you know that i planted a field out here. i raised pumpkins as large as this chair and corn taller than i am, and after i had done that my father took my field away to plant oats in. i wonder if you know that. tell the great father that there is only one store here, and all the young men are shedding tears about it. if they had mowing-machines, such as they could ride upon, to ride around their country and cut hay, they would be able to earn something; but the agent considers that the country belongs to him personally, and cuts all the hay. my friends, i would like to have our agent, before the sun goes down, climb up into the second story of the warehouse and take down all the teepee cloths and blankets that he has there, and divide them among the people. dog back:--i am not anybody in particular. although i am not very strong and a man of no special importance, i took a claim, and planted, and considered that i was watching my own hay and grass. i am the man that has been trying to live in the way that i have been told, but this summer a great many white men have come there and cut my wood, and killed the fowls and animals i have raised, and disturbed me in many ways. i do not wish to make any disturbance about it, but i have been trying to do as the great father advised us, and it seems to me that these people who come and do such things to me are lawless people. i have nobody to help me, but you come here to-day from the great father, and i have told you these things in the hope that you will help me. _santee agency._ hakewaste:--i am an indian and was born naked. i now wear the same kind of clothes as the white man. old wabashaw told me that the president wanted us to work, and for that reason i have dressed in this way, but what you have been explaining to me i know nothing about. i have only been six years a chief in this land. you can see how we are situated here; that we have done part of what the president told us to do; you see little patches of corn, &c. as old man wabashaw is buried here we would all like to live here. we will all do what you ask of us in the treaty. we own nothing, and have nothing to depend upon. when the president makes up his mind to do a thing he generally does it, but we do not want to go to that territory to the south. wamamsa:--the lord above rules everything, and he has given us a nice mild day for our council. we have prayed for land and churches, and as we now have three churches i think the lord has taken good care of us and has answered our prayers. look at these young men. you have not seen any indians during your travels dressed in that way. we are not getting along very well--not as well as we should. twice now we have had quakers for agents, and we are going down hill all the time; getting into the ground. husasa:--i have been blind for four years, but i can hear what is said. when any one comes from washington to see us we ought to be thankful to him. when we lived at redwood we made the treaty, and it was mentioned that we were to draw annuities and money for fifty years, and for that reason we put ourselves in the wrong place and suffer for it to-day. there are only three chiefs left now, and all we have to do is to throw ourselves into the arms of the great father. we are all pretty badly off. when people used to come here from washington, wabashaw was here to speak, but now he is lying in the ground and we are all the time looking that way at him. a great many of us have no wagons or oxen or anything to work with. i have nothing but an old wagon that is not fit for use, and am as poor as if i had not sold any land to the president. the indians' minds are not very long and we forget a thing in a very short time. you have told us what to do. we have got it all in our ears and ought to be proud of it. the president said that he would take good care of us, and now here i am blind and have not got a wagon fit to use. although i am blind, if i had a wagon the women or some of the boys could bring me water when i am thirsty. * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious typographical errors and printer errors have been corrected without comment. on page , the word "py" was changed to "by" in the phrase: "py ----, who did shoot...." with the exception of obvious errors, inconsistencies in the author's spelling, punctuation, use of hyphens, and use of quotation marks have been retained as in the original publication. inconsistencies include, but are not limited to the following: gayety/ gaiety ogallala/ ogallalla camanche/ commanches in the original publication, italics are used inconsistently in the illustration captions. they are reproduced here as they appear in the original. unconventional spelling has been retained in words such as (but not limited to) the following: befel enlightment milwaukie carniverous conveniencies conformably kidnaped/ kidnaping reconnoisance with sully into the sioux land by the same author the conquest of the missouri. profusely illustrated. large vo _net_, $ . . frontier ballads. cover, end-paper design, and illustrations by maynard dixon. novelty binding. $ . _net_ a. c. mcclurg & co., publishers chicago [illustration: catching up a heavy stick he hurled it at the head of one of the warriors [chapter iii] ] "among the sioux" series with sully into the sioux land by joseph mills hanson author of "the conquest of the missouri," "frontier ballads," etc. illustrated by john w. norton [illustration: logo] chicago a. c. mcclurg & co. copyright a. c. mcclurg & co. published, november , entered at stationers' hall, london, england press of the vail company coshocton, u. s. a. to my father joseph randall hanson, who, as a boy and young man on the old dakota frontier, lived through more adventures than a volume could describe contents chapter page i the scourge of the border ii the flight through the darkness iii besieged in fort ridgely iv refugees v hope deferred vi on general sully's staff vii up the missouri viii prairie marching ix the revenge of the coyotes x the fort on the river xi trailing the hostiles xii the battle of tahkahokuty xiii beset in the bad lands xiv te-o-kun-ko xv in the wake of the grasshoppers xvi adrift in a barge xvii captured by guerillas xviii the defence of glasgow xix reunited illustrations page catching up a heavy stick he hurled it at the head of one of the warriors _frontispiece_ she charged at him as he fired the indian raised his rifle to shoot corporal wright he was just pulling himself up bill cotton protects al from the guerilla with sully into the sioux land chapter i the scourge of the border "papa is coming, mama! papa is coming!" tommy briscoe, brimming over with excitement, ran, shouting, across the yard and darted into the kitchen, leaving a half emptied pail of milk standing on the ground before the stable, where a small red calf he had been feeding promptly upset it. in a moment he reappeared in the doorway, his mother and little sister annie behind him. mrs. briscoe, a woman still evidently under middle age but whose sweet, serious face showed plainly the lines which the patient endurance of hardships draw upon the faces of most frontier women, looked down the faintly marked road running away to the southward, surprise and perplexity in her eyes. along the road and still some distance away, a horseman was galloping toward them furiously. the road led only to the briscoe cabin, which was distant a number of miles from its nearest neighbors. the rider could hardly be any other than mr. briscoe; moreover, even at that distance his wife could recognize the color and the short, jerking gallop of the horse he was riding. "it is certainly chick," she said, half to herself and half to the children. "but what can bring tom home so soon? he did not expect to be back before four or five o'clock and now it is hardly past noon. he must have left fort ridgely almost as soon as he reached there. i hope nothing is wrong." "i hope he got the calico for my dolly's dress," exclaimed annie, dancing up and down in anticipation of the gift her father had promised to bring her when he rode away in the morning. "and i hope he got my coyote trap," added tommy. "the coyotes will carry off all our chickens, first thing we know." he raised the short bow he was carrying and sent a little iron-tipped arrow whizzing accurately into a tree-trunk fifty feet away. he had been going out to the meadow in a few minutes, and he never went anywhere without his bow and arrows, for he was sufficiently expert with them to bring down now and then a squirrel or a quail and sometimes even a prairie chicken. the two children, unconscious of any cause for uneasiness in their father's early return, followed mrs. briscoe as she stepped from the door and walked a few paces down the road to meet the approaching rider, who came on without slacking pace until he drew up beside them. his horse, a small animal, was dripping with sweat and trembling with exertion, for it was a hot august day and his rider was a large man. mr. briscoe, for he it was, stepped down from the saddle rather stiffly. his face was very grave as he kissed his wife and children. "did you get my coyote trap, papa?" cried the little boy, almost before his father's foot had touched the ground. "did you bring my calico, papa?" chimed in annie. "no, my dears, i hadn't time. you had better run away a minute." he glanced at his wife significantly. "oh, i'm sorry!" exclaimed tommy. "but let me unsaddle chick." he caught the stirrup leather and swung himself nimbly into the saddle. "go and finish feeding the calf, annie," said mrs. briscoe. the little girl, with disappointed face, walked obediently toward the stable, into which tommy had already ridden. "what has happened, thomas?" exclaimed mrs. briscoe, her voice quivering with anxiety, as soon as the children were beyond hearing. her husband laid his strong hand reassuringly on her arm. "don't be frightened, mary," he said, "we shall doubtless get out of it all right, but we must hurry. the indians broke out at the lower agency this morning; you know they have been becoming more and more restless for a good while past. when i reached fort ridgely, about eleven, captain marsh had already started for the agency with about fifty men. he may have the disturbance crushed by this time. i saw lieutenant geer, who is left in command with forty men. lieutenant sheehan marched for fort ripley yesterday with fifty men. geer would have sent an escort with me while i came for you but of course he could not spare a man from the handful he has. i think it would not be really dangerous to stay here, but to be on the safe side and not expose you and the children to any risk we had perhaps better pack what we can on the wagon and go to the fort for a few days till the trouble blows over. where is al?" mr. briscoe was slapping the dust from his coat and hat as he talked. he tried to speak in as reassuring terms and as confident a tone as possible, but his wife intuitively knew that he was not telling her all that was in his mind. "al just went up to the meadow to turn the wind-rows," she said. "tommy was going to help him as soon as he finished feeding the calf. shall he go for al?" "yes." mrs. briscoe called to the boy, who dashed away toward the meadow, which lay only a short distance north, beyond a thicket of bushes and small trees. then she turned to her husband, who was walking into the stable. "you have had no dinner, tom," she said. "no, but i want none." "were any white people killed at the agency?" she asked, as mr. briscoe came out with a halter and started toward the pasture lot where their other horse was grazing. he seemed to want to avoid questions, but he answered: "they say there were." "many?" her husband paused. he was not accustomed to conceal things from his wife. "why," he replied, hesitatingly, "it is reported that all of them were killed; but that is probably exaggerated, and very likely it will prove there were none." mrs. briscoe's face paled a little but she retained her composure. she asked no more questions, for now she knew all that was necessary for the present of the gravity of the situation. moreover, she had supreme confidence in her husband's judgment. he started again toward the pasture, saying, as he glanced toward the lumber wagon standing near the kitchen door: "you had better begin putting things in the wagon, mary. you know what to take; only the most necessary and valuable things, for we shall doubtless be back in a few days." indeed, mrs. briscoe knew well by hard experience what to take. once before during the brief year they had spent in the wild valley of the minnesota river, they had fled to fort ridgely, about twenty miles south of their claim, at the alarm of an indian uprising, which, however, in that instance had fortunately proved false. that was in the spring of ; it was now august of the same year. when they moved into the country during the previous august, bringing the few possessions which remained to them from the wreck of their fortunes in missouri, their nearest neighbor lived fourteen miles away. now there were three pioneer families within a radius of ten miles of them, and, in comparison with the earlier isolation of their new home, they felt that the country was becoming quite densely peopled. but away to the southwest and west of them, not more than twenty-five miles distant, swarmed a host of neighbors whose presence there always oppressed their imaginations like the sight of a low, black bank of thunder clouds when they looked toward that quarter of the horizon. for southwest, at red wood falls, was the lower agency, the assembling place of the m'dewakanton and the wakpekute indians, and west was the upper agency, on the yellow medicine river, where lived or congregated several thousand sissetons and wahpetons. still further west and extending away to big stone lake, nearly one hundred miles distant, were some other agencies and missions, where greater or less bodies of indians of the above tribes made their headquarters. the sissetons and wahpetons on the yellow medicine were not greatly to be feared. many of them had become christians under the wise and kindly training of such heroic missionaries as thomas l. riggs and thomas s. williamson, who with their families had for years lived and maintained schools among them. assisted by the united states government, many of these indians had come into the possession of good homes and farms and were rapidly becoming prosperous and accustomed to the ways of civilization. but the m'dewakantons and wakpekutes at the lower agency were of a different character. few of them had ever shown a disposition to settle down to industry, and generally they spent their time out on the limitless western prairies of the then newly erected territory of dakota, living the wild, free life of their ancestors and coming to the agency only when one of the annual payments was due them for the lands in minnesota which they had sold to the government several years before. at such times they were usually accompanied to the agency by many turbulent spirits from the sioux tribes living further west, who came to share in the government's bounty and the feasting and celebrating which commonly followed its distribution. in the month of august, , the distribution of the government payment, for various reasons, had been long delayed, and the wild indians, waiting in idleness for it to come instead of being, as they should have been, out on the prairies hunting buffalo, became constantly more restless, suspicious and arrogant as time went on. the idea gained strength among them that the government intended to cheat them of the payment. moreover, they had heard many rumors of the great civil war in which the united states was engaged, and many white people among them did not hesitate to make them believe that the nation was about to be overthrown, which, indeed, did not seem improbable in in view of the many reverses which the union armies were suffering. such reports, coupled with the fact that most of the united states troops along the minnesota frontier had been sent to the south and that those remaining were few and scattered, caused the leaders of the hostile element among the minnesota indians to believe that the time had come when the whites might be driven back beyond the mississippi, leaving the indians again in possession of all their old territories west of that stream. at the time the briscoe family had come into the country this feeling did not yet exist among the indians, but during the spring and summer of many exciting incidents had occurred at the agencies and elsewhere, in which the growing arrogance and self-confidence of the hostiles had been made plain. of these incidents mr. briscoe had been made aware through his occasional trips to fort ridgely after supplies, and, having had some previous experience of the ways of indians in the southwest, he had been disquieted and apprehensive for the future. but he had kept his misgivings to himself as far as possible, not caring to alarm his family needlessly. he knew that, early in august, little crow, the hereditary chief of the m'dewakantons, had been deposed from the chieftainship by his fellow tribesmen because of his attitude on an unpopular treaty made sometime before, and that the crafty old chief was eager to find some means of recovering his lost honors. he knew that inkpaduta, the most cruel and bloodthirsty leader of all the sioux nation, together with a throng of his outlawed followers who had participated with him in the atrocious massacre of the white settlers at spirit lake, iowa, in , was hovering about the lower agency and mingling with the four or five thousand dissatisfied indians who were gathered there, waiting with increasing impatience for the arrival of the annuity, and in a mood to listen eagerly to any suggestions of massacre and pillage which might be poured into their ears by inkpaduta and his villainous companions. but what he did not know until he rode into fort ridgely on that terrible morning of august , , was that on the previous day a wandering party of young m'dewakanton braves had murdered three white men and two white women near the hamlet of acton, forty miles north of fort ridgely and about twenty from his own claim; that the young assassins had then ridden post-haste to the lower agency and with their news of bloodshed, which was like a match in a powder magazine, had set the whole savage horde assembled there into a frenzy for the blood of the whites; that little crow, seeing in a flash the opportunity for regaining the chief control of his tribe and, indeed, of the whole sioux nation, by leading them in a triumphant war, had given the word to the indians--who had instinctively turned to him in the crisis--for a general uprising and massacre of all the whites; and that, in accordance with his orders and the mad impulse of the crowd, they had swarmed over the agency, slaughtering every white person whom they could find,--store-keepers, government employees, men, women, and children. all these things mr. briscoe knew, though in a confused and imperfect way, when he met his wife after his swift homeward journey from fort ridgely. but, being a brave man and one who had served his country with honor and courage during the mexican war, he faced the situation with coolness and at the same time began preparing swiftly for the instant flight of his family to the fort. he realized that this was imperative if they were to escape destruction. when her husband, as previously mentioned, started for the pasture, mrs. briscoe reëntered the house, a log building of three rooms, quite capacious for the region and the time, and pulling a trunk from the corner of each of the bedrooms, began hastily filling them with the family clothing and a few books, standard works, much worn but of good editions and carefully kept. from a locked cupboard drawer in the kitchen she brought a small box containing a few pieces of handsome silver ware, some of recent pattern but most of it old, into which she looked carefully before depositing it in one of the trunks. two small oil paintings in frames she packed carefully, and when these had been disposed of in the trunks little remained in the slenderly furnished house except its rude furniture, largely homemade, the bedding and the pots and pans and crockery dishes in the kitchen. she had just begun taking these down and arranging them in a large box when a boy of about fifteen years, straight and tall for his age, with light complexion, light hair, and keen gray eyes, bounded into the kitchen from outside, closely followed by tommy, who was merely a smaller, eight-year-old edition of himself. the elder lad stopped short, regarding mrs. briscoe's preparations for departure with startled eyes. "what's the matter, mother?" he exclaimed. "what are you going to do?" "your father has just come back from the fort, al. haven't you seen him?" "no, mother." "he has gone to the pasture for monty. we must drive to the fort at once, this afternoon. the indians have broken out at the lower agency and the report at fort ridgely is that they have killed many white people." "whew-w!" whistled al. "that's bad, isn't it? what will become of the hay?" "let's stay here and fight 'em!" cried tommy, his head thrown back and his eyes flashing. "why should we run away from a lot of bad indians? they won't dare hurt us with papa here." "hush, tommy," said his mother, yet not without a glance of pride at the fearless little fellow, so like his father. "there are a great many of them and we are far away from help." "i don't care," persisted tommy. "we could block up the doors and windows, and they can't shoot through these thick logs." "no, tommy," interrupted his brother, patting the small boy's shoulder, "but they could burn the house, and then where should we be?" "run for the woods." "and be shot there, out of hand. no, no! mother, are the trunks ready to put in the wagon?" "yes, but wait for your father to help you with them. you and tommy can take out the mattresses and pillows. the fort will probably be full of refugees, and we shall need our bedding." at this moment mr. briscoe entered. "hello, al, boy," he said, in his usual tone, as if nothing unusual had happened. "hello, father," returned al, while tommy ran to mr. briscoe for another kiss. "you got back early." "yes," answered his father, simply. he glanced at his son, and the two pairs of steady gray eyes looked understandingly into each other for a second. then mr. briscoe walked to a shelf and took down an army musket which hung, together with a double-barrelled shotgun, on a rack beneath it. the musket was loaded, but he took off the old percussion cap and replaced it with a new one. he loaded the shotgun from a powder horn and shot flask on the shelf and then carefully examined a large, six-shot, -calibre starr revolver, also already loaded, of a model at that time recent, in which each chamber was loaded from the front with powder and ball and fired by a percussion cap. by this time his wife, aided by annie, had the kitchen utensils in the box. having put the weapons in condition for instant use, mr. briscoe said: "now, al, we can load these heavy things in the wagon. we want to take the saddle and the new plough, too; we can't afford to have them destroyed while we're gone. tommy, turn spot out in the pasture with the calf. she can get water from the creek, and there is plenty of grass for her. it is a good thing that calf isn't entirely weaned yet. we will leave the barn door open for the chickens to go in at night. monty and chick are feeding now. as soon as they have finished we must be ready to hitch up." when they had placed the first trunk in the wagon and were alone, mr. briscoe turned to his son. "al," he said, speaking rapidly and in a low voice, "be careful not to alarm your mother and the children, but you must know that we are in the greatest danger and that our only chance of safety lies in getting to the fort without the least delay. the indians at the lower agency have gone mad. they have killed every white they could lay their hands on and have started to sweep the whole country clean. some of them may come here at any moment. my boy--" he laid his hand on al's shoulder and his voice became very earnest. he spoke almost as if he felt a premonition of coming events. "my boy, i know i can trust you; you are almost a man in judgment and understanding. if we should encounter indians before we reach the fort and anything should happen to me, remember that your first care must be your mother and your little brother and sister. protect them with your life but keep cool and do not throw it away. and afterward,--well, my boy, just do your duty by our dear ones and yourself as you honestly see it; no one can do more. and remember always that you are the son of a soldier." al's face paled a little beneath the tan while his father was speaking but he returned the latter's gaze steadily until he had finished. then he replied: "why, father, nothing is going to happen to you. but of course i shall remember what you say and always try to do the best i can by mother and the children." "i know you will, al. now, let us load that trunk and box and the rest of the things." they continued their work rapidly while mrs. briscoe was busy putting up some food to take along and placing the rest in the root cellar back of the house where it might keep from spoiling as long as possible during their absence. the day was hot and sultry, but the sky was beautifully blue, with here and there white, fleecy clouds floating lazily across it. green, gently rolling prairies stretched away on every hand, broken here and there by patches of dark, cool woodland where the trees stood clustered on a slope or marked the winding course of some ravine or sluggish creek. from the briscoe cabin could be caught glimpses between the trees north of it of the hay-cocks on the sun-flooded meadow, where al and tommy had been working. it was a tract of native prairie grass and a small one, for mr. briscoe had mowed it with a scythe. no sound broke the stillness of the early afternoon except the rustle of the breeze through the treetops and the piping of a chickadee which had perched on a sunflower stalk beside the stable. it seemed impossible that in the midst of such peaceful surroundings the horrors of savage massacre and warfare could be abroad in the land; and so al thought as he looked about him, just as his father and he finished loading the last of the household goods which they intended to take with them. they were starting to the barn after the horses when they heard the breaking of branches and a commotion among the bushes in the strip of woodland toward the meadow. mr. briscoe and his son turned in sudden apprehension and saw six indians, one after another, issue from the woods and ride toward them. they were mounted on ponies and were naked except for breech-clouts, while their heads were decked with feathers and streaming war-bonnets, and their faces and bodies hideously bedaubed with paint. mr. briscoe turned and walked deliberately toward the house. "don't run," he cautioned al, in a low tone. "but go in and stick the revolver in your pocket under your coat, and set the guns just inside the kitchen door. tell your mother if she hears a shot to run with the children from the bedroom door and hide in the rushes along the creek. i'll meet the indians here." he stopped by the kitchen door. then suddenly he asked, "where's tommy?" "in the house, i think," answered al. but tommy was not in the house. he had bethought himself of the eggs and was in the barn hunting them, unconscious of the approaching visitors. al disappeared in the kitchen, and mr. briscoe walked toward the ominous group of callers, who came on in silence until they reached the door, each holding with one hand a rifle or musket laid across the neck of his pony. they looked at the loaded wagon, which betrayed the impending flight of the family. "how," said mr. briscoe, smiling and extending his hand. no responsive smiles lit the faces of the indians. they regarded him in gloomy silence while their leader, a fellow of lighter hue than the rest, evidently a half-breed, sprang to the ground and, ignoring mr. briscoe's extended hand, said, gruffly, in broken english, "we want food." "you shall have it," replied mr. briscoe. "wait a minute." he stepped toward the door but the half-breed was before him. "we take what we want," he said, jerking his head toward his followers. "come on." mr. briscoe saw that conciliation was impossible. once within the house they would have the family at their mercy. he stepped inside the door and with one push of his powerful arm thrust the half-breed out on the step. "stay out, and i'll feed you. but not if you come in," he said. al, looking through from the next room, saw his father's action and instantly understood that it meant trouble. with the sudden authority of a man in the emergency, he exclaimed to his mother, pushing her toward the south door, "run to the creek, you and annie! keep out of sight; hide in the reeds. we'll take care of tommy." then he ran back through the house toward his father. he reached him in less time than it takes to tell it; but the half-breed, cursing frightfully as he reeled back from mr. briscoe's thrust, had already shouted to his companions, "shoot him!" one of the mounted indians threw his musket to his shoulder but mr. briscoe, seizing the shotgun which al had set beside the door, was quicker than the savage. his shot rang out and the indian pitched headlong to the ground. before he could cock the other hammer or even spring aside from the doorway, the half-breed's rifle cracked. "my god! mary!" gasped mr. briscoe, clutching his hand to his breast. he wheeled, staggered a step or two into the room and then sunk to the floor at al's feet, dead. it had all happened so quickly that the poor boy's brain was reeling with the horror of it. but in an instant he saw the half-breed's form silhouetted in the doorway, an evil grin overspreading his face. mechanically al raised the revolver in his hand and fired. without a word, his father's murderer tumbled backward through the doorway and rolled out on the ground. al stepped to the door. in one swift glance he saw three of the four remaining indians galloping furiously away toward the meadow; he saw tommy, half way between the barn and house, running toward the latter, and he saw the fourth indian, leaning far over from his pony's side, swooping down upon the boy. the warrior looked back toward the house and in that instant's glimpse al noted that he was a huge fellow, over six feet tall and that along his left cheek, down his neck and clear out on his naked shoulder, extended a long, livid scar as of an old and terrible wound by a sabre or knife. again al fired. but the indian was some distance away and the bullet apparently missed him altogether. before al could get another aim the savage had caught tommy, screaming and struggling, from the ground and, swinging him up on the pony's back, had ridden swiftly after his companions. for a moment al was beside himself with grief and rage. his brother was being carried away under his very eyes, probably to torture and death, and he could do nothing. he ran out madly after the fleeing indians, shouting senseless threats and waving his arms. but he dared not fire, for the last rider held tommy, struggling fiercely in his iron grip, as a shield between himself and pursuing bullets. in a few seconds all the indians had disappeared in the strip of woods and then al remembered his mother and sister. he abandoned his futile pursuit and ran to the house, not even glancing at the dead indian in the yard nor the one before the door. rushing into the kitchen, he threw himself in a paroxysm of grief beside his father's body, crying out to him and vainly striving to discover a sign of life in the quiet face, already grown so peaceful under the soothing touch of death. at length, with dry, silent sobs shaking his body, he rose slowly to his feet, closed and locked the door, composed his father's limbs and spread a cloth over his face. then he picked up the musket, got the powder horn and box of bullets from the shelf, and, with one last glance at the still form on the floor, ran swiftly through the house and out, striking directly down the slope toward the marshy ground along the creek. chapter ii the flight through the darkness al had almost reached the nearest reeds when he heard a shot off to his left and looking in that direction saw spot, the cow, sink to her knees and then topple over on her side. an indian with rifle held aloof, exulting over this piece of slaughter, was galloping toward her. al crouched low and ran into the reeds. "mother! mother!" he called, softly, for the indian was too far away to hear. "here," answered his mother's voice, not far off, and in a moment he had crept to her. annie, crying softly, was beside her, and they were lying well hidden in a dense thicket of reeds close to the creek. "where is your father?" whispered mrs. briscoe, the instant he reached her, gazing at him with wide, terror-stricken eyes. "why, he--he--can't come now," al faltered. "he is killed," said mrs. briscoe, simply, in a lifeless voice. her son did not look at her. "yes," he said, almost inaudibly. it seemed to him that the end of all things was closing down upon them. his mother did not weep; she was past tears. she did not even move, but her face was almost like chalk. "and tommy?" she asked presently. "the indians have carried him away," answered al. mrs. briscoe bowed her head upon her knees. "oh, my little boy, my baby boy!" she moaned. "why should i live any longer with them gone?" al, stunned by the tragedies of the past few minutes, had nearly reached the lowest depths of despair. he felt numb and helpless, but at his mother's heartbroken cry a sudden rush of vitality and determination reanimated him. he recalled his father's words: "remember that your first care must be your mother and your little brother and sister." he leaned forward and put his arm around his mother's shoulders. "mother," he said, "don't say that. you must live for annie's sake and mine,--and tommy's. we shall get him back; they will not hurt him, he is so young and bright. when we reach the fort the soldiers will send out after him." by a mighty effort mrs. briscoe controlled herself. her son's words had aroused her. "you are right, al," she said. "i must live for you and annie and tommy. but can we start for the fort now?" "i am afraid we shall have to stay here till dark," he replied. "the indians are still around. i will crawl up where i can get a look." leaving the musket beside his mother he crept up through the reeds until, by raising his head cautiously, he could see the house, about three hundred feet away at the top of the slope. an indian was coming out of the barn leading chick and monty, both animals rearing and plunging wildly, for a horse brought up in civilization fears an indian as much as he does a wolf. al also saw columns of smoke beginning to arise from the roofs of the house and barn and realized with a terrible pang that his father's body was about to be incinerated in the ruins of his home. he felt a mad desire to rush from his concealment upon the savages and to fight them single-handed. but he restrained himself, for he realized that he would have no chance even against the four who were certainly there and who, for all he knew, might now have been joined by others. he lay there watching until the house and barn were wrapped in flames. then two of the indians rode out in opposite directions and making wide detours, circled around toward the swampy tract. then he crept hastily back to his mother and gave her the revolver, the two empty chambers of which he had already re-loaded, himself taking the musket. "they are going to search for us, mother," he whispered. "we must keep perfectly still. if they should find us and i should be hit, shoot annie and then yourself. never let them take you alive. but if there are only four of them we still have a good chance." no more was said, and for a long time they lay quiet, their ears sharpened to unnatural keenness, listening to the snapping of reeds in the marsh to the east and west of them but never very close. the conviction at last came upon al that their hunters, few in number, were afraid rather than anxious to find them, and he began to breathe easier. after more than an hour had elapsed he heard horses splashing in the creek above their hiding-place, and presently he crept again to the edge of the reeds. the house and barn were smouldering heaps of ashes, and the wagon was gone. no one was around the ruins but presently he saw, far off on a rise of the prairie to the eastward several horsemen, mere specks in the distance. he conjectured that it was the party which had wrought their ruin, bound for the millers, their nearest neighbors, seven miles away. he wished ardently that he might warn the millers but it was out of the question, so he went back to his mother and sister, and through the remaining hours of the afternoon and until darkness fell they lay in their concealment. then very cautiously, under cover of the darkness, he piloted them across the creek, over several hills and low places, and so at last, two or three miles south of the claim, into the faintly marked road leading away to fort ridgely. it is needless to enter into the details of that long and nerve-wracking journey. not a moment of it was free from the dreadful fear of encountering enemies in the darkness, and, exhausted by excitement and grief, they dragged their way through the night, stopping every few yards to listen or peer into the gloom. annie, utterly worn out, sometimes fell to the ground asleep, and then al and mrs. briscoe had to take turns carrying her. here and there at wide intervals around the vast circle of the horizon appeared a far distant, dull, yellow glow which they knew only too well must arise from other wrecked and burning homes like their own. now and then the exhaustion of mrs. briscoe and annie compelled them to sink down for a few moments' rest and it was almost daybreak when they finally reached a point which al knew must be close to the cabin of the olsens, about eight miles from fort ridgely, though they could see nothing of the house in the darkness. evidently, therefore, it had not been burned, else they could have discerned the smouldering embers. al saw the first faint streaks of dawn in the east and, realizing that they dared go no further by daylight, he led the way to a small clump of timber which he remembered, lying about a quarter of a mile east of the olsens' buildings. he found a safe hiding-place for his mother and sister in a dense thicket of bushes under the trees, within a few feet of which he could himself lie and have a clear view of the olsen house and its immediate vicinity. here they remained until probably ten o'clock in the morning, al all the time keeping a close watch on the house. not a person nor an animal was about the place save a few chickens which he could see scratching in the yard, and he concluded that the olsens must have been warned, perhaps by mr. briscoe himself on his homeward ride, and had escaped to the fort the day before. the briscoes had not tasted food since the previous noon, and though neither his mother nor annie would confess to being hungry, al knew that they all needed nourishment in order to be able to continue their journey after nightfall. he determined to creep up to the deserted house in the hope of finding some food there, if nothing more than a few eggs in the log stable. handing the revolver to his mother and dragging the musket along beside him, he made his way with painful slowness across the strip of open prairie between the woods and the house. on his way he saw nothing to alarm him, though he noted that just west of the house was a rise in the prairie, evidently concealing a depression beyond, into which he could not see. but no tree tops were visible over the rise, and he did not believe that any indians would attempt to hide in an open valley. he made a hurried search through the house, which consisted of a single room, and was rewarded by finding a scant half-loaf of very stale bread. nothing else could he find, for the family had evidently taken all their possessions, including food, in their flight. he was just about to start to the stable in a search for eggs when his heart suddenly seemed to stop beating at the sound of galloping hoofs just back of the house. to his startled ears it sounded like a hundred horses. his only thought was to get back to his mother and sister and, seizing the musket, he dashed out of the doorway and leaped away toward the trees, casting only one glance behind. it showed him a group of eight or ten mounted indians just riding up on the other side of the house. his apprehension was such that he did not notice that they were dressed in civilized garments until he heard a voice shout in english and in a reassuring tone; "wait, boy, wait! we no hurt you!" he ventured another glance behind and saw all the party save one standing still, their rifles held aloft in sign of peace. the remaining one was still riding toward him but his rifle was also held up. al realized that they could easily have shot him in his tracks had they wished, and their failure to do so encouraged him. he halted while the lone indian rode up to him, dismounted and extended his hand, which al hesitatingly took. but the grasp was hearty and firm. "we no hurt you," repeated the indian. "we christian indian from yellow medicine. we hunting for whites to save from the bad m'dewakantons that make the much kill. we take you to fort ridgely. more white people there?" he pointed to the timber toward which al had been running. the boy hesitated a moment. the indian's appearance and words, and still more his manner, inspired his confidence, and he found a brighter hope springing up within him than he had felt since his father's death. but should he trust his mother and annie to these indians when they had just suffered so terribly at the hands of others of the same race? perhaps they were deceiving him in order to draw the rest of his party into their power and would then kill or torture them all. but, on the other hand, if the indians were hostile he was already at their mercy, so his protection was lost to his mother and sister. could they make their way to the fort alone if he should deny their presence now and go with the indians himself, either to safety or death? he did not believe they could. but something kept telling him he must trust the indian who stood before him, so friendly and earnest. he was every inch an indian but his face lacked the expression of savage ferocity borne on the faces of the war party which had attacked them the day before. it seemed softened by better influences, and al could hardly believe that he was treacherous. he took his difficult resolution. "yes," he answered. "there are more over there." the indian smiled. "good," said he. "we take you all to the fort. you go get them." then he added a little proudly, "we save since yesterday, one, two, six white family." al went into the woods and informed his mother that rescuers had come to them and, without mentioning their character, led her and annie out. mrs. briscoe was much alarmed when she first saw the party of indians assembled to meet them, but the latter greeted her so kindly and sympathetically that she soon felt easier. three of the red men dismounted in order that she and annie and al might ride; and so, with the indians leading their ponies, the cavalcade started southward at once in the direction of the fort. al found that his confidence had not been misplaced, for in less than two hours they rode into the fort, safe but very weary and depressed. fort ridgely was nothing more than a collection of buildings,--quarters for troops, storehouses, stables, and the other structures necessary for a permanent military establishment, standing on an exposed hill surrounded by ravines and having no stockade or other defences whatever around it; for it was designed merely as a cantonment and supply depot and not as a defensive fortification. when the briscoes entered it on that afternoon of august , it presented a scene of confusion and distress hard to imagine. it was thronged with refugees,--men, women, and children, from all the surrounding country, many of them destitute of everything save the clothes they wore. some were wounded or badly burned in escaping from houses set on fire by their assailants; and others were arriving now and then who had escaped almost miraculously from the devastated section about the lower agency or from more distant points in other directions. these people were being fed from the stores in the government warehouse; and the post barracks were not large enough to accommodate them, for, fortunately, more troops had arrived since the day before. mrs. briscoe soon found a friend in the warm-hearted mrs. olsen, who, as al had conjectured, had come in on the previous day with her husband and children after having received warning of the uprising from mr. briscoe. mrs. olsen burst into tears on learning of the sad fate of the man to whom they very likely owed their own lives, and of the carrying off of poor little tommy. she instantly brought them food, and after they had refreshed themselves, she insisted on mrs. briscoe and annie taking her bed in their covered wagon and resting, at least until more commodious quarters could be found for them. having seen his mother and sister thus as comfortably cared for as present circumstances would permit, al started out to look for another place for them which would not so greatly inconvenience the olsens, and to learn what could be done about sending pursuers after the indians who had carried away tommy. making his way among the groups of people, many of them disconsolate and weeping, and among the wagons, the animals, and the heaps of household goods scattered in confusion over the open parade ground in the centre of the fort, al suddenly felt a hand slap his shoulder while a familiar voice said, "hello, al briscoe! when did you get here?" he looked around and saw wallace smith, a young fellow of about his own age, whom he had met at the fort several times during the past year when he had come in after supplies. wallace's father kept a general merchandise store just outside the fort, at which the briscoes had done most of their trading, and it was toward this store that al was walking when he encountered wallace. "i just came in with my mother and sister," returned al, shaking hands, and then he related briefly the events of the last twenty-four hours. wallace was very sympathetic and at once took al to the store. here mr. smith told him that he would find a place for mrs. briscoe and annie to sleep that night, in one of the rooms occupied by his own family above the store. as for al, he could sleep in the store itself, in company with a number of men who were to be accommodated there. but when al mentioned his hope of having an immediate pursuit made after tommy's captors, mr. smith shook his head. "i'm afraid you will find it can't be done now, my boy," he said. "there are too few men here. but you can see the commanding officer and ask him." the boys, accordingly, left the store and walked toward the headquarters building. "can't the indians capture this place pretty easily" asked al, looking about. "i don't see what there is to keep them back." wallace looked serious. "well, i don't know," he answered. "the officers seem to think we can stand them off if they come, and i'm afraid they surely will. most of the men are busy now putting the buildings in shape for defence. there are about a hundred soldiers of the fifth minnesota infantry here, for lieutenant sheehan was recalled by a messenger sent yesterday, and he got back with his men a little while ago. he is in command now. have you heard about captain marsh?" al had not. "why, he marched for the lower agency yesterday morning with forty-five men, as soon as he heard of the outbreak there. they were ambushed by the indians at the ferry across the minnesota and, though they seem to have fought splendidly, all the men were killed except fifteen, who finally got back here. captain marsh himself was drowned in trying to swim the river. so, you see, there is a third of our force cut off at one blow. but a messenger was sent after major galbraith,--he is the agent, you know, at the upper agency,--at the same time that one went for lieutenant sheehan. major galbraith started yesterday for st. paul with a company of half-breed recruits for the union army. they are called the renville rangers. they ought to be back here pretty soon and will add fifty more men. then there are a good many refugees, probably one hundred, who can fight, and we have several cannon, with a regular army sergeant in charge of them. the indians, you know, are deadly afraid of cannon. so we ought to be able to make a pretty good defence, though i wish there were a stockade." "did you say that major galbraith's company is made up of half-breeds?" inquired al, remembering with a shudder the evil face of the wretch who had shot his father and whom he himself had killed. "yes. but most of them are reliable fellows, otherwise they would not be willing to leave their country and go south to fight the rebels." by this time they had reached the headquarters building, and al saw, standing in front of it, five or six of the indians who had brought them in. "who are those indians, wallace?" he asked. "they are some of the party who rescued us." wallace looked closely at the red men, who were standing idle with their ponies, evidently waiting for some one who was inside the building. "why, those are sissetons from the upper agency," he said. "probably john otherday, solomon twostars or some of the renvilles are with them. they have been going around the country all to-day and last night, warning white people and bringing them in and there are other parties of sissetons and wahpetons doing the same thing; though it's mighty dangerous business, for the hostiles are almost as bitter against them as against the whites. very few of the upper indians seem to have joined the uprising. they are mostly christians, you know, and their conduct shows the great work of the missionaries." the boys entered the headquarters building, and though lieutenant sheehan was surrounded by many men, all urgently anxious to transact their business with him, al presently found an opportunity to tell him of tommy's capture and to ask that men be sent after him. the officer listened intently to the story and when it was finished, laid his hand kindly on al's shoulder. "my boy," said he, with much emotion, "god knows, i wish i could send men after your brother instantly; i know how you feel and especially how your mother must feel, and i would gladly do it for your poor father's sake, for he was a gallant officer in the mexican war. but there are two dozen people here already who have lost members of their families in the same way; and for many of them the situation is much worse than yours, because those they have lost are grown and are likely to be killed or tortured by the indians, while your brother is a child, and i don't believe they will hurt him. but i have had to tell every one the same thing; i can do nothing now. this place is likely to be attacked by a thousand or more indians at any moment and we have not one-tenth enough men to defend it properly. not a man can be spared from here now, for it will be all we can do to save ourselves and all these women and children from massacre. probably in a few days we shall have hundreds of troops from st. paul and the east, and then we can go after these infernal red murderers and punish them and rescue their living victims. but, meantime, you must be prepared to stand with the rest of us in defending your mother and little sister. and i think you are a lad who will do your share." he glanced approvingly at al's straight figure and steady eyes. "i shall try to, sir," answered al. "i know you will," said the lieutenant. "you had better go and help the men who are working on the storehouse." he pointed to the building mentioned and then turned to several men who were waiting for him; while al, very much downcast at his failure but still feeling a little more hopeful of tommy's safety because of lieutenant sheehan's words, walked out again with wallace. chapter iii besieged in fort ridgely the remainder of that afternoon and the following night passed without serious alarms, but it was heavy with labor for the little garrison. the roofs of the storehouses and of the barracks for enlisted men were covered with earth to protect them against fire arrows, and their sides were loop-holed. earth and log barricades were erected at various points overlooking the heads of ravines. little could be done to protect the officers' frame quarters or the log stables and outbuildings, which lay, much exposed, at the western corner of the fort. early in the evening major galbraith's renville rangers came into the fort, forty-five strong, weary with a twelve-hour forced march from st. peter, where they had been overtaken by the courier sent to recall them. a large majority of these men remained loyal to their duty during the ensuing days but a few of them, their slumbering ferocity roused by the reports of the uprising of their savage kindred, skulked away and joined the hostiles, committing before they left an act of dastardly treachery. several small cannon, in charge of the gallant ordnance sergeant john jones, of the united states regular army, were placed in commanding positions in the fort, and that night a heavy chain guard was posted all around the place. but, though several false alarms were given, no indians appeared, and the night passed in reasonable quiet. mrs. briscoe, still too overwhelmed with dumb grief to do more than mechanically comply with the arrangements made for her and annie by al and her friends, passed the night not uncomfortably in the hospitable but over-crowded home of the smiths; and al slept with a dozen men and boys, including wallace, on the floor of the store below, his musket and revolver beside him. the early part of the next day was spent like the one preceding it, in further strengthening the barricades and buildings, in cleaning weapons, and, beyond that, simply in endless discussion of the ghastly events of the past few days and uneasy speculation upon the future. though many of the refugees would have gladly given all that remained of their shattered fortunes to get to st. paul or some other place of assured security, the attempt was not to be thought of, for it was known that the hostiles were skulking all about the post and any party which might start out for the east would undoubtedly be set upon and destroyed. a few scattered survivors of the massacre continued to come in now and then, exhausted, famished, often wounded, and always nearly insane from the unnumbered perils and rigorous hardships through which they had passed. an attack on the fort was expected at any time, as lieutenant sheehan's words to al had indicated, and the only cause for wonder was that it had not come sooner. indeed, had the defenders but known it, little crow had been urgent in the councils of the indians for an overwhelming assault on fort ridgely on the evening of the eighteenth, immediately after the bloody defeat of captain marsh's detachment. but some of his more cautious followers opposed the plan on the ground that many of the warriors were still out over the country, murdering settlers and destroying property, so that the full strength of their forces could not yet be brought against the fort. this view was eagerly sustained by the strong element among the hostiles who were opposed to the whole outbreak on principle, seeing in it nothing but ultimate disaster for their people, yet who did not dare openly to champion the cause of the whites for fear of being summarily dealt with by their more violent associates. this element hoped that a delay in the attack on the fort might enable the whites to gather a sufficient force there to repulse it when it should be made, and assuredly the delay had rendered it possible for the defenders to place the post in a much better state of defence by the afternoon of august than it had been two days before. it was about one o'clock on that hot, still afternoon when al and wallace stepped out of the smiths' store, having just finished their dinner. they were about to start over to the storehouse of the fort, where some work was still being done, when wallace noticed a loose horse wandering down into one of the ravines not far from the store. "that's one of our horses," he exclaimed. "he must have slipped his halter. if he goes far the indians will catch him. come on; let's get him!" followed by al, he dashed into the stable for a halter and then started on a run for the ravine. the latter was quite wide and thickly fringed with bushes and small trees, while the bottom of it was carpeted with luxuriant grass, which the horse was nibbling as they came up. but their appearance startled him and with a snort he leaped past them and galloped on some distance further, when he again halted. the boys followed, wallace this time approaching more diplomatically and saying in a soothing tone, "come, frank; come boy! nice boy!" "he'll give you a jolt in the ribs if you get too close," warned al, as he noticed the animal begin to edge his hind feet around in the direction of wallace. but frank was not so mischievous as he looked; for in a moment wallace had the halter on his head and the boys were just about to turn again up the ravine toward the fort, when, without the least warning, there sprang from the bushes not ten yards behind them two indian warriors, dressed only in breech-clouts and both armed with bows and arrows. uttering not a sound they sprang toward the boys with the evident intention of taking them alive. al and wallace were too dumbfounded to move until the indians were almost upon them. then wallace dropped the horse's halter and, catching up a heavy stick lying at his feet, hurled it at the head of one of the warriors. it caught the savage fairly across the face and he reeled for an instant from the force of the blow, while his companion, somewhat daunted, halted also. the boys ran at full speed up the ravine, not even pausing to note the effect of wallace's throw, which he afterward admitted had found its mark by pure accident. they had gone but a few yards when an arrow whizzed past al's head and struck in the ground in front of them. they only ran the faster. a half-dozen more arrows flew by them and then wallace uttered a cry of pain as one struck him fairly in the left arm. but by this time, fortunately, they were at the head of the ravine and only a few feet from the nearest buildings. al stole a glance behind him, to see that their two pursuers had been joined by more than a dozen others; and then the boys dashed around the corner of the building, out of range, shouting at the tops of their voices, "indians! indians!" all over the fort men sprang to their feet, seized their guns, and such as were not already behind them rushed to the barricades and protected buildings. but by no means all of them had reached cover when a scattering, but numerous volley of musket shots and arrows was poured into the fort, not only out of the ravine from which the boys had escaped but from a number of others. al then saw why the indians following them had not fired on them with guns, for that would have spoiled the contemplated surprise of the fort, which their unexpected appearance in the ravine in pursuit of frank had, perhaps, precipitated. the defenders replied to the indian fire so promptly and vigorously that the savages fell back from their first rush and concealed themselves about the heads of the ravines, whence they began a steady and well-sustained fire. the women and children, however, had nearly all reached places of shelter, when al hurried up to the smiths' store after his musket and revolver, almost dragging wallace who, beside himself with pain, was frantically trying to pull the deeply imbedded arrow from his arm. they encountered mr. smith and his wife, accompanied by mrs. briscoe and annie, who were fleeing from the exposed store, through which the indian bullets were crashing, to the shelter of the barracks building. "here, al," cried mr. smith, thrusting the latter's musket, revolver, and ammunition into his hands. "don't go in there; you'll be killed. come on, wallace. god, lad, are you hurt?" wallace made no reply, but all of them ran, crouching low, to the barracks, which they reached safely after a race of a few rods, though it seemed like a mile with the bullets and arrows whistling about them. here dr. alfred muller, the brave assistant surgeon of the fort, aided by his heroic wife, took charge of wallace and soon had the arrow extracted from his arm and the painful, though not serious, wound properly dressed. it was the first of nearly a score of similar cases which the mullers were called upon to treat in fort ridgely. wallace was much distressed at his inability to take his place with the defenders, but al and mr. smith had to leave him in the surgeon's charge and hasten out to join the rest of the active garrison. on their way they encountered sergeant jones, working desperately with several other men over the vent of one of the small cannon. al had already wondered dimly why he had heard none of the cannon firing, but he understood after mr. smith had asked, "why don't you open with the guns, sergeant? it would scare the indians worse than anything." "can't," replied the sergeant, without looking up from his work. "some of major galbraith's infernal half-breeds have spiked every one of the guns and then skipped out. but i'll have them in action in a few minutes." he continued boring furiously with the drill he was using to clear the nail from the gun's vent and in a moment he shouted, "hooray! she's clear!" then he added, addressing the cannoneer of the detachment, "give them two-second shell and spherical case, fast as you can work her. sweep the head of the ravine and aim low. i'll see if i can open the next one." drill in hand, he rushed away toward another gun some distance off, totally oblivious to the fire opened on him as soon as he appeared on the open ground. mr. smith and al followed him and took their places among a number of others already there, behind a log barricade which stood not far from the next gun and facing the post stables out beyond the western corner of the fort. the men around them were chiefly refugees and some of them were greatly excited, firing rapidly and without aim, while a few others crouched down and did not attempt to shoot at all. there were no officers among them and no one seemed to be in command. "don't fire without something to aim at, al," said mr. smith. "wait till you see the flash of a gun or a movement in the grass and then shoot at the spot." mr. smith was armed with a muzzle-loading rifle, which he was firing very slowly and carefully, and al followed his example, for neither of them had much ammunition. mr. smith knew that the other men with them were not much better off, for the small arms ammunition supply of the fort was perilously low, and he tried with some success to induce them to fire more deliberately. the panic-stricken skulkers, however, he could not arouse to their duty. they merely lay still and cursed him when he told them to get up and sneered at their cowardice. out to their left, sergeant jones was still trying unsuccessfully to open the vent of the field-gun. occasionally the boom of the gun which he had already repaired roared out above the crackle of musketry, and in the ravine which its fire was sweeping the indians gave way and retired. presently he succeeded in getting the second gun into action, and the assailants disappeared from that front also; and by the time he had them all working the indians had become discouraged. their fire gradually slackened, and as night approached, their main body drew off; though enough warriors still remained in well concealed places to maintain a desultory fire, and the weary garrison, resting on their arms, caught but fitful repose through the hours of darkness, for no one could tell when the attack might be renewed. the fort remained in a state of siege all the next day until near evening, the garrison taking reliefs in guarding the defences. but about dusk the indian fire ceased altogether, and total silence settled over the hillsides, which for thirty hours had echoed the turmoil of battle. three soldiers lay dead within the fort and eight others of the garrison were wounded. the quiet which reigned through the night and the morning of the twenty-second was more disturbing than the uproar which had preceded it. while the latter prevailed, the garrison at least knew where their enemies were and what they were doing, while now no one could tell what new and formidable plans they might be hatching. no one believed that they had given up the hope of taking the fort and those in the garrison most familiar with the indian methods of warfare regarded it as certain that they were making ready for a final, great assault. early on the afternoon of the twenty-second it came, beginning with a sudden and tremendous volley fired into the fort from all sides at once. the indians, in a seemingly countless horde, then sprang up and made a rush for the fort, which seemed about to be overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers. but the garrison was in position and ready for them. volley after volley poured into the approaching mass of savages, while the shells of the artillery tore through their ranks. unused to bearing the losses of an open, stand-up fight, the indians quickly gave way and fled back to the ravines, where, however, they remained, stubbornly pouring in an intense fire, which searched every portion of the fort. little crow was some distance behind the indian lines, directing the general attack, while on the field itself, mankato, good thunder, big eagle and other veteran chiefs were leading the savage hosts, which outnumbered the garrison five to one. they pressed the attack relentlessly. musket and rifle balls tore through the officers' wooden quarters and other exposed structures, and now and then a fire arrow whizzed through the air and struck its blazing torch into one of the frame buildings. soon several of the latter, including the smiths' store, broke into flames and the roar of the conflagration added to the terrifying confusion of the battle, while stifling smoke clouds rolled across the field, both blinding and choking the defenders. but though the attack was vigorous all along the line, it was especially so at the western corner of the fort, where the indians had discovered that if they could gain possession of the exposed stables they could command and render untenable a considerable extent of the interior defences. al was at the same barricade which he had occupied two days before, but it was being defended now chiefly by men of the renville rangers, who were fighting as courageously as the best of veterans. all at once al saw lieutenant sheehan and lieutenant gorman, of the rangers, run up to the field gun near them, and heard sheehan cry to the gunners: "fire shell into the left of those stables! set them afire if you can. the indians are trying to get in them." then the officers ran on to their barricade. "boys," shouted lieutenant gorman to the rangers, "those stables on the right must be burned. come on! don't go near the ones on the left; the cannon is going to knock them to pieces. hurry up!" he sprang across the barricade, and a number of the men without the least hesitation darted after him over the exposed ground in front, their guns trailing beside them and their heads bent low. hardly thinking what he was doing but eager to be of service, al followed them, and in the general uproar he did not hear lieutenant sheehan shouting to him to come back. the distance was not great, and though the bullets seemed to rain around them, almost before he knew it al found himself with lieutenant gorman and his dusky companions inside the stable, and none of them hurt. under lieutenant gorman's quick orders, the rangers snatched up handfuls of hay, lighted them, and blew them into flames along the inner walls of the building. but al, during the moment they were thus occupied, peered out through an opening in the western end of the stable. what he saw alarmed him. there were indians everywhere, just below the edge of the hill out of the direct line of fire from the fort, and a number of them were actually along the outside wall of the stable itself. al thrust his revolver through the opening and fired three times in rapid succession, with what effect he never knew, for he heard lieutenant gorman shout, "she'll burn now. come on, get away! get away!" the inner walls of the stable were a seething mass of flames as they fled through the doorway, hearing as they ran the crash and explosion of a shell in the stables beside the one which they had just left. as he sprang back behind the barricade again, al felt a hand grasp him roughly by the arm, and heard lieutenant sheehan's voice saying in his ear: "you young rascal, what do you mean by running out like that and risking your life? you're not a soldier; i didn't order you out. what would your mother and sister do if you were killed?" this aspect of the matter had not occurred to al before. he began to reply, in penitent confusion, "why,--i don't know, sir. i--" "well, hang it, don't do it again, that's all," broke in the officer. then he added, while a half smile came over his face, powder-grimed and wet with perspiration: "anyhow, you're a plucky youngster. your father would be proud of you." "i should say he is plucky," interjected gorman. "he started to clean out the redskins over there, but hadn't time to finish the job." the two officers disappeared through the smoke up the line, and al resumed his methodical musket practice, the rangers around him now and then glancing at him approvingly, though he did not notice it. the fire along their immediate front relaxed a little as the stables blazed into ruins and the assailants found that they could not utilize this coveted point of vantage. but the indians clung to the ravines with a stubbornness truly amazing, the utmost efforts of the artillery failing to dislodge them. presently one of the rangers kneeling beside al, with a gesture of despair threw down his gun,--a cumbersome, old-fashioned weapon of the type called "harper's ferry muskets," with which all major galbraith's men were armed,--and exclaimed, "no more bullets!" it was an ominous announcement and one which was very soon followed by others of similar nature, not only at their barricade, but all over the fort. consumed by the rapid fire which had been necessary to hold back the fierce indian attack, the small arms ammunition supply of the fort was almost exhausted, and a few moments more of such work would see it all expended. a dreadful contingency faced the defenders. with their ammunition all gone, their assailants would be able to rush in and slaughter them almost at will. one by one the men of the garrison ran out of bullets and the fire perceptibly slackened. the indians quickly noticed this and, guessing the cause, redoubled their efforts. al, thanks to his careful use of ammunition, still had quite a supply left, but he saw with horror what the general situation was and realized that unless something could be done to relieve it, they would all be massacred in a few minutes. being under no orders and wishing to be with his mother and sister at the last moment, if this was really at hand, he left the barricade and ran to the barracks building, where they were crowded with the other noncombatants. a distressing scene met his eyes as he entered. many of the women were gathered in groups, weeping and wringing their hands, their children clinging about them, while here and there others knelt, praying aloud or absorbed in silent supplications. a long row of wounded lay stretched on pallets at one side. but across the room he saw another group, the only one in which the spirit of courage and determination seemed still to prevail. to al's surprise, his mother was one of this party, apparently perfectly calm and her face lighted by an expression of noble resolution and self-forgetfulness. with her were several other women of like firm spirit, and two or three men, all of them busily absorbed in some occupation around a stove in which a hot fire was blazing. al soon found that they were casting musket balls, their supply of lead consisting of the flattened bullets of the indians, which men were gathering up outside and bringing to them to be re-moulded. the rapidly increasing supply which they were thus preparing was being augmented by some of sergeant jones's artillerymen, who were opening spherical case shot and removing from them the balls, which served perfectly for musket ammunition. although lieutenant sheehan and sergeant jones had thought of these providential expedients but a few moments before, already small quantities of the new balls were being taken out and distributed to the men in the defences, whose fire, consequently, was resuming its former volume. his hope and enthusiasm all returned to al as soon as he found that a vigorous defence could still be maintained, and after an affectionate embrace and a few words with his mother and annie, he ran back again to the barricade. it was not long after his return there, and late in the afternoon, that the indians once more made a determined effort to storm the position. marshalling their forces below the crest of the hill, they rushed up from the ravines in throngs, brandishing their weapons and whooping at the tops of their voices; while the flare of their many-colored war-bonnets and robes, the tiger-like contortions of their muscular, naked bodies, and the glint of rifle barrel and knife blade, flashing back the rays of the sinking sun, made a spectacle as wildly magnificent as it was awe-inspiring. but again the heroic garrison proved equal to the emergency. from barricade and loop-holed wall the infantry poured steady volleys into them, while the artillery, holding its fire until the charge was well under way, lashed their ranks with case shot. though they had started forward with the utmost enthusiasm, they soon began to hesitate and break. with their undisciplined methods of fighting, the indian does not live who could withstand such a fire. in a moment they had halted, and a few seconds more saw them scurrying back to the ravines, utterly repulsed, while from the throats of the sturdy little garrison rose cheer after cheer of victory, and men leaped upon the barricades and tossed their hats in the air. every one felt that the enemy had made his last, supreme effort, and such, indeed, proved to be the case. the indian fire gradually died away, and by nightfall silence again reigned over fort ridgely, wrecked, smoking, and shot-torn, but triumphant. the stables and outlying buildings, with the exceptions of the guard-house and the magazine, were smouldering ruins; the officers' quarters were riddled through and through; the storehouse and barracks were pock-marked and splintered with bullets; nearly all the oxen and mules belonging to the quartermaster's department were captured or killed, and seven more wounded men lay beside those who had been injured two days before. but the fight was won. through the night the garrison lay on their arms, watching the glare of distant conflagrations off to the southeast, where the defeated indians were burning farm-houses and stacks as they marched on to the village of new ulm, sixteen miles away. fort ridgely remained undisturbed, though new ulm, where two hundred and fifty volunteer citizens under the command of judge charles e. flandreau had gathered to defend the town and the one thousand five hundred non-combatants in refuge there, was desperately attacked next day, almost wholly burned, and nearly captured by the infuriated savages. though the indians seemed to be gone from their vicinity, the occupants of fort ridgely were obliged to remain inert for several days longer, and then, at last, on the morning of the twenty-seventh, their eyes were gladdened by the sight of a large column of troops approaching from the eastward, and the little army of colonel h. h. sibley, hastily recruited and as yet poorly disciplined and wretchedly armed, but full of ardor, marched into the quadrangle of shattered buildings amid the cheers of the men and the tearful thanksgivings of the women. the never-to-be-forgotten siege was over. chapter iv refugees the arrival of colonel sibley's troops gave to the destitute refugees in fort ridgely their first opportunity of turning from the desperate struggle for immediate self-preservation in which they had been ceaselessly involved for nine days, to contemplate fully the extent of the disaster which had fallen upon them and to consider what their future course must be. to most of them the indian outbreak and its consequent massacre and pillage had brought the total ruin of their fortunes, for in general they were poor people who had come into the west and started their homes on free government land, in the hope of acquiring comfort and modest fortunes through years of faithful labor. but to the families which had been so fortunate as to remain intact, losing no loved members at the hands of the savages, the disaster was not irremediable. the property they had lost was not, in most cases, of very great value, save as measured by labor; and as their lands still remained to them, they could again enter into occupation as soon as settled conditions were restored, and in a short time recover their former positions. so, although a few such families lost heart and left the country, most of them remained and lived to see the time when they were very glad they had done so. but with the families which had been shattered by the savages, which had lost father or mother or sons or daughters struck down in the slaughter, the case was far different. and many, alas, were in this condition, for more than one thousand white people had fallen victims to the indians along the desolated minnesota frontier during those few mid-august days. where the head of a family had been lost, his widow and children must either undertake to eke out a precarious existence on the devastated claim from which they had been driven, surrounded by the hard conditions of pioneer life, or they must return to the older parts of the country whence they had originally come, and there seek the aid and protection of relatives or friends. the first arrangement was often impossible, for not many a widow with a family of small children could hope to sustain herself in such a country, beautiful and fertile but at that time wild and practically unbroken. for these reasons there was a long and doleful procession of destitute people passing through st. paul, winona, and the other towns along the mississippi river on their way back to the more easterly states during the days of late august and early september, . they came from fort ridgely, from new ulm, from acton and forest city and hutchinson and a score of other little settlements along the border. among these unfortunate people were to be found the survivors of the briscoe family, bound for st. louis, missouri. how they had finally come to decide upon this course will require some explanation. when al first realized, with the advent of colonel sibley's troops into fort ridgely, that the indians had been checked and the tide turned, and that the white men were really setting about regaining possession of the country, his first and greatest ambition was to set out at once for the rescue of tommy; his second was to visit the lonely and ruined cabin twenty miles north of the fort and there give the remains of his father tender burial. but he soon found that difficulties lay in the way of accomplishing either of these desires. the army could not instantly spring forth as one man and rush to the rescue of his brother. the soldiers had to be prepared and provided for a campaign which, moreover, even when inaugurated, must be carefully and methodically carried out. several hundred white captives, among whom it seemed almost certain that tommy would be found, were in the possession of the indians. if a precipitate attack should be made upon the latter their captives would, past a doubt, be massacred to a soul. their release must be accomplished by diplomacy; the indians must be made to realize that only by the safe delivery of their prisoners could they hope to mitigate the stern punishment which they had richly earned at the hands of the government, and which would surely be meted out to them sooner or later. to accomplish the safe delivery of the captives might mean weeks of careful work on the part of the friendly indians in inducing the hostile element to see the necessity for such action. it might require numerous councils and it might require fighting, properly prepared for. all this meant that if al were to take personal part in the rescue of tommy, they must stay at fort ridgely for some time to come; and to stay at fort ridgely meant that they must have some money. here was the most distressing difficulty in the whole situation. the briscoes had absolutely nothing left; they were penniless. even their few household goods had been destroyed or carried away by the indians and these goods, together with their buildings and the handful of live stock and farm implements on their claim, had constituted all their worldly possessions. they had not always been in such a precarious condition; in fact, two years before the period at which our story opens they would not have dreamed that they could ever be reduced to such circumstances as were theirs when we first saw them. in the briscoes had been living in the prosperous little city of glasgow, missouri, at that time an important centre of steamboat traffic on the missouri river, drawing to its numerous and well-appointed stores the trade of a wide region of farms and plantations, and to its wharves and warehouses the great crops of hemp and tobacco, corn and grain, vegetables and live-stock with which the whole rich country teemed. mr. briscoe's business, the retailing of furniture, was extensive and profitable, his home was as comfortable and attractive as any in the town, and his family lacked for none of the comforts of life, while many of its luxuries were also theirs. once or twice a year, usually in the summer and winter, when there was something of a lull in the business, they would make a trip to st. louis, where mrs. briscoe's sister, her only near relative, lived with her husband and family. his parents had intended to send al to an academy in st. louis in the fall of , to complete his preparatory education before applying for an appointment as a cadet at west point. then came the opening of the civil war and the beginning of a rapid succession of events in the family, which had forced the abandonment of this and of all the other plans which they had cherished for the future. the opening of hostilities, precipitated by the attack on fort sumter, produced a commercial and industrial effect upon the country at large almost as calamitous as the political one; and this was particularly true in the border states, where sentiment was sharply divided. mr. briscoe's business was one which depended to an unusual degree upon conditions of general prosperity and tranquillity. when the people of the community found their incomes destroyed or sharply cut down by general conditions, they could and did get along without new furniture, though they could not get along without groceries or clothing. his business suffered on this account, but it suffered still more from other causes. mr. briscoe had always commanded an unusual degree of popularity in glasgow since he had gone there, a youth, in , because he had enlisted for the mexican war, among many other volunteers from the town and from howard county, in the first regiment of missouri dragoons, under colonel alexander w. doniphan; an organization immensely popular in central missouri at the time. he had served through all the wonderfully romantic campaigns of that regiment with gallantry and distinction, coming out of the war a first lieutenant. he had won his sergeantcy for saving the life of a comrade, another glasgow youth, in the fight at brazitos, new mexico, december , ; his second lieutenantcy for faithfulness and courage during the long march from sante fe to chihuahua, and his first lieutenantcy for gallantry in the capture of that city from a mexican army five times as large as the american force, on february , . consequently, on his return to glasgow he had been regarded as a hero, and the people could not do enough for him, showing their favor in one most practical way by bestowing as much of their trade upon him as they possibly could. he, in turn, entertained the liveliest interest in the exciting events of the mexican war and the most profound and loyal regard for his old commander, colonel doniphan. it was in the latter's honor that he christened his eldest son alexander doniphan, and we have seen that he even applied the fanciful names, chihuahua and montezuma,--shortened for convenience to chick and monty,--to his horses, in memory of his days below the rio grande. but the very fact that he had been one of doniphan's men was equivalent to a declaration that in spirit he was a sympathizer with the political theories and social institutions at that time almost universally accepted by the people of the southern states, where slavery prevailed; for it was among people of such convictions that doniphan's regiment had been almost wholly recruited. because he had been one of them, everybody so naturally assumed that his views agreed with those of his military associates that he was seldom even called upon to express himself. when he was, the fact that he said little, and that of a rather non-committal character, only led people to believe that he did not care for discussion and regretted the political unrest of the time, as, indeed, did many others. this ill-defined position did very well until the beginning of the period of intense agitation and bitterness immediately following the election of abraham lincoln to the presidency in the fall of . he then found himself forced to face the issue frankly and declare, not only to himself but to others, whether he intended to throw in his fortunes with the south in the war which every one foresaw was rapidly approaching, or to stand firmly by the union. it was a bitterly hard choice for him to make and one which he deferred as long as possible; for, though both he and his wife were of northern birth and ancestry, the most cherished associations of their lives had been with southern people, and they loved the south like their native land. but he believed, and mrs. briscoe believed with him, that the southern idea of destroying the union was absolutely wrong, and that a true american citizen's allegiance was due, not to any one state or section but to the nation. when, after much painful reflection, he found himself unalterably committed to this conviction, he was a man of too much courage not to declare it. his associates and fellow citizens in the town learned of his attitude first with astonishment, then with resentment, and finally with cold hostility. he had made his choice, he had voluntarily arrayed himself against the dearest desires of their hearts and what they conceived to be the most vital interests of their lives. they turned from him as from a betrayer, a traitor, and he suddenly found himself worse than a stranger in the community where for fifteen years past he had been respected and beloved above most other citizens. it was the sad story, as old as organized society, of the dearest private associations torn asunder by the rancor of public controversy. his business suddenly declined to almost nothing. it would not have been so bad if he had made provision for the future. but it had always been so easy to make money that he and his family had spent it just as easily, for it had seemed that the business alone would always continue to provide them with all they might need. his credit with the wholesale houses of st. louis and the east was large and unquestioned, and when the trouble came his store was full of goods unpaid for. too long he struggled to dispose of his stock in a town whose people, all at once, either could not or would not buy. finally, when his creditors, themselves pressed for money by the industrial depression, began to harass him, he sold at ruinous sacrifices. but he could not stem the tide. he was forced into bankruptcy, and stock, store building, home and household goods, all went down in the yawning pit of debt; for such was his sense of honor that he would withhold nothing in order to pay to those who had trusted him the money to which they were justly entitled. and he did pay it, dollar for dollar, to the last cent; but when it was paid he had nothing left in the world except a little less than three hundred dollars in cash, a few bits of cherished family silver and bric-a-brac belonging to his wife, and a scanty stock of family clothing. his brother-in-law in st. louis, mr. colton, would gladly have helped him, but he, also, had been brought to the verge of ruin by the business upheaval, and mr. briscoe, well knowing this, declined to add a particle to his burdens. to go into business again at such a time, in another town and without capital, was not to be thought of. neither was sufficiently remunerative employment to be found, nor could he yet enter the union army, as he ardently desired to do, leaving his family destitute. the free government lands seemed to offer a home which they could acquire with little difficulty, and a living in the meantime as cheap as could be found anywhere. so they chose minnesota and went to the claim north of fort ridgely, where mr. briscoe hoped that in a few years he might develop a farm and accumulate a little money. then, if the war was not yet over and his services were still needed, he might leave al in charge for a time and go to the front. such, briefly, was the history of the briscoe family up to the time when we first met with them, and such their plans for the future, so rudely interrupted by the calamities of the indian outbreak. without father, without money, without agricultural implements or horses, and without even a home to live in, with the whole country still overrun by hostile savages, it was out of the question, after the relief of fort ridgely, for them either to return to their claim or to remain where they were. the only place in the world which seemed to offer a haven of refuge for the time being, at least, was the home of mrs. briscoe's sister in st. louis. pitying friends among the other almost equally destitute refugees, even soldiers of the garrison who were touched by the wretched plight of the little family and by al's manly conduct during the siege, contributed to a small fund sufficient to take them by steamboat to st. louis; and on one of the last days of august they started for st. paul with a large party, escorted by a detachment of soldiers. before they left, al and his mother asked and obtained an interview with colonel sibley, concerning tommy. colonel sibley was a man of great prominence in minnesota, having been elected the first governor of the state after its admission to the union in . at the time of the indian outbreak he was living at the mouth of the minnesota river, where governor ramsey sent for him to take command of the troops called out to suppress the uprising, because of his great influence over the indians and his familiarity with their methods of warfare. he was a gentle, kindly man, whose heart was torn by the loss and suffering of the people along the western border of his state. mrs. briscoe and al called at his headquarters on the morning of the day they left for st. paul. the colonel received them with his accustomed courtesy, asked them to be seated and, himself taking a chair facing them, listened to mrs. briscoe's sad story with deep and compassionate attention. when she had finished he sat, seemingly lost in thought, for a short time, his chin resting on his hand. then he looked up at mrs. briscoe and said: "madam, my heart bleeds for you. i wish that it were within my power to restore your little son to you at once. i wish that you might remain in minnesota in order that you could sooner have the happiness of knowing when he is recaptured. but neither you nor your son here," he glanced at al, "need feel that your absence will defer the little boy's rescue one moment longer than if you remained here. the recovery of all the white captives is now in the hands of my forces and we shall get them all as soon as we possibly can. i give you my promise, mrs. briscoe; i will personally see to it that he is sent to you in st. louis as soon as it can be done, and if there should be any delay you shall be promptly notified of the facts. your husband's remains shall also receive christian burial whenever a party can visit your claim, and in case any of your property is found there which is of value, i will have it stored here in fort ridgely until you return or send for it. can you tell me, my boy," he turned to al, "anything of the appearance of the indian who carried away your brother which might help to identify him?" "i should know him again instantly, sir, if i saw him," al replied. "he was a tall fellow, over six feet, i think, and seemed very strong. he had a deep scar, like a knife or sword cut, running down his left cheek and along his neck and shoulder." "o-ho!" ejaculated the colonel. "that surely ought to make it easy if he is an indian belonging to any of the tribes in this region. orderly!" instantly a soldier opened the door, came to attention and saluted. "tell major brown i want to see him." the orderly disappeared, but in a moment the door opened again admitting major joseph r. brown, a famous indian trader who had been major galbraith's predecessor as indian agent at the lower agency, and who was now in command of one of colonel sibley's companies of volunteers. probably no white man in minnesota was personally acquainted with more of the indians in that section. colonel sibley and al described to him the indian who had carried off tommy, but major brown shook his head. "i know no indian in these parts who answers to that description," he replied. "he must be an outsider; perhaps a yanktonais who has drifted in because there was trouble in the air. there are probably a good many of them around." this was disappointing intelligence yet enlightening in a way, for though it indicated that tommy was not in the clutches of any of the minnesota savages, at the same time it limited his captor to one of the dakota tribes further west and to that extent simplified the mystery of his whereabouts and possible fate. colonel sibley, however, was still of the opinion that he would be found with the other white captives when these should be recovered, as he did not believe that a warrior from a distant part of the country would care to burden himself permanently with a prisoner. with such unsatisfactory conclusions al and his mother were forced to be content, and though somewhat encouraged by the hopeful and reassuring words of colonel sibley, who did his best to cheer them, they began the long journey toward st. louis with heavy hearts. chapter v hope deferred it is not necessary to enter into the details of that trip, which was devoid of unusual incidents. in due time the unfortunate family reached their destination, where they were affectionately received by the coltons and taken into their home. since the dark days at the beginning of the war the coltons had been obliged to give up their pleasant home on morgan street, in what was then one of the most desirable residence districts of the city, and had moved into a smaller house on palm street, far up on the north side and not many blocks from the st. louis fair grounds. mr. colton had succeeded in weathering his reverses and still had his business, that of real estate, downtown; but it was in a far from prosperous condition, and his income was hardly sufficient to support him and his family, consisting of his wife and two small children. he had had the misfortune, when a young man, to lose his left arm at the elbow so that he was handicapped in the battle of life; but he made up in mental capacity what he lacked in physical, so he had always been able, until the beginning of the war, to make a comfortable living. on the second evening after their arrival in st. louis, when supper was over, mr. colton asked al to take a walk with him. they strolled west across the open lots and along the thinly populated streets lying in the direction of the fair grounds. mr. colton seemed rather abstracted and talked but little; and presently al asked, abruptly, "uncle will, your business isn't paying very well just now, is it?" "well, no, it isn't, al," mr. colton replied, apparently a little startled by the question. "why?" "i have been thinking ever since we got here," al answered, "that our coming to you as we have, without money or anything else, will add a great deal to your expenses and other troubles. of course i look forward to repaying you in the future, so far as money can repay such kindness; but that won't help just now, and i wish i could find some work to do right away, so that i could earn enough to pay part of the living expenses of mother and annie and myself." mr. colton laid his hand affectionately on al's shoulder. "my boy," said he, "you are your father's true son. that is just what he would have been thinking of in similar circumstances. i am glad you have spoken of it, al, for it is just that problem which has been troubling me ever since you and your dear mother and little sister came. you know how thankful i should be if i could provide you all with everything you need and have no question of means enter into the matter." "yes, i do know, uncle will," said al, earnestly. mr. colton went on, "i should like to make your poor mother and annie as comfortable and easy in every way as possible and i should like to have you continue with school until you are ready to take up your chosen profession. but i do not see how i can compass these desires at present, though perhaps i can later. i was just going to suggest that it would probably be necessary for you to get employment for a while when you spoke of it. i am more pleased than i can say that you thought of it first, without any suggestion." "i don't see how any one could fail to understand the situation, sir," answered al. "do you suppose i could find a place to-morrow?" "quite likely. you can go down town with me in the morning, and during the day we can call on several acquaintances of mine, some one of whom may be able to give you as good a position as you can well fill to begin with." accordingly, quite early next morning they started for the business district. mr. colton's office was more than two miles from his home and they walked to fifth street and there took a horse car down town. the first place at which they called was a large wholesale grocery house whose proprietor, mr. white, was a personal friend of mr. colton. the latter held a brief private interview with him, rapidly relating the circumstances under which the briscoes had come to st. louis, and then al was called in. mr. white liked him from the first, and within half an hour he was hard at work on an upper floor of the big warehouse, assisting one of the shipping clerks in getting down, checking, and sending out orders of goods. mr. white had informed him that as soon as he was sufficiently familiar with the stock and the method of checking it out, he would himself be promoted to a position as shipping clerk. though as time went on and the days lengthened into weeks, al was obliged to confess to himself that the business possessed few attractions for him, yet he applied himself industriously to mastering its details, feeling not only a sense of satisfaction in the knowledge that he was winning his employer's confidence and approval, but a still deeper pride in the fact that he was becoming able to bear a very material share of the modest living expenses of himself and his mother and sister. although mr. white imagined that al's rapid progress in familiarizing himself with his work was due to a natural aptitude for the business, the fact was that he was simply determined to get ahead and earn as much money as possible. a constant mental unrest, due chiefly to his suspense over tommy's fate, possessed him, and he tried to soothe it as far as might be by becoming absorbed in his work. beyond his natural anxiety for his brother, however, though he did not exactly realize it, was the repugnance to obligation, the unquenchable desire to have his mother and sister independent, which was a characteristic inherited from his sturdy father. he very soon qualified himself to take his place as a shipping clerk, thus securing an advance in pay, which enabled him still further to relieve his uncle's unwonted burdens. thus the autumn went by and mrs. briscoe began to look impatiently for news from general sibley, for they had been able to gather something in a fragmentary way from the st. louis papers of the events which had taken place in minnesota since they had left there, and they knew that colonel sibley had been made a brigadier general of volunteers for his skilful conduct of the indian campaign. at length one day the long-looked-for letter came. mr. colton brought it out from his office, and with palpitating hearts the family gathered around al while he read it aloud; for mrs. briscoe was too much agitated to read it. the letter was dated at fort snelling and was in general sibley's own handwriting. it read as follows: _mrs. thomas briscoe, st. louis, mo._ my dear madam: it is with the deepest regret that i am obliged to inform you that thus far our efforts to recover your young son from his indian captors have been unsuccessful. late in september we rescued about two hundred and fifty white prisoners near the yellow medicine but he was not among them. we have also captured about two thousand of the indian miscreants who were prominent in the late outbreak and massacre, and they are now being tried by a court martial. many of them are being convicted and will be executed. among them, however, is no individual satisfying the description of the captor of your son thomas, as given to me by your elder son. i have, however, received information which leads me to believe that this man is a yanktonais from the region of the missouri river, who is known to have been consorting with the minnesota indians during the late outrages and who has since fled into dakota again. indian prisoners whom i have interviewed claim that he took with him a white boy, who, i have little doubt, is your son. the several prisoners with whom i have conversed all agree that the child appeared to be in good health when they saw him, though i have been able to gather nothing further concerning him. it is quite possible that his captor may weary of holding your son a prisoner during the coming winter and take him into one of the fur-trading posts along the missouri river. but, in case this should not happen, i may say to you that it is the present intention of the government to send strong expeditions against the hostile indians about devil's lake and along the missouri, next summer. i may be in command of one of the columns; but, whether i am or not, i beg to assure you that no efforts will be spared to effect the release of your son and his speedy restoration to you. nor is it at all probable that such a thorough campaign as is now contemplated will fail of the desired result, for it is the government's purpose to pursue the indians relentlessly until their last prisoner is recovered, until the last savage guilty of atrocities against the whites is given up to justice, and until the entire sioux nation is brought to submission. with renewed assurances of my deep sympathy and regret that i have no more satisfactory news for you at the present time, i beg to remain, my dear madam, very respectfully, your obedient servant, h. h. sibley, brig. gen., u. s. v. mrs. briscoe broke down completely on hearing this disappointing intelligence and could not be comforted for a long time. but the courageous spirit which had already carried her through so much finally reasserted itself; since there was nothing to do except endure the suspense, she resolved to endure it patiently and not depress the spirits of those around her with her own griefs. on his part al felt at first that he could not bear to spend more time in idle waiting while his brother remained a captive. it seemed to him that he must start out and do something. but reflection showed him that this desire, though natural, was futile. hard as the conclusion was, it seemed plain that the best thing was to trust general sibley and the soldiers with the problem, at least for the present and until the results of the next summer's campaign could be known. had he been old enough to enlist, al would undoubtedly have joined the army in spite of everything, in order to be at the front and share in the search for his brother. but as he would not be sixteen until the early spring of , that was out of the question. nevertheless, the atmosphere of the place and the time in which he was living were well calculated to develop in him the strong military inclinations of his nature, and as the months went on he found it more and more difficult to be satisfied with the work in which he was engaged. there was hardly an hour of the day in which squads or companies of troops did not pass along the busy streets of st. louis, and often full regiments, with bands playing and colors flying, or batteries of artillery rumbling over the cobble-stones, marched past on their way to the levee to embark on steamers for the seat of war in the south. st. louis was the great recruiting depot of the west, and at benton barracks, just beyond the fair grounds and only a few blocks from the colton home, as many as twenty thousand men were nearly always quartered, mustering, drilling, outfitting and then marching away to take their places in the fighting armies at the front. news of battle was constantly in the air and the war formed the chief topic of conversation always and everywhere. now it was the disastrous repulse of the army of the potomac at fredericksburg, virginia; then the terrible conflict at murfreesboro, tennessee; and then, a little later, the capture of fort hindman, at arkansas post, arkansas; while authentic news and uncertain rumors of other battles, skirmishes, and military movements circulated constantly. though st. louis was a union city by a very substantial majority there nevertheless existed there a strong though suppressed southern sentiment; but al was even less inclined to be influenced by it than his father would have been, or than he would have been himself before his father's death. the reason was that public opinion in the north and west at this time held that the outbreak of the indians in minnesota had been instigated and encouraged by agents from the southern confederacy, who hoped, by precipitating an indian war upon the northwest, not only to divert a good many union troops from the south but even possibly to effect a confederate conquest of the northwestern territories. happily for the fair fame of american civilization, it has in later years been quite clearly established that the confederates had nothing to do with inciting the barbarous outbreak, but at the time it was firmly believed in the northwest. therefore it seems but natural that a person in al's position, grieving for a father murdered and a brother carried away captive by the red fiends, should entertain bitterness toward those whom he believed to be largely responsible for his bereavement. this feeling but added to his interest in the military preparations of those who were going to fight the southerners, and increased his desire to be a partaker in their toils and trials and triumphs. when he found an opportunity to do so, as he did on sunday afternoons and his other infrequent holidays, he occasionally went down to the river front where were to be seen the big transport steamers, starting out loaded to the guards with troops or coming in with cargoes of sick and wounded men, and where, also, were generally to be found one or more of the pugnacious-looking iron-clad gunboats which had been and still were fighting their way foot by foot down the battery-lined rivers of the south, carrying the flag of the union into regions where it had been outcast for two years past. but more frequently his steps turned toward benton barracks, for there on the great parade ground between the huge barracks, each seven hundred and fifty feet in length, were always to be found swarms of troops at drill. here he would see a squad of four or eight recruits receiving from a corporal instructions in the rudiments of tactics, such as the salutes, the facings, or the manual of arms. a little further on would be a regiment executing ponderous evolutions in company or battalion front. observing all these tactical exercises with lively interest and careful attention, al soon began to comprehend the methods and objects of movements which at first seemed wholly bewildering. he obtained a copy of the "united states infantry and rifle tactics," the text book then in use for the instruction of the united states troops, and spent evening after evening studying them until he was much more familiar with the contents than the average volunteer soldier several years his senior. though he could not utilize his knowledge because of his youth, he persisted in acquiring it, not only because he liked it but because he felt that eventually it would be useful to him, especially if he could ever carry out his cherished ambition of entering west point. one day in the spring of , mr. white called al into his private office. "the chief commissary of subsistence in this city has asked me if i could tell him of a few good men to act as civilian clerks in his department," said he. "they must be men who understand something of staple groceries such as the army uses and who know how to get out orders and ship goods. would you like to have such a position for a while?" al's eyes brightened. such work would place him in closer touch with the army, an object which appealed to him strongly. but he bore in mind his obligations and answered, cautiously, "i should like it very much, mr. white, if you approve of it and if i could make as much as i do now." "the position will pay you a little more than you are getting now," said mr. white, leaning back in his chair as if to give plenty of time to the discussion, "and it will give you some valuable experience if you aim to continue in the wholesale grocery business. the commissary department is handling enormous quantities of goods in st. louis now and an insight into the government's methods of transacting such a volume of business will be a great benefit to you. of course, whenever you want to leave the government's employ and come back here, your position will be open for you. you are very young for such a place but you have made such rapid progress and learned to do your work so well and thoroughly that i shall have no hesitation in recommending you as one of my best employees." "thank you, sir," said al, flushing with pleasure. "i hope i deserve it." "you understand," mr. white continued, "i don't want you to leave me; but i owe it to the union to give her the best i have when she asks it. i am past middle age myself and i don't think i am worth enough as a soldier to volunteer yet; there are plenty of younger and stronger men still pouring in to fill up the armies. but if the war drags on and the time comes that i feel she needs my actual, physical services, i shall go. meantime, as i say, i shall give her the best i have in other ways, and you are part of that best. though you are not old enough to be a soldier, i know you will appreciate that your work as a civilian employee may be quite as valuable to the government as though you were enlisted in the service." "indeed i do, mr. white," answered al, "and i shall do my best to serve the union faithfully." in the new work upon which he entered next day al continued throughout that momentous summer and fall. though serving in a capacity both humble and obscure, he had his part in preparing and forwarding the supplies which enabled general grant to cut loose from his base, swing his army around to the rear of vicksburg, and two months later to capture that gibraltar of the mississippi with all its garrison and munitions of war. he helped to make ready the subsistence carried by grant's and sherman's armies when they went to the relief of chattanooga; and from the depots where he worked a constant stream of stores was always going forward to the thousands of union troops scattered in fortified posts and encampments or marching hither and thither all over the southwest fighting innumerable minor battles and skirmishes. but his daily occupation was very prosaic and needs no more than casual mention. at length, when autumn came again, another letter was received from general sibley. it was as disappointing as the one of the year before. he told briefly of the long summer's campaign in which he had marched westward from the minnesota river to the missouri, defeating the indians in three pitched battles and driving them across the missouri, and of the later advance of another column up the valley of the missouri, under general alfred sully, which had also encountered and defeated the indians. but neither column had rescued tommy, though they had heard rumors of his whereabouts and had gained a little new information concerning his captor. the latter, it now seemed clearly established, was an upper yanktonais warrior named te-o-kun-ko, or, in english, the swift. from the statements of hostile indians who had talked with friendlies or had surrendered to the troops during the campaign, it appeared that this man had not been with the main body of the indians during the summer; he had taken his family, in company with a small party of about a dozen other lodges, over into the country along the yellowstone and powder rivers, in idaho. they had probably spent the season in hunting and skirmishing occasionally with the crows, the powerful people occupying most of that region, who were hereditary enemies of the sioux. it must be understood that the great sioux nation consists of a number of different tribes, of which the upper yanktonais tribe is one, and the lower yanktonais another. it seemed that he still had with him the white boy whom he had captured in minnesota. the lad seemed perfectly contented and was displaying such aptitude and prowess in learning to ride, shoot, hunt, and perform the other feats of skill, agility, and hardihood which the indians regard as most manly, that te-o-kun-ko took great pride and delight in him and was evidently trying to wean him away from any longing for his white relatives, in the hope of eventually making him, to all practical intents, a full-fledged sioux warrior. general sibley added that in the spring of general sully would almost certainly lead another expedition up the missouri to fight the indians, though whether he himself would move against them again was doubtful. he renewed his regrets that he had been unable to recapture tommy, and his hopes that another year would surely see him restored to his family, and here the letter ended. mrs. briscoe and al were not only bitterly disappointed by the news; it positively stunned them. the idea that tommy could have been, all this time, anything but a suffering and wretchedly unhappy prisoner, was entirely new to them. that he could have grown not merely contented with his lot among the savages but even attached to it, a possibility very clearly suggested by general sibley's letter, seemed unbelievable, at least to mrs. briscoe. but al, on reflection, was not so much inclined to scoff at it as he had been at first. he remembered having heard of several cases in which white boys, taken captive by indians when so young that their affections and habits were not deeply rooted, had become so attached to the wild, free life of the red men that they voluntarily renounced civilization and remained all their lives with the people of their adoption. then he recalled the prominent characteristics of tommy's disposition,--his sturdy independence, his love for being out of doors, for handling horses and for hunting and trapping,--inclinations which he had not shown until their removal to minnesota but which had developed rapidly there, where tommy, in the midst of a solitude which was almost wilderness, had apparently been happier than ever before in his life. he recalled, also, the little boy's warm-hearted affection for his parents and for himself and annie; a trait of character which certainly seemed the strongest argument against the theory that tommy could grow to forget them. but al was obliged to admit to himself that the other impulses of his young brother's nature would all find gratification in the life of the plains; while, moreover, if he were kindly treated, even his affections might be kindled for the people with whom he was living. he had been with the indians now for more than a year, which is a long time in a young boy's life. the more he became convinced of such possibilities, the more was al disturbed and alarmed by them. it had been bad enough to think of his brother as a heart-broken captive, but to think of him as perhaps a future renegade, an apostate to his race, was far worse, for it added shame to sorrow. he could not bear to think of his mother having to face such a calamity. finally he took his troubled thoughts to his uncle, who was always kind, sympathetic and helpful. "i have been thinking a great deal about this matter, too, al," said mr. colton. "there is no question in my mind that tommy might take the course you speak of, if he should remain long enough with the indians. from the reports we have he seems to be well and even happy. the most important reason now for getting him away from them seems to be to remove him from their moral influence. but, incredible as it may seem, i really believe there may be a possibility that now; even if the soldiers should find him, he would be unwilling to come away with them." al looked at his uncle and slowly nodded his head in agreement. "yes, i believe that might be so," he answered. "and it seems to me, uncle will, for that very reason if no other, i ought to go with the next expedition; for if tommy should be found i know that when he saw me and i told him about mother and all of us, he would want to come back. but i can't go, that's all." "al," said mr. colton, "i agree with you that you ought to, and i think probably you can. since midsummer my business has begun to revive. people are commencing to see that the south is getting the worst of this war and there is a growing feeling of confidence that the union is going to be saved. therefore interest is reviving in business matters of all kinds, real estate among others. if the union is going to be preserved, st. louis will continue to be a great and growing city; nobody cared to speculate on what it would be while the success of the confederacy seemed probable. but, you see, i am beginning to have business again, and if our armies continue gaining such victories as they have been during the last six months, there will be more business by next spring. i wish to heaven i could go into the service and help to hasten the end; but this," he moved the stump of his left arm impatiently, "forever debars me from such service. but if i can help you to go where you may be able to assist in recovering your brother and at the same time to be perhaps of some service to our country, even though you are not old enough to enlist, i shall feel that i have done something. i think by spring i shall be able to take care of your mother and sister while you are gone and i shall be only too glad to do it." al's cheeks flushed with mingled surprise and pleasure. his sense of duty, however, was still uppermost. "but, uncle will,--" he began. "now, that's all right, al," interrupted mr. colton. "this is simply a family matter, and you need not worry about it at all. the only question which remains to be settled is whether it can be arranged for you to accompany an expedition into the indian country. if general sibley were going, no doubt he would be willing to find a place for you some way. but it seems that he may not go again, and another commander, like general sully, for instance, may not want to have you. however, we shall have to wait to settle that until we know more about actual plans for next season's campaign, and that probably will not be possible until late winter or early spring." mrs. briscoe at first found it very hard to reconcile herself to the plan, for she was divided between anxiety for tommy and apprehension lest harm should befall al if he went in search of his brother. but by pointing out to her that it was still uncertain whether the commander of the expedition would permit him to go at all, al, shrewdly aided by his uncle, induced her to give the subject calm consideration, being convinced that if she did so she would in time see that it was best. so the winter passed with little further discussion of the subject. al continued at his work, annie was attending school, and mrs. briscoe aided her sister with the duties of the household. indeed, the refugees from minnesota seemed to have become fixtures in the colton home, and, though all of them thought occasionally of their returning some time to the abandoned claim above fort ridgely, the time for doing so remained in the indefinite future. none of them could feel like attempting to resume the even tenor of their lives until tommy should have been brought back from his captivity. chapter vi on general sully's staff at last, early in march, the long uncertainty respecting the next season's campaign against the sioux, and the rumors which had circulated about it all through the winter, were terminated by the arrival in st. louis of general alfred sully, who, so the papers announced, had come to begin the accumulation of supplies and to make other preparations for his impending campaign. brigadier general sully was the commander of the district of iowa, with headquarters at davenport, in that state; but he had come to st. louis directly from milwaukee. there he had spent several days in consultation with general sibley and major general john pope, who was in command of the department of the northwest, embracing the districts of wisconsin, iowa, and minnesota, the latter under general sibley. general sully very soon made his presence known at the commissary office in st. louis by the requisitions for supplies which began to pour in from him. a few days later a young army officer, an _aide-de-camp_ on general sully's staff, was sent down to the office by the general to check over the requisitions already made. al was assigned to assist him. the aide, whose name was lieutenant dale, proved an agreeable youth, only a few years older than al, and after their work was finished they fell into conversation. al told him briefly of the disasters which had befallen his family in minnesota, and then of the battle at fort ridgely. "why, you've seen enough fighting to be a veteran already," exclaimed lieutenant dale, when al had concluded his narrative. "i'll tell you what you ought to do; you ought to go up into the sioux country with us this summer. we're going to have some fun up there. and maybe you could get on the track of your brother." "that is just what i want to do," answered al, "but i'm not old enough to enlist." "that makes no difference," answered dale. "the general could arrange to take you in some capacity or other if he knows that you have a good reason for wanting to go and that you won't lose your nerve in a pinch." "do you think he would?" asked al, doubtfully. "i think it's very probable. go and ask him. he is very kind-hearted, if he is a strict disciplinarian and a hard fighter." "he's a hard fighter, is he?" asked al, eagerly. "you see, i don't know much about him." lieutenant dale looked at him pityingly. "a hard fighter?" he replied. "i should say he is! he fought against the seminoles in florida and the rogue river indians in oregon and the sioux in minnesota and nebraska and the cheyennes in kansas, all before the beginning of the rebellion. he won honors at fair oaks and chancellorsville; and then, when the indian trouble in the northwest came, they sent him up into dakota to fight the sioux again, last summer. that was the first that i was with him, and we certainly had our share of marching, going up the missouri valley, and our share of fighting at white stone hill, where we swung away from the missouri and struck the redskins out on the prairie nearly over to the james river. they had been following up general sibley, never suspecting that we would come from the other direction and fall on their rear. but we'll punish them worse this year, for we shall have a much larger force; and the general intends to follow them until they are either forced to make peace or are broken up and scattered all over the country. and he can scatter them; what he doesn't know about indian fighting isn't worth knowing." "i'm sure it will be a campaign well worth taking part in," replied al. "i ought to go, and i hope i can." "i will speak to the general about you and the reason you have for wanting to accompany us," lieutenant dale said. "then you come and see him yourself to-morrow or as soon after as you can." al did not delay the visit. that evening he talked with his mother and uncle about it and, though the former was naturally reluctant to have him go where she felt he would be in danger, she had also come to realize that the arrangement afforded the best chance of recovering her lost son, tommy. mr. colton, after al had told him of his conversation with young lieutenant dale, concluded that it would be as well for al to interview general sully alone. "i do not know the general," said he, "and i could influence him but little; while, if you go by yourself, it will indicate more self-reliance on your part. i know, of course, that you have plenty of it, but a stranger naturally would not until he had become acquainted with you, and it is always well to make a good first impression. i think you were fortunate in meeting this lieutenant dale. he will probably speak favorably of you to general sully, and that will help your case." accordingly the next afternoon when his work for the day was finished, al hurried off to the place where general sully was making his headquarters while in the city. he found little evidence of pomp or ceremony about these headquarters. an orderly was in the outer room, to whom al told his name and errand. the soldier replied that the general was alone, writing letters; and then, stepping to the door of an adjoining room, he announced al by name. "bring him in," al heard a deep but pleasant voice answer, and the next moment he found himself standing, with a somewhat fluttered pulse, in the presence of general sully. the latter rose as he entered and extended his hand. "i have been expecting you, young man," said he, smiling. "lieutenant dale told me of you last evening, and i had also heard of you before from general sibley. i was on the watch for your brother all last summer but i couldn't get hold of him. have a chair," he went on, resuming his own seat and motioning al to another one. "now, what can i do for you?" as clearly and briefly as possible al related his reasons for thinking that he ought to go into the indian country to assist in the search for his brother, finishing with the request that he might be taken along in some capacity and adding that he would try to make himself useful. as he talked, he was conscious that the general was studying him critically through the pair of deep-set eyes which, though penetrating, were not forbidding. when he had concluded, the general did not reply at once. instead, he remarked, after a pause, "general sibley told me he understood that your father was one of doniphan's men. is that correct?" unconsciously al's shoulders straightened a little. "yes, sir," he replied, a touch of pride in his voice, "he was. i am named for colonel doniphan,--alexander doniphan briscoe." "indeed?" said the general, with evident surprise and interest. he was silent a moment, then asked abruptly, "do you know anything about tactics,--military routine,--discipline?" "i have been a clerk in the commissary department here for a year, sir," al replied, "and have become pretty familiar with the government's methods of handling stores and more or less so with other matters of administration. then i have studied tactics pretty hard, both in the book and in watching the troops at drill out at benton barracks." "h-m! that's good." the general's voice became decisive. "if you should go with me you would have to become a part of the expedition and submit to discipline the same as a soldier, even though you are not enlisted; and i understand you are too young to enlist. i can have no favored idlers around. we are going after the indians and for no other purpose, and in order to be successful every individual must do his part. do you think you could agree to do that?" "i shall certainly obey orders and try to make myself useful," responded al, promptly. general sully swung around in his swivel desk chair and gazed abstractedly out of the window for a moment. then he swung back again and looked at al frankly. "i may as well tell you," said he, "that it is against my policy to have any more civilians with me in the field than i can possibly help. too many civilians mixed up in military affairs have nearly been the ruination of the united states during this rebellion. at the same time, i like to have young fellows of the right metal; they are often more useful than old stagers. and i believe you'll do. a son of one of doniphan's daredevils, especially a namesake of his, ought to be all right for courage; and moreover, general sibley told me of the reports he heard of your conduct at fort ridgely. you see, i know more about you than you thought." he smiled at al's embarrassed glance. "i'll find a place for you somewhere, as a commissary's or quartermaster's clerk, probably. come and see me again to-morrow or next day and i'll have it arranged." al thanked him heartily and went away, feeling already a warm admiration for this firm but courteous soldier. the interview aroused in him more pleasurable anticipation of the expedition than he had felt heretofore, and he found himself preparing for it and looking forward to it enthusiastically. true to his promise, general sully had a position arranged for him when he called next day, and one, moreover, upon whose duties he could enter at once. he quitted his work as clerk of the st. louis commissary office only to continue it in the same place as a clerk for the chief commissary officer of the northwestern indian expedition. knowing that he was to be with them, general sully's staff officers took an immediate interest in him, especially lieutenant dale, whose friendship proved not only increasingly pleasant but very helpful as well. dale was able to give al many suggestions as to how best to meet the problems and situations which constantly arose in his position. there was also a captain feilner, who treated him with much kindness. he was an officer of german birth who had risen to his position from the ranks of the regular army and was now general sully's chief topographical engineer. for six weeks every one in st. louis connected with the expedition was busily occupied in getting supplies together and in shipping several hundred tons of foodstuffs, clothing, camp equipage, and ammunition on steamboats which were going up the missouri on the spring high water to fort benton, montana, the outfitting point for the newly discovered gold district in that territory. these goods were consigned to fort union, the chief trading post of the american fur company, at the mouth of the yellowstone river, where a depot was to be established so as to have supplies ready for the troops when they should reach that point, as it was planned they should do, after marching overland from the missouri to the yellowstone. many hundreds of tons more were loaded on the eight steamers which general sully had chartered for the exclusive use of his army, and on them were carried also a great quantity of building materials for use in the two forts which were to be erected, one on the upper missouri and one on the yellowstone. few troops were to start with the fleet from st. louis, because general sully's men were either scattered in the several forts and cantonments along the river in dakota where they had spent the winter, or were to meet the boats at the village of sioux city, iowa; while a large column from general sibley's command was marching from minnesota straight across the high prairies of dakota to join the rest of the expedition at bois cache creek, nearly opposite the mouth of the moreau river. chapter vii up the missouri on the last day of april the long preparations were finally completed. the eight steamers lay along the levee with flags floating from their forward peaks and the black smoke pouring from their funnels. a great crowd had gathered on the river bank to watch the departure; and while drays and wagons rattled over the cobblestones and long lines of negro roustabouts ran back and forth across the gang-planks of the steamers, carrying on board the last packages of freight, al stood at the boiler deck rail of the _island city_, general sully's headquarters boat. he waved his hand and smiled, more cheerfully than he felt at that moment, to his mother and annie and uncle will, who stood in the wide doorway of the wharf-boat below, looking up at him. now that the final moment had come, mrs. briscoe's heart was torn at parting with her boy, who had so loyally and unselfishly devoted himself to her wellbeing since her husband's death. but she bore it as bravely as a good mother always bears such trials, smiling brightly at him through her tears as the head-lines were slipped from the _island city's_ bow and her great stern wheel began slowly to revolve. al, his own eyes misty, watched his mother until in the distance she became blurred with the crowd. the steamer swung gracefully out into the swift current of the mississippi, described a wide, sweeping curve to the middle of the channel, and then, rounding up stream at the head of the majestic line of her consorts, forged up past the smoky city on the first mile of the long journey into the northwestern wilderness. until the cheering crowd on the levee was quite blotted out by distance and intervening steamers along the bank, al stood at the rail looking back. when at last he turned away, with a strange feeling of depression and loneliness, he found lieutenant dale standing behind him. "come, boy," said he, slapping al's shoulder, "brace up! we are going to have a great time this summer, and you'll be mighty glad you came. i know it's hard leaving your folks. i felt just the same way less than three years ago when i marched off from home to washington and the first bull run. but it does no good to feel blue over it; you'll come back again all right, anyway. get busy; that's the best remedy for blues. are those last goods that were brought on board checked up yet? no? well, you better go down and check them, hadn't you?" al acted on the suggestion, and by the time he was through, the fleet had entered the mouth of the missouri and was approaching st. charles, a picturesque little old city straggling up over the rugged, wooded hills on the north bank of the missouri. the boats did not stop at the town, but continued running until nearly dark, when they laid up for the night at penn's woodyard, four miles above. excepting in high water, when the channel is broad and deep, it is very unusual for boats to run at night on the missouri owing to the danger of striking snags or going aground on sandbars. next morning, after replenishing their fuel supply at the woodyard, they started at daylight and ran without mishap or halt, excepting to take on wood several times, until dusk found them just below the mouth of the gasconade river, where they again tied up to wait for daylight. in the spring of there had been little rain in the missouri valley, and the river was very low for the season, a fact which greatly disturbed general sully; he foresaw that the trip would probably be painfully slow and that he would not be able to reach the indian country until so late that the campaign would have to be a hurried one. early next morning, at the mouth of the gasconade, they encountered the first of the obstacles which they had been dreading. as is usual below the mouths of tributaries, where the eddy created by the muddy current of the main river coming in contact with that of the tributary causes the mud and sand to sink to the bottom, a sandbar here extended across the missouri's channel. the _island city_, in the lead and running near the south shore along the base of the bluffs, notwithstanding the caution of her pilot, stuck her bow into it and stopped short. al, who was in the main cabin, ran forward as he felt the boat shiver and careen and looked down over the bow. "why, we've stuck fast!" he exclaimed to captain feilner, whom he found standing by the rail. "what will they do now?" "send out a boat and sound for a passage," the captain answered. even as he spoke, alexander lamont,--or, alex lamont, as he was usually called,--the tall, bronzed captain of the _island city_, leaned out over the rail and shouted up to the hurricane deck above, "lower away the yawl, there! step lively, now!" they heard the shuffle of feet on the sanded tar roof overhead, the creak of falls and tackles, and in a moment the boat, its long oars manned by six stalwart deck hands and carrying, besides, a steersman at the stern and a leadsman with a sounding pole at the bow, pulled around the side of the steamer and out into the shoal water ahead. meanwhile, the long line of steamers behind them also came to a stop. "how much water must there be for us to get through?" asked al. "we are drawing three and a half feet," answered captain feilner, "and we ought to have four feet to go on, but we can do it on three and a half by sparring or warping. have you never seen those things done? well, you will probably have a chance in a few minutes,--and plenty more before we are through with this trip. some of the other steamers do not draw quite as much as we do but none of them seem to be going to try to pass us." the yawl gradually worked its way diagonally across and down the river, following the crest of the bar, until it had approached quite near to the north bank, the leadsman constantly thrusting his pole down to the river bottom. then the boat suddenly turned around and came rapidly back to the _island city_. "there's three and a half, large, over there," said the pilot who had acted as leadsman as he came aboard, speaking to captain lamont. "we can go over but you'll likely have to set spars." he ascended to the pilot-house and jerked the whistle rope. a warning bellow roared out over the river, re-echoing from the forest-clad bluffs on either side. one by one the steamboats behind them took up the refrain, until the noise resembled that of a manufacturing city at the noon hour. "what on earth is all that whistling for?" asked al. "are they trying to scare the bar out of the river?" "no," laughed captain feilner. "that is a signal that we are going to back up. there isn't room to turn in this channel and all the others must back up, too, so that we won't run into each other." the fleet backed for a half mile, then the _island city_ reversed her wheel and started up again, running this time, however, close in by the north shore. as she went ahead the strokes of her pistons became more and more rapid until, as she approached the crossing, she was going at a great speed for a steamboat. "he's going to try to belt her through," exclaimed lieutenant dale, coming up at this moment. "we'll get a jolt. i hope nothing breaks." hardly had he finished speaking when there came a loud grating sound from the bow as the boat's flat bottom began to scrape over the sand. her timbers quivered and groaned, her speed diminished so quickly that those who were standing on her decks were nearly thrown down, and then, after scraping along for a few feet slowly and painfully she came to a full stop. for a moment the stern wheel continued to churn the water into white foam; then the pilot, with an impatient gesture, jerked the wire to the stopping-bell down in the engine room, and the ponderous wheel came to a halt. "no use," he cried to captain lamont, leaning out of the pilot-house window. "she's nearly over but you'll have to set the spars!" there was a great shouting and commotion on the lower deck as the spars, two long, heavy timbers like telegraph poles, one on each side of the bow, were swung out and erected in position, their lower extremities resting on the river bottom, the upper, fitted with tackle blocks, rising high above the level of the boat's top deck. through the tackle blocks ran heavy cables fastened at one end to the boat's gunwale and at the other to the steam capstan. when the spars had been set, the capstan began to revolve, winding up the cable and thus hoisting the bow of the boat until it hung suspended on the spars. at the same time the wheel was slowly revolved, forcing the boat ahead until the spars had tilted forward so far as to let the bow down again into the sand. then they were dragged forward and set upright once more, and the process was repeated. before a great while the crest of the bar was passed, and the _island city_ floated on into deeper water and continued her journey. but though it had not been what river men would consider a hard crossing, she had lost nearly six hours in sounding and sparring, and it was noon by the time she had left the gasconade out of sight behind her. the vessels following her each forced its way across the bar in the same manner as she had done, excepting the _chippewa falls_ and the _alone_, boats of smaller dimensions and lighter draft, which were able to slip over without sparring. by the time the last one had passed the gasconade, it was evening again, and the fleet was strung out for miles up the river. the _island city_ anchored out for the night to a bar just below kate howard chute, so called for a beautiful packet of that name which had sunk there in . the point was only thirty miles above the gasconade, so that twenty-four hours had been consumed in covering that insignificant distance. the _island city_ was towing a large barge, intended for use when they should reach the indian country, but it was very much in the way and retarded her progress considerably. that evening al asked captain lamont how far it was from st. louis to the mouth of cannonball river, dakota, where it was expected that the actual campaign against the indians would begin, and was told that it was about fourteen hundred miles. he did some figuring and found that if they continued to progress at the same rate as they had done that day it would be more than six weeks, or past the middle of june, before they would reach their destination. it seemed an astonishingly long time to him but, as the event proved, he had considerably overestimated the average speed which the fleet could maintain. for days they continued travelling through the state of missouri, contending with sandbars and head winds. the interior of the state was in a deplorable condition as a result of the war. guerillas were overrunning it everywhere, and the boats rarely landed at a town without hearing either that some of the marauders had just left on the approach of the fleet or that they had been raiding there a day or two before. general sully's vessels were so numerous and well armed that the guerillas did not dare attack them. all missouri river boats at that time were more or less fortified around the pilot-house with timber or boiler-iron bulwarks, to protect the pilots from the bullets of guerillas on the lower river and from those of indians in the upper country, while the piles of cordwood on the main deck afforded some protection to the men there. yet the fleet seldom passed a downward-bound boat which had not been fired into or boarded, and fortunate was the vessel which had escaped without the loss of one or more people on board killed or wounded. there were plenty of men in the expedition who would have been glad to encourage such attacks had they been made, for, as was always the case among the class of men who worked as laborers on the steamboats, there were many hardened and even desperate characters in the crews of sully's vessels. not a few of them were deserters from the confederate army, tired of fighting but still rebels at heart; and others were southern sympathizers, fleeing from the draft in the northern states. most of these men hoped, when they should draw near to montana, to find opportunities for slipping away from the expedition and making their way to the gold fields which were just being opened in the placer deposits around bannack, last chance gulch, alder gulch and other places, and which were attracting a wild rush of adventurers from all over the country. such men were naturally hard to handle and it took steamboat officers of firmness and courage to keep them in control. since the beginning of the voyage al had not had much occasion to mingle with the crew of the _island city_. the cargo of the steamboat consisted chiefly of corn for the use of the cavalry horses in the indian country and, once it was on board, required little attention. he therefore seldom had any reason for going to the lower deck except to while away the time, which, indeed, was the principal occupation of the army officers on board. as might naturally be supposed, he was usually with some of them. but one day he was standing on the main deck near the boilers when one of the deck hands, a young fellow a few years older than himself, came by carrying a couple of heavy sticks of cordwood to the furnaces. al had once or twice in the past noticed this fellow staring at him in a disagreeable way and felt instinctively that it must be because the deck hand was envious of the apparently easy and pleasant time which he was having. al's back was turned toward him and neither saw the other until one of the sticks collided heavily with al's shoulder, almost throwing him down. al turned and though bruised, was on the point of apologizing for being in the way, when the fellow, an ugly, red flush overspreading his face, shouted, with a plentiful sprinkling of oaths between his words, "get out of my road, you little yankee snipe! what are you loafing around here for, anyhow?" "i'm sorry i got in your way," replied al, controlling his temper, "but i didn't see you." "well, you'd better stay upstairs with your blue-bellied yankee officers. they oughtn't to let their little pet run around this way." hearing loud words, several other deck hands gathered round, grinning at the excitement, their sympathies evidently with their companion. "as for my being down here," al answered, feeling that it would not do to let such language pass unnoticed, especially before the other men, "i have as much business here as you have. as for being a yankee, i suppose everybody on a united states ship is a yankee. if they're not, they'd better go ashore." "it would take a mighty big lot of such spindle-legged doll babies as you to put me ashore," shouted the young ruffian, flinging down his wood and advancing on al with clenched fists. "down south we don't use anything but boats we've kicked the yankees off of." several of the other deck hands crowded closer, exclaiming, "aw, let the kid alone, jimmy. he ain't done nothin' to you." "look out, jimmy; you'll get in trouble, talkin' that way." "so you're a rebel deserter, are you?" asked al, his eyes flashing. "i thought so. if you're so much attached to them, why didn't you stay down there and take some more yankee boats?" the fellow, quite beside himself with rage, did not wait to reply but sprang at al like a bull-dog. al knew little about boxing, but he was quick. as his assailant rushed at him, he jumped forward and planted one fist with all his strength on the point of the fellow's chin. the rowdy's feet flew from under him and he fell to the deck with a heavy thud, completely dazed for a moment. then he scrambled to his feet with a string of imprecations pouring from his lips, and jerking an ugly, broad-bladed knife from a sheath on his belt, again leaped at al. seeing his intention, his companions rushed forward to stop him, but al had snatched up a stoking iron from the floor beside him and swung it back over his shoulder. his face was pale, but not with fright, and as his assailant looked into his steady eyes something in them caused him suddenly to lower his knife and hesitate. "come one step nearer and i'll brain you," said al, his voice very low and quiet. "you miserable, cowardly bully, attacking a fellow who is unarmed and who has done nothing to you. now, if you want to stay on this boat you've got to quit that kind of talk about yankees or i'll see that you are put off. it's very plain you are a rebel and you've no business getting your living under the protection of the union as long as you feel that way. next time you want to try anything with me i shall be ready for you, and i warn you, you won't get off so easily again." he threw down the stoking iron and, turning his back on the crest-fallen rowdy, deliberately walked away, followed by ejaculations from the group of onlookers such as, "bully boy!" "served him right." "you're all right, kid!" later in the day he mentioned the occurrence to lieutenant dale and captain feilner, who promptly wished to have the deck hand put ashore. "not on my account, unless he does some more secesh talking," said al. "i can take care of myself with him. besides, it may be a good lesson for him and teach him to be decent after this." the fellow, as it turned out, had been pretty thoroughly beaten and he made no more trouble for al during the voyage, though he always gave him an ugly look when they chanced to meet. lieutenant dale decided from the incident that al ought to learn the art of boxing, in which he himself was quite expert, having learned it in college. so thereafter they spent an hour or so every day in sparring. by the time the voyage was over, al had become as skilful as his instructor, and general sully, captain feilner and the other officers often gathered to watch their bouts and to encourage them to greater efforts. at glasgow, his old home, al had an opportunity to go ashore for a short time and he was astonished and grieved to note the changes which three short years had wrought in the familiar old town. the levee was deserted save by a few indolent loafers who, without recognizing him, stared at him suspiciously as he went past; for in that terror-haunted country, fear and suspicion of everybody and everything had become the habit of the people. climbing the hill to the main part of town, he found grass growing in the once bustling business streets and many buildings locked and vacant. his father's old store was among them, closed as he had left it. he saw no familiar faces; most of the men and boys he had known were off in one of the armies, confederate or union, and the women were not often venturing from their houses in such times. in the residence section the scene was still worse. house after house stood deserted and going to decay. with slow steps al went on to the place which had been the home of his family in the dear old days when they were happy and prosperous. the gate was fallen from the hinges, weeds were growing thickly over the gravel walks, several panes of glass were broken out of the windows, and a loose shutter creaked dolefully in the wind. he rested his hand on a weather-beaten fence picket and gazed out into the garden he remembered so well, where he and tommy and annie had played; and beyond that into the orchard, where the summer apples used to grow so large and red and juicy. the cords of his throat tightened and a mist swam before his eyes. weeds and grass and broken limbs strewed the ground; silence and desolation were everywhere. he turned away abruptly and hastened back to the levee, never stopping until he was once more on the boiler deck of the _island city_, where general sully and several other officers were smoking and playing cards. it seemed to him as if a ghost were following him, the ghost of dead days, so tenderly remembered that the thought of them was unendurable, and for the time being he wanted only to plunge into the present and forget. chapter viii prairie marching it would take a volume to recount all the interesting experiences which befell al and his companions on the long trip to fort sully, dakota, where the greater part of general sully's troops had wintered; but, as they contributed nothing of moment to the narrative which we are following, they must be passed by. the fleet reached kansas city, then a small but rapidly growing frontier town, nearly three weeks after leaving st. louis, a journey which is now accomplished by rail in seven or eight hours. at omaha the _island city_ left the barge which had been dragging at her stern all the way from st. louis, as it was such an impediment that she could no longer handle it in the extremely low stage of the water. on may the fleet reached sioux city, where some troops were taken on board, as were still more at fort randall, twelve days later. about june they arrived at fort sully and here the long steamboat journey came to an end so far as the general and his staff were concerned, as here they left the boat to march with the column of troops up the eastern side of the missouri. though he expected to see them frequently again during the summer, al regretted leaving the officers and pilots of the _island city_, especially captain lamont, to whom he had become quite attached. after his encounter with the deck hand, jim, the captain had shown a liking for him and during many idle hours had done much toward initiating him into the fascinating mysteries of steamboating. the fleet itself was going on up the river with the cargoes, keeping as nearly as possible abreast of the column. it was a great relief to be on shore again and able to ride a galloping horse and to move about freely, after the long confinement to the narrow limits of the boat. for two or three days after the arrival of the fleet, fort sully presented a very animated appearance. here were assembled about half of the troops which were to make up the expedition into the hostile country: the sixth iowa cavalry under colonel pollock; three companies of the seventh iowa cavalry under lieutenant-colonel pattee; brackett's battalion of minnesota cavalry under major brackett, which had marched overland from fort snelling to sioux city and thence to fort sully; and two companies of dakota cavalry under captain miner. all these soldiers, over one thousand in number, constituting the first brigade of general sully's army, were quartered in the barracks of the fort or encamped close around the stockade. the buildings of the fort, which were similar to most of those built on the northwestern frontier, were of large, unhewn cottonwood logs; and the stockade, about two hundred and seventy feet square, was made of cedar pickets rising twelve feet above the ground, loop-holed for musketry and flanked by two bastions, one on the northeastern and one on the southwestern corner, containing cannon to sweep the faces of the stockade. it had been built by general sully's troops, many of whom were still there, at the close of the campaign in . a short distance out from the fort were several hundred lodges of indians, recently hostile, but who, wearying of the struggle, had come in to tender their submission to general sully. al, through interpreters, made eager inquiry among them for news of tommy, but could learn nothing. the indians, who were of several different tribes of the sioux nation: yanktonais, brules, two kettles, minneconjoux, sans arcs, uncpapas, and also blackfeet, reported that the hostiles were gathered in one immense camp of some eighteen hundred lodges, or about six thousand warriors, three days' march west of the missouri on the headwaters of heart river, and that they were eager for a fight. after a few days spent at the fort in organizing and refitting the troops, shoeing the horses and mules, repairing harness, and loading supplies for immediate use into the train of nearly one hundred wagons which was to accompany the column, the latter moved out on its northward march on the twenty-third of june. now began days which were full of novel experiences for al. though he had to spend a good deal of time with the wagon train, aiding lieutenant bacon, the acting assistant quartermaster, in issuing and caring for the supplies, he found many hours each day to ride at the head of the column with the general and his staff, who usually marched there. the weather was generally warm, and the vast, seemingly boundless prairie was parched with drought. the new grass was sparse and dry and hidden under the dead, brown bunches of last year's blue joint and buffalo grass, so that the troops and wagon train usually marched in a cloud of dust which, rising from the feet of the hundreds of trampling animals, was visible for many miles through the clear air of that high plateau country. they knew that indian scouts were all about them, closely observing their progress, but the red men seldom showed themselves, and one unfamiliar with their ways might easily have believed that there were no enemies near. game, such as buffalo and antelope, could often be seen in the distance and it was a sore temptation to many of the men to see them and not give pursuit. indeed, sometimes a party would sally out after a buffalo; but unless the party was strong, it was always against the advice of the old campaigners, especially the officers and men of the dakota cavalry, who had been hunting and fighting indians all over the southern part of their vast territory ever since the summer of . these men, recruited among the fearless and adventurous pioneers who had first settled in dakota a few years before, had been dubbed "the coyotes" by their companions in arms because of the speed and skill with which they could march and manoeuvre against their wily foes; and it was from them that south dakota in later years derived its familiar nickname, "the coyote state." general sully had such confidence in the coyotes that he treated them in some degree as his headquarters escort. their place on the march was usually near him, and if any piece of work was to be done of an especially important or daring character, he generally called upon the coyotes to perform it. lieutenant bacon, whom general sully had appointed acting assistant quartermaster, was an officer of the dakota cavalry; and as his assistant al soon found himself on terms of easy familiarity with the entire gallant command. this was especially true after he had one day dashed out with a party of them after a small herd of buffalo which came in view as they topped a rise, a little more than a mile in advance. a dozen of the dakota cavalrymen put spurs to their horses and galloped after the enticing game, and al and captain feilner joined them. al's horse was a sturdy animal, smaller than captain feilner's but long-winded. when they had ridden two or three miles, gradually gaining on their game, the herd suddenly divided at a dry slough bed in the prairie, part keeping on north and part turning east. most of the cavalrymen turned to follow the buffalo which had swung east, but two or three, with captain feilner and al, galloped on after the others. one of the troopers, a tall, slim young fellow wearing the chevrons of a corporal, who rode his long-legged black horse like an indian, gradually drew ahead of the rest as they came nearer and nearer to the game, until finally he brought himself abreast of the herd. handling his horse with the greatest skill, he worked in alongside of the largest buffalo bull. then, drawing his short sharp's carbine, he leaned over, brought the muzzle near to the animal's fore shoulder and fired. the buffalo ran on for thirty or forty feet, then stumbled, fell, rose again and, after staggering a short distance, fell once more and for the last time. the corporal, calmly slipping his carbine back into its boot, rode up to the dead buffalo and began cutting away the choicest portions of it to carry back to the command. meantime al and captain feilner galloped on, some distance behind the corporal. but the captain's horse was becoming badly winded and at last he swung off to one side and took a long distance shot, without result. al, though his horse, too, was beginning to show some signs of weariness, kept on until about fifty yards from the flank and rear of the herd when, not wishing to exhaust his horse, he decided to take his chance on a long shot. he accordingly pulled up and, taking hasty aim with the long spencer rifle he was carrying, fired at the nearest animal he could see through the dust. then he lowered his rifle and looked, but the buffalo seemed to be running as fast and as steadily as ever. he was about to turn back, disappointed, to join captain feilner, when he heard the corporal, a little way behind, shouting at him, "you hit her! you hit her! keep going; use your revolver!" somewhat doubtful, al urged his horse again to a gallop and kept on after the herd, captain feilner and the corporal following him. but, true enough, before he had covered a quarter of a mile he saw the animal he had fired at begin to drop behind the others. in another quarter of a mile he had overtaken it. it proved to be a good sized cow, which, as he approached, stopped and turned upon him with lowered head, frothing mouth and angry eyes. he drew his revolver, the one that had belonged to his father and that he had used at fort ridgely, and cautiously urged his frightened horse toward the cow. as he came within twenty-five or thirty feet, she charged at him, but he spurred his horse forward and as she passed behind him, he fired at her eye. it was a lucky shot, for she rolled over like a log and lay still. in a moment captain feilner and the corporal rode up, the latter's saddle already loaded with thirty or forty pounds of choice meat cut from his own quarry. he dismounted and walked up to al. [illustration: she charged at him as he fired] "that was a fine shot at the distance," said he. "i didn't think you would make a hit. and you finished her in good shape. do you know where to cut off the best pieces for eating?" "no, i don't," replied al. "i never killed one before." "let me show you," said the other, drawing out his knife, "so that you'll know next time." "what is your name?" asked al, as they worked, handing up the pieces to the captain, who tied them to his own and al's saddles. "you must be a veteran at it, the way you knocked over that big fellow." "oh, i've killed a few of them," answered the cavalryman, modestly. "it isn't much of a trick when you know how. my name is charles wright, corporal in company a, first dakota cavalry." they were soon riding back to the column with the welcome supply of fresh meat, joining on the way the members of the other party, who had killed three buffalo of the bunch they had followed. on arriving at the column they were soundly berated by general sully for their temerity in venturing so far; for if a party of indians of any size had cut in between them and the main body they might easily have all been killed. captain feilner, who, being an engineer and also, incidentally, a naturalist, was fond of wandering aside from the line of march to examine the country, laughed incredulously at the general's misgivings. "general, i do not believe there are enough indians within one hundred miles to endanger the number of us who went out there," said he. "well, there are," replied general sully, positively, "don't make any mistake about that. and if you're not more careful, feilner, you'll get your scalp lifted some day on one of your foolhardy side trips after buffalo or rocks or petrified beetles. as for you, briscoe," he continued, addressing al, "if you want to die young, just keep on following those coyotes wherever they lead." with a grim smile, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the dusty squadron just behind them, who at the moment were welcoming corporal wright and his meat-laden companions with yells and whoops of delight. "those fellows are the most reckless devils in the northwest and they'll get you into more tight holes than you can get out of unless you're as bad as they are." al felt that this was the highest compliment possible to the dakota boys and so, indeed, general sully meant it to be. that night at supper in the bivouac the staff and the coyotes, at least, fared sumptuously, with hot and tender buffalo steaks to go with their hardtack, fried potatoes and coffee. it was several days after the buffalo hunt, on june , to be exact, that the command broke camp at daylight and marched forward toward the crossing of the little cheyenne river. the troops marched in two columns, as usual, the supply train being in the centre between them, while the dakota cavalry rode a short distance in advance. their commander, captain nelson miner, was that day acting field officer of the day, having charge of the guard details. as the day wore on it became hot and sultry and the dust suffocating. every one was suffering with thirst and finally, as they approached within a few miles of the cheyenne, captain feilner decided to ride ahead to that stream in search of water. two soldiers from one of the commands in the main column volunteered to accompany him. al was working over his books in one of the wagons of the train when the captain rode past and called out to him, "i am going on to the little cheyenne to get a drink. do you want to go with me?" "i should like to," al called back, "but i'm busy now. look out for indians." "oh, yes," replied the captain, smiling, "there are three of us. i guess we can force a passage against all the indians we shall see." he waved his hand and disappeared through the dust up the column, the two soldiers trotting hard after him. al resumed his work and in a moment forgot all about captain feilner. when he had finished he mounted his horse and rode up to the head of the column where he fell in with the rest of the staff around general sully. they had been riding along in leisurely fashion for some time, their weary horses walking with drooping heads, the riders lolling in their saddles, when al's glance, wandering aimlessly over the desolate landscape ahead, was arrested by two small dots which suddenly appeared on the top of a prairie ridge far in front and came racing down the exposed slope in the direction of the column. something in their appearance made his heart jump into his throat. instinctively he reached out and touched the arm of general sully, who was talking to lieutenant dale. "general," he cried, pointing ahead. "look there! what are those specks?" the general, startled, glanced in the direction indicated. his expression changed to one of dismay. "by god," he exclaimed, snatching out his field-glasses, "something's happened over there; there are only two of them. feilner's got in trouble; i knew he would." he touched his horse and started forward at a trot, his staff following. the riders, coming at a furious pace, soon reached them. they were the two soldiers who had ridden ahead with the captain, hatless and without arms, their horses panting with the frantic pace they had been making. the leading trooper jerked up in front of the general and, saluting, cried breathlessly, "captain feilner is killed, general!" general sully slapped his field-glasses back into their case and clenched his fist with an enraged gesture. "i knew it," he growled, savagely. "the best officer i had. curse these infernal redskins!" it must be admitted that at such moments general sully did not hesitate to use stronger language than is allowable in print. "where was he killed?" "at the crossing of the cheyenne, sir. he's lying there now." "how did it happen?" "why, when we reached there, sir, the captain got off his horse and went down the bank,--it's steep where we were,--and got a drink, while we held his horse. then we dismounted and went down, leaving our horses and carbines with him. he was sitting under a little tree. while we were down by the creek we heard a rifle shot and looked up and saw three injuns riding up toward our horses. there is good grass in the bottom and we'd picketed them, but they got scared and pulled the picket-pins and ran off before the redskins got them. we could see the captain lying there but we didn't have our guns so all we could do was to hide out till the injuns rode off north across the creek. then we ran after our horses and came back." "three indians, you say? and they rode north?" questioned the general, sharply. "yes, sir." sully put his horse to the gallop and rode swiftly toward the head of the approaching column. as he reached captain miner, he pulled up. "captain," he cried, "three indians have killed captain feilner at the crossing of the little cheyenne, just ahead of us here. they rode north, across the creek. take company a and follow the cowardly assassins and bring them to me, dead or alive; mind you, dead or alive!" "feilner killed!" exclaimed captain miner. "the dirty scoundrels!" he swung his horse so sharply that it reared, and dashed back along the column of company a until he reached first sergeant a. m. english, who was in command. "sergeant," he cried, in ringing tones which every eagerly listening man in the company could hear, "captain feilner has been killed, and we are ordered to pursue the indians!" then he galloped back to the head of the column and, rising in his stirrups, shouted, "column left, march! company, trot! gallop! follow me, boys!" with a rising thunder of hoofs and a swirling dust cloud behind them, through which the glint of carbines, sabres, and accoutrements flashed in the sunshine, the cavalry swept over the hill in front and away. the general rode hotly after them to the crest and watched them streaming through the depression and up the slopes beyond. then he laughed grimly. "see the d--n coyotes," he exclaimed. "they go like a flock of sheep! they'll kill their horses before they catch the redskins. ride after them and tell miner to take it easy." al, who ever since hearing the distressing news had been quivering with impotent rage over the cruel fate of his good friend, captain feilner, caught the general's last words. he turned with a swift salute, even as he put spurs to his horse. "i'll tell him, general!" he cried, and rode away like the wind. "here, you!" cried the general, "come back!" but al did not want to hear. "oh, let him go," sully added, in a lower tone, "i reckon he's a coyote himself," and he chuckled as he saw al put his horse over a gully at the bottom of the hill and tear up the opposite rise close on the heels of the last ragged end of the racing dakota cavalry. chapter ix the revenge of the coyotes as he gained the top of the rise, al saw a confused and scattered array of horsemen just ahead of him, all going at a sharp gallop with no attempt at formation, the men leaning forward in their saddles as if riding to the finish of a hard race. he understood that it was a foolish pace for what would probably prove a long pursuit, but nothing could be done to slacken it until he could overtake captain miner, who was at the very head of the company. al and every one else had been very much surprised at the impetuous manner in which captain miner had started out, for though brave as a lion, he was usually very deliberate in movement and gentle of speech and his voice had a plaintive, appealing tone which often contrasted oddly with the orders he was giving. altogether, his dashing and devoted followers often found much to amuse them in the ways of their mild commander. that he had been profoundly moved by the death of captain feilner was evident; otherwise he would never have urged his little roan mare to a gallop, for his habit was to ride her at an ambling trot, even in the most exciting and dangerous situations. al hurried his own wiry little horse to greater exertions and began forging to the front. before long he left all except the leaders behind and as they went over the hill and down into the valley of the cheyenne, he was almost up to captain miner. the latter's face was set steadily to the front, however, as he scanned the country ahead for sight of the fugitive indians, and al could not attract his attention until he had overtaken him, almost on the bank of the creek. then he shouted, "captain miner! captain miner!" the captain turned and drew in his horse. "well?" he inquired, lifting his eyebrows slightly, "what is it?" it was plain he had recovered his composure, for his voice was placid. "general sully's compliments, sir, and he suggests that you take it a little slower, as the horses may be exhausted before you can catch the indians," answered al. captain miner pulled at his beard thoughtfully. "oh, pshaw!" he said, a disapproving note in his voice, "i wonder how we are to catch them if we don't keep going?" "i don't know, sir," replied al, as side by side they rode their horses into the creek, "but that was what the general told me to say to you." the stream was shallow and narrow but its banks were composed of deep, swampy mud through which their horses floundered and plunged, knee deep. above and below them soldiers of the coyotes were coming at the stream, some clearing it in a bound, where the banks were solid enough for a jump, while others became so deeply mired that they could not get out again until the rest of the command had passed from sight beyond. just as al's and the captain's horses waded out of the creek and came up, snorting, on the opposite bank, they heard some of the men already across, shouting, "there are the indians! over there!" at this moment a headquarters orderly galloped into sight and halted beside the captain. "the general is afraid you will ruin your horses," he cried. "he thinks you had better come back." again captain miner tugged at his beard, a habit of his when annoyed or perplexed. "is that an order?" he inquired. "no, sir, i think not," the orderly replied, hesitatingly. "it's a suggestion." "well," directed the captain, gently, "will you, then, please report to the general that we are in sight of the indians and without i have a positive order to return, i propose to take them." he turned to the front again and put his little roan into her accustomed trot, calling out to the men nearest him, as he waved his hand at them, "take it a bit slower, boys; don't run your horses. we'll catch the indians all right." al's ambitious little sorrel, seeing other horses ahead of him, was tugging at the bit and al gradually let him have his head, leaving the captain a short distance behind while the rest of the company was strung out for a mile or more in the rear. al soon found himself among the leaders, riding neck and neck with sergeant english and corporal wright, while troopers tom frick, george pike, george mcclellan, and others whose names he did not know were near to them. the country was almost level where they were riding and they could now see the three indians plainly, though still a long way ahead. the fugitives were pushing with all the speed they could make for a group of rough hills in advance, evidently hoping to escape pursuit in the ravines. to reach the hills, their course must be at a slight angle across that of the soldiers. "let's try to head them off," suggested sergeant english. "bear a little to the right." the change of direction was made and as they continued to creep up on the indians, whose ponies were evidently wearing out, they could see the latter look around anxiously every minute or two. the savages were urging their animals with quirt and heel, and though they responded but feebly, their strength lasted long enough to take them to the base of the hills before the pursuers had come within carbine range. as they reached the first steep slope, the indians suddenly threw themselves from their ponies' backs and, clinging to their guns, ran up to the top of the hill on foot and disappeared. as they came nearer to the hill, the soldiers were startled to see on its crest, just where the fugitives had disappeared, a very large body of warriors with war-bonnets and robes waving in the breeze. "well, say, what do you think of that?" exclaimed corporal wright. "there must be two or three hundred of them." the advance party reluctantly slowed down until captain miner and some of the other men had come up to them. the captain examined for a moment the ominous looking group ahead. then he turned a wistful glance on the thirty or forty men behind him and said, plaintively, "there seem to be a good many of them, but i think we'd better charge, boys." he touched his mare and trotted forward, calling in a soothing tone, "yes, that's what we'll do. charge, boys, charge." some of the men laughed explosively, partly with nervousness, partly with amusement at their commander's quaint orders, but not one hesitated. spreading out in a long, irregular line, they dashed at the hill, shouting, "death to the murderers!" but as they approached the crest, again laughter broke out, rolling from one flank of the line to the other and back again, in boisterous waves. the supposed indians were nothing more than a patch of mullen stalks, transformed by distance and the peculiar condition of the air into a resemblance to human beings. the men looked at each other sheepishly, but as they reached the top of the hill, they sobered again. the three real indians were just disappearing down a ravine on the other side. pell-mell the cavalry rushed after them, captain miner and sergeant english now in the lead. the horses slid and stumbled down through the ravine, but the wily savages were still ahead, dodging about among obstructions to the view which none but indians could have found. presently the ravine widened out into a valley in which no sign of life was to be seen. the whole body of cavalry was going on into the valley when suddenly the indians rose as if from the ground, a little way to one side of the course the soldiers were taking, and fired at the captain and the sergeant, behind whom al was closely following. the fugitives had taken refuge in an old buffalo wallow, forming a perfect natural rifle-pit; and if they had not mistakenly thought themselves discovered and risen to fire, their pursuers would probably have swept by without finding them. but now they were brought to bay and with cheers and yells of delight a number of troopers sprang from their saddles and encircling the buffalo wallow, though at some distance from it, threw themselves flat on the ground with carbines cocked, waiting for an indian to show himself. it was like a pack of wolves surrounding their quarry. fortunately, neither the captain nor sergeant english had been injured by the first fire and they joined the circle of besiegers, while the men who were holding the horses formed a wider circle back on the prairie out of range. al's horse, though of course new to him, was an old campaigner which had gone out from fort randall on more than one forced march. his name, cottontail, had doubtless been bestowed upon him by some former soldier rider in humorous reference to his fluffy tail, which was almost white. he could be trusted to stand through any amount of noise or excitement if his reins were, thrown over his head so that they hung on the ground at his feet. al left him thus, standing alone, and running forward, dropped down in the ring of dismounted men beside corporal wright. for a few moments the indians kept out of sight. then something rose above the rim of the buffalo wallow and al, who was watching that spot with intense eagerness as he lay sprawled in the short prairie grass, raised his rifle to fire. but the corporal slapped down the barrel. "don't shoot at that," said he, "or the boys'll laugh at you. it isn't a redskin; it's just a breech cloth they're sticking up to draw our fire. look closer." al looked as directed and saw, on more careful scrutiny, that it was, indeed, only a piece of cloth. none of the men fired at it, but some of them hooted derisively, for they knew that the indians' scheme was to draw a volley, when they could safely spring up and fire at their besiegers before the latter could reload. al lowered his rifle in disgust. "how are we going to get them if they never stick their heads up?" he inquired, impatiently. "well, they can stay and starve to death," answered wright, grinning. "we're able to hold out longer at that game than they are. but captain'll order us to charge pretty soon if they don't do something." however, the indians could not stand the suspense. their ruse having failed, one of them soon raised his gun and then his head above the edge of the hole and fired quickly at the first soldier he sighted. his aim was bad and he had misjudged the alertness of his foes. almost before he had shot, a dozen carbines cracked and he dropped back more suddenly than he had risen. all those in the encircling line heard, or thought they heard, the dull thud of the bullets as they struck him. a disjointed cheer ran round among the men. "there goes one of the murderers!" they shouted. "now for the next." the circle began to contract, the men crawling and hitching forward, a few inches at a time. for some minutes this was kept up on all sides of the hole, until they had approached within a few rods of it. still the indians gave no sign. then again the soldiers heard, plainly audible in the silence, the persuasive voice of captain miner, raised slightly above its ordinary tone; "charge, boys, charge!" as if released by a spring, at those welcome words the coyotes leaped to their feet as one man and with a fierce shout rushed forward. the indians heard them coming and as the soldiers approached within twenty feet of their refuge they arose and with a blood-curdling yell fired their guns straight into the faces of their assailants. good fortune was surely with the dakota boys that day, for the bullets, even at that deadly range, whistled by harmlessly, and in less time than it takes to tell it, a score of carbines flashed and the savage assassins, riddled with bullets, fell back across the body of their already dead companion. thus speedily had the cold-blooded murder of captain feilner been avenged. the soldiers, talking together excitedly, gathered around the edge of the buffalo wallow; and two or three, including corporal wright, sprang down into it to take trophies, such as beads or feathers, from the dead warriors. al was standing on the brink of the hole watching the corporal bend over one of the bodies, when, to his amazement, he saw another of the supposedly dead indians raise the muzzle of his musket toward the corporal's back. [illustration: the indian raised his rifle to shoot corporal wright] "look out, corporal!" shouted al, at the same instant shooting into the indian. the corporal leaped high in air and turned round just in time to see the musket drop from the hands of the warrior as he fell back and expired. "why, he wasn't dead at all!" exclaimed al, aghast at the suddenness of the thing. "he was playing possum and he almost had you, corporal." wright, a little pale, scrambled out of the hole and grasped al's hand warmly. "you've saved my life, sure enough," said he, earnestly. "i hope i can do as much for you sometime." "i hope there won't be any need," answered al, smiling, "but i'm very glad i saw him in time." "it's lucky for charlie that you did," cried sergeant english, "it looks so mighty suspicious to be shot in the back." wright, laughing, wheeled like lightning on the joker and made a clutch at him; but the sergeant sprang out of the way and raced off, with wright close on his heels, shouting, "here, come back, while i thrash you for that!" with their sabres catching between their legs, the two brave fellows, playing like boys, looked comical enough; and the rest of the men, all of them in high spirits over their success, yelled and applauded loudly as they dodged about over the prairie until so completely out of breath that they sunk to the ground, still laughing, and lay there panting. as soon as they had caught their breath they arose again and returned to the buffalo wallow. captain miner was standing thoughtfully beside it, looking down at the dead indians. "i don't see what we are going to do with these fellows," he said, doubtfully, glancing around at his men. "the general ordered me to bring them to him, dead or alive, and of course we've got to do it. but we must be fifteen miles from the column and they'll be kind of awkward to take that far." "strip off some of their ornaments," suggested somebody, "and take them to the general." the captain, interested, peered in the direction of the speaker. "why, that isn't a bad idea," he answered, gratefully. "yes, i think that will do, boys." a score of men jumped into the hole while one man ran and brought a sack in which he had been carrying oats for his horse. in less time than it takes to tell it the trophies, stripped from the trappings of the indians with sabres and knives, were deposited in the sack, which captain miner fastened to the pommel of his saddle. the company were soon mounted and riding back toward the cheyenne, where the main command had bivouacked for the night, gathering in on the way the stragglers who had been unable to keep up during the chase. about midway of their march they were met by lieutenant bacon, whom general sully had sent out with an ambulance carrying water and commissaries to the coyotes, knowing that they would be both hungry and thirsty. bacon was jubilant over the success of company a, for he was its first lieutenant, and he gave out the supplies liberally, assisted by al. "young fellow," said he to the latter, with a twinkle in his eye, "what do you mean by running off to play with these boys here and leaving me to attend to all the work of feeding the army?" "cottontail ran away with me, sir," answered al, unabashed. "that'll do," exclaimed the lieutenant. "it's evident you're not a descendant of george washington. but i don't blame you for going; wish i had gone myself and let the army wait for its supper." the command marched into camp about sunset. fires were burning brightly here and there, and as they approached, the soldiers gathered in crowds to see and cheer them. captain miner led his men directly to the headquarters tents, before which general sully and a group of staff and other officers collected as the dusty men on their tired horses marched up and halted before them. without dismounting, captain miner rode straight to the general, saluted, and loosing the sack, dropped it on the ground at sully's feet. "we got them, general," he murmured, absently. as the sack fell, the trophies rolled from it and lay in plain view. "well," said the general, "captain, this is certainly pretty good evidence that you got them. i thank you and your men for the vigor and gallantry and success of your pursuit. please keep these till to-morrow morning. i will give you further orders concerning them." chapter x the fort on the river another day of easy marching brought the column to swan lake creek, about fifteen miles due north of the little cheyenne, where camp was made to await the arrival of the second brigade, from minnesota, which, according to the arrangement between generals sibley and sully, was to join the expedition there. scouting parties were sent on north toward bois cache creek to look for the expected troops; and while awaiting their return al had an opportunity to see illustrated in rather an amusing way one phase of general sully's bluff, soldierly character. some of the regiments which had marched from fort sully were quite recently organized, and the general had not yet made the acquaintance of all their officers; so at swan lake creek, having a little leisure time, he asked the commanders of these regiments to bring to headquarters such of their officers as he had not met. among them appeared a young lieutenant of the sixth iowa cavalry, dressed in a spotless new uniform of the latest regulation cut, set off by a red silk sash and a resplendent sabre-belt, and very strongly perfumed with musk. general sully, like general grant, was very modest in his dress, and his uniform, except for the shoulder-straps, differed little from that of a private, while sometimes in the field he even wore civilian garments, such as corduroy trousers and white felt hat. he detested gorgeous uniforms, especially when the wearer had no particular claim to soldierly eminence or ability. when his eye fell upon this particular military dandy, he looked the young man over contemptuously and his lip curled as he sniffed the odor of musk. al, who was standing by, saw that something was coming, and listened in amused silence. "general sully," said major ten broeck, who had brought the fledgeling officer for presentation, "allow me to introduce lieutenant c----, of company ----, sixth iowa cavalry." "lieutenant c----, eh?" grunted the general. "well, lieutenant, how long have you been in the volunteer service?" "about six months," replied the other, seeming to feel conscious that such a lengthy period had made him a model military man in every particular. "six months?" cried the general, striking his fist down on his knee. "why, great heavens, man, i've been in the regular service for twenty years, and don't smell half as bad as you do!" with that he waved his hand impatiently to major ten broeck to indicate that the interview was ended, and the crestfallen young officer withdrew hastily. on the morning of june the men, idling about the camp, descried the columns of the second brigade, long, narrow ribbons in the distance, crawling toward them across the limitless, gently rolling plain. rejoicing and excitement broke out on every hand, for it meant that there would be no delay in the progress of the campaign, as many had feared there might be, since the minnesota troops had been obliged to make a march of nearly three hundred and fifty miles from fort ridgely to the rendezvous. that the junction of the two brigades was effected so promptly in that vast wilderness was a matter for congratulation, and general sully seemed to feel that he could not too highly praise colonel minor t. thomas, the commanding officer of the minnesota column, for the promptness and skill with which he had conducted his march. the newcomers went into camp beside the first brigade, and the men of the two commands were soon mingled, telling one another of their respective experiences. that evening, as soon as he had finished his duties for the day and eaten his supper, al strolled into the camp of the second, or, as it was generally called, the minnesota brigade, to see if he could find there any old acquaintances, particularly any who might have been at fort ridgely. here and there fires were burning and the men were lounging about in groups, talking, playing cards, or otherwise amusing themselves. long lines of cavalry horses extended between the company streets, securely tied to picket lines; and near the creek a large train of wagons was corralled, its outspanned mule teams, crowded within the great circle of wagons, seeming almost countless. as he walked along through the haze of dust made golden by the setting sun, al noticed a cavalryman sitting cross-legged by one of the fires, engaged in the unmilitary task of sewing a button on his coat. the soldier's back was toward him, but that back had an oddly familiar look. al walked around until he could see the trooper's profile, then, with an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, he sprang forward and slapped the amateur tailor on the shoulder. "wallace smith!" he exclaimed. "say, but i'm glad to see you, old fellow." wallace looked up, startled, then sprang to his feet and gripped al's hand. "why, al briscoe!" he cried, "what on earth are you doing here? i had no idea you were within a thousand miles." "i came up with general sully from st. louis to help look for my brother tommy," al answered. "and you?" "i am a private in the eighth minnesota," explained wallace. "i became eighteen just before the column left minnesota, and as soon as i did, i enlisted." he looked inquiringly at al's civilian clothes. "aren't you in the service?" he asked. "no; not old enough," al replied. "but i'm serving just about the same as a soldier. practically i am on general sully's staff." "whew-w!" whistled wallace. "lucky boy. that must be great. how did it happen?" mutual explanations followed and before long each of the boys knew the main facts of the other's history since they parted, nearly two years before. "there are other old acquaintances of yours with us," said wallace, presently. "you remember sergeant jones, who commanded the artillery at fort ridgely?" "indeed i do," al replied, recalling with quickened pulses the sergeant's gallantry. "is he here?" "yes. he is now captain jones, of the third minnesota battery and he is in command of our artillery; two six-pounder field guns and two twelve-pounder mountain howitzers, of his battery." "he certainly deserved promotion for his work at fort ridgely," exclaimed al, enthusiastically. "yes, he did," agreed wallace, "and his men say he is a fine officer." "is lieutenant sheehan along?" asked al. "no, the fifth has been down south for nearly two years, and he with them. but you remember major brown? he is chief of scouts with us, and has a company of about fifty indians. then there are several men among our different regiments who were at fort ridgely as refugees and who have since enlisted." "how many men are in your brigade?" al asked. "i believe between fifteen and sixteen hundred," wallace replied, "not, of course, including the teamsters with the wagon train. let me see. there is our entire regiment, the eighth infantry; we are all mounted for this campaign. minor t. thomas is our colonel, but as he is in command of the brigade, lieutenant-colonel rogers is actually commanding the regiment. then there are four companies of the thirtieth wisconsin, under colonel dill, and six companies of the second minnesota cavalry under colonel mclaren, besides the artillery and a train of ninety-three wagons and twelve ambulances, each drawn by a six-mule team. we have quite a herd of beef cattle, too. so you see there are enough animals with us alone to eat up all the grass in this country for miles around in short order; and i suppose there are about as many with your brigade." "yes, there are a lot of them," agreed al. "we can't stay very long in one place and find forage enough, unless rain comes to make the grass grow." the boys, very happy to meet one another again, talked for several hours and then at last they separated for the night, each promising to see the other as often as possible. the camp had quieted down, and most of the men of both brigades, weary with the marching and other work of the past few days, were wrapped in deep slumber; but all around the camps were heavy guards, and the sentries, alert and watchful, were pacing their beats. they looked shadowy and ghost-like under the starlight as al passed along, making his way through the company streets of little white dog-tents, each backed by its long picket-line of horses, standing or lying almost motionless in the gloom. it was not many minutes after he had reached his own cot in one of the big sibley tents of headquarters before al, too, was sleeping the profound and dreamless sleep of youth and health. general sully's orders from general pope were to establish a fort on the missouri river somewhere near the point where the long lake river entered the stream. the plan of the government at this time was to erect and maintain a chain of military posts, of which the new fort should be one, extending from minnesota to central montana, which should serve not only to hold the indians in check but also to protect emigrants going through the sioux country from the east, across dakota, to the new montana gold-mining districts. a well marked trail had become established through this section since , but the hostility of the indians was such that none but very strong parties of emigrants could make use of it. the government wished to render the route more safe; and the new fort on the missouri, as well as the one general sully was expected to build on the yellowstone, was part of the chain, which began at fort abercrombie, minnesota, on the red river of the north. for four days after the junction of the two brigades, the entire command lay in camp for the purpose of resting both men and animals. the time passed quietly and not unpleasantly, but with no unusual incidents. several summer thunder showers came, greatly improving the grass and relieving the discomfort which the expedition had previously suffered from the dust. though nearly every one was idle most of the time, al found plenty to keep him busy. the camp was seven miles from the missouri, where the steamboats lay, and the dakota cavalry was ordered to the river as a guard for them. then the wagon-train, in sections, went down to reload from the reserve supplies on the boats. thus al was frequently obliged to go back and forth on cottontail between the encampment and the river, sometimes finding a chance while at the latter point to spend a little time with his friends of the dakota cavalry or with those acquaintances among the steamboat men whom he had come to know during the long trip from st. louis to fort sully. at length, on the third of july, general sully put the first brigade in motion for the mouth of long lake river, distant about one hundred miles, and, after instructing the second brigade to proceed thither also on the next day, he set out himself on the _island city_ to examine the river banks for a suitable site on which to build the new fort. as an escort for the boat he took a company of troops, and most of the members of his staff also went with him; but al remained with the column, as his duties demanded his presence there. the marches were long but not exhausting, and by the eighth of july all the forces were assembled on the missouri a short distance above the mouth of long lake river. directly opposite, on the west bank of the missouri, was the site on which the general had decided to build fort rice, as the new post was to be called. the location was an ideal one. it was a level tableland with a permanent bank along the river nearly one hundred feet high, and behind it rose a majestic range of sandstone bluffs, which, just below the post swept out boldly to the brink of the missouri and followed it down to the mouth of the cannonball river, eight miles south. along the base of the bluffs extended a long, narrow belt of heavy timber, and another and much larger forest covered the wide valley above the post. immediately in front of the latter the river was narrow, insuring a good crossing at nearly all seasons, its only disadvantage being that, owing to the high bank on which the fort stood, the ferry and steamboat landing had to be made about half a mile down stream. on the arrival of the army, a ferry, consisting of a long cable stretched from bank to bank across the missouri, on which a flatboat was guided back and forth, was immediately put in operation. some of the troops, including the dakota cavalry, crossed on it and went into camp near the site of the fort. the steamers were then unloaded and put to work crossing the rest of the troops and the wagon-train, and the army was soon all assembled on the west bank. two sawmills, one operated by a steam-engine and the other by horse-power, the entire equipment for which had been brought along, were now started and began rapidly getting out building materials, the timber being brought from the near-by forests. great cottonwood logs for the walls were squared to dimensions of six by eight inches, and planks and boards were sawed for the interior work. the stockade, with bastions on the northeast and southwest corners, was also built of cottonwood. the four companies of the thirteenth wisconsin, under colonel dill, which were to be left to garrison the completed work, also constructed it. they were composed of men from the wisconsin lumbering districts, who knew their business thoroughly; and with so many hands to do the work it proceeded rapidly. in an incredibly short time barracks for eight companies, officers' quarters, hospital, and storehouses, began to take on an appearance of permanency which must have filled the scouts of the hostile indians with anger and dread, as they lay watching day by day from distant ridges and buttes. a short time after camp was pitched at fort rice a long line of wagons made its appearance on the hills across the river and came dragging slowly down the trail made by the army, until it reached the river bank. it was a large party of emigrants from minnesota, which had followed the second brigade for the purpose of having the protection of the army in crossing the country between the missouri and the yellowstone. there were about a hundred and twenty-five wagons in the train and several hundred people, including many women and children, and they were bound for the gold fields. their wagons were drawn by ox-teams. their arrival drew forth an explosion from general sully. "the idea of bringing women and children into such a country as this," he exclaimed. "i've got to protect them because the government has guaranteed them safe conduct through the sioux lands and told them that i will look after them. and so here they are, with a lot of lumbering ox-teams, good for about six miles a day. how in the name of sense do they expect to keep up with cavalry?" "you can detach an escort to stay with them," suggested one of the staff officers. "yes, of course i can," returned the general. "that's one of the worst features of the business. we'll have to cut down our fighting force in order to look after this travelling nursery, and the whole army'll have to potter along and mark time when the indians are just ahead, so that the ladies can have their noontime nap. they will be everlastingly hindering us in one way or another. i wish i could send them back where they came from." "why don't you?" asked some one. the general looked at the speaker disgustedly. "do you know what would happen if i sent them back?" he asked. "i should be reprimanded by the secretary of war, at the very least. it seems as though the petting and protection of a handful of emigrants, most of them runaways from the draft, is regarded as of more importance than the success of military operations; at least, that has usually been my experience in the past. also, a howl would go up all over the country about the cruelty of that hard-hearted military dictator, sully, who refused to lend to a few poor struggling emigrants the assistance of his mighty army. oh, no, i must take them along; that's all there is to it." a day or two after this, al was in one of the supply wagons, when a shadow came across the rear opening of the canvas top, whose back-flaps he had drawn aside in order to see better as he worked. he looked up to see peering in at him two bearded individuals wearing wide-brimmed felt hats, checked shirts, and blue overalls, the latter tucked into the tops of their cowhide boots. they were evidently members of the emigrant party. "we want to buy some grub from you," said one of the men, looking over the contents of the wagon as if he were inspecting the shelves of a grocery store. "gimme a box o' that hardtack and a couple o' slabs o' bacon and about ten pounds o' sugar, and,--" "why, i can't sell you anything," interrupted al, taken very much by surprise. "sure you kin," persisted the man, jingling some coins in his hand. "i've got money; i'll pay cash." "but these are government stores," al answered. "i'm not authorized to sell them." "oh, well, that'll be all right," the would-be customer dismissed the objection with a wave of the hand. "we're gettin' low on grub over in our camp, and we want to hang on to what we've got till we git acrost the yellowstone. o' course we've got to eat, and the army's got to supply us, 'specially when we're willin' to pay fer stuff. old sully knows that." he spoke as if he considered the idea of paying as a great concession, for which the government ought to be very grateful. "i do not think that _general_ sully brought supplies along for more than his own men," replied al, putting emphasis upon the title, for he resented the disrespectful tone used by the emigrant. "however," he added, "i will ask the quartermaster." he jumped from the wagon and, followed by the two emigrants, sought lieutenant bacon. "why, i never heard of such brass," exclaimed the latter in an undertone when al had found him and explained the demands of the emigrants. "of course we haven't any supplies for these fellows. why didn't they bring along enough to last them?" he turned to the men and repeated what al had already told them. but they were stubborn and declined to accept the quartermaster's refusal. indeed, they became angry and began condemning the general, the northwestern indian expedition, and the army, in unmeasured terms. "now, that will do," at last exclaimed lieutenant bacon, sharply, tired of their insolence. "i'll take you to general sully and he can decide the matter." when the question had been explained to him, the general was plainly irritated but he held his temper in check. "i have not enough supplies here now to outfit this post until next spring and to carry my army through the coming campaign," said he. "some of my boats are now busy bringing up supplies which were left at farm island, that there may be sufficient to take us through. why didn't you bring enough yourselves to last you?" "because we was told we could get 'em from you," replied one of the men. "who told you that?" "well, them that ought to know," answered the other, evasively. "they were mistaken," said the general. "i simply cannot let you have supplies." "well, it's a blamed funny thing," exclaimed one of the emigrants, assuming a tone of outraged virtue, "if a general and a great big army can let poor emigrants starve to death; folks that are goin' out, riskin' their lives and everything to settle up wild land and make this here country great." "you're going out from motives of pure patriotism alone, i suppose?" asked the general, sarcastically. "you're not going because there's gold out there and you want to make your fortunes?" "well, maybe we can make a livin'," answered the emigrant who had done most of the talking, a little abashed, "but we'll build up the country, just the same." "that's very true," the general replied, earnestly, "and i'm willing to do all that i can to help you through, so long as it does not seriously interfere with the objects of the campaign i am here to make against the indians. you can certainly understand that i must and will obey my orders from the government, regardless of any other considerations. i will afford protection to your train as far as my army is going, but more than that i cannot promise. as for supplies, i am satisfied that you have enough with you to carry you through if you exercise care in their use. i do not believe that men would start out on such an expedition as yours with insufficient food. am i not right?" he leaned forward in his camp chair and gave the men a searching look. their eyes fell and they moved their feet uneasily. but the general's glance demanded an answer to his question. "mebbe we could scratch along," admitted one of them, reluctantly. "so i thought," said the general. "you merely figured that by getting army supplies while you were with the troops you could be less sparing with your own. but i can't accommodate you. good-day." he turned to other matters, and his disappointed visitors took themselves away, still grumbling. ten days after the troops had arrived on the site of the new fort, a mere naked tract of virgin land perhaps never before trodden by the feet of white men, they were ready to leave it behind them, covered with an extensive and well-built military post which was destined to be occupied by united states soldiers for many years to come. a few lodges of indians which had come in and surrendered at fort rice had confirmed the reports of those at fort sully concerning the great encampment of sixteen hundred lodges of hostiles assembled in a strong position somewhere near the head of heart river or on the little missouri. they claimed that they had experienced the greatest difficulty in getting away from the hostile camp, and had finally been able to do so only on the plea of buffalo-hunting. they further declared that the hostiles were confident in their strength and were boasting that they would utterly destroy the army of white soldiers if the latter should venture to attack them. so there was a prospect of plenty of excitement in store when, on the morning of july , general sully, unalarmed by such reports, started westward with his army with wagons loaded, troops fully equipped and liberally supplied with ammunition, and horses and mules freshly shod. just before starting, the general went on board the _island city_ to give some parting instructions to captain lamont, who was under orders to proceed up the missouri and the yellowstone, in company with the _chippewa falls_, under captain hutchison, and the _alone_, under captain rea, to meet the column with fresh supplies when it should reach the yellowstone. the _island city_ was loaded chiefly with corn for the horses, but she carried also a considerable quantity of barrelled pork for the troops, and most of the building materials for the intended post on the yellowstone; while the _chippewa falls_ and the _alone_ carried chiefly rations. "now, don't fail me, captain," said the general, as he turned to leave the _island city's_ deck and follow his troops, already winding out of sight across the plateau and up through a break in the westward bluffs. "my animals will probably find poor picking out in that rough country we are going through, and they'll need corn." "we'll be there waiting for you, general, if human exertions can do it," replied captain lamont. "but you must remember that the yellowstone has never been navigated before, and i don't know what snags or rocks we may run into." "you can make it, and you must," said the general, "and don't forget the place you are to meet me,--the brasseau trading house, about sixty miles above the mouth." "i'll be on the watch for you," answered the captain. "that's right; be on the watch," the general assented. then suddenly he opened his field-glass case and took out the glasses. "here's something for you to keep watch with," he continued, handing them to the captain. "i have another pair and you may find these useful. i have carried them for a long time, and they are good glasses." the captain thanked him warmly, and the general walked ashore accompanied by his officers, and they mounted their horses. "good-bye, captain," said al, as he started to follow them. "i hope you will have a good trip, and that i shall see you soon again." he little knew, as he spoke, when and under what unforeseen circumstances the last part of his wish was to be fulfilled. "thank you, al," returned the steamboat officer, giving his hand a kindly grip. "the same to you. don't get yourself shot to pieces; and i hope next time i see you, you will have your brother with you." "oh, i hope so," returned al, earnestly. "we're sure to find him up there in the bad lands." as he crossed the landing-stage and walked out to where cottontail was standing, he saw the deckhand, jim, leaning against the companion stairs, regarding him with a scowl of hatred, but he gave the fellow hardly a passing thought. he followed the staff at a gallop, and as they passed up the bluffs in the wake of the rear-guard the hills were re-echoing to the bellowing whistle of the steamboats, blowing them a parting salute and godspeed. chapter xi trailing the hostiles "i wish i knew where i could get two or three more well-mounted orderlies, with courage and common sense," said general sully the next day, as the army was wending its way through the rough, picturesque hill country along the cannonball. "i haven't enough, and it's hard to tell whether a man can be depended upon until he has been tried." the remark caused al to prick up his ears. "i know a man i think would suit you, general," said he. "who?" asked sully. "he is a private named wallace smith, in the eighth minnesota. i knew him at fort ridgely. i'm sure he has plenty of courage and common sense, and his horse is a good one." al knew that wallace was riding frank, the horse that had so nearly lost their scalps for them on the afternoon of the first attack on fort ridgely. "he is a friend of yours, is he?" asked the general. "yes, sir, he is," answered al. "he ought to be all right, then," the general said. he scribbled something on the paper pad he always carried in his pocket, folded the sheet and handed it to al. "take that to colonel thomas," said he. al obeyed joyfully, for he suspected, as proved to be the case, that the paper was an order to colonel thomas to detach wallace from his regiment for orderly service with the commanding general. wallace was promptly instructed to fall out from the ranks of his company, where he was marching, and he and al were soon riding forward to join general sully, who, as usual, was near the head of the column. "it was certainly very kind of you to think of me, al," said wallace, "and i appreciate it." "perhaps you won't feel so grateful after a while," returned al, with a laugh. "it may be that when we strike the indians you will have to get into some dangerous places in carrying orders." "that's all right; so much the better chance for promotion," declared wallace, lightly. "besides, i'm sure that service at headquarters must be much more interesting and pleasant than it is in the ranks, where one has to march all day in one place, and sleep and eat and wash and brush his teeth and almost breathe, by word of command." "yes, i think you will find it more pleasant in that way," agreed al. "all you need do is to keep up a neat and soldierly appearance, always be on hand in case you should be wanted, and always obey orders promptly and thoroughly." the army was now entering regions where it might expect to encounter indians in heavy force at any time, and general sully was taking all necessary measures to guard his forces against surprise and also to reconnoitre the country thoroughly for signs of the red foe. the company of winnebago indian scouts from nebraska, and the friendly sioux employed by general sully, were constantly spread out far in front and on the flanks of the column, scouring the ravines and hills and clumps of timber, while a heavy advance guard preceded the main body on the march. every night the wagon train was corralled, with its mules herded in the centre. an escort of four hundred men was detailed to remain always with the montana emigrant train; for the latter, though it usually marched close behind the army, sometimes met with delays because its wagons were very heavily loaded. major brown's company of indian scouts from minnesota had remained at fort rice, under orders to return as speedily as possible to fort wadsworth; so that general sully had none too many scouts with him to properly cover his advance. one afternoon, camp was made for the night on a level plateau covered with fine grass not far from the bank of the cannonball and overlooking the lower valley of that stream. several small buttes, with steep sides and round tops, rose abruptly from the valley close to the river, and between them glimpses could be caught from the camp of the narrow stream beyond, its waters sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. after a hot day's march the river looked very inviting, and lieutenant dale proposed to al that they go down and take a swim, which would also give them a chance to examine more closely the river and the curious rock formations along its banks. al readily agreed and also obtained permission from the general for wallace to accompany them. mounting their horses, they picked their way down the steep face of the plateau and rode out across the bottom heading somewhat up stream until they came out on the river bank, where a little rocky beach shelving down into the water seemed to offer a pleasant spot for swimming. a few yards downstream rose the abrupt walls of one of the buttes, which looked as if it had been built up of many thin horizontal layers of sandstone. its base was fringed with small brush and willow saplings and here and there a choke-cherry tree, well loaded with ripe fruit, of which the party decided to eat their fill when their swim was over. after their horses had drunk greedily of the fresh, sparkling water, their riders tied them among the saplings, threw off their clothes, and in a moment were laughing and splashing in the cold, clear stream, which, though too shallow to afford much swimming, was delightfully refreshing. they amused themselves for some minutes in picking up and throwing about the curious pebbles and larger stones, worn perfectly smooth and round by the water, which, owing to their resemblance to cannonballs, had given the stream its name. presently wallace waded out nearly to mid-channel,--not an easy feat, for the current was quite strong,--and there he found a hole six or seven feet deep. "hello!" he shouted to his companions. "watch me duck under and see how long i stay down." lieutenant dale and al stopped motionless to watch him. wallace crouched down in the water, then sprang erect as high as possible and, jumping forward, disappeared head first into the deeper pool. at the very instant when he turned over in the air his companions were electrified to hear the report of a musket from the base of the butte just below them, and as wallace went out of sight they saw the bullet kick up a jet of spray apparently not two inches above his back. wheeling round they saw a feather of smoke rise from the bushes at the further end of the butte, and without a word both of them dashed out of the river to the spot where their clothes lay. each one of the three had his revolver with him, as always, and in less time than it takes to tell it al and the lieutenant, stark naked, had their weapons in their hands. al heard a splash in the river below them. he sprang down to the water's edge and peered through the bushes. not thirty yards away an indian was riding his pony into the stream and al raised his revolver and fired. the pony sunk to its knees and toppled over, flinging its rider into the water, but the warrior was up again in an instant and waded quickly back to the shore, where he disappeared behind the butte. at this moment wallace rushed up and caught his revolver from its holster. "he's back of the butte," cried lieutenant dale. "we can head him off. you stay here and watch the river, smith. come on, briscoe." he and al hastened off around the landward side of the butte, while wallace crouched down by the river bank to shoot at the indian if he should attempt to cross. as al and his companion cautiously made their way to a point where they could look down the valley they saw that the wide interval extending from their position to the next detached butte down river was quite open and covered only with short grass, which afforded little or no cover. nevertheless, even as they looked they saw the indian run out from the bushes upon the open space and start on a run across it. the lieutenant and al both fired at him and the bullets must have come very close, for he immediately veered and ran again into the river. but the hunted warrior had no sooner reached it than they heard the crack of wallace's revolver, around on the other side of the butte, and a moment later the indian, evidently despairing of being able to escape alive, walked up on the bank once more with his rifle held aloft in sign of surrender. al and the lieutenant emerged from the bushes and advanced toward him, taking the precaution, however, to keep him covered with their revolvers. neither of them was struck at the moment by the ridiculous appearance they presented, "clad only with revolvers," as lieutenant dale expressed it, but they often laughed about it afterward. the indian, an ugly, low-browed, flat-nosed specimen of his race, came up to them and lieutenant dale disarmed him, taking his musket and a knife concealed in his blanket. then, keeping him ahead of them, they marched him back to the place where wallace had remained, by the horses. here they bound his hands with a saddle strap and, after dressing, started back to camp, making the prisoner walk in front of them. their appearance created an uproar of excitement, and questions and congratulations poured upon them from every side, but they pushed their way steadily through the crowd until they reached headquarters and presented their prisoner to general sully. the latter immediately sent for an interpreter, and then began a severe cross-examination of the captive. he proved surly, and his answers were short and most of them plainly false, until the general sharply informed him that he would be hanged immediately if he did not answer fully, and that he would be hanged later if his answers proved to be untruthful. he then suddenly found his tongue and became a model witness. according to his statement, he was an upper yanktonais, and was simply watching the army as a scout when he saw lieutenant dale and his companions go in swimming; and, thinking that he could escape across the river, had decided to try and pick one or more of them off. he admitted that there were many scouts of the hostiles in the vicinity, but said that most of them were held far back from the army by the presence of general sully's scouts. asked as to the hostile army and its location, he hesitated, but finally replied that the camps were very great and were in a very strong position on the headwaters of the knife river, a considerable distance north of the cannonball. he declared the camps contained so many warriors that the indians were sure of easily defeating the white army, and proposed to stand and fight before their encampment. having extracted all the information from the prisoner which seemed possible, general sully was about to dismiss him with instructions that he be kept under close guard until further orders, when al stepped up and said in a low tone, "general, he says he is an upper yanktonais. would you mind asking him whether he knows anything about my brother or about the indian who holds him?" "why, certainly i will," replied the general. "i ought to have thought of that myself." he held up his hand to the interpreter, who was retiring, and then, fixing his eyes on the captive, asked, "do you know a member of your tribe named te-o-kun-ko?" the interpreter translated the question into sioux. the prisoner remained stolidly silent a moment, then answered in the low, guttural tone he had used all through the interview, "tush." "he says, 'yes,'" said the interpreter. al started. was some real news coming at last? "is he in your camps now?" pursued the general. "tush," replied the savage. "has te-o-kun-ko a white boy prisoner with him?" the general went on. as soon as the question was interpreted, the indian shot one swift glance at the faces of the general and those around him, then his eyes half closed again to their former expression of passive indifference. "nea," he replied. "he says, 'no,'" interjected the interpreter. "no?" exclaimed sully. "you know that he has had such a prisoner, don't you?" "tush." "well, where is he now?" "i don't know," the indian answered. the general thought a moment. then he inquired, "how long has te-o-kun-ko been in the camp?" the prisoner made quite a lengthy reply and the interpreter struggled a moment arranging it into english speech. "he says, 'he has been in camp only a few days. i saw him just before i came out to scout.'" "where did he come from?" "he came from the south." "but where in the south?" again the reply was long and was translated, "i don't know. i didn't talk with him, but some one told me he came from the south." "when did you see te-o-kun-ko last,--that is, previous to his coming into the big camp?" the general inquired. "i saw him two moons ago on the assouri river, in the country of the hudson's bay company." "did he have the white child with him then?" "tush." "but you are sure he has not the white child with him now?" "no, he has not." "well, that will do," said general sully, rising from his camp-stool. "we can't get any more out of him. he's probably lying, anyway," he added, turning to al. "he doesn't want us to think they have any white prisoners. my belief is that your brother is undoubtedly there." al tried to believe so too, but the interview, nevertheless, made him feel uneasy and depressed. he had known little about his brother's whereabouts and condition before, but now, if the indian's statements were true, he knew less than ever. the search seemed to become more vague and hopeless the further he pursued it and he began almost to despair of ever seeing tommy again. had it not been for the many duties he had to perform and the increasing interest in events before them as they approached nearer to the hostile army, he would have lost heart altogether. but matters crowding fast upon each other forced him largely to forget himself and his private problems. the second day out from fort rice the column passed a deserted indian camp which had evidently been abandoned only recently, and on succeeding days several similar ones were found. it was clear that they could not be far from the enemy's stronghold; and on july , general sully, owing to the statements made by the indian whom the boys had captured and other information received from his scouts, left the cannonball and turned north toward heart river, which the army reached next day. the scouts went out in every direction and on the twenty-sixth unexpectedly encountered a hostile war party of half a hundred braves, who fled north toward the knife river. general sully, being now convinced that the enemy's camp must be within a comparatively short distance, decided to make a forced march on the trail of the war party, and preparations were quickly begun. the main wagon train, as well as the montana emigrant train, was securely corralled in a good camping place by the heart river and a sufficient guard to protect them was detailed to remain behind, under captain william tripp, company b, dakota cavalry. sufficient rations were cooked to last the troops in the field for six days, the general intending to carry all supplies on pack mules taken from the train. nothing but absolutely necessary food and ammunition was to be carried, all articles such as tents and company mess kits being left behind. but when the boxes containing the pack saddles were opened it was found, to every one's dismay, that the cincha straps of the saddles, by which they were to be secured to the mules' backs, were made of leather, about three inches wide, instead of canvas or webbing six or eight inches wide, as they should have been. when the men tried to tighten up these leather straps, they cut so cruelly into the flesh of the mules that the latter began kicking and bucking frantically and could not be quieted until they had rid themselves of their loads. general sully, very much disgusted, was obliged to give up the plan of using a pack train, though it would have been much the easiest and quickest way to carry supplies in the rough country. instead, he impressed into service about thirty-five of the lightest private wagons in the train, belonging to sutlers and to different companies among the troops, which had them for carrying their tents and private belongings. each of these wagons was loaded with about one thousand pounds of food or small arms ammunition. each soldier was supplied with all the cartridges he could carry on his person, and the limber chests of the batteries were filled with artillery ammunition. thus equipped, the fighting forces were ready to start at three o'clock in the afternoon. the bugles blew "mount," the soldiers, teamsters, and emigrants who were being left behind cheered and waved their hats, and in a little while the long column had wound out of sight among the hills and ravines, headed north toward the knife river. chapter xii the battle of tahkahokuty as the troops pressed onward the marching became harder. they were nearing the hill country lying between the knife and the little missouri, full of precipices and deep ravines. that night they camped in the hills, with pickets and camp guards out. each man slept with his sabre and revolver buckled to his waist and the bridle of his saddled horse in his hand. the next night they camped on the knife river under similar conditions, after a hard march of twenty-seven miles, and as no fires were allowed, the weary men sorely missed their strong, hot coffee. as soon as he could do so, al rolled himself in his blanket and stretched out on the ground. it seemed to him that he had but just closed his eyes when he heard the bugles ringing out reveille in the chill darkness. he sat up and rubbed his eyes, hearing a confusion of voices around him, the trampling of horses and jingle of accoutrements. then he felt cottontail's nose push against his cheek and, slowly unbending his stiffened limbs, he rose to his feet. "well, old boy," said he, putting his arm around his horse's neck, "i wonder what's in store for us to-day?" "plenty, probably," said lieutenant dale's voice, close beside him. "i've an idea we'll strike the redskins to-day." it was three o'clock, and in the black darkness the lines were formed, not by sight but by hearing. for an hour they stumbled onward through the darkness before the first streaks of dawn began to give the men vague glimpses of their comrades and of other objects around. a little after sunrise a halt was made on a small branch of the knife river for a quick breakfast of hardtack and coffee, and then the army pushed on again. the hour approached noon and the sun beat down hot on the long columns of horsemen toiling over the hills on each side of the small train of wagons and artillery. general sully, with one or two officers, was riding in an ambulance at the head of the train and others were on their horses near by, al being with them, when they saw a party of several of the indian scouts come galloping back through the advance guard. they did not slacken pace until they reached the general's ambulance, when their leader, much excited, began gesticulating and talking rapidly in his own tongue. "halt the advance guard! tell colonel pollock to halt the first brigade! tell colonel thomas to halt his brigade!" cried the general to three different orderlies, who dashed away in as many different directions. the moving columns became stationary, every eye turning in excited speculation on the general's ambulance, toward which the field officers of the different organizations were galloping from every direction. they found the staff eagerly gathered around the interpreter, who, catching the words from the lips of the chief scout, repeated to the general, "he says, 'we have found the hostiles. they are just ahead, in great numbers, waiting us. we have seen their camps. they are in big hills a few miles from here. it is a very strong place.'" "how far are the indians ahead?" asked the general. "a mile, maybe two miles. they keep moving." "gentlemen," said the general, turning to the field officers around him, "the enemy is found. return to your commands and prepare for action. i will send you orders for battle formation in a few moments." the officers went flying back to their regiments, and as they reached them and gave the stirring news to their men, volleys of cheers broke forth and went rolling up and down the long lines. there could be no doubt of the anxiety of the troops to come to blows with the foe they had been so long hunting. the men dismounted and began tightening up saddle cinchas and sabre belts, arranging their ammunition conveniently and giving a last inspection to carbines, sabres, and revolvers, all the while keeping up an energetic buzz of conversation. in a few moments orderlies and staff officers began to fly along the lines with oral or written orders. al went galloping over to colonel pattee with instructions to dismount his battalion of the seventh iowa and deploy it forward into line of battle on the left of the sixth iowa, of which six dismounted companies were already deploying on the right wing. lieutenant dale carried word to colonel rogers to deploy six companies of the eighth minnesota forward by the right, thus forming the left wing. another officer instructed captain pope to throw his battery into the interval between the seventh iowa and the eighth minnesota; while wallace smith was intrusted with the order to major brackett to close in column upon the right flank, in rear of the sixth iowa, to cover the train and to be prepared to charge when ordered. of the remaining commands, the second minnesota was formed on the left flank, in rear of the eighth minnesota; the dakota cavalry and a company of the sixth iowa were placed as supports for pope's battery; jones's battery was held in reserve with an escort of four companies of the sixth iowa; the wagon train was massed and closed up on the artillery reserve; and behind the train was placed a rear guard of two companies of the eighth and one of the second minnesota. several companies of skirmishers ran out and deployed in front of the main line of battle; and then the general, surveying his dispositions and finding them complete, gave the order to advance. with flags and guidons flaunting proudly in the breeze, the sunlight dancing on sabre scabbards and carbine barrels, men cheering and horses prancing under the impulse of excitement on all sides of the great martial square, the army rolled forward across the swelling, verdant hills, a huge living engine of destruction moving onward to crush, or to be crushed by, the barbaric host in its front. al, riding in the centre, behind the general, looked around him with flashing eyes, for never before had he viewed so inspiring and majestic a scene. it was, in fact, by far the largest and best appointed army which ever went into battle against the hordes of the great sioux nation, not even excepting the columns that followed terry and crook and gibbon twelve years later when, in , the gallant custer and five troops of the seventh united states cavalry lost their lives in the battle of the little big horn. more than twenty-two hundred men were in battle formation on that twenty-eighth day of july, . as wallace smith exclaimed to al, riding along beside him, "by george, al, isn't this a sight worth seeing and worth remembering, too? i'm glad i'm here." "see!" cried al, too startled to reply, suddenly pointing ahead. "there they are!" over the crest of a hill which the skirmish line was ascending, a dense, confused mass of mounted warriors came pouring like a torrent. farther and farther to the right and left its flanks spread with lightning rapidity, breaking over the hill as an ocean roller curls and breaks upon a beach; farther and farther, till it stretched far beyond the utmost extremes of the line of battle. the hundreds of ponies were running at topmost speed, heads down and necks outstretched, the ground shaking beneath their thundering hoof-beats; the hundreds of warriors were brandishing guns and revolvers and plumed lances above their heads, their many-colored war bonnets streaming behind them in the hurricane of the charge, their voices upraised in a tempest of terrific, blood-curdling yells. so the savage host came on, straight for the thin thread of skirmishers and the solid line of battle behind it, as if they would sweep over them both and engulf the whole army at once in utter destruction. it seemed that nothing could stand before them, and they towered above the skirmish line like a wall. wallace clutched al's arm, exclaiming, hoarsely, "my god, what will the skirmishers do?" "watch them! watch them!" answered al, his whole mind centred on the impending collision. the skirmish line came to a halt. here and there it receded a little, then swung forward again, like a rope whipping back and forth. at one point and then at another a white puff of smoke spurted out, and in an instant they rippled all along the line, plain to the eye even before the spattering pop of the carbines reached the ear. it seemed a puny challenge to be flung in the face of that imposing mass of horsemen, but it was enough. they checked in their ponies, broke into fragments and either galloped back as they had come or else swung off to right and left and, running along in front of the line of battle, swept away beyond its flanks. al's pulses were pounding with excitement as he glanced at the general, riding now on his horse. sully's face was as calm as if he were reviewing a dress parade. he stroked his beard slowly as he looked at the skirmish line and remarked, "that was well done." then, turning to one of his aides, he said, in his usual tone, "tell colonel rogers to incline a little more to the left. he is crowding pope's battery." on up the hill just vacated by the indians moved the main body of the army and down into the valley in front of it hurried the skirmishers. as the general and his staff reached the crest, a wonderful scene lay spread before them. it was a great plain, much cut up by ravines and hillocks but appearing from their position to be almost level, and it extended from the hill they were on to the base of another range, several miles away, which rose sheer from the valley in a mighty mass of abrupt ridges and rocky peaks from four hundred to eight hundred feet high. it was tahkahokuty, or kill-deer, mountain. from base to summit it was covered with brush and timber; and among the trees on its top as well as on the low ridge along its base could be seen hundreds upon hundreds of indian lodges, the women and children, the horses and dogs, running about among them, mere specks in the distance. to the left of the advancing army, a sharp upheaval of hills fell away from the flank of tahkahokuty, lower than the main ridge but still formidable; and in front of this, in front of the mountain itself and of the camps at its base and extending far away to the right, the plain was covered with thousands of mounted warriors, some scattered and some in masses, but nearly all of them in rapid motion toward the small, compact army marching steadily forward upon their stronghold. again and again as the line of battle pressed on, the masses of warriors hurled themselves upon its front, only to break and retire before the deadly fire poured into them. but ever farther the red horsemen overlapped the flanks; in spite of the fact that the line of battle was being constantly extended to meet them. the soldiers, parched with the heat of the day and the exertion of marching and fighting over the rough ground, often at the double-quick, were suffering with thirst, but no water was to be found. as the army approached nearer and nearer to tahkahokuty, the indians began to fight with more stubbornness. they galloped up close to the lines, halted and fired, then dashed away again. now and then a soldier fell and was lifted by some of his comrades and carried back to an ambulance. at length two great masses of indians began gathering, one out beyond the left flank, the other, beyond the right, and both near the front of the camps along the mountain's base. general sully, as calm as ever, surveyed them deliberately through his glasses. then suddenly he lowered his hand, straightened up in his saddle and spoke to an aide with a ring in his voice which had not been there before. the decisive moment had come. pointing a steady finger at the crowd of indians on the right, he cried, "tell major brackett to charge those fellows with the sabre! tell him to drive it home; clear the valley and force them up the ridge." like a flash he turned to another officer and, pointing to the mass on the left, said, "order colonel mclaren to charge that party and drive them to the ridge, and not to stop till he has forced them clear away from their camps." once more his words flashed out like a whip-lash, and wallace smith, quivering to be off, caught them as they came from his lips, "tell captain pope to advance at a gallop through the skirmish line and give them shell. tell him to clear the valley and sweep the ridge in front of brackett and mclaren." wallace dashed away and the general relapsed into his former attitude of silent, intent watchfulness. all his officers and orderlies were now gone somewhere with orders, excepting al and lieutenant dale, who still rode behind him. but he paid no more heed to them than to the grass under his horse's feet. his whole attention was concentrated on the great game he was playing with living men for pawns, as the skilful chess player centres his thought upon the board before him at the crisis of the game. far to the right and left fronts, beginning in a low rumble and rising rapidly to a steady, pounding thunder above the crackle of the musketry, sounded the hoof-beats of mclaren's and brackett's squadrons as they passed from the trot to the gallop and from the gallop to the charge and, a forest of flashing sabres circling above their heads, bore down with fierce cheers upon the foe. straight ahead, through the gap in the battle line, could be seen the guns of the prairie battery, going forward, the cannoneers clinging to the limbers, the cavalry escort galloping furiously on either side. a moment more, and the boom of a howitzer rose above the lesser noises of battle, followed by another and another, and the shells, circling high, burst like great, white flowers against the rugged, dark green front of tahkahokuty. a terrified commotion could be seen among the people in the camps on its crest. here and there fires burst out among the lodges and smoke began to pour aloft through the foliage. "'but see! look up! on flodden bent the scottish foe has fired his tent!'" quoted lieutenant dale, pointing upward, and al, catching the inspiration of the great poet of border warfare, who had thrilled him since childhood, went on, "'and sudden, as he spoke, from the sharp ridges of the hill all downward to the banks of till was wreathed in sable smoke!'" before the resistless rush of the minnesotans, the savages on either flank broke and fled wildly back to the higher ground, the cavalry hard on their heels. here, backed literally against their camps, they turned amid the rocks and trees and ravines, like wolves at bay, to protect for a few minutes the squaws and children, who were frantically striking the tepees and running or driving their travois up the ravines and into the impenetrable mountain fastnesses beyond. farther and still farther along the crest of the lower ridge puffed out the little, cotton-like jets of carbine and rifle smoke. at length, nearly at the foot of the mountain on the right they began to increase in rapidity until they were floating off in a mass of thin vapors, while the sound of the fire became a shrill, continuous rattle. above it rose the yells of the indians, answered now and then by a disjointed cheer. general sully's eyes narrowed, and his jaws set hard. "brackett's struck a hornet's nest," he ejaculated. "by george, that begins to sound like fair oaks!" he wheeled his horse and galloped back to captain jones, whose battery was a short distance behind him. "captain," he cried, pointing to the spot where the heaviest fight seemed to be raging, "get out there as quick as the lord'll let you, close to the base of the mountain, and shell out those redskins in front of brackett." the captain saluted and spurred his horse around to the flank of his command. "on right sections;--to twenty-five yards, extend intervals;--" he shouted. "trot;--march!" then, as the battery resolved itself into the new formation, he continued, "right oblique,--march! trot! gallop!" the guns went racing away, swung into battery, and in a moment their shells were searching the ravines in brackett's front. they had scarcely opened when a great hubbub and popping of carbines broke out behind the wagon train, and a large body of indians made their appearance, as if springing out of the ground, and bore down upon the rear guard. immediately one of jones' guns limbered up and came galloping back to reinforce the hard-pressed companies covering the train. at this moment the general raised his glasses with a frown and looked toward the bluffs where mclaren was advancing, then swept his glasses around to pope's battery and the dakota cavalry, which had charged ahead of the guns and become heavily engaged among the rocks in a ravine running back through the centre of the enemy's lower camps. the general turned to lieutenant dale. "warn pope not to fire so far to the left," he said. "he's endangering mclaren's advance." then he called to al, "ride up there to those coyotes and scouts and tell miner not to push too far ahead of the flanks. he'll be surrounded." the two couriers galloped off together, leaving the general for the moment alone. as they pushed through the gap in the centre of the main battle line, lieutenant dale exclaimed, "don't these fellows fight splendidly considering most of them have never been under fire before?" then he laughed. "look at pattee over there! his coat's off and he's fanning himself with his hat. it's a hot day for a fat man to fight." the line of sweating, panting soldiers, closely followed by their comrades who were holding the horses, was plodding steadily ahead, firing at intervals upon the scattered warriors still circling in their front, as yet unrouted by the movements which had swept back their extreme flanks. having passed the line of battle and the skirmishers ahead of it, the lieutenant changed his course toward the left, where pope's men were working methodically around their guns, while al galloped straight on. he passed a small, detached butte from whose crest the shells of pope's guns had just driven a crowd of squaws and children who were watching the battle from that elevation. he encountered no warriors, though some were so near that he drew his revolver before entering the rocky, timbered mouth of the ravine where the coyotes were engaged. few soldiers were to be seen at first, but sounds were arising from among the rocks resembling those of a small volcano in eruption, and as al pushed on into the broken ground he began to meet here and there troopers of the dakota cavalry, each holding four or more horses of the men on the firing line, which was still farther ahead. he soon found that he could not continue mounted, so, hooking up the sabre he had worn ever since leaving fort rice, he dropped cottontail's reins over his head and hurried forward on foot, stumbling over roots and dodging rocks, in search of captain miner. bullets and occasionally arrows whistled by him and the yells of the indians seemed not fifty feet away. in a moment he came upon corporal wright and two men of his squad, crouching behind a broad rock and firing whenever they saw a target. just as al reached them the corporal cried to his men, "now!" they leaped from their concealment and ran forward with a shout to another rock, some thirty feet ahead, while four indians, who had been hidden on its further side, jumped back and bolted for other cover higher up the ravine. the troopers fired and one warrior fell, but was snatched up by his companions and dragged along. al followed the soldiers and cried in the corporal's ear, "charlie, where is captain miner?" "captain miner?" said wright. "i don't know. he's somewhere around but we're all scattered out here." al could see other soldiers behind trees and rocks off to the right across the ravine, and, dodging from one cover to another, he started in that direction. after going a few yards he nearly fell over a man lying flat on the ground, peering ahead around the corner of a stone with his cocked carbine at his shoulder. "hi, wallace!" exclaimed al. "what are you doing here? why don't you go back to the general?" wallace shot a resentful glance at him. "how can i go back?" he asked. "we're cut off. there's redskins all along the rear." "but i just came through," objected al. "oh, don't bother me!" cried wallace, impatiently, quite beside himself with the fascination of the struggle. "can't you let a fellow alone? there!" at the last word his carbine cracked and an indian, his arm dangling at his side, darted away from a tree ahead. wallace sprang up and followed, taking possession of the nearer side of the tree. "say, wallace, where's captain miner?" shouted al after him. "aw, how do i know?" replied wallace, without looking around. then he added, "oh, yes; he was just over there a minute ago." he jerked his head vaguely to the right. al went on and almost immediately encountered the captain, accompanied by eight or ten men, in a little gully where they had stopped to breathe. though panting and soaked with perspiration, the men were firing up at the rocks above them but, at the moment when al arrived, the captain's revolver lay on the ground at his feet and his drawn sabre was thrust under one arm while he was picking with his right thumb and forefinger at a tiny splinter in the palm of his left hand. his face wore an absorbed expression and he moved his head slowly from side to side as he worked. he seemed entirely unconscious that anything was happening around him. "captain miner," said al, hardly able to repress a laugh as he saluted, "general sully says for you not to get too far ahead of the flanks. he is afraid you will be surrounded." the captain looked up at him with a glance of pathetic helplessness. "why, my boy," said he, "how can i help it? we are already surrounded. we must keep going ahead or we shall be cleaned out. i'm sorry. i wish the general understood the situation." having extracted the splinter, he picked up his revolver again, stepped to a rock and peered around it. "they seem to be afraid to go out of there, don't they?" he said to his men, thoughtfully, after a moment's inspection of the enemy's position. "i believe perhaps we'd better drive them. yes, let's do that. come on, boys. charge!" the soldiers gave a yell and scrambled out of the gully, al with them, and the captain climbing and jumping over the rocks just ahead. on either side of them other men of the coyotes sprang up to join the advance; and farther to the right, up the side of the ravine, the winnebago scouts of captain stufft, and captain williams's company of the sixth iowa, surged forward also. a hundred or more indians sprang away from their hiding-places beyond and hurried higher up the ravine, some of them pausing to fire at their pursuers. al, being strong and quick, was soon abreast of the captain. he was just pulling himself up on hands and knees over a ledge when he saw a tall, broad-shouldered indian step into view from behind a rock not thirty feet ahead and raise his rifle to fire. as he stood, his left side was turned slightly toward al, and what the latter saw as he looked made him gasp as though he had been struck in the face. a long, livid scar ran down the cheek and neck of the savage and out upon his shoulder. [illustration: he was just pulling himself up] for an instant al's head swam, as he realized that before him stood te-o-kun-ko, the captor of his brother tommy. then, with no thought in his mind other than that he must catch up with the yanktonais and demand his brother, he began running and climbing ahead again with frantic energy. the indian had fired and disappeared; but to al's excited imagination it seemed almost as if in overtaking him he would overtake tommy himself. he paid no heed to captain miner and his men nor to wallace smith, who had joined them, all of whom were shouting to him to come back. he leaped over the rock where te-o-kun-ko had stood but the warrior was not in sight. he ran up a little, steep depression beyond and swung around a tree-trunk at its head. an indian behind a stone a few feet to one side, who had not noticed him so far in front of the line, gave him a terrified glance and fled like a rabbit. al did not pause to fire at him; but another warrior on his opposite side sent a bullet so close that the wind of it brushed his face sharply, and he stopped long enough to reply with his revolver; whereupon the savage dived between two boulders and vanished. al rushed on, totally oblivious of the fact that he was getting far within the retreating indian lines. just then, in climbing over a boulder, his foot slipped and he pitched forward and rolled into the narrow crevice between two rocks beyond, where, for a moment, he was held securely, despite his struggles. he twisted himself around in an effort to grasp a point of the stone above him, and found himself staring into the face of te-o-kun-ko, hardly fifteen feet away, looking at him down the barrel of his rifle. "te-o-kun-ko! wait!" shouted al. "te-o-kun-ko, where is tommy,--tommy briscoe?" the tense muscles of the indian's features relaxed. his finger did not press the trigger which would have forever ended al's search. across his face came an expression of intense bewilderment, mixed, it seemed to al's fascinated gaze, with grief or remorse. the levelled rifle barrel wavered and then sunk. he half turned away, hesitatingly, then looked again at al with a keen, searching glance, as the latter lay helpless between the rocks. finally, with a gesture half defiant and half despairing, he made a few quick, cat-like springs across the rocks and disappeared once more. with a mighty effort al succeeded in grasping the jutting point of the stone and drew himself up from the crevice. he was none too soon, for two indians, whom he had distanced in his rapid climb, coming along the slope near him with guns evidently empty, saw him and leaped at him with clubbed muskets. he fired his revolver at one of them and missed, then jerked out his sabre and swung it in a left parry just in time to save his head from the blow of a musket butt. three more warriors coming behind and afraid to shoot lest they hit their friends, came bounding down to join the hand-to-hand struggle. in a few seconds more all would have been over but at this crucial instant the four men leading the wild scramble of the coyotes after al, caught up with him. they were wallace, and troopers will van osdel, lank hoyt, and george pike. van osdel leaped in beside al, his sabre knocking the gun clear from the hands of one of the indians, hoyt crouched and fired his carbine at another, who sunk to the ground with a grunt, and pike and wallace, giving as loud a shout as they had breath for, climbed on after the remaining warriors, who had taken to their heels. no sooner had the indians fled than van osdel turned on al. "you crazy jack-rabbit," he cried, "what are you trying to do? have you gone plumb out of your head? it's the biggest wonder ever happened you're not dead." "i saw the indian that captured my brother," returned al, dejectedly. "but he's gone now." "well," interjected hoyt, mopping his streaming face, "he came near getting two brothers, instead of one. anyhow, you've led a lovely charge. we've nearly cleared the ravine." they looked ahead. it was true. the crest of the mountain was towering above them through the trees and they were actually ascending its base, for, though al's foolhardy pursuit of te-o-kun-ko had taken hardly five minutes from the time he started until he was overtaken by his comrades, he had climbed so fast and so far that the dakota and iowa cavalry and the indian scouts, in following him had penetrated clear through the sioux camps lying above the ravine on either side. his right senses came back to al the moment he realized that he had failed in his purpose of capturing or killing te-o-kun-ko, and he knew that he ought to return at once to general sully. but he could not resist the temptation to go on now to the top of the ravine and see what was there, and he had, moreover, a lingering hope of catching another sight of te-o-kun-ko. the stragglers of the cavalry were now closing up on those who had gained the advance, and, the indians having practically given up the contest, a few moments of hard climbing brought them to the top of the ravine. an astonishing sight met their eyes. as far as they could see over the sloping ridge, the ground was covered with a city of lodges. a few had been struck and dragged away for a distance, but most of them were still standing, though deserted. over at the farther side of the camp could be seen the last of the squaws and children, flying into the bewildering maze of ravines leading up the rugged face of tahkahokuty, protected by the scattered fire of the warriors who had just been routed by the cavalry. off to the right and left, where the shells of jones and pope had but just ceased to burst, the little group of soldiers could see the columns of brackett and mclaren pouring with exultant shouts into other parts of the immense, abandoned sioux camps, while, in their own rear, the main line of battle was approaching up the ridge. though the mountain had not yet been ascended, plainly the field itself had been completely conquered, and the battle of tahkahokuty mountain, the greatest and most picturesque conflict of the american northwest, had become a part of history. al and wallace, tardily recollecting their duties, made haste in descending the ravine to find their horses and return to general sully, with such explanations as they could devise for their long absence while carrying orders to the firing line. chapter xiii beset in the bad lands on regaining the prairie, the boys found that general sully had already gone up to the sioux camps at one side of the ravine by which they had ascended. they at once followed, passing the artillery and the wagon train on the way. when they arrived they found most of the army already assembling on the farther side of the hostile camps, at the base of tahkahokuty. far up on the top of the mountain a number of indians had gathered and were firing upon the troops at very long range. although the soldiers were very much exhausted by their efforts of the afternoon and were sorely in need of food and rest, it was evident that these annoying neighbors must be dispersed before nightfall. moreover, it was known that good water was to be found somewhere near the mountain top, at the falling spring of tahkahokuty, as the indians called the spot, and since the troops were suffering for water, an advance was imperative. general sully inspected the enemy's position, then said to colonel thomas, who was with him, "colonel, do you think some of the eighth minnesota could clear those fellows out and get possession of the spring, if captain jones shells ahead of them?" "they certainly can and will, general," responded thomas. "four companies ought to be enough," continued sully. "the rest of the troops can be having mess while they are gone." "i will instruct major camp to make the advance," replied the colonel, riding away. al stepped to the general's side. "may i have permission to accompany major camp, general?" he asked. "this afternoon i came face to face with the indian who has my brother a prisoner,--te-o-kun-ko,--but he got away. i might possibly see him again up there." "the indian who has your brother?" exclaimed the general, much surprised. "how do you know?" "by the scar on his cheek and neck and by the way he looked when i called him by name," answered al. "why, in that case, of course you can go," the general replied. "but be careful; he is undoubtedly a desperate fellow. however, it isn't likely you will see him again. most of them have gotten as far away as they can by this time." then he added, "by the way, since you are going, watch for a practical path to the top for cavalry and wagons. the army may have to go up there, and i certainly shall to-morrow." al mounted cottontail and rode away. he had hardly reached major camp's detachment, which had dismounted and was deploying to the right as skirmishers, when the guns of the third minnesota battery began once more to boom. their elevating-screws had been run down to the last thread in order that the muzzles might be raised enough to throw their shells upon the overhanging mountain crest. the projectiles carried to their mark, bursting in sprays of pale, orange flame high above the topmost rocks. but they did not entirely dislodge the enemy, and after a few rounds the battery was obliged to cease firing owing to the advance of the skirmish line. up along the steep, boulder-strewn breast of tahkahokuty, through timber and underbrush, went the thin, irregular line, eagerly watched by the troops below and but feebly opposed by the warriors above. it was hard climbing, and more than once al and others in the detachment stumbled and fell over stones or tree roots. as they neared the top and came into clear view from the crest, the fire of the indians increased in intensity, though the savages continued to shoot high so that very few of the soldiers suffered. at length the cavalrymen scrambled over the last ledge, too breathless to shout in response to the hearty cheers of their comrades far below, but not too breathless to follow on a run after the sioux who had been bold enough to await their coming and still showed fight around the ravine of the falling spring. the struggle was sharp and decisive but it lasted only for a moment. a few carbines and sabres clashed with lances and muskets, then the rear guard of the sioux, unable, as always, to stand the test of hand-to-hand conflict, broke for the nearest cover behind them and disappeared in the tumbled wilderness of mountains beyond, whither their families and the bulk of their army had already gone. some deserted lodges stood around the triumphant minnesotans on the lofty eminence, but they were few in number compared to those in the vast camp below. al saw nothing of te-o-kun-ko in the handful of warriors who fled before them; and while the men were filling their canteens at the spring of cool, crystal water which burst from the rocks near at hand, he walked along the crest of the ridge, looking for a less abrupt ascent than the one they had followed. from his position, the view spread before him in the golden glow of early twilight was magnificent. far below and seemingly almost at his feet, lay the bivouac of the army. he could see the soldiers moving about, some of them still tossing their hats in enthusiasm over the success of the charge. they looked like pygmies, and the sound of their cheers came up to him faint and far away. farther out from the ridge lay the myriad dots of the sioux lodges, and beyond them, extending for miles upon miles until lost in the haze of the horizon, stretched the countless rough ranges of hills over which the army had passed in the morning. the treeless expanse of crests and slopes, lying like a tumbled green counterpane in the distance, was now as still and peaceful as if it had never known the turmoil of battle or the trample of armed men. at length al retraced his steps and joined major camp, whose men were now ready to descend to the main body, with the exception of a strong picket left to hold and patrol the mountain top. once more back at headquarters, al was not long in finishing his supper and rolling himself in his blanket. but, though weary with the exertions and excitement through which he had passed since daybreak, he lay for a while thinking over the events of the past nine hours, while one by one the sounds of the camp died away around him, and the soldiers lay down to rest. most of his thoughts were naturally of his encounter with te-o-kun-ko and the mystifying conduct of the latter. why had the yanktonais failed to shoot him when he lay there between the rocks, utterly helpless? it would have been the most natural thing in the world for an indian to do, for they seldom show mercy, especially in the heat of battle. why had that strange, bewildered expression come over the indian's face when al called him by name? and, most perplexing of all, where was tommy now? among the women and children who had fled away before the army could overtake them, or in some distant, secluded place where te-o-kun-ko had left him for safe-keeping? all these questions were utterly baffling; no amount of thinking could bring a satisfactory answer to a single one of them; and at length al, weary in body and mind, sunk into the dreamless slumber which had already enveloped his comrades on every side. the bugles were blaring out the reveille long before daylight next morning, and in a short time the army had eaten its breakfast, formed in column and was marching away by the left flank along the base of tahkahokuty, seeking a passage around or through the mountain into the country beyond, whither the enemy had fled. general sully himself went straight up to the crest by a pathway which had been discovered by al and others the previous evening, but what he saw there was extremely discouraging. as far as the eye could look to the northward the country was intersected by precipitous hills and steep ravines, some of the latter one hundred feet deep, entirely impracticable for either cavalry or wagons. the army marched for six or seven miles along the foot of the mountain without finding a route by which it could be ascended or turned, and at last the general, bearing in mind that he had rations left for only two more days, reluctantly gave the order to halt and countermarch to the abandoned sioux camps, in order that these might be destroyed before the army returned to heart river. large detachments from the second and eighth minnesota, the sixth iowa, and the dakota cavalry were at once detailed as fatigue parties and placed under command of colonel mclaren to collect and burn the lodge poles and lodge skins, the vast accumulations of dried buffalo meat and dried berries,--food which, though great in quantity, was utterly unfit for white men,--the tanned robes, clothing, cooking utensils, saddles, travois poles, and countless other articles left in the camps and the near-by ravines. thirteen companies were engaged in the task, and they spent half a day of hard work at it, when, finding that they would be unable to finish by evening, they set the woods and prairie on fire, and burned the remainder of the captured property in one great conflagration. the poles and coverings of between fourteen and sixteen hundred lodges were destroyed, being the camp equipment, so general sully estimated, of between five and six thousand warriors and their families. if correct, this meant that at tahkahokuty the sioux had assembled a greater army than they ever brought together on any other field, before or since. a little while after noon the troops began their return march, bivouacking that night about six miles from the battlefield, where they were assailed by a body of indians about dusk, but repulsed the attack easily. next day they reached knife river, and on july , by a march of thirty-five miles, regained captain tripp's camp on the heart. they found every one there safe and well; but, though no indians had been seen during the absence of the main column, both the emigrants and the camp guard were exceedingly glad to see the army back again, as it relieved them from their enforced idleness and assured the early renewal of the westward march. while the army was away, captain tripp had employed his men in digging a strong line of rifle-pits around the camp, which was now in a condition to withstand the attacks of any number of indians. the next two days were spent by the troops in resting themselves and their animals, for all were very weary from the hard marching and fighting of the past week; and by general sully in trying to determine upon the best route to follow in his further march toward the yellowstone. al was absent from headquarters during most of the time, making out commissary requisitions and returns in the wagon train, though once, on the second day, he saw general sully as the latter passed through the train with lieutenant bacon, closely inspecting the contents of each wagon. when, toward evening, he returned to headquarters, he at once asked wallace smith, who had been there continuously, what had happened during the day. "oh, the general seems to be having a lively time deciding what to do," answered wallace. "it must be a hard question. he had all the indian and half-breed scouts in here for hours to-day, questioning them about the routes to the yellowstone. all of them, excepting one, told him they knew nothing of the country due west of us, which must be terribly rough bad lands, from what they say. they declare they have never ventured into it and advised the general to return to the cannonball and then move west to the mouth of powder river and down the yellowstone to where the boats are to meet us. but that means a long, roundabout march of probably two or three weeks; so the general went and inspected the wagons to see if there were supplies enough to make it." "yes, i saw him," interrupted al. "there are just six days' full rations left now." "that's what he said when he came back," wallace continued. "he was a good deal worked up, and told the guides they must find a way for the army to march straight west from here across the little missouri. but all of them said it was impossible, except one yanktonais. he declared he had been back and forth across the bad lands of the little missouri a number of times on hunting expeditions, and he is sure he can lead the army through if some digging is done in the worst places to make a road for the wagons and artillery." "just one man?" exclaimed al. "my gracious! suppose he should lead us into a trap?" wallace shrugged his shoulders. "well, of course, he might," he agreed. "but what else can be done? there are not rations enough to last over the other route, nor even enough to take us back to fort rice. anyway, the general has decided to trust this chap and make the attempt and we shall start up heart river to-morrow morning. you know our rations are to be cut down from one-half to one-third, so as to make them last." "yes, i know," answered al. "we were issuing reduced rations this evening. i hope we are not going to run into an ambush," he added. "but there is no doubt general sully knows what he is doing; he always does." that evening the troops were paraded and heard the general's congratulatory orders on their conduct in the recent battle. soon after, they retired to rest, and it seemed that but a few moments had passed in this refreshing occupation when reveille called them up to their labors again. the advance guard soon moved out, followed by the military wagon train with strong columns of troops of the second brigade on each flank, the first brigade bringing up the rear. then with much confusion and shouting, the montana emigrant train finally got under way and moved out of the intrenched camp, leaving the latter to lie, with parapets slowly crumbling under the rains of summer and the blizzards of winter, an object of curiosity and vague uneasiness to straggling indians and prowling wolves. for three days the army pushed steadily westward up the valley of the heart, through a pleasant country whose hills often showed the outcroppings of large veins of coal. each night's camp was made in a spot well supplied with water, grass, and wood, and the men began to believe that the terrors of the country ahead, so vividly described by the indian guides, had no existence save in the imaginations of the latter. no hostiles were seen, but the column passed one camp ground, recently abandoned, which showed the sites of several hundred lodges; so no one could doubt that the stealthy enemy was still in the neighborhood and probably watching the progress of the column closely. toward evening on august , the third day of the march, the advance guard on arriving at the crest of a hill, similar to dozens of other hills they had crossed that day, suddenly came to a halt. the troops behind them could see by their gestures of excitement that they had discovered something unusual ahead. the army and the trains were halted and the general rode forward to the advance guard, accompanied by his staff. when they reached the crest of the hill and looked out beyond it, not a man spoke for a moment, though at the first glance a few uttered ejaculations of astonishment or dismay and then became silent. before them in the brilliant sunlight and lengthening shadows of late afternoon spread a scene of such weird and desolate grandeur as has few parallels in the world. six hundred feet below lay the bottom of a vast basin, apparently twenty-five or thirty miles in diameter. from rim to rim it was piled with cones and pyramids of volcanic rock or baked clay and other hills of every imaginable fantastic shape, some of the peaks rising to a level with the surrounding country and some lower, but all glowing with confused and varied color, from gray and yellow to blue and brick red. over all this huge, extinct oven of what had doubtless been, sometime in ages gone, a great coal bed which had burned out, hardly a sign of vegetation was visible save here and there a few small, straggling cedars or bushes on the barren hillsides. the place resembled strongly the ruins of some mighty, prehistoric city, but more strongly still it reminded the beholder of some of dante's vivid descriptions of the infernal regions. they bivouacked that night on the prairie and early next morning marched down into the forbidding basin, knowing not whether they would ever emerge from it alive. all day long in suffocating heat and under the glare of an almost intolerable sun they toiled forward, winding in and out through gorges with high, perpendicular walls and yawning ravines so narrow that only one wagon could pass at a time. no water could be found save a little which was bitter with alkali. a large pioneer party was in advance, grading along hillsides and filling gullies so that the wagons might pass; by nightfall the army had succeeded in covering twelve miles and found itself on the bank of the little missouri, where at least water and grass were abundant. but the expedition was literally buried in the bad lands, which, on the western side of the stream, still stretched before them in a wilderness of mountains and gorges even more forbidding than those they had already passed. fortunately no indians had yet opposed them, and many of the men, especially those in the advance and on the flanks, had found some pleasure mixed with their labor in viewing the strange and beautiful rock formations through which they passed. here were many petrified stumps and fallen trunks of trees on the tops and sides of the hills. some of them were of immense size and wonderfully preserved, showing the bark, the stumps of branches, and the age rings of the interior wood. at one place was seen what the men called a "petrified sawmill", consisting of what appeared like a pile of lumber and slabs under the edge of a hill and, close by it, a large tree, cut up into logs of exact length, such as might be found around any sawmill, but all of stone as hard as granite. in addition to the trees, many of the men found impressions of leaves in the rocks of sizes and shapes belonging to no vegetation of the present age, while others discovered the footprints of unknown animals which had once inhabited this ancient land. colonel pattee with his detachment of the seventh iowa crossed the little missouri the following morning to trace out, if possible, with the yanktonais guide, a route leading westward from the river. he was gone for some hours and, meanwhile, a few of the men seized the opportunity to take their horses outside the lines in search of better grazing. they had not been out very long when they saw a party of thirty or forty indians bearing down upon them, intent on cutting them off from camp. the soldiers were too few to think of fighting, so they fled at utmost speed, and all succeeded in getting in, though several escaped very narrowly. the attempted surprise seemed to be the signal of the indians for the beginning of a general attack on the army, for in a moment the bluffs across the river were swarming with warriors, who opened a hot fire on the camp, though at such long range that their bullets could not reach half the distance. just after they began firing, a horseman dashed out of the ravine directly beneath their position, which colonel pattee's detachment had ascended, and plunging into the river, trotted and galloped his horse across amid a great splashing of water. it was lieutenant dale, who had followed colonel pattee with an order an hour or two before. general sully met him at the river bank. "what's the matter?" he demanded, the moment the lieutenant reached him. "the seventh iowa is attacked back there two or three miles, in the hills," replied dale. "colonel pattee wants reinforcements." he had scarcely finished speaking when there arose the sound of many hurried hoof beats in the ravine from which he had just emerged. the general looked toward it with a growing smile which presently broke into a laugh as a confused crowd of cavalry rushed from the ravine and galloped furiously down to and through the river. "the seventh has evidently come after its own reinforcements, lieutenant," said he. "they must be in a hurry for them." "it looks like it," answered dale, grinning. he retired, while the leading officer of the frightened cavalry hastily explained to the general that the indians had come upon them in such a position and in such numbers that the only way they could save themselves was by instant flight. "is that so?" asked al of the lieutenant, after hearing this explanation. "no," returned dale, laughing, as he dismounted and sat down cross-legged on the ground for a moment's rest. "they were just scared, but it's no wonder. there are enough redskins around to have made it true. i believe the whole sioux nation is out in front of us there. they pretty nearly got me; tumbled a couple of ton rock down when i was coming through that ravine and just missed my horse by about six inches, and they fairly singed my hair with bullets. i guess the ball has started again." the ball had started again, sure enough, for when the army crossed the river next morning and began threading the succession of ravines and canyons which colonel pattee had traced and partially dug out the day before, it was instantly attacked by the sioux on all sides, in numbers seemingly as great as had fought at tahkahokuty. on this day detachments from the second brigade formed the advance guard, under major robert h. rose, of the second minnesota, supported by jones's battery. the rest of the second brigade guarded the army wagon train, with strong flanking parties out on each side to hold the hills and transverse valleys from which the enemy might fire upon or charge the train. behind the second brigade came the first, similarly protecting the montana emigrant train, the coyotes and two companies of the sixth iowa bringing up the rear, while pope's battery held itself ready to shell the hills or ravines whenever the enemy appeared in sufficient force to justify unlimbering the guns. the march was slow and fatiguing in the extreme. the indians, holding the tops and sides of the long succession of narrow passes or canyons through which the army must go, poured their fire down upon the troops until dislodged by the fire of the artillery or the approach of the flankers, when they would fall back to another position of like strength and repeat their tactics. the wagons, after advancing about three miles, were parked in a space where the pass opened to a somewhat greater width; while the troops, pushing on, cleared the hills to allow the fatigue parties to dig out and level some three miles more of road. then once more the unwieldy train unwound into column and crept carefully forward along the trail. the latter, in spite of the efforts of the pioneers, was often so narrow and slanting that it was all several men could do to keep the wagons from overturning and blocking the road permanently. officers and men were working together on the firing line and among the trains, coatless and dripping with sweat in a temperature of one hundred and ten degrees in the shade. their throats were parched with thirst, for the water brought from the little missouri was soon exhausted, and no more could be obtained throughout the day except at one tiny spring, to which the indians clung so stubbornly that they were only dislodged by the second minnesota after a sharp fight. attack after attack was launched on the advance guard; and when repulsed there by the steady volleys of the cavalry carbines and shells of the third minnesota battery, the warriors would concentrate and rush upon one or the other flank, if the ground was open, or else lie in concealment and fire upon it as it approached. up and down the hills in every direction the braves could be seen, riding their nimble-footed ponies along slopes so steep that it seemed even a dismounted man could not keep his footing there. toward noon a serious misfortune fell on the army in the loss of the yanktonais guide, the only man who knew the country through which they were passing. he had proved very faithful to his trust, and in his zeal to lead the march correctly, he had ventured too far to the front, where he was severely wounded in the breast, the bullet coming out under his shoulder blade. all day long the members of the general's staff were on the run, carrying orders, suggestions or cautions to the commanders of the various organizations, hurrying forward the lagging wagons and sometimes themselves becoming involved in one or another of the many skirmishes constantly blazing up among the tumbled hills. once lieutenant dale rode back to the general's position near the head of the column, with the blood running over his face from a wound in the cheek. "oh, are you badly hurt?" asked al, who happened to be there, startled and anxious. "no," the lieutenant returned, lightly, dabbing some of the blood from his cheek. "i've been back to the rear guard to tell captain miner that the redskins were getting ready to swing around on him. they did, just about as i got there, and stirred him up pretty lively, but the boys repulsed them. one fellow grazed my cheek, that's all. just look at them!" his glance swept the surrounding hills, on every one of which groups or masses of indians were to be seen. "they seem to be everywhere, and for every one killed it looks as though ten new ones sprang out of the ground." he looked at al and an ominous expression passed over his face. "have you ever heard of kabul pass?" he inquired, in a low tone. al returned his glance steadily. "yes, i have," he admitted, slowly. "it looks something like that around here, doesn't it?" the lieutenant continued. "only one man came out of kabul pass alive, you remember." "why, you're right," answered al, feeling a passing throb of foreboding. "but i think we shall do better than that," he added, hopefully. "oh, no doubt," agreed dale. "i was just thinking of the similarity of positions, that's all." in an instant his mood changed and he laughed at a sudden recollection. "i saw a funny thing back there," he chuckled. "you know the oxen those emigrants are driving are pretty well fagged out; every now and then one of them lies down and has to be exchanged for a fresh one from the herd. the rear guard has orders to shoot all the exhausted animals, so the indians won't get them. while i was back there one big ox fell over, and he was unyoked and left on the ground, looking as good as dead. but as the rear guard passed him, he heard their shots and then the yells of the redskins close behind, and he raised his head and looked at the indians. they were pushing up, hoping to catch him alive. i guess he didn't like their looks, for all at once he scrambled to his feet and made a bolt for the herd, charging right through the rear guard with his tail sticking straight out and his eyes bulging with fright. now he's travelling with the rest of the cattle and seems as well as any of them." al laughed heartily. "he ought to have a medal," he declared. "yes, he had," agreed lieutenant dale, "a leather one, anyway." a long time after noon, the walls of the canyon through which the column was marching became gradually lower, and after a while the hard-pressed troops and trains found themselves passing out of the dangerous defile upon a comparatively level plateau, higher than most of the surrounding bad lands, though it was girt on all sides by the characteristic peaks and gulches of the region. here general sully decided to make camp for the night, though he had marched only ten miles, for here had been found a little grass and a large pool of stagnant, muddy rain water, which, however, was better than none at all, and no one could tell whether any existed farther on. the troops were placed in very compact formation and the trains corralled, the emigrants a little to the east of the military camp. chapter xiv te-o-kun-ko after supper had been eaten and rations distributed for the next day, it was nearly sunset, and al and wallace sat down on the ground near general sully's tent to clean their weapons and enjoy a few minutes of welcome rest. "i never saw anything like that canyon we were in to-day," said wallace. "more than once i thought we were going to be cleaned out there, and we would have been if we'd had civilized troops to deal with." "why, of course," al answered. "civilized troops one-tenth as strong as we could have held it against us for a year. yet we've lost only eight or ten men wounded all day. the indians haven't enough staying qualities, though they have plenty of dash and are magnificent horsemen." "yes, that's true," agreed wallace. then suddenly he dropped his ram-rod and sprang to his feet. "look there!" he exclaimed. "are they going to try some more of their dash this evening, after all they've done to-day?" the dry expanse of prairie where the camp lay, sloped gradually up to the eastward, terminating in a ridge at a distance of about a mile from the camp. over the crest of this ridge a throng of sioux warriors was now galloping, much as they had come over that other ridge at the opening of the battle of tahkahokuty. the emigrant camp lay nearest to them, and here a great confusion and panic immediately arose, and women and children began to emerge from the corral and run toward the military camp, shrieking and calling piteously for help. without waiting for orders scores of soldiers seized their weapons and rushed out across the prairie toward the fugitives, many of whom, as soon as they were within the lines, fell to the ground exhausted or weeping hysterically. the soldiers, once started, continued their advance on the enemy, the swiftest runners distancing the rest. the indians halted and fired, then seeing that their antagonists were not checked, began sullenly to retire, not even hastening much from the shells of the cannon, which had opened along the eastern edge of the camp. so the retreat and pursuit continued to the crest of the ridge, where the indians went out of sight into the bad lands just beyond. al and wallace, who had run out at the first alarm, presently found themselves, in company with one of the sioux guides and a couple of soldiers of the sixth iowa, on the edge of the ridge with a deep, narrow valley before them, bounded on its farther side by four hillocks, or small buttes, shaped like sugar loaves and each separated from the next by crooked gullies, washed deep by rains. at the left end of this series of buttes lay a long, open space, entirely bare of vegetation, apparently extending around behind them. not an indian was in sight, but wallace suggested, "i believe some of the redskins are hiding behind those buttes. let's surprise them. i'll tell you what we can do. you fellows," he addressed the two cavalrymen, "stay here and the rest of us will go back a little way and then sneak around and down across that open space and get in behind the flank of the buttes. if there are any indians there, we can shoot them before they can get away." "but there may be a lot of them," objected one of the troopers, "and they'll clean you out." "no," declared wallace, with conviction. "it's only a little way across, and if there are too many of them we can run back while you cover us with your fire. besides, lots of the boys are near by." this was true; a number of soldiers were still a short distance back on the plateau. "what do you think of it?" asked al, turning to the sioux guide, who happened to be one who could speak english, as well as his own tongue. "good," said the indian. "i go." "come on, then," urged wallace, who seemed determined to have an adventure if possible. followed by al and the guide he walked back across the prairie until the ridge hid them from view of any watchers who might be on the buttes. the two troopers, meanwhile, lay down on the edge of the ridge to wait developments. as soon as they were out of sight of the buttes, the boys turned north and ran for some distance, then swinging east again regained the edge of the ridge opposite the open ground below. here they could not be seen from any except the northernmost butte and, hastening down the slope, they ran across to the base of this butte and around to its farther side. looking up, they saw two indians lying behind the top of the next adjoining eminence, peeping over at the two soldiers across the valley. simultaneously the three adventurers fired. the head of one of the warriors dropped between his outstretched arms and he lay still without a struggle. his companion sprang to his feet, cast one terrified glance at the unexpected assailants below him and leaped with a few long bounds down the steep slope into the ravine at its base and around the third butte, where he disappeared. al and wallace gave a shout, in which the indian scout joined, and al ran on in the direction taken by the warrior, followed by wallace. but the scout hesitated. "maybe better go back now, eh?" he called. "oh, no; come on!" al shouted back. "we can get out anywhere and we've got him on the run." the scout said no more, but followed. they passed the ravine and the base of the next butte, and came to the gully between that and the fourth and last eminence to the south. from this eminence a little ridge ran eastward out across the open ground. as they came toward it an indian rose half his height behind it, then, seeing them, dropped down again. al ran to the left to get around behind him, and, as he did so, wallace and the scout both saw another warrior, farther up on the fourth butte, stand erect and aim at him. "look out, al!" shouted wallace. "drop, briscoe!" cried the guide at the same instant, and al instinctively flung himself full length upon the ground just as the indian fired. the bullet passed over him; but at this moment wallace noticed still another hostile raise his head above the ridge and look eagerly toward al. he had no time to interpret the glance, but the thought came to him that more indians were showing themselves than he had expected, and he cried, "come on out, boys! they're getting too thick." followed by his companions, he sprang into the gully close at hand, expecting to see the valley beyond and the prairie ridge where the two iowa soldiers were lying. but, instead, a few yards up the trench-like gulch he came to a sharp turn. as he rounded it, he caught a glimpse of several indians crouching down a little farther on, their guns cocked and ready, and he dodged back again, almost colliding with al and the scout, behind him. "i guess we're goners," he exclaimed, as he heard the swift patter of moccasined feet behind and on the edges of the gully above them. "oh, what an idiot i was to get you fellows and myself into this. it's my fault." "no, it isn't, wallace," declared al. "it's mine. if i'd minded this scout, we'd have gotten back all right." but at this moment, which it seemed evident must be their last, they heard a deep, commanding voice speak a few rapid words in the sioux tongue, and the sound of footsteps ceased. "they're going to rush us," whispered al, his voice shaking but his eyes still courageous. "let's give them all the shots we can and then kill ourselves. good-bye, wallace, old man,--and good-bye, mother, and annie, and tommy," he added, to himself. thoroughly expecting death within a few seconds, he could hardly believe his ears when he heard the same deep, masterful voice which had halted their pursuers, say, loudly, "al briscoe! al briscoe!" al, shaking and pale, looked at his companions, too amazed and bewildered even to hear the sioux words, unintelligible to him, which followed his name. the mere utterance of the latter, in such a place and under such circumstances, was of itself ominous and terrifying enough to chill his blood, for it seemed to single him out from his companions for some special and horrible fate. but the sioux scout looked at him solemnly. "you understand?" he asked. "no," answered al, shuddering. "he say, 'al briscoe, i, te-o-kun-ko, want talk with you.'" "te-o-kun-ko?" exclaimed al, his strength coming back to him at that familiar name. "indeed, yes. if he does kill me, i shall at least find out first." he prepared to scramble up the side of the gully, but the scout restrained him. "no go till he say he not kill," said he. "ask him," al replied. the scout called out the question in sioux and te-o-kun-ko answered, a note of surprise and satisfaction in his voice. the scout himself looked relieved. "he say, 'you got interpreter. good!'" he repeated. "he say, 'come up and bring him. we no kill.'" there was nothing else to do, so the three scrambled to the top of the gully, wallace bringing up the rear. when he had regained his feet, al saw confronting him the superbly handsome figure of his brother's captor, the muscles of his arms, the curve of his deep chest, his proudly poised head, and eagle-like features, all mellowed and harmonized in the soft glow of early twilight, until he looked more like a bronze statue than a human being. the indian was leaning on a long rifle and he wore a short tunic, buckskin leggings, and moccasins, all heavily embroidered with brilliant bead work, while a splendid war bonnet of brightly colored feathers hung from his head nearly to the ground. a handsome necklace of bears' claws, fastened around his neck and depending over his massive chest, completed a costume of savage magnificence strikingly becoming to this lord of the prairies. a few feet behind him stood a dozen or more warriors, their guns lying across their arms. they were as silent and motionless as te-o-kun-ko, but the glances of sullen animosity which they flashed at al and his companions showed clearly enough that it was only the strong hand of their leader which restrained them from instantly slaying the white boys and their indian comrade. te-o-kun-ko did not move as his three involuntary guests came up before him but, leaning on his rifle, he regarded al with a gaze so keen and steadfast that the latter's eyes wavered, and to break the silence he said, "how." "how, al briscoe," replied the indian, still without moving. a rush of indignation suddenly swept over al as he remembered who this man was. "ask him," said he, sharply, to the scout, "where my brother is." he was determined to learn at least this much before anything could happen to prevent. the question was repeated, but te-o-kun-ko did not reply immediately. at length he said, through the interpreter, "you are bold for a boy, al briscoe. do you hold your life of no value that you demand your brother now, when you are in my power?" "i hold his life of more value than my own, te-o-kun-ko," replied al, stoutly. "would you not feel the same for your brother?" the indian flashed a look at him which seemed almost one of sympathy. "yes," said he, and paused. presently he went on, "if you were not brave you would not be worthy of such a brother. but i knew that you were brave the day i took him from you beyond the yellow medicine, and i knew it better eleven suns ago when you came after me like a hungry wolf under the shadow of tahkahokuty. so i will tell you." he paused again, as if reflecting, then continued in the following words, uttering them deliberately, and they were interpreted, phrase after phrase, by the sioux scout: "your brother was such a one as should have been an indian, and so i thought to make him. he fears neither the darkness nor the flood nor the lightning, the buffalo stampede nor the rush and shouting of armed men. no lad of my tribe can shoot straighter than he and he rides a horse as the gray goose rides the north wind. he learned our speech more quickly than a cheyenne, of our own race, could have learned it, and he came to love our life; i know, for he told me so, often. and he loved me, who sought to be as his father, and my squaw, techon-su-mons-ka (the sandbar), and his foster brothers and sisters, mah-to-che-ga (the little bear), ka-pes-ka-da (the shell), and mong-shong-sha (the bending willow). your brother himself i called pah-ta-ustah (fire eyes), and so the tribe will ever know him. "but even after i came to be chief of my band, twelve moons ago, when the old chief was killed in battle with the crows beyond the river where the elks drink (the yellowstone), he would talk to me of his own people. he would talk of his father and mother and you, al briscoe, and of a girl papoose he called annie, and of the place where he once lived, far in the south, where there is more forest than prairie, and where many trees bear upon their branches red and yellow fruit larger than the largest plums we know. many and many a time i have talked with him of those things in the hours when the sun has gone to sleep and the tepee fires wink back at the stars. and since he grieved always for those who had been his family, and since i knew that i had been one to stand by while his father was killed (which was a bad deed and hurt my heart) it came to me at last that i must put him in the way to go back to his own people. it is true, too, that the life of the indian is not now, and never will be any more, what it was in the past. our days are numbered in the land of our fathers, and those who are young among us have little to look forward to." te-o-kun-ko spoke the last sentences sadly, looking far off into the yellow western sky as if he saw there visions of the last refuge of his race. then he threw back his head and concluded, abruptly, "so i took him southward and one moon ago i left him at the trading post above the mouth of the wak-pah-shika (bad river), which is called fort la framboise. then i sped back to bear my part in the battle against your army." "what?" exclaimed al, in great excitement, stepping close to te-o-kun-ko as the scout interpreted his last sentences, "you took him to fort la framboise? he is there now?" the indian inclined his head slowly. "yes," he replied, "if he has not already gone to the southward." al pressed his hand to his brow. his mind was in a whirl of bewilderment. "tommy at fort la framboise, and i here!" he exclaimed aloud, but speaking only to himself. "what shall i do now?" then another idea occurred to him. "how do i know this is true?" he demanded, bold beyond discretion in his anxiety and satisfied, anyway, that he and his companions would be killed at the end of the interview. "perhaps you still have him; perhaps he is dead." but the indian ignored the reflection upon his honesty. "i tell you the truth, al briscoe," he asserted, solemnly. he spoke al's full name always, as if it were one word, as he doubtless thought it was. then he lifted the necklace of bear's claws hanging around his neck and held it toward al. at the bottom of it, between the two largest claws, was fastened a small ring of chased gold, its surface much worn, which al instantly recognized as tommy's. "this he gave to me when i left him at fort la framboise," said he, "as a keepsake and a promise. and the promise was that he would come back some day, either to stay or to visit us, who are his sioux kindred." "so?" replied al. he was beginning to realize dimly that tommy must have had some very good reasons for his attachment to this magnificent warrior and his family, for he could hardly doubt longer the truth of what te-o-kun-ko was telling him. the circumstances under which they were speaking together were not such as to tempt the indian to deceit or apologies; for he was certainly master of the situation, and could either seize or kill al and those with him whenever he wished. there was a moment's silence. then te-o-kun-ko stepped back and laid his rifle across his arm. "you may go now, al briscoe," he said; "you and those with you." "what?" cried al, who had dared expect nothing but death. "you are going to spare our lives?" "you may go in peace," responded the sioux. "i do it for the sake of pah-ta-ustah. tell him so when you see him." he stopped a moment, as if seeking words in which to express some oppressive thought. then he went on, "your brother, al briscoe, knows not that his father is dead. i lacked ever the heart to tell him. but when you do so, tell him, likewise, that i, te-o-kun-ko, have none of his blood on my hands. i fired no shot on that day at the place where you lived, though i did enough in all the time we were killing and burning along the minnesota. my thoughts were on fire with the madness of slaughter, as were those of all who were there. since then my mind has cleared and i know that the things which we did to the whites in minnesota were bad; bad clear through. but we have been paying for them ever since; we are paying now, and is not the price even yet great enough? you have killed two, yes, four, of our men and women and children, for every one that we slew over there. you have burned our lodges and our robes and our winter meat; we shall starve and freeze in the time of snows which is soon to come. but it is the price, and we are paying." a sudden impulse, mingled of admiration, gratitude and pity, seized al toward this strange savage, so proud and yet so humble; so cold and yet so generous. he stepped forward and held out his hand. "will you not come in with us, te-o-kun-ko?" he asked, "and make your peace with the great father? why fight any longer? can you not see that it is hopeless; that the red men can never prevail against the power and the numbers of the whites?" the chief ignored the friendly, outstretched hand, but he looked at al frankly, even though defiantly. "no, al briscoe," he made answer, firmly. "you and i are enemies. and while my people have strength left to fight the white men, we will be enemies. i know that what you say is true, though many of my people will not yet believe it. the whites will conquer in the end and take from us the last of this, our great, free, beautiful land to which they have no right except the right of being strong enough. but at least the indian can fight to the end and die as a warrior should, with his face toward his foes, while his soul goes up in the battle smoke to the happy hunting grounds of wakon tonka (the great spirit). no, al briscoe, i have no friend among the white men save only pah-ta-ustah, your brother. go quickly, for when you are on the prairie once more, i shall hold back my braves no longer, and you will be killed if you delay or come back. go!" "come on," said al in a low tone to his companions. they turned and walked rapidly along the base of the butte toward the narrow valley west of it. as they passed its farther side, al looked back. te-o-kun-ko still stood as they had left him, a shadowy figure in the gathering dusk, regarding them with haughty attention, his rifle across his left arm. only now his right hand was raised in a restraining gesture against his followers, who were crowding up behind him, cocking their guns and cursing in tones which grew rapidly louder and more threatening as they looked after their escaping victims. passing behind an angle of rock, al exclaimed, "run! he can't hold them much longer!" the three dashed across the narrow valley at top speed and almost as rapidly scrambled up the steep slope to the prairie, where they encountered the two cavalrymen, pale and excited. "good god, where have you been?" ejaculated one of the soldiers. "we thought you were killed or captured. there hasn't been a shot for twenty minutes." "no, but there will be in about twenty seconds," al responded. "come, come! keep running." away they went toward the camp, hastened by a chorus of fierce war whoops from the valley and then by the patter of shots as a number of te-o-kun-ko's warriors came over the edge of the prairie a hundred yards behind and raced after them. the bullets, however, sang harmlessly by and in a moment half a hundred of their own men, hearing the firing, came running to their rescue; whereupon the sioux gave up the chase and fell back into the bad lands as night descended. the three self-appointed raiders returned to camp, wallace and the indian scout with feelings of unmixed delight and thanksgiving over their escape, al with several new problems to perplex him. he had been greatly relieved by te-o-kun-ko's statements concerning tommy's devotion to the memory of his family, which showed that the little boy's strength of affection had prevailed over what must have been a very great liking for the life of the indians. but, though the persistence of this affection on tommy's part had finally induced his captor to give him his liberty, al could by no means feel sure that such liberty might not be more dangerous for his brother than captivity had been. had he been surrendered to the army, or at an army post, al would have felt no anxiety, for he would have known that the boy would receive the best of care and be sent to his home safe and as promptly as possible. but what would such a mere child do among the hardened trappers and frontiersmen of fort la framboise, which al knew was nothing more than a small trading-post of la barge, harkness and company, fur traders of st. louis? tommy could have no idea of where his relatives were now and would be more likely to try to reach minnesota than any other place. moreover, if started off by the traders in that direction or even on a steamboat toward st. louis, he knew nothing of travelling and might easily go astray or fall into dangerous company. al lay awake for a long time that night thinking over these problems and decided that next day he would talk them over with general sully and ask his advice. but at daylight the movement of the army into column brought on an immediate renewal of the enemy's resistance; and for many hours, until the middle of the afternoon, the battle continued as hotly contested as on the previous day. neither the general nor al himself had a moment to think of anything except the gigantic task of repelling the indian attacks. just before noon, wallace was riding in from the left flank, where he had delivered a message to major brackett, when he was struck in the left arm, between shoulder and elbow, by a stray bullet. the wound soon became very painful and wallace was obliged to dismount and go into an ambulance, where a surgeon extracted the bullet and made him as comfortable as possible. but al, much as he was grieved over his friend's misfortune, could barely find time to spend a moment with him before hurrying back to his own pressing duties. about mid-afternoon the country began to grow more level and the marching easier. the indians, apparently discouraged, gradually ceased their attacks and at length the advance guard, mounting a rise from which a wide extent of country was visible in front, saw the last of the hostile army, several miles away to the southward, disappearing in a cloud of dust. hearty cheers arose from the whole army as the good news spread, for it was clear the final victory was won. a short halt was ordered and while it lasted the two bands with the minnesota brigade, one silver and the other brass, vied with each other in playing triumphant and patriotic airs, to the great delight of the men, who fully believed that the worst of their hardships were now over. but, unfortunately, experiences were yet in store for them not less distressing than those they had already passed through, though somewhat different in character. chapter xv in the wake of the grasshoppers after the halt, the march was resumed, as the general wished to push on to the yellowstone as fast as possible and three or four hours of daylight could not be wasted lying in camp. the trains were now able to straighten out and move with less confusion and delay; and the troops, though still retaining their defensive formation, ready to repel any sudden attack, found it possible to draw in the flanks and advance more rapidly. presently, as all the different elements of the army settled into a steady, methodical march, al found a chance to speak to general sully of the news he had heard of tommy, so adventurously gained and so surprising in itself. the general listened with lively interest. "well," said he, when al had concluded his account of his encounter with te-o-kun-ko, "you certainly had a very unusual experience. this te-o-kun-ko must be a remarkable indian to have let you go, once he had you. almost any indian, particularly a sioux, would have shot all of you at such a time, or else have tied you to stakes and tortured you. i wish he could be induced to come in. such a man could be made very useful in bringing the rest of the nation to peace. as for your brother, assuming that this indian has given you a straight story, it is hard to tell whether he may still be at fort la framboise or not. you know that trading post is only a short distance above fort sully and the traders may have taken him down and turned him over to colonel bartlett. again, they may have placed him on some downward bound boat for st. louis. but my guess would be that he is still at fort la framboise and that the traders are waiting for the return of my expedition so that the minnesota troops can take him with them to fort ridgely." "then what do you think i had better do, general sully?" inquired al. his commander meditated a moment. "well, my boy," he began, "i am not anxious that you should leave me; i have enjoyed having you with us through this expedition, and i don't exaggerate when i say that you have made yourself as useful as any of my regular staff officers, and have been as courageous in conduct and as uncomplaining under hardships as any soldier could be,--probably more courageous than necessary, though that is never a condemnable fault. but my judgment is that, since you are in this country primarily to find your brother, your proper course will be to get to fort la framboise as soon as possible. when we reach the yellowstone you will probably be able to go on ahead of the army to fort union, on the missouri, where, no doubt, you can soon catch a boat downward bound from fort benton which will take you to fort la framboise in a few days." al was deeply gratified by his commander's words of praise, the more so since general sully was not a man given to flattery nor to the bestowal of undue praise upon his subordinates. he very much disliked the idea of leaving the army and his many friends in it before the conclusion of the campaign, but he felt that the general was right. indeed, it had been his opinion ever since his conversation with te-o-kun-ko that he ought to get to fort la framboise as soon as he could, but he had also felt that he owed it to general sully to await the latter's opinion and be governed by it, and he was glad to find that this opinion agreed with his own. as the army advanced westward, the country became more sterile rather than less so. it was evident that there had been no rain in this region for a long time and whatever grass had ever grown there had, moreover, been eaten off right down to the roots by a plague of grasshoppers. these insects, moving across the country in vast multitudes, often caused widespread devastation all over the west in early days, and many a pioneer farmer saw his entire crop of corn, small grain, and vegetables utterly destroyed in a single day by the ravenous pests while he stood by, helpless to protect or save the fruits of his year of hard work. in the case of the northwestern indian expedition, the visitation of the grasshoppers, together with lack of water, entailed untold suffering upon the thousands of animals with the column. hardly any corn or grain was left; and the poor beasts, enfeebled by their weeks of hard, hot marching, generally with insufficient food and water, were becoming mere skeletons, hardly able to keep moving. the night of august , which had witnessed the end of the battle of the little missouri, as the fight in the bad lands came to be called, found the army camping beside the bed of a dry creek; and each man lay down to sleep after a supper consisting of one cracker and a bit of bacon, with nothing to drink, while the horses had neither food nor water. the two following days were more like nightmares than realities. most of the mules and oxen of the two wagon trains contrived to stagger along somehow. but one by one the worn-out cavalry horses began to succumb. when they could keep up no longer, their riders would shoot them to end their sufferings; and all along the dreary miles of white, dusty alkali plains, sprinkled here and there with sparse growths of sage brush or cactus, the wake of the army was dotted with the bodies of scores of the poor, dumb victims of starvation and thirst. by this time nearly all the men were walking and leading their horses, in order to save the latter as much as possible. so passed the first heart-sickening day after the close of the indian attacks; and as darkness fell at the end of a torturing march of thirty-two miles, the troops sunk down upon the brink of a lake of clear, sparkling water, so bitter with alkali that neither man nor beast could do more than taste it and then feast his aching eyes on its delusive, poisonous beauty. the victorious army, which had conquered all its human foes, seemed like to perish miserably under the rigors of inhospitable nature. despite his own sufferings, al had one satisfaction, which was that cottontail kept up much better than most of the horses of the expedition. the fact that he was a tough, sturdy little animal by nature had something to do with his good condition; yet al knew that the care he had given the horse throughout the campaign had been chiefly responsible for bringing him into the present crisis in a state to withstand its hardships; for he had never failed to supply cottontail with water and grass whenever opportunity offered, even at the cost of his own rest or comfort. yet even cottontail had become so desperate with thirst by the second night of the desert march that he pawed and neighed and stamped the whole night through. as every other animal was doing the same thing, the camp was in an uproar of misery, and few of the men could sleep for sympathy with their suffering four-footed comrades. dawn came at last, after hours of darkness which seemed long as eternity, and the suffering caravan crept on. the guides had assured general sully that he could reach the yellowstone that day, and about four o'clock in the afternoon the advance guard suddenly broke into confusion, and those behind them saw the men toss their hats in the air, while the sound of cheers and carbine shots came back to their ears. the yellowstone was in sight, though still several miles off, and across the wide, flat valley could be seen the groves of green cottonwoods along its banks with the strong, swift current of the river beyond, shining bright and beckoning in the sunlight. with an inrush of new vitality the whole column surged forward, and the drivers of the mule teams were hardly able to restrain the poor animals as they struggled to run forward into the stream. the general and his officers, declining, as they always did, to accept any advantage over the men afforded by their position, held back their own horses and allowed the trains and the troops to reach the river first. al, mounting cottontail for the first time in two days, rode back to the ambulance in which wallace lay, and secured his canteen, as well as those of the driver and of two other wounded men who were riding with him. hurrying, then, to the river he threw cottontail's reins over his head and left him to drink, filled the canteens, and ran back to meet the ambulance. then, after wallace had drunk, he took from the latter's canteen his own first deep swallow of the cool, life-restoring water. there was no more marching for that day. men and animals had indulged too freely in the luxury of water to be fit for any more immediate exertion. the army went into camp and every one took a bath, for the first time in weeks, and washed out his clothing, soiled and stiffened with perspiration and dirt. but the arrival at the river had not relieved the situation with regard to forage, for the grasshoppers had cleaned off the grass right up to the banks of the yellowstone. the soldiers, however, went in crowds into the cottonwood groves where they cut armfuls of branches and leaves and brought to their horses, who ate ravenously of these not unpalatable substitutes for grass. the expected steamboats were not in sight, but the cannon soon began to boom at intervals, signalling the army's arrival to the steamers, if the latter were anywhere near. and then, just before sunset, a heavy column of smoke appeared, rising above the tree tops up river. it could come from nothing but steamboats. "they evidently expected us to strike the river farther up," said general sully, as he and a number of other officers assembled on the bank, anxiously watching the bend above for the first sight of the boats. "it's fortunate they were within sound of the guns or i should have had to send scouts to look for them." in a few moments the bow of the first steamer emerged from behind the timber point, and then appeared her tall smoke stacks, with the little pilot-house between them, towering above the dazzling white woodwork of her cabins. "the _chippewa falls_!" exclaimed every one in a breath, as she steamed majestically into full view. close behind her came the alone and then the spectators watched the bend for the third steamer, the old _island city_, so pleasantly remembered by the staff officers. but she did not appear; and shortly the _chippewa falls_ glided up to the bank and a landing plank was thrown out. general sully stepped aboard and heartily grasped the hand of captain hutchison, saying, "i am delighted to see you, captain. we are badly in need of you. how long have you been waiting for us?" "ten days," replied captain hutchison, broadly smiling his pleasure at seeing the army after his tedious days of expectation. "so long? i congratulate you on your quick trip up this unknown river," said the general. "rea, back here with the _alone_, and i, have been the first to navigate it," replied the captain, with a little pardonable pride. "rea and you?" exclaimed the general, anxiously. "where is lamont with the _island city_?" "i'm sorry to tell you, general sully," returned captain hutchison, "that the _island city_ struck a snag a couple of miles below the mouth of the yellowstone on the evening we were entering. she sank very quickly and boat and cargo are a total loss, though lamont is trying to get the engines out of her and hopes that one of the boats coming down from fort benton will take them on board and carry them to st. louis for him." general sully and his officers stood aghast at this disastrous piece of news. finally the assistant adjutant general, captain pell, spoke up. "that puts us in fine shape," he lamented. "she had nearly all the corn, didn't she?" "fifty thousand pounds," replied general sully, looking very much chagrined. "and most of the barrelled pork, and the building materials for the post on the yellowstone. we shall have to give up building that this year. how much corn have you aboard, captain?" he asked, addressing captain hutchison. "very little; three or four thousand pounds," the other replied. "the _alone_ has about the same." "enough for about one feed for all the stock in the command," said the general. "we shall have to pull out for fort union as quickly as possible." "yes, sir," captain hutchison interrupted; "and not only on account of your troops and animals, but on account of the boats. the river is falling very fast and i doubt if we can get over the shoals below here now without lightening the boats and double-tripping, or else using the army wagons to haul cargo around the shallow places." "well, we shall have to cross the river in the morning and march down at once," said the general, with a sigh as he thought of the plans he would have to forego on account of this unexpected misfortune. "meanwhile my commissary and his assistant--" he indicated lieutenant bacon and al,--"will issue rations to the troops for to-morrow's use from your boat." the general went ashore to greet captain rea, whose boat had now tied up to the bank, and the lieutenant and al went to work checking out provisions. it was al's last experience as commissary's assistant, for when he returned to camp the general said to him: "i think now will be your best opportunity for getting to fort la framboise promptly. you can go down with captain lamont if he takes a fort benton boat; and you had better start early in the morning so as not to miss him. the distance is about fifty miles and you can probably reach fort union to-morrow night. the fort is directly opposite the mouth of the yellowstone, you know. i will give you a letter to the commanding officer advising him that the army will arrive there in the course of the next three or four days, and i will send an escort with you in case you should encounter indians." al spent the evening in going about the camp and bidding good-bye to his many friends in the various commands, especially in the dakota cavalry, the eighth minnesota, and the sixth iowa. the coyotes crowded around him as if he were one of their own number, and captain miner said to him, "when you reach eighteen, come back to dakota and enlist with us. i want such recruits as you." and corporal wright added, "don't go after any more redskins the way you did at tahkahokuty; for if the coyotes aren't around, you'll lose your hair." "i'll try to keep it on, charlie," replied al, laughing. "and, meantime, you fellows want to remember when you go into action that you're not the whole line of battle, or some of you may suddenly get bald, too." his last visit was to wallace smith and it had a result both surprising and pleasant. "i wish i could go with you, al," said wallace, feeling of his stiff, bandaged arm disgustedly. "it's awfully tiresome dragging around in an ambulance, away from the boys and not able to do anything. and doctor freeman tells me i shall not be fit for duty for at least three months; so, though i can use my right arm perfectly and feel as well as i ever did in my life, i suppose i'll have to be on the sick list all the time until the second brigade gets back to minnesota." al looked at his friend steadily for a moment while an idea rapidly evolved itself in his mind. "well, why not go with me?" he asked at length. "if you're to be laid up for three months, anyway, you're entitled to sick furlough for that long. yet you can ride, and shoot a revolver, and get around all right, and you can reach minnesota in ninety days more comfortably for yourself and with less trouble to the army and the hospital corps by going on a boat to st. louis and then up the mississippi to st. paul, than you can by marching overland with the column." wallace's eyes and mouth opened wide with sheer astonishment at the brilliance of this plan. "you're a genius, al," he exclaimed. "i believe it can be done, too. it's against my principles to play off and i wouldn't think of trying to get away if it wasn't plain that i'm perfectly useless here for the rest of the season. but it will be bully if i can go down with you. let's hunt up doctor freeman." they found the doctor, who was medical director of the army, at headquarters. he at once gave his approval to the plan and wrote a recommendation to colonel thomas that private wallace smith, of the eighth minnesota volunteer infantry, be given a ninety-day furlough. colonel thomas was quickly found, and in five minutes the furlough was issued, authorizing wallace to be absent from his regiment until november , and to report for duty on or before that date at fort ridgely, minnesota. next morning just after daybreak al and wallace, accompanied by twelve cavalrymen under a sergeant, boarded one of the steamers, which were already busy ferrying troops and wagons across the river. here al bade farewell to lieutenant dale and the other staff officers who had been his closest companions for so long. general sully, as always devoting his personal attention to the care of his troops, was on the bank, directing the passage of the river. he handed al the letter to the captain of company i, thirtieth wisconsin infantry, commanding at fort union, and shook hands with him heartily. "i am sorry to be leaving the expedition so abruptly, general," said al. "i wish i could stay with you until the campaign is finished." "you won't miss much," returned the general. "the campaign is virtually over now and we shall be getting down to fort rice as rapidly as possible. we will march for fort union from here as soon as we are rid of these emigrants, who will go on alone to the gold fields after we have taken them across the river on the boats." then he continued, kindly, "i wish you the best of success in finding your brother, my boy. i hope we shall meet again, and if you decide to try for west point and i can help you in any way, let me know. take care of yourself, now, and don't indulge too much in your weakness for getting into ticklish places. good-bye!" chapter xvi adrift in a barge once across the yellowstone, the little party set out at a good pace, for they had a long, hard day's journey before them. they found the country as destitute of grass as it had been west of the little missouri, and the ground seemed to have been fairly burned to powdery dust by the sun. as they travelled over the desolate country, they often thought pityingly of the troops behind them, who would have to traverse it much more slowly than they were doing and would, therefore, feel its discomforts more keenly. but, at least, the army would be near the river, so there would be no more such suffering from thirst as had been experienced in the terrible march out of the bad lands. not an indian was seen during the day; and the party, dusty and weary, rode up to the bank of the missouri after nightfall. it was too wide and dangerous a stream to cross in the darkness; so bivouac was made until morning, and then, in response to signals, several skiffs put off from fort union and came over. some of the soldiers stripped and, putting their clothing and equipments in the boats, swam across the river on their horses, but al and wallace, as well as most of the men, rode over in the boats, holding the bridles of their horses and letting them swim behind. on entering fort union, al delivered his letter and then inquired for captain lamont. "he is still down at the wreck of his steamer, about two miles below here," the commanding officer informed him. "but if you are going down with him, you have arrived just in the nick of time. the steamer _belle peoria_ came down yesterday from benton, and she is taking on the engines of the _island city_ now. you had better get right down there or they may leave without you." al and wallace galloped off down river at once, accompanied by two cavalrymen of their late escort to bring back their horses. leaving so hastily gave them time for only a glance at fort union, though they sincerely wished for an opportunity to examine it more closely, for it was an interesting, and in that wilderness land, even an imposing structure. built in as the then most advanced trading post of the american fur company, it had become in later years the centre of the fur trade of a vast territory, extending from the rocky mountains to the british line. it was larger and more substantially built than any other trading fort in the american west, and those who had seen them declared that no post of the hudson's bay company in the british possessions compared with it. its stockade was two hundred and forty by two hundred and twenty feet in size, built of massive timbers and flanked by two large stone bastions, well armed with cannon, while several of its numerous interior buildings were also of stone. george catlin, the distinguished artist who travelled all over the new world in making up his great collection of paintings of the american indians, had visited the fort in ; maximilian, prince of neuwied, the distinguished austrian naturalist, had been there in ; and in the equally famous american naturalist, john james audubon, had made the post his headquarters for some time. but when al and wallace passed through it, the days of the old establishment were numbered; two years later it was to be dismantled, the new army post of fort buford, two miles below and nearly opposite the spot where the _island city_ had sunk, taking its place as a military establishment. the boys had not ridden far across the bottom, which was partly timbered and partly open grass land, when they saw the wreck of the steamer, lying out beyond a shore bar, her smoke stacks and upper works protruding above the water. the _belle peoria_ was moored beside her and men could be seen working on both vessels. al breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that they were not too late. riding on across the bar, the boys were soon at the water's edge and about one hundred feet from the steamers. in answer to their shouts a small boat immediately put off from the _belle peoria_ and came over for them. it was with the regret of parting from an old friend that al for the last time caressed the rough neck and soft nose of cottontail, who had borne him so faithfully through many perils and privations. the little horse nuzzled al's cheek affectionately, as if he realized that they were bidding each other good-bye; then, with a strong hand-clasp from each of the soldiers, the boys stepped into the yawl and were rowed to the _belle peoria_. it did not take long to explain to captain lamont their object in coming, and he seemed heartily glad of their company. "you didn't get here any too soon," said he. "we shall be off in an hour. when we get to fort la framboise i have no doubt the captain of the _belle_ will stop long enough for you to find out if your brother is there, al, and if he is, we can all go on together to st. louis." the _belle peoria_ was under way at the expected time. though the water was quite low, her pilots were skilful and knew the river so thoroughly that for some time she met with no unusual delays. after their months of strenuous campaigning it was pleasant for the boys to lounge about on the steamer's decks with nothing to do except watch the interweaving ripples of the river's surface, the occasional bitterns and cranes which flopped up from the lonely sandbars and sailed slowly away as the boat approached, and the rise and fall of the endless succession of bluffs along the shores. in a few weeks the northwestern indian expedition would be following the crests of the northward bluffs on its way to fort rice, where it would break up; the second brigade, with the exceptions of garrisons left at fort rice and fort berthold, returning to minnesota; while the first brigade would go on down to fort sully, fort randall, and sioux city. after the crushing defeats which had been administered to the indians at tahkahokuty and the little missouri, it did not seem that steamboats on the missouri ought to be in much danger from them; but the people on the _belle peoria_--both the members of her own crew and those of the _island city_--knew that undoubtedly many hostiles had scattered from the broken sioux camps who might be encountered anywhere along the river, eager for a chance to waylay a steamboat and slaughter a few of her crew in revenge for their own recent losses in battle. so, in laying the steamer up for the night, the men always "sparred her off" from the bank by setting long poles between the gunwale and the shore, so that she could not be boarded; or, if a mid-channel sandbar was convenient, with water on both sides of it, she would be moored there. such precautions served well enough for night, but in the daytime the boat had to take her chances in following the channel close in against one shore or the other. on the third day out from the yellowstone the boat passed fort berthold, a fur trading post and the agency of the arickaree and mandan indians, about midway between fort union and fort rice. for some hours afterward she continued running at a good speed, and at length passed a little below a beautiful forest on the left shore, called the painted woods. at this point there was a large sandbar in the middle of the river, while on the bank opposite to the woods the bluffs came sheer up to the river, and the pilot naturally chose the branch of the stream along their base, as the main channel will usually follow along a bluff bank. but in this case he soon found he had made a mistake, for he ran the boat into a pocket and could go no farther. there remained nothing to do but send out the yawl to sound through the other branch and find out if there was enough water there to carry the boat. it occurred to al that it would be a pleasant diversion to accompany the yawl, so he volunteered to pull one of the oars, and was accepted. the mate of the _belle peoria_, who was in charge of the yawl, ran into the other chute and soon found the channel; whereupon he signalled across the bar to the steamer, and while she was backing out and coming around, the crew of the yawl rowed over to the lower end of the painted woods and landed. the men pulled the boat's bow a little way out on the bank and then strolled away a few yards into the woods, where it was cool and shady. one man only remained in the yawl, and he, like al, was a volunteer. he was jim, the _island city's_ deck hand who had quarrelled with al on the up trip. in spite of several attempts to escape while near fort union, jim had been unable to jump his round-trip contract with captain lamont, and was now reluctantly returning toward st. louis and that southern confederacy which he supported so loudly in words and so feebly in deeds. the men who had landed, namely, the mate and al, four other oarsmen and the leadsman, had been in the woods but a minute or two when, without the least warning, a dozen musket shots rang out from the bushes around them, instantly followed by a chorus of terrifying indian war whoops. two of the oarsman fell dead at the first fire; the rest of the party turned and dashed for the boat. but several indians had crept between them and the landing and a moment elapsed before the mate and al, who had their revolvers, could drive them back far enough to reach the shore. when they did so, to their horror they discovered the yawl out in mid-stream and some little distance down, rapidly drifting toward the bar. jim was not to be seen, for he was lying flat in the bottom of the boat to escape the indian bullets, but he was evidently pulling the rudder ropes to guide the yawl as nearly as possible to the bar. the _belle peoria_ had caught the alarm, and her decks were swarming with armed men; but she was just rounding the head of the bar and was still farther away than the yawl, so that her people dared not fire on the indians for fear of hitting their own men on the bank. "we'll have to swim for it, boys!" shouted the mate, and flinging off his coat he dived into the river like a duck and struck out for the bar, keeping beneath the surface except when he had to come up for a second to breathe. al and the other men followed his example. it was not more than fifty yards to the bar but every inch of the way was fraught with deadly peril. whenever he came to the surface to breathe, as he had to several times, al heard the bullets whistling about his head. once he heard another oarsman, a few feet from him, give a gurgling cry and saw his hands thrust up and clutch the air as he sank, struck by one of the merciless bullets. before the survivors reached the bar, the fire of those on the steamer had driven the indians back into the painted woods, with probably a greater loss than they had inflicted upon the crew of the yawl, though of the latter, one had drowned and one been shot in the water, besides the two killed on shore at the first fire. when the survivors were safely back on the _belle peoria_, the mate stepped up to jim, who had landed in the yawl at the lower end of the bar, and shouted, "you scoundrel, you ran away and left us to shift for ourselves, didn't you? i've a mind to throw you overboard." "i didn't run away," snarled jim. "the yawl slipped off the bank and i couldn't get it back." backing up against a stanchion he faced the angry mate and the crowd behind him like a desperate animal at bay and cast one swift, venomous glance at al which caused the latter to feel a sudden suspicion. "did you think you'd get rid of me that way?" he demanded, confronting the deck hand. "were you willing to see six other men murdered just to get even with me?" jim dared not look at him again. "i didn't think anything," he muttered. "i tell you, the boat slipped off." "it slipped off infernally quick after we landed, then," cut in the mate. "you were a quarter of a mile down river when we reached the bank." "i couldn't help it; it slipped," jim reiterated, as if he could think of no other defence. "well, i think you're a liar," bluntly stated the mate, "but i can't prove it, so you'll save your skin this time. but if i ever catch you at any more of your scaly, rattlesnake tricks, you'll go to kingdom come mighty quick, and i'll be the man that'll send you there." he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving jim to settle as best he could with the other deck hands, all of whom were now feeling very bitter toward him. a strong party went ashore and found and buried the bodies of the unfortunate men who had been killed there, victims of an attack such as brought death to scores of gallant steamboat men during the years of the sioux wars. the following day the _belle peoria_ reached fort rice, where colonel dill and his command were very glad to see them and to hear the first news of general sully's expedition which they had received in several weeks. the garrison was in good health and spirits; but they had been several times attacked by indians, and were now much concerned for the safety of a large emigrant train from minnesota, under captain james fisk, which had arrived at the fort in july and moved west over sully's trail, in spite of warnings, determined to reach the gold mines. this party a little later came very near being annihilated by the indians on the edge of the bad lands; but a strong relief column sent out by general sully after his return to fort rice finally rescued them and brought them back safe. after leaving colonel dill's hospitable command the journey of the steamboat was uneventful for several days, until one morning she came to the bank at fort la framboise. she was stopping wholly on al's account and with beating heart he went ashore, accompanied by wallace and captain lamont. they ascended a gently sloping hill to the small and rather dilapidated trading post, which stood on its summit. here they found that the factor, a frenchman, was not yet up, but they soon got him out. "un white boy by ze name tomas breescoe?" said the factor, when al had explained their errand. "oui, je savvy heem. il est un reg'lair leetle injin. py gar, he ride like ze centaur!" his eyes narrowed shrewdly. "un yanktonais bring heem here, seex, saven week ago. sacre! how mooch i pay pour ze pauvre boy release! you pay me back, oui?" "certainly," replied al, yet with many misgivings, for he had no idea what the frenchman might ask. "you shall be repaid for any expense you may have been put to." captain lamont nudged him. "he's going to gouge you," he whispered. "don't be too eager. find out where tommy is." "i haven't much money," continued al, speaking the sober truth. "is my brother here now?" "eet ees not so ver' mooch," proceeded the factor, ignoring al's question and quickly changing his tack regarding the ransom. "t'ree horse, feefty pound flouair, ten pound shot et ten pound powdair." al was aghast, for he understood that these items would cost far more than he had money to pay for. but here captain lamont broke into the conversation. "that's more than mr. briscoe or i can pay you for just now," said he, blandly. "however, we can give you a note and pay the amount over to mr. charles p. chouteau for you when we reach st. louis." mr. chouteau was the manager of the american fur company and the factor knew as well as did captain lamont that he would not allow one of his employees to practise such extortion upon the relatives or friends of an unfortunate prisoner rescued from the savages. the frenchman shifted his feet uneasily. "has m'sieu feefty dollair, cash?" he asked. "fifty dollars?" "oui, m'sieu. pour zat ve call ze mattair--how you say?--sqvare." the captain looked at al and nodded, for the amount was about one-third of what the man's first demand would have made it. "but i haven't even that much, captain," said al, despairingly. "i have forty dollars, al," said wallace. "take that." he thrust his hand into his pocket. "pshaw, that's all right," broke in the captain, stopping him. "i have plenty, but we don't want to be bled, that's all." he turned to the factor. "very well," he remarked. "we'll pay you fifty dollars, cash. now where's the boy?" "m'sieu has ze cash money here, dans sa poche, for geeve me now?" the factor persisted, anxiously. "yes, yes," replied captain lamont, impatiently. "but before i give it to you, you must first show us the boy." the frenchman waved his hands pathetically. "oui, mais je ne peut pas show ze pauvre boy. il est depart down ze rivair pour la s'in' louis pour--two veek." "you say you can't show him?" exclaimed the captain. "he started for st. louis two weeks ago?" "oui, m'sieu, oui. sur le steamair _north vind_. je poot heem ver' comfor'ble sur le steamair. he shall reach s'in' louis safe." "huh! that remains to be seen!" grunted the captain. then he looked sympathetically into al's disappointed face. "well, my boy," said he, "that seems to be all there is to it. your brother has gone down and you can do nothing but follow. here is your money, factor. we thank you for your trouble." he handed the frenchman fifty dollars in greenbacks from an amply filled wallet, for the steamboat officers of those days earned handsome salaries and were seldom without plenty of money. then the captain and his two young companions retraced their steps to the steamboat landing and the _belle peoria_ resumed her journey. al was perfectly certain that the frenchman had simply robbed them of fifty dollars, for he did not believe that te-o-kun-ko had either asked or received one cent of ransom for tommy's delivery. he was, moreover, far from satisfied concerning his young brother's present safety, but he was helpless in the circumstances, and could only hope that tommy would reach st. louis all right and would there seek his uncle, mr. colton. ten days sufficed to bring the _belle peoria_ to omaha, and here her captain received so tempting an offer to carry a cargo back to a point up-river that he determined to accept it. his decision was an unexpected misfortune to captain lamont, but the latter was not a man to be discouraged by such untoward events. it will be remembered that on her way up-river, the _island city_ left a large barge at omaha which had so impeded her progress that she could not tow it further. this barge was still lying moored to the bank where it had been left, and into it captain lamont loaded his engines and other machinery from the _belle peoria_, determined to complete his journey to st. louis by drifting down-river with the current. the size of the barge was such that it could easily accommodate the cargo of machinery and still leave ample living room for the entire crew of the shipwrecked _island city_. many men were necessary to handle the unwieldy craft with oars, sweeps, and rudders in facing hard winds, in sparring off from bars or snags, and in encountering the many other perils and embarrassments incident to such navigation. tarpaulins were spread over the boat, protecting both the machinery and the crew; a galley was arranged and a cook stove set up; a sufficient supply of provisions was laid in for the first few days of the journey; and, thus equipped, the strange craft set out on her southward voyage. it was a slow journey, but no one could have called it monotonous, for a score of times every day all hands were called out to hard work of one sort or another. now it was to pole the barge off a shoal place on which she had drifted, or again, to row her down the length of some bend against a flat head wind which was beating her back up the river faster than the current bore her the other way. occasionally the men had to land and, taking hold of a long "cordelle rope" attached to the barge's stern, walk up the bank in a long, straining line and pull her back into the channel from some "blind chute" into which she had blundered, dragging her along as in the early days of the fur trade the crews of the keel boats were obliged to drag their vessels clear from st. louis to fort union, except when rare favoring winds allowed the use of a sail. more than once during the long days between omaha and kansas city, al and his companions worked for hours up to their waists and shoulders in the water alongside the barge, freeing her from some obstruction or a lodgement against the bank. but all labors have an end, and at length the great bend at kansas city came in sight, with the little town straggling along the river and the rugged, precipitous hills rising behind it, which in a few decades were destined to be covered with the crowded dwellings and the towering business structures of a great metropolis. the barge was moored for the night, and most of her crew, including al and wallace, seized the opportunity to get a glimpse of civilization once more and to hear the news of the day by strolling up-town in the evening. "i'll tell you what i want," said wallace, as they walked along broadway, looking into the brightly lighted shop windows and enjoying the novel sensation of being on a busy street with crowds of people about them. "i want a great, big, tall, fat glass of lemonade, with ice in it. i haven't had one since i was in st. paul last." "nor i since i left st. louis," rejoined al. "that for me, too." they soon came to an ice-cream and confectionery store where a number of people were sitting about at small tables, eating, drinking, and talking, quite after the manner of dwellers in a real city. the boys took their places in two vacant chairs at a table where two men were seated, one a soldier and the other a civilian. after giving their orders to the waiter, the boys sat silent for a moment, feeling an embarrassing consciousness of their decidedly soiled and unkempt appearance in the comparatively well dressed crowd, which included a number of ladies. presently the soldier at their table said to his companion, after a silence induced by the intrusion of the boys upon their privacy, "well, anyhow, i'll tell you if old pap price ever gets as far as the kansas line with his ragamuffin army, we'll give him a reception that he won't forget soon." al and wallace began to listen, for this sounded interesting. "you kansas militia fellows are too much scattered," returned the civilian. "why doesn't general curtis get you concentrated down here by the border somewhere? i tell you, old pap will be here before you know it. why, he's already to jefferson city, according to the latest despatches, cleaning up everything before him and coming this way like a jack rabbit. what is there between here and his front to stop his twenty-five or thirty thousand men? nothing! nothing to make him even hesitate." "there will be something to make him hesitate, though," insisted the kansas militiaman, stoutly. "curtis _is_ concentrating, and we'll be sent across the state line to meet and stop price somewhere around lexington. you watch!" "would you go across the line?" queried the other. "certainly i would." "well, then, you're an exception," returned the civilian. "i'll bet you two bits that if the kansas militia is ordered across the state line, nine-tenths of them will refuse to go. they're too afraid they'll be kept away over election and too afraid they'll have to give up a little shred of their sacred 'state rights' to the national government." "oh, well, some of the boys feel that way, of course," replied the militiaman, defensively, "but not all, by any means." al's curiosity had reached the breaking-point. "i beg your pardon," he interrupted, leaning across the table, "but will you kindly tell me if general sterling price's army is invading missouri?" the two men looked at al and wallace in amazement. "why, yes, i should say it is," answered the militiaman. "where have you come from that you didn't know that?" "we have just come down the missouri in a barge," al answered, "and we haven't heard any late news; nothing since we left omaha. we have been up in dakota all summer with general sully, fighting the sioux indians." "oh, is that so?" asked the other. "we haven't heard much from that campaign, either. did you whip the indians?" "yes, we defeated and scattered them in two pretty big battles. but what about general price?" "why, he entered southeast missouri from arkansas about the middle of september with an army of anywhere from fifteen to thirty thousand men. he tried to take pilot knob, but general ewing, who used to be here at kansas city, you know, was there with a small force and repulsed him badly; knocked the tar clean out of him, in fact. then he started for st. louis but there were so many troops there that he seems to have given it up; at least, he is moving west along the missouri and i guess he's somewhere around jeff city now. i don't know whether he can take it or not; according to the latest despatches rosecrans is going to try to hold the city. but we're looking for price to come on out here and try to invade kansas, anyhow." "you say he's coming up the missouri?" asked al. "we've got to keep on down the river to st. louis with our barge." "well, you'd better look out for old pap, then," rejoined the other. "he'll catch you, sure, and likely burn your boat; and if he don't the guerillas will. they're awful bad now, and there isn't a steamboat ever gets through without being attacked, and often they're destroyed." al felt a sudden chill of apprehension. "do you know whether they attacked the steamer _north wind_ on her way down?" he asked, anxiously. "no, i don't remember it," the militiaman returned. "why, yes, you do," broke in his companion. "don't you know, two or three weeks ago a band of guerillas got the _north wind_ somewhere between lexington and miami? they crossed the river on her and then burnt her up. it was reported several of her people were killed in the mix-up." "oh, that's right; i had forgotten," returned the soldier. then to al he said, curiously, "why do you ask?" "nothing," answered al, in a dull voice. "only i had a young brother on her who had been a prisoner among the indians. he was going home to his mother in st. louis." "pshaw, that's too bad!" exclaimed the militiaman, sympathetically. "but he's probably gotten through all right." "maybe he has and maybe not," said al. "it's hard to tell in such times. come on, wallace," he added. "let's go back to the boat." they rose abruptly and left the store. al slept very little that night, and when he did his rest was broken by troubled dreams of tommy; he imagined his brother in all sorts of desperate situations and losing his life in a variety of horrible ways. even when awake and thinking rationally, he realized that almost any of the fancies of his nightmare might easily be realities, for the guerilla warfare in missouri at this time had degenerated into a carnival of barbarous brutality hardly exceeded in the history of any country, and the mercy or cruelty dealt out to a prisoner by one of these bands of lawless marauders depended almost wholly upon the humor of the guerilla chief. chapter xvii captured by guerillas captain lamont was disturbed by the rumors he heard at kansas city of the dangerous condition of navigation below that point; but he was a brave and determined man, and would not be swerved from his purpose of reaching st. louis, now that he had gotten so far on the way and overcome so many difficulties. the next morning the barge started out as usual, and as there was deeper water the farther down river she went, her progress became more rapid. four days after leaving kansas city she tied up for the night opposite brunswick, missouri, a town about twenty-five miles, by the channel, above glasgow. though it was said guerillas had been in brunswick the day before, none had yet interrupted the journey of the barge, nor had any even been seen; and captain lamont and his men had begun to think that the alarming rumors circulating through the country were largely without foundation. the following morning, a short time after the boat got under way, captain lamont found that the deck hand, jim, was missing, and then he made the additional discovery that his own wallet was also gone. though a guard had been maintained on the boat all night, as usual, jim had contrived in some way to slip ashore and escape with the money. the circumstances made captain lamont somewhat uneasy. "i don't care about the money," said he. "there were only a few hundred dollars in the pocket-book. but i should like to know what that fellow wanted to get away for when we are so near st. louis. he could have robbed me just as easily there, and then he would have been in a country where he could get a job when the money was spent. but he certainly can't expect to get one around here." "i'll tell you, captain," said al, "i believe he's gone to try and find some rebs or guerillas to make an attack on our boat. you know he's a rebel at heart. he probably figures he can get me into trouble that way, and you, too; for he doesn't like you any too well." "that's a long guess," replied the captain, after studying al's theory for a moment, "but it may be correct. anyway, i wish i knew what he's up to." the boat drifted lazily on for a couple of hours and at length came into the head of a long, gradual bend having, on its north side, a low, open shore of sandbars, with meadows and farm lands farther back, and on the south an extensive belt of timber growing between the water's edge and the bluffs. the channel ran close in along the timbered shore, and the place was such a favorable one for an armed party to attack passing river craft, and had so often been utilized for that purpose during the war, that it had come to be known as bushwhacker bend,--"bushwhacker" and "guerilla" being terms used interchangeably for describing the irregular partisans along the border. as the boat came to the head of the timber, the pilot crowded her over as far as possible toward the north bank. but she had gone only a short distance when a crowd of apparently about fifty men, wearing all manner of ragged and dirty garments, suddenly arose among the trees and fired a rattling volley of musketry point-blank at the barge. the bullets plunged into her wooden sides and tore through her tarpaulin covers, though, almost miraculously, no one was hit. then a man wearing a sabre and dressed in gray clothes somewhat resembling a confederate uniform, stepped forward and, waving his sabre toward the boat, shouted, with an oath, "bring that boat in here or i'll kill every man on board!" seeing nothing but guns pointing toward him and knowing well that the guerilla chief could make good his threat, captain lamont shouted back, "all right. we'll come over. don't fire again." the pilot swung the barge over toward the south shore, the bushwhackers following her down the bank until she touched the land. then the chief, accompanied by about half of his villainous-looking followers, sprang aboard. "i'm captain john c. calhoun yeager, u' the confederate states army," said he, pompously, throwing out his chest as he confronted captain lamont. "heaven pity the confederate states army, then!" muttered the mate, who was standing behind him. "what's that?" demanded yeager, turning sharply. "i said, sir, that the confederate states army is honored," replied the mate, meekly. "oh!" said the guerilla chief, mollified. "you bet." he smoothed down his coat with a satisfied air, then resumed to captain lamont, "i'm gonta search this yere boat fer yankee soldiers, an' if anybody peeps he'll git plugged full o' holes." wallace, who was standing beside al, turned pale, for he knew not what this might mean for him. he was in uniform and there was no escape, as yeager immediately pointed to him and continued, "there's one of 'em. jerk him up, boys." half a dozen of his men sprang upon wallace like cats upon a mouse, pulling his arms roughly behind him. wallace uttered a cry of pain as his wounded arm was twisted. "oh, please don't!" he begged. "my left arm is wounded." "the devil it is!" sneered one of the guerillas, giving it an extra twist as he jerked a piece of cord around wallace's wrists. "then it needs exercise to limber it up." al's face turned pale with cold fury. he stepped forward and, before any one could think what he intended doing, his fist shot out into the guerilla's right eye with terrific force, sending him to the deck like a stone. "you dirty cur!" he growled. "i'll give you some exercise, too." "don't, al, don't!" pleaded wallace, now more frightened for his friend's safety than for his own. yeager, paying no attention whatever to the fall of his retainer, fixed his cold eyes on al as he heard wallace call him by name. "i've got it straight," said he, "that there's another blue belly on here, not in soldier clothes. his name's al briscoe an' he's a friend o' this yere kid,"--indicating wallace. "i reckon you're the ticket," he went on, addressing al. "take him in tow, boys." "he's not a soldier," exclaimed wallace. "he's never enlisted." "this is jim's work," whispered the mate to captain lamont. "nobody else would know about al." captain lamont repeated wallace's remonstrance. "this boy is not a soldier, captain yeager," he declared. "i know that to be a fact." "well, i got it straight that he is," persisted yeager, insolently, "so you may as well shut up. take 'em ashore," he went on, to the men who held al and wallace by the arms. then he added, to the others, "search the boat." "oh, i'm dreadfully sorry, al," moaned wallace, as they were pushed and kicked out on the bank. "it's my fault you were taken." "no, they'd have found me out, anyway," al answered, smiling bravely at his friend. "i'd a good deal rather stay with you, old man, than to have you face this alone." the boys were held on the bank while the guerillas went through the barge, taking what they pleased in the way of food and the clothing of the men. they seized no more prisoners and finally came ashore, when yeager, brandishing a pistol, shouted to captain lamont, "now, then, cast off an' git out an' don't stop ner monkey around fer two hours, anyhow, er i'll sink yer rotten old tub an' you with it!" there was nothing to do but obey, and with many glances of profound regret and apprehension at al and wallace, standing guarded by a dozen brawny ruffians on the bank, captain lamont and his men shoved the barge off and drifted on down the river. as the boys watched the boat recede in the distance, it seemed to them that they had looked their last upon friendly faces, and that the portals of death were closing upon them as the barge finally disappeared. when the boat was gone, yeager turned his attention to his prisoners. seating himself under a tree, he regarded them genially and remarked, "p'utty sporty clothes you got on. i reckon some o' my boys needs them worse 'n you do." "yes, i reckon," said one of the guerillas, slouching up and leering into al's face. it was the fellow whom al had knocked down and he could leer with only one eye for the other was closed and the flesh around it had already turned blue-black in color. he glanced down at al's shoes, which had been purchased in kansas city. "those look about my size," said he, comparing them with his own broken-down cowhide boots. "i'll take them before i shoot you." he knelt down and began to unlace one of the shoes. al's anger and contempt were so great that he had lost all sense of discretion. but he showed his feelings in unusual ways. "certainly; help yourself," said he, in a smooth tone of mocking politeness, thrusting his foot a little way forward. "i always like to have a nigger take care of my shoes for me." the crowd laughed uproariously and the ruffian sprang to his feet and slapped al across the mouth. "take 'em off yerself an' hand 'em to me!" he shouted. al looked around at the other men. "if you will untie my hands and leave me free to use them," said he, "i will hand you my shoes,--and something more." he glanced significantly at the guerilla's still uninjured eye. again the crowd laughed, and approvingly. it was evident that al's fearless behaviour pleased them, and his tormentor became correspondingly enraged. again he struck his defenceless antagonist across the mouth. but at this moment a short, broad-shouldered little man stepped out from among the onlookers and sauntered over to the cowardly ruffian. one of his hands was thrust into his pants' pocket and in the other he carried a huge revolver which looked almost as long as himself. this terrifying weapon he raised and brushed its muzzle deliberately back and forth across the tip of the other man's nose, which was nearly a foot above the top of his own head. [illustration: bill cotton protects al from the guerilla] "now, look here, daddy longlegs," said he, in a persuasive tone, "you let this kid alone or i'll blow you into the river. these boys are game; an', by jinks, i'm goin' to see that they're treated decent from now on. everybody take notice." he swept a calm, authoritative glance around over the crowd, spat upon the ground, stuck his revolver back into its holster and, with both hands now in his pockets, strolled back to the tree whence he had come, and sat down. yeager laughed nervously, seeming to fear the effect of this exhibition of authority on the part of some one beside himself. "i was just goin' to say that," he remarked. the little man looked at him and his lip curled slightly. "yes, you were!" said he, derisively, and yeager made no further comment, while al's persecutor sneaked away sheepishly, muttering to himself. there was a moment of embarrassed silence, and while it lasted there emerged from the woods behind the motley company a figure which hurried toward the guerilla captain officiously. as soon as they saw it, the boys smiled in unison. "here's jim!" exclaimed wallace. "now we'll catch it!" the deck hand glanced toward them, then, with a look of relief, said to yeager, "well, you got 'em, i see, captain." "yes, yes, i got 'em," replied yeager, starting from thought and eying jim uneasily. "much obliged to you fer puttin' me on." "oh, sure; that's all right," exclaimed jim, beaming on him. "i hate a yank worse 'n pizen." he turned and, walking over, faced al and wallace. "nice day, ain't it?" he inquired, with a sneer. "how do you kids like it? you ain't doin' no fancy boxin' to-day, al briscoe, are yeh?" "well, well; my dear old friend, james!" exclaimed al, in affected surprise. "aren't you the proud boy, though, over this great victory?" "none o' yer freshness, now," cried jim, doubling up his fists, threateningly, "er i'll mash yeh one." "here, here!" cried yeager, loudly. "don't abuse the prisoners!" jim looked at him in surprise. "why not?" he asked, as if abusing prisoners were the most natural pastime in the world. "because i said so," returned yeager, bluntly. "that's why." the deck hand appeared to meditate this unusual ruling for a moment. then he inquired, "when yeh goin' to shoot these yanks, captain?" "well," said the guerilla chief, hesitatingly, and stopped. then he shot a furtive glance at the short, broad-shouldered man. the latter was sitting in a lounging attitude with his arms clasped around his knees, but his eyes were fixed steadily on yeager. "well," began the captain, again. "i ain't a-goin' to shoot 'em. i'm a-goin' to take 'em down an' turn 'em over to general price." he looked again at the short man, who was now gazing calmly out over the river. the boys breathed sighs of relief and thanksgiving, for it seemed they were to be saved for the moment, at least, from their most imminent peril of being murdered in the woods. "what?" cried jim, angrily. "yeh told me yeh'd shoot 'em if i got 'em fer yeh." "i find they ain't deservin' uh death," returned yeager, with dignity. "leastways, not unless ordered by a reg'lar military court." "oh, thunder!" exclaimed jim. he frowned in disappointed hatred at al, then turned and walked away. "well, i must be goin'," said he. "i got business up to lexington." "hold on!" cried yeager. "what's yer hurry? we're just startin' fer arrer rock to take these prisoners to general price. i want you fer a witness ag'in 'em." "aw, no, i can't do no good," returned jim, hastily, continuing to back away. "i've told yeh all i know about 'em. i got to go." then he felt a nudge on his arm and looked at the short man, who had risen and, with his hand on his big holster, was gazing up into jim's face. "pshaw, you'd better come with us," said he, in a soft voice. jim's eyes wavered, then shot a desperate, hunted look around over the crowd. but by a great effort he controlled himself. "oh, very well. yes," he replied, with as much carelessness as he could assume. "i'll go." the horses of the guerilla gang were tied a few yards back in the timber. the boys were led to them and mounted, each one riding between two guards; and then the party, forming in a rough column of fours, started out. they soon emerged from the woods, passed up through a ravine and so out upon the bluffs, where presently they turned into a faintly marked country road running to the southeast, toward arrow rock. for hours they travelled, alternately at a trot and a walk, through the pretty, rolling country of saline county, now passing among stretches of forest, gay with the foliage of autumn, and again moving across reaches of open land, dotted here and there with little farms, most of them deserted and falling to decay. but always they avoided the main roads and often they travelled across the fields, through ravines and along the lower edge of ridges, making it evident that these men possessed a knowledge of the country as intimate as that of the sioux in the northwest. the boys were held near the centre of the column, and several files ahead of them was jim, who rode along easily, slouching in the saddle and yielding to the motions of his horse as if accustomed to it through long practice. it was noticeable to the boys that the short man held a place in column immediately behind jim; for this guerilla company appeared to have no regular formation, and the men fell in wherever they chose, sometimes even changing their places on the march. toward evening the gang approached arrow rock and were halted by a picket in the edge of the little town. the officer of the guard, a young man in the full uniform of a confederate lieutenant, came out to meet yeager, who had ridden to the front. "is general price's army here?" asked yeager. "yes," answered the lieutenant. "who are you?" "captain yeager and command, with yankee prisoners." "captain yeager? of whose regiment?" "nobody's," replied the chief, boastfully. "we go it alone." "oh, i see," said the other, a slight inflection of contempt in his voice. "er--ah--partisan rangers?" "what?" "bushwhackers?--guerillas?" "that's what," replied yeager. "i want to see general price." "general price is not here," stated the lieutenant. "this is general clark's brigade of marmaduke's division. you can see general clark if you wish." "all right," said yeager. "show us in." the officer of the guard instructed one of his men to conduct the guerilla band to the house occupied by general clark as headquarters, near the centre of the town. the streets were swarming with confederate soldiers, and long lines of cavalry horses were hitched along the sidewalks or tied to their picket lines in the middle of the streets. some of the soldiers were little better clothed than the guerillas, in civilian garments of various hues and cuts, while others wore threadbare suits of butternut jeans, and others still, many of them, were attired in new uniforms of federal blue, doubtless recently captured. as they approached general clark's headquarters, jim suddenly left his place and, spurring up beside yeager, exclaimed, earnestly, "say, cap, honest, i've got to be goin'. it's almighty important fer me to get to lexington." "it's almighty important fer you to stay with me till you've saw general clark," replied yeager, gruffly. "now, don't be foolish or you'll git hurt." jim was pale to the lips but, looking around, he saw the short man following close after him and he continued riding beside yeager. arrived at headquarters, the column halted, and the captain dismounted and entered. in a few moments a confederate corporal with two men came out and, walking over to al and wallace, ordered them to dismount. then the corporal noticed that their hands were tied behind them. he jerked out a jack knife and cut the cords on their wrists, which were swollen and bleeding. "how long have you been tied that way?" he demanded. "since before noon, when we were captured," replied wallace. the corporal glanced at the guerillas about him. "that's a fine way to treat helpless prisoners," he exclaimed, angrily. "it 'ud take a gang like you-all, who dassent fight in the open, to torture a kitten,--if yeh ever had nerve enough to catch one." some of the guerillas looked ugly, but they dared do no more in the midst of a confederate camp, and in great indignation the corporal marched his squad and prisoners through the doorway and into the presence of general clark, who was seated at a table, with yeager standing before him. "these are the prisoners, general," said yeager, importantly. "yes, i see," replied general clark, dryly, as he measured the evident youth of the captives. then he continued, addressing wallace, "where have you boys come from?" "from dakota, where we have been fighting indians," returned wallace. the general looked disappointed. "oh, is that it?" he asked. "you don't know much about matters around here, then?" "no, sir," wallace answered. "we don't know anything about them. we were coming down the missouri on a barge, straight from dakota, when we were taken." "well, captain," remarked the general, leaning back in his chair and glancing at yeager. "i don't see that your prisoners are of much value." "mebbe not," replied yeager, somewhat crest-fallen. "but you'd better see the feller that told me about 'em. mebbe he knows somethin' more." general clark sent out the corporal and in a moment the latter returned, leading jim forcibly by the arm. the short, broad-shouldered guerilla followed them. the deck hand was trembling visibly and his eyes were wild but he was evidently striving to maintain his composure. "what do you know about these prisoners?" demanded general clark. "i don't know nothin', general," answered jim, his voice shaking. "only they're yanks, an' i thought they ought to be turned over. i didn't expect,--" he stopped short. "didn't expect what?" "i--i didn't expect they'd be examined none, ner that i'd be dragged into it. i thought they'd--they'd be shot." "in the regular confederate service we do not shoot prisoners of war," replied the general, turning a coldly significant glance upon yeager. "and why," he continued, addressing jim, "didn't you want to be dragged into it, as you say?" the deck hand's eyes wavered and he made no reply. "what are you so alarmed about?" persisted the general, leaning forward and watching him suspiciously. al cleared his throat. "pardon me, general clark," said he, "but i believe you will find on inquiry that this man is a deserter from your service." jim started as if he had been shot. "it ain't so!" he cried, wildly. "i ain't never been in the confederate army." he made an involuntary step toward the door, but his guard pulled him back firmly. "why do you think that?" asked general clark of al. "he was a deck hand on the boat i ascended the missouri on," replied al, "and i had trouble with him. that's doubtless why he hoped to have me shot. i judge that he was in the confederate service only by threats and boasts that he made to me, and he was probably in an arkansas regiment." "an arkansas regiment?" the general asked. "we have a whole division of arkansas troops with us,--fagan's." a curious, gurgling gasp came from jim's throat. his face was chalky. "i never heerd o' fagan," he sputtered. "ner i ain't been in arkansaw in all my life." "you are not convicted," general clark said, calmly. "but the matter is worth investigating." he called the sergeant of the headquarters guard and directed him to have jim placed in close custody, and the deck hand was led away, reeling and apparently almost fainting. al never saw him again; and though by chance he heard long afterward that jim had, in fact, been in an arkansas regiment, he could never ascertain whether the young fellow paid the penalty of death for his violation of his oath of enlistment. when jim had been led away, the general turned to al and asked, "you wear no uniform. why not?" "i am not enlisted in the army, sir. i am too young." "ah! you would not be in our service," the general returned, with a smile. "but you are a union sympathizer?" "yes, sir, i am," replied al, firmly. "well, you appear to be a pretty bright boy," the general observed, shrewdly. "i think it will be as well not to have you at large for a few days. corporal, lock these young men in that brick storehouse a block below here, on the left side of the street. mount a guard, give them supper, and keep them securely till further orders." as they were being marched out, they passed the short guerilla who had championed them in the morning. he was lounging by the doorstep. al motioned to him and he caught step with them. "we are very grateful to you for taking our part down there where we were captured," said he. "we'd have been killed if it hadn't been for you." "maybe," said the other, somewhat embarrassed. "but i didn't like the way you were taken." "how do you mean?" "oh, havin' that dough-faced shipmate o' yours come in to give yeh up,--pervidin' we'd shoot yeh!" "it was a low-down trick," said wallace. "i should say it was! i'm glad you tipped off the general to the kind of a pup he is." "why are you so set against him?" asked al. "aw, i just don't like his looks," returned the bushwhacker. "yeh kin see he's yellow, an' i sized him up fer a deserter when he got in such a sweat to pull out." "what's your name?" asked al, as the man stopped, evidently not intending to go as far as their prison with them. the bushwhacker looked at him suspiciously. "you needn't be afraid of me," al insisted. "perhaps we can do you a good turn sometime." for a moment longer the other hesitated, then answered, "my name's bill cotton," and, turning, he walked away. the boys were soon securely locked in their prison with a sentry before the door. it was a small brick building near the river bank, and all its windows were boarded up with heavy planks except a small square one facing the river, the sill of which was about six feet above the floor. they had been confined but a few moments when the corporal returned, bringing a quantity of hardtack, a chunk of bacon, a pail of drinking water, two blankets and a small box of ointment. "there," said he, as he handed the various articles to the boys, "fill yerselves up an' rub some o' this yere grease stuff on yer wrists. it ain't the best; lard an' marigold juice is the best, but i ain't got none, so i jest bought this in a store. i reckon it'll help some." the boys thanked him warmly. "that's all right," he replied. "i hate to see prisoners abused. i found out how it felt myself, once. this is a kind of a nasty hole to put you in but you'll likely be let out o' here an' paroled in the mornin', when we start fer glasgow." "are you going to glasgow?" asked al, suddenly interested. "you bet we are," confided the corporal, sociably, "an' some o' joe shelby's boys with us; got orders this evenin'. there's quite a bunch o' your yank friends up there, an' a big grist o' muskets, too, an' we want the whole lot." he smiled genially at the boys in anticipation. al became alert and, therefore, cautious. "i've understood glasgow is a pretty strong position," said he, carelessly. "you'll have to have a large force to take it." the corporal laughed. "oh, we've got plenty," he rattled on. "there's our whole brigade,--clark's,--an' five hundred men from jackman's brigade, of shelby; an' then old general joe himself is goin' up this side the river, so i've heard, to bang the town in front with artillery while we bust in the back door." "well, i'll bet there are enough of our fellows there to hold it, anyhow," declared al, stoutly. "no, there ain't; there ain't above a thousand yanks there," answered the corporal, with conviction. "an' we'll have four thousand. besides that, they don't know we're comin', an' we'll gobble 'em before they wake up." "that does seem like pretty big odds," admitted al. "still, i think they'll hold you." "no, they won't," repeated the corporal, as he stepped through the doorway, key in hand. "well, i got to be goin'. bye-bye, yanks. sleep tight." the key turned in the lock and he was gone, leaving the boys to themselves. chapter xviii the defence of glasgow as soon as their kindly but indiscreet jailer was out of hearing, al exclaimed in a whisper, that the sentry might not overhear, "wallace, we must get out of here somehow and up to glasgow to warn our garrison. it may not do any good; i'm afraid the johnnies will be too many, but our boys mustn't be surprised if we can help it." "no, indeed," agreed wallace, fervently. "but how are we to get away?" "we'll see," returned al. "hold me up while i look at this window. be mighty quiet, so the sentry won't hear us." wallace bent his back, and al stepped on it and felt the iron bars of the high window overlooking the river. every one was firm and solid. "we can't get through there," he whispered, after descending to the floor again. "it would take two weeks' work to loosen one of those bars." total darkness had fallen by this time, for in the middle of october night comes much earlier than in the months of july and august, during which the boys had been campaigning in dakota and montana. they started around the room in opposite directions, feeling of the boarded windows. when they came together again, wallace said, "there's one over here may do. the planks are spiked fast to the window sill, but the sill seems to be rotten or loose." he crept again to the window referred to, followed by al. they found that by working the planks back and forth they could move the portion of the casing to which they were fastened. in a few moments they had an opening large enough at the bottom for them to crawl through. "this is mighty lucky, but let's wait a while," cautioned wallace. "there are too many people moving around, and the sentry is wide awake yet." they waited one hour, and then two. the sounds of voices and footsteps gradually died away outside. for a long time their guard walked back and forth on the ground before the door, then they heard him fling himself down with a grunt. "it'll be an hour and a half at least before he's relieved," whispered al. "he'll doze or sleep." they waited fifteen or twenty minutes longer, then cautiously pulled out the bottom of the planks and propped them with a small piece of board they had found on the floor, so that they would not spring back. then one at a time they crept through the narrow opening. once outside, they tip-toed toward the river. "i can't swim," whispered wallace. "my arm hurts like fury since it was tied back this afternoon." "then if we can't find a boat along here somewhere, you'll have to stay or run off in the woods," replied al. "it will be a long pull for me, but i'll try to swim the river before i'll give up getting to glasgow." they made their way along the bank for some distance and presently, as luck would have it, came to a small row-boat pulled out on shore. they could find only one oar in it but they worked the boat down to the water, got in and shoved off. the rapid current carried them quickly away from the arrow rock bank and then, by vigorous paddling, al succeeded finally in bringing the boat to the opposite shore a mile or so down stream. they stepped on land and pushed the boat out again to drift on down river. "now i know the country from here to glasgow like a book," said al. "i've been over it often with father. there's a road up here somewhere on the bluffs, and when we strike that we can keep on going, right into glasgow. we'll have to hurry, though, for clark's men will surely be crossing pretty soon now, and we must get ahead of them." it was now about eleven o'clock of the night of october , and the boys were on arrow rock point, fourteen or fifteen miles from glasgow. but at four the next morning, footsore and weary, they came to the picket post at the bridge on the boonville road across gregg's creek, near the southern edge of town, and fifteen minutes later they were conducted into the presence of colonel chester harding, jr., who, with a detachment of his regiment, the forty-third missouri volunteer infantry, and a few militia and citizen guards, was holding the place. "where have you come from?" inquired colonel harding, as soon as they had introduced themselves. "from arrow rock, sir," answered al, somewhat breathless in his eagerness. "we were taken from a boat on the missouri river early yesterday by guerillas and conveyed to arrow rock, where we were imprisoned; but we escaped last evening and have come here to tell you that arrow rock is occupied by clark's brigade and part of shelby's division, of price's army, who intend to attack glasgow to-day." colonel harding's face expressed surprise and concern. "are you sure of what you say?" he asked. "are the rebels at arrow rock part of price's main army?" "yes, sir, they are," al assured him, positively. "we were examined by general clark himself, and we later learned from one of his men that they will attack glasgow to-day. they are going to use artillery from the west bank of the river and troops on this side, with artillery, too, i suppose. they claim they will bring about four thousand men." colonel harding arose and walked the floor. "if they do," said he, "i fear they will defeat us. i have expected to be attacked by bushwhackers, perhaps in large numbers, but not by price's main column. however, we will give them the best fight possible; and i thank you heartily for the information you have brought me. my troops are already bivouacked in battle positions, but i will warn them to be ready for immediate action." he put on his hat and started to the door, then turned back to al. "i see you are in civilian clothes," he remarked. "do you want to fight if there is an engagement?" "indeed i do, sir," replied al, earnestly. "are you enlisted?" "no, sir. i am not old enough." "that is unfortunate," observed the colonel. "you know, according to the rules of civilized warfare, a man not regularly enlisted in the service of a belligerent is liable to be punished by death if he fights in battle and is captured. in case we should get the worst of this encounter, you see you may be in a bad way unless you are in the service." "i shall fight, colonel, and take my chances," replied al, firmly. "i can't stand by and see the union flag fired upon without shooting back." "that is the right spirit, my boy," said colonel harding. "but be careful, and if you see things going against us, you had better try to get yourself away quietly." "i lived in glasgow until two years ago, sir," al answered. "i think i shall be able to manage in case of disaster. can we get guns? private smith, here, is on sick furlough, and my revolver i hid in the boat when we were brought to shore by the guerillas." "go to the court house and ask the ordnance officer," said the colonel. "there are thousands of stands of arms there. good luck to you." he turned and went out and the boys followed immediately, turning however, toward the court house. they were provided, al with a musket and wallace with a revolver, as he could use only his right hand. the silence of early morning was brooding over the town as they emerged from the court house, for the watchful troops around could do nothing but wait for the enemy's blow to fall. but as they paused on the sidewalk, the deep boom of a cannon resounded across the river, echoing back from the bluffs, and a second later a shell crashed into the side of a building about half a block away. they could hear the window glass spatter on the ground in a jingling shower. "there goes joe shelby's opening gun, if that reb corporal was right," exclaimed al. "come on!" wallace followed him and they ran south toward the bridge on the boonville road across gregg's creek, by which they had come in an hour or so before. at a street corner they encountered three companies of infantry going on the double-quick to the same point, with canteens rattling against their bayonet scabbards. the boys fell in behind the first company and kept on, until the column deployed into line along the creek bank and the men threw themselves on the ground behind bushes or whatever other cover offered. the bridge had been stripped of its plank flooring by the picket guard, and only the bare stringers now remained, offering no footing for an attacking column. "my, but that's hard work, runnin' that way," panted a stout man beside al. "wonder what the rebs are doin'?" he raised himself on his elbows and peered ahead. on the crest of the hill across the narrow valley two field guns frowned on the bridge, the cannoneers standing motionless at their posts, seeming to wait only the command to open fire. in front of them, long lines of dismounted cavalry were reaching out, like slowly unfolding ribbons, against the brown face of the hill. al and wallace watched them curiously. would they never cease to extend? all at once an officer on a black horse darted up to the two field guns as if shot out of the woods behind. they could see him point his arm toward the bridge, gesturing emphatically. then the cannoneers sprang to life, two vivid streaks of fire spurted from the muzzles of the guns and al felt, rather than heard, a terrific explosion which seemed to take place all around him at once. following it came a sensation of intense, numbing silence that was at length pierced by the thin, liquid vibration of a bugle, blowing somewhere far off, "the charge." then gradually other sounds came to his reviving ear-drums, and he realized that a shell had burst directly over his head, though he was unhurt. he glanced at wallace, whose eyes looked dazed. "wasn't that awful?" whispered al. "awful, yes. awful," repeated wallace. he seemed almost beyond words. but he suddenly hitched up on his knees, exclaiming, "there, look! they're coming!" al turned his eyes to the front. the long, ribbon-like line of confederates was pitching forward down the hill and out across the floor of the valley toward them. two flags, fluttering blotches of red and blue, tilted forward above it. little ripples ran back and forth along the line, like the wind ripples in growing wheat, as the men strained to keep alignment; and ahead of them whirled a shrill, ear-piercing wave of sound more united, more defiant and more formidable than any indian war-whoop the boys had ever heard. it came to their senses that they were listening for the first time to that heart-chilling "rebel yell" of which they had so often been told. an officer walked rapidly along behind their own line, his voice, high-keyed with excitement, striving vainly to be reassuring. "now, boys, now, don't get scared," he kept repeating. "hang it all, hold your fire, men! hold your fire!" all at once the volume of yells ceased. al and wallace looked to the front and saw that the whole line of the enemy had stopped, rigid as a fence. even as they looked, a volley blazed along the line as if fired from one gun. the fat man beside al dropped his musket and began to cry, frantically, "oh, oh, oh, my shoulder! oh, oh, oh, my shoulder!" there was no time to heed him. through the wall of smoke before them, created by the volley, again broke the confederates on the run, their dreadful yell preceding them, the two frayed battle flags eddying above the smoke like the masts of catboats in a seaway. "lord, al, they don't fight like indians!" gasped wallace, hoarsely. as a photograph on the brain there came to al a flashing recollection of the broad plain fronting tahkahokuty, bathed in the sunlight, with the sioux swooping and circling before the steadily advancing troops. "no," said he, briefly. the officer came behind them again, running, and bellowing above the uproar, "company, rise! fire by company! ready! aim! fire!" a volley as steady as that of the enemy flamed along the front of the company. al was conscious of a vague surprise that in such chaos the men could maintain a discipline so machine-like. but the enemy's charging line did not appear even to waver. "load! fire at will! commence firing!" howled the officer, jumping into the air to look over the heads of his men at the enemy beyond the creek. "fast, boys! fer gawd's sake, put it into 'em fast!" the muskets began to rattle in a disjointed way, al's among the rest, while wallace's revolver popped viciously. everything in front was veiled in thin white vapors, and the men in the charging line resembled shadows, dancing upon a curtain. but the confederates, like a stampede of buffalo, held to their headlong course. shortly the officer bawled, in a voice almost tearful, "no use, boys! they're flankin' us. they're across the creek, up and down. come back; back to the buildings!" most soldiers fear being flanked more than death itself in front. the men cast terrified glances toward the enemy, streaming past beyond their wings, and broke like sheep for the rear, where the outlying houses of the town looked down a gentle slope toward them. they were not panic-stricken, but, as in one man, the instinct awoke in them to cover their flanks and save themselves from the dreaded attack in rear. with the enemy hard behind them and filling the air with exultant yells, they swarmed into the buildings, like bees into their hives, smashing through doors and windows in their haste and from these new havens of refuge they resumed their interrupted fire desperately. al and wallace, with five or six soldiers, made for a brick residence standing back in a shady garden. by main force they tore a pair of blinds from a shuttered window, crushed in the glass and sash with flailing musket butts, and leaped through, landing upon the plush carpet of a handsome parlor. the men swept up a polished mahogany table and three or four rosewood chairs and jammed them into the vacant window, then opened fire feverishly upon the enemy, who were already tearing down the fence pickets in front of the house or leaping over them. the confederate line of battle had dissolved into groups during the impetuous pursuit and the men, so dauntless in their advance across the open fields, looked doubtfully at the yawning windows and doors of the houses, each spitting fire, upon which they had now come. they discharged a patter of harmless shots, then began to seek cover behind trees, fences, or stones. there was a sergeant among the men with al and wallace. he peered through the rosewood chair-legs cluttered in the window, and cried, "they're takin' cover, boys. we can hold 'em now. here, jones, throckmorton, schmidt,--get upstairs. shoot down at 'em;--drive 'em back." al raised his voice. "this is the house of doctor falkner," he said. "i know him well; he is a union man. treat the house as well as you can, boys." to wallace he added, "my father sold him all this furniture and these carpets." the soldiers glanced at him curiously. this regard for property in the midst of battle was unusual. but the sergeant answered, as he thrust his musket barrel through the chair legs, "sure, we'll treat it as well as we can." the confederates beyond the front fence seemed all at once to have become tired. they declined to be coaxed or urged forward by their officers, but from behind their hiding-places they kept up a constant pop-popping of muskets and carbines which gradually reduced all the doors and windows on that side of the house to kindlings. framed pictures on the opposite walls were punctured, and here and there light from the adjoining rooms shone through holes in the plastering. a soldier in the parlor was desperately wounded and lay in a stupor on a spot of the plush carpet which was sopping wet with blood, his head pillowed on a gay silk sofa cushion. now and then other soldiers dodged into or out of the house through doorways on the side opposite to the enemy, and once the officer who had directed the fight at the creek came in, but finding the sergeant in charge, left immediately. time seemed to stand still. the little garrison, wrapped in the absorbing occupation of pumping lead at the almost invisible enemy in front, took no note of its passage. outside, a steady, rattling roar seemed to envelop the whole town and country around, pierced constantly by human voices, shouting, pleading or commanding, now near and again distant. once al, his throat parched with the choking fumes of confined powder smoke, darted back to the kitchen in search of water. while he was drinking he heard a slight creak and rustle, audible in the uproar by reason of its very lightness, and, looking around, he saw a woman standing on the top step of the cellar stairs, her hand on the door knob. he had to look twice before he knew her, for when he had last seen her, her hair, now iron gray, was brown, and her face, now wrinkled, was smooth and youthful. "why, mrs. falkner!" he stammered. "why, are you here?" she peered at him. "al briscoe!" she exclaimed, in a trembling voice. "what on earth--why, how you've grown!" she uttered the commonplace remark almost mechanically. she seemed hardly to know what she was doing. "mrs. falkner, you are in great danger here," cried al. "no, no; i am down cellar. i am safe if the house doesn't burn. is it on fire?" "no, but it is being riddled with bullets." "that is not so bad as fire," she answered, putting her hand weakly to her head. "you will try to keep it from burning, won't you, al?" "i will do all i can, mrs. falkner," he answered, and before he could say more she pulled the cellar door shut and disappeared. he ran back to the front of the house. the sergeant was peeping excitedly past the edge of the parlor window. directly he drew back, crying, "they're tryin' to get between us an' the next house!" he jabbed a commanding forefinger at al and wallace. "here, you--you; jump upstairs. shoot at 'em from the back windows. stop 'em!" the boys leaped up the broad, easy front stairway, three steps at a time, wrenched open a bedroom door at the top and ran to a window looking out over the back porch. down along the side fence they could see a dozen or more confederates running, crouching low. they were making for the porch. the boys fired simultaneously and they saw one man drop, then wriggle off through the grass. wallace's revolver continued to bark while al was reloading his musket, but the confederates cast frightened glances up at their window, and before he was ready to fire again they had run back to the other side of the house once more. the boys looked over the back yard and the town behind it, and their eyes caught the roof of the court house, rising above the trees. a column of black smoke was pouring from it, with a dull glare of flames through and below it. al caught wallace by the arm. "see! the court house is on fire!" he cried. "and all those thousands of arms are in it." wallace looked at the burning building, then apprehensively back at al. "i wonder if a shell did it, or if it's colonel harding's orders?" "there's no telling," answered al. "if it's orders, it means that we're whipped and the court house is being burned to keep the rebs from getting the arms. listen! isn't the fire slacking up?" it was true. the deep boom of the confederate artillery had died out from among the confused noises of the battle; and as the boys hearkened, the continuous rattle of musketry diminished until only scattered, individual shots could be heard. then these ceased and a silence followed, almost painful to the ears after the uproar. "what can it mean?" asked wallace, in an uneasy tone. then he went on, hopefully, "perhaps the johnnies have given up the attack." they walked to the stairway and, as they went down, saw that the sergeant had opened the shattered front door and was standing on the porch outside, while a confederate officer, with a bit of dirty white rag tied to the point of his sabre, was advancing up the walk toward him. something seemed to warn al to keep out of sight and he stepped into a corner where he could hear but could not be seen. "what do you want?" demanded the sergeant, gruffly, as the confederate reached him. "be quick, or we'll open fire again." "your commander has surrendered the city and garrison, sergeant," replied the confederate, who wore the insignia of a major on his coat collar. "you are prisoners of war. you have made a very gallant defence. permit me to congratulate you." "surrendered?" cried the sergeant, in utter amazement. "man alive, we haven't begun to fight! we'll show you whether we've surrendered. get back to your lines, sir, before we fire!" he stepped into the house to slam the door in the major's face, but the latter raised his hand with a gesture of authority. "just a moment," he said, soothingly. "i tell you the truth. colonel harding has surrendered. we have broken through your lines on the north and east of the city. there was nothing else for him to do." the sergeant's face was purple with rage. "well, i'll be--" he began, but he was interrupted by the entrance of his own captain, who laid a restraining hand on his arm. "frank, it's all over," exclaimed the captain, in a broken voice. "we've surrendered, frank." he dropped his hand with a despairing gesture, and two big tears rolled from his eyes and coursed down his cheeks into his long, black beard. then he straightened up and flashed an indignant glance at the confederate officer. "at all events, sir," he exclaimed, "you did not break through my line." the confederate bowed his head gravely. "no, sir;" he replied, "we did not. you have fought nobly, splendidly, against superior numbers. the whole garrison has covered itself with honor." the captain seemed to be struck by his antagonist's politeness. "anyway," said he, "it is not so hard to surrender to a gentleman." "thank you, sir," the other answered. "courage deserves at least the meed of praise. and now you will please be good enough to assemble your company from these various buildings and march them, under arms, to the vicinity of the court house. the building was fired by your men before we got in and it is now burning, but the formal surrender will occur as near to it as possible." chapter xix reunited al waited to hear no more, but slipped through a convenient doorway and out into the kitchen. he was just going to the cellar door when he heard wallace's voice behind him. "i'm going to stay with you, al," he said. "where shall we hide?" al turned like a flash and caught his friend by the shoulder. "no, you don't, now, old fellow!" he exclaimed. "i'm outlawed, and you 're not going to put yourself deliberately in the same fix; no, indeed! you're going out and surrender with the rest of the garrison; and no doubt the whole lot of you will soon be paroled, for i don't believe the rebs will want to carry a crowd of prisoners very far." "well, i'm going to stay with you, anyhow," persisted wallace, doggedly. "wallace, don't be a fool!" cried al, impatiently. then, seeing that he must exercise diplomacy to make his friend follow the safer course, he went on, "don't you see that it would be harder for two of us to escape than one, especially when you are disabled? i know mrs. falkner. she will hide me until i can get away, but she could not so easily hide two of us. just give me your revolver and ammunition; that's all i want, and you take my musket and surrender it, so there'll be no question about your being unarmed. nobody but colonel harding knows i'm here or who i am; and, if it comes up, you can tell him i've cut out and escaped, probably up-river." "al, i hate to do it," said wallace, hesitatingly. "you needn't. it's best for us both," insisted al. "now go; time is precious, and good luck to you." they gripped each other's hands in a firm farewell and al stepped to the cellar door and opened it. then he turned and shook his finger at wallace smilingly. "mind, now; if you're paroled, i'll see you in st. louis inside of ten days, and we'll have lemonade together, with ice in it, at the ice-cream parlor near third and olive streets." he closed the door behind him and felt his way down the cellar stairs, his heart by no means as light as he had tried to make wallace believe. "mrs. falkner! mrs. falkner!" he called, softly, on reaching the bottom. there was no answer. "mrs. falkner!" al repeated. "it's al briscoe. i'm in trouble." he heard the rustle of her dress as she came toward him, saying, "al briscoe? in trouble?" "yes," he answered. "the city has just surrendered. i have been fighting, though i am not an enlisted soldier, and if the confederates catch me i shall very likely be shot. will you hide me for a little while until i can escape from the city?" "why, of course i will, al," exclaimed the kind-hearted lady, forgetting her own distress of mind in concern for him. "i am only too glad to help you. what time of day is it?" "it is about noon, mrs. falkner." "then you will hardly dare to venture out before dark," she said. "till then you can stay in the cellar. if you feel your way, you will find a pile of boxes in the corner back here which you can hide behind, if you wish. but i am living alone in the house, except for old dinah, and she ran away up town when the battle began. i think no one will suspect that you are hiding here. are you hungry?" "i have not eaten since last evening, in arrow rock," al admitted. "i will see if there is anything to eat upstairs," said mrs. falkner. "i suppose the house is completely wrecked?" "not altogether," al replied, "but it is in pretty bad shape." the lady went upstairs and presently returned with some food and a candle. "oh, everything is torn to pieces!" she groaned, as she handed these things to al. "i don't know how i shall ever repair it, all alone, as i am." then she continued, "you can see to eat by this candle and then you had better put it out, in case any one should look down the cellar stairs. then, if you want to sleep, i will keep watch; and after dark i will waken you, and you can go to an old cave i know of, in a clump of bushes not far back of the house." "yes, i know the cave," said al. "it's the very place. your son frank and 'chucky' collins and i made that cave. we used to have a pirates' den there." he smiled up at her as he bit into a pink slice of cold ham, the first he had tasted in months. "oh, did you, al?" asked mrs. falkner in a low voice. she was silent a moment, then went on, slowly, "the collins boy is in the rebel army. frank--frank--was killed at prairie grove." her voice broke. the smile vanished from al's face. "oh, mrs. falkner!" he exclaimed. "how sorry i am. poor old frank! and your husband--doctor falkner?" "is a surgeon in sherman's army," she said. "so long as he is left to me i should be thankful, for i am only one of thousands who have lost sons or husbands in our nation's cause. what of your own parents, al?" then he told her of his father's death and tommy's capture and of his mother and annie in st. louis. for some time they talked, then mrs. falkner returned upstairs, while al lay down behind the pile of boxes and was at once wrapped in the profound slumber of exhaustion. no one disturbed the lonely house during the remaining hours of the day nor the early ones of the following night, for most of the confederate army was farther uptown or in bivouac outside its limits. sometime toward morning mrs. falkner awakened al and conducted him cautiously to the cave, leaving him there with an ample supply of food for several days. the next day and night passed and al still lay in his cramped refuge, undisturbed, but very stiff and uncomfortable and eager to get out and away. during the second day mrs. falkner came to the cave and dropped a note down to him through a crack in the roof. in it she informed him that colonel harding and his command had been paroled the day before and marched away toward jefferson city accompanied by an escort, to be delivered within the union lines, wherever these might be met with. the last of the confederate troops, she wrote, had just left, crossing the missouri on steamboats and marching away westward, to join general price's main army. the town was still quiet, but every one feared that gangs of guerillas would soon swoop down upon it; and she advised al to make his escape as soon as darkness came. taking his revolver and such of his remaining food as he could conveniently carry, he accordingly crept out of his hiding-place soon after nightfall and made his way to the southeastward, following the country roads and keeping his direction by the stars. about six o'clock the next morning he arrived on the river bank opposite boonville. making inquiries of a negro, he found that the town was in possession of union troops, and he soon crossed the river on the ferry. to his surprise and delight, the paroled garrison of glasgow was just coming into town when he arrived, wallace among them. they were loud in their praises of the kind treatment they had received at the hands of their captors, and especially of the escort under lieutenant graves, which had brought them down to the near vicinity of boonville; for the confederate soldiers had shared their rations with the prisoners and made their march as comfortable as possible in every way. at boonville the paroled men separated to await exchange; and al and wallace continued their journey together, going down to jefferson city in an army wagon and thence by the pacific railroad to st. louis, where they arrived safe during the second morning after leaving boonville. "wallace," said al, when they stepped from the train at the station and walked out into the street, where drays and omnibuses were rattling over the cobble stones and busy throngs of people covered the sidewalks, "the first thing we do must be to find an ice-cream parlor. we won't go to third and olive; that's too far from here. but i want to drink that lemonade with you. i allowed ten days, you remember, but now it is only,--let me see,--five days. then you will go out to palm street with me and see how a surprise affects my mother and annie and--" he hesitated, then added, hopefully, "tommy." the refreshing drink was pleasant but they fairly gulped it down, for al, now that at last he had reached his journey's end, was feverishly eager to see his dear ones once more. so they hastened to fifth street and boarded a north-bound horse car, which soon carried them to palm street, though to al in his impatience the journey seemed hours long. as they came in sight of the house, al saw his mother in the front yard, transplanting some flowers from a bed to pots. her back was toward the street and the boys approached within a few feet without her hearing them. then al took off his hat and stepped up behind her. "excuse me, madam," said he, gravely, "but is this where mrs. thomas briscoe lives?" his mother turned and gave one startled glance at the brown-faced youth before her, in his rough, travel-stained clothes, then dropped her case-knife and flower pot on the ground, crying, in a voice thrilling with joy, "al, al! my dear, dear boy!" the next instant she was in his arms and both of them were laughing and crying at once. as soon as the first warm greeting was over, al asked fearfully, "mother, have you seen or heard anything of tommy?" he need not have asked the question, for at this juncture a straight, boyish figure bounded through the front doorway, cleared the steps in one jump and sprang into al's arms. "what, tommy?" cried al, in amazed delight. "can it possibly be you, so big and strong? i would not have known you. how and when did you get here?" "they sent me down on another boat after the _north wind_ burned," tommy answered. "but how did you know to stop in st. louis?" asked al. "why, i hunted up uncle will, of course, to have him help me get to minnesota, and then i was so glad to find that mama and annie were here," tommy replied. "what a hunt you have had for me, dear old brother!" "yes, but now we are together again, so everything has come out for the best, even though i didn't find you myself. mother, where is annie?" "she is in school," answered mrs. briscoe. "but she will be home at three o 'clock. tommy should be there, too, but he will not start until next monday. he is far back in studies for his age." "but he must have learned many things in the last two years which he never could have learned in school," said wallace, who had been warmly and affectionately greeted by mrs. briscoe. "yes, i did," admitted tommy. "it was a great life up there among the indians, and te-o-kun-ko was always very good to me, and so were his squaw and the children. i think a lot of them all." "we were a little afraid you might grow to think so much of them and of their life that you would not want to come back to us," said al. tommy glanced at him reproachfully. "why, al," he exclaimed, "how could you think i would ever care as much for any one as for mama and you and annie and--" a shadow crossed his face, "papa," he added. al, judging that his young brother did not yet realize any connection of te-o-kun-ko with mr. briscoe's death, and deciding not to explain it until some later time, answered, "we couldn't be sure, tommy, for you know such things have happened." "i was always sure," remarked mrs. briscoe, calmly, and, indeed, there was no question that her mother's instinct had been correct, as it almost always is. "well," said wallace, "with all the knowledge of the indians and their ways you have gained, you ought to make a capital scout." tommy looked at him thoughtfully. "perhaps i will--some day," he replied. "but first i want to learn the things that other fellows know, because i don't believe that without them, it is much use just to be able to ride and shoot and track game and so on." "now, al," mrs. briscoe interrupted, turning toward the door, "we all, your aunt and uncle, too, will be eager to know what has happened to you in the last six months, especially since you started west from fort rice. the last letter i had from you was the one you sent from there, on the eighteenth of july." "there has been no chance to send you any since," replied al. "and i got your last letter, dated june , at fort rice on my way down from the yellowstone. so we shall all have much to tell each other. although i didn't succeed in rescuing tommy in the way i hoped to do," he put his arm affectionately over his small brother's shoulders, "i believe this trip of mine has been good for me, and will be in the future for all of us." and so, indeed, it proved, for the following year al readily secured an appointment to west point through the hearty endorsements of general sully and other army officers whom he had come to know in the northwest; and the father of wallace smith, after the close of the war had brought prosperity and new floods of settlers to the minnesota frontier, was able to help mrs. briscoe to such a profitable sale of her desirable claim near fort ridgely that she had enough to live upon comfortably at her sister's hospitable home in st. louis, while tommy and annie were completing their education in the excellent schools of that city, and sometimes spending a vacation in cruising up and down the mississippi on captain lamont's fine steamer. thus al's unselfish enterprise on behalf of his brother, begun under such discouraging circumstances, resulted, directly or indirectly, in advancing the interests and happiness of himself and all those dearest to him; and he never had cause for anything but gratitude and rejoicing over the friends made and the experiences gained during his adventurous summer with sully in the sioux land. the end [illustration: stephen r. riggs, d.d., ll.d.] mary and i forty years with the sioux by stephen r. riggs, d.d., ll.d. missionary to the dakotas, and author of "dakota grammar and dictionary," "gospel among the dakotas," etc. with an introduction by rev. s. c. bartlett, d.d. president of dartmouth college boston congregational sunday-school and publishing society congregational house copyright, , by stephen r. riggs. copyright, , by congregational s. s. and publishing society. electrotyped by c. j. peters and son, boston. to my children, alfred, isabella, martha, anna, thomas, henry, robert, cornelia, and edna; together with all the grandchildren growing up into the missionary inheritance of their fathers and mothers, _this book is inscribed by the author._ preface. this book i have inscribed to my own family. it will be of interest to them, as, in part, a history of their father and mother, in the toils and sacrifices and rewards of commencing and carrying forward the work of evangelizing the dakota people. many others, who are interested in the uplifting of the red men, may be glad to obtain glimpses, in these pages, of the inside of missionary life in what was, not long since, the far west; and to trace the threads of the in-weaving of a christ-life into the lives of many of the sioux nation. "why don't you tell more about yourselves?" is a question which, in various forms, has been often asked me, during these last four decades. partly as the answer to questions of that kind, this book assumes somewhat the form of a personal narrative. while i do not claim, even at this evening time of my life, to be freed from the desire that good christian readers will think favorably of this effort of mine, i can not expect that the appreciation with which my dakota grammar and dictionary was received, by the literary world, more than a quarter of a century ago, will be surpassed by this humbler effort. moreover, the chief work of my life has been the part i have been permitted, by the good lord, to have in giving the entire bible to the sioux nation. this book is only "the band of the sheaf." if, by weaving the principal facts of our missionary work, its trials and joys, its discouragements and grand successes, into this personal narrative of "mary and i," a better judgment of indian capabilities is secured, and a more earnest and intelligent determination to work for their christianization and final citizenship, i shall be quite satisfied. since the historical close of "forty years with the sioux," some important events have transpired, in connection with our missionary work, which are grouped together in an appendix, in the form of monographs. s. r. r. beloit, wis., january, . note:--this book, first published by the author, though with the imprint of w. g. holmes, chicago, has met with such favor as to indicate that it should be brought out under auspices that would give it to a larger circle of those interested in indian missions. and to carry on the life of its author to its close, and give a more complete view of the progress of the work, another chapter has been added, making the "forty years" fifty years with the sioux. a. l. r. introduction. the churches owe a great debt of gratitude to their missionaries, first, for the noble work they do, and, second, for the inspiring narratives they write. there is no class of writings more quickening to piety at home than the sober narratives of these labors abroad. the faith and zeal, the wisdom and patience, the enterprise and courage, the self-sacrifice and christian peace which they record, as well as the wonderful triumphs of grace and the simplicity of native piety which they make known, bring us nearer, perhaps, to the spirit and the scenes of apostolic times than any other class of literature. how the churches could, or can ever, dispense with the reactionary influence from the foreign mission field, it is difficult to understand. doubtless, however, when the harvest is all gathered, the lord of the harvest will, in his wisdom, know how to supply the lack. some narratives are valuable chiefly for their interest of style and manner, while the facts themselves are of minor account. other narratives secure attention by the weight of their facts alone. the author of "mary and i; forty years with the sioux" has our thanks for giving us a story attractive alike from the present significance of its theme and from the frank and fresh simplicity of its method. it is a timely contribution. thank god, the attention of the whole nation is at length beginning to be turned in good earnest to the chronic wrongs inflicted on the indian race, and is, though slowly and with difficulty, comprehending the fact, long known to the friends of missions, that these tribes, when properly approached, are singularly accessible and responsive to all the influences of christianity and its resultant civilization. slowest of all to apprehend this truth, though with honorable exceptions, are our military men. the officer who uttered that frightful maxim, "no good indian but a dead indian,"--if indeed it ever fell from his lips,--needs all the support of a brilliant and gallant career in defence of his country to save him from a judgment as merciless as his maxim. such principles, let us believe, have had their day. they and their defenders are assuredly to be swept away by the rising tide of a better sentiment slowly and steadily pervading the country. the wrongs of the african have been, in part, redressed, and now comes the turn of the indian. he must be permitted to have a home in fee-simple, a recognized citizenship, and complete protection under a settled system of law. the gospel will then do for him its thorough work, and show once more that god has made all nations of one blood. he is yet to have them. it is but a question of time. and the indian tribes are doubtless not to fade away, but to be rescued from extinction by the gospel of christ working in them and for them. the reader who takes up this volume will not fail to read it through. he will easily believe that anna baird riggs was "a model christian woman,"--the mother who could bring up her boy in a log cabin where once the bear looked in at the door, or in the log school-house with its newspaper windows, "slab benches," and drunken teacher, and could train him for his work of faith and perseverance in that dreary and forbidding missionary region, and in what men thought that forlorn hope. and he will learn--unless he knew it already--that a lad who in early life hammered on the anvil can strike a strong and steady stroke for god and man. the reader will also recognize in the "mary" of this story, now gone to her rest, a worthy pupil of mary lyon and miss z. p. grant. with her excellent education, culture, and character, how cheerfully she left her home in massachusetts to enter almost alone on a field of labor which she knew perfectly to be most fraught with self-sacrifice, least attractive, not to say most repulsive, of them all. how hopefully she journeyed on thirteen days, from the shores of lake harriet, to plunge still farther into the wilderness of lac-qui-parle. how happily she found a "home" for five years in the upper story of dr. williamson's log house, in a room eighteen feet by ten, occupied in due time by three children also. how quietly she glided into all the details and solved all the difficulties of that primitive life, bore with the often revolting habits of the aborigines, taught their boys english, and persevered and persisted till she had taught their women "the gospel of soap." how bravely she bore up in that terrible midnight flight from hazelwood, and the long exhausting journey to st. paul, through the pelting rains and wet swamp-grass, and with murderous savages upon the trail. but it was the chief test and glory of her character to have brought up a family of children, among all the surroundings of indian life, as though amid the homes of civilization and refinement. all honor to such a woman, wife, and mother. her children rise up and call her blessed. forty-one years after her departure from the station at lake harriet, the present writer stood upon the pleasant shore where the tamarack mission houses had long disappeared, and felt that this was consecrated ground. the other partner in this firm of "mary and i" needs no words of mine. he speaks here for himself, and his labors speak for him. his dakota dictionary and bible are lasting monuments of his persevering toil, while eleven churches with a dozen native preachers and eight hundred members, and a flourishing dakota home missionary society, bear witness to the christian work of himself and his few co-laborers. "forty years among the sioux," he writes. "forty years in the turkish empire," was the story of dr. goodell. fifty years in ceylon, was the life-work of levi spalding. what records are these of singleness of aim, of energy, of christian work, and of harvests gathered and gathering for the master. would that such a holy ambition might be kindled in the hearts of many other young men as they read these pages. how invigorating the firm assurance: "during the years of my preparation there never came to me a doubt of the rightness of my decision. at the end of forty years' work i am abundantly satisfied with the way in which the lord has led me." how many of those who embark in other lines of life and action can say the same? and how signally was the spirit of the parents transmitted to the children. almost a whole family in the mission work: six sons and daughters among the dakotas, the seventh in china. i know not another instance so marked as this. and what a power for good to the dakota race, past, present, and future, is gathered up in one undaunted, single-hearted family of christian toilers. a part of this family it has been the writer's privilege to know, and of two of the sons he had the pleasure to be the teacher in the original tongues of the word of god. and he deems it an additional pleasure and privilege thus to connect his name with theirs and their mission. for not alone the dusky dakotas, but all the friends of the indian tribes and lovers of the missionary cause, are called on to honor the names of pond, williamson, and riggs. s. c. bartlett. dartmouth college. contents. chapter i. page .--our parentage.--my mother's bear story.--mary's education.--her first school teaching.--school-houses and teachers in ohio.--learning the catechism.--ambitions.--the lord's leading.--mary's teaching in bethlehem.--life threads coming together.--licensure.--our decision as to life work.--going to new england.--the hawley family.--marriage.--going west.--from mary's letters.--mrs. isabella burgess.--"steamer isabella."--at st. louis.--the mississippi.--to the city of lead.--rev. aratus kent.--the lord provides.--mary's descriptions.--upper mississippi.--reaching fort snelling chapter ii. .--first knowledge of the sioux.--hennepin and du luth.--fort snelling.--lakes harriet and calhoun.--three months at lake harriet.--samuel w. pond.--learning the language.--mr. stevens.--temporary home.--that station soon broken up.--mary's letters.--the mission and people.--native customs.--lord's supper.--"good voice."--description of our home.--the garrison.--seeing st. anthony.--ascent of the st. peters.--mary's letters.--traverse des sioux.--prairie travelling.--reaching lac-qui-parle.--t. s. williamson.--a sabbath service.--our upper room.--experiences.--church at lac-qui-parle.--mr. pond's marriage.--mary's letters.--feast chapter iii. - .--the language.--its growth.--system of notation.--after changes.--what we had to put into the language.--teaching english and teaching dakota.--mary's letter.--fort renville.--translating the bible.--the gospels of mark and john.--"good bird" born.--dakota names.--the lessons we learned.--dakota washing.--extracts from letters.--dakota tents.--a marriage.--visiting the village.--girls, boys, and dogs.--g. h. pond's indian hunt.--three families killed.--the village wail.--the power of a name.--post-office far away.--the coming of the mail.--s. w. pond comes up.--my visit to snelling.--lost my horse.--dr. williamson goes to ohio.--the spirit's presence.--prayer.--mary's reports chapter iv. - .--"eagle help."--his power as war prophet.--makes no-flight dance.--we pray against it.--unsuccessful on the war-path.--their revenge.--jean nicollet and j. c. fremont.--opposition to schools.--progress in teaching.--method of counting.--"lake that speaks."--our trip to fort snelling.--incidents of the way.--the changes there.--our return journey.--birch-bark canoe.--mary's story.--"le grand canoe."--baby born on the way.--walking ten miles.--advantages of travel.--my visit to the missouri river.--"fort pierre."--results chapter v. - .--dakota braves.--simon anawangmane.--mary's letter.--simon's fall.--maple sugar.--adobe church.--catharine's letter.--another letter of mary's.--left hand's case.--the fifth winter.--mary to her brother.--the children's morning ride.--visit to hawley and ohio.--dakota printing.--new recruits.--return.--little rapids.--traverse des sioux.--stealing bread.--forming a new station.--begging.--opposition.--thomas l. longley.--meeting ojibwas.--two sioux killed.--mary's hard walk. chapter vi. - .--great sorrow.--thomas drowned.--mary's letter.--the indians' thoughts.--old gray-leaf.--oxen killed.--hard field.--sleepy eyes' horse.--indian in prison.--the lord keeps us.--simon's shame.--mary's letter.--robert hopkins and agnes.--le bland.--white man ghost.--bennett.--sleepy eyes' camp.--drunken indians.--making sugar.--military company.--dakota prisoners.--stealing melons.--preaching and school.--a canoe voyage.--red wing. chapter vii. - .--returning to lac-qui-parle.--reasons therefor.--mary's story.--"give me my old seat, mother."--at lac-qui-parle.--new arrangements.--better understanding.--buffalo plenty.--mary's story.--little samuel died.--going on the hunt.--vision of home.--building house.--dakota camp.--soldier's lodge.--wakanmane's village.--making a presbytery.--new recruits.--meeting at kaposia.--mary's story.--varied trials.--sabbath worship.--"what is to die?"--new stations.--making a treaty.--mr. hopkins drowned.--personal experience. chapter viii. - .--grammar and dictionary.--how it grew.--publication.--minnesota historical society.--smithsonian institution.--going east.--mission meeting at traverse des sioux.--mrs. hopkins.--death's doings.--changes in the mode of writing dakota.--completed book.--growth of the language.--in brooklyn and philadelphia.--the misses spooner.--changes in the mission.--the ponds and others retire.--dr. williamson at pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze.--winter storms.--andrew hunter.--two families left.--children learning dakota.--our house burned.--the lord provides chapter ix. - .--simon anawangmane.--rebuilding after the fire.--visit of secretary treat.--change of plan.--hazelwood station.--circular saw mill.--mission buildings.--chapel.--civilized community.--making citizens.--boarding-school.--educating our own children.--financial difficulties.--the lord provides.--a great affliction.--smith burgess williamson.--"aunt jane."--bunyan's pilgrim in dakota chapter x. - .--spirit lake.--massacres by inkpadoota.--the captives.--delivery of mrs. marble and miss gardner.--excitement.--inkpadoota's son killed.--united states soldiers.--major sherman.--indian councils.--great scare.--going away.--indians sent after scarlet end.--quiet restored.--children at school.--quarter-century meeting.--john p. williamson at red wood.--dedication of chapel chapter xi. - .--republican administration.--its mistakes.--changing annuities.--results.--returning from general assembly.--a marriage in st. paul.--d. wilson moore and wife.--delayed payment.--difficulty with the sissetons.--peace again.--recruiting for the southern war.--seventeenth of august, .--the outbreak.--remembering christ's death.--massacres commenced.--capt. marsh's company.--our flight.--reasons therefor.--escape to an island.--final leaving.--a wounded man.--traveling on the prairie.--wet night.--taking a picture.--change of plan.--night travel.--going around fort ridgely.--night scares.--safe passage.--four men killed.--the lord leads us.--sabbath.--reaching the settlements.--mary at st. anthony chapter xii. .--general sibley's expedition.--i go as chaplain.--at fort ridgely.--the burial party.--birch coolie defeat.--simon and lorenzo bring in captives.--march to yellow medicine.--battle of wood lake.--indians flee.--camp release.--a hundred captives rescued.--amos w. huggins killed.--we send for his wife and children.--spirit walker has protected them.--martha's letter chapter xiii. - .--military commission.--excited community.--dakotas condemned.--moving camp.--the campaign closed.--findings sent to the president.--reaching my home in st. anthony.--distributing alms on the frontier.--recalled to mankato.--the executions.--thirty-eight hanged.--difficulty of avoiding mistakes.--round wind.--confessions.--the next sabbath's service.--dr. williamson's work.--learning to read.--the spiritual awakening.--the way it came.--mr. pond invited up.--baptisms in the prison.--the lord's supper.--the camp at snelling.--a like work of grace.--john p. williamson.--scenes in the garret.--one hundred adults baptized.--marvelous in our eyes chapter xiv. - .--the dakota prisoners taken to davenport.--camp mcclellan.--their treatment.--great mortality.--education in prison.--worship.--church matters.--the camp at snelling removed to crow creek.--john p. williamson's story.--many die.--scouts' camp.--visits to them.--family threads.--revising the new testament.--educating our children.--removal to beloit.--family matters.--little six and medicine bottle.--with the prisoners at davenport chapter xv. - .--prisoners meet their families at the niobrara.--our summer's visitation.--at the scouts' camp.--crossing the prairie.--killing buffalo.--at niobrara.--religious meetings.--licensing natives.--visiting the omahas.--scripture translating.--sisseton treaty at washington.--second visit to the santees.--artemas and titus ordained.--crossing to the head of the coteau.--organizing churches and licensing dakotas.--solomon, robert, louis, daniel.--on horseback in .--visit to the santees, yanktons, and brules.--gathering at dry wood.--solomon ordained.--writing "takoo wakan."--mary's sickness.--grand hymns.--going through the valley of the shadow.--death! chapter xvi. - .--home desolate.--at the general assembly.--summer campaign.--a. l. riggs.--his story of early life.--inside view of missions.--why missionaries' children become missionaries.--no constraint laid on them.--a. l. riggs visits the missouri sioux.--up the river.--the brules.--cheyenne and grand river.--starting for fort wadsworth.--sun eclipsed.--sisseton reserve.--deciding to build there.--in the autumn assembly.--my mother's home.--winter visit to santee.--julia la framboise chapter xvii. - .--beloit home broken up.--building on the sisseton reserve.--difficulties and cost.--correspondence with washington.--order to suspend work.--disregarding the taboo.--anna sick at beloit.--assurance.--martha goes in anna's place.--the dakota churches.--lac-qui-parle, ascension.--john b. renville.--daniel renville.--houses of worship.--eight churches.--the "word carrier."--annual meeting on the big sioux.--homestead colony.--how it came about.--joseph iron old man.--perished in a snow storm.--the dakota mission divides.--reasons therefor chapter xviii. - .--a. l. riggs builds at santee.--the santee high school.--visit to fort sully.--change of agents at sisseton.--second marriage.--annual meeting at good will.--grand gathering.--new treaty made at sisseton.--nina foster riggs.--our trip to fort sully.--an incident by the way.--stop at santee.--pastor ehnamane.--his deer hunt.--annual meeting in .--rev. s. j. humphrey's visit.--mr. humphrey's sketch.--where they come from.--morning call.--visiting the teepees.--the religious gathering.--the moderator.--questions discussed.--the _personnel_.--putting up a tent.--sabbath service.--mission reunion. chapter xix. - .--the american board at minneapolis.--the _nidus_ of the dakota mission.--large indian delegation.--ehnamane and mazakootemane.--"then and now."--the woman's meeting.--nina foster riggs and lizzie bishop.--miss bishop's work and early death.--manual labor boarding-school at sisseton.--building dedicated.--m. n. adams, agent.--school opened.--mrs. armor and mrs. morris.--"my darling in god's garden."--visit to fort berthold.--mandans, rees, and hidatsa.--dr. w. matthews' hidatsa grammar.--beliefs.--missionary interest in berthold.--down the missouri.--annual meeting at santee.--normal school.--dakotas build a church at ascension.--journey to the ojibwas with e. p. wheeler.--leech lake and red lake.--on the gitche gumme.--"the stoneys."--visit to odanah.--hope for ojibwas chapter xx. - .--annual meeting of .--homestead settlement on the big sioux.--interest of the conference.--_iapi oaye._--inception of native missionary work.--theological class.--the dakota home.--charles l. hall ordained.--dr. magoun of iowa.--mr. and mrs. hall sent to berthold by the american board.--the _word carrier's_ good words to them.--the conference of .--in j. b. renville's church.--coming to the meeting from sully.--miss whipple's story.--"dakota missionary society."--miss collins' story.--impressions of the meeting chapter xxi. - .--the wilder sioux.--gradual openings.--thomas lawrence.--visit to the land of the teetons.--fort sully.--hope station.--mrs. general stanley in the _evangelist_.--work by native teachers.--thomas married to nina foster.--nina's first visit to sully.--attending the conference and american board.--miss collins and miss whipple.--bogue station.--the mission surroundings.--chapel built.--mission work.--church organized.--sioux war of .--community excited.--schools.--"waiting for a boat."--miss whipple dies at chicago.--mrs. nina riggs' tribute.--the conference of at sully.--questions discussed.--grand impressions appendix. monographs. mrs. nina foster riggs rev. gideon h. pond solomon dr. t. s. williamson a memorial the family reunion mary and i. forty years with the sioux. chapter i. .--our parentage.--my mother's bear story.--mary's education.--her first school teaching.--school-houses and teachers in ohio.--learning the catechism.--ambitions.--the lord's leading.--mary's teaching in bethlehem.--life threads coming together.--licensure.--our decision as to life work.--going to new england.--the hawley family.--marriage.--going west.--from mary's letters.--mrs. isabella burgess.--"steamer isabella."--at st. louis.--the mississippi.--to the city of lead.--rev. aratus kent.--the lord provides.--mary's descriptions.--upper mississippi.--reaching fort snelling. forty years ago this first day of june, , mary and i came to fort snelling. she was from the old bay state, and i was a native-born buckeye. her ancestors were the longleys and taylors of hawley and buckland, names honorable and honored in the western part of massachusetts. her father, gen. thomas longley, was for many years a member of the general court and had served in the war of , while her grandfather, col. edmund longley, had been a soldier of the revolution, and had served under washington. her maternal grandfather, taylor, had held a civil commission under george the third. in an early day both families had settled in the hill country west of the connecticut river. they were the true and worthy representatives of new england. as it regards myself, my father, whose name was stephen riggs, was a blacksmith, and for many years an elder in the presbyterian church of steubenville, ohio, where i was born. he had a brother, cyrus, who was a preacher in western pennsylvania; and he traced his lineage back, through the riggs families of new jersey, a long line of godly men, ministers of the gospel and others, to edward riggs,[ ] who came over from wales in the first days of colonial history. my mother was anna baird, a model christian woman--as i think, of a scotch irish family, which in the early days settled in fayette county, pa. of necessity they were pioneers. when they had three children, they removed up into the wild wooded country of the upper alleghany. my mother could tell a good many bear stories. at one time she and those first three children were left alone in an unfinished log cabin. the father was away hunting food for the family. when, at night, the fire was burning in the old-fashioned chimney, a large black bear pushed aside the quilt that served for the door, and, sitting down on his haunches, surveyed the scared family within. but, as god would have it, to their great relief, he retired without offering them any violence. [ ] heretofore, we have supposed the first progenitor of the riggs family in america was miles; but the investigations of mr. j. h. wallace of new york show that it was edward, who settled in roxbury, mass., about the year . the name of miles comes in later. he was the progenitor of one branch of the family. mary's education had been carefully conducted. she had not only the advantages of the common town school and home culture, but was a pupil of mary lyon, when she taught in buckland, and afterward of miss grant, at ipswich. at the age of sixteen she taught her first school, in williamstown, mass. as she used to tell the story, she taught for a dollar a week, and, at the end of her first quarter, brought the $ home and gave it to her father, as a recognition of what he had expended for her education. it was a joy to me to meet, the other day in chicago, mrs. judge osborne, who was one of the scholars in this school, as it was in her father's family; and who spoke very affectionately of mary ann longley, her teacher. contrasted with the present appliances for education in all the towns, and many of the country districts also, the common schools in ohio, when i was a boy, were very poorly equipped. my first school-house was a log cabin, with a large open fireplace, a window with four lights of glass where the master's seat was, while on the other two sides a log was cut out and old newspapers pasted over the hole through which the light was supposed to come, and the seats were benches made of slabs. one of my first teachers was a drunken irishman, who often visited the tavern near by and came back to sleep the greater part of the afternoon. this gave us a long play spell. but he was a terrible master for the remainder of the day. notwithstanding these difficulties in the way of education, we managed to learn a good deal. sabbath-schools had not reached the efficiency they now have; but we children were taught carefully at home. we were obliged to commit to memory the shorter catechism, and every few months the good minister came around to see how well we could repeat it. all through my life this summary of christian doctrine--not perfect indeed, and not to be quoted as authority equal to the scriptures, as it sometimes is--has been to me of incalculable advantage. what i understood not then i have come to understand better since, with the opening of the word and the illumination of the holy spirit. if i were a boy again, i would learn the shorter catechism. my ambition was to learn some kind of a trade. but i had wrought enough with my father at the anvil not to choose that. it was hard work, and not over-clean work. something else would suit me better, i thought. about that time my sister harriet married william mclaughlin, who was a well-to-do harness-maker in steubenville. this suited my ideas of life better. but that sister died soon after her marriage, and my father removed from that part of the country to the southern part of the state. there in ripley a latin school was opened about that time, and the lord appeared to me in a wonderful manner, making discoveries of himself to my spiritual apprehension, so that from that time and onward my path lay in the line of preparation for such service as he should call me unto. my father, as he said many years afterward, had intended to educate my younger brother james; but he was taken away suddenly, and i came in his place. thus the lord opened the way for a commencement, and by the help of friends i was enabled to continue until i finished the course at jefferson college, and afterward spent a year at the western theological seminary at alleghany. mary had been educated for a teacher. she was well fitted for the work. and while she was still at ipswich, a benevolent gentleman in new york city, who had interested himself in establishing a seminary in southern indiana, sent to miss grant for a teacher to take charge of the school near bethlehem, in the family of rev. john m. dickey. it was far away, but it seemed just the opening she had been desiring. but a young woman needed company in travelling so far westward. it was at the time of the may meetings in new york. clergymen and others were on east from various parts of the west. in several instances, however, she failed of the company she hoped for, by what seemed singular providences. and at last it was her lot to come west under the protection of rev. dyer burgess, of west union, ohio. mr. burgess was what was called in those days "a rabid abolitionist," and had taken a fancy to help me along, because, as he said, i was "of the same craft." and so it was that during his absence i was living in his family. this is the way in which the threads of our two lives, mary's and mine, were brought together. a year and a half after this i was licensed to preach the gospel by the chillicothe presbytery, and we were on our way to her mountain home in massachusetts. before starting for new england, the general plan of our life-work was arranged. early in my course of education, i had considered the claims of the heathen upon us christians, and upon myself personally as a believer in christ; and, with very little hesitation or delay, the decision had been reached that, god willing, i would go somewhere among the unevangelized. and, during the years of my preparation, there never came to me a doubt of the rightness of my decision. nay, more, at the end of forty years' work, i am abundantly satisfied with the way in which the lord has led me. if china had been then open to the gospel, as it was twenty years afterward, i probably should have elected to go there. but dr. thomas s. williamson of ripley, ohio, had started for the dakota field the same year that i graduated from college. his representations of the needs of these aborigines, and the starting out of whitman and spalding with their wives to the indians of the pacific coast, attracted me to the westward. and mary was quite willing, if not enthusiastic, to commence a life-work among the indians of the north-west, which at that time involved more of sacrifice than service in many a far-off foreign field. hitherto, the evangelization of our own north american indians had been, and still is, in most parts of the field, essentially a foreign mission work. it has differed little, except, perhaps, in the element of greater self-sacrifice, from the work in india, china, or japan. and so, with a mutual good understanding of the general plan of life's campaign, with very little appreciation of what its difficulties might be, but with a good faith in ourselves, and more faith in him who has said, "lo, i am with you all days," mary left her school in bethlehem, to which she had become a felt necessity, and i gathered up such credentials as were necessary to the consummation of our acceptance as missionaries of the american board of commissioners for foreign missions, and we went eastward. railroads had hardly been thought of in those days, and so what part of the way we were not carried by steamboats, we rode in stages. it was only the day before thanksgiving, and a stormy evening it was, when we hired a very ordinary one-horse wagon to carry us and our baggage from charlemont up to hawley. i need not say that in the old house at home the sister and the daughter and granddaughter found a warm reception, and i, the western stranger, was not long overlooked. it was indeed a special thanksgiving and time of family rejoicing, when the married sister and her family were gathered, with the brothers, alfred and moses and thomas and joseph, and the little sister henrietta, and the parents and grandparents, then still living. since that time, one by one, they have gone to the beautiful land above, and only two remain. well, the winter, with its terrible storms and deep snows, soon passed by. it was all too short for mary's preparation. i found work waiting for me in preaching to the little church in west hawley. they were a primitive people, with but little of what is called wealth, but with generous hearts; and the three months i spent with them were profitable to me. on the th of february, , there was a great gathering in the old meeting-house on the hill; and, after the service was over, mary and i received the congratulations of hosts of friends. soon after this the time of our departure came. the snow-drifts were still deep on the hills when, in the first days of march, we commenced our hegira to the far west. it was a long and toilsome journey--all the way to new york city by stage, and then again from philadelphia across the mountains to pittsburg in the same manner, through the march rains and mud, we travelled on, day and night. it was quite a relief to sleep and glide down the beautiful ohio on a steamer. and there we found friends in portsmouth and ripley and west union, with whom we rested, and by whom we were refreshed, and who greatly forwarded our preparations for life among the indians. of the journey mary wrote, under date city of penn, march , : "we were surprised to find sleighing here, when there was little at hartford and none at new haven and new york. we expect to spend the sabbath here; and may the lord bless the detention to ourselves and others. oh, for a heart more engaged to labor by the way--to labor _any_ and _everywhere_." in west union, ohio, she writes from anti-slavery palace, april : "brother joseph riggs made us some valuable presents. his kindness supplied my lack of a good english merino, and sister riggs had prepared her donation and laid it by, as the apostle directs,--one pair of warm blankets, sheets and pillow-cases. my new nieces also seemed to partake of the same kind spirit, and gave us valuable mementos of their affection. "we found mrs. burgess not behind, and perhaps before most of our friends, in her plans and gifts. besides a cooking-stove and furniture, she has provided a fine blanket and comforter, sheets, pillow-cases, towels, dried peaches, etc. perhaps you will fear that with so many kind friends we shall be furnished with too many comforts. pray, then, that we may be kept very humble, and receive these blessings thankfully from the giver of every good and perfect gift." mrs. isabella burgess, the wife of my friend rev. dyer burgess, we put into lasting remembrance by the name we gave to our first daughter, who is now living by the great wall of china. by and by we found ourselves furnished with such things as we supposed we should need for a year to come, and we bade adieu to our ohio friends, and embarked at cincinnati for st. louis. "steamer isabella, thursday eve, may . "we have been highly favored thus far on our way down the ohio. we took a last look of indiana about noon, and saw the waters of the separating wabash join those of the ohio, and yet flow on without commingling for ten or twelve miles, marking their course by their blue tint and purer shade. the banks are much lower here than nearer the source, sometimes gently sloping to the water's edge, and bearing such marks of inundation as trunks and roots of trees half imbedded in the sand, or cast higher up on the shore. at intervals we passed some beautiful bluffs, not very high, but very verdant, and others more precipitous. bold, craggy rocks, with evergreen-tufted tops, and a few dwarf stragglers on their sides. one of them contained a cave, apparently dark enough for deeds of darkest hue, and probably it may have witnessed many perpetrated by those daring bandits that prowled about these bluffs during the early settlement of illinois. "friday eve.--this morning, when we awoke, we found ourselves in the muddy waters of the broad mississippi. they are quite as muddy as those of a shallow pond after a severe shower. we drink it, however, and find the taste not quite as unpleasant as one might suppose from its color, though quite warm. the river is very wide here, and beautifully spotted with large islands. their sandy points, the muddy waters, and abounding snags render navigation more dangerous than on the ohio. we have met with no accident yet, and i am unconscious of fear. i desire to trust in him who rules the water as well as the lands." "st. louis, may , . "had you been with us this morning, you would have sympathized with us in what seemed to be a detention in the journey to our distant unfound home in the wilderness, when we heard that the fur company's boat left for fort snelling last week. you can imagine our feelings, our doubts, our hopes, our fears rushing to our hearts, but soon quieted with the conviction that the lord would guide us in his own time to the field where he would have us labor. we feel that we have done all in our power to hasten on our journey and to gain information in reference to the time of leaving this city. having endeavored to do this, we have desired to leave the event with god, and he will still direct. we now have some ground for hope that another boat will ascend the river in a week or two, and, if so, we shall avail ourselves of the opportunity. till we learn something more definitely in regard to it, we shall remain at alton, if we are prospered in reaching there." in those days the upper mississippi was still a wild and almost uninhabited region. such places as davenport and rock island, which now together form a large centre of population, had then, all told, only about a dozen houses. the lead mines of galena and dubuque had gathered in somewhat larger settlements. above them there was nothing but indians and military. so that a steamer starting for fort snelling was a rare thing. it was said that less than half a dozen in a season reached that point. indeed, there was nothing to carry up but goods for the indian trade, and army supplies. some friends at alton invited us to come and spend the intervening time. there we were kindly entertained in the family of mr. winthrop s. gilman, who has since been one of the substantial christian business men in new york city. on our leaving, mr. gilman bade us "look upward," which has ever been one of our life mottoes. at that time, a steamer from st. louis required at least two full weeks to reach fort snelling. it was an object with us not to travel on the sabbath, if possible. so we planned to go up beforehand, and take the up-river boat at the highest point. it might be, we thought, that the lord would arrange things for us so that we should reach our mission field without travelling on the day of rest. with this desire we embarked for galena. but saturday night found us passing along by the beautiful country of rock island and davenport. in the latter place mary and i spent a sabbath, and worshipped with a few of the pioneer people who gathered in a school-house. by the middle of the next week we had reached the city of lead. there we found the man who had said to the home missionary society, "if you have a place so difficult that no one wants to go to it, send me there." and they sent the veteran, rev. aratus kent, to galena, illinois. some of the scenes and events connected with our ascent of the mississippi are graphically described by mary's facile pen: "steamboat olive branch, may . "we are now on our way to galena, where we shall probably take a boat for st. peters. we pursue this course, though it subjects us to the inconvenience of changing boats, that we may be able to avoid sabbath travelling, _if possible_. one sabbath at least will be rescued in this way, as the _pavilion_, the only boat for st. peters at present, leaves st. louis on sunday! this we felt would not be right for us, consequently we left alton to-day, trusting that the lord of the sabbath would speed us on our journey of miles, and enable us to keep his sabbath holy unto the end thereof. "of the scenery we have passed this afternoon, and are still passing, i can give you no just conceptions. it beggars description, and yet i wish you could imagine the illinois semi-circular shores lined with high rocks, embosomed by trees of most delicate green, and crowned with a grassy mound of the same tint, or rising more perpendicularly and towering more loftily in solid columns, defying art to form or demolish works so impregnable, and at the same time so grand and beautiful. i have just been gazing at these everlasting rocks mellowed by the soft twilight. a bend in the river and an island made them apparently meet the opposite shore. the departing light of day favored the illusion of a splendid city reaching for miles along the river, built of granite and marble, and shaded by luxuriant groves, all reflected in the quiet waters. this river bears very little resemblance to itself (as geographies name it) after its junction with the missouri. to me it seems a misnomer to name a river from a branch which is so dissimilar. the waters here are comparatively pure and the current mild. below, they are turbid and impetuous, rolling on in their power, and sweeping all in their pathway onward at the rate of five or six miles an hour. "just below the junction we were astonished and amused to see large spots of muddy water surrounded by those of a purer shade, as if they would retain their distinctive character to the last; but in vain, for the lesser was contaminated and swallowed up by the greater. i might moralize on this, but will leave each one to draw his own inferences." "stephenson (now davenport), may . "we left the _olive branch_ between and on saturday night. the lateness of the hour obliged us to accept of such accommodations as presented themselves first, and even made us thankful for them, though they were the most wretched i ever endured. i do not allude to the house or table, though little or nothing could be said in their praise, but to the horrid profanity. connected with the house and adjoining our room was a grocery, a devil's den indeed, and so often were the frequent volleys of dreadful oaths that our hearts grew sick, and we shuddered and sought to shut our ears. notwithstanding all this, we were happier than if we had been travelling on god's holy day. our consciences approved resting according to the commandment, though they did not chide for removing, even on the sabbath, to a house where god's name is not used so irreverently--so profanely." "galena, may . "this place, wild and hilly, we reached this afternoon, and have been very kindly received by some yankee christian friends, where we feel ourselves quite at home, though only inmates of this hospitable mansion a few hours. surely the lord has blessed us above measure in providing warm christian hearts to receive us. mr. and mrs. fuller, where we are, supply the place of the gilmans of alton. we hope to leave in a day or two for fort snelling." "galena, ill., may , . "a kind providence has so ordered our affairs that we are detained here still, and i hope our stay may promote the best interests of the mission. it seems desirable that christians in these villages of the upper mississippi should become interested in the missionaries and the missions among the northern indians, that their prejudices may be overcome and their hearts made to feel the claims those dark tribes have upon their sympathies, their charities, and their prayers." "steamer pavilion, upper mississippi, may . "we are this evening (wednesday) more than miles above prairie du chien, on our way to st. peters, which we hope to reach before the close of the week, that we may be able to keep the sabbath on shore. you will rejoice with us that we have been able, in all our journey of miles, to rest from travelling on the sabbath. last saturday, however, our principles and feelings were tried by this boat, for which we had waited three weeks, and watched anxiously for the last few days, fearing it would subject us to sabbath travelling. saturday eve, after sunset, when our wishes had led us to believe it would not leave, if it should reach galena until monday, we heard a boat, and soon our sight confirmed our ears. mr. riggs hastened on board and ascertained from the captain that he should leave sabbath morning. the inquiry was, shall we break one command in fulfilling another? we soon decided that it was not our duty to commence a journey under these circumstances even, and retired to rest, confident the lord would provide for us. notwithstanding our prospects were rather dark, i felt a secret hope that the lord would detain the _pavilion_ until monday. if i had any faith it was very weak, for i felt deeply conscious we were entirely undeserving such a favor. but judge of our happy surprise, morning and afternoon, on our way to and from church, to find the _pavilion_ still at the wharf. we felt that it was truly a gracious providence. on monday morning we came on board." this week on the upper mississippi was one of quiet joy. we had been nearly three months on our way from mary's home in massachusetts. god had prospered us all the way. wherever we had stopped we had found or made friends. the lord, as we believed, had signally interfered in our behalf, and helped us to "remember the sabbath day," and to give our testimony to its sacred observance. the season of the year was inspiring. a resurrection to new life had just taken place. all external nature had put on her beautiful garments. and day after day--for the boat tied up at night--we found ourselves passing by those grand old hills and wonderful escarpments of the upper mississippi. we were in the wilds of the west, beyond the cabins of the pioneer. we were passing the battle-fields of indian story. nay, more, we were already in the land of the dakotas, and passing by the _teepees_ and the villages of the red man, for whose enlightenment and elevation we had left friends and home. was it strange that this was a week of intense enjoyment, of education, of growth in the life of faith and hope? and so, as i said in the beginning, on the first day of june, , mary and i reached, in safety, the mouth of the minnesota, in the land of the dakotas. chapter ii. .--first knowledge of the sioux.--hennepin and du luth.--fort snelling.--lakes harriet and calhoun.--three months at lake harriet.--samuel w. pond.--learning the language.--mr. stevens.--temporary home.--that station soon broken up.--mary's letters.--the mission and people. native customs.--lord's supper.--"good voice."--description of our home.--the garrison.--seeing st. anthony.--ascent of the st. peters.--mary's letters.--traverse des sioux.--prairie travelling.--reaching lac-qui-parle.--t. s. williamson.--a sabbath service.--our upper room experiences.--church at lac-qui-parle.--mr. pond's marriage.--mary's letters.--feast. about two hundred and forty years ago, the french voyagers and fur traders, as they came from nouvelle, france, up the st. lawrence and the great lakes, began to hear, from indians farther east, of a great and warlike people, whom they called nadouwe or nadowaessi, _enemies_. coming nearer to them, both trader and priest met, at the head of lake superior, representatives of this nation, "numerous and fierce, always at war with other tribes, pushing northward and southward and westward," so that they were sometimes called the "iroquois of the west." but really not much was known of the sioux until the summer of , when hennepin and du luth met in a camp of dakotas, as they hunted buffalo in what is now north-western wisconsin. hennepin had been captured by a war-party, which descended the father of waters in their canoes, seeking for scalps among their enemies, the miamis and illinois. they took him and his companions of the voyage up to their villages on the head-waters of rum river, and around the shores of mille lac and knife lake. from the former of these the eastern band of the sioux nation named themselves mdaywakantonwan, _spirit lake villagers_; and from the latter they inherited the name of santees (isanyati), _dwellers on knife_. these two representative frenchmen, thus brought together, at so early a day, in the wilds of the west, visited the home of the sioux, as above indicated, and to them we are indebted for much of what we know of the dakotas two centuries ago. the ojibwas and hurons were then occupying the southern shores of lake superior, and, coming first into communication with the white race, they were first supplied with fire-arms, which gave them such an advantage over the more warlike sioux that, in the next hundred years, we find the ojibwas in possession of all the country on the head-waters of the mississippi, while the dakotas had migrated southward and westward. the general enlistment of the sioux, and indeed of all these tribes of the north-west, on the side of the british in the war of , showed the necessity of a strong military garrison in the heart of the indian country. hence the building of fort snelling nearly sixty years ago. at the confluence of the minnesota with the mississippi, and on the high point between the two it has an admirable outlook. so it seemed to us as we approached it on that first day of june, . on our landing we became the guests of lieutenant ogden and his excellent wife, who was the daughter of major loomis. to mary and me, every thing was new and strange. we knew nothing of military life. but our sojourn of a few days was made pleasant and profitable by the christian sympathy which met us there--the evidence of the spirit's presence, which, two years before, had culminated in the organization of a christian church in the garrison, on the arrival of the first missionaries to the dakotas. the falls of st. anthony and the beautiful minnehaha have now become historic, and minnetonka has become a place of summer resort. but forty years ago it was only now and then that the eyes of a white man, and still more rarely the eyes of a white woman, looked upon the falls of curling water;[ ] and scarcely any one knew that the water in little falls creek came from minnetonka lake. but nearer by were the beautiful lakes calhoun and harriet. on the first of these was the dakota village, of which _claudman_ and _drifter_ were then the chiefs; and on whose banks the brothers pond had erected the first white man's cabin; and on the north bank of the latter was a mission station of the american board, commenced two years before by rev. jedediah d. stevens. [ ] minnehaha means "curling water," not "laughing water," as many suppose. here we were in daily contact with the dakota men, women, and children. here we began to listen to the strange sounds of the dakota tongue; and here we made our first laughable efforts in speaking the language. we were fortunate in meeting here rev. samuel w. pond, the older of the brothers, who had come out from connecticut three years previous, and, in advance of all others, had erected their missionary cabin on the margin of lake calhoun. mr. pond's knowledge of dakota was quite a help to us, who were just commencing to learn it. before we left the states, it had been impressed upon us by secretary david greene that whether we were successful missionaries or not depended much on our acquiring a free use of the language. and the teaching of my own experience and observation is that if one fails to make a pretty good start the first year in its acquisition, it will be a rare thing if he ever masters the language. and so, obedient to our instructions, we made it our first work to get our ears opened to the strange sounds, and our tongues made cunning for their utterance. oftentimes we laughed at our own blunders, as when i told mary, one day, that _pish_ was the dakota for _fish_. a dakota boy had been trying to speak the english word. mr. stevens had gathered, from various sources, a vocabulary of five or six hundred words. this formed the commencement of the growth of the dakota grammar and dictionary which i published fifteen years afterward. mr. and mrs. stevens were from central new york, and were engaged as early as in missionary labors on the island of mackinaw. in , mr. stevens and rev. mr. coe made a tour of exploration through the wilds of northern wisconsin, coming as far as fort snelling. for several years thereafter, mr. stevens was connected with the stockbridge mission on fox lake; and in the summer of he had commenced this station at lake harriet. at the time of our arrival he had made things look quite civilized. he had built two houses of tamarack logs, the larger of which his own family occupied; the lower part of the other was used for the school and religious meetings. half a dozen boarding scholars, chiefly half-breed girls, formed the nucleus of the school, which was taught by his niece, miss lucy c. stevens, who was afterward married to rev. daniel gavan, of the swiss mission to the dakotas. as the mission family was already quite large enough for comfort, mary and i, not wishing to add to any one's burdens, undertook to make ourselves comfortable in a part of the school-building. our stay there was to be only temporary, and hence it was only needful that we take care of ourselves, and give such occasional help in the way of english preaching and otherwise as we could. the dakotas did not yet care to hear the gospel. the messrs. pond had succeeded in teaching one young man to read and write, and occasionally a few could be induced to come and listen to the good news. it was seed-sowing time. many seeds fell by the wayside or on the hard path of sin. most fell among thorns. but some found good ground, and, lying dormant a full quarter of a century, then sprang up and fruited in the prison at mankato. also of the girls in that first dakota boarding-school quite a good proportion became christian women and the mothers of christian families. but the mission at lake harriet was not to continue long. in less than two years from the time we were there, two ojibwa young men avenged the killing of their father by waylaying and killing a prominent man of the lake calhoun village. a thousand ojibwas had just left fort snelling to return to their homes by way of lake st. croix and the rum river. both parties were followed by the sioux, and terrible slaughter ensued. but the result of their splendid victory was that the lake calhoun people were afraid to live there any longer, and so they abandoned their village and plantings and settled on the banks of the minnesota. during our three months' stay at lake harriet, every thing we saw and heard was fresh and interesting, and mary could not help telling of them to her friends in hawley. the grandfather was ninety years old, to whom she thus wrote:-- "lake harriet, june , . "we are now on missionary ground, and are surrounded by those dark people of whom we often talked at your fireside last winter. i doubt not you will still think and talk about them, and pray for them also. and surely your grandchildren will not be forgotten. "we reached this station two weeks since, after enjoying lieutenant ogden's hospitality a few days, and were kindly welcomed by mr. stevens' family, with whom we remain until a house, now occupied by the school, can be prepared, so that we can live in a part of it. then we shall feel still more at home, though i hope our rude habitation will remind us that we are pilgrims on our way to a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. "the situation of the mission houses is very beautiful,--on a little eminence, just upon the shore of a lovely lake skirted with trees. about a mile north of us is lake calhoun, on the margin of which is an indian village of about twenty lodges. most of these are bark houses, some of which are twenty feet square, and others are tents, of skin or cloth. several days since i walked over to the village, and called at the house of one of the chiefs. he was not at home, but his daughters smiled very good-naturedly upon us. we seated ourselves on a frame extending on three sides of the house, covered with skins, which was all the bed, sofa, and chairs they had. "since our visit at the village, two old chiefs have called upon us. one said, this was a very bad country,--ours was a good country,--we had left a good country, and come to live in his bad country, and he was glad. the other called on sabbath evening, when mr. riggs was at the fort, where he preaches occasionally. he inquired politely how i liked the country, and said it was bad. what could a courtier have said more? "the indians come here at all hours of the day without ceremony, sometimes dressed and painted very fantastically, and again with scarcely any clothing. one came in yesterday dressed in a coat, calico shirt, and cloth leggins, the only one i have seen with a coat, excepting two boys who were in the family when we came. the most singular ornament i have seen was a large striped snake, fastened among the painted hair, feathers, and ribbons of an indian's head-dress, in such a manner that it could coil round in front and dart out its snake head, or creep down upon the back at pleasure. during this the indian sat perfectly at ease, apparently much pleased at the astonishment and fear manifested by some of the family." "june . "yesterday mr. riggs and myself commemorated a saviour's love for the first time on missionary ground. the season was one of precious interest, sitting down at jesus' table with a little band of brothers and sisters, one of whom was a chippewa convert, who accompanied mr. ayer from pokeguma. one of the methodist missionaries, mr. king, with a colored man, and the members of the church from the fort and the mission, completed our band of _fifteen_. two of these were received on this occasion. several sioux were present, and gazed on the strange scene before them. a medicine man, _howashta_ by name, was present, with a long pole in his hand, having his head decked with a stuffed bird of brilliant plumage, and the tail of another of dark brown. his name means 'good voice,' and he is building him a log house not far from the mission. if _he_ could be brought into the fold of the kind shepherd, and become a humble and devoted follower of jesus, he might be instrumental of great good to his people. he might indeed be a _good voice_ bringing glad tidings to their dark souls." to her mother. "home, july , . "would that you could look in upon us; but as you can not, i will try and give you some idea of our _home_. the building fronts the lake, but our part opens upon the woodland back of its western shore. the lower room has a small cooking-stove, given us by mrs. burgess, a few chairs and a small table, a box and barrel containing dishes, etc., a small will-be pantry, when completed, under the stairs, filled with flour, corn-meal, beans, and stove furniture. our chamber is low, and nearly filled by a bed, a small bureau and stand, a table for writing, made of a box, and the rest of our half-dozen chairs and one rocking-chair, cushioned by my mother's kind forethought. "the rough, loose boards in the chamber are covered with a coarse and cheap hair-and-tow carpeting, to save labor. the floor below will require some cleaning, but i shall not try to keep it white. i have succeeded very well, according to my judgment, in household affairs,--that is, very well for me. "some indian women came in yesterday bringing strawberries, which i purchased with beans. poor creatures, they have very little food of any kind at this season of the year, and we feel it difficult to know how much it is our duty to give them. "we are not troubled with all the insects which used to annoy me in indiana, but the mosquitoes are far more abundant. at dark, swarms fill our room, deafen our ears, and irritate our skin. for the last two evenings we have filled our house with smoke, almost to suffocation, to disperse these our officious visitors." "july . "until my location here, i was not aware that it was so exceedingly common for officers in the army to have two wives or more,--but one, of course, legally so. for instance, at the fort, before the removal of the last troops, there were but two officers who were not known to have an indian woman, if not half-indian children. you remember i used to cherish some partiality for the military, but i must confess the last vestige of it has departed. i am not now thinking of its connection with the peace question, but with that of moral reform. once, in my childhood's simplicity, i regarded the army and its discipline as a school for gentlemanly manners, but now it seems a sink of iniquity, a school of vice." with the month of september came the time of our departure for lac-qui-parle. but mary had not yet seen the falls of st. anthony. and so we harnessed up a horse and cart, and had a pleasant ride across the prairie to the government saw-mill, which, with a small dwelling for the soldier occupant, was then the only sign of civilization on the present site of minneapolis. then we had our household goods packed up and put on board mr. prescott's mackinaw boat, to be carried up to traverse des sioux. mr. prescott was a white man with a dakota wife, and had been for years engaged in the fur trade. he had on board his winter outfit. mary and i took passage with him and his family, and spent a week of new life on what was then called the saint peter's river. the days were very enjoyable, and the nights were quite comfortable, for we had all the advantages of mr. prescott's tent and conveniences for camp life. his propelling force was the muscles of five frenchmen, who worked the oars and the poles, sometimes paddling and sometimes pushing, and often, in the upper part of the voyage, wading to find the best channel over a sand-bar. but they enjoyed their work, and sang songs by the way. from mary's letters "sept. , . "dr. williamson arrived at lake harriet after a six days' journey from home, and assured us of their kindest wishes, and their willingness to furnish us with corn and potatoes, and a room in their house. we have just breakfasted on board our mackinaw, and so far on our way have had cause for thankfulness that god so overruled events, even though some attendant circumstances were unpleasant. it is also a great source of comfort that we have so good accommodations and sabbath-keeping company. you recollect my mentioning the marriage of mr. and mrs. prescott, and of his uniting with the church at lake harriet, in the summer. "perhaps you may feel some curiosity respecting our appearance and that of our barge. fancy a large boat of forty feet in length, and perhaps eight in width in the middle, capable of carrying five tons, and manned by five men, four at the oars and a steersman at the stern. near the centre are our sleeping accommodations nicely rolled up, on which we sit, and breakfast and dine on bread, cold ham, wild fowl, etc. we have tea and coffee for breakfast and supper. mrs. prescott does not pitch and strike the tent, as the indian women usually do; but it is because the boatmen can do it, and her husband does not require as much of her as an indian man. they accommodate us in their tent, which is similar to a soldier's tent, just large enough for two beds. here we take our supper, sitting on or by the matting made by some of these western indians, and then, after worship, lie down to rest." "monday, sept. . "again we are on our way up the crooked saint peter's, having passed the sabbath in our tent in the wilderness, far more pleasantly than the sabbath we spent in st. louis. last saturday i became quite fatigued sympathizing with those who drew the boat on the rapids, and with following my indian guide, mrs. prescott, through the woods, to take the boat above them. the fall at this stage of water was, i should think, two feet, and nearly perpendicular, excepting a very narrow channel, where it was slanting. the boat being lightened, all the men attempted to force it up this channel, some by the rope attached to the boat, and others by pulling and pushing it as they stood by it on the rocks and in the water. both the first and second attempts were fruitless. the second time the rope was lengthened and slipped round a tree on the high bank, where the trader's wife and i were standing. her husband called her to hold the end of the rope, and, as i could not stand idle, though i knew i could do no good, i joined her, watching the slowly ascending boat with the deepest interest. a moment more and the toil would have been over, when the rope snapped, and the boat slid back in a twinkling. it was further lightened and the rope doubled, and then it was drawn safely up and re-packed, in about two hours and a half from the time we reached the rapids." "tuesday, sept. . "in good health and spirits, we are again on our way. as the river is shallow and the bottom hard, poles have been substituted for oars; boards placed along the boat's sides serve for a footpath for the boatmen, who propel the boat by fixing the pole into the earth at the prow and pushing until they reach the stern. "at traverse des sioux our land journey, of one hundred and twenty-five miles to lac-qui-parle, commenced. here we made the acquaintance of a somewhat remarkable french trader, by name louis provencalle, but commonly called le bland. the indians called him skadan, _little white_. he was an old voyager, who could neither read nor write, but, by a certain force of character, he had risen to the honorable position of trader. he kept his accounts with his indian debtors by a system of hieroglyphics. "for the next week we were under the convoy of dr. thomas s. williamson and mr. gideon h. pond, who met us with teams from lac-qui-parle. the first night of our camping on the prairie, dr. williamson taught me a lesson which i never forgot. we were preparing the tent for the night, and i was disposed to let the roughness of the surface remain, and not even gather grass for a bed, which the indians do; on the ground, as i said, that it was for _only one night_. 'but,' said the doctor, 'there will be a _great many one nights_.' and so i have found it. it is best to make the tent comfortable for _one night_." this was our first introduction--mary's and mine--to the broad prairies of the west. at first, we kept in sight of the woods of the minnesota, and our road lay among and through little groves of timber. but by and by we emerged into the broad savannahs--thousands of acres of meadow unmowed, and broad rolling country covered, at this time of year, with yellow and blue flowers. every thing was full of interest to us, even the bad swamp,--wewe shecha,--which so bent and shook under the tramp of our teams, that we could almost believe it would break through and let us into the earth's centre. for years after, this was the great _fear_ of our prairie travelling, always reminding us very forcibly of bunyan's description of the "slough of despond." the only accident of this journey was the breaking of the axle of one of mr. pond's loaded carts. it was saturday afternoon. mr. pond and dr. williamson remained to make a new one, and mary and i went on to the stream where we were to camp, and made ready for the sabbath. "on the broad prairie of 'the far west.' "saturday eve., sept. , . "_my ever dear mother:_-- "just at twilight i seat myself upon the ground by our fire, with the wide heavens above for a canopy, to commune with her whose yearning heart follows her children wherever they roam. this is the second day we have travelled on this prairie, having left traverse des sioux late thursday afternoon. before leaving that place, a little half-indian girl, daughter of the trader where we stopped, brought me nearly a dozen of eggs (the first i had seen since leaving the states), which afforded us a choice morsel for the next day. to-morrow we rest, it being the sabbath, and may we and you be in the spirit on the lord's day." "lac-qui-parle, sept. . "the date will tell you of our arrival at this station, where we have found a _home_. we reached this place on wednesday last, having been thirteen days from fort snelling, a shorter time than is usually required for such a journey, the lord's hand being over us to guide and prosper us on our way. two sabbaths we rested from our travels, and the last of them was peculiarly refreshing to body and spirit. having risen and put our tent in order, we engaged in family worship, and afterward partook of our frugal meal. then all was still in that wide wilderness, save at intervals, when some bird of passage told us of its flight and bade our wintry clime farewell. "before noon we had a season of social worship, lifting up our hearts with one voice in prayer and praise, and reading a portion of god's word. it was indeed pleasant to think that god was present with us, far away as we were from any human being but ourselves. the day passed peacefully away, and night's refreshing slumbers succeeded. the next morning we were on our way before the sun began his race, and having ridden fifteen or sixteen miles, according to our best calculations, we stopped for breakfast and dinner at a lake where wood and water could both be obtained, two essentials which frequently are not found together on the prairie. "thus you will be able to imagine us with our two one-ox carts and a double wagon, all heavily laden, as we have travelled across the prairie." thomas smith williamson had been ten years a practising physician in ripley, ohio. there he had married margaret poage, of one of the first families. one after another their children had died. perhaps that led them to think that god had a work for them to do elsewhere. at any rate, after spending a year in the lane theological seminary, the doctor turned his thoughts toward the sioux, for whom no man seemed to care. in the spring of he made a visit up to fort snelling. and in the year following, as has already been noted, he came as a missionary of the a. b. c. f. m., with his wife and one child, accompanied by miss sarah poage, mrs. williamson's sister, and mr. alexander g. huggins and his wife, with two children. this company reached fort snelling a week or two in advance of mr. stevens, and were making preparations to build at lake calhoun; but mr. stevens claimed the right of selection, on the ground that he had been there in . and so dr. williamson and his party accepted the invitation of mr. joseph renville, the bois brule trader at lac-qui-parle, to go two hundred miles into the interior. all this was of the lord, as it plainly appeared in after years. at the time we approached the mission at lac-qui-parle, they had been two full years in the field, and, under favorable auspices, had made a very good beginning. about the middle of september, after a pretty good week of prairie travel, we were very glad to receive the greetings of the mission families.... a few days after our arrival, mary wrote: "the evening we came, we were shown _a little chamber_, where we spread our bed and took up our abode. on friday, mr. riggs made a bedstead, by boring holes and driving slabs into the logs, across which boards are laid. this answers the purpose very well, though rather uneven. yesterday was the sabbath, and such a sabbath as i never before enjoyed. although the day was cold and stormy, and much like november, twenty-five indians and part-bloods assembled at eleven o'clock in our school-room for public worship. excepting a prayer, all the exercises were in dakota and french, and most of them in the former language. could you have seen these indians kneel with stillness and order, during prayer, and rise and engage in singing hymns in their own tongue, led by one of their own tribe, i am sure your heart would have been touched. the hymns were composed by mr. renville the trader, who is probably three-fourths sioux." * * * * * doctor williamson had erected a log house a story and a half high. in the lower part was his own living-room, and also a room with a large open fire-place, which then, and for several years afterward, was used for the school and sabbath assemblies. in the upper part there were three rooms, still in an unfinished state. the largest of these, ten feet wide and eighteen feet long, was appropriated to our use. we fixed it up with loose boards overhead, and quilts nailed up to the rafters, and improvised a bedstead, as we had been unable to bring ours farther than fort snelling. that room we made our home for five winters. there were some hardships about such close quarters, but, all in all, mary and i never enjoyed five winters better than those spent in that upper room. there our first three children were born. there we worked in acquiring the language. there we received our dakota visitors. there i wrote and wrote again my ever growing dictionary. and there, with what help i could obtain, i prepared for the printer the greater part of the new testament in the language of the dakotas. it was a consecrated room. well, we had set up our cooking-stove in our upper room, but the furniture was a hundred and twenty-five miles away. it was not easy for mary to cook with nothing to cook in. but the good women of the mission came to her relief with kettle and pan. more than this, there were some things to be done now which neither mary nor i had learned to do. she was not an adept at making light bread, and neither of us could milk a cow. she grew up in new england, where the men alone did the milking, and i in ohio, where the women alone milked in those days. at first it took us both to milk a cow, and it was poorly done. but mary succeeded best. nevertheless, application and perseverance succeeded, and, although never boasting of any special ability in that line of things, i could do my own milking, and mary became very skilful in bread-making, as well as in other mysteries of housekeeping. * * * * * the missionary work began now to open before us. the village at lac-qui-parle consisted of about persons, chiefly of the wahpaton, or leaf-village band of the dakotas. they were very poor and very proud. mr. renville, as a half-breed and fur-trader, had acquired an unbounded influence over many of them. they were willing to follow his leading. and so the young men of his soldiers' lodge were the first, after his own family, to learn to read. on the sabbath, there gathered into this lower room twenty or thirty men and women, but mostly women, to hear the word as prepared by dr. williamson with mr. renville's aid. a few dakota hymns had been made, and were sung under the leadership of mr. huggins or young mr. joseph renville. mr. renville and mr. pond made the prayers in dakota. early in the year , a church had been organized, which at this time contained seven native members, chiefly from mr. renville's household. and in the winter which followed our arrival nine were added, making a native church of sixteen, of which one half were full-blood dakota women, and in the others the dakota blood greatly predominated. one of the noted things that took place in those autumn days was the marriage of mr. gideon holister pond and miss sarah poage. that was the first couple i married, and i look back to it with great satisfaction. the bond has been long since sundered by death, but it was a true covenant entered into by true hearts, and receiving, from the first, the blessing of the master. mr. pond made a great feast, and "called the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind," and many such dakotas were there to be called. _they_ could not recompense him by inviting him again, and it yet remains that "he shall be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." nov. . "yesterday the marriage referred to was solemnized. could i paint the assembly, you would agree with me that it was deeply and singularly interesting. fancy, for a moment, the audience who were witnesses of the scene. the rest of our missionary band sat near those of our number who were about to enter into the new and sacred relationship, while most of the room was filled with our dark-faced guests, a blanket or a buffalo robe their chief 'wedding garment,' and coarse and tawdry beads, brooches, paint, and feathers their wedding ornaments. here and there sat a frenchman or half-breed, whose garb bespoke their different origin. no turkey or eagle feathers adorned the hair, or parti-colored paint the face, though even _their_ appearance and attire reminded us of our location in this wilderness. "mr. riggs performed the marriage ceremony, and dr. williamson made the concluding prayer, and, through mr. renville, briefly explained to the dakotas the ordinance and its institution. after the ceremony, mr. renville and family partook with us of our frugal meal, leaving the indians to enjoy their feast of potatoes, turnips, and bacon, to which the poor, the lame, and the blind had been invited. as they were not aware of the supper that was provided, they did not bring their dishes, as is the indian custom, so that they were scantily furnished with milk-pans, etc. this deficiency they supplied very readily by emptying the first course, which was potatoes, into their blankets, and passing their dishes for a supply of turnips and bacon. "i know not when i have seen a group so novel as i found on repairing to the room where these poor creatures were promiscuously seated. on my left sat an old man nearly blind; before me, the woman who dipped out the potatoes from a five-pail boiler sat on the floor; and near her was an old man dividing the bacon, clenching it firmly in his hand, and looking up occasionally to see how many there were requiring a share. in the corner sat a lame man eagerly devouring his potatoes, and around were scattered women and children. "when the last ladle was filled from the large pot of turnips, one by one they hastily departed, borrowing dishes to carry home the supper, to divide with the children who had remained in charge of the tents." chapter iii. - .--the language.--its growth.--system of notation.--after changes.--what we had to put into the language.--teaching english and teaching dakota.--mary's letter.--fort renville.--translating the bible.--the gospels of mark and john.--"good bird" born.--dakota names.--the lessons we learned.--dakota washing.--extracts from letters.--dakota tents.--a marriage.--visiting the village.--girls, boys, and dogs.--g. h. pond's indian hunt.--three families killed.--the village wail.--the power of a name.--post-office far away.--the coming of the mail.--s. w. pond comes up.--my visit to snelling.--lost my horse.--dr. williamson goes to ohio.--the spirit's presence.--prayer.--mary's reports. to learn an unwritten language, and to reduce it to a form that can be seen as well as heard, is confessedly a work of no small magnitude. hitherto it has seemed to exist only in sound. but it has been, all through the past ages, worked out and up by the forges of human hearts. it has been made to express the lightest thoughts as well as the heart-throbs of men and women and children in their generations. the human mind, in its most untutored state, is god's creation. it may not stamp purity nor even goodness on its language, but it always, i think, stamps it with the deepest philosophy. so far, at least, language is of divine origin. the unlearned dakota may not be able to give any definition for any single word that he has been using all his life-time,--he may say, "it means that, and can't mean any thing else,"--yet, all the while, in the mental workshop of the people, unconsciously and very slowly it may be, but no less very surely, these words of air are newly coined. no angle can turn up, but by and by it will be worn off by use. no ungrammatical expression can come in that will not be rejected by the best thinkers and speakers. new words will be coined to meet the mind's wants; and new forms of expression, which at the first are bungling descriptions only, will be pared down and tucked up so as to come into harmony with the living language. but it was no part of our business to make the dakota language. it was simply the missionary's work to report it faithfully. the system of notation had in the main been settled upon before mary and i joined the mission. it was, of course, to be phonetic, as nearly as possible. the english alphabet was to be used as far as it could be. these were the principles that guided and controlled the writing of dakota. in their application it was soon found that only five pure vowel sounds were used. so far the work was easy. then it was found that x and v and r and g and j and f and c, with their english powers, were not needed. but there were four _clicks_ and two _gutturals_ and a _nasal_ that must in some way be expressed. it was then, even more than now, a matter of pecuniary importance that the language to be printed should require as few new characters as possible. and so n was taken to represent the nasal; q represented one of the clicks; g and r represented the gutturals; and c and j and x were used to represent ch, zh, and sh. the other clicks were represented by marked letters. since that time, some changes have been made: x and r have been discarded from the purely dakota alphabet. in the dakota grammar and dictionary, which was published fifteen years afterward, an effort was made to make the notation philosophical, and accordant with itself. the changes which have since been adopted have all been in the line of the dictionary. when we missionaries had gathered and expressed and arranged the words of this language, what had we to put into it, and what great gifts had we for the dakota people? what will you give me? has always been their cry. we brought to them the word of life, the gospel of salvation through faith in jesus christ our lord, as contained in the bible. not to preach christ to them only, that they might have life, but to engraft his living words into their living thoughts, so that they might grow into his spirit more and more, was the object of our coming. the labor of writing the language was undertaken as a means to a greater end. to put god's thoughts into their speech, and to teach them to read in their own tongue the wonderful works of god, was what brought us to the land of the dakotas. but they could not appreciate this. ever and anon came the question, what will you give me? and so, when we would proclaim the "old, old story" to those proud dakota men at lac-qui-parle, we had to begin with kettles of boiled pumpkins, turnips, and potatoes. the bread that perisheth could be appreciated--the bread of life was still beyond their comprehension. but by and by it was to find its proper nesting-place. it was very fortunate for the work of education among the dakotas that it had such a staunch and influential friend as joseph renville, sr., of lac-qui-parle. it was never certainly known whether mr. renville could read his french bible or not. but he had seen so much of the advantages of education among the white people, that he greatly desired his own children should learn to read and write, both in dakota and english, and through his whole life gave his influence in favor of dakota education. sarah poage, afterward mrs. g. h. pond, had come as a teacher, and had, from their first arrival at lac-qui-parle, been so employed. mr. renville had four daughters, all of them young women, who had, with some other half-breeds, made an english class. they had learned to read the language, but understood very little of it, and were not willing to speak even what they understood. all through these years the teaching of english, commenced at the beginning of our mission work, although found to be very difficult and not producing much apparent fruit, has never been abandoned. but for the purposes of civilization, and especially of christianization, we have found culture in the native tongue indispensable. to teach the classes in english was in mary's line of life. she at once relieved miss poage of this part of her work, and continued in it, with some intervals, for several years. often she was greatly tried, not by the inability of her dakota young lady scholars, but by their unwillingness to make such efforts as to gain the mastery of english. teaching in dakota was a different thing. it was their own language. the lessons, printed with open type and a brush on old newspapers, and hung round the walls of the school-room, were words that had a meaning even to a dakota child. it was not difficult. a young man has sometimes come in, proud and unwilling to be taught, but, by sitting there and looking and listening to others, he has started up with the announcement, "i am able." some small books had already been printed. others were afterward provided. but the work of works, which in some sense took precedence of all others, was then commencing, and has not yet been quite completed--that of putting the bible into the language of the dakotas.[ ] [ ] completed in . "nov. , . "i make very slow progress in learning dakota, and could you hear the odd combinations of it with english which we allow ourselves, you would doubtless be somewhat amused, if not puzzled to guess our meaning, though our speech would betray us, for the little dakota we can use we can not speak like the indians. the peculiar tone and ease are wanting, and several sounds i have been entirely unable to make; so that, in my case at least, there would be 'shibboleths' not a few. and these cause the dakota pupils to laugh very frequently when i am trying to explain, or lead them to understand some of the most simple things about arithmetic. perhaps you will think them impolite, and so should i if they had been educated in a civilized land, but now i am willing to bear with them, if i can teach them any thing in the hour which is allotted for this purpose. "as yet i have devoted no time to any except those who are attempting to learn english, and my class will probably consist of five girls and two or three boys. two of the boys, who, we hope, will learn english, are full dakotas, and, if their hearts were renewed, might be very useful as preachers of the gospel to their own degraded people." fort renville, as it was sometimes called, was a stockade, made for defence in case of an invasion by the ojibwas, who had been from time immemorial at war with the sioux. inside of this stockade stood mr. renville's hewed-log house, consisting of a store-house and two dwellings. mr. renville's reception-room was of good size, with a large open fireplace, in which his frenchmen, or "french-boys," as they were called by the indians, piled up an enormous quantity of wood of a cold day, setting it up on end, and thus making a fire to be felt as well as seen. here the chief indian men of the village gathered to smoke and talk. a bench ran almost around the entire room, on which they sat or reclined. mr. renville usually sat on a chair in the middle of the room. he was a small man with rather a long face and head developed upward. a favorite position of his was to sit with his feet crossed under him like a tailor. this room was the place of bible translating. dr. williamson and mr. g. h. pond had both learned to read french. the former usually talked with mr. renville in french, and, in the work of translating, read from the french bible, verse by verse. mr. renville's memory had been specially cultivated by having been much employed as interpreter between the dakotas and the french. it seldom happened that he needed to have the verse re-read to him. but it often happened that we, who wrote the dakota from his lips, needed to have it repeated in order that we should get it exactly and fully. when the verse or sentence was finished, the dakota was read by one of the company. we were all only beginners in writing the dakota language, and i more than the others. sometimes mr. renville showed, by the twinkle of his eye, his conscious superiority to us, when he repeated a long and difficult sentence and found that we had forgotten the beginning. but ordinarily he was patient with us, and ready to repeat. by this process, continued from week to week during that first winter of ours at lac-qui-parle, a pretty good translation of the gospel of mark was completed, besides some fugitive chapters from other parts. in the two following winters the gospel of john was translated in the same way. besides giving these portions of the word of god to the dakotas sooner than it could have been done by the missionaries alone, these translations were invaluable to us as a means of studying the structure of the language, and as determining, in advance of our own efforts in this line, the forms or moulds of many new ideas which the word contains. in after years we always felt safe in referring to mr. renville as authority in regard to the form of a dakota expression. * * * * * during this first year that mary and i spent in the dakota country, there were coming to us continually new experiences. one of the most common, and yet one of the most thrilling and abiding, was in the birth of our first-born. in motherhood and fatherhood are found large lessons in life. the mother called her first-born child alfred longley, naming him for a very dear brother of hers. the dakotas named this baby boy of ours good bird (_zitkadan washtay_). they said that it was a good name. in those days it was a habit with them to give names to the white people who came among them. dr. williamson they called _payjehoota wechasta_--medicine man, or, more literally, grass-root man--that is, _doctor_. to mr. g. h. pond they gave the name _matohota_, grizzly-bear. mr. s. w. pond was _wamdedoota_, red-eagle. to me they gave the name of _tamakoche_, his country. they said some good dakota long ago had borne that name. to mary they gave the name of _payuha_. at first they gutturalized the h, which made it mean _curly-head_--her black hair did curl a good deal; but afterward they naturalized the h, and said it meant _having-a-head_. the winter as it passed by had other lessons for us. for me it was quite a chore to cut and carry up wood enough to keep our somewhat open upper room cosey and comfortable. mary had more ambition than i had to get native help. she had not been accustomed to do a day's washing. it came hard to her. the other women of the mission preferred to wash for themselves rather than train natives to do it. and indeed, at the beginning, that was found to be no easy task. for, in the first place, dakota women did not wash. usually they put on a garment and wore it until it rotted off. this was pretty much the rule. no good, decent woman could be found willing to do for white people what they did not do for themselves. we could hire all the first women of the village to hoe corn or dig potatoes, but not one would take hold of the wash-tub. and so it was that mary's first washer-women were of the lowest class, and not very reputable characters. but she persevered and conquered. only a few years had passed when the wash-women of the mission were of the best women of the village. and the effort proved a great public benefaction. the gospel of soap was indeed a necessary adjunct and outgrowth of the gospel of salvation. "dec. . "my first use of the pen since the peculiar manifestation of god's loving kindness we have so recently experienced shall be for you, my dear parents. that you will with us bless the lord, as did the psalmist in one of my favorite psalms, the d, we do not doubt; for i am sure you will regard my being able so soon to write as a proof of god's tender mercy. i have been very comfortable most of the time during the past week. as our little one cries, and i am now his chief nurse, i must lay aside my pen and paper and attend to his wants, for mr. riggs is absent, procuring, with dr. w. and mr. pond, the translation of mark, from mr. renville." "dec. . "yesterday our dear little babe was three weeks old. i washed with as little fatigue as i could expect; still, i should have thought it right to have employed some one, was there any one to be employed who could be trusted. but the dakota women, besides not knowing how to wash, need constant and vigilant watching. poor creatures, thieves from habit, and from a kind of necessity, though one of their own creating!" "jan. . "the dakota tent is formed of buffalo-skins, stretched on long poles placed on the ground in a circle, and meeting at the top, where a hole is left from which the smoke of the fire in the centre issues. others are made of bark tied to the poles placed in a similar manner. a small place is left for a door of skin stretched on sticks and hinged with strings at the top, so that the person entering raises it from the bottom and crawls in. at this season of the year the door is protected by a covered passage formed by stakes driven into the ground several feet apart, and thatched with grass. here they keep their wood, which the women cut this cold weather, the thermometer at eighteen to twenty degrees below zero. and should you lift the little door, you would find a cold, smoky lodge about twelve feet in diameter, a mother and her child, a blanket or two, or a skin, a kettle, and possibly in some of them a sack of corn." "thursday eve., jan. . "quite unexpectedly, this afternoon we received an invitation to a wedding at mr. renville's, one of his daughters marrying a frenchman. we gladly availed ourselves of an ox-sled, the only vehicle we could command, and a little before three o'clock we were in the guest-chamber. mr. renville, who is part dakota, received us with french politeness, and soon after the rest of the family entered. these, with several dakota men and women seated on benches, or on the floor around the room, formed not an uninteresting group. the marriage ceremony was in french and dakota, and was soon over. then the bridegroom rose, shook hands with his wife's relations, and kissed her mother, and the bride also kissed all her father's family. "when supper was announced as ready, we repaired to a table amply supplied with beef and mutton, potatoes, bread, and tea. though some of them were not prepared as they would have been in the states, they did not seem so singular as a dish that i was unable to determine what it could be, until an additional supply of _blood_ was offered me. i do not know how it was cooked, though it might have been fried with pepper and onions, and i am told it is esteemed as very good. the poor indians throw nothing away, whether of beast or bird, but consider both inside and outside delicious broiled on the coals." "april . "yesterday afternoon mrs. pond and myself walked to 'the lodges.' as the st. peter's now covers a large part of the bottom, we wound our way in the narrow indian path on the side of the hill. an indian woman, with her babe fastened upon its board at her back, walked before us, and as the grass on each side of the foot-path made it uncomfortable walking side by side, we conformed to dakota custom, one following the other. for a few moments we kept pace with our guide, but she, soon outstripping us, turned a corner and was out of sight. as we wished for a view of the lake and river, we climbed the hill. there we saw the st. peter's, which in the summer is a narrow and shallow stream, extending over miles of land, with here and there a higher spot peeping out as an island in the midst of the sea. the haze prevented our having a good view of the lake. "after counting thirty lodges stretched along below us, we descended and entered one, where we found a sick woman, who said she had not sat up for a long time, lying on a little bundle of hay. another lodge we found full of corn, the owners having subsisted on deer and other game while absent during the winter. "when we had called at mr. renville's, which was a little beyond, we returned through the heart of the village, attended by such a retinue as i have never before seen, and such strange intermingling of laughing and shouting of children and barking of dogs as i never heard. amazed, and almost deafened by the clamor, i turned to gaze upon the unique group. some of the older girls were close upon our heels, but as we stopped they also halted, and those behind slackened their pace. boys and girls of from four to twelve years of age, some wrapped in their blankets, more without, and quite a number of boys almost or entirely destitute of clothing, with a large number of dogs of various sizes and colors, presented themselves in an irregular line. as all of the indians here have pitched their lodges together, i suppose there might have been thirty or forty children in our train. when we reached home, i found little alfred happy and quiet, in the same place on the bed i had left him more than two hours previous, his father having been busy studying dakota. "this evening two indian women came and sat a little while in our happy home. one of them had a babe about the age of alfred. you would have smiled to see the plump, undressed child peeping out from its warm blanket like a little unfledged bird from its mossy nest." mr. pond had long been yearning to see inside of an indian. he had been wanting to be an indian, if only for half an hour, that he might know how an indian felt and by what motives he could be moved. and so when the early spring of came, and the ducks began to come northward, a half-dozen families started out from lac-qui-parle to hunt and trap on the upper part of the chippewa river, in the neighborhood of where is now the town of benson, in minnesota. mr. pond went with them, and was gone two weeks. it was in the first of april, and the streams were flooded, and the water was cold. there should have been enough of game easily obtained to feed the party well. so the indians thought. but it did not prove so. a cold spell came on, the ducks disappeared, and mr. pond and his indian hunters were reduced to scanty fare, and sometimes to nothing, for a whole day. but mr. pond was seeing inside of indians, and was quite willing to starve a good deal in the process. however, his stay with them, and their hunt for that time as well, was suddenly terminated. it appears that during the winter some rumors of peace visits from the ojibwas had reached the dakotas, so that this hunting party were somewhat prepared to meet ojibwas who should come with this announced purpose. the half-dozen teepees had divided. mr. pond was with round wind, who had removed from the three teepees that remained. on thursday evening there came hole-in-the-day, an ojibwa chief, with ten men. they had come to smoke the peace-pipe, they said. the three dakota tents contained but three men and ten or eleven women and children. but, while starving themselves, they would entertain their visitors in the most royal style. two dogs were killed and they were feasted, and then all lay down to rest. but the ojibwas were false. they arose at midnight and killed their dakota hosts. in the morning but one woman and a boy remained alive of the fourteen in the three teepees the night before, and the boy was badly wounded. it was a cowardly act of the ojibwas, and one that was terribly avenged afterward. when mr. pond had helped to bury the dead and mangled remains of these three families, he started for home, and was the first to bring the sad news to their friends at lac-qui-parle. to him quite an experience was bound up in those two weeks, and the marvel was, why he was not then among the slain. to mary and me it opened a whole store-house of instruction, as we listened to the wail of the whole village, and especially when the old women came with dishevelled heads and ragged clothes, and cried and sang around our house, and _begged in the name of our first-born_. we discovered all at once the power of a name. and if an earthly name has such power, much more the name that is above every name--much more the name of the only begotten of the heavenly father. * * * * * lac-qui-parle was in those days much shut out from the great world. we were two hundred miles away from our post-office at fort snelling. we seldom received a letter from massachusetts or ohio in less than three months after it was written. often it was much longer, for there were several times during our stay at lac-qui-parle when we passed three months, and once five months, without a mail. we used to pray that the mail would not come in the evening. if it did, good-by sleep! if it came in the early part of the day, we could look it over and become quieted by night. our communication with the post-office was generally through the men engaged in the fur-trade. some of them had no sympathy with us as missionaries, but they were ever willing to do us a favor as men and americans. sometimes we sent and received our mail by indians. that was a very costly way. the postage charged by the government--although it was then twenty-five cents on a letter--was no compensation for a dakota in those days. it is fortunate for them that they have learned better the value of work. once a year, at least, it seemed best that one of ourselves should go down to the mouth of the minnesota. our annual supplies were to be brought up, and various matters of business transacted. i was sent down in the spring of , and i considered myself fortunate in having the company of rev. s. w. pond. this was mr. pond's second visit to lac-qui-parle on foot. the first was made over two years before, in midwinter. that was a fearful journey. what with ignorance of the country, and deep snows, and starvation, and an ugly indian for his guide, mr. pond came near reaching the spirit land before he came to lac-qui-parle. this second time he came under better auspices, and, having spent several weeks with us, during which many questions of interest with regard to the language and the mission work were discussed, he and i made a part of mr. renville's caravan to the fur depot of the american fur company at mendota, in charge of h. h. sibley, a manly man, since that time occupying a prominent position in minnesota. to make this trip i was furnished by the mission with a valuable young horse, gentle and kind, but not possessed of much endurance. at any rate, he took sick while i was away, and never reached home. the result may have been owing a good deal to my want of skill in taking care of horses, and in travelling through the bogs and quagmires of this new country. i could not but be profoundly sorry when obliged to leave him, as it entailed upon me other hardships for which i was not well prepared. reaching the traverse des sioux on foot, i found joseph r. brown, even then an old indian trader, coming up with some led horses. he kindly gave me the use of two with which to bring up my loaded cart. that was a really good samaritan work, which i have always remembered with gratitude. when the first snows were beginning to fall in the coming winter, and not till then, dr. williamson was ready to make his trip to ohio. the gospel of mark and some smaller portions of the bible he had prepared for the press. the journey was undertaken a few weeks too late, and so it proved a very hard one. they thought to go down the mississippi in a mackinaw boat, but were frozen in before they reached lake pepin. from that point the entire journey to ohio was made by land in the rigors of winter. the leaving of dr. williamson entailed upon me the responsibility of taking care of the sabbath service. mr. g. h. pond was not then a minister of the gospel, but his superior knowledge of the dakota fitted him the best to communicate religious instruction. but it was well for me to have the responsibility, as it helped me in the use of the native tongue. i was often conscious of making mistakes, and doubtless made many that i knew not of. mr. pond and mr. renville were ever ready to help me out, and, moreover, we had with us that winter rev. daniel gavan, one of the swiss missionaries, who had settled on the mississippi river, at red wing and wabashaw's villages. mr. g. came up to avail himself of the better advantages in learning the language, and so for the winter he was a valuable helper. it pleased god to make this winter one of fruitfulness. mr. renville was active in persuading those under his influence to attend the religious meetings, the school-room was crowded on sabbaths, and the word, imperfectly as it was spoken, was used by the spirit upon those dark minds. there was evidently a quickening of the church. they were interested in prayer. what is prayer?--and how shall we pray? became questions of interest with them. one woman who had received at her baptism the name of catherine, and who still lives a believing life at the end of forty years, was then troubled to know how prayer could reach god. i told her in this we were all little children. god recognized our condition in this respect, and had told us that, as earthly fathers and mothers were willing, and desirous of giving good gifts to their children, he was more willing to give the holy spirit to them that ask him. besides, he made the ear, and shall he not hear? he made, in a large sense, all language, and shall he not be able to understand dakota words? the very word for "pray" in the dakota language was "to cry to"--_chakiya_. prayer was now, as through all ages it had been, the child's cry in the ear of the great father. so there appeared to be a working upward of many hearts. early in february mr. pond, mr. renville, and mr. huggins, mr. gavan and myself, after due examination and instruction, agreed to receive ten dakotas into the church--all women. i baptized them and their children--twenty-eight in all--on one sabbath morning. it was to us a day of cheer. to these dakota gentiles also god had indeed opened the door of faith. blessed be his name for ever and ever. "dec. , . "this is our little alfred's natal day. he of course has received no birthday sugar or earthen toys, and his only gift of such a kind has been a very small bow and arrow, from an indian man, who is a frequent visitor. the bow is about three-eighths of a yard long and quite neatly made, but alfred uses it as he would any other little stick. i do not feel desirous that he should prize a bow or a gun as do these sons of the prairie. my prayer is that he may early become a lamb of the good shepherd's fold, that while he lives he may be kept from the fierce wolf and hungry lion, and at length be taken home to the green pastures and still waters above." "feb. , . "we mentioned in our last encouraging prospects here. the forenoon schools, which are for misses and children, have some days been crowded during the few past weeks, and a sabbath-school recently opened has been so well attended as to encourage our hopes of blessed results. last lord's day we had a larger assembly than have ever before met for divine worship in this heathen land. more than eighty were present." as mr. gavan was a native frenchman and a scholar, we expected much from his presence with us, during the winter, in the way of obtaining translations. he and mr. renville could communicate fully and freely through that language, and we believed he would be able to explain such words as were not well understood by the other. and so we commenced the translation of the gospel of john from the french. but it soon became apparent that the perfection of knowledge, of which they both supposed themselves possessed, was a great bar to progress. and by the time we had reached the end of the seventh chapter, the relations of the two frenchmen were such as to entirely stop our work. we were quite disappointed. but this event induced us the sooner to gird ourselves for the work of translating the bible from the original tongues, and so was, in the end, a blessing. chapter iv. - .--"eagle help."--his power as war prophet.--makes no-flight dance.--we pray against it.--unsuccessful on the war-path.--their revenge.--jean nicollet and j. c. fremont.--opposition to schools.--progress in teaching.--method of counting.--"lake that speaks."--our trip to fort snelling.--incidents of the way.--the changes there.--our return journey.--birch-bark canoe.--mary's story.--"le grand canoe."--baby born on the way.--walking ten miles.--advantages of travel.--my visit to the missouri river.--"fort pierre."--results. "eagle help" was a good specimen of a war prophet and war leader among the dakotas. at the time of the commencement of the mission, he was a man of family and in middle age, but he was the first man to learn to read and write his language. and from the very first, no one had clearer apprehensions of the advantages of that attainment. he soon became one of the best helps in studying the dakota, and the best critical helper in translations. he wanted good pay for a service, but he was ever ready to do it, and always reliable. when my horse failed me, on the trip up from fort snelling, and i had walked fifty miles, eagle help was ready, for a consideration (my waterproof coat), to go on foot and bring up the baggage i had left. and in the early spring of , when mr. pond would remove his family--wife and child--to join his brother in the work near fort snelling, eagle help was the man to pilot his canoe down the minnesota. but, notwithstanding his readiness to learn and to impart, to receive help and give help--notwithstanding his knowledge of the "new way," of which his wife was a follower, and his near relations to us in our missionary work, he did not, at once, abandon his dakota customs, one of which was going on the war-path. as a war prophet, he claimed to be able to get into communication with the spirit world, and thus to be made a _seer_. after fasting and praying and dancing the circle dance, a _vision_ of the enemies he sought to kill would come to him. he was made to see, in this trance or dream, whichever it might be, the whole panorama, the river or lake, the prairie or wood, and the ojibwas in canoes or on the land, and the spirit in the vision said to him, "up, eagle help, and kill." this vision and prophecy had heretofore never failed, he said. and so, when he came back from escorting mr. gavan and mr. pond to the mississippi river, he determined to get up a war party. he made his "yoomne wachepe" (circle dance), in which the whole village participated--he dreamed his dream, he saw his vision, and was confident of a successful campaign. about a score of young men painted themselves for the war; they fasted and feasted and drilled by dancing the no-flight dance, and made their hearts firm by hearing the brave deeds of older warriors, who were now _hors de combat_ by age. in the meantime, the thought that our good friend eagle help should lead out a war party to kill and mangle ojibwa women and children greatly troubled us. we argued and entreated, but our words were not heeded. among other things, we said we would pray that the war party might not be successful. that was too much of a menace. added to this, they came and asked mr. huggins to grind corn for them on our little ox-power mill, which he refused to do. they were greatly enraged, and, just before they started out, they killed and ate two of the mission cows. after a rather long and difficult tramp they returned without having seen an ojibwa. their failure they attributed entirely to our prayers, and so, as they returned ashamed, they took off the edge of their disgrace by killing another of our unoffending animals. after this, it was some months before eagle help would again be our friend and helper. in the meantime, dr. williamson and his family returned from ohio, bringing with them miss fanny huggins, to be a teacher in the place of mrs. pond. miss huggins afterward became mrs. jonas pettijohn, and both she and her husband were for many years valuable helpers in the mission work. also this summer brought to lac-qui-parle such distinguished scientific gentlemen as m. jean nicollet and j. c. fremont. m. nicollet took an interest in our war difficulty, and of his own motion made arrangements in behalf of the indians to pay for the mission cattle destroyed. and so that glory and that shame were alike forgotten. in after years eagle help affirmed that his power of communicating with the spirit world as a war prophet was destroyed by his knowledge of letters and the religion of the bible. shall we accept that as true? and, if so, what shall we say of modern spiritism? is it in accord with living a true christian life? thus events succeeded each other rapidly. but mary and i and the baby boy, "good bird," lived still in the "upper chamber," and were not ashamed to invite the french savant, jean nicollet, to come and take tea with us. during these first years of missionary work at lac-qui-parle, the school was well attended. it was only once in a while that the voice of opposition was raised against the children. occasionally some one would come up from below and tell about the fight that was going on there _against_ the treaty appropriation for education. the missionaries down there were charged with wanting to get hold of the indians' money; and so the provision for education made by the treaty of effectually blocked all efforts at teaching among those lower sioux. what should have been a help became a great hindrance. indians and traders joined to oppose the use of that fund for the purpose for which it was intended, and finally the government yielded and turned over the accumulated money to be distributed among themselves. the wahpatons of lac-qui-parle had no interest in that treaty; and had yet made no treaty with the government and had not a red cent of money anywhere that missionaries could, by any hook or crook, lay hold of. nevertheless it was easy to get up a fear and belief; for was it possible that white men and women would come here and teach year after year, and not expect, in some way and at some time, to get money out of them? if they ever made a treaty, and sold land to the government, would not the missionaries bring in large bills against them? it was easy to work up this matter in their own minds, and make it all seem true, and the result was the soldiers were ordered to stop the children from coming to school. there were some such moods as this, and our school had a vacation. but the absurdity appeared pretty soon, and the children were easily induced to come back. mr. and mrs. pond were now gone. for the next winter, mary and miss fanny huggins took care of the girls and younger boys, and mr. huggins, with such assistance as i could give, took care of the boys and young men. the women also undertook, under the instruction of mrs. huggins and miss fanny, to spin and knit and weave. mr. renville had already among his flock some sheep. the wool was here and the flax was soon grown. spinning-wheels and knitting-needles were brought on, and mr. huggins manufactured a loom. they knit socks and stockings, and wove skirts and blankets, while the little girls learned to sew patchwork and make quilts. all this was of advantage as education. my own special effort in the class-room during the first years was in teaching a knowledge of figures. the language of counting in dakota was limited. the "wancha, nonpa, yamne"--one, two, three, up to ten,--every child learned, as he bent down his fingers and thumbs until all were gathered into two bunches, and then let them loose as geese flying away. eleven was _ten more one_, and so on. twenty was _ten twos_ or _twice ten_, and thirty _ten threes_. with each ten the fingers were all bent down, and one was kept down to remember the ten. thus, when ten tens were reached, the whole of the two hands was bent down, each finger meaning ten. this was the perfected "bending down." it was "opawinge"--one hundred. then, when the hands were both bent down for hundreds, the climax was supposed to be reached, which could only be expressed by "again also bending down." when something larger than this was reached, it was a _great count_--something which they nor we can comprehend--a million. on the other side of _one_ the dakota language is still more defective. only one word of any definiteness exists--_hankay_, half. we can say hankay-hankay--_the half of a half_. but it does not seem to have been much used. beyond this there was nothing. a _piece_ is a word of uncertain quantity, and is not quite suited to introduce among the certainties of mathematics. thus, the poverty of the language has been a great obstacle in teaching arithmetic. and that poorness of language shows their poverty of thought in the same line. the dakotas are not, as a general thing, at all clever in arithmetic. * * * * * before the snows had disappeared or the ducks come back to this northern land, in the spring of , a baby girl had been added to the little family in the upper chamber. by the first of june, mary was feeling well, and exceedingly anxious to make a trip across the prairie. she had been cooped up here now nearly three years. there was nowhere to go. lac-qui-parle is the "lake that speaks," but who could be found around it? and no one had any knowledge of any great indian talk held there that might have justified the name. but the romance was all taken out of the french name by the criticism of eagle help, that the dakota name, "mdaeyaydan," did not mean "lake that talks," but "lake that connects." and so lac-qui-parle had no historic interest. it was not a good place to go on a picnic. she had been to the indian village frequently, but that was not a place to visit for pleasure. and on the broad prairie there was no objective point. where could she go for a pleasure trip, but to fort snelling? and so we made arrangements for the journey. the little boy "good bird" was left behind, and the baby isabella had to go along, of course. we were with mr. renville's annual caravan going to the fur-trader's mecca. the prairie journey was pleasant and enjoyable, though somewhat fatiguing. we had our own team and could easily keep in company with the long line of wooden carts, carrying buffalo robes and other furs. it was, indeed, rather romantic. but when we reached the traverse des sioux, we were at our wit's end how to proceed further. that was the terminus of the wagon-road. it was then regarded as absolutely impossible to take any wheeled vehicle through by land to fort snelling. several years after this we began to do it, but it was very difficult. then it was not to be tried. mr. sibley's fur boat, it was expected, would have been at the traverse, but it was not. and a large canoe which was kept there had gotten loose and floated away. only a little crazy canoe, carrying two persons, was found to cross the stream with. nothing remained but to abandon the journey or to try it on horseback. and for that not a saddle of any kind could be obtained. but mary was a plucky little woman. she did not mean to use the word "fail" if she could help it. and so we tied our buffalo robe and blanket on one of the horses, and she mounted upon it, with a rope for a stirrup. many a young woman would have been at home there, but mary had not grown up on horseback. and so at the end of a dozen miles, when we came to the river where le sueur now is, she was very glad to learn that the large canoe had been found. in that she and baby isabella took passage with mr. renville's girls and an indian woman or two to steer and paddle. the rest of the company went on by land, managing to meet the boat at night and camp together. this we did for the next four nights. it was a hard journey for mary. the current was not swift. the canoe was heavy and required hard paddling to make it move onward. the dakota young women did not care to work, and their helm's-woman was not in a condition to do it. on the fourth day out they ran ashore somewhat hurriedly and put up their tent, where the woman pilot gave birth to a baby girl. they named it "by-the-way." one day they came in very hungry to an indian village. the dakota young women were called to a tent to eat sugar. then mary thought they might have called "the white woman" also, but they did not. she did not consider that they were relatives. by and by the mouth of the minnesota was reached, through hardship and endurance. but then it was to be "a pleasure trip," and this was the way in which the pleasure came. since we had last seen him, s. w. pond had married miss cordelia eggleston, a sister of mrs. j. d. stevens. the station at lake harriet had been abandoned, the indians having left lake calhoun first. mr. stevens had gone down to wabashaw's village, and the pond brothers, with their families, were occupying what was called the "stone house," within a mile of the fort. mary found an old school friend in the garrison, and so the two weeks spent in this neighborhood were pleasant and profitable. we now addressed ourselves to the return journey. the fur boat had gone up and come down again. we were advised to try a birch-bark canoe, and hire a couple of french voyagers to row it. in the first part of the river we went along nicely. but after a while we began to meet with accidents. the strong arms of the paddlers would ever and anon push the canoe square on a snag. the next thing to be done was to haul ashore and mend the boat. by and by our mending material was all used up. it was saturday morning, and we could reach traverse that day if we met with no mishap. but we did meet with a mishap. suddenly we struck a snag which tore such a hole in our bark craft that it was with difficulty we got ashore. by land, it was eight or ten miles to the traverse. the frenchmen were sent on for a cart to bring up the baggage. but rather than wait for them, mary and i elected to walk and carry baby bella. to an indian woman that would have been a mere trifle--not worth speaking of. but to me it meant work. i had no strap to tie her on my back, and the little darling seemed to get heavier every mile we went. but, then, mary had undertaken the trip for pleasure, and so we must not fail to find in it all the pleasure we could. and we did it. altogether, that trip to fort snelling was a thing to be remembered and not regretted. mary's story. "fort snelling, june , . "we left lac-qui-parle june , and reached le bland's the saturday following, having enjoyed as pleasant a journey across the prairie as we could expect or hope. we had expected to find at that place a barge, but we could not even procure an indian canoe. with no other alternative, we mounted our horses on monday, with no other saddles than our baggage. mine was a buffalo robe and blanket fastened with a trunk strap. my spirits sank within me as i gave our little isabella to an indian woman to carry perched up in a blanket behind, and clung to my horse's mane as we ascended and descended the steep hills, and thought a journey of seventy miles by land was before us. "i rode thus nearly ten miles, and then walked a short distance to rest myself, to the place where our company took lunch. there, to our great joy, a frenchman exclaimed, 'le grand canoe, le grand canoe!' and we found that the indian who had been commissioned to search had found and brought it down the river thus far. i gladly exchanged my seat on the horse for one in the canoe, with two indian women and mr. renville's daughters. our progress was quite comfortable, though slow, as some of our party were invited to indian lodges to feast occasionally, while the rest of us were sunning by the river's bank. "on the fourth day we had an addition to our party. the woman at the helm said she was sick--and we went on shore perhaps three-quarters of an hour on account of the rain, and when it ceased, she was ready with her infant to step into the canoe and continue rowing, although she did not resume her seat in the stern until the next morning. this is a specimen of indian life. "we have found dr. and mrs. turner in the garrison here; she was formerly mary stuart of mackinaw." "traverse des sioux, july . "the canoe (birch-bark) which we praised so highly failed us about eight miles below this place, in consequence of not having a supply of gum to mend a large rent made by a snag early this morning. not thinking it was quite so far, i chose to try walking, husband carrying isabella, the frenchmen having hastened on to find our horses to bring up the baggage. we reached the river and found there was no boat here with which to cross. mr. riggs waded with isabella, the water being about two and a half feet deep, and an indian woman came to carry me over, when our horses were brought up. husband mounted without any saddle, and i, quivering like an aspen, seated myself behind, clinging so tightly that i feared i should pull us both off. i do not think it was fear, at least not entirely, for i am still exceedingly fatigued and dizzy, but i have reason to be grateful that i did not fall into the river from faintness, as husband thought i was in danger of doing. isabella's face is nearly blistered, and mine almost as brown as an indian's." "lac-qui-parle mission, july , . "we are once more in the quiet enjoyment of home, and are somewhat rested from the fatigue of our journey. the repetition of that parental injunction, 'mary, do be careful of your health,' recalled your watchful care most forcibly. how often have i heard these words, and perhaps too often have regarded them less strictly than an anxious mother deemed necessary for my highest welfare. and even now, were it not that the experience of a few years may correct my _notions_ about health, i should be so unfashionable as to affirm that necessary exposures, such as sleeping on the prairie in a tent drenched with rain, and walking some two or three miles in the dewy grass, where the water would gush forth from our shoes at every step, and then continuing our walk until they were more than comfortably dry, as we did on the morning our canoe failed us, are not as injurious to the health as the unnecessary exposures of fashionable life." the sioux on the mississippi and minnesota rivers were known to be but a small fraction of the dakota people. we at lac-qui-parle had frequent intercourse with the sissetons of lake traverse. sometimes, too, we had visits from the yanktonais, who followed the buffalo on the great prairies this side of the missouri river. but more than half of the sioux nation were said to be teetons, who lived beyond the big muddy. so it seemed very desirable that we extend our acquaintance among them. about the first of september, mr. huggins and i, having prepared ourselves with a small outfit, started for the missouri. we had one pony for the saddle, and one horse and cart to carry the baggage. at first we joined a party of wild sioux from the two woods, whose leader was "thunder face." he was a great scamp, but had promised to furnish us with guides to the missouri, after we had reached the coteau. the party were going out to hunt buffalo, and moved by short days' marches. in a week we had only made fifty miles. after some vexatious delays and some coaxing and buying, we succeeded in getting started ahead with two young men, the principal one being "sacred cow." the first day brought us into the region of buffalo, one of which sacred cow killed. this came near spoiling our journey. the young men now wanted to turn about and join the hunt. an additional bargain had to be made. in about two weeks from lac-qui-parle we reached the missouri, striking it near fort pierre. to this trading fort we crossed, and there spent a good part of a week. forty or fifty teepees of teetons were encamped there. they treated us kindly (inviting us to a dog feast on one occasion), as did also the white people and half-breeds of the post. we gathered a good deal of information in regard to the western bands of the sioux nation; we communicated to them something of the object of our missionary work, and of the good news of salvation, and then returned home pretty nearly by the way we went. we had been gone a month. the result of our visit was the conclusion that we could not do much, or attempt much, for the civilization and christianization of those roving bands of dakotas. chapter v. - .--dakota braves.--simon anawangmane.--mary's letter.--simon's fall.--maple sugar.--adobe church.--catharine's letter.--another letter of mary's.--left hand's case.--the fifth winter.--mary to her brother.--the children's morning ride.--visit to hawley and ohio.--dakota printing.--new recruits.--return.--little rapids.--traverse des sioux.--stealing bread.--forming a new station.--begging.--opposition.--thomas l. longley.--meeting ojibwas.--two sioux killed.--mary's hard walk. among the encouraging events of and was the conversion of simon anawangmane. he was the first full-blood dakota man to come out on the side of the new religion. mr. renville and his sons had joined the church, but the rest were women. it came to be a taunt that the men used when we talked with them and asked them to receive the gospel, "your church is made up of women"; and, "if you had gotten us in first, it would have amounted to something, but now there are only women. who would follow after women?" thus the proud dakota braves turned away. but god's truth has sharp arrows in it, and the holy spirit knows how to use them in piercing even dakota hearts. _anawangmane_ (walks galloping on) was at this time not far from thirty years old. he was not a bright scholar--rather dull and slow in learning to read. but he had a very strong will-power and did not know what fear was. he had been a very dare-devil on the war-path. the dakotas had a curious custom of being _under law_ and _above law_. it was always competent for a dakota soldier to punish another man for a misdemeanor, if the other man did not rank above him in savage prowess. as for example: if a dakota man had braved an ojibwa with a loaded gun pointed at him, and had gone up and killed him, he ranked above all men who had not done a like brave deed. and if no one in the community had done such an act of bravery, then this man could not be punished for any thing, according to dakota custom. under date of feb. , , mary writes:--"last sabbath was isabella's birthday. she has been a healthy child, for which we have cause of gratitude. but this was not our only, or principal, cause of joy on last sabbath. five adults received the baptismal rite preparatory to the celebration of the lord's supper on next sabbath. one of them was a man, the first in the nation--a full-blooded sioux, that has desired to renounce all for christ. may god enable him to adorn his profession. his future life will doubtless exert a powerful influence either for or against christ's cause here. three years since he was examined by the church session, but then he acknowledged that the th and th commandments were too broad in their restrictions for him. now he professes a desire and determination to keep them also. his wife, whom he is willing to marry, with her child, and three children by two other wives he has had, stood with him, and at the same time received the seal of the new covenant. as they all wished english names, we gave 'hetta' to a white, gray-eyed orphan girl who was baptized, on account of her grandmother." this young man, anawangmane, had reached that enviable position of being above dakota law. he had not only attained to the "first three," but he was the chief. and so when he came out on the side of the lord and christianity, there was a propriety in calling him simon when he was baptized. he was ordinarily a quiet man--a man of deeds and not of words. but once in a while he would get roused up, and his eyes would flash, and his words and gestures were powerful. simon immediately put on white man's clothes, and made and planted a field of corn and potatoes adjoining the mission field. no dakota brave dared to cut up his tent or kill his dog or break his gun; but this did not prevent the boys, and women too, from pointing the finger at him, and saying, "there goes the man who has made himself a woman." simon seemed to care for it no more than the bull-dog does for the barking of a puppy. he apparently brushed it all aside as if it was only a straw. so far as any sign from him, one looking on would be tempted to think that he regarded it as glory. but it did not beget pride. he did indeed become stronger thereby. and yet, as time rolled by, it was seen, by the unfolding of the divine plan, that simon could not be built up into the best and noblest character without suffering. naturally, he was the man who would grow into self-sufficiency. there were weak points in his character which he perhaps knew not of. it was several years after this when simon visited us at the traverse, and made our hearts glad by his presence and help. but alas! he came there to stumble and fall! "you are a brave man--no man so brave as you are," said the indians at the traverse to him. and some of them were distantly related to him. while they praised and flattered him, they asked him to drink whiskey with them. surely he was man enough for that. how many times he refused simon never told. but at last he yielded, and then the very energy of his character carried him to great excess in drinking "spirit water." "lac-qui-parle, march , . "until this, the seasons for sugar-making have been very unfavorable since we have resided here. but this spring the indian women have been unusually successful, and several of them have brought us a little maple sugar, which, after melting and straining, was excellent, and forcibly reminded us of _home sugar_. however, it does not always need purifying, as some are much more cleanly than others, here as well as in civilized lands. sugar is a luxury for which these poor women are willing to toil hard, and often with but small recompense. their camps are frequently two or three miles from their lodges. if they move to the latter, they must also pack corn for their families; and if not, with kettle in hand they go to their camps, toil all day, and often at night return with their syrup or sugar and a back load of wood for their husbands' use the next day. thus sugar is to them a hard-earned luxury. but they have also others, which they sometimes offer us, such as musk-rats, beavers'-tails, and tortoises. i have never tried musk-rats, but husband says they are as good as _polecats_--another delicacy!" but i must leave these broken threads, and take up the thread of my story. at lac-qui-parle the schoolroom in dr. williamson's log house became too strait for our religious gatherings. we determined to build a church. the dakota women volunteered to come and dig out, in the side of the hill, the place where it should stand. building materials were not abundant nor easily obtained, and so we decided to build an _adobe_. we made our bricks and dried them in the sun, and laid them up into the walls. we sawed our boards with the whipsaw, and made our shingles out of the ash-trees. we built our house without much outlay of money. the heavy minnesota rains washed its sides, and we plastered one and clapboarded another. it was a comfortable house, and one in which much preaching and teaching were done; moreover, when, in after years, our better framed house was burned to the ground, this adobe church still stood for us to take refuge in. there we were living when secretary s. b. treat visited us in , and in one corner of that we fenced off with bed-quilts a little place for him to sleep. in this adobe house we first made trial of an instrument in song worship. miss lucy spooner, afterward mrs. drake, took in her melodeon. but the dakota voices fell so much below the instrument that she gave it up in despair. by all these things we remember the old adobe church at lac-qui-parle. and not less by the first consecration of it. that was a feast made by dr. williamson for the _men_. the floor was not yet laid, but a hundred dakota men gathered into it and sat on the sleepers, and ate their potatoes and bread and soup gladly, and then we talked to them about christ. of this church when commenced, catherine totidutawin wrote: "now are we to have a church, and on that account we rejoice greatly. in this house we shall pray to the great spirit. we have dug ground two days already. we have worked having the great spirit in our thoughts. we have worked praying. when we have this house we shall be glad. in it, if we pray, he will have mercy upon us, and if he hears what we say, he will make us glad. as yet we do what he hates. in this house we will confess these things to him--our thoughts, our words, our actions--these we will tell to him. his son will dwell in this house and pardon all that is bad. god has mercy on us and is giving us a holy house. in this we will pray for the nations." "dec. , . "the last two sabbaths we have assembled in our new chapel. only one half is completed, though husband and mr. pettijohn have been very diligent and successful. you can scarcely imagine what a task building is in a land where there is such a scarcity of materials and men. during the summer great exertions were made to prepare lumber, and two men were employed about two months in sawing it with a whip-saw. the woods were searched and researched for two or three miles for suitable timber, and the result was about feet--which is not enough--at an expense of $ . i might mention other hindrances, but, notwithstanding them all, the lord has evidently prospered the work, and our expectations have been fully realized, if our wishes have not." besides simon anawangmane, two or three other young men were won over to the religion of christ before . one of these was paul mazakootaymane. paul was a man of different stamp from simon. he was a native orator. but be was innately lazy. still, he has always been loyal to the white people, and has done much good work on their behalf. there was at this time an elderly man who sought admission to the church at lac-qui-parle, _left hand_ by name. this man was mr. renville's brother-in-law. we could not say he was not a true believer--he seemed to be one. but he had two wives, and they both had been received into church fellowship. they had been admitted on the ground, partly, that it could not be decided which, if either, was the lawful wife, and partly on the ground that dakota women heretofore could not be held responsible for polygamy. and now left hand claimed for himself that he had lived with these women for a quarter of a century, and had a family by each; that he had entered into this relation in the days of ignorance, and that the bible recognized the rightfulness of such relations under certain circumstances, since david and jacob had more than one wife. mr. renville, who was a ruling elder in the church, took this position, and the members of the mission were not a unit against it. so the question was referred to the ripley presbytery. the result was that our native church was saved from sanctioning polygamy. we had the two wives of left hand, and two women also in another case. but the husband's dying has long since left them widows, and some of them also have gone to the eternal world. the loose condition of the marriage relation is still that, in the social state of the dakotas, which gives us the most trouble. * * * * * the fifth winter in our "little chamber" was one full of work. in the early part of it, mary was still in the school. in the latter part our third child was born. she was named "martha taylor," for the grandmother in massachusetts. during the years previous, i had undertaken to translate a good portion of the new testament, the acts, and paul's epistles, and the revelation. this winter the corrected copy had to be made. of necessity i learned to do my best work surrounded by children. my study and workshop was our sitting-room, and dining-room, and kitchen, and nursery, and ladies' parlor. it was often half filled with indians. besides my own translations, i copied for the press the gospel of john and some of the psalms. a part of the latter were my own translation, and a part were secured, as the gospel was, through mr. renville. there was also a hymn-book to edit, and some school-books to be prepared. so the winter was filled with work and service. the remembrance of it is only pleasant. of course, the ordinary family trials were experienced. a bucket of water was spilled and was leaking down on mrs. williamson's bed below, or one of the children fell down the stairs, or our little bella crawled out of the window and sat on the little shelf where the milk was set to cool in the morning, giving us a good scare, etc. mary to her brother alfred. "lac-qui-parle, april , . "your letter presented to my 'mind's eye' our mountain home. i entered the lower gate, passed up the lane between the elms, maples, and cherries, and saw once more our mountain home embowered by the fir-trees and shrubbery i loved so well. how many times have i watched the first buddings of those rose-bushes and lilacs, and with what care and delight have i nursed those snowballs, half dreaming they were sister spirits, telling by their delicate purity of that eden where flowers never fade and leaves never wither. perhaps i was too passionately fond of flowers; if so, that fondness is sufficiently blunted, if not subdued. not a solitary shrub, tree, or flower rears its head near our dwelling, excepting those of nature's planting at no great distance on the opposite side of the st. peter's, and a copse of plums in a dell on the left, and of scrub-oak on the right. back of us is the river hill which shelters us from the furious wind of the high prairie beyond. until last season we have had no enclosure, and now we have but a poor defence against the depredations of beasts, and still more lawless and savage men. on reading descriptions of the situation of our missionary brethren and sisters in beirut, jerusalem, and elsewhere, the thought has arisen, 'that is such a place as i should like to call home.' but the remembrance of earthquakes, war, and the plague, by which those countries are so often scourged, hushed each murmuring thought. when i also recollected the mysterious providences which have written the persian missionaries _childless_, how could i long or wish to possess more earthly comforts, while my husband and our two 'olive plants' are spared to sit around our table. little bella already creeps to her father, and, if granted a seat on his knee, holds her little hands, although, as alfred says, 'she does not wait till papa says amen.' while we are surrounded by so many blessings, i would not, like god's ancient people, provoke him by murmuring, as i fear i have done, and if he should deprive us of any of the comforts we now possess, may he give us grace to feel as did habakkuk, 'although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vine, etc., yet i will rejoice in the lord and joy in the god of my salvation.' "i suppose you have hardly yet found how much of romance is mingled with your ideas of a married state. you will find real life much the same that you have ever found, and with additional joys, additional cares and sorrows. i have realized as much happiness as i anticipated, though many of my bright visions have not been realized, and others have been much changed in outline and finishing. for instance, our still winter evenings are seldom enlivened by reading, while i am engaged lulling our little ones or plying my needle. although i should greatly enjoy such a treat _occasionally_, i can not, in our situation, expect it, while it is often almost the only time husband can secure for close and uninterrupted study. you know the time of a missionary is _not his own_." "thursday, may , . "perhaps the scene that would amuse you most would be 'the babies' morning ride.' the little wagon in which isabella and my namesake, mary ann huggins, are drawn by the older children, even alfred ambitious to assist, would be in complete contrast with 'the royal princess' cradle'; yet i doubt not it affords them as much pleasure as a more elegant one would. alfred's was made by his father, and hetta, an indian girl living at mr. huggins', constructed a canopy, which gives it a tasteful, though somewhat rude appearance. mrs. williamson's son john draws his sister in a wagon of his own, so that the whole troop of ten little ones, with their carriages, form a miniature pleasure party." "lac-qui-parle, feb. , . "we are grateful for the expression of kindness for us and for our children, and we hope that our duty to those whom god has committed to our care will be made plain. before your letter reached us, containing the remark of 'mother clark' about taking the little girl, we had another little daughter added to our family, and had concluded to leave isabella with miss fanny huggins, as it is probable we shall return to this region, instead of ascending the missouri. our little martha we shall of course not leave behind if our lives are spared and we are permitted to go east; and alfred we intend taking with us as far as ohio." of the next year--from the spring of --little need be said in this connection. the preparations were all made. mary and i took with us the little boy, now in his fifth year, and the baby, while the little girl between was left in the care of miss fanny huggins. it was a year of enjoyment. mary visited the old home on hawley hills. the old grandfather was still there, and the younger members of the family had grown up. here, during the summer, the little boy born in dakota land gathered strawberries in the meadows of massachusetts. our school-books and hymn-book were printed in boston, and in the autumn we came to ohio. during the winter months the bible-printing was done in cincinnati. when we were ready to start back, in the spring of , we had secured as fellow-laborers, at the new station which we were instructed to form, robert hopkins and his young wife agnes, and miss julia kephart, all from ripley, ohio. the intercourse with so many sympathizing christian hearts, which had been much interested in the dakota mission from its commencement, was refreshing. we found, too, that we had both been forgetting our mother tongue somewhat, in the efforts made to learn dakota. this must be guarded against in the future. in our desire to be dakotas we must not cease to be english. the bottoms of the lower minnesota were putting on their richest robes of green, and the great wild-rose gardens were coming into full perfection of beauty, when, in the month of june, our barge, laden with mission supplies, was making its way up to traverse des sioux. at what was known as "the little rapids" was a village of wahpaton dakotas, the old home of the people at lac-qui-parle. there were certain reasons why we thought that might be the point for the new station. we made a halt there of half a day, and called the chief men. but they were found to be too much under the influence of the treaty indians below to give us any encouragement. in fact, they did not want missionaries. we passed by, and landed our boats at the traverse. the day before reaching this point, mrs. hopkins and mary had made arrangements to have some light bread,--they were tired eating the heavy cakes of the voyage. they succeeded to their satisfaction, and placed the warm bread away, in a safe place, as they supposed, within the tent, ready for the morning. but when the breakfast was ready, the bread was not there. during the night an indian hand had taken it. the dakotas were accustomed to do such things. while at lac-qui-parle we were constantly annoyed by thefts. an axe or a hoe could not be left out-of-doors, but it would be taken. and in our houses we were continually missing little things. a towel hanging on the wall would be tucked under the blanket of a woman, or a girl would sidle up to a stand and take a pair of scissors. any thing that could be easily concealed was sure to be missing, if we gave them an opportunity. and these people at the traverse (sissetons they were) we found quite equal to those at lac-qui-parle. stealing, even among themselves, was not considered very dishonorable. the men said they did not steal, but the women were all _wamanonsa_. we had decided to make this our new station. we should consult the indians, but our staying would not depend upon their giving us an invitation to stay. and so the first thing to be done was to start off the train to lac-qui-parle. in the early part of june, , after mary and i left, there had come frosts which cut off the indian corn. the prospect was that the village would be abandoned pretty much during the year. this led dr. williamson to come down to fort snelling, as mr. s. w. pond and wife had already gone up to take our place. this spring of , mr. pond had left, and dr. williamson could not return until the autumn, as he had engaged temporarily to fill the place of surgeon in the garrison. in these circumstances it was deemed advisable for mr. and mrs. hopkins to go on to lac-qui-parle for a year. mary took her baby, martha taylor, now fifteen months old, and went up with them to bring down isabella. thomas longley, a young man of years, and rejoicing in a young man's strength, had joined us at fort snelling. he was a part of our boat's company up the minnesota; and now he and i and the little boy, zitkadan washtay, remained to make a beginning. immediately i called the indians and had a talk with them, at mr. le bland's trading-post. i told them we had come to live with them, and to teach them. some said _yes_ and some said _no_. but they all asked, what have you to give us? it was at a time of year when they were badly off for food, and so i gave them two barrels of flour. before the council was over, some of the principal men became so stupid from the influence of whiskey which they had been drinking, that they did not know what they were saying. old sleepy eyes and tankamane were the chief men present. they were favorable to our stopping, and remained friends of the mission as long as it was continued there. but some of the younger men were opposed. one especially, who had a keg of whiskey that he was taking to the upper minnesota, was reported as saying that when he had disposed of his whiskey, he would come back and stop tamakoche's building. but he never came back--only a few days after this, he was killed in a drunken frolic. we expected to meet with opposition, and so were not disappointed. thomas and i pitched our tents under some scrub-oaks, on a little elevation, in the lower river bottom, a half a mile away from the trader's. immediately we commenced to cut and haul logs for our cabin. in the meantime, the party going to lac-qui-parle were nearing their destination. with them there were three young men who had accompanied us to ohio, and spent the year. their baptized names were _simon_, _henok_, and _lorenzo_. each was about twenty years old. while on their way down, we had cut off their hair and dressed them up as white men. they had all learned much in their absence; while two of them had added their names to the rolls of christian churches in ohio. thus, they were returning. the party spent the sabbath a day's travel from lac-qui-parle. on monday, before noon, these young men had seen, on some far-off prairie elevation, what seemed to be indians lying down. but their suspicions of a war-party were not very pronounced. five miles from the mission, the road crosses the _mayakawan_--otherwise called the chippewa river. it was a hot afternoon when the mission party approached it. they were thirsty, and the young men had started on to drink. simon was ahead, and on horseback. suddenly, as he neared the stream, there emerged from the wood a war-party of ojibwas, carrying two fresh scalps. simon rode up and shook hands with them. he could do this safely, as he was dressed like a white man. they showed him the scalps, all gory with blood; but he wot not that one of them was his own brother's. this brother and his wife and a young man were coming to meet their friends. as the two men came to the crossing, they were shot down by the ojibwas, who lay concealed in the bushes. the woman, who was a little distance behind, heard the guns and fled, carrying the news back to the village. and so it happened that by the time the mission teams had fairly crossed the river, they were met by almost the whole village of maddened dakotas. they were in pursuit of the ojibwas. but had not the missionaries taken these boys to ohio? and had not these two young men been killed as they were coming to meet the boys? were not the missionaries the cause of it all? so questioned and believed many of the frantic men. and one man raised his gun and shot one of the horses in the double team, which carried mrs. hopkins and mary. this made it necessary for them to walk the remainder of the way in the broiling sun of summer. mary found her little girl too heavy a load, and after a while was kindly relieved of her burden by a dakota woman, whom she had taught to wash. the excitement and trouble were a terrible strain on her nervous system, and made the gray hairs come prematurely here and there among the black. chapter vi. - .--great sorrow.--thomas drowned.--mary's letter.--the indians' thoughts.--old gray-leaf.--oxen killed.--hard field.--sleepy eyes' horse.--indian in prison.--the lord keeps us.--simon's shame.--mary's letter.--robert hopkins and agnes.--le bland.--white man ghost.--bennett.--sleepy eyes' camp.--drunken indians.--making sugar.--military company.--dakota prisoners.--stealing melons.--preaching and school.--a canoe voyage.--red wing. suddenly, at the very commencement of our new station, we were called to meet a great sorrow. mary had come back from lac-qui-parle with the two little girls, and our family were all together once more. mr. huggins and his sister, miss fanny huggins, and mr. isaac pettijohn had come down along. mr. pettijohn helped us much to forward the log cabin. saturday came, the th of july--and the roof was nearly finished. we should move into its shelter very soon. no one was rejoicing in the prospect more than the young brother, thomas lawrence longley. he sang as he worked that morning. mr. huggins had the toothache, and, about o'clock, said he would go and bathe, as that sometimes helped his teeth. brother t. proposed that we should go also, to which i at first objected, and said we would go after dinner. he thought we should have something else to do then; and, remembering that once or twice i had prevented his bathing, by not going when he wished, i consented. we had been in the water but a moment, when, turning around, i saw t. throw up his hands and clap them over his head. my first thought was that he was drowning. the current was strong and setting out from the shore. i swam to him--he caught me by the hand, but did not appear to help himself in the least--probably had the cramp. i tried to get toward shore with him, but could not. he pulled me under once or twice, and i began to think i should be drowned with him. but when we came up again, he released his grasp, and, as i was coming into shallow water, with some difficulty, i reached the shore. but the dear boy thomas appeared not again. the cruel waters rolled over him. in the meantime, mr. huggins had jumped into a canoe, and was coming to our relief. but it was too late--_too late_! mary's first letter after the th of july, :--"_traverse des sioux_, friday noon: what shall i add, my dear parents, to the sad tidings my husband has written? will it console you in any measure to know that one of our first and most frequent petitions at the throne of grace has been that god would prepare your hearts for the news, which, we feared, would be heart-breaking, unless 'the comforter' comforted you and the almighty strengthened you? we hope--indeed, some small measure of faith is given us to believe--that you will be comforted and sustained, under this chastening from the lord. and oh, like subdued, humbled, and penitent children, may we all kiss the rod, and earnestly pray that this sore chastisement may be for our spiritual good! "i feel that this affliction, such as i have never before known, is intended to prepare us who are left for _life and death_. perhaps some of us may soon follow him whom we all loved. when i stand by his grave, overshadowed by three small oaks, with room for another person by his side, i think that place may be for me. "the last sabbath he was with us was just after my return from lac-qui-parle. i reached here on saturday, and having passed through distressing scenes on our way to lac-qui-parle, occasioned by an attack of the chippewas on some sioux who were coming to meet us, i felt uncommon forebodings lest something had befallen the dear ones i had left here. but i endeavored to cast my care upon the lord, remembering that while we were homeless and houseless we were more like our saviour. and that if _he_ was despised and rejected of men, _we_ surely ought not to repine if we were treated as our master. with such feelings as these, as we came in sight of husband's tent, i pointed it out to isabella, when she asked, 'where's papa's house?' and soon i saw mr. riggs and brother thomas and little alfred coming to meet us. "not quite one week after that joyful hour, mr. riggs came home from the st. peter's, groaning, 'oh, mary, thomas is drowned--thomas is drowned!' i did not, i could not receive the full import. i still thought his body would be recovered and life restored; for your sakes, i cried for mercy, but it came not in the way i then desired. still, i tried to flatter myself, even after search for the body had been given up for the day, that it had floated down upon a sand-bar, and he would yet live and return in the dusk of the evening. but when i lay down for the night, and the impossibility of my illusive hopes being realized burst upon me, oh-- "the hand of the lord had touched us, and we were ready to sink; but the same kind hand sustained us. may the same almighty father strengthen you. one thought comforted me not a little. 'if brother thomas had gone home to our father's house in massachusetts, i should not have grieved much; and now he had gone to his father's and our father's home in heaven, why should i mourn so bitterly? i felt that god had a right to call him when he pleased, and i saw his mercy, in sparing my husband to me a little longer, when he was but a step from the eternal world. still, i felt that i had lost a brother, and _such a brother_! "before i went to lac-qui-parle, i had confided alfred to his special care. i knew that the rejection of our offer of stopping at the little rapids, by the indians there, had been exceedingly painful and discouraging to mr. riggs, and the rumor that the indians here would do likewise was no less so; and i should have felt very unpleasantly in going for isabella at that time, but it seemed necessary, and i felt that brother thomas would be, what he was, 'a friend in need.' on my return, on recounting the scenes i had passed through, the killing by the chippewas of the eldest brother of one of our young men, as he was coming to meet him--the shooting of one of our horses by a sioux man, who pretended to be offended because we did not pursue the chippewas, when we were more than three miles from the mission, and that i carried martha there in my arms, one of the warmest afternoons we had--thomas said, 'i see you have grown poor, but you will improve from this time.' "on saturday morning, as we were busily engaged near each other, he sang, 'our cabin is small and coarse our fare, but love has spread our banquet here!' soon afterward he went to bathe, and of course our roof and floor remained unfinished, but that evening we terminated in sadness what had been to us a happy feast of tabernacles, by moving into our humble dwelling. for a little while on sabbath, his remains found a resting-place within the house his hands had reared. i kissed his cheek as he lay upon a plank resting on that large red chest and box which were sent from home, but, owing to the haste and excitement, i did not think to take a lock of hair. it curled as beautifully as ever, although dripping with water, and the countenance was natural, i thought, but it has rather dimmed my recollections of him as he was when living. i felt so thankful that his body had been found before any great change had taken place, that gratitude to god supplanted my grief while we buried him. mr. huggins and fanny sang an indian hymn made from the th chapter of first corinthians, and then, 'unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb.' we came _home_ just after sunset. it is but a little distance from our dwelling, and in the same 'garden of roses,' as thomas called it, where he now sleeps." * * * * * only a few additional circumstances need to be noted. the sad story was carried speedily to the indian tents, and those who were in the neighborhood came to look on and give what sympathy and help they could. that was not much. the deep hole was too deep to be reached by any means at our command. the waters rolled on, and to us, as we gazed on them, knowing that the dear brother, thomas, was underneath them, they began more and more to assume a frightful appearance. for months and months after, they had that frightful look. i shuddered when i looked. the indians said their water god, _oonktehe_, was displeased with us for coming to build there. _he_ had seized the young man. it did seem sometimes as though god was against us. the saturday's sun went down without giving success to our efforts, and on sabbath morning the indians renewed the search somewhat, but with no better result. toward evening the body was found to have risen and drifted to a sand-bar below. we took it up tenderly, washed and wrapped it in a clean linen sheet, and placed it in the new cabin, on which his hands had wrought. a grave was dug hastily under the scrub-oaks, where, with only some loose boards about it, we laid our brother to rest until the resurrection. that was our allonbachuth. we were dumb, because god did it. that was the first great shadow that came over our home. it was one of ourselves that had gone. the sorrow was too great to find expression in tears or lamentations. the dakotas observed this. one day old _black eagle_ came in and chided us for it. "the ducks and the geese and the deer," he said, "when one is killed, make an outcry about it, and the sorrow passes by. the dakotas, too, like these wild animals, make a great wailing over a dead friend--they wail out their sorrow, and it becomes lighter; but you keep your sorrow--you brood over it, and it becomes heavier." there was truth in what the old man said. but we did not fail to cast our burden upon the lord, and to obtain strength from a source which the black eagle knew not of. the old men came frequently to comfort us in this way, and it gave us an opportunity of telling them about christ, who is the great conqueror over death and the grave. sometimes they came in and sat in silence, as old sleepy eyes and tankamane often did, and that did us good. old gray leaf had a gift of talking--he believed in talking. when he came in, he made an excited speech, and at the close said, "i don't mean anything." * * * * * about this time mary wrote: "a few days after t. was drowned, some of the indians here, entirely regardless of our affliction, came and demanded provisions as pay for the logs in our cabin. mr. riggs had previously given them two barrels of flour, and it was out of our power to aid them any more then, although mr. r. told them, after their cruel speeches, that he would endeavor to purchase some corn, when the fur company's boat came up. they threatened killing our cattle and tearing down our cabin, and husband's proposition did not prevent their executing the first part of their threat. just one week after dear t. was drowned, one ox was killed, and in eight days more the other shared the same fate. then we _felt_ that it was very probable our cabin would be demolished next." * * * * * the summer was wearing away. we were getting some access to the people. on the sabbath, we could gather in a few, to be present while we sang dakota hymns and read the bible and prayed. but there was a good deal of opposition. as our oxen had been killed and eaten, and we were approaching the winter, it was necessary that we have some means of drawing our firewood. so i bought _one_ ox, and harnessed him as the red river people do. he was a faithful servant to us during that winter, but the next summer he too was killed and eaten. this time they came boldly, and broke open our stable, and killed and carried away the animal. it seemed as if they were determined that we should not stay. did the lord mean to have us give up our work there? we did not want to decide that question hastily. in the meantime, the field was proving to be a very unpromising as well as difficult one, because of the great quantities of whiskey brought in. st. paul was then made up of a few grog-shops, which relied chiefly on the trade with the indians. they took pelts, or guns, or blankets, or horses--whatever the indian had to give for his keg of whiskey. the trade was a good one. the lower sioux bought for the upper ones, and helped them to buy; and those at the traverse and other points engaged in the carrying trade. when a keg was brought up, a general _drunk_ was the result; but there was enough left to fill with water, and carry up farther and sell for a pony. this made our work very discouraging. besides, we were often annoyed by the visits of drunken indians. sometimes they came with guns and knives. so that we all felt the strain of those years, and we often asked one another, "what good is to come of this?" one winter night, sleepy eyes had come in from swan lake, and placed his horse at our haystack, while he himself went to the trader's to spend the night. just before we retired to rest, we heard voices and feet hurrying past our door. i went out and found that two men and a woman were at the stable--the men were shooting arrows into sleepy eyes' horse. one of the men said, "i asked uncle for this horse, and he did not give it to me--i am killing it." they had done their work. perhaps i had interfered unnecessarily--certainly unsuccessfully. as they returned and passed by our cabin, i was behind them, and, as i was stepping in at the door, an arrow whizzed by. was it intended to hit? the next morning that indian started off for whiskey, but a white man passed down the country also, and told the story at fort snelling. the result was that the man who killed his uncle's horse was put in the guard-house. not for that, but for shooting at a white man, he was to be taken down into iowa, to be tried for assault. the commandant of the post at snelling doubted whether good would come of it, and i fully agreed with him. and so, in the month of march, tankamane (big walker) and i went down to the fort and procured his release. he promised well--he would drink no whiskey while he lived--he would always be the white man's friend. he signed the pledge and went back with big walker and myself. a captain's wife asked how i dared to go in company with that man. i said, "madam, that man will be my best friend." and so he was. he went up to the blue earth hunting-grounds, and brought us in some fine venison hams. but still intemperance increased. a drunken man went to the mission singing, and asked for food. they gave him a plate of rice and a spoon, but he did not feel like eating then. after slobbering over it awhile, he compelled the white women to eat it. they were too much afraid to refuse. one time mr. hopkins and i were both away until midnight, when my friend, tankamane, while drunk, visited the house and threatened to break in the door. but we reached home soon afterward, and the women slept. thus we had the "terror and the arrow," but the lord shielded us. these were very trying years of missionary work. it was at this time our good friend and brother, simon anawangmane, who had come from lac-qui-parle, gave way to the temptation of strong drink. we were grieved, and he was ashamed. we prayed for him and with him, and besought him to touch it not again. he promised, but he did not keep his promise. he soon developed a passion for "fire water." it was not long before he put off his white man's clothes, and, dressed like an indian, he too was on his way to the western plains, to buy a horse with a keg of whiskey. there were times of repenting and attempted reformation, but they were followed by sinning again and again. shame took possession of the man, and shame among the dakotas holds with a terrible grip. he will not let go, and is not easily shaken off. _shame_ is a shameless fellow; it instigates to many crimes. so eight years passed with simon. sometimes he was almost persuaded to attempt a new life. sometimes he came to church and sat down on the door-step, not venturing to go in; he was afraid of himself, as well he might be. "traverse des sioux, july , . "... the indians and the babies, the chickens and the mice, seem leagued to destroy the flowers, and they have wellnigh succeeded. perhaps you will wonder why i should bestow any of my precious time on flowers, when their cultivation is attended with so many difficulties. the principal reason is that i find my mind needs some such cheering relaxation. in leaving my childhood's home for this indian land, you know, my dear mother, i left almost everything i held dear, and gave up almost every innocent pleasure i once enjoyed. much as i may have failed in many respects, i am persuaded there was a firmness of purpose, to count no necessary sacrifice _too great_ to be made. i do not think i have made what should be called _great sacrifices_, but i am using the phrase as it is often used, and i am conscious that, in some respects, i have tasked myself too hard. i feel that i have grown old beyond my years. even the last year has added greatly to my gray hairs. i have been spending my strength too rapidly, and i have often neglected to apply to him for strength of whom isaiah says, 'he giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.' how beautiful and precious is the promise to those who wait upon the lord! when 'even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall'; 'they that wait upon the lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings, as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.' oh, if we could _live by faith_, the difficulties and the trials of the way would not greatly trouble or distress us." in the spring of , robert and agnes hopkins came down from lac-qui-parle, and, for the next seven years, were identified with the missionary work at traverse des sioux. the opposition to our remaining gradually died away and was lived down. louis provencalle, the trader, _alias_ le bland, had probably tried to carry water on both shoulders, but he was thoroughly converted to our friendship by an accident which happened to himself. the old gentleman was carrying corn, in strings, into his upper chamber by an outside ladder. with a load of this corn on his back, he fell and caught on his picket fence, the sharp-pointed wood making a terrible hole in his flesh. for months i visited him almost daily and dressed his wound. he recovered, and, although he was not the less a romanist, he and his family often came to our meetings, and were our fast friends. perhaps some seeds of truth were then sown, which bore fruit in the family a score of years afterward. thus we had, occasionally, an opportunity to help a fellow white man in trouble. it was one saturday in the early part of september, while we were at work on our school-house, that an indian runner came in from swan lake, to tell us that a "ghost" had come to their camp. a white man had come in in the most forlorn and destitute condition. the story is well told by mary in her letters home. "traverse des sioux, oct. , . "we have just returned in safety, after spending a week very pleasantly and profitably at lac-qui-parle. an armed force, from forts snelling and atkinson, have recently passed up to lake traverse, to obtain the murderers of an american killed by a sisseton war-party this summer. "the circumstances of the murder were very aggravating, as communicated to us by the only known survivor. a gentleman from the state of missouri, turner by name, with three men, were on their way to fort snelling with a drove of cattle for the indians. being unacquainted with the country, they wandered to the north-west, when they were met by a war-party of sisseton sioux, returning from an unsuccessful raid upon the ojibwas. finding them where they did, on their way apparently to the red river of the north, they supposed they belonged to that settlement, with whom they had recently had a quarrel about hunting buffalo. and so they commenced to treat these white men roughly, demanding their horses, guns, and clothes. one man resisted and was killed, the others were robbed. shirts, drawers, hats, and vests were all that were left them. some of the cattle were killed, and the rest fled. one of the americans, with some indians, were sent after them, but he made his escape, and was never heard of again. the next morning, the other two were permitted to leave, but the only requests they made, for their coats, a knife, and a life-preserver, were not granted. "the second and third day after this escape, they saw the cattle, and if only a knife had been spared them, they might have supplied themselves with provisions, but as they were, it was safest, they thought, to hasten on. on the fourth day they came to a stream too deep to ford, and turner could not swim. poor bennett attempted to swim with him, but was drawn under several times, and, to save his own life, was obliged to disengage himself from turner, who was drowned. bennett came on alone five days, finding nothing to eat but hazel-nuts, when at length he came in sight of the sioux lodges at swan lake. he lay awake that night deliberating whether he should go to them or not. 'if i went,' he said, 'i expected they would kill me; if i did not go, i knew i must die, and i concluded to go, for i could but die.' "the next morning he tottered toward the sioux camp. ever and anon he stopped and hid in the grass. the dakotas watched his movements. some young men went out to meet him, but bennett was afraid of them, and tried to crawl away. when the old man sleepy eyes himself came in sight, his benevolent, honest countenance assured the young white man, and he staggered toward the dakota chief. his confidence was not misplaced. sleepy eyes took the _wanage ghost_, as they called him, to his tent, and his daughter made bread for him of flour, which the old man had bought of us a few days before; and bennett declared he never ate such good bread in his life. mr. riggs brought him home, for which he said he was willing to be his servant forever. we furnished him with such clothing as we had, and after three weeks recruiting we sent him home. at fort snelling, he was furnished with money to go to his parents, whom he had left without their consent. "since our return from lac-qui-parle, the indians have been drunk less than for some time before. at one time quite a number of men came in a body and demanded powder, which mr. riggs intended giving them. i buttoned the door to prevent their entrance, as mr. riggs was not in at the moment, but the button flew into pieces as the sinewy arm of tankamane pressed the latch. some of the party were but slightly intoxicated. those mr. riggs told positively that he should not listen to a request made by drunken men, notwithstanding their threatening 'to soldier kill' him--that is, to kill his horse. tankamane was so drunk that he would not be silent enough to hear, until mr. r. covered his mouth with his hand and commanded him to be still, and then assured them that he was not ready to give them the powder, and that they had better go home, which they did soon. "i am not usually much alarmed, though often considerably excited. some sabbaths since, a party of indians brought a keg of whiskey, and proposed drinking it in our new building, which is intended for a chapel and school-room. but the lord did not permit this desecration. one of their number objected to the plan, and they drank it outside the door." when our school-house was erected and partly finished, our efforts at teaching took on more of regularity. it was a more convenient room to hold our sabbath service in. in religious teaching, as well as in the school, mr. hopkins was an indefatigable worker. he learned the language slowly but well. often he made visits to the indian camps miles away. when the dakotas of that neighborhood abstained for a while from drinking, we became encouraged to think that some good impressions were being made upon them. but there would come a new flooding of _spirit water_, and a revival of drinking. thus our hopes were blasted. "traverse des sioux, march , . "at the present time our indian neighbors are absent, some at their sugar camps, and others hunting musk-rats. thus far the season has not been favorable for making sugar, and we have purchased but a few pounds, giving in return flour or corn, of which we have but little to spare. last spring, we procured our year's supply from the indians, and for the most of it we gave calico in exchange. not for our sakes, but for the sake of our ragged and hungry neighbors, i should rejoice in their having an abundant supply. they eat sugar, during the season, as freely as we eat bread, and what they do not need for food they can exchange for clothing. but they will have but little for either, unless the weather is more favorable the last half than it has been the first part of this month. and they are so superstitious that some, i presume, will attribute the unpropitious sky and wind to our influence. mr. hopkins visited several camps about ten miles distant, soon after the first and thus far the only good sugar weather. one woman said to him, 'you visited us last winter; before you came there were a great many deer, but afterward none; and now we have made some sugar, but you have come, and perhaps we shall make no more.'" "june , . "_my dear mother_:-- "having put our missionary cabin in order for the reception of captains sumner and allen, and dr. nichols, of the army, i am reminded of home. i have not made half the preparation which you used to make to receive military company, and i could not if i would, neither would i if i could. i do, however, sometimes wish it afforded me more pleasure to receive such guests, when they occasionally pass through the country. we have so many uncivilized and so few civilized, and our circumstances are such that i almost shrink from trying to entertain company. i sometimes think that even mother, with all her hospitality, would become a little selfish if her kitchen, parlor, and dining-room were all _one_." this was the second military expedition made to secure the offenders of the sisseton war-party. the one made in the fall of secured five indians, but not the ones considered most guilty. but they made their escape on the way down to traverse des sioux. the expedition, to which reference is made above, was more successful. the indians pledged themselves to deliver up the guilty men. they did so. four men were delivered up and taken down to dubuque, iowa, where they were kept in confinement until winter. then they were permitted to escape, and, strange to say, _three_ of them died while making their way back, and one lived to reach his friends. it was very remarkable that _three indians_ should be placed over against _three white men_ in the outcome of providence. "aug. , . "our garden enclosure extends around the back side and both ends of our mission house, while in front is a double log cabin, with a porch between. back of the porch we have a _very small_ bedroom, which our children now occupy, and back of our cabin, as it was first erected, we have a larger bedroom, which, by way of distinction, we call the _nursery_. the door from this room opens into the garden. the room does not extend _half_ the length of the double log cabin, so that mr. hopkins has a room corresponding with our nursery, and then, between the two wings, we have two small windows, one in the children's bedroom, and the other in our family-room. shading the latter are alfred's morning-glories and a rose-bush. a shoot from this wild rose has often attracted my attention, as, day after day, it has continued its upward course. it is now _seven feet high_--the growth of a single season--and is still aspiring to be higher. bowed beneath it is a sister stalk laden with rose-buds. last year it was trampled upon by drunken indians, but now our fence affords us some protection, and we flattered ourselves that our pumpkins and squashes would be unmolested. but we found, to our surprise, one day, that our garden had been stripped of the larger pumpkins the night previous. our situation here, at a point where the roving sons of the prairie congregate, exposes us to annoyances of this kind more frequently than at other stations among the sioux. i can sympathize very fully with moffat in like grievances, which he mentions in his 'southern africa.'" "jan. , . "for several sabbaths past we have had a _small_ congregation. it encourages us somewhat to see even a few induced to listen for a short time to the truths of the gospel. but our chief encouragement is in god's unfailing promises. the indians here usually sit during the whole service, and sometimes smoke several times. "for some weeks i have been teaching the female part of our school. some days half a dozen black-eyed girls come, and then, again, only one or two. their parents tell them that we ought to pay them for coming to school, and, although there have been no threats of cutting up the blankets of those who read, as there was last winter, they are still ridiculed and reproached. we have in various ways endeavored to reward them for regular attendance, in such a manner as not to favor the idea that we were hiring them." in the spring of , mary wanted to get away for a little rest. we fitted up a canoe, and, with a young man of the fur-trade, we started down the minnesota. mary had her baby, our fourth child, whose name was anna jane. we had scarcely well started when we met drunken indians. their canoe was laden with kegs of whiskey, and they were on shore cooking. they called to us to come over and give them some food; but we passed by on the other side. one man raised his gun and poured into us a volley of buckshot. fortunately, mary and the baby were not touched. the canoe and the rest of us were somewhat sprinkled, but not seriously hurt. that canoe voyage was continued down the mississippi river as far as red wing. at mr. pond's station we took in jane lamonte, afterward mrs. titus. where the city of st. paul now is, we made a short stop, and i hunted up one of our dakota church members, the wife of a frenchman. a half a dozen log houses, one here and one there, made up the st. paul of that day. at pine bend, mr. brown left us. after that, the rowing was heavy, and the muscles were light. just above the mouth of the st. croix, we found a house, where we spent the night comfortably. the next day, we reached red wing, a dakota village, or hay-minne-chan, with much difficulty. we had to row against a strong head wind, and i, who was the principal oarsman, fell sick. but, as providence would have it, we came upon a wood-man, who took us to the village. red wing was the station of the swiss mission, occupied by the dentans. mrs. dentan had been a teacher in the mackinaw mission school. here we found good christian friends, and spent two weeks in helping them to do missionary work. while we were there, i went to see a young man whom the medicine-men were conjuring. the dakota doctor claimed that the spirit which caused the disease was greatly enraged at my presence. and so, at their earnest request, i retired. that sick young man is now one of our excellent native pastors. we have since talked over the event with much interest. chapter vii. - .--returning to lac-qui-parle.--reasons therefor.--mary's story.--"give me my old seat, mother."--at lac-qui-parle.--new arrangements.--better understanding.--buffalo plenty.--mary's story.--little samuel died.--going on the hunt.--vision of home.--building house.--dakota camp.--soldier's lodge.--wakanmane's village.--making a presbytery.--new recruits.--meeting at kaposia.--mary's story.--varied trials.--sabbath worship.--"what is to die?"--new stations.--making a treaty.--mr. hopkins drowned.--personal experience. the time came when it was decided that mary and i should go back to lac-qui-parle. the four years since we left had brought many changes. they had been years of discouragement and hardship all along the line. the brothers pond had built among the people of their first love--the old lake calhoun band, now located a short distance up from the mouth of the minnesota. there they had a few who came regularly to worship and to learn the way of life. but the mass of the people of cloud man's village were either indifferent or opposed to the gospel of christ. at lac-qui-parle, where had been the best seed-sowing and harvesting for the first seven years, the work had gone backward. bad corn years had driven some of the native christians to take refuge among the annuity indians of the mississippi. temptations of various kinds had drawn away others--they had stumbled and fallen. persecutions from the heathen party had deterred others, and some had fallen asleep in christ. among these last was mr. joseph renville, who had stood by the work from the beginning. he had passed away in the month of march; and thus the lac-qui-parle church was reduced to less than half its members of four years ago. out of this church there had gone a half a dozen or so, chiefly women, down to kaposia, or little crow's village, which was on the mississippi, a few miles below the site of st. paul. through them, more than any other influence perhaps, there came an invitation, from little crow and the head men of the village, to dr. williamson, through the indian agent at fort snelling, to come down and open a school and a mission. this application was considered at the meeting of the dakota mission held at the traverse, and the voices were in favor of acceptance. but if dr. williamson left lac-qui-parle, that involved the necessity of our returning thither. this proposition mary could not entertain willingly. true, the work at the traverse had been full of hardships and suffering, but the very sufferings and sorrows, and especially that great first sorrow, had strongly wedded her affections to the place and the people. it was hard to leave those oaks of weeping. she could not see that it was right; still, she would not refuse to obey orders. and so the month of september, , found us travelling over the same road that we had gone on our first journey, just nine years before. then we two had gone; now we had with us our four little ones, but it was a sad journey. the mother's heart was not convinced, nor was it satisfied we had done right, until some time after we reached lac-qui-parle. mary's story. "traverse des sioux, sept. , . "this is probably the last letter i shall write you from this spot so dear to us. if i could see that it was duty to go, it would cheer me in the preparations for our departure, but i cannot feel that the interests of the mission required such a sacrifice as leaving this home is to me. "these are some of the thoughts that darken the prospect, when i think of leaving the comforts and conveniences which we have only enjoyed one or two short summers--such as the enclosure for our children--our rude back porch which has served for a kitchen, the door into which i helped mr. riggs saw with a cross-cut saw, because he could get no one to help him. we located here in the midst of opposition and danger, yet god made our enemies to be at peace with us. sad will be the hour when i take the last look of our low log cabins, our neat white chapel, and dear thomas' grave." "lac-qui-parle, dec. , . "how pleasant it would be, dear mother, to join your little circle around home's hearth; but it is vain to wish, and so i take my pen, that this transcript of my heart may enter where i cannot. in one of the late new york _observers_, i found a gem of poetry, which seemed so much like the gushings of my affection for my mother that i must send you the verse which pleased me best:-- "'give me my old seat, mother, with my head upon thy knee; i've passed through many a changing scene, since thus i sat by thee, "oh, let me look into thine eyes-- their meek, soft, loving light falls like a gleam of holiness, upon my heart, to-night!' "how very often have i found myself half wishing for my old seat, with my head upon thy knee, that i might impart to you my joys and my sorrows, and listen to your own. in times of difficulty and distress, how i have longed for your counsel and cheering sympathy. after leaving our home at traverse des sioux and reaching this place, my heart yearned to embrace you. my associates could not comprehend why it should be so trying to me to leave that place so dear to us. i had hoped to live and die and be buried there by the loved grave of thomas. i had laid plans for usefulness there, and the change that came over us in one short week, during which we packed all our effects and prepared for the journey, was so sudden and so great that it often seemed i should sink under it. had i been able to see it clearly our duty, the case would have been different. i hope it will prove for the best. doubtless i was too much attached to that burial spot and that garden of roses. henceforth, may i more fully realize that 'we have no abiding city here,' and, like a pilgrim, press onward to that eternal haven--that unchanging home--little mindful where i pass the few brief nights that may intervene." "dec. . "you will, i think, feel gratified to know that there are some things pleasant and encouraging here, notwithstanding the discouragements. the sound of the church-going bell is heard here--the bell which we purchased with the avails of moccasins donated by the church members. some of those contributors are dead, and others have backslidden or removed; still, there are more hearers of the word here than at traverse des sioux, although the large majority in both places turn a deaf ear to the calls and entreaties of the gospel. quite a number of the women who attend the sabbath services can read, but some of them can not find the hymns, and i enjoy very much finding the places for them." our place at the traverse was filled by mr. a. g. huggins' family, who thenceforward became associated with mr. hopkins, until they closed their connection with the mission work. fanny huggins had married jonas pettijohn, and they were our helpers at lac-qui-parle for the next five years. the time seemed to have come when our relations to the indians should, if possible, be placed upon a better basis. from the time that the chief men came to understand that the religion of christ was an exclusive religion, that it would require the giving up of their ancestral faith, they set themselves in opposition to it. sometimes this was shown in their persecution of the native christians, forbidding them to attend our meetings, and cutting up the blankets of those who came. sometimes it was exhibited in the order that the children should not attend school. but the organized determination to drive us from the country showed itself most decidedly in killing our cattle. we could not continue in the country, and make ourselves comfortable, without a team of some kind. this, then, was to be their policy. they would kill our cattle. they would steal our horses. and they had so persistently held to this line of treatment, during the last four years, that dr. williamson and his associates had with difficulty kept a team of any kind. once they were obliged to hitch up milch cows to haul firewood. the indians said we were trespassers in their country, and they had a right to take reprisals. we used their wood and their water, and pastured our animals on their grass, and gave them no adequate pay. we had helped them get larger corn-patches by ploughing for them, we had furnished food and medicines to their sick ones, we had often clothed their naked ones, we had spent and been spent in their service, but all this was, in their estimation, no compensation for the field we planted, and the fuel we used, and the grass we cut, and the water we drank. they were worth a thousand dollars a year! and so it seemed to me the time had come when some better understanding should be reached in regard to these things. i called the principal men of the village--oo-pe-ya-hdaya, inyangmane, and wakanmane, and others--and told them that, as dr. williamson was called away by the lower indians, my wife and i had been sent back to lac-qui-parle, but we would stay only on certain conditions. we knew them and they knew us. if we could stay with them as friends, and be treated as friends, we would stay. we came to teach them and their children. but if then, or at any time afterward, we learned that the whole village did not want us to stay, we would go home to our friends. for the help we gave them, the water we used must be free, the wood to keep us warm must be free, the grass our cattle ate must be free, and the field we planted must be free; but when we wanted their best timber to build houses with, which we should do, i would pay them liberally for it. this arrangement they said was satisfactory, and soon afterward we bought from them the timber we used in erecting two frame houses. from this time onward we did not suffer so much from cattle-killing, though it has always been an incident attaching to mission life among the indians. for the years that followed we were generally treated as friends. sometimes there was a breeze of opposition, some wanted us to go away, but we always had friends who stood by us. and they were not always of the same party. the results of mission work began to be seen in the young men who grew up, many of them desirous of adopting, in part at least, the habits and the dress of the whites. there was another reason for a cessation of hostilities on their part; _viz._, that starvation did not so much stare them in the face. they had better corn crops than for some years previous. and, besides this, for two seasons the buffalo range was extended down the minnesota far below lac-qui-parle. for many years they had been far away, west of lake traverse. now they came back, and for two winters our indians revelled in fresh buffalo meat, their children and dogs even growing fat. and the buffalo robes gave them the means of clothing their families comfortably. sometimes the herds of bison came into the immediate neighborhood of the village. one morning it was found that a large drove had slept on the prairie but a little distance back of our mission houses. mr. martin mcleod, the trader, and a few others organized a hunt on horseback. there was snow on the ground, i hitched our ponies to a rude sled, and we went to the show. as the hunters came into the herd and began to shoot them, the excitement increased in our sled--the ponies could not go fast enough for the lady. we now addressed ourselves afresh to the work of teaching and preaching. the day-school filled up. we took some children into our families. the young men who had learned to read and write when they were boys, came and wanted to learn something of arithmetic and geography. in the work of preaching i began to feel more freedom and joy. there had been times when the dakota language seemed to be barren and meaningless. the words for salvation and life, and even death and sin, did not mean what they did in english. it was not to me a heart-language. but this passed away. a dakota word began to _thrill_ as an english word. christ came into the language. the holy spirit began to pour sweetness and power into it. then it was not exhausting, as it sometimes had been--it became a joy to preach. mary's story. "lac-qui-parle, may , . "since mr. riggs left home, two weeks to-day, i have had a double share of wants to supply. i could almost wish he had locked up the medicine-case and taken the key with him, for i have not so much confidence in my skill as to suppose the indians would have suffered if it had been out of my power to satisfy their wants. i purposed only giving rhubarb and a few other simples, but i have been besieged until i have yielded, and have no relief to hope for until mr. riggs returns. "in addition to the medicines, there has been a great demand for garden-seeds, to say nothing of the common wants of a little thread, or soap, or patches for a ragged short-gown, or a strip of white cloth for the head to enable them to kill ducks or buffalo, as the case may be. there is scarcely any view of god's character that gives me so clear an apprehension of his infinite goodness and power as that of his kind care of his sinful creatures. he listens to their requests, and giving doth not impoverish, neither doth withholding enrich him." "may . "this afternoon twenty-six armed indian men paraded before the door and discharged their guns. i was a little startled at first, but soon learned that they had been in search of chippewas that were supposed to be concealed near by, and that they had returned unsuccessful, and were merely indulging in a little military exercise." "jan. , . "the last sabbath in december, mr. riggs spent at an indian encampment about sixteen miles from this place. when he left home, baby _samuel_, mr. and mrs. pettijohn's only child, was ill, but we did not apprehend dangerously so; when he returned on monday noon, little samuel was dead. this has been a severe affliction to them. why was this first-born and only son taken, and our five children spared, is a query that often arises. "some weeks ago, an elderly woman with a young babe begged me for clothing for the little one. i asked her if it was her child. she replied that it was her grandchild, that its mother died last summer, and that she had nursed it ever since. at first she had no milk, but she continued nursing it, until the milk flowed for the little orphan. this, thought i, is an evidence of a grandmother's love not often witnessed. i felt very compassionate for the baby, and gave the grandmother some old clothing. after she left, a knife was missing, which seemed rather like a gypsy's compensation for the kindness received. but perhaps she was not the thief, as our house was then thronged with visitors from morning till night. we endeavor to keep such things as they will be tempted to steal out of their reach, but a mother can not watch three or four children, and perform necessary household duties at the same time, without sometimes affording an opportunity for a cunning hand to slip away a pair of scissors or a knife unnoticed. "the buffalo are about us in large herds. i have just taken a ride of four or five miles to see these natives of the prairie. before the herd perceived our approach, they were quietly standing together, but, on perceiving us, they waited a moment for consultation, and then started bounding away. those who were prepared for the chase entered their ranks, and then the herd separated into three or four parts, and scampered for life in as many different directions. several were killed and dressed, and we brought home the huge head of one for the children to see, besides the tongue and some meat, which were given us as our share of the spoils." "may , . "how very quiet and green i think those lanes are--no noise except the whispering winds in those beautiful elms and maples; and those still rooms, where rang the merry shout of children returned from school. i could almost fancy they would look as sober and sombre as those dark firs under which we played when we and they were small. _they_ still are young and vigorous, for aught i know, but _we_, alas! are young no longer. do the lilacs and roses and snowballs still bloom as brightly as ever? but the thought of those bright and beautiful scenes makes me sad, and i wish to write a cheering letter, so good-by to the visions of departed joys. "we are building, this summer, a plain, snug, one-story house, with a sitting-room, kitchen, and two bedrooms on the lower floor, and two rooms above, if ever they should be completed. we have been hoping to have a young lady to assist in teaching, etc., for an occupant of one of our bedrooms, but the prospect is rather discouraging. and yet i feel that it is no more so than we deserve, for i have not exercised faith in this respect. i have, however, some hope that he 'who is able to do exceeding abundantly, above all that we ask or think,' will send us such fellow-laborers as we need." during these two buffalo winters, almost the whole village removed up to the pomme de terre, or _owobaptay_ river as the dakotas called it. that was a better point to hunt from. for the regulation of the hunt, and to prevent the buffalo from being driven off, they organized a _soldiers' lodge_. this was a large tent pitched in the centre of the camp, where the symbols of power were kept in two bundles of _red_ and _black_ sticks. these represented the soldiers--those who had killed enemies and those who had not. to this tent the women brought offerings of wood and meat; and here the young and old men often gathered to feast, and from these headquarters went forth, through an _eyanpaha_ (cryer), the edicts of the wise men. for these two winters, i arranged to spend every alternate sabbath at the camp, going up on saturday and returning on monday. this soldiers' tent was, from the first, placed at my disposal for sabbath meetings. it was an evidence of a great change in the general feeling of the village toward christianity. it was a public recognition of it. all were not christians by any means; but the _following_ was honorable and honored, and we usually had a crowded tent. our evening meetings were held in the tent of one of our church members. so the word of god grew in dakota soil. where the village of lac-qui-parle now stands is the site of wakanmane's planting-place and village of those days. in one of the summer bark houses, we were accustomed to hold a week-day meeting. our mission was three miles from there, and on the other side of the minnesota; but it was only a pleasant walk of a summer day, and i was sure to find a little company, chiefly women, of from half a dozen to a dozen present. after two years' absence, dr. williamson returned to lac-qui-parle on a visit, and remarked that he had found no meetings among the dakotas so stimulating and encouraging as that weekly prayer-meeting. i have since spent a sabbath, and worshipped with white people on the same spot. it seemed like jacob coming back to bethel, where the angels of god had been. there were still few things to encourage, and many to discourage, all through the dakota field; but it began to appear to us that if our forces could be doubled, the work, with god's blessing, might be pushed forward successfully. and so the dakota presbytery, which was organized in , proceeded to license and ordain gideon h. pond and robert hopkins as ministers of the gospel. they had both been working in this line for years, and it was fit that they should now be properly recognized as fellow-laborers in the vineyard of the lord. the american board was ready also to respond to our call for more help. in the spring of , rev. m. n. adams and rev. john f. aiton were sent up from ohio and illinois; and, later in the season, rev. joshua potter came from the cherokee country. our annual meeting was held that year with dr. williamson, at his new station, kaposia, a few miles below st. paul. it was a meeting of more than ordinary interest; not only on account of our own reinforcements, but because we met there two lady teachers (gov. slade's girls), the first sent out to the white settlements of minnesota. the toilers of fourteen years among the dakotas now shook hands with the first toilers among the white people. the boy thomas had been added to our little group of children. with a part of the family, mary now made the trip back to the traverse, with a much gladder heart than she had when coming up two years before. mary's story. "lac-qui-parle, oct. , . "this year the annual meeting of our mission was at kaposia, the station occupied by dr. williamson and family. i accompanied mr. riggs with three of our children. from the traverse, mr. hopkins had arranged that we should proceed through the big woods, by means of ox-carts. there was no road cut yet, and hundreds of large logs lay across the path; but the patient animals worried over them, and drivers and riders were very weary when, late at night, we came into camp. at prairieville, as _tintatonwe_ signifies, where mr. s. w. pond is located, we spent the sabbath, and reached dr. williamson's on monday, _only eight days_ from lac-qui-parle, not a little fatigued, but greatly prospered in our journey. more truly than did the gibeonites could we say, 'this our bread we took hot for our provision out of our houses on the day we came forth to go unto you; but now, behold, it is dry, and it is mouldy.' "at kaposia we found the messrs. pond, also mr. and mrs. aiton, and mr. and mrs. adams, who have recently joined the sioux mission. mr. and mrs. hopkins, with their three children, who were of our party from the traverse, and ourselves in addition to dr. williamson's family, made such a company as i had not seen for a long time. the warm reception we met with from so many kindred in christ excited me almost as much as did the greeting at home after five years' absence. it reminded me of that happy meeting, and, as at that time, i was overpowered with joyful emotions. "we passed nearly a week at kaposia, and then set our faces homeward, spending a night at mr. g. h. pond's, at oak grove, and one also at mr. samuel w. pond's, at tintatonwe. two nights we camped out, and reached traverse on friday afternoon. while there i often went to brother thomas' grave. the turf, which i assisted in setting, was very green, and the rose-bushes were flourishing. the cedar we planted withered, but a beautiful one, placed by mr. hopkins near the grave, is fresh and verdant. mr. and mrs. adams returned with us to lac-qui-parle." "lac-qui-parle, jan. , . "the spirit has seemed near us, and we hope a. is listening to his teachings. some of the indians also have manifested an inquiring state of mind, but satan is very busy, and unless the lord rescues his rebellious subjects from the thraldom of the devil, i fear the holy spirit will depart from us. "the same foolish yet trying accusations are made--such as that we are to receive pay according to the number of scholars in the school here when the land is sold--that we are using up their grass and timber and land, and making them no requital. a few days ago the old chief and his brother-in-law came and rehearsed their supposed claims, and said that the indians were tired eating corn and wanted one of our remaining cattle. truly we can say that this earth is not our _rest_, and rejoice that we shall not live here always. "we have had faith to expect that the lord was about to 'make bare his arm' for the salvation of these degraded indians; and although the heathen rage, we know that he who 'sitteth on the circle of the earth and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers,' can turn the hearts of this people as the rivers of water are turned." "may , . "during mr. riggs' absence, our worship on the sabbath, both in sioux and english, has consisted of reading the scriptures, singing, and prayer. i have been gratified that so many attended the sioux service--about thirty each sabbath. anna jane remarked the saturday after her father left home, 'we can't have any sabbath because two men and one woman are gone,' referring to her papa and mr. and mrs. adams. still, these sabbaths have brought to us privileges, even though the preached word and the great congregation have been wanting." "june . "mr. riggs reached home two weeks ago, and last monday he left again for big stone lake, accompanied by mr. hopkins of traverse des sioux. they have gone hoping for opportunities to proclaim the word of god to the sioux in that region." "sept. , . "last evening, hearing thomas cry after he had gone to rest, i went to the chamber. alfred was teaching him to say, 'now i lay me,' and the sentence, 'if i should die,' distressed him very much. i soothed him by asking god to keep him through the night. he has never seen a corpse, but, a few weeks ago, he saw mrs. antoine renville buried, and he has seen dead birds and chickens. he said, 'what is to die, mamma?' and evidently felt that it was something very incomprehensible and dreadful. i felt a difficulty in explaining it, and i wished to soothe the animal excitement, and not lessen the serious state of mind he manifested. i think i will tell him more about jesus' death--his burial and resurrection. it is this that has illumined the grave. it is faith in him who has conquered 'him that had the power of death,' which will give us the victory over every fear." with an increased missionary force, we hoped to see large results within the next few years. there _was_ progress made, but not so much as we hoped for. in fact, it was chiefly apparent in "strengthening the things that remain." just before this enlargement, mr. s. w. pond had separated from his brother, and formed a station at shakopee, or six's village, which he called _prairieville_. after a while, little churches were organized at kaposia, oak grove, prairieville, and traverse des sioux. at lac-qui-parle the numbers in the church were somewhat increased. we began to have more young men in the church, and they began to separate themselves more and more from the village, and to build cabins and make fields for themselves. thus the religion of christ worked to disintegrate heathenism. the summer of came, which brought great changes, and prepared the way for others. it was one of the very wet summers in minnesota, when the streams were flooded all the summer through. in making our trip for provisions in the spring, we were detained at the crossing of one stream for almost a whole week. in the latter part of june, the indians from all along the upper part of the minnesota were called down to traverse des sioux, to meet commissioners of the government. they were obliged to swim at many places. the minnesota was very high, spreading its waters over all the low bottom contiguous to the mission premises. governor ramsay and commissioner lea were there for the government. general sibley and the fur-traders generally were present, with a large number of the wahpaton and sisseton sioux. the fourth of july was to be celebrated grandly, and mr. hopkins had consented to take a part in the celebration, but the lord disposed otherwise. in the early morning, mr. hopkins went to bathe in the overflow of the river. when the family breakfast was ready he had not returned. he was sought for, and his clothes alone were found. he had gone up through the flood of water. it was supposed that, unintentionally, he had waded in beyond his depth, and, as he could not swim, was unable again to reach the land. this was the second great sorrow that came, in the same way, to the mission band of traverse des sioux. it threw a pall over the festivities of the day. the indians said again the oonktehe--their neptune--was angry and had taken the _wechasta wakan_. but the mission families were enabled to say, "it is the lord." when the body floated it was caught in fishing nets, and carefully taken up and buried by the "oaks of weeping." mr. hopkins did not live to see much matured fruit of his labors, but he had put in eight years of good, honest work for the master, among the dakotas, and he has his reward. the treaty was made, which, with one consummated immediately after, at mendota, with the lower sioux, conveyed to the white people all their land in minnesota, except a reserve on the upper part of the river. these treaties had an important bearing on our mission work and on all the eastern dakotas. the messenger who brought word to us at lac-qui-parle of the sudden death of our brother, robert hopkins, brought also to me a pressing invitation from the commission to attend the making of the treaty. i at once mounted a pony and rode down. it gave me an opportunity of seeing the inside of indian treaties. on my return, i was in advance of the indians, and, coming to the chippewa alone, i found no way of crossing its swollen tide but by swimming. in the middle of the stream, my horse turned over backward, and we went down to the bottom together. he soon, however, righted himself, and i came up by his side, with one hand holding his mane. i remember well the feeling i had when in the deep waters, that my horse would take me out. and i was not disappointed. this event has ever since been to me a lesson of trust. "though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, i will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." chapter viii. - .--grammar and dictionary.--how it grew.--publication.--minnesota historical society.--smithsonian institution.--going east.--mission meeting at traverse des sioux.--mrs. hopkins.--death's doings.--changes in the mode of writing dakota.--completed book.--growth of the language.--in brooklyn and philadelphia.--the misses spooner.--changes in the mission.--the ponds and others retire.--dr. williamson at pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze.--winter storms.--andrew hunter.--two families left.--children learning dakota.--our house burned.--the lord provides. a grammer and dictionary of the dakota language had been going through the process of growth in all these years. it was incidental to our missionary work, and in the line of it. the materials came to us naturally in our acquisition of the language, and we simply arranged them. the work of arrangement involved a good deal of labor; but it brought its reward, in the better insight it gave one of their forms of thought and expression. to begin with, we had the advantage of what had been gathered by the messrs. pond and stevens, and dr. williamson, in the three years before we came. perhaps an effort made still earlier, by some officers of the army at fort snelling, in collecting a vocabulary of a few hundred words of the sioux language, should not be overlooked. thus, entering into other men's labors, when we had been a year or more in the country, and were somewhat prepared to reap on our own account, the vocabulary which i had gathered from all sources amounted to about three thousand words. from that time onward, it continued to increase rapidly, as by means of translations and otherwise we were gathering new words. in a couple of years more, the whole needed revision and rewriting, when it was found to have more than doubled. so it grew. mr. s. w. pond also entered into the work of arranging the words and noting the principles of the dakota language. he gave me the free use of his collections, and he had the free use of mine. this will be sufficient to indicate the way in which the work was carried on from year to year. how many dictionaries i made i cannot now remember. when the collection reached ten thousand words and upward, it began to be quite a chore to make a new copy. by and by we had reason to believe that we had gathered pretty much the whole language, and our definitions were measurably correct. it was about the beginning of the year when the question of publication was first discussed. certain gentlemen in the legislature of minnesota, and connected with the historical society of minnesota, became interested in the matter. under the auspicies of this society, a circular was printed setting forth the condition of the manuscript, and the probable expense of publication, and asking the co-operation of all who were interested in giving the language of the dakotas to the literary world in a tangible and permanent form. the subscription thus started by the historical society, and headed by such names as alexander ramsay (then governor of the territory), rev. e. d. neill (the secretary of the society), h. h. sibley, h. m. rice, and martin mcleod (the chiefs of the fur-trade), in the course of the summer, amounted to about eight hundred dollars. with this sum pledged, it was considered quite safe to commence the publication. the american board of commissioners for foreign missions very cheerfully consented to pay my expenses while carrying the work through the press, besides making a donation to it directly from their treasury. from these sources we had $ ; and with this sum the book might have been published in a cheap form, relying upon after sales to meet any deficiency. but, after considering the matter, and taking the advice of friends who were interested in the highest success of the undertaking, it was decided to offer it to the smithsonian institution, to be brought out as one of their series of contributions to knowledge. prof. joseph henry at once had it examined by prof. c.c. felton and prof. w.w. turner. it received their approval and was ordered to be printed. * * * * * in the meantime, mary and i had undertaken our second trip to the east. mr. and mrs. adams, who had been away awhile on account of mrs. adams' health, were now back at lac-qui-parle, associated with mr. and mrs. pettijohn. we commenced our journey across the prairie about the first of september. the waters were still high, and we found it necessary to make a boat which should serve as a bed for one of our wagons, and be easily transferred to the water. our children now numbered a round half-dozen. the baby, henry martyn, about two years old, must be taken along, of course. the boy, "good bird," now about fourteen, we would take down with us and send to school in illinois. isabella we concluded to take on to the mother's mountain home in massachusetts. the two little girls were kindly cared for in the family of rev. e. d. neill of st. paul; and the little boy, thomas, was to stay in dr. williamson's family, at kaposia. thus the distribution was finally made. the mission meeting took place this year at traverse des sioux. among other consultations, it was adjudged wise for mrs. hopkins and her three children--the father and husband being gone--to accompany us on their return to her friends in southern ohio. the brothers pond and rev. joseph hancock, who had joined the mission and was stationed at red wing, all had their horses, and, the travel by land being difficult, they put them on board our good mission boat _winona_, and so we had a full cargo down to st. paul. from there we had a steamer to galena, where we took passage in freight wagons that were going to elgin, the terminus of the railroad that was then being made west from chicago. this trip across the country we all greatly enjoyed, stopping at freeport over the sabbath, and listening to the somewhat celebrated revivalist elder knapp. we crossed lake michigan, and by the michigan central to detroit, and then took a lake boat to cleveland. that night we encountered a lake storm; and, while almost every one was sea-sick, mary and i stood on the fore deck and enjoyed watching the mountain waves. reaching the land in safety, mrs. hopkins and her little family went to southern ohio, and we spent a few days in medina, with mary's brother, rev. m. m. longley. we found that the eight years which had passed since we were east before had made a good many vacant chairs in our home circles. my own father had been called from earth very suddenly, in . he was well and had done a hard day's work, but ere the evening shadows fell he had passed beyond the river. the angel of death and the angel of life had visited mary's home again and again. first the grandfather, col. edmund longley, had gone to his fathers, at the good old age of ninety-five. then, in , the _pater familias_, gen. thomas longley, had wrapped his cloak about him and laid him down to rest. the next to hear the summons was the little sister, henrietta arms. she had grown to be a woman, and mary fondly hoped to have her companionship and aid in the dakota field. but the master called her up higher. and then, only a few months before we reached ohio, the loving, cultured, and beloved brother alfred had passed, through months of weariness and pain, up to the new life and vigor of the heavenly world. he had been preaching for several years in north-eastern ohio. so many had gone that when we reached the mountain home in hawley, we found it desolate. only joseph and his mother remained. mary soon persuaded her mother to go down to south deerfield, that they might together spend the winter with the older sister, mrs. cooley. and i went to new york city, and was the next seven months engaged in getting through the press the grammar and dictionary of the dakota language. of the various hindrances and delays, and of the burning of the printing-office in which the work was in progress, and the loss of quite a number of pages of the book, which had to be again made up, i need not speak. they are ordinary incidents. early in the summer of the work was done,--and done, i believe, to the satisfaction of all parties. it has obtained the commendation of literary men generally, and it was said that for no volume published by the smithsonian institution, up to that time, was the demand so great as for that. it is now out of print, and the book can only be bought at fancy prices. the question of republication is sometimes talked of, but no steps have been taken yet to accomplish the object. while, as the years have gone by, and the book has been tested by dakota scholars and found to be all that was ever claimed for it, yet, in case of a republication, some valuable additions can be made to the sixteen thousand words which it contains. the language itself is growing. never, probably, in its whole history, has it grown so much in any quarter of a century as it has in the twenty-five years since the dictionary was published. besides, we have recently been learning more of the teeton dialect, which is spoken by more than half of the whole sioux nation. and, as the translation of the bible has progressed, thoughts and images have been brought in, which have given the language an unction and power unknown to it before.[ ] [ ] a revised edition will soon be published. while we were in the east, several offers were made in regard to taking one of our children. these offers came from the best families, where a child would have enjoyed all the comforts and many of the luxuries of life, more than could be had in our indian home. it was a question that had often claimed our thought, and sometimes had been very favorably considered; but when the opportunity came, we decided to keep our children with us for the present. the circumstances of our home-life had changed somewhat; home education could be carried on to better advantage and with less drawbacks than in the first years of our missionary life. and so in the month of june, when the philadelphia market was red with its best strawberries, we started westward, bringing the two children with us. it had been a profitable year to isabella. the mother and children had spent a couple of the last months with relatives and friends in brooklyn, and now we made a little stop in the quaker city, and visited girard college, fairmount, and other places of interest. it was september when we had gathered all our six children together and were making the trip across the prairie to lac-qui-parle. this time we had with us the misses lucy and mary spooner of kentucky,--since mrs. drake and mrs. worcester. they came out to spend two years in the mission. miss lucy's teaching in music, vocal and instrumental, as well as other branches, was of singular advantage to our own children, as well as to the indians. miss mary went into the family of mr. adams, who had gathered a little boarding-school of dakota children. this might be called the first effort in this line made among the dakotas. before our return, mr. and mrs. pettijohn had taken the pre-emption fever, and had left the mission and gone to the traverse and made a claim. mrs. pettijohn had been connected with the mission work since , and mr. p. for a shorter period. both had been conscientious workers, and had done good service. they now wanted to make a home for their growing family. mr. huggins also, about the same time, left the mission work, and made a home in the same neighborhood. mr. potter had left the dakota field after only a year's trial, regarding it as a very difficult one, as compared with the one he had left in the indian territory south. now, in the years and , our numbers diminished very rapidly. the indians were to be removed, according to the stipulations of their treaties, to their reserve on the upper minnesota. both the brothers pond elected to stay where they were, and minister to the white people who were rapidly settling up the country. both were successful in organizing churches, one at shakopee and the other at bloomington. both still live, but have retired from the work of the ministry, and are waiting for the translation to the upper world.[ ] [ ] since this chapter was written, rev. g. h. pond, the younger of the brothers, has gone to see the king in his beauty, in the land that is not very far off. he departed on the th of january, , leaving a family of _fifty_,--twenty-two were grandchildren,--and all except the sixteen youngest professing christians. likewise, for the same reasons, mr. john f. aiton retired from the service of the board about the same time, and mr. hancock also. dr. williamsom elected to continue his work among the dakotas, and so made arrangements, in advance of the removal of the indians, to open a new station near the yellow medicine, which he called pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze--the dakota name for that stream. during the summer of , dr. williamson had erected his dwelling-house at this new place, but it was still in quite an unfinished state when he removed his family up, in the beginning of the cold weather. that fall the snows came early, and found the family without any sufficient supplies for the winter. in december, the storms were incessant, and the snow became very deep, at which time the doctor's men were toiling against odds, endeavoring to bring up provisions to the family on the yellow medicine. but they could not succeed. when they were yet more than forty miles away, their teams gave out and were buried in the snow. the men, both frozen badly, mr. andrew hunter much maimed, barely succeeded in reaching the mission. how the family were to winter through was not apparent, but the lord provided. unexpectedly, the indians found fish in the river, and mr. adams, with a young man, worked his way down from lac-qui-parle, and carried them what provisions they could on a hand-sled. thus they weathered the terrible winter. thus they commenced mission work at this new place, where they continued for ten years, until the outbreak. at lac-qui-parle we were doing effective christian work. our own family were all together. the hard winter entailed a good deal of hard work. the snow would sift through our roofs and pack into the upper part of our houses, until, as we sometimes said, there was more inside than outside. every day, also, our hay-stacks were covered up with snow, so as to make the labor of feeding the cattle very great. but still these were years of enjoyment and profit. a company of dakota young men were growing up and preparing for work in the future. the next year mr. adams received an invitation to take charge of the church of white people at traverse des sioux, which was the continuation of the mission church organized there. this invitation he accepted, and closed his connection with the special work for the dakotas. it will occur to every reader of these memoirs to note how many men the foreign mission work among the dakotas gave to the home mission work among the white people of minnesota. the shepherds were here in advance of their flocks. the work is one--the world for christ. the dakota mission was now reduced to its lowest terms; only dr. williamson's family and my own remained. if the lord had not given us the victory when we were many, would he do it when we were few? we were sure he could do it. while it is true that the lord is often on the side of the strong battalions, it is not always so. and spiritual forces are not measured by the same rules that measure material forces. so we toiled on with good hope, and when, a year later, we were called to leave lac-qui-parle, and commence our station elsewhere, secretary treat proposed that we call it _new hope_. * * * * * in carrying on missionary labor among a heathen people, the question, what shall be the relation of the children of the mission family to the people? is often a difficult and perplexing one. the springs of the home-life must be kept, as far as possible, from being contaminated. and yet the daily intercourse with those of impure thoughts and impure words is contaminating. shall we make our family a _garden inclosed_? if so, the children when small must not learn the language of the natives. mary and i adopted this principle and carried it out very successfully. up to the time of our return in , our children had hardly learned any dakota. now, our boy alfred was fifteen years old, and had assigned to him duties which made it necessary that he should understand the indians somewhat and make himself understood by them. so he commenced to learn the language. john p. williamson had commenced to talk it much earlier. doubtless the advantage in speaking a language is with those who learn in their very childhood, other things being equal. the reason for the exclusion had partly passed by, and the taking of dakota children into our family, and being closely connected with a boarding-school of dakota children, made it impossible, if it had been desirable, longer to keep up the bars. * * * * * by and by came along the third of march, . the spring had opened early, the ground was bare of snow, and everything was dry. our cellars had been in the habit of freezing, and to protect our potatoes and other vegetables we had been in the habit of stuffing hay under the floor, all around, in the fall. this hay had not yet been removed, and was very dry. the cellar was dark, and a lighted candle was needed by those who went down for any purpose. the mother was preparing for the family dinner, and so had sent down the little boys, thomas and henry, in their seventh and fifth years respectively, to bring her up potatoes. through carelessness, and without thought, perhaps, they held the lighted candle too near the dried hay. it took fire immediately, and in a few seconds of time so filled the cellar with smoke that the boys with some difficulty made their escape. there was no supply of water nearer than the river and spring run, down quite a hill. but every boy and girl were soon carrying water. the difficulty was to reach the fire with the water. the floor was flooded and a hole was cut through, but the fire had taken such a hold of the whole interior, that our little pails full of water were laughed at by the flames. the effort was now made to save something from the burning house. some articles were carried into the other house, which stood near by. but that also took fire, and both houses were soon consumed, with almost all they had contained. a few books were saved, and the chief part of miss spooner's wardrobe and bedding, her room being on the corner away from where the fire commenced. before noon the fire-fiend had done his work, and our mission houses were a mass of coals and ashes. very little had been saved. the potatoes in the cellars were much burned, and cooked; but, underneath, a portion of them were found to be in a good state of preservation. the adobe church, that stood partly under the hill, was the only building that escaped. thither we removed what few things we had saved, and our dakota neighbors were very kind, bringing us what they could; while mr. martin mcleod, the trader, sent us blankets and other things to meet the present necessity, partly as a gift, and partly to be paid for. in a few days dr. williamson came up from pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze with further supplies. and all along through the spring and summer, as our friends in the east heard of our loss, the boxes and barrels were sent for our relief. it did us good to know that we had so many true-hearted friends. [illustration: mary a. riggs.] chapter ix. - .--simon anawangmane.--rebuilding after the fire.--visit of secretary treat.--change of plan.--hazelwood station.--circular saw mill.--mission buildings.--chapel.--civilized community.--making citizens.--boarding-school.--educating our own children.--financial difficulties.--the lord provides.--a great affliction.--smith burgess williamson.--"aunt jane."--bunyan's pilgrim in dakota. when, after the fire, we were somewhat comfortably domiciled in the adobe church, the time came for our regular communion. the disaster had made all our hearts tender, and the opportunity for helpfulness on the part of our native church members, which had been improved by many of them, had drawn us toward them. it was an appropriate time to remember what christ had done for us. and just then we were made very glad by the return of simon anawangmane from his long wanderings. some years before, he had broken away from strong drink, but he was so overcome with remorse and shame that he could not get up courage enough to come back and take again upon him the oath of fealty to the wounded lord. he edged his way back. he had often come and sat on the door-step, not daring to venture in. then he came in and sat down in a corner. by and by he took more courage. he had talked with dr. williamson at yellow medicine, who gave him a letter, saying, "i think simon should now be restored to the church." we did reinstate him. and for more than a score of years since his restoration, simon has lived, so far as we can see, a true christian life. for nearly all that time he has been a ruling elder in the church, and for ten years past a licensed exhorter. we decided almost immediately to rebuild our burnt houses, and as soon as we had taken care of the potatoes in the cellars, that were not too much injured, we set about getting out timbers. it was a slow process to saw boards and timbers with the whip-saw, but up to this time this had been our only way of making material for building. this work had been pushed on so well that when, by the first of june, secretary s. b. treat, of the mission house in boston, made us a visit, we had gotten out material for the frame of our house. his visit, at this time, was exceedingly gratifying and helpful to us all. it was good to counsel with such a sagacious, true, thoughtful, christian counsellor as mr. treat. the whole line of mission work was carefully reviewed. the result was that we gave up our plan of rebuilding at lac-qui-parle and sought a new place. the reasons for this were: first, we had from the beginning been widely separated in our work, spreading out our labors and attempting to cultivate as much of the field as possible. this had obviously had its disadvantages. we were too far apart to cheer and help each other. now, when we were reduced to two families, mr. treat advised concentrating our forces. that was in accordance with our own inclinations. and, secondly, the yellow medicine had been made the headquarters of the indian agency for the four thousand upper indians. the drift was down toward that point. it was found that we could take with us almost all the christian part of our community. the idea was to commence a settlement of the civilized and christianized dakotas, at some point within convenient distance from the agency, to receive the help which the government had by treaty pledged itself to give. and so we got on our horses and rode down to dr. williamson's, twenty-five or thirty miles; and mr. treat and dr. williamson and miss spooner and mary and i rode over the country above pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze, which was selected as the site for the new station, afterward called hazelwood. at dr. williamson's, we had a memorable meeting, at which mr. treat told our dakota church members of a visit he had made to the choctaws and cherokees. we also had consultations on various matters; among which was that of getting out a new dakota hymn-book, which should contain the music as well as the hymns. a new departure was thus inaugurated in our mission work, and, in after years, time was often counted from this visit of secretary treat. the building materials we had prepared at lac-qui-parle were partly hauled by land and partly floated down the river; and by the month of september our house was so far finished that we removed the family down. also, we had erected a small frame which served for various purposes, as school-room and dwelling. but, while the work was progressing, mary had quite a sudden and severe attack of sickness. it was nearly sundown when the messenger arrived, and dr. williamson and i had a night ride over the prairie. the shadows looked weird and ghostly--perhaps tinged by the mental state of the beholder. at midnight we reached the sufferer, who was, by wise doctoring and skilful nursing, restored in a week.... the dakotas entered at once into the idea of the new settlement; and no sooner had we selected the spot for our building and set a breaking-plough to work in making a mission field, than they were at work in the same line. the desirable places were soon selected, and log cabins went up, the most of which were replaced by frame buildings or brick within a year or two. the frames were put up by themselves, with the assistance we could give them,--the brick houses were built by the government. we had been long enough schooling ourselves in the use of the whip-saw. that was one of the processes of labor that, years before, i had determined not to learn. i had acquired some skill in the use of the broadaxe, and rather liked it. i had applied my knowledge of mathematics in various ways to the work of framing houses, and it became a pleasure. but i thought i should avoid the whip-saw. the time, however, came when i needed a sawyer greatly, and could obtain none, and so took hold myself. but now we decided that it would be more economical to make boards by horse and ox power than by man power alone; and so the committee at boston authorized the purchase of a small circular saw-mill. this proved quite a help in our civilized community. it enabled us to put up in the next season a house for a small boarding-school, and also a neat church building. this latter was erected and finished at a cost of about $ , only $ of which was mission funds. at this time the indians were receiving money annuities. it was paid them in gold, about $ for each individual. so that the men received from thirty to fifty dollars. at a propitious time i made a tea-party, which was attended by our civilized men largely, and the result was that, with some assistance from white people, they were able to raise about five hundred dollars. it was a success beyond my most sanguine expectations. we had now such a respectable community of young men, who had cut off their hair and exchanged the dress of the dakotas for that of the white man, and whose wants now were very different from the annuity dakotas generally, that we took measures to organize them into a separate band, which we called the hazelwood republic. they elected their president for two years, and other needed officers, and were, without any difficulty, recognized by the agent as a separate band. a number of these men were half-breeds, who were, by the organic law of minnesota, citizens. the constitution of the state provided that indians also might become citizens by satisfying a court of their progress in civilization. a few years after the organization of this civilized community, i took eight or ten of the men to meet the court at mankato, but, the court deciding that a knowledge of english was necessary to comply with the laws of the state, only one of my men was passed into citizenship. a part of the plan of our new community was a mission boarding-school. almost from the beginning, we had been making trial of educating dakota children in our own families. mary had a little girl given her the first fall after we came to lac-qui-parle; she was the daughter of eagle help, my bible reader; but after she had washed and dressed her up she stayed only a month, and then ran away. the messrs. pond raised one or two in their families. dr. williamson had several dakota children when at kaposia, and afterward at pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze. mr. adams had at one time a boarding-school of a half-dozen at lac-qui-parle, and we had two or three in our family. now the work was to be attempted on a larger scale. the hazelwood boarding-school was for a while cared for by miss ruth pettijohn, and afterward by mr. and mrs. h. d. cunningham. counting those in dr. williamson's family and our own, the boarding scholars amounted to twenty. this was the extent of our ambition in that line at that time. a large boarding-school demands a large outlay for buildings, as well as for its continual support. the necessities of our mission work did not then demand the outlay, nor could it have been easily obtained from the funds of the board. connected with this school, as teachers, were mrs. annie b. ackley and miss eliza huggins and isabella b. riggs. * * * * * we had reached the time, in , when it became necessary to enter upon some plan to educate our children beyond what we could give them in our indian home. three years before this, alfred had been at school in illinois, but that was only a temporary arrangement; now he was seventeen years old and prepared to enter college. mary and i often discussed the question of ways and means. it was our desire to give our children as good an education as we possessed ourselves--at least, to give them a chance of obtaining such an education. we did not feel that our position as missionaries should make this impossible, and yet how it was to be accomplished we could not see. we had neither of us any patrimony. in this respect we were on an equality. she received $ from her father's estate, and i but a little more than that, and we did not know of any rich friends to whom we could apply for aid. our salary had been small from the beginning. we entered the mission work at a time when the board was cutting down everywhere. so that we started on a salary or allowance of about $ , and for the first quarter of a century it did not materially differ from the basis of a methodist circuit rider in the west of olden times; that is, $ apiece, and $ for each child. at this time, when our family numbered eight, we had an allowance of $ . we were both close calculators, and we never ran in debt. we could live comfortably with our children at home, each doing something to carry the burdens of life. but how could we support one or more away at school? a third of the whole family allowance would not suffice to pay the expenses of one, at the most economical of our colleges or schools. to begin, the work required faith. we determined to begin, by sending alfred to knox college, at galesburg, illinois. from year to year, we were able to keep him there until he finished the course. two years after sending alfred, we sent isabella to the western female seminary, at oxford, ohio. this, however, we were enabled to do by the help which mrs. blaisdell and other christian friends of the second presbyterian church of cincinnati gave. with two away at the same time, "the barrel of meal did not waste, nor the cruse of oil fail." in various ways the lord helped us. one year our garden produced a large surplus of excellent potatoes, which the indian agent bought at a very remunerative price. from year to year our faith was strengthened. "jehovah jireh" became our motto. he stood by us and helped us in the work of education all through the _twenty-three_ years that have followed, until the last of mary's eight children has finished at the beloit high school. we have redeemed our promise and pledge made to each other. we have given, by the lord's help, each and all of our children a chance to become as good or better scholars than their father and mother were. the d of march was associated in our minds with calamity from the burning of our houses at lac-qui-parle. but two years later, or in the spring of , the d of march brought a great shadow over dr. williamson's household. smith burgess williamson was just coming up to young manhood. he was large of his age, a very manly boy. on this d of march he was engaged in hauling up firewood with an ox-team. he probably attempted to get on his loaded sled while the oxen were in motion, and, missing his step, fell under the runner. he was dragged home, a distance of some rods, and his young life was entirely crushed out. we were immediately summoned over from hazelwood. human sympathy could go but a little way toward reaching the bottom of such a trouble. it was like other sorrows that had come upon us, and we were prepared to sit down in silence with our afflicted friends, and help them think out, "it is the lord"; "i was dumb because thou didst it." the family had been already schooled in affliction, and this helped to prepare them better for the master's work. during these passing years, the educational work among the dakotas was progressing beyond what it had done previously. our boarding-school at hazelwood, in charge of h. d. cunningham, was full and doing good service. our civilized and christian community had come to desire and appreciate somewhat the education of their children. at dr. williamson's, also, several were taken into the family, and the day-school prospered. miss jane s. williamson, a maiden sister of the doctor, had come to the land of the dakotas when mary and i returned in . from the association and connection of her father's family with slavery in south carolina, she had grown up with a great interest in the colored people. she had taught colored schools in ohio, when it was very unpopular, even in a free state, to educate the blacks. when she came to the dakotas, her enthusiasm in the work of lifting up the colored race was at once transferred to the red men, and she became an indefatigable worker in their education. she often carried cakes and nuts in her pocket, and had something to give to this and that one, to draw them to her school. the present race of dakotas remember aunt jane, as we called her, or dowan dootawin, _red song woman_, as they called her, with tender interest, and many of them owe more to her than they can understand. at this time, a translation of the first part of john bunyan's pilgrim, which i had prepared, was printed by the american tract society, and at once became a popular and profitable reading-book for the dakotas. chapter x. - .--spirit lake.--massacres by inkpadoota.--the captives.--delivery of mrs. marble and miss gardner.--excitement.--inkpadoota's son killed.--united states soldiers.--major sherman.--indian councils.--great scare.--going away.--indians sent after scarlet end.--quiet restored.--children at school.--quarter-century meeting.--john p. williamson at red wood.--dedication of chapel. by the northern line of iowa, where the head-waters of the des moines come out of minnesota, is a lake, or group of lakes, called the "minne wakan," _mysterious water_, or, as the name goes, spirit lake. sometime in , this beautiful spot of earth was found and occupied by seven or eight white families, far in advance of other white settlements. in the spring of , there were in this neighborhood and at springfield, ten or fifteen miles above on the des moines, and in minnesota, nearly fifty white persons. during the latter part of that winter the snows in western iowa and minnesota were very deep, so that traveling on the prairies was attended with great difficulty. it appears that during the winter a few families of annuity sioux, belonging to the somewhat roving band of leaf shooters, had, according to their habit, made a hunting expedition down into iowa, on the little sioux. _inkpadoota_, or scarlet end, and his sons were the principal men. the deep snows made game scarce and hunting difficult, so that when, in the month of march, this party of dakotas came into the spirit lake settlement, they were in a bad humor from hunger, and attempted at once to levy blackmail upon the inhabitants. their wishes not being readily complied with, the indians proceeded to help themselves, which at once brought on a conflict with the white people, and the result was that the indians massacred almost the entire settlement, killing about forty persons and taking four women captive. some one carried the news to fort ridgely, and a company of soldiers was sent out to that part of the country, but with small prospect of finding and punishing the indians. the deep snows prevented rapid marching, and the party of scarlet end, who were still in the spirit lake country, managed to see the white soldiers, albeit the soldiers could not discover them. soon after this event, we, at the yellow medicine, heard of it by a courier who came up the minnesota. it proved to be quite as bad as represented. but nothing could be done at that season of the year, either to obtain the captives or punish the perpetrators. so the spring passed. when the snows had melted away, and the month of may had come, there came a messenger from lac-qui-parle to dr. williamson and myself, saying that _sounding heavens_ and _gray foot_, two sons of our friend _spirit walker_, had brought in one of the captive women taken by scarlet end's party, and asking us to come up and get her that she might be restored to her friends. we lost no time in going up to lac-qui-parle. at the trader's establishment, then in the keeping of _weeyooha_, the father of _nawangmane win_, who was the wife of _sounding heavens_, we found mrs. marble, rather a small but good-looking white woman, apparently not more than twenty-five years old. she was busily engaged with the aforesaid mrs. sounding heavens, in making a calico dress for herself. when i spoke to her in english, she was at first quite reserved. i asked if she wanted to return to her friends. she replied: "i am among my friends." she had indeed found friends in the two young men who had purchased her from her captors. they took her to their mother's tent who had many years before become a member of the lac-qui-parle church, and been baptized with the christian name of _rebekah_. they clothed her up in the best style of dakota women. they gave her the best they had to eat. they brought her to their planting-place, and furnished her with materials with which to dress again like a white woman. it was no wonder she said, "i am among my friends." but, after talking awhile, she concluded it would be best for her to find her white friends. she did not before understand that these dakota young men had bought her, and carefully brought her in, with the hope of being properly rewarded. _they_ were not prepared to keep her as a white woman, and really, with her six or seven weeks' experience as an indian, she would hardly care to choose that kind of life. mrs. marble's husband had been killed with those who were slain at spirit lake. her story was that four white women were reserved as captives. they were made to carry burdens and walk through the melting snow and water. when they came to the big sioux, it was very full. the indians cut down a tree, and the white women were expected to walk across on that. one of the woman fell off, and her captor shot her in the water. her fellow-captives thought she was better off dead than alive. when mrs. marble was rescued from her captors, two others still lived, mrs. nobles and miss abbie gardner. the indians were then west of the big sioux, in the valley of the james or dakota river. we took mrs. marble down, accompanied by _sounding heavens_, _gray foot_, and their father, _wakanmane_. she remained a few days at our mission home at hazelwood, and in the meantime major flandreau, who was then indian agent, paid the young men $ in gold, and gave them a promissory note for the like amount. this was a very creditable reward. but what was most important to be done, just then, was to rescue the other two women, if possible. we had dakota men whom we could trust on such a mission better than we could trust ourselves. there was paul mazakootamane, the president of the hazelwood republic. white people said he was lazy. there was truth in that. he did not like to work. but he was a real diplomatist. he could talk well, and he was skilled in managing indians. for such a work there was no better man than he. then, there was john otherday, the white man's friend. he could not talk like paul; but he had rare executive ability, and he was a fearless fellow. there was no better second man than he. for the third man we secured mr. grass. these three we selected, and the agent sent them to treat for miss gardner and mrs. nobles. they took with them an extra horse and a lot of goods. in about three weeks they returned, but only brought miss gardner. mrs. nobles had been killed before they reached scarlet end's camp. as a consequence of this spirit lake trouble, we lived in a state of excitement all the summer. at one time the report came that inkpadoota's sons, one or more of them, had ventured into the yellow medicine settlement. news was at once taken to agent flandreau, who came up with a squad of soldiers from fort ridgely, and, with the help of john otherday and enos good hail, and others, this son of a murderer was killed, and his wife taken prisoner. the excitement was very great, for scarlet end's family had friends among white lodge's people at the yellow medicine. then came up maj. t. w. sherman with his battery. the spirit lake murderers must be punished, but the orders from washington were that the annuity indians must do it. to persuade them to undertake this was not an easy task. it is very doubtful whether the plan was a wise one. there were too many dakotas who sympathized with inkpadoota. this appeared in the daring of a young dakota, who went into major sherman's camp and stabbed a soldier. he was immediately taken up and placed under guard, but it was a new element in the complication. council after council was held. little crow, and the chiefs and people generally of red wood, were at the yellow medicine. the indians said to superintendent cullen and major sherman, "we want you to punish inkpadoota; we can't do it." but they were told that the great father required _them_ to do it, as a condition of receiving their annuities. in the meantime, several hundred yanktonais sioux came over from the james river, who had complaints of their own against the government. one day there was a grand council in progress, just outside of major sherman's camp. the dakota who stabbed the white soldier managed to get his manacles partly off, and ran for the council. the guard fired, and wounded him in the feet and ankles, some shots passing into the council circle. from the indian side guns were fired, and the white people fled to the soldiers' camp, the dakota prisoner being taken into the keeping of his friends. for a while it was uncertain whether we were to have war or peace. the hundreds of sioux teepees, which covered the prairie between dr. williamson's place and the agency, were suddenly taken down, and the whole camp was in motion. this looked like war. dr. williamson asked for a guard of soldiers. the request could not be granted. the doctor and his folks, they said, could come to the soldiers' camp. but in an hour or two, when the good doctor saw the teepees going up again, a couple of miles off, he was content to remain without a guard--there would not be war just then. the dakota prisoner could have been reclaimed, but it was thought best to let him go, as the white soldier was getting well. that evening, when i returned home from the council, i found aunt ruth pettijohn and our children in a state of alarm. mary had gone down below on a visit. the sioux camp was all around us, and we were five miles away from the soldiers' camp. what might take place within a few days we could not tell. it seemed as if the nervous strain would be less if they could go away for awhile. and so the next morning we put our house in the charge of simon, and we all started down to the lower sioux agency. we had no settled plan, and when we learned that matters were being arranged, we were at once ready to return, having met mary with a company of friends, who were on their way up to the mission. alfred was coming home to spend his vacation, and had brought with him a college friend; and mrs. wilson, a sister of dr. williamson, and her daughter, sophronia, and miss maggie voris were come to make a visit. when we reached home, the yanktonais had departed, and little crow, with a hundred dakota braves, was starting out to seek inkpadoota and his band. they came upon them by a lake, and the attack was reported as made in the night, in the reeds and water. afterward, when in washington, little crow claimed to have killed a dozen or more, but the claim was regarded by the indians as untrue. the campaign being over, the indians returned and received their annuities, and thus was the spirit lake affair passed over. there was no sufficient punishment inflicted. there was no fear of the white soldiers imparted; perhaps rather a contempt for the power of the government was the result in the minds of white lodge and other sympathizers with inkpadoota. and even little crow and the lower sioux were educated thereby for the outbreak of five years later. isabella burgess had been two years in the western female seminary, at oxford, ohio, and alfred longley was completing his academical course at knox college. isabella came to see him graduate, and then together they started for their indian home in minnesota. it was about the first of july, , and at midnight, when the steamboat on which they were traveling, having landed at red wing and discharged some freight, and pushed out again into the river, was found to be on fire. the alarm was given, and the passengers waked up, and the boat immediately turned again to the landing; but the fire, having caught in some cotton bales on the front deck, spread so rapidly that it was with difficulty the passengers made their escape, the greater part of them only in their night-dress. their baggage was all lost. but the good people of red wing cared for the sufferers, and started them homeward, with such clothing as could be furnished. of the catastrophe we knew nothing, until i met the children at st. peter, whither they came by steamboat. this, and what had gone before, gave us something of a reputation of being a _fiery_ family, and the impression was increased somewhat when, nearly two years later, martha taylor, in her second year at oxford, escaped by night from the burning seminary building. after alfred's return, in the summer of , he spent a year at hazelwood, in teaching a government school, and then joined the theological seminary at chicago. in the summer of , the absent ones were all at home. during the six years we had been at hazelwood, two other children had been given us, robert baird and mary cornelia octavia, which made a very respectable little flock of _eight_. _twenty-five_ years had passed since dr. williamson came to the dakotas. many changes had taken place. it was fitting that the two families which remained should, in some proper way, put up a quarter-century milestone. and so we arranged an out-door gathering, at which we had food for the body and food for the mind. among other papers read at this time was one which i prepared with some care, giving a short biographical sketch of all the persons who up to that time had been connected with the dakota mission; a copy of which was afterward placed in the library of the historical society of minnesota. * * * * * ever since the removal of the lower indians up to their reservation, there had been several members of dr. williamson's church at kaposia, living near the red wood agency. they would form a very good nucleus of a church, and make a good beginning for a new station. this had been in our thought for several years, but only when, in , john p. williamson finished his theological studies at lane seminary, had we the ability to take possession of that part of the field. while we waited, bishop whipple came up and opened a mission, placing there s. d. hinman. still, it was thought advisable to carry out our original plan, and, accordingly, young mr. williamson took up his abode there, organized a church of ten or twelve members, and proceeded to erect a chapel. in the last days of the year , i went down, by invitation, to assist in the dedication of the new church. that journey, both going and returning, was my sorest experience of winter travel, but it helped to start forward this new church organization, which was commencing very auspiciously. mr. williamson had his arrangements all made to erect a dwelling-house early in the next season. and when the outbreak took place in august, , as providence would have it, he had gone to ohio, as we all supposed, to consummate an engagement which he had made while in the seminary. chapter xi. - .--republican administration.--its mistakes.--changing annuities.--results.--returning from general assembly.--a marriage in st. paul.--d. wilson moore and wife.--delayed payment.--difficulty with the sissetons.--peace again.--recruiting for the southern war.--seventeenth of august, .--the outbreak.--remembering christ's death.--massacres commenced.--capt. marsh's company.--our flight.--reasons therefor.--escape to an island.--final leaving.--a wounded man.--traveling on the prairie.--wet night.--taking a picture.--change of plan.--night travel.--going around fort ridgely.--night scares.--safe passage.--four men killed.--the lord leads us.--sabbath.--reaching the settlements.--mary at st. anthony. when president lincoln's administration commenced, we were glad to welcome a change of indian agents. but, after a little trial, we found that a republican administration was quite as likely to make mistakes in the management of indians as a democratic one. hardly had the new order of things been inaugurated, in , when superintendent clark w. thompson announced to the sioux gathered at yellow medicine that the great father was going to make them all very glad. they had received their annuities for that year, but were told that the government would give them a further bounty in the autumn. at one of thompson's councils, paul made one of his most telling speeches. he presented many grievances, which the new administration promised to redress. but when the superintendent was asked where this additional gift came from, he could not tell--only it was to be great, and would make them very glad. by such words, the four thousand upper sioux were encouraged to expect great things. accordingly, the sissetons from lake traverse came down in the autumn, when the promised goods should have been there, but low water in the minnesota and mississippi delayed their arrival. the indians waited, and had to be fed by agent galbraith. and when the goods came the deep snows had come also, and the season for hunting was past. moreover, the great gift was only $ , worth of goods, or $ . apiece! while they had waited many of the men could have earned from $ to $ by hunting. it was a terrible mistake of the government at washington. the result was that of the upper sioux the agent was obliged to feed more than a thousand persons all winter. the lower sioux were suspicious of the matter, and refused to receive their ten thousand dollars' worth of goods until they could know whence it came. by and by the democrats in the country learned that the administration had determined on changing the money annuity into goods, and had actually commenced the operation, sending on the year before $ , of the $ , which would be due next summer. the knowledge of this planning of bad faith in the government greatly exasperated the annuity indians, and was undoubtedly the primal cause which brought on the outbreak of the next summer. men who were opposed to the republican administration and the southern war had now a grand opportunity to work upon the fears and the hopes of the indians, and make them badly affected toward the government. and they seemed to have carried it a little too far, so that when the conflict came it was most disastrous for them. as the summer of came on, the washington government recognized their mistake, and sought to rectify it by replacing the $ , which had been taken from the money of the july payment. but to do this they were obliged to await a new appropriation, and this delayed the bringing on of the money full six weeks beyond the regular time of payment. if the money had been on hand the first of july, instead of reaching fort ridgely after the outbreak commenced, one can not say but that the sioux war would have been prevented. about the first of july, i returned from ohio, whither i had been to attend the general assembly in cincinnati, and to bring home martha taylor, who had just completed the course at college hill. after the fire at oxford, she had accepted rev. f. y. vail's invitation to go to his institution near cincinnati. there she remained until the end of the year. then isabella and anna went on--the latter going to mr. vail's seminary, and the former attending the senior class of the western female seminary, under a special arrangement, before the seminary was rebuilt. so that now both the older girls had completed the course. on our return this time, we had with us marion robertson, a young woman with a little dakota blood, who had been spending some time in ohio, and who was affianced to a mr. hunter, a government carpenter at the lower sioux agency. by arrangement mr. hunter met us in st. paul, and i married them one evening, in the parlors of the merchant's hotel. six or seven weeks after this, mr. hunter was killed in the outbreak. at that marriage in the hotel were present d. wilson moore and his bride from fisslerville, new jersey, near philadelphia. mr. moore was of the firm of moore brothers (engaged extensively in glass-manufacturing), had just married a young bride, and they had come to minnesota on their wedding trip. we had reached home only a few days before, when, to our surprise, mr. moore and his wife drove up to our mission. they had heard that the indian payment was soon to be made, and so had come up; but, not finding accommodations at the agency, they came on to see if we would not take them in. we had a large family, but if they would be satisfied with our fare, and take care of themselves, mary would do the best she could for them. this will account for the way in which mrs. moore lost all her silk dresses. the whole four thousand indians were now gathered at the yellow medicine. the sissetons of lake traverse had hoed their corn and come down. it was the regular time for receiving their annuities, before the corn needed watching. but the annuity money had not come. the agent did not know when it would come. he had not sent for them and he could not feed them--he had barely enough provisions to keep them while the payment was being made. the truth was, he had used up the provisions on them in the previous winter. so he told them he would give them some flour and pork, and then they must go home and wait until he called them. they took the provisions, but about going home they could not see it in that way. it was a hundred miles up to their planting-place, and to trudge up there and back, with little or nothing to eat, and carry their tents and baggage and children on horse-back and on dog-back and on woman-back, was more than they cared to do. besides, there was nothing for them to eat at home. they must go out on the buffalo hunt, and then they might miss their money. and so they preferred to stay, and beg and steal, or starve. but stealing and begging furnished but a very scanty fare, and starving was not pleasant. the young men talked the matter over, and concluded that the flour and pork in the warehouse belonged to them, and there could not be much wrong in their taking it. and so one day they marched up to the storehouse with axes in hand, and battered down the door. they had commenced to carry out the flour when the lieutenant with ten soldiers turned the howitzer upon them. this led them to desist, for the dakotas were unarmed. but they were greatly enraged, and threatened to bring their guns and kill the little squad of white soldiers. and what made this seem more likely, the sioux tents were at once struck and the camp removed off several miles. agent galbraith sent up word that he wanted help. and when mr. moore and i drove down, he said, "if there is anything between the lids of the bible that will meet this case, i wish you would use it." i told him i thought there was; and advised him to call a council of the principal men and talk the thing over. whereupon i went to the tent of standing buffalo, the head chief of the sissetons, and arranged for a council that afternoon. the chiefs and braves gathered. the young men who had broken the door down were there. the indians argued that they were starving, and that the flour and pork in the warehouse had been purchased with their money. it was wrong to break in the door, but now they would authorize the agent to take of their money and repair the door. whereupon the agent agreed to give them some provisions, and insisted on their going home, which they promised to do. the sissetons left on the morrow, and so far as they were concerned the difficulty was over; for on reaching home they started on a buffalo hunt. peace and quiet now reigned at the yellow medicine. mr. moore occupied himself in shooting pigeons, and we all became quite attached to mrs. moore and himself. in the meantime an effort, was made at the agencies, among half-breeds and employés, to enlist soldiers for the southern war. quite a number were enlisted, and when the trouble came agent galbraith was below with these recruits. several strangers were in the country. it was afterward claimed that there were men here in the interests of the south. i did not see any of that class. but some photographers were there. adrian j. ebell, a student of yale college, was taking stereoscopic views, and a gentleman from st. paul also. * * * * * the th of august was the sabbath. it was sacramental sabbath at hazelwood. as our custom was, both churches came together to celebrate the lord's death. our house was well filled, and we have always remembered that sabbath as one of precious interest, for it was the last time we were to meet in that beautiful little mission chapel. a great trial of our faith and patience was coming upon us, and we knew it not. but the dear christ knew that both we and the native christians needed just such a quiet rest with him before the trials came. while we at hazelwood and pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze were thus engaged on that sabbath of august th, the outbreak was commenced in the border white settlements at acton, minn. as usual, the difficulty was commenced at a grog-shop. some four or five indians made demands which were not complied with, whereat they began to kill the whites. that night they reached the villages at the lower sioux agency, and a council of war was called. something of this kind had been meditated, and talked of, and prepared for undoubtedly. some time before this, they had formed the _tee-yo-tee-pe_, or soldiers' lodge, which is only organized on special occasions, for the hunt or for war. some negotiations were probably going on with the winnebagoes and ojibwas. but they were not perfected. several winnebagoes were at this time at the lower agency, but they do not appear to have been there for the purpose of the outbreak. in the council held that night, little crow is reported to have expressed his regret that the matter was precipitated upon them, but he yielded to the argument that their hands were now _bloody_. the attack was commenced in the early morning at the stores, mr. james w. lynd, at myrick's store, being the first white man shot down. so the ball rolled. many were killed and some escaped. word of the rising was carried to fort ridgely, and captain marsh was sent up to quell it. the indians met his company of fifty men at the ferry, and killed half of them there, the rest making their escape with difficulty. these things had been going on during the day, forty miles from us, but we knew it not. five miles below, at the yellow medicine, they had heard of it by noon. the indians gathered to consult what they would do. some, we learned, gave their voice for killing the white people, but more were in favor of only taking the goods and property. the physician at the yellow medicine was absent, and a young man started down that day with the doctor's wife and children in a buggy. before they reached red wood, they were met by two dakota men--the white man was killed and the woman and children taken captive. the sun was getting low monday evening when we at hazelwood heard of what was going on. mr. antoine renville, one of the elders of my church, came running in much excited, and said the indians were killing white people. we thought it must be only a drinking quarrel. the statement needed to be repeated and particularized somewhat before we could believe it. soon others came in and told more. blackness seemed to be gathering upon all faces. the parents came to the boarding-school and took away their children. for several years mary had kept angélique and agnes renville. at this time, the older one was in ohio, and the younger one went home with her mother. jonas pettijohn, an old associate in mission work at lac-qui-parle, had been for some years a government teacher at red iron's village, about fifteen miles above us. he had now been released, and was removing his family. mrs. pettijohn and the children had reached our house. mr. pettijohn came in the dusk of the evening with his last load, which he was bringing with my horse team. the indian men who had brought down his goods, when they heard of the _émeute_, started back immediately, and, meeting mr. pettijohn, took the horses. they justified themselves by saying that somebody would take them. thus, as the darkness came on, we became sure that our dakota friends believed the reports. in the gloaming, strange men appeared at our stables, and others of our horses were taken. a dozen of our neighbor men came, and said they would stand guard with their guns. as the evening progressed, we sent a messenger down to the yellow medicine, who brought word that the stores were surrounded by indians, and would be broken in soon. mr. givens, the sub-agent, sent up a note asking me to come down very early in the morning. some of the christian dakota women gathered into our house, and we prayed, and sang "god is the refuge of his saints." it was after midnight before we thought of leaving. the young folks had lain down and slept awhile. by and by paul came, and asked me to give him some blue cloth i had on hand--he must dress like an indian, to be safe. and they evidently began to feel that _we_ might not be safe, and that our staying would endanger them. this was made the more serious because of mrs. moore and our three grown daughters. indian men would kill us to get possession of them. thus the case was stated by our neighbors. afterward we had good reason to know that they reasoned rightly. and so we waked up the children and made preparations to depart. but it was only to be temporary. the plan was to go down to an island in the minnesota river, and remain until the danger was overpast. mr. moore looked to his revolver, the only reliable weapon among us. thomas and henry got their double-barrel shot-gun. mary put up a bag of provisions, but, unfortunately, we forgot it when we departed. fortunately again, it was brought to us in the morning by zoe, a dakota woman. each one had a little baggage, but there was not enough extra clothing in the company to make them comfortable at night. when the daylight came, we were all over on the island, but our team was left, and was stolen, with the exception of one horse. so we were in rather a helpless condition as regards further escape. on this little island we were away from the excitement and present danger; but how long it would be safe for us to remain there was quite uncertain. we could trust our own indians that we should not be personally injured; but how soon strange indians would find our hiding-place, we could not tell. during the forenoon i crossed back and went to the village, to learn the progress of events. they did not seem to be encouraging. the stores at the yellow medicine had been sacked. the white people had all left in the early morning, being convoyed by john otherday. the only safe course open to us appeared to be in getting away also. it was after midday when we learned that andrew hunter and dr. williamson's young folks had succeeded in coming away with both a horse team and an ox team. they had some flour and other provisions with them, and had driven along the doctor's cattle. moreover, they had succeeded in crossing the minnesota at a point a mile or two below where we then were. from the island we could wade over to the north side. this we proceeded to do, leaving the only trunk that had been brought this far, by mr. cunningham's sister. andrew hunter drove one of his wagons around on the prairie to meet our party as we emerged from the ravine, each carrying a little bundle. the women and children who could not walk were arranged with the bundles in the wagon. mr. cunningham was successful in getting one of his horses--the other had been appropriated by an indian, together with mine. his one horse he attached to my buggy and brought it over the river, and we proceeded to join the rest of mr. hunter's party. two or three families of government employés from the saw-mill had found their way to our missionary company. thus constituted, we started for the old crossing of hawk river, some six or eight miles distant. while we were still in sight of the river bluffs, we discovered a man coming after us. he was evidently a white man, and hobbled along with difficulty, as though he were wounded. we stopped until he overtook us. it proved to be a man by the name of orr, whose comrades had been killed up near the mouth of the chippewa, and he escaped in a crippled condition. our wagons were more than full, but we could make room for a wounded white man. about this time a rain shower came upon us, which was a godsend in many ways, although it made camping that night rather unpleasant. when night overtook us, we were across the stream,--hawk river,--and we lay down to rest and consider what should be our course on the morrow. in the morning, we had decided to cross the country, or endeavor to do so, toward hutchinson or glencoe. but the country was not familiar to us. we frequently found ourselves stopped in our course by a slough which was not easy to cross. still, we kept on our way during wednesday, and in the afternoon there fell to us four men from otherday's party. these men all had guns which were not of much account. they belonged at new ulm, and did not want to go to hutchinson. but they continued with us that day. the evening came with a slow continued rain. the first night we were out, the smaller children had cried for home. the second night, some of the older children would have cried if it had been of any use. we had no shelter. the wagons were no protection against the continued rain, but it was rather natural to crawl under them. the drop, _drop_, drop, all night long from the wagon-beds, on the women and children, who had not more than half covering in that cold august rain, was not promotive of cheerfulness. mrs. moore looked sad and disheartened, and to my question as to how she did she replied that one might as well die as live under such circumstances. thursday morning found us cold and wet, and entirely out of cooked food. since the first night we had not been where we could obtain wood. and then, and since, we should have been afraid to kindle a fire, lest the smoke should betray us. but now it was necessary that we should find wood as soon as possible. and so our course was taken toward a clump of trees which were in sight. when we came into their neighborhood, about noon, we found them entirely surrounded by water. but the men waded in and brought wood enough for the purposes of camping. there we spent the afternoon and night. there we killed one of the cows. and there we baked bread and roasted meat on the coals, having neither pot nor kettle nor pan to do it in. and while we were eating, mr. ebell fixed up his apparatus and took a very good stereoscopic picture of the party. we had discovered from surveyor's stakes that we were making slow progress, and so we decided, as we started friday morning, to abandon our plan of going to hutchinson, and turn down to the old lac-qui-parle road, which would lead us to fort ridgely. this road we reached in time to take our noon rest at birch coolie, nearly opposite the lower sioux agency, where the massacres had commenced. we were not much posted in what had taken place there. mr. hunter rode over to see his house, only a couple of miles distant. there he met tatemema (round wind), an old indian whom he knew, who told him to hurry on to the fort, as all the white people had been killed or had fled. just as we were starting from this place, a team came in sight, which proved to be dr. and mrs. williamson and aunt jane with an ox team. they had remained until wednesday morning, and thought to stay through the trouble, but finally concluded it was best to leave and follow us. our company now numbered over forty, but it was a very defenceless one. we were sixteen miles from fort ridgely, and our thought was to go in there under cover of the night. the darkness came on us when we were still seven or eight miles away; and then in the gloaming there appeared on a little hill-top two indians on horseback. they might bring a war-party upon us. and so we put ourselves in the best position for defence. martha and anna had generally walked with the boys. now they piled on the wagons, and the men and boys, with such weapons as we had, marched by their side. as the night came on, we began to observe lights as of burning buildings, and rockets thrown up from the garrison. what could the latter mean? we afterward learned they were signals of distress! in our one-horse buggy, mr. and mrs. hunter drove ahead of the party, and he crawled into the garrison. he found that the indians had beleaguered them, had set fire to all the out-buildings of the fort, appropriated all their stock, had been fighting all day, and had retired to the ravine as the night came on. the fort was already crowded with women and children, and scantily manned by soldiers. we could come in, they said, but our teams would be taken by the indians. they expected the attack would be renewed the next day. when mr. hunter returned, we stopped in the road and held a _hasty_ consultation, as we were in a good deal of fear that we were even now followed. we had just passed a house where the dogs alone remained to bark, which they did furiously. and just then some of the party, walking by the side of our wagons, stumbled over the dead body of a man. there was no time to lose. we decided not to go in, but to turn out and go around the fort and its beleaguering forces, if possible. the four men who had fallen to our company--three germans and an irishman--dissented. but we told them no one should leave us until we were past the danger. and, to prevent any desertion in this our hour of trial, mr. moore cocked his revolver and would shoot down the man who attempted to leave. it was ten o'clock, and the night was dark. we turned square off the road, and went up northward to seek an old ford over the little stream that runs down by the fort. the lord guided us to the right place, but while we were hunting in the willows for the old unused road, there was a cry heard so much like a human cry that we were all quite startled. we thought it was the signal of an attack by the indians. probably it was only the cry of a fox. just then dr. williamson came to me and said perhaps he had counselled wrongly, and that, if it was thought best, he was quite willing to go back to the fort. but i replied that we were now almost around it, and it would be unwise to go back. and so we traveled on over the ravine and up on the broad prairie beyond, and received no harm. our pulses began to beat less furiously as we traveled on toward three o'clock in the morning, and felt that we were out of sight and hearing of the sioux warriors. so we stopped to rest our weary cattle. some slept for an hour, but the greater part kept watch. as we were around the fort, and around the danger so far as we knew, it was understood that the four men who wanted to leave in the night, might leave us in the morning. and as it was possible they might have an opportunity to send a letter to governor ramsay before we should, dr. williamson and i attempted to write something by starlight. but nothing came of that letter. when the light began to dawn in the east, our party was aroused and moving forward. we had been guided aright in the night travel, for here we were at the old lac-qui-parle crossing of mud river. here the four men left us, and as the sun arose we saw the sheen of their guns as they were entering a little wood two or three miles away. and only a little while after that we heard the report of guns; the poor fellows had fallen in with the sioux army, which in that early morning were on their march to attack new ulm. we did not know their fate until afterward. our party now fell into the road that leads to henderson, and traveled all that saturday in safety. but on the st. peter road, five or six miles to our right, we saw the burning stacks and houses, and afterward knew that the sioux were on that road killing white people all that day. it was the middle of the afternoon when we came to a deserted house. the dishes were on the table. we found cream and butter in the cellar and potatoes and corn in the garden. we stopped and cooked and ate a good square meal, of which we were greatly in need. then we pushed on and came to another house some time after nightfall, which was deserted by the humans, but the cattle were there. here we spent the night, and would have been glad to rest the sabbath, but as yet there was too much uncertainty. three or four hours' travel, however, brought us to a cross-roads, where the whole settlement seemed to have gathered. we there learned that a company of troops had passed up, and had turned across to st. peter. this seemed to be a guarantee of safety, and so we rested the remainder of the day, gathering in the afternoon to worship him who had been and was our deliverer and guide. all the events of the week past appeared so strange. we had hardly found any time to consider them. but often the thought came to us, what will become of our quarter-century's work among the dakotas? it seemed to be lost. _we_ could see no good way out of the difficulties. as we came into the settlements, we began to learn something of the terribleness of the _émeute_, how the indians had spread terror and death all along the frontier. and still their deadly work was going on. in the dusk of the sabbath evening we talked over matters a little, as we planned to separate in the morning. some pecuniary adjustments were made, d. wilson moore being the only one who had any money. but all the party exchanged promises. in the morning of monday, dr. williamson and his part of the company started across to st. peter. there remained only mr. moore and wife, and adrian j. ebell and my family, and we had the use of an ox team to take us to shakopee. it was twelve miles to henderson. when we came to the brow of the hill above the town, we were met by several women who were strangers to us. they rushed up and grasped our hands. i asked what they knew of us. they said, "we have white hearts, and we heard you were all killed." our young folks had worn out their shoes, and their feet also, by walking through the sharp grass, and needed something to wear. when these wants were attended to, and we all had partaken of a good dinner at the hotel, we started on--mr. and mrs. moore taking the little steamboat to st. paul. when they arrived there, mr. shaw, of the merchant's hotel telegraphed back to mr. john moore of philadelphia of their arrival. he had just before received an urgent telegram, "get the bodies at any cost." on our way to shakopee we were met by our old friend s. w. pond, who had been trying for days to ascertain whether the report of our being killed was true or not. he gave mary and the children a cordial welcome to his home. they remained there a few days, and then went on to g. h. pond's, and from thence to st. anthony, where mary found an old personal friend in mrs. mckee, the wife of the pastor of the presbyterian church. they also found friends in all the good families, and soon rented a house and commenced living by themselves, the neighbors helping them to many articles which they needed. on hearing of the outbreak, alfred, who had been preaching a few months at lockport, ill., furnished himself with a revolver, and hastened up to see what could be done. but, meeting the family at shakopee, he returned to illinois without making any demonstration of prowess, taking with him anna, and, after she was somewhat recruited, sending her to rockford female seminary. chapter xii. .--general sibley's expedition.--i go as chaplain.--at fort ridgely.--the burial party.--birch coolie defeat.--simon and lorenzo bring in captives.--march to yellow medicine.--battle of wood lake.--indians flee.--camp release.--a hundred captives rescued.--amos w. huggins killed.--we send for his wife and children.--spirit walker has protected them.--martha's letter. when mary and the children had safely reached friends and civilization at mr. pond's, i was pressed in spirit with the thought that i might have some duty to perform in the indian country. at lac-qui-parle, twenty-five miles beyond our station at hazelwood, were amos w. huggins, with wife and children, and miss julia la framboise. they had been in the employ of the government as teachers at wakanmane's village. what had befallen them, we knew not; but we knew that white men had been killed between our place and lac-qui-parle. then, our native church members--they might need help. and so i took a boat at shakopee, and went down to st. paul, and offered my services to governor ramsay, in whatever capacity he chose to put me. he immediately commissioned me as chaplain to general sibley's expedition. the last day of august i was at st. peter, where i learned from mr. huggins' friends the story that he had been killed, and that his wife and children were captives. in regard to them i received a special charge from mrs. holtsclaw, and i conceived a plan of immediately sending for mrs. huggins. but circumstances made it impossible to carry out that plan for several weeks. the next day, sabbath though it was, i rode up with colonel marshall and others to fort ridgely, where general sibley's command was encamped. he was waiting for reinforcements and ammunition supplies. at the first news of the massacres, a large number of citizens had impressed their neighbors' horses, and had started for the indian country. many of them were poor riders, and they were all poorly armed. they were without military organization and drill, and were felt to be an element of weakness rather than strength. a night or two before i reached the camp, a couple of shots had been fired, supposed to have been by indians. the drum beat the "long roll," and the men that formed this "string-bean cavalry," as they were called, crawled under the wagons. the next morning many of them had had a clairvoyant communication with their families at home, and learned that their wives were sick. they were permitted to depart. three days before, a detachment of cavalry and infantry had been sent up as far as the lower sioux agency, to find and bury the dead. they had done their work, as they supposed, and crossed back to the north side of the minnesota, without seeing any indians. as the sun was setting on that sabbath evening, they ascended the hill and made their camp on the top of the birch coolie bluff. but the sioux had discovered them, and that night they were surrounded by twice their own number of the enemy. in the early morning the attack was made and kept up all day. the report of the musketry was heard at general sibley's camp, eighteen miles away, but the reverberation made by the minnesota hills placed the conflict apparently within six or eight miles. a detachment sent to their relief soon returned, because, after they had gone a short distance, they could hear nothing. but the firing still continued, and another detachment, with a howitzer, was sent, with orders to go on until the absent ones were found. the sun was low when a messenger came from the troops last sent. the indians were in such large force that they did not dare risk a conflict, and so had retired to the prairie. general sibley's whole force was then put in readiness, and we had a night march up to birch coolie. the relief detachment was reached, and an hour or two of rest obtained before the morning light. when our camp was in motion, the indians came against us and surrounded us; but, soon perceiving that the force was not what they had seen the night before, they commenced making their escape, and we marched on to the original camp. it was a sad sight--dead men and dead horses lying in the hastily dug breastworks. twelve men were found dead, whom we buried in one grave. thirty or forty were wounded, and nearly the whole of the ninety horses were lying dead. the camp had suffered greatly for want of water, as the indians had cut them off entirely from the stream. this defeat showed more clearly than before the necessity of being well prepared before an advance was made upon the hostile sioux. it also served to rouse minnesota thoroughly--a number of the killed and wounded in this battle were st. paul men. but the middle of september had come and gone before general sibley felt ready to move up the river. in the meantime, while we were still at ridgely, simon anawangmane came down by land, and brought mrs. newman and her children to our camp. and lorenzo lawrence brought in canoes mrs. de camp and children and others. mrs. newman had been taken captive by the lower sioux, and when they reached the yellow medicine, she was apparently allowed by those who had her to go where she pleased. one day she came to simon's tent, and, hearing them sing and pray, she felt like trusting herself and children rather to simon than to the others. when the camp started to go farther north, simon stayed behind, and then, placing mrs. n. and her children in his one-horse wagon, and hitching to his horse, he and his son brought them down. mrs. de camp's husband had been severely wounded in the battle of birch coolie, and had died only a couple of days before she and the children were brought in. lorenzo also brought with him a large english church bible, and my own personal copy of dakota grammar and dictionary, which i prized very highly. the st of september, or five weeks after the outbreak commenced, we were marching by the lower sioux agency and red wood, and getting an impression of what the _émeute_ had been, in occasionally finding a dead body, and seeing the ruins of the buildings. the sioux were now watching our movements closely. indeed, they had kept themselves informed of our motions all along. it was this day, at the red wood, john otherday went into a plum-orchard and left his horse a little way out. one of the hostiles who had been hidden there jumped on it and rode off. this made otherday greatly ashamed. the night of the d we camped on the margin of wood lake, within three miles of the yellow medicine. here we were to rest the next day and wait for a train that was behind. at the yellow medicine were fields of corn and potatoes, and some of our men mere anxious to add to their store of provisions. accordingly, before our breakfast was over at general sibley's tent, some soldiers in a wagon were fired upon and two of them killed by sioux concealed in a little ravine about a half a mile from our camp. this brought on the battle. almost immediately the hills around were seen to be covered with indians on foot and on horseback. the battle lasted for two or three hours. the sioux had compelled every man in their camp, which was twenty miles above, to come down, except john b. renville. they were playing their last card, and they lost. when it was over, we gathered up and buried sixteen _dead_ and _scalped_ indians, and four of our own men. besides, we had a large number of wounded soldiers. this battle made h. h. sibley a brigadier-general. thus the indians were beaten and retired. during the fight john otherday captured a dakota pony, and so made good the loss of his stolen horse. simon anawangmane was wounded in the foot in passing out to the hostile sioux and back to our camp; and the younger simon was brought in wounded, and died some days afterward. the day following this battle, our camp was removed to a point beyond the mission station at hazelwood. as i rode down to see the ruins of our buildings, some of our soldiers were emptying a _cache_ near where our house had stood. the books they threw out i found were from my own library. a part of these and some other things which were in good condition i secured. they had been buried by our friends. the next day was the th of september, when we pushed on to camp release, where the friendly dakotas were encamped. the hostiles and such as feared to remain had fled to the british possessions. the friendly indians had by some means come into the possession of almost all the captive white women and children. one of our chief objects in pursuing the campaign had been to prevent the killing of these captives. little crow had written to general sibley that he had many captives; and general sibley had replied, "i want the captives." now they came into our hands, nearly a hundred, besides half-breeds, many of whom had been in a kind of captivity. the white women had dressed up as well as they could for the occasion, but many of them only showed their white relationship by the face and hands and hair--they were dressed like indians. it was a time of gladness for us. white men stood and cried for joy. we took them all to our camp, and wrapped them up as well as we could. some of the women complained because we did not furnish women's clothing; but that was unreasonable. this was _camp release_. mr. amos w. huggins was the eldest child of alexander g. huggins, who had accompanied dr. williamson to the sioux country in . amos was born in ohio, and was at this time over thirty years old. he was married, and two children blessed their home, which, for some time before the outbreak, had been at lac-qui-parle, near where the town of that name now stands. it was then an indian village and planting place, the principal man being wakanmane,--spirit walker, or walking spirit. if the people of the village had been at home, mr. huggins and his family, which included miss julia la framboise, who was also a teacher in the employ of the government, would have been safe. but in the absence of spirit walker's people three indian men came--two of them from the lower sioux agency--and killed mr. huggins, and took from the house such things as they wanted. the women and children were left uninjured. but after they had, in a hasty manner, buried the father and husband, whither should they go for protection? at first they thought to find safety with a french and half-breed family, living across the minnesota, where our old mission-house had been. but there, for some reason, they were coldly received. soon the brother of julia la framboise came up from little crow's camp and took her down. spirit walker had now returned, and mrs. huggins took refuge in his friendly teepee, where she found a welcome, and as good a home as they could make for her and her fatherless children. spirit walker would probably have attempted to take them to the white soldiers' camp if she had been decided that that was the wisest course. but mrs. huggins was timid, and preferred rather that her dakota protector should decide which was the best way. and so it happened that when the flight took place, spirit walker's folks generally were drawn into the swirl, and mrs. h. found herself on the journey to manitoba. immediately after we had reached camp release, and had learned the state of things, i presented the matter to general sibley, whereupon, the same night, he authorized the selection of four dakota young men to be sent after mrs. huggins. robert hopkins, daniel renville, enos good hail, and makes himself red were sent on this mission, which they fulfilled as expeditiously as possible. in a few days we were gladdened by the sight of mrs. huggins and her two children, and a child of a german woman, which they also brought in. the mother was with us, and was overjoyed to find her little girl. while these things were taking place on the upper minnesota, martha, now mrs. morris, still under the inspiration of the events, was in st. anthony, writing the following letter to the cincinnati _christian herald_:-- "in fancied security we had dwelt under our own vine and fig-tree, knowing naught of the evil which was to come upon us, until the very night of the th of august, . friendly indians, who knew something of the evil intent of chiefs and braves, had given miss jane williamson hints concerning it during that day. more than that they _dared_ not tell. but few of our own indians had known much more respecting the coming storm than ourselves. when intelligence came of the bloody work which that morning's sun had looked upon, at the lower sioux agency, thirty-five miles below, our good friends came to us, and, in an agony of fear for our lives and for theirs, besought us to flee. we would certainly be killed, and they would be in danger on account of our presence. some believed, but more doubted. we had heard indian stories before; by morning light we were confident this too would prove nothing but a drunken frolic, and we would only lose our worldly possessions if we should depart. the believing ones made ready a little clothing and provision, in case of need. the principal men gathered in council. _could_ they protect us? they would _try_, at least until the morning. we sang 'god is the refuge of his saints,' commended ourselves to our father's safe-keeping, and most of us retired to rest. an hour or two passed in peaceful slumber by some--in nervous anxiety by others. "one o'clock had passed: a heavy knock at the door. our friends had learned more of the extent of the outbreak, and felt that their protection would be worse than useless. 'if you regard your own lives or ours, you must go.' to their entreaties we yielded, and made hasty preparations to depart. in a quarter of an hour we had left our homes forever. our company consisted of my father's family, mr. cunningham's, and mr. pettijohn's, and a mr. and mrs. moore from new jersey; in all twenty-one persons. mr. cunningham had charge of the hazelwood boarding-school, and mr. pettijohn, a former missionary under the american board, had been recently a government teacher, twelve miles farther up the river. he had been moving his family down that day, on their way to st. peter. as he drove my father's team along, with the last of his goods, early in the evening, he was met by two indians, who took the horses from him, and set him on an inveterately lazy horse belonging to another indian. consequently our family had but a light buggy and one horse left, which was to aid mr. cunningham's two-horse team in carrying the _all_ of the party. room was found in the conveyances for the smaller children and all the women, except my sister anna and myself. we walked with the men and boys. our indian friends guided us through the woods, the thick and tangled underbrush, the tall, rank grass drenched with dew, to the river side, where we were quickly and carefully conveyed to a wooded island, and then our guides left us. one of them, enos good-voice-hail, was in the east some three or four years since--a brave, handsome man, whose eye you could not but _trust_. our teams could not cross at that place, so they were kept for us until the morning. all the rest of that weary night we sat on the damp grass, cold and dreary, wondering what the day-dawn would bring. at length the morning came. my father and mr. cunningham paddled across the river to learn the state of affairs. we found we had neglected to bring the most of the provisions prepared, and wondered what we should do, even if permitted to go back home after a day or so spent on that island. while still talking, a woman hailed us from the opposite bank, who, as we found shortly, had brought several loaves of bread and some meat on her back, all the way from our houses. we received it as a godsend, and soon after, my father, returning, brought some more provision, which another friend had secured for us. a longer, drearier day was never passed,--its every hour seemed a day. the rain came down and drenched us. my father went back and forth from the island to a village where the friendly indians were mostly gathered, to find out what had been and what could be done. we learned that dr. williamson had sent away the most of his family, considering it his duty still to remain; that his wife and sister were with him; but the others, with a number of cattle for future need, were secreted in the woods, a mile or two below us. "by noon our houses had been rifled, and gradually the idea fixed itself upon us that we _must_ leave if possible. we made arrangements to join dr. williamson's family, and about three o'clock took up our line of march, each carrying some bundles, having left on the island the only trunk belonging to the party. for more than a mile we walked along, with difficulty keeping our footing on the side-hills, which we chose for safety. when fairly out on the bluffs, we came up with one of the two teams, in charge of mr. hunter, dr. williamson's son-in-law. the baggage being transferred from our shoulders to the wagon, the feebler ones were provided with seats, while the stronger marched on. soon we came up with the remainder of the party,--dr. williamson's family, and half a dozen persons from one of the government mills, who had cast in their lot with them. we struck out on the prairie to save ourselves if there was any chance. our march was shortly rendered unpleasant by a fiercely driving rain-storm, from the soaking effects of which we did not recover until the next day, though it had the good effect of obliterating our path. our company was increased by the arrival of a mr. orr, who had been engaged in trading among the indians, near the place mr. pettijohn had resided, and who had been shot and stabbed that morning. it seemed a marvel that he should ever have been able to walk that far, and room was immediately made for him in a wagon, though it curtailed that of others. toward night we were overtaken by mr. cunningham, bringing one of his horses and our buggy, which he had succeeded in getting hold of, and which was the only vehicle belonging to twenty-one out of the thirty-eight. night came on, and we lay down on the hard earth, with bed and covering both scant and wet, to _rest_. in the morning dawn, after our usual remembrance of him who ruleth earth and sea, we went on our way, having had but little food, as cooked provisions were scarce, and we dared not kindle a fire, for fear of attracting attention. "our day's march was slow but steady--only stopping when necessary to rest the teams; and although we considered ourselves in danger, we found it quite enjoyable, more particularly after _we_ and the _grass_ got dry, so that we could walk with ease. we had counted on having a fine night's rest in spite of our scant bed-clothing, as we were all _dry_, but we were disappointed. a slow, steady rain fall through all the long night, completely saturating almost every article of bed-clothing, and every person in the company. in that comfortless rain we drank some milk, ate a crust or two, and traveled on through the long, wet swamp grass, and the swamps themselves, in wading which two or three of us became quite accomplished. by noon of that day, which was thursday, we came to a wood, fifteen or sixteen miles east from a settlement on the river, which was about twenty miles from home. "our progress had been very slow--without any road, the grass so wet and the teams so heavily loaded. still we could not but feel that the god who had led us during these long days, would neither suffer us to perish in this prairie wilderness nor be taken by savages. at this place we stopped for the remaining half day, killed a beef, and luxuriated on meat roasted on sticks held over the fire. we also baked bread in quite a primitive style. the dough being first mixed in a bag--flour, water, and salt the only ingredients--and moulded on a box, it was made into thin cakes about the size of a hand-breadth, placed on forked sticks over the fire, to bake if possible, and to be smoked most certainly. "here our party was immortalized by a young artist--a mr. ebell--who had gone up into our region of country a few days previous to our flight, for the purpose of taking stereoscopic views. the next day we struck for the river, coming in not far from a settlement called beaver, about six miles from the lower agency. mr. hunter had formerly resided at the place, and as we had not at the time the remotest idea of the extent of the massacres, he drove in to ascertain the whereabouts of the settlers. he saw no signs of any dead bodies, but two or three indians employed in pillaging, informed him that all the people had gone to fort ridgely, and advised him to hasten there, or some other indians would kill him. when just starting on after our noon rest, some one spied a team in the distance, which soon proved to be dr. williamson's, containing himself, wife, and sister. previously, some of us fancied that we might have been unwise in fleeing, but when we saw them, we _knew we had not started too soon_. they left on tuesday evening, being assisted to depart by two of the christian indians, simon anawangmane and robert chaske, at the peril of their own lives. they said they would gladly protect them longer, but it was impossible. "after holding council, we pursued our journey with the intention of reaching fort ridgely that night; and when within nine or ten miles, mr. hunter drove on to ascertain how matters stood there. we felt ourselves in danger, but thought if we were only inside the fort walls, we would be safe. the men shouldered their arms, the daylight faded, and we marched on. in the mysteriously dim twilight, every taller clump of grass, every blacker hillock, grew into a blood-thirsty indian, just ready to leap on his foe. all at once, on the brow of the hill, appeared two horsemen gazing down upon us. _indians!_ every pulse stopped, and then throbbed on more fiercely. were those men, now galloping away, sent by a band of warriors to spy out the land, or had they seen us by accident? we could not tell. the twilight faded, and the stars shone out brightly and lovingly. as we passed along we came suddenly on a dead body, some days cold and stiff. death drew nearer, and as we marched on, we looked up to the clear heavens beyond which god dwells, and prayed him to keep us. when within a mile and a half of the fort, we met mr. hunter returning, who reported as follows: he left the buggy in his wife's charge, outside the barracks, and crawled in on his hands and knees. lieut. sheehan, commander of the post, informed him they had been fighting hard for five days; that the indians had withdrawn at seven that evening, it being then between nine and ten, and that, if not reinforced, they could hold out but little longer. some of the buildings had been burnt; they had then five hundred women and children inside, and if we _could_ go on--_go!_ we _went_, striking away out on the prairie. "several of us girls had been mostly walking for the ten miles back, but now, to give the least trouble, we climbed on the wagons wherever we might find room to hold on, and sat patiently with the rest. ah! if a night of fear and dread was ever spent, that was one. every voice was hushed except to give necessary orders; every eye swept the hills and valleys around; every ear was intensely strained for the faintest noise, expecting momentarily to hear the unearthly war-whoop, and see dusky forms with gleaming tomahawks uplifted. how past actions came back as haunting ghosts; how one's hopes of life faded away, away, and the things of earth seemed so little and mean compared to the glorious heaven beyond! and yet life was so sweet, so dear, and though it be a glorious heaven, this was such a hard way to go to it, by the tomahawk and scalping-knife! oh, god! _our_ god! _must_ it be? then came something of resignation to death itself, but such a sore shrinking from the dishonor which is _worse_ than death; and we could not but wonder whether it would be a greater sin to take one's life than thus to suffer. so the night wore on until two hours past midnight, when, compelled by exhaustion, we stopped. some slept heavily, forgetful of the danger past and present, while others sat or stood, inwardly fiercely nervous and excited, but outwardly calm and still. two hours passed; the weary sleepers were awakened by the weary watchers, and as quietly as possible the march was renewed. it was kept up until about nine in the day, when we struck the fort ridgely and henderson road. "having traveled thus far without being pursued, we felt ourselves comparatively safe. i am sure there was not one who did not in heart join in the song and prayer of thanksgiving which went up from that lone prairie land, however much we may have forgotten or murmured since. 'jehovah hath triumphed; his people are free, are _free_,' seemed to ring through the air. as we pursued our journey, we noticed dense columns of smoke springing up along the river with about the same rapidity we traveled, which we afterwards learned were grain-stacks fired by indians. we rested for the night near a house, some fifteen miles from henderson, from which the people had fled. here we felt safe; but subsequently learned that we were not more than five or six miles from the norwegian grove, where that same day a party of warriors had done their bloody work. surely, _god led us and watched over us_. "the next day being the sabbath, we went on only as far as we deemed necessary for perfect safety. toward evening my father held divine service, which was almost the only outward reminder that it was the lord's day. people coming and going--bustle here, there, and everywhere--so different from our last quiet sabbath at home, the last time we and our dear indians gathered together around the table of our lord, and perhaps the last time we ever shall, until we meet in the kingdom. the next morning our party separated, our family, with mr. and mrs. moore, mrs. williamson and second daughter, and two or three others, continuing on the henderson road, and the rest striking across to st. peter, where dr. williamson has found abundant work in the hospitals. near there his family expect to remain during the winter. "we arrived that afternoon in henderson, a town a hundred miles from home, and we had been a week on the way. 'why, i thought you were all killed!' was the first greeting of every one. a shoe store was hunted up before we proceeded to shakopee, having first bidden a godspeed to our friends, mr. and mrs. moore. by this time some of us 'young folks' had acquired such a liking for walking that we consider it superior to any other mode of locomotion to this day; and if it had not been that we were so ragged and dirty and foot-sore, we should have preferred to continue our journey. during that week our ideas of paradise grew very limited, being comprised in having an abundance of water, some clean clothes, plenty to eat, and a nice bed to sleep in. "since our entering shakopee, we have visited among kind friends, until two weeks since, when we endeavored to set up house-keeping in this town of st. anthony. notwithstanding the kindness of friends and strangers, we, in common with others, find it difficult to do _something_ with _nothing_, especially as my father is with the expedition against the indians. it cannot but be that we should look back lovingly to the homes we have left, which are all, even 'our holy and beautiful house,' wherein we have worshiped, destroyed by fire; but i trust that we all endeavor to 'take joyfully the spoiling of our goods.' 'we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of god.' among our many causes for thankfulness, one is suggested by the verse 'pray ye that your flight be not in the winter.' another cause is that there was so little loss of life among those connected with the mission. we mourn for our dear friend, mr. amos huggins, son of a former missionary, and government teacher at lac-qui-parle. his young wife and two small children were, at last accounts, in the hands of the indians, as also miss julia la framboise, an assistant teacher who resided in their family. because of the influential relatives miss la framboise has among the dakotas, we hope for her, while for mrs. huggins we can only _pray_. "it was not my intention, when i began this article, to enter at all into the causes of this outbreak; but what i have written will excite your indignation against all dakotas, and i cannot bear that it should be so. it must be remembered that the _church members_, as a whole, have had _no hand in it_. one, john otherday, guided a party of sixty-two across the prairies. two others, lorenzo lawrence and simon anawangmane, have recently brought into fort ridgely three captive women and eleven children; and we doubt not that others will also 'let _their_ light shine'--_at the peril of their lives_, remember. "the indians have not been without excuse for their evil deeds. our own people have given them intoxicating drinks, taught them to swear, violated the rights of womanhood among them, robbed them of their dues, and then insulted them! what more would be necessary to cause one nation to rise against another? what _more_? i ask. and yet there are many who curse this people, and cry 'exterminate the fiends.' _dare_ we, as a nation, _thus_ bring a curse upon ourselves and on future generations? "martha t. riggs." chapter xiii. - .--military commission.--excited community.--dakotas condemned.--moving camp.--the campaign closed.--findings sent to the president.--reaching my home in st. anthony.--distributing alms on the frontier.--recalled to mankato.--the executions.--thirty-eight hanged.--difficulty of avoiding mistakes.--round wind.--confessions.--the next sabbath's service.--dr. williamson's work.--learning to read.--the spiritual awakening.--the way it came.--mr. pond invited up.--baptisms in the prison.--the lord's supper.--the camp at snelling.--a like work of grace.--john p. williamson.--scenes in the garret.--one hundred adults baptized.--marvelous in our eyes. no sooner had the white captives been brought over to our camp than, from various sources, we began to hear of indian men who had maltreated these white women, or in some way had been engaged in the massacres of the border. on the morrow, general sibley requested me to act as the medium of communication between these women and himself, inviting them to make known any acts of cruelty or wrong which they had suffered at the hands of dakota men during their captivity. the result of this inquiry was the apprehension of several men who were still in the sioux camp, and the organization of a military commission, composed of officers, to try such cases. naturally, we supposed that men who knew themselves guilty would have fled to manitoba with little crow. the greater number of such men had undoubtedly gone. but some were found remaining who had participated in individual murders, some who had abused white women, and more who had been mixed up in the various raids made upon the white settlements. when the wheels of this military commission were once put in motion, they rolled on as the victims were multiplied. besides those who remained in the camp when the flight took place, and supposed that clemency would be meted out to them, several small parties of sioux who had fled were pursued by our troops and "gobbled up," as the camp phrase was. in all such cases the grown men were placed in confinement to await the ordeal of a trial. the revelations of the white women caused great indignation among our soldiers, to which must be added the outside pressure coming to our camp in letters from all parts of minnesota,--a wail and a howl,--in many cases demanding the execution of every indian coming into our hands. the result of these combined influences was that in a few weeks, instead of taking individuals for trial, against whom some specific charge could be brought, the plan was adopted to subject all the grown men, with a few exceptions, to an investigation of the commission, trusting that the innocent could make their innocency appear. this was a thing not possible in the case of the majority--especially as conviction was based upon an admission of being present at the battles of fort ridgely, new ulm, hutchinson, and birch coolie. almost all the dakota men had been at one or more of those places, and had carried their guns and used them. so that, of nearly four hundred cases which came before the commission, only about fifty were cleared, twenty were sentenced to imprisonment, and more than three hundred were condemned to be hanged. the greater part of these were condemned on general principles, without any specific charges proved, such as under less exciting and excited conditions of society would have been demanded. they were sioux indians, and belonged to the bands that had engaged in the rebellion. among those who were condemned to be hanged was a negro called gusso. by the testimony of indians, through fear or a liking to the business, he had rather signalized himself by the killing of white people. but he talked french, and could give what appeared to be accurate and reliable information in regard to a great many of the dakotas who were brought before the commission. in consequence of this service, the commission recommended that his capital punishment be changed to imprisonment. more than a month passed before the court had finished its work. in the meantime, we had changed our camp to the lower sioux agency. from this point the women and children of the imprisoned men, together with such men as had escaped suspicion, were sent down under a military guard to fort snelling, where they, being about fifteen hundred souls, were kept through the winter. at the close of their work, the military commission turned over their findings and condemnations to general sibley for his approval. during the few days in which these passed under review, the principles on which the condemnations were based were often under discussion. many of them had no good foundation. and they were only justified by the considerations that they would be reviewed by a more disinterested authority, and that the condemnations were demanded by the people of minnesota. general sibley pardoned one man because he was a near relative of john otherday, who had done so much for white people. the campaign was now closed. the work of the military commission was completed. it remained now to go into winter-quarters, to guard the prisoners, and to await such orders as should come from the president. it was november when the camp was removed from the lower sioux agency to mankato. on our way thither we must needs pass by or through new ulm. as we approached that place, with manacled sioux, carried in wagons, and guarded by lines of infantry and cavalry, the people came out and made an insane attack upon the prisoners. general sibley thought it best to yield so far to the wishes of the germans as to pass outside of the town. on our reaching mankato, i was released from further service in the camp, and sent down to carry the condemnations to the military headquarters at st. paul. at midnight the stage reached minneapolis. my own family were across the river, living in a hired house in st. anthony. i had received very particular information as to how i should find the place, and went directly there; but, as no answer was made to my knocking, i went back to the church to see if i could have made a mistake. after trying in other directions, i aroused rev. mr. sercombe, who insisted on going with me to the place where i had stood knocking. mary and the children were comfortably housed. mrs. sophronia mckee, the wife of the presbyterian clergyman, had been a fellow-townswoman and special friend of mary in their younger years. this was a guarantee of help in this time of need. they found friends. donations of little things to help them commence housekeeping came in from interested hearts. friends farther away sent boxes of clothing and in some cases money; so that after more than two months i found them in comfortable circumstances. all along the line of the frontier, where the sioux raids had been made, were many families who had returned to desolated homes. many persons all over the country took a deep interest in this class of sufferers, and money contributions were made for their relief. the friends in indiana and elsewhere had placed their contributions in the hands of friend w. w. wales of st. anthony. here was a service in which i could engage, and find relief from the strain of the campaign and the condemnations. accordingly, i undertook to hunt up needy families in the neighborhood of glencoe and hutchinson, and to dispense a few hundred dollars of this benevolent fund. one day, as i was traveling in my one-horse buggy over the snow between glencoe and hutchinson, i was overtaken by a messenger from general sibley, asking me to report to colonel miller, who was in command of the prison at mankato, to be present and give assistance at the time of the executions. as a matter of duty, i obeyed. from my youth up, it had been a determination of mine never to go to see a fellow-being hanged. no curiosity could have taken me. rather would i have gone the other way. but, if i could be of service to indian or white man, in preventing mistakes and furthering the ends of justice and righteousness, my own feelings should be held in abeyance and made to work in the line of duty. on receiving the papers transmitted from the military commission, president lincoln had placed them in the hands of impartial men, with instructions to report the cases which, according to the testimony, were convicted of participation in individual murders or in violating white women. acting under these instructions, thirty-nine cases were reported, and these were ordered by the president to be executed. but among so many it was a matter of much difficulty to identify all the cases. among the condemned there were several persons of the same name--three or four _chaskays_, two or three _washechoons_. in the findings of the commission they were all numbered, and the order for the executions was given in accordance with these numbers. but no one could remember which number attached to which person. the only certain way of avoiding mistakes was by examining closely the individual charges. to joseph r. brown, who better than any other man knew all these condemned men,--and he did not recognize all perfectly,--was mainly committed the work of selecting those who were named to be executed. extraordinary care was meant to be used; but after it was all over, when we came to compare their own stories and confessions, made a day or two before their death, with the papers of condemnation, the conviction was forced upon us that two mistakes had occurred. the separation was effected on monday morning, the men to be executed being taken from the log jail, in which all were confined, to an adjoining stone building, where they were additionally secured by being chained to the floor. colonel miller then informed them of the order of the president that they should be hanged on the thursday following, and they were advised to prepare themselves for that event. they were at liberty to select such spiritual counsel as they desired. dr. williamson was there as a protestant minister, and father ravaux of st. paul as a catholic priest. they were advised not to select me, as i was acting interpreter for the government. more than three-fourths of the whole number selected mr. ravaux. this was accounted for by the fact that one of the campbells, a half-breed and a roman catholic, was of the number. some days before this, dr. williamson had baptized _round wind_, who was reprieved by an order from the president, which came only a day or so before the executions, reducing the number to thirty-eight. of this man _round wind_ it is sufficient to say that he was condemned on the testimony of a german boy, who affirmed that he was the man who killed his mother. but it was afterward shown, by abundance of testimony, that _round wind_ was not there. as the time of their death approached, they manifested a desire, each one, to say some things to their dakota friends, and also to the white people. i acceded to their request, and spent a whole day with them, writing down such things as they wished to say. many of them, the most of them, took occasion to affirm their innocence of the charges laid against them of killing individuals. but they admitted, and said of their own accord, that so many white people had been killed by the dakotas that public and general justice required the death of some in return. this admission was in the line of their education. perhaps it is not too much to call it an instinct of humanity. the executions took place. arrangements were made by which _thirty-eight_ dakota men were suspended in mid-air by the cutting of one rope. the other prisoners, through crevices in the walls of their log prison-house, saw them hanged. and they were deeply affected by it, albeit they did not show their feelings as white men would have done under like circumstances. at the close of the week, dr. williamson, finding himself quite worn out with abundant labors, returned to st. peter to rest in his family. the sabbath morning came. the night before, a fresh snow had fallen nearly a foot deep. colonel miller thought it was only humane to let the prisoners go out into the yard on that day, to breathe the fresh air. and so it was we gathered in the middle of that enclosure, and all that company of chained men stood while we sang hymns and prayed and talked of god's plan of saving men from death. to say that they listened with attention and interest would not convey the whole truth. evidently, their fears were thoroughly aroused, and they were eager to find out some way by which the death they apprehended could be averted. this was their attitude. it was a good time to talk to them of sin--to tell them of their sins. it was a good time to unfold to them god's plan of saving from sin--to tell them god's own son, jesus christ our lord, died to save them from their sins, if they would only believe. a marvelous work of grace was already commencing in the prison. the next day after the sabbath i left mankato, and returned to my family in st. anthony, where i spent the remaining part of the winter, partly in preparing school-books, for which there arose a sudden demand, and all we had on hands were destroyed in the outbreak; and partly in helping on the spiritual and educational work in the camp at fort snelling. but dr. williamson, living as he did in st. peter, gave his time during the winter to teaching and preaching to the men in the prison. immediately on their reaching mankato, he and his sister came up to visit them, and were glad to find them ready to listen. the prisoners asked for books. only two copies of the new testament and two or three copies of the dakota hymn-book were found in prison. some of each were obtained elsewhere, and afterward furnished them, but not nearly as many as they needed. some slates and pencils and writing-paper were provided for them. and still later in the winter some dakota books were given them. from this time on the prison became a school, and continued to be such all through their imprisonment. they were all exceedingly anxious to learn. and the more their minds were turned toward god and his word, the more interested they became in learning to read and write. in their minds, books and the religion we preached went together. soon after this first visit of dr. williamson, they began to sing and pray publicly, every morning and evening; which they continued to do all the while they were in prison. this they commenced of their own accord. at first the prayers were made only by those who had been church members, and who were accustomed to pray; but others soon came forward and did the same. before the executions, robert hopkins, who was, at that time, the leader in all that pertained to worship, handed to dr. williamson the names of thirty men who had then led in public prayer. and not very long after, sixty more names were added to the list of praying ones. this was regarded by themselves very much in the light of making a profession of religion. in a few weeks a deep and abiding concern for themselves was manifest. here were hundreds of men who had all their life refused to listen to the gospel. they now wanted to hear it. there was a like number of men who had refused to learn to read. now almost all were eager to learn. and along with this wonderful awakening on the subject of education sprang up the more marvelous one of their seeking after god--some god. their own gods had failed them signally, as was manifest by their present condition. their conjurers, their medicine-men, their makers of _wakan_, were nonplussed. even the women taunted them by saying, "you boasted great power as _wakan_ men; where is it now?" these barriers, which had been impregnable and impenetrable in the past, were suddenly broken down. their ancestral religion had departed. they were unwilling now, in their distresses, to be without god--without hope, without faith in something or some one. their hearts were aching after some spiritual revelation. then, if human judgment resulted in what they had seen and realized, what would be the results of god's judgment? if sin against _white men_ brought _such death_, what death might come to them by reason of sin, from the great wakan? there was such a thing as sin, and there was such a person as christ, god's son, who is a saviour from sin. these impressions were made by the preaching of the word. these impressions became convictions. the work of god's spirit had now commenced among them, and it was continued all winter, "deep and powerful, but very quiet," as one wrote. some of these men, in their younger days, had heard the messrs. pond talk of the white man's religion. they were desirous now, in their trouble, to hear from their old friends, whose counsel they had so long rejected. to this request, mr. g. h. pond responded, and spent some days in the prison, assisting dr. williamson. rev. mr. hicks, pastor of the presbyterian church in mankato, was also taken into their counsels and gave them aid. for several weeks previous, many men had been wishing to be baptized, and thus recognized as believers in the lord jesus christ. this number increased from day to day, until about three hundred--just how many could not afterward be ascertained--stood up and were baptized into the name of the father, of the son, and of the holy ghost. the circumstances were peculiar, the whole movement was marvelous, it was like a "nation born in a day." the brethren desired to be divinely guided; and, after many years of testing have elapsed, we all say that was a genuine work of god's holy spirit. several weeks after the events above described, in the month of march, i went up to mankato and spent two sabbaths with the men in prison; and while there labored to establish them in their new faith, and at the close of my visit, by the request of dr. williamson, i administered to these new converts the lord's supper. _robert hopkins_ and _peter big fire_ had both been prominent members and elders in dr. williamson's church at pay-zhe-hoo-ta-ze. naturally they, with others who were soon brought to the front, became the leaders and exponents of christian faith among the prisoners. this first communion in the prison made a deep impression upon myself. it began to throw light upon the perplexing questions that had started in my own mind, as to the moral meaning of the outbreak. god's thought of it was not my thought. as the heavens were higher than the earth, so his thoughts were higher than mine. i accepted the present interpretation of the events, and thanked god and took courage. the indians had not meant it so. in their thought and determination, the outbreak was the culmination of their hatred of christianity. but god, who sits on the throne, had made it result in their submission to him. this was marvelous in our eyes. while these events were transpiring in the prison at mankato, a very similar work went on in the camp at fort snelling. the conditions in both places were a good deal alike. in the camp as well as in the prison they were in trouble and perplexity. in their distresses they were disposed to call upon the lord. many of our church members, both men and women, were in the camp. there were _paul_, and _simon_, and _antoine renville_, the elders of the hazelwood church, and _joseph napayshne_ of the lower sioux agency. but the outlook was as dark to them as it was to us. mr. j. p. williamson thus describes the state of the camp in the closing days of :-- "the _suspense_ was terrible. the ignorant women had not seen much of the world, and didn't know anything about law. they, however, knew that their husbands and sons had been murdering the whites, and were now in prison therefor, and they themselves dependent for life on the mercy of the whites. the ever-present query was, what will become of us, and especially of the men? with inquisitive eyes they were always watching the soldiers and other whites who visited them, for an answer, but the curses and threats they received were little understood, except that they meant no good. with what imploring looks have we been besought to tell them their fate. strange reports were constantly being whispered around the camp. now, the men were all to be executed, of whom the thirty-eight hanged at mankato was the first installment, and the women and children scattered and made slaves; now, they were all to be taken to a rocky barren island somewhere, and left with nothing but fish for a support; and, again, they were to be taken away down south, where it was so hot they would all die of fever and ague." rev. john p. williamson, having been providentially absent in ohio at the time of the outbreak, returned to accompany this camp of despised and hated dakotas in their journey from the lower sioux agency to fort snelling. but it did not immediately appear what he could do for them. he and i were in much the same condition, looking around for other work. he says of himself that at this time he "made some effort to secure a place as stated supply in the neighborhood of st. paul or minneapolis, but was unsuccessful; and then he felt such drawing toward the indian camp that he took the nearest available quarters, and spent the winter ministering temporally and spiritually to this afflicted people." when, in the spring following, they were taken down the mississippi and up the missouri to crow creek, he did not forsake them, but stayed by them in evil and in good report, with the devotion of a lover. everywhere, and at all times his thoroughly honest, devoted, and unselfish course commanded the respect and confidence of white men in and out of the army. and his self-abandonment to the temporal and spiritual good of the families of the men in prison begot in them such admiration and confidence that scarcely a prayer was made by them, in all those four years of their imprisonment, without the petition that god would remember and bless "the one who is called john." the camp at snelling was on the low ground near the river, where the steamboats were accustomed to land. a high board fence was made around two or three acres of ground, inside of which the dakotas pitched their cloth tents. in them they cooked and ate and slept, and read the bible and sang and prayed, and wrote letters to their friends in prison. by gradual steps, but with overwhelming power, came the heavenly visitation. at first mr. williamson used to meet the former members in one of their own teepees. presently there was an evident softening of hearts. now news came of the awakening among the prisoners at mankato. the teepee would not contain half the listeners, so for some time in the middle of winter the meetings were held in the campus, then in a great dark garret over a warehouse, without other fire than spiritual. in that low garret, when hundreds were crouched down among the rafters, only the glistening eyes of some of them visible in the dark, we remember how the silence was sometimes such that the fall of a pin might be heard. many were convicted; confessions and professions were made; idols treasured for many generations with the highest reverence were thrown away by the score. they had faith no longer in their idols. they laid hold on christ as their only hope. on this ground they were baptized, over a hundred adults, with their children. it was my privilege to be present frequently, and to see how the good hand of the lord was upon them in giving them spiritual blessings in their distresses. there was ever a large and active sympathy between the camp and the prison, and frequent letters passed between them. when, at one time, i brought down several hundred letters from the prisoners, and told them of the wonderful work there in progress, it produced a powerful effect. in both camp and prison, both intellectually and spiritually, it was a winter of great advancement. chapter xiv. - .--the dakota prisoners taken to davenport.--camp mcclellan.--their treatment.--great mortality.--education in prison.--worship.--church matters.--the camp at snelling removed to crow creek.--john p. williamson's story.--many die.--scouts' camp.--visits to them.--family threads.--revising the new testament.--educating our children.--removal to beloit.--family matters.--little six and medicine bottle.--with the prisoners at davenport. the course of the mississippi forming the eastern line of the state of iowa is from north to south; but its trend, as it passes the city of davenport, is to the west; so that what is called "east davenport" is a mile above the city. at this point, in the beginning of the civil war, barracks had been erected for the accommodation of the forming iowa regiments, to which was given the name of "camp mcclellan." thither were transported the condemned sioux who had been kept at mankato during the winter. on the opening of navigation in the spring of , a steamboat ascended to mankato, took on the prisoners, and, on reaching fort snelling, put off about fifty men who had not been condemned, to unite their fortunes with those in the camp. the men under condemnation were taken down to davenport, where, at camp mcclellan, they were guarded by soldiers for the next three years. after a little while, their irons were all taken off, and they enjoyed comparative liberty, being often permitted to go to the town to trade their bows and arrows and other trinkets, and sometimes into the country around to labor, without a guard. they never attempted to make their escape, though at one time it was meditated by some, but so strongly and wisely opposed by the more considerate ones, that the plan was at once abandoned. generally the soldiers who guarded them treated them kindly. it was remarked that a new company, whether of the regular army or of volunteers, when assigned to this duty, at the first treated the prisoners with a good deal of severity and harshness. but a few weeks sufficed to change their feelings, and they were led to pity, and then to respect, those whom they had regarded as worse than wild beasts. the camp was not a pleasant place, except in summer. the surroundings were rather beautiful. the oak groves of the hill-side which bordered the river were attractive. and the buildings occupied by the troops were comfortable. but within the stockade, where the prisoners were kept, the houses were of the most temporary kind, through the innumerable crevices of which blew the winter winds and storms. only a limited amount of wood was furnished them, which, in the cold windy weather, was often consumed by noon. then the indians were under the necessity of keeping warm, if they could, in the straw and under their worn blankets. in these circumstances, many would naturally fall sick go into a decline,--pulmonary consumption, for which their scrofulous bodies had a liking,--and die. the hospital was generally well filled with such cases. the death-rate was very large--more than ten per cent. each year, making about deaths while they were confined at that place. about one hundred men, women, and children, who came afterward into the hands of the military, were added to those who were first brought down. these latter were uncondemned. as some, women had been permitted to come with the prisoners at the first, and now more were added, a good many children were born there. and thus it came to pass that all who were released and returned to their people from this prison numbered only about two hundred and fourscore. for the first two years of their abode at davenport, dr. williamson had the chief care of the educational and church work among them. during this time i only visited them twice. once, when a difficulty and misunderstanding had arisen between dr. williamson and a general roberts, who at one time commanded that department, the doctor was obliged to return to his home in st. peter. on learning the fact, i counselled with general sibley, who gave me a letter to general roberts. before i reached there, however, roberts had become ashamed of his conduct, as i judged, and so i found it quite easy to restore amicable relations. no such difficulties occurred thereafter. for the prisoners these were educational years. they were better supplied with books than they could be at mankato. a new edition of our dakota hymn-book was gotten out, and in an edition of the dakota bible so far as translated, besides other books. the avails of their work in mussel-shells and bows gave them the means of purchasing paper and books. with only a few exceptions, all in the prison who were adults professed to be christians. a few had been baptized by rev. s. d. hinman, of the episcopal church, who visited them once while at davenport. but while a number were recognized as members of that church, they worshipped all together. morning and night they had their singing and praying; but especially at night, when they were not likely to be disturbed by any order from the officer in command. in church matters they naturally fell into classes according to their former clans or villages. in each of these classes one--or more than one--hoonkayape was ordained. he was the elder and class-leader. this arrangement was made by dr. williamson. it was one step toward raising up for them pastors from themselves. on our part it was a felt necessity, for _we_ could not properly watch over and care for these people as _they_ could watch over and care for each other. so the work of education and establishment in the faith of the gospel was carried on. * * * * * let us now return to follow for a little the fortunes of those in the camp at fort snelling. the winter of suspense had worn away, and in the month of april, soon after the mankato prisoners passed down into iowa, those at snelling were placed on a steamboat, and floated down to st. louis and up the missouri to crow creek, where they were told to make homes. mr. j. p. williamson _went_ with them, and _remained_ with them, during those terrible years of suffering and death. who can tell the story better than he? "as they look on their native hills for the last time, a dark cloud is crushing their hearts. down they go to st. louis, thence up the missouri to crow creek. but this brings little relief, for what of the men; and can the women and children ever live in this parched land, where neither rain nor dew was seen for many weeks? "the mortality was fearful. the shock, the anxiety, the confinement, the pitiable diet, were naturally followed by sickness. many died at fort snelling. the steamboat trip of over one month, under some circumstances, might have been a benefit to their health, but when indians were crowded like slaves on the boiler and hurricane decks of a single boat, and fed on musty hardtack and briny pork, which they had not half a chance to cook, diseases were bred which made fearful havoc during the hot months, and the souls that were landed at crow creek june , , decreased to one thousand. for a time a teepee where no one was sick could scarcely be found, and it was a rare day when there was no funeral. so were the hills soon covered with graves. the very memory of crow creek became horrible to the santees, who still hush their voices at the mention of the name. "meetings, always an important means of grace, were greatly multiplied. daily meetings were commenced at fort snelling; the steamboat was made a bethel for daily praise, and the crow creek daily prayer-meetings were held each summer under booths, which plan was continued the first summer at niobrara. women's prayer-meetings were commenced at crow creek, deaconesses being appointed to have charge of them. the children also had meetings, conducted by themselves. all these means were blessed of the holy spirit to the breaking of the herculean chains of paganism." soon after reaching crow creek, mr. williamson called to his assistance mr. edward r. pond and his wife, mrs. mary frances pond--born hopkins--both children of the old missionaries, who continued with these people until the year . * * * * * for the security of the minnesota frontier, and to further chastise the sioux, military expeditions were organized in the spring and summer of . the one that went from minnesota was in command of gen. h. h. sibley. attached to this expedition was a corps of scouts, forty or fifty of them being dakota men, who had in some way, and to some extent, showed themselves to be on the side of the white people, at the time of the outbreak. in this expedition i had the position of interpreter. the families of these sioux scouts were sent out to the frontier, and maintained by the government, not only during that summer, but for several years. this was known as the "scouts' camp," and the church among them was called by the same name, until , when several churches were formed out of this one, as they began to scatter and settle down on the new sisseton reservation. in the summer of , i visited their camp at the head of the red wood. the next summer i was with them for a short time at the yellow medicine. at each of these visits quite a number of additions was made to the roll of church members--infants and grown persons were baptized, marriages were solemnized, and ruling elders were ordained. during these years we had licensed and ordained as an evangelist john b. renville, who accompanied me on each of the visits mentioned. let me now gather up, and weave in, some threads of our home-life. for three years mary and the children made their home in st. anthony, now east minneapolis, in a hired house. our three boys, at the commencement of this period, being fifteen and thirteen and seven respectively, were at a good age to be profited by the schools of the town. thomas and henry soon commenced the rudiments of the latin in mr. butterfield's school. while, to add to the family finances, isabella and martha, in turn, and sometimes both, engaged in teaching. when a student in chicago theological seminary, alfred formed the acquaintance of mary buel hatch. her father had died in her childhood; and her mother had resided a while in rockford, ill., educating her daughters, but was now living in chicago. the attachment then formed resulted in marriage, after alfred had been located a year at lockport, ill., where he was called, immediately on graduating, to be the religious teacher of the congregational church. in the month of june, , they took their wedding journey, and visited the improvised home of the family in st. anthony, whence they returned and made their own home at lockport for four years. this first daughter introduced into the family has charmed us all by her active, sunshiny christian life. returning from the military campaign in the fall of , when there seemed to be no special call for my services with the indians, i addressed myself for the next six months to a revision and completion of the new testament in the dakota language. it was a winter of very hard and confining work, and right glad was i when the spring came, and i could find some recreation in the garden. the next autumn i went to new york and spent three months in the bible house, reading the proof of our new dakota bible, and having some other printing done. to the new testament above mentioned, dr. williamson had added a revised genesis and proverbs. it was at this time the bible society commenced making electrotype plates of the dakota scriptures. * * * * * mary's health, always tenacious but never vigorous, had received a severe shock by the outbreak and what followed. but she did not at once succumb. her will-power was very strong, which often proved sufficient to keep her up when some others would have placed themselves in the hands of a physician. but the house she lived in became more frail and worn in the summer and autumn of , and she was obliged to take some special steps toward upbuilding. for some weeks at the close of the year, when i was absent, she was prevailed upon to try a residence at a water-cure, but without any permanent benefit. as yet, the dakota work, while it had given each one of us plenty to do, did not assume anything like a permanent shape. things were still in a chaotic state. what would be the outcome, no one could tell in the year . there was a time when i seriously asked the question, "what shall i do? shall i seek some other work, or still wait to see what the months will bring forth?" i had even made it a subject of correspondence with secretary treat, whether i might not turn my attention _partly_ to preaching to white people, and do a kind of half-and-half work. that plan was at once discouraged by mr. treat; and then mr. g. h. pond came to my relief, giving it as his decided conviction that i should hold on to the dakota work. so that question was settled. but where this work would be located did not then appear. there did not seem to be any great reason why we should remain in st. anthony. the immediate family business was the education of our children. in the autumn previous, i had taken thomas to beloit, where, after making up some studies, he had entered the freshman class. could we not better accomplish this part of our god-given trust by removing thither, and for a while making that our home? by so doing, i might be farther away from any permanent place of work among the dakotas. on the other hand, i would be nearer the prisoners at davenport, and could relieve dr. williamson for the winter, which was desired. in this state of doubt, it often seemed that it would have been so comforting and satisfying if we could have heard the lord's voice saying, "this is the way, walk ye in it." but no such voice came. however, as mary recruited in the summer, and it seemed quite probable she would be able to remove, our judgment trended to beloit, and i made arrangements for a family home by the purchase of a small cottage and garden, which have been a comfort to us in all these years. and so, in the month of september, we came to the southern line of wisconsin. anna had just completed the course at rockford female seminary, and was ready to do duty in our new home. martha accepted a call to teach at mankato. isabella accompanied us to beloit, having under consideration the question of going to china with rev. mark w. williams. this decision was not fully reached until the meeting of the american board in chicago, in the fall of . one day she and i walked down washington street together, and talked over the subject, and she gave in her answer. in the early days of that year, two of the leaders in the outbreak of were captured from beyond the british line, and, after a trial by a military commission, were condemned to be hanged. these men were commonly known as little six and medicine bottle. while in chicago at the meeting of the board, i received a note from colonel mclaren, commanding at fort snelling, asking me to attend these men before their execution. the invitation was sent at their request. i obeyed the summons, and spent a couple of days with the condemned. but while i was there a telegram came from washington giving them a reprieve. this relieved me from being present when they were hanged, one month afterward. the winter that followed, i gave to the prisoners at davenport. they had passed through the small-pox with considerable loss of life; and that winter only the ordinary cases of sickness and the ordinary number of deaths occurred. these were numerous enough. the confinement of nearly four years, and the uncertainty which had always rested upon them like a nightmare, had all along produced many cases of decline. and even when the time of their deliverance drew nigh, and hope should have made them buoyant, they were too much afraid to hope--the promise was too good to be believed. before their release, i was called home to attend, on the st of february, the marriage of isabella and mr. williams, and to bid them god-speed on their long journey by sailing vessel to china. chapter xv. - .--prisoners meet their families at the niobrara.--our summer's visitation.--at the scouts' camp.--crossing the prairie.--killing buffalo.--at niobrara.--religious meetings.--licensing natives.--visiting the omahas.--scripture translating.--sisseton treaty at washington.--second visit to the santees.--artemas and titus ordained.--crossing to the head of the coteau.--organizing churches and licensing dakotas.--solomon, robert, louis, daniel.--on horseback in .--visit to the santees, yanktons, and brules.--gathering at dry wood.--solomon ordained.--writing "takoo wakan."--mary's sickness.--grand hymns.--going through the valley of the shadow.--death! the spring of saw the prisoners at davenport released by order of the president; and their families, which had remained at crow creek for three dry and parched years, were permitted to join their husbands and brothers and fathers at niobrara, in the north-east angle of nebraska. that was a glad and a sad meeting; but the gladness prevailed over the sadness. and now all the dakotas with whom we had been laboring were again in a somewhat normal condition. all had passed through strange trials and tribulations, and god had brought them out into a large place. the prisoners had prayed that their chains might be removed. god heard them, and the chains were now a thing of the past. they had prayed that they might again have a country, and now they were in the way of receiving that at the hand of the lord. and so, as rev. john p. williamson was with the united church of camp and prison on the missouri, dr. t. s. williamson and i took with us john b. renville and started on a tour of summer visitation. after a week's travel from st. peter, in minnesota, we reached the scouts' camp, which, in the month of june, , we found partly on the margin of lake traverse, and partly at buffalo lake, in the country which was afterward set apart for their especial use. at both of these places we administered the lord's supper, ordained daniel renville as a ruling elder, and licensed peter big-fire and simon anawangmane to preach the gospel. neither of these men developed into preachers, but they have been useful as exhorters from that day to this. on the fourth of july, we added peter to our little company, and started across from fort wadsworth, which had only recently been established, to crow creek on the missouri. from that point we passed down to the mouth of the niobrara. on this journey across the prairie we encountered many herds of buffalo. sometimes they were far to one side of us, and we could pass by without molesting them. once, on the first day from wadsworth, we came suddenly upon a herd of a hundred or more, lying down. when we discovered them, they were only about half a mile in front of us. peter said it was too good a chance not to be improved; he must shoot one. we gave him leave to try, and he crawled around over some low ground and killed a very fine cow. we could only take a little of the meat, leaving the rest to be devoured by prairie wolves. this episode in the day's travel frightened our horses, delayed us somewhat, and made us late getting into camp at the "buzzard's nest." the result was that in the gloaming our horses all broke away, and gave us four hours of hunting for them the next morning. then we had a long, hot ride, without water, over the burning prairie, to james river. as i have said, the prisoners released from davenport and their families from crow creek had met at niobrara. this point had been selected for a town site, and a company had erected a large shell of a frame house intended for a hotel. their plans had failed, and now the thought probably was to reimburse themselves out of the government. we found the indians living in tents, while the families of mr. williamson and mr. pond and others were accommodated with shelter in the big house. for their religious mass-meetings, they had erected a large booth, which served well in the dry weather of summer. every day, morning and evening, they gathered there for prayer and praise, reading the bible and telling what god had done for them. they had come too late to plant, and there was but little employment for them, and so the weeks we spent there were weeks of worship, given to the strengthening of the things that remain, and arranging for future educational and christian work. the churches of the prison and the camp were consolidated, and we selected and licensed artemas ehnamane and titus ichadooze as probationers for the gospel ministry. when we had remained as long as seemed desirable, dr. williamson and i left them, and came down to the omaha reserve, where we visited the new agency among the winnebagoes and the presbyterian boarding-school among the omahas. the latter was flourishing, but, having been conducted in english alone, its spiritual results were very unsatisfactory. the multiplication of dakota readers during the past few years gave a new impulse to our work of translating the scriptures, and made larger demands for other books. this furnished a great amount of winter work for both dr. williamson and myself. in five years we added the psalms, ecclesiastes, the song, and isaiah, together with the other four books of moses, to what he had printed in . the wahpatons and sissetons, who constituted the scouts' camp on the western border of minnesota, and who had done good service in protecting the white settlements from the roving, horse-stealing sioux in the first months of , sent a delegation to washington to make a treaty, and obtain the guarantee of a home and government help. while that delegation was in washington, i took occasion to spend a month or more in lobbying in the interests of indian civilization. to me this kind of work was always distasteful and unsatisfactory, and this time i came home to be taken down with inflammatory rheumatism. i had planned for an early summer campaign in the dakota country, but it was july before i could get courage enough to start. and then it was with a great deal of pain that i endured the stage ride between omaha and sioux city. there i was met by dr. williamson, in his little wagon, and together we proceeded up to the settlement in nebraska. since we had been there in the previous summer, these people had drifted down on to bazille creek, where mr. williamson and mr. pond had erected _shacks_--that is, log houses with dirt roofs--and between the two had made a room for assembly. the two men we had licensed the summer previous were this season ordained and set over the native church, mr. williamson still retaining the oversight. at each visitation we endeavored to work the native church members up to a feeling of responsibility in the work of contributing to the support of their pastors, but it has been no easy undertaking. this summer, with robert hopkins and adam paze for our companions in travel, the doctor and i crossed over directly from niobrara to the head of the coteau. those indians we now found considerably scattered on their new reservation. some general lines began to appear in the settlement, and during this and our visit in the year following several church organizations were effected; and solomon toonkan-shaecheya, robert hopkins, louis mazawakinyanna, and daniel renville were licensed to preach. louis was an elder in the prison and on the niobrara, and of his own motion had gone over to fort wadsworth, and, finding a community of sioux scouts connected with the garrison, commenced religious work among them. in this he was supported and encouraged by the chaplain, rev. g. d. crocker. this year our camp-meeting was held on the border of the coteau as it looks down on lake traverse. the opening of the season of found me starting from sioux city on a gray pony, which i rode across to minnesota. but first i spent some weeks with the santees. they had partly removed from bazille creek down to the bottom where the agency is now located. a long log house had been prepared for a church and school-house. the episcopalians were building extensively and expensively, while our folks contented themselves with very humble abodes. the work of education had progressed very finely, mr. williamson and mr. pond giving much time to it, while mrs. pond and mrs. williamson greatly helped the women in their religious home-life. this summer john p. williamson and i took artemas ehnamane, the senior native minister of the pilgrim church, and crossed over to fort wadsworth, where dr. williamson and john b. renville met us. on the way, we made a short stop at the yankton agency, which we had visited two years before. now it was opening up as a field of promise to mr. williamson, and he proceeded to occupy it soon afterward. we made another stop, for preaching purposes, at brule and crow creek, where the pastor of santee showed himself able to gain the attention of the wild sioux. our ride across the desert land was enlivened by conversation on dakota customs and dakota songs. in both these departments of literature, this former hunter and warrior from red wing was an excellent teacher. this annual gathering at the head of the coteau was held at dry wood lake, where peter big-fire had settled. it was the most remarkable of all those yearly camp-meetings. on this occasion about sixty persons were added to our church list. it was a sight to be remembered, when, on the open prairie, they and their children stood up to be baptized. at the close of this meeting we held another at buffalo lake, in one of their summer houses, which was full of meaning. the recently organized church of long hollow, which then extended to buffalo lake, had selected solomon to be their religious teacher. and this after meeting was held to ordain and install him as pastor of that church. he was a young man of christian experience and blameless life, and has since proved himself to be a very reliable and useful native pastor. since the marvels of grace wrought among the dakotas in the prison and camp, we had received numerous invitations to prepare some account thereof for the christian public. several of these requests came from members of the dakota presbytery, which then covered the western part of minnesota. accordingly, i had taken up the idea, and endeavored to work it out. some chapters had been submitted for examination to a committee of the presbytery, and commended by them for publication. in the autumn and winter of , the manuscript began to assume a completed form. it was submitted to secretary s. b. treat for examination, who made valuable suggestions, and agreed to write an introduction to the book. this he did, in a manner highly satisfactory. the manuscript i first offered to the presbyterian board of publication. but the best that dr. dulles could do was to offer me a hundred dollars for the copy-right. friends in boston thought i could do better there. and so "tahkoo wakan," or "the gospel among the dakotas," was brought out by the congregational publishing society, in the summer of . in the preparation of the book mary had taken the deepest interest, although not able to do much of the mental work. the preface bears date less than three weeks before her death. authors whose books do not sell very well, i suppose, generally marvel at the result. this little volume was, and is still, so intensely interesting to me that i wonder why everybody does not buy and read it. but over against this stands the fact that hitherto less than two thousand copies have been disposed of. pecuniarily, it has not been a success. but neither has it been an entire failure. and perhaps it has done some good in bringing a class of christian workers into more intelligent sympathy and co-operation in the work of indian evangelization; and so the labor is not lost. * * * * * since we left minnesota, mary had apparently been slowly recovering from the invalidism of the past. she enjoyed life. she could occasionally attend religious meetings. the society of beloit was very congenial. sometimes she was able to attend the ministers' meetings, and enjoyed the literary and religious discussions and criticisms. the last winter--that of - --she became exceedingly interested in a book called "the seven great hymns of the mediæval church." she read and re-read the various translations of _dies iræ_. but she was attracted most to the _hora novissima_ of bernard of cluni. such a stanza as the th:-- "thou hast no shore, fair ocean! thou hast no time, bright day! dear fountain of refreshment to pilgrims far away! "upon the rock of ages they raise thy holy tower; thine is the victor's laurel, and thine the golden dower." and the th:-- "jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest, beneath thy contemplation, sink heart and voice oppressed. "i know not, oh, i know not, what social joys are there; what radiancy of glory, what light beyond compare!" but these and others were all eclipsed by the last, which seemed afterward to have been a prophecy of what was near at hand, and yet neither she nor we anticipated it:-- "exult, o dust and ashes! the lord shall be thy part; his only, his forever, thou shalt be, and thou art!" this was a fascination to her. we were blind at the time, and did not see afar off. now it is manifest that even then she was preparing to go to "jerusalem the only." _she was tenting in the land of beulah._ for years past mary had almost ceased to write letters. neither her physical nor mental condition had permitted it. but a letter is found written on the d of february, , which must have been the very last she ever wrote. along with it she sent a copy of some of the stanzas from _hora novissima_, which at this time were such an enjoyment to her. the letter is addressed to isabella, in china. she writes: "your last letter, written october , ' , was received january , . all your letters are very precious to us, but this is peculiarly so. perhaps i have written this before; but if i have, i am glad again to acknowledge the joy it gives me that our father gives you faith to look gratefully beyond the passing shadows of this life into the abiding light of the life to come. "was the th of first chronicles the last chapter we read in family worship before you left home? if so, the th verse must be the one you read: 'be of good courage, and let us behave ourselves valiantly for our people, and for the cities of our god: and let the lord do that which is good in his sight.' even so let it be. may you ever 'be strong in the lord.'" we had passed the nones of march. it was on tuesday, the th, as i well remember, the day of the ministers' meeting, which was held at the house of the presbyterian minister rev. mr. alexander. mary had been planning to attend in the evening. but the day was chill and cold, as march days often are. she had been out in the yard seeing to the washed clothes, and had taken cold. in the evening she was not feeling so well, and decided to stay at home. for several days she thought--and we thought--it was only an ordinary cold, that some simple medicines and care in diet would remedy. on saturday, as she seemed to be growing no better, but rather worse, i called in dr. taggart, who pronounced it a case of pneumonia. the attack, he said, was a severe one, and her lungs were very seriously affected. her hold on life had been so feeble for several years that we could not expect she would throw off disease as easily as a person of more vigor. but at this time her own impression was that she would recover. and the doctor said he saw nothing to make him think she would not. but soon after the physician's first visit, the record is, "she was occasionally flighty and under strange hallucinations, caused either by the disease or the medicines." on the following thursday, she evidently began to be impressed with the thought that she possibly would not get well. she said she felt more _unconscious_ and _stupid_ than she had ever felt before in sickness. when, in answer to her inquiry as to what the doctor said of her case, i told her he was very hopeful, she said, "he does not know much more about it than we do." at one time she remarked, "i feel very delicious, the taking down of the tabernacle appears so beautiful"; and she desired me to get bernard's hymn, and read such passages as "jerusalem the golden" and "exult, o dust and ashes." "friday, march , noon. "i watched with your mother last night. her strength seems to keep up wonderfully well, but the disease has quite affected her power of speech. when it came light, i perceived a livid hue about her eyes, and became alarmed. we sent for dr. taggart. the propriety of continuing the whiskey prescriptions seemed quite doubtful, especially as the mother was taking them under a conscientious protest. when the doctor came, he appeared to be alarmed also, and changed his treatment from dover's powders to quinine, but wished the whiskey continued. "during the morning she spoke several times about the probabilities of life. 'god knows the best time,' she said; 'but, if i am to go now, i do not wish to linger long.' she had been able, she said, to do but little for years, and there was not much reason for her living--but she would be glad to stay longer for the children's sake. at one time she remarked, in substance: 'i have tried all along to do right; i don't know that i should be able to do better if the life was to be lived over again.'" "saturday noon, march . "it is a privilege that i never knew before to watch and wait in a sick chamber where one is in sympathy and contact with the spirit that is mounting upward. it does seem as if the pins of the tabernacle were indeed being taken out one by one, and the taking of it down is beautiful--how much more beautiful will be its rebuilding! "anna and i watched the first part of last night--or, rather, she watched, and i lay on the lounge and got up to help her. in the latter part, alfred took anna's place. so we watch and wait. her mind-wandering continues at intervals, and she complains of her dulness--_so stupid_, she says. christ, she says, has been near to her all winter, and is now. a little while ago, she remarked that she had been once, at st. anthony, as low as she is now, and god had restored her. so she wanted us to pray that god would restore her yet again. this forenoon she had a talk with henry, robbie, and cornelia separately. when mr. warner came in, she asked to see him, and said she hoped to have seen him under different circumstances than the present--and then commended anna to his gentle care." "saturday evening. "one feels so powerless by the side of a sick loved one! how we would like to make well, if we could! but the fever continues to burn, and we can only look on. then the mind wanders and fastens on all kinds of impossible and imaginary things. we would set that right, but we can not. dr. taggart has just been here, and speaks encouragingly of your mother. he thinks if we can keep her along until the fever runs its course, then careful nursing will bring her up again. the neighbors are very kind in offering us help and sympathy." "sabbath morning. "the mother is still here. but the hopes dr. taggart encouraged are not likely to be realized. alfred and i watched with her until after midnight, and mrs. bushnell and anna the rest of the night. as the _bourbon_ continued to be so distasteful, the doctor substituted _wine_; but that was no more desirable. "when told it was the sabbath morning, she looked up brightly and said, 'i think he will come for me to-day.' over and over again, she said, 'he strengthens me.' mrs. carr and mrs. benson came in this morning and were very helpful. the doctor has been up again, and says he is _still_ hopeful. so _we_ hope and watch." "sabbath evening. "the sick one continues much the same as earlier in the day. mrs. blaisdell and mrs. merrill came to offer their sympathy. dr. taggart came again and desired that she might renew the whiskey. this she promised to do. mr. bushnell has been in and expressed his confidence in the _minne-wakan_ for those who are ready to perish." "monday morn, : o'clock. "the end seems to be coming on apace. anna and alfred watched the first part of the night, and mrs. wheeler and i have been watching since. the difficulty of breathing has increased within the last few hours, and added to it is a rattling in the throat. your mother called my attention to it about three o'clock. it seems now as if we can't do much but smooth the way, which we do tenderly--lovingly." "seven o'clock, a. m. "the battle is fought, the conflict is ended, the victory is won, and that _sooner_ than we expected. your mother's life's drama is closed--the curtain is drawn. "about one hour ago she called for some tea. mrs. wheeler hasted and made some fresh. when she had taken that, we gave her also the medicine for the hour. she then appeared to lie easily. i sat down to write a note to thomas, who was in the freedman's work in mississippi. but i had written only a few lines when mrs. wheeler called me. she had noticed a change come on very suddenly. when i reached the bedside, your mother could not speak, and did not recognize me by any sign. she was passing through the deep waters, and had even then reached the farther shore. "mrs. wheeler called up the children, and sent robbie for alfred. but, before he could come, the mother had breathed her last breath. quietly, peacefully, without a struggle, only the gasping out of life, she passed beyond our reach of vision. "yesterday she had said to me, 'i have neglected the flowers.' i asked, 'what flowers?' she replied, 'the immortelles.' _dear, good one, she has gone to the flower-garden of god._" chapter xvi. - .--home desolate.--at the general assembly.--summer campaign.--a. l. riggs.--his story of early life.--inside view of missions.--why missionaries' children become missionaries.--no constraint laid on them.--a. l. riggs visits the missouri sioux.--up the river.--the brules.--cheyenne and grand river.--starting for fort wadsworth.--sun eclipsed.--sisseton reserve.--deciding to build there.--in the autumn assembly.--my mother's home.--winter visit to santee.--julia la framboise. as abraham, a stranger and sojourner in the land of the children of heth, bought of them the cave of machpelah wherein to bury sarah, so it seemed to me that i had come to beloit to make a last resting-place for the remains of mary. the house seemed desolate. sooner or later, it involved the breaking-up of the family. indeed it commenced very soon. robert went up to minnesota to spend a year at martha's. in the meantime, anna had become mistress of the home, and had with her mary cooley, an invalid cousin. that year of i was commissioner from the dakota presbytery to the general assembly, which met in new york city. it was an assembly of more than ordinary interest, as at that meeting, and the one that followed in the autumn, the two branches of the presbyterian church north were again united. during this stay in new york city i was the guest of hon. wm. e. dodge. that was quite a contrast to living among the dakotas. but at the close of the assembly i hastened westward to join dr. williamson at st. peter. he had procured a small double wagon and a pony team, with which we together should make our summer campaign. having fitted ourselves out, as we always did, with tent and camping materials, our first objective point was sioux city, where we had arranged to meet and take in alfred l. riggs. since a little previous to the outbreak in , he had been preaching to white people; first at lockport, ill., where he was ordained and continued with the church five years, and then for a year at centre, wis., and now at woodstock, ill. but all this time he seemed to be only waiting for the dakota work to assume such a shape as to invite his assistance. for some time he had been especially acquainting himself with the most approved methods of education, that he might fill a place which, year by year, was becoming more manifestly important to be filled. as in the progress of modern missions a large and increasing share of the new recruits are the children of missionaries, it will be interesting to know, from one of themselves, how they grow up _in_ and _into_ the missionary kingdom. "my first serious impression of life was that i was living under a great weight of something; and as i began to discern more clearly, i found this weight to be the all-surrounding, overwhelming presence of heathenism, and all the instincts of my birth and all the culture of a christian home set me at antagonism to it at every point. the filthy savages, indecently clad, lazily lounging about the stove of our sitting-room, or flattening their dirty noses on the window-pane, caused such a disgust for everything indian that it took the better thought of many years to overcome the repugnance thus aroused. without doubt, our mothers felt it all as keenly as we, their children, but they had a sustaining ambition for souls, which we had not yet gained. "this feeling of disgust was often accompanied with, and heightened by, fear. the very air seemed to breathe dangers. at times violence stalked abroad unchallenged, and dark, lowering faces skulked around. even in times when we felt no personal danger, this incubus of savage life all around weighed on our hearts. thus it was, day and night. even those hours of twilight, which brood with sweet influences over so many lives, bore to us on the evening air only the weird cadences of the heathen dance or the chill thrill of the war-whoop. "yet our childhood was not destitute of joy. babes prattle beside the dead. so, too, the children of the mission had their plays like other children. but it was lonesome indeed when the missionary band was divided, to occupy other stations, and the playmates were separated. once it was my privilege to go one hundred and twenty miles--to the nearest station--to have a play-spell of a week, and a happy week it was. "notwithstanding our play-spells, ours was a serious life. the serious earnestness of our parents in the pursuit of their work could not fail to fall in some degree on the children. the main purpose of christianizing that people was felt in everything. it was like garrison life in time of war. but this seriousness was not ascetical or morose. far from it. those christian missionary homes were full of gladness. with all the disadvantages of such a childhood was the rich privilege of understanding the meaning of cheerful earnestness in christian life. speaking of peculiar privileges, i must say that i do not believe any other homes can be as precious as ours. it is true every one thinks his is the best mother in the world, and she is to him; but i mean more than this; i mean that our missionary homes are in reality better than others. and there is reason for it. by reason of the surrounding heathenism, the light and power of christianity is more centred and confined in the home. and then, again, its power is developed by its antagonism to the darkness and wickedness around it. for either its light must ever shine clearer, or grow more dim until it expires. "next to our own home, we learned to love the homeland in 'the states,' whence our parents came. a longing desire to visit it possessed us. we thought that there we should find a heaven on earth. this may seem a strange idea; but as you think of us engulfed in heathenism and savage life, it will not seem so strange. it was like living at the bottom of a well, with only one spot of brightness overhead. of course, it would be natural to think that upper world all brightness and beauty. thus all our glimpses of another life than that of heathenism came from 'the states.' there all our ideas of christianized society were located. the correspondence of our parents with friends left behind, the pages of the magazines and papers of the monthly mail, and the yearly boxes of supplies, were the tangible tokens which in our innocent minds awakened visions of the wonderful world of civilization and culture in 'the east.' "these supplies were in reality, perhaps, very small affairs, but we thought them of fabulous value. indeed they were everything to us. with the opening of the new year the list of purchases began to be arranged. each item was carefully considered, and the wants of each of the family remembered. this was no small task when you had to look a year and a half ahead. what debates as to whether b could get on with one pair of shoes, or must have two; or whether c would need some more gingham aprons, or could make the old ones last through. and, then, it was so hard to remember mosquito bars and straw hats in january; but if they were forgotten once, the next january found them first on the list. it was fun to make up the lists, but not so exhilarating when, on summing up the probable cost, it was found to be too much, and then the cruel pen ran through many of our new-born hopes. then the letter went on its way to boston, or maybe to cincinnati, and we waited its substantial answer. sometimes our boxes went around by lazy sloops from boston to new orleans; thence the laboring steamboat bore them almost the whole length of the father of waters; then the flat-boatmen sweated and swore as they poled them up the minnesota to where our teams met them to carry them for another week over the prairies. now it was far on into rosy june. after such waiting, no wonder that everything seemed precious--the very hoops of the boxes and the redolent pine that made them; even the wrappers and strings of the packages were carefully laid away. and, thanks to the kind friends who have cared for this work at our several purchasing depots, our wants were generally capitally met; and yet sometimes the packer would arrange it so that the linseed oil would give a new taste to the dried apples, anything but appetizing, or turn the plain white of some long-desired book into a highly 'tinted' edition. "when the number of our years got well past the single figures, then we went to 'the states,' to carry on the education begun at home. then came the saddest disappointment of all our lives. we found we were yet a good way from heaven. for me, the last remnant of this dream was effectually dispelled when i came to teach a sabbath-school in a back country-neighborhood, where the people were the drift-wood of kentucky and egyptian illinois. thenceforth the land of the dakotas seemed more the land of promise to me. from that time the claims of the work in which my parents were engaged grew upon my mind. "of late years the children of missionaries have everywhere furnished a large portion of the new reinforcements. this is both natural and strange. it is natural that they should desire to stay the hands of their parents, and go to reap what they have sown. on the other hand, they go out in face of all the hardships of the work, made vividly real to them by the experience of their childhood. they are attracted by no romantic sentiment. the romance is for them all worn off long ago. for instance, those of us on this field know the noble red man of the poet to be a myth. we know the real savage, and know him almost too well. thus those who follow in the work of their missionary fathers do not do it without a struggle--often fearful. on the one hand stands the work, calling them to lonesome separation, and on the other the pleasant companionship of civilized society. but if the word of the lord has come to them to go to nineveh, happy are they if they do not go thither by way of joppa. "i have spoken of the drawbacks to entering the work, but the inducements must also be remembered. they are greater than the drawbacks. we know them also better than strangers can. if we have known more of the discouragements of the work, we also know more of its hopefulness. we know the real savage, but we now know and fully believe in his real humanity and salvability by the power of the cross. now, too, when the work is entered, the very difficulties which barred the way grow less or disappear. we find the dreaded isolation to be more in appearance than reality. we here are in connection with the best thought and sympathy of the civilized world, whether it be in scholarship, statesmanship, or christian society. and not unfrequently do we have the visits of friends and the honored representatives of the churches. one may be much more alone in chicago or new york. "the difficulties of the work in earlier years are also changing. we have a different standing before the people among whom we labor. we also have matured and tested our methods of operation, and can be generally confident of success. we have also an ever increasing force in the native agency which adds strength and hopefulness to the campaign. the people we come to conquer are themselves furnishing recruits for this war, so that we, the sons of the mission, stand among them as captains of the host, and our fathers are as generals." * * * * * with such a growing-up, it would seem that he was _attracted_ to the life-work of his father and mother. and yet our children will all bear witness that no special influence was ever used to draw them into the missionary work. some ministers' sons, i understand, have grown up under the burden of the thought that they were expected to be ministers. it was certainly my endeavor not to impose any such burden on my boys. but we certainly did desire--and our desire was not concealed--that all our children should develop into the most noble and useful lives, prepared to occupy any position to which they might be called. accordingly, when a boy, while pursuing his education, has shown a disposition "to knock off," i have used what influence i had to induce him to persevere. but, beyond this, it has been my desire that each one should, under the divine guidance, _choose_, as is their right to do, what shall be their line of work in life. at the same time, it is but just to myself, as well as to them, to say that it gives me great joy now, in my old age, to see so many of mary's children making the life-work of their father and mother their own. * * * * * this visit of alfred to the santee and yankton agencies was made for the purpose of looking over the field, and forming an intelligent judgment as to whether the way was open and the time had come to commence some higher educational work among the dakotas. the place for such an effort was evidently the santee agency. and john p. williamson, who had so long and so well carried on the mission work among the santees, had for several years past been more and more attracted to the yanktons, where there was an open door; and to the yankton agency he had removed his family, in the early spring, before our visit. so the hand of god had shaped the work. it required only that we recognize his hand, and put ourselves in accord with the manifestations of his will. after a few weeks, alfred returned to his people in woodstock, and made his arrangements to close his labors there in the following winter, when he accepted an appointment from the american board to take charge of its work at the santee agency. our summer campaign now commenced. the williamsons, father and son, with titus, one of the santee pastors, and myself, proceeded up the missouri. we made a little stop, as we had done in former years, with the _sechangoos_, or brules, near fort thompson, preaching to them the gospel of christ. some interest was apparent. at least, a superstitious reverence for the name that is above every name was manifest. "what is the name?" one asked. "i have forgotten it." and we again told them of jesus. our next point was the cheyenne agency, near fort sully, a hundred miles above fort thompson, at crow creek. there we spent a week, and met the indians in their council house. our efforts were in the line of sowing seed, much of which fell by the way-side or on the stony places. and then we passed on another hundred miles, to the agency at the mouth of grand river, where were gathered a large number of yanktonais, as well as teetons. this agency is now located farther up the river, and is called standing rock. among these people we found some who desired instruction, but the more part did not want to hear. our attempt to gather them to a sabbath meeting seemed quite likely to fail. but there had been a thunder storm in the early morning, and out a few miles, on a hill-top, a prominent dakota man was struck down by the lightning. he was brought into the agency, and before his burial, at the close of the day, we had a large company of men and women to listen to the divine words of jesus, who is the resurrection and the life. it was an impressive occasion, and it was said by white men that many of those indians listened that day for the first time to christian song and christian prayer. but that agency has since passed into the hands of the catholics, and david, one of our native preachers, who visited there recently, was not permitted to remain. at this point--grand river--our company separated. john p. williamson and titus returned down the missouri, and dr. williamson and i took a young man, blue bird by name, and crossed over to fort wadsworth. on saturday we traveled up the missouri about thirty miles, where we spent the sabbath, and where we were joined by a dakota man who was familiar with the country across to the james river, and who could find water for us in that "dry and thirsty land." as we journeyed that saturday afternoon, the day grew dark, the sun ceased to shine, our horses wanted to stop in the road. it was a weird, unnatural darkness--an eclipse of the sun. we stopped and watched its progress. for about five minutes the eclipse was annular--only a little rim of light gleamed forth. the moon seemed to have a cut in one side, appearing much like a thick cheese from which a very thin slice had been cut out. we all noted this singular appearance. the dakotas on the missouri represent that year by the symbol of a _black sun with stars shining_ above it. when we reached the sisseton reservation, we held our usual camp-meeting again at dry wood lake, regulating and confirming the churches, and receiving quite a number of additions, though not so many as in the year previous. the place for the sisseton agency had been selected, some log buildings erected, and the agent, dr. jared w. daniels, with his family, was on the ground. the time seemed to have come when, to secure the fruits of the harvest, some more permanent occupation should be made in the reservation. mary was gone up higher. the boys, for whose sakes, mainly, we had made a home in beloit, were no longer in college. thomas had graduated, and spent a year in teaching freedmen in mississippi, and was now in the chicago theological seminary; while henry had commenced to seek his fortune in other employment. without apparent detriment, i could break up housekeeping in beloit, and build at sisseton. the plan was formed during this visit, and talked over with dr. williamson and agent daniels. god willing, and the prudential committee at boston approving, it was to be carried into effect the next spring. and so i returned to my home in beloit, and went on to attend the meeting of the two general assemblies at pittsburg, where their union became an accomplished fact. at the close of this meeting, i spent a couple of weeks in visiting friends in fayette county, pa., and the old stone church of dunlap's creek, which had been the church-home of my mother when as yet she was unmarried. * * * * * for several winters preceding this i had been working on translations of the book of psalms and ecclesiastes and isaiah. they were printed in . but this winter of - was mostly spent with the santees. mr. williamson had left that place and gone to the yankton agency, where he has since continued with great prosperity in the missionary work. and so there came to me a pressing invitation from mrs. mary frances pond and miss julia la framboise to come out and help them that winter. julia la framboise was the teacher of the mission-school at santee. she was born of a dakota mother, and her father always claimed that he had indian blood mixed with his french. julia was a noble christian woman, who had been trained up in the mission families, completing her education at miss sill's seminary, in rockford, ill. i found them all actively engaged in carrying forward mission work. but we conceived more might be done to bring children into the school and men and women to the church. accordingly, i called together the pastors and elders of the church, and engaged them to enter upon a system of thorough church visitation, which had the effect of greatly increasing the numbers in attendance on both the school and the church. even then, as it afterward appeared, julia was entering upon the incipient stages of pulmonary consumption. she was not careful of herself. after teaching school until one o'clock, she was ever ready to go with the agent's daughters to interpret for them in the case of some sick person, or to relieve the wants of the poor. before i left, in march, her cough had become alarming. and so it increased. the second summer after this, she was obliged to stop work, and simply wait for the coming of the messenger that called her to the father's house above. chapter xvii. - .--beloit home broken up.--building on the sisseton reserve.--difficulties and cost.--correspondence with washington.--order to suspend work.--disregarding the taboo.--anna sick at beloit.--assurance.--martha goes in anna's place.--the dakota churches.--lac-qui-parle, ascension.--john b. renville.--daniel renville.--houses of worship.--eight churches.--the "word carrier."--annual meeting on the big sioux.--homestead colony.--how it came about.--joseph iron old man.--perished in a snow storm.--the dakota mission divides.--reasons therefor. the spring of brought with it a breaking-up of the beloit home. some months before mary's death, she had invited to our house an invalid niece, the daughter of her older sister, mrs. lucretia cooley. a dear, good girl mary cooley was. she had during the war acted as nurse, in the service of the christian commission. but her health failed. it was hoped that a year in the west might build her up. after her aunt had gone from us, mary cooley remained with us. but the malady increased; and this spring her brother allan came and took her back to massachusetts. and now, only a little while ago, we heard of her release in california, whither the family had removed. the good lord had compassion upon her, and took her to a land where no one says, "i am sick." then the house was rented. the household goods and household gods were scattered, the major part being taken up into the indian country. anna would spend the summer with friends in beloit, and cornelia, the youngest, i took up to minnesota, and left with martha on the frontier. my plan was to put up two buildings, a dwelling-house and a school-house, for the erection of which the committee at boston had appropriated $ . that may seem quite an amount; but the materials had to be transported from minneapolis and the red river of the north. what i purchased at minneapolis was carried by rail and steamboat one hundred and fifty miles. there remained one hundred and thirty, over which the lumber was hauled in wagons in the month of june, when the roads were bad and the streams swimming. and so the cost was very great,--dressed flooring coming up to $ per feet, dressed siding $ , shingles about $ per , and common lumber $ a thousand feet. when the materials were on the ground, but little money was left for their erection. but, with one carpenter and two or three young men to assist, i pushed forward the work, and by the middle of september the houses were up, and ready to be occupied, though in an unfinished state. during this time there were some things transpired which deserve to be noticed. before commencing to build, i had received the written approval of the agent. in regard to the locality we differed. he wished me to build in the immediate vicinity of the agency, while i, for very good reasons, selected a place nearly two miles away. but that, i think, could have made no difference in his feeling toward the enterprise. however, soon after i commenced, i was visited by gabriel renville, who was recognized as the head man on the reservation. he did not forbid my proceeding, but wanted to know whether i had authority to do so. i replied that i had the approval of agent daniels, which i regarded as sufficient. when i reported this to mr. daniels, he advised me to write to the commissioner of indian affairs, and obtain a permit, which, he said, might save me trouble. accordingly, i wrote immediately to the department of the interior, stating the life-long connection we had had with these indians, and the work we had done among them, and that now i was authorized by the a. b. c. f. m. to erect mission buildings among them, and asking that our plan be approved. after three or four weeks, when i was in the very middle of my work of building, there came an order from washington that i should suspend operations until they would settle the question to what religious denomination that part of the field should be assigned. that subject was then under advisement, they said. should i obey? if i did so, much additional expense would be incurred, and my summer's work, as planned, would be a failure. really no question could be raised about it. the american board had been doing missionary work among those indians for a third of a century, and no other denomination or missionary board pretended to have any claim on the field. it was unreasonable, under the circumstances, that we should be asked to suspend, and thus suffer harm and loss. so i placed my letter safely away and went on with my work. no human being there knew that i had received such a command. by the return mail i wrote to secretary treat, rehearsing the whole case, and asking him, without delay, to write to the authorities at washington. i told him i had concluded to disregard the _taboo_, and would not in consequence thereof drive a nail the less. when the summer months were passed, and my houses were both up, i received a letter from the commissioner commending my work, and telling me to go forward. in the latter end of august there came to me a letter, written in a strange hand, saying that anna was lying sick at mr. carr's, of typhoid fever. the intention of the letter evidently was not to greatly alarm me, but it conveyed the idea that she was very sick, and the result was doubtful. ten or twelve days had passed since it was written. my affairs were not then in a condition to be left without much damage, and so i determined to await the coming of another mail. when i heard again, a week later, there was no decided change for the better. so the letter read. but in the meantime this word had come to me--"this sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of god." it came to me like a revelation. i seemed to know it. it quieted my alarm. all anxiety was not taken away, but my days passed in comparatively quiet trust. about the middle of september i started down with my own team, and, on reaching st. peter and mankato, i received letters from anna written with her own hand. she had come up gradually, but a couple of months passed before she was strong. before i commenced building at good will, which was the name we gave to our new station, the understanding was that anna would be married in the coming autumn, and she and her husband would take charge of the mission work there. anna seemed to have grown up into the idea that her life-work was to be with the dakotas. but it was otherwise ordered. in the october following, when we all again met in beloit, she was married to h. e. warner, who had lost an arm in the war of the rebellion, and they have since made their home in iowa. martha taylor riggs had been married to wyllys k. morris, in december, . for a time they made their home in mankato, minn., and then removed to a farm twenty miles from town. life on the extreme frontier they found filled with privations and hardships, and so were quite willing to accept the new place; and before the winter set in they were removed to good will. robert, who had gone up after his mother's death, and spent a year with martha at sterling, minn., returned to beloit, and entered the preparatory department of the college. cornelia went with us to good will, and remained two years. * * * * * the home was again in dakota land. we at once opened a school, which has since been taught almost entirely by w. k. morris.[ ] the native churches needed a good deal of attention. at lac-qui-parle a number of families had stopped and taken claims. there a church was organized of about forty members, which for two or three years was in the charge of rev. john b. renville. but about this time mr. renville removed to the reservation, and from that time the dakota settlement gradually diminished, until all had removed, and the lac-qui-parle church was absorbed by those on the reserve. [ ] this school has been much enlarged since . ascension, or _iyakaptape_, so named from its having been from time immemorial the place where the coteau was ascended by the dakotas on their way westward, was the district in which a number of the renville families took claims. daniel renville, one of our licentiates, had been preaching to the church gathered there. but it was understood all along that john b. renville was to be their pastor. and so it came about, as he now transferred his home to that settlement. in the spring of , mr. renville had purchased a little house in st. anthony, where they made their home for several years, mrs. renville teaching a school of white children for a part of the time. removing from there, they pre-empted a piece of land on beaver creek. during these years they had in their family from four to six half-breed or dakota children, whom they taught english very successfully, and for the most part maintained them out of their own scanty means. while living in st. anthony, mr. renville had translated "precept upon precept," which was printed in boston, and became thenceforth one of our dakota school-books. as mr. daniel renville was now released from labor at ascension, i proposed his name to the good will church, and advised them to elect him to be their religious teacher. but when the election took place they all voted for me. i thanked them for the honor they did me, and told them that it could not be. our plan of missionary work was changed. henceforth the preaching and pastoral work were to be done almost exclusively by men from among themselves. it was better for them that it should be so, for only in that way would they learn to support their own gospel. we missionaries had never asked them to contribute anything toward our support. it was manifestly incongruous that we should do so. and yet they were so far advanced in the knowledge of christian duties that they ought to assume the burden of contributing to the support of their own religious teachers. it would be a means of grace to them. moreover, a man who spoke the language natively had great advantage over us, both in preaching and pastoral work. when i had made this speech to them, they went again into an election, and chose daniel renville to be their pastor. he was soon afterward ordained and installed by the dakota presbytery, and continued with the good will church about six years. previous to this time, the original dakota presbytery had been divided into the _mankato_ and _dakota_, the latter of which was again confined to the dakota field, as it had been when first formed in . at this time solomon was the pastor of the long hollow church, and louis was stated supply at fort wadsworth, or kettle lakes, and thomas good a licentiate preacher at buffalo lake. some time after this the mayasan church was organized, and louis called to take charge of it, david gray cloud coming into his place at fort wadsworth. the general assembly of the presbyterian church had set on foot their million thank offering effort, which was available for poor churches in erecting houses of worship. by means of this outside help, the ascension church and the long hollow church, as well as the homestead settlement church on the big sioux, were enabled to build houses--two of them of logs. the building at long hollow continues to be occupied by the church, while the other two houses have given place to larger and better frame buildings. in the spring of our dakota church organizations were eight, _viz._: the pilgrim church, at santee, with members, rev. artemas ehnamane and rev. titus ichadooze pastors; the flandreau or river bend church, on the big sioux, with members, joseph iron-oldman pastor elect; the lac-qui-parle church, with members, now without a pastor; the ascension church, on the sisseton reservation, with members, rev. john b. renville pastor; the dry wood lake or good will church, with members, rev. daniel renville pastor; the long hollow church, with members, rev. solomon toonkan-shaecheya pastor; the kettle lakes or fort wadsworth church, with members, rev. louis mazawakinyanna stated supply; and the recently organized church at yankton agency, with members, in charge of rev. john p. williamson. * * * * * in the month of may of this year, the first number of the _iapi oaye_ appeared. it was a very modest little sheet of four pages, eight by ten inches, and altogether in the dakota language, with the motto, "taku washta okiya, taku shecha kepajin," which, being interpreted, would read, "to help what is good, to oppose what is bad." rev. john p. williamson, who had the sole charge of it for the first twelve numbers, in his first dakota editorial, thus accounts for its origin: "for three years i have prepared a little tract at new year, which mr. e. r. pond printed, and i distributed gratuitously to all who could read dakota. and many persons liked it, and some said, 'if we had a newspaper, we would pay for it.' i have trusted to the truth of this saying, and so this winter have been preparing to print one. but i have found many obstacles in the way, and have not gotten out the first number until now." as it was to be the means of conveying the thoughts and speech of one person to another, it was proper, he said, to call it _iapi oaye_, or "word carrier." the subscription price was placed at fifty cents a year. this was not increased after the paper was doubled in size, as it was the first of january, , at the commencement of the second volume. when the change was made, i was taken in as associate editor, and henceforth about one-third of the letter-press was to be in the english language. by this means we could communicate missionary intelligence to white people, and thus secure their aid in supporting the paper, as well as extend the interest in our work. and, as an attraction to the dakotas, a full-page picture has been generally added. in starting the paper, the main object proposed was to stimulate education among the dakotas, so that we were not disappointed to find that, in addition to all that came in from subscriptions, several hundred dollars were required from the missionary funds to square up the year. but we lived in hope, and do so still, that the time will come when the enterprise will be self-supporting. it has proved itself to be an exceedingly important assistant in our missionary work, which we can not afford to let die. * * * * * with the homesteaders on the big sioux, on the d of june, , we held our first general conference of the dakota churches.[ ] from the sisseton agency there went down john b. renville, daniel renville, and solomon, of the pastors, with several elders and myself. dr. williamson came up from st. peter; and john p. williamson, a. l. riggs, and artemas ehnamane, and others, came over from the missouri river. year by year, from that time on, we have continued to hold these meetings, and they have constantly increased in interest and importance. on this first occasion, four or five days were spent, and religious meetings held each day. the circumstances by which we were surrounded intensified the interest. as yet there was no church or school-house in which we could assemble, and our meetings were held out-of-doors, or under a booth in connection with mr. all iron's cabin. [ ] this was preliminary to the regularly organized conference which met the next year. this colony of more than one hundred church members had located near the eastern line of dakota territory, in the beautiful and fertile valley of the big sioux river. their settlement lay along that stream for twenty-five or thirty miles, its centre being about forty miles above the thriving town of sioux falls. the most of these men were in engaged in the sioux outbreak in minnesota. for three years they were held in military prisons. meanwhile, their families and the remnants of their tribe had been deported to the missouri river; so that when they found themselves together again, it was at niobrara, neb., or soon afterward at the newly established santee agency a few miles below. what impulse stirred them up to break away from their own tribe, to which they had but just returned, and try the hard work of making a home among coldly disposed if not hostile whites? what made them leave all their old traditional ties and relationships and go forth as strangers and wanderers? it must be borne in mind that they left behind them the food which the government issued weekly on the agency, to seek a very precarious living by farming, for which they had neither tools nor teams. they also gave up the advantage of the yearly issue of clothing, and the prospect of such considerable gifts of horses, oxen, cows, wagons, and ploughs, as were distributed occasionally on the agency. more than this: those who had already received such gifts from the united states indian civilization fund had to leave all behind, though they went out for the very purpose of seeking a higher civilization. they went forth in the face, moreover, of great opposition and derision from the chiefs of their tribe. the united states indian agent was also against them. whence, then, did they have the strength of purpose which enabled them to face all this opposition, brave all these dangers? the germs of this movement are only to be found in the resolves for a new life made by these men when in prison! there all were nominally, and the larger part were really, converted to christ. all of them in some sense experienced a conversion of thought and purpose. there they agreed to abolish all the old tribal arrangements and customs. old things were to be done away, and all things were to become new. and as they had been electing their church officers, so they would elect the necessary civil officers. but when they came to their people they found the old indian system in full power, backed by the authority of the united states. of the old chiefs who ruled them in minnesota, little crow and little six, the leaders of the rebellion, were dead; but the others, who had been kept out of active participation, not by their loyalty to the united states, but by their jealousy of these leaders, had saved their necks and were again in power. a few had been appointed to vacancies by the united states agent, and the ring was complete. and our friends were commanded at once to fall in under the old chiefs before they could receive any rations. they must be indians or starve! nothing was to be hoped for from within the tribe, nor from washington. the indian principle was regnant there also. nothing was left to them but to seek some other land. one said: "i could not bear to have my children grow up nothing but indians"; so they all felt. they made their hegira in march, . in this region this is the worst month in the year, but they had to take advantage of the absence of their agent and the chiefs at washington. twenty-five families went in this company. a few had ponies, but they mostly took their way on foot, packing their goods and children, one hundred and thirty miles over the dakota prairies. about midway a fearful snow-storm burst upon them. they lost their way, and one woman froze to death. the next autumn fifteen other families joined them, and twenty more followed the year after. even one of the chiefs, finding the movement likely to succeed, left his chieftainship and its emoluments to join them. he thought it more to be a man than to be a chief. existence was a hard struggle for several years; for these indians had neither ploughs nor working teams. but they exchanged work with their white neighbors, and so had a little "breaking" done. and in the fall and early spring they went trapping, and by this means raised a little money to pay entry fees on their lands and buy their clothes. on one of these hunting expeditions, iron old man, the acting pastor of their church and a leader in the colony, was overtaken, while chasing elk, by one of the dakota "blizzards," and he and his companion in the hunt perished in the snow-drifts. joseph iron old man was not an old man, notwithstanding his name, but a man in middle life. he had been a hoonkayape or elder in the prison, re-elected on the consolidation of the pilgrim church in nebraska, and thus elected to the same office a third time in the river bend church on the big sioux. after this, when the church met to elect a religious teacher, he was chosen almost unanimously. it was expected that the presbytery would have confirmed the action of the church at this gathering in june. but this was not to be. on the seventh day of april, when it was bright and warm, he and another dakota man, as they were out hunting, came upon half-a-dozen elk. they chased them first on horseback, until their horses were jaded. then, leaving the horses, they kept up the pursuit on foot, in the meantime divesting themselves of all superfluous clothing. in this condition, the storm came upon them suddenly, when they were out in the open prairie between the big sioux and the james river. escape was impossible, and to live through the storm and cold in their condition was equally impossible, even for an indian. far and near their friends hunted, but did not find them until the first day of may. so the hopes and plans of the colony and the church were disappointed. at our meeting, we expressed sorrow and sympathy, and endeavored to lead the people to a higher trust in god. the young men might fail and fall, but the command was still, "hope thou in god." before we left them, they elected another leader--williamson o. rogers--mr. all iron. * * * * * the dakota mission had been, from its commencement, under the american board of commissioners for foreign missions. as presbyterians, we had been connected with the new school branch. but now the two schools had been united. many--nay, most--of the new school assembly, who had worked with the american board, now thought it their duty to withdraw, and connect themselves and their contributions with the assembly's board of foreign missions. the ploughshare must be run through the mission fields also. we in the dakota mission were invited to transfer our relations. the prudential committee at boston left us to act out our own sweet will. dr. t. s. williamson and rev. john p. williamson elected to go over to the presbyterian board. for myself, i did not care to do so. although conscientiously a presbyterian, i was not, and am not, so much of one as to draw me away from the associations which had been growing for a third of a century. whether i reasoned rightly or wrongly, i conceived that i had a character with the american board that i could not transfer; and i was too old to build up another reputation. besides, alfred l. riggs had now joined the mission, and as a congregational minister he could do no otherwise than retain his connection with the a.b.c.f.m. the case was a plain one. we divided. some questions then came up as to the field and the work. these were very soon amicably settled, on a basis which, so far as i know, has continued to be satisfactory from that day to this. the churches on the sisseton reservation and at the santee were to continue in connection with the american board; while the big sioux and yankton agency churches would be counted as under the presbyterian board. henceforth, in regard to common expenses of dakota publications, _they_ were to bear _one-third_, and _we two-thirds_. chapter xviii. - .--a. l. riggs builds at santee.--the santee high school.--visit to fort sully.--change of agents at sisseton.--second marriage.--annual meeting at good will.--grand gathering.--new treaty made at sisseton.--nina foster riggs.--our trip to fort sully.--an incident by the way.--stop at santee.--pastor ehnamane.--his deer hunt.--annual meeting in .--rev. s. j. humphrey's visit.--mr. humphrey's sketch.--where they come from.--morning call.--visiting the teepees.--the religious gathering.--the moderator.--questions discussed.--the _personnel_.--putting up a tent.--sabbath service.--mission reunion. from flandreau, the dakota homestead settlement on the big sioux, i accompanied a. l. riggs and j. p. williamson to the missouri. a year before this time, in the month of may, , alfred had removed his family from woodstock, ill., to the santee agency. the mission buildings heretofore had been of the cheapest kind. only one small house had a shingle roof; the rest were "shacks." before his arrival, some preparation had been made for building--logs of cotton-wood had been cut and hauled to the government saw-mill. these were cut up into framing lumber. the pine boards and all finishing materials were taken up from yankton and sioux city and chicago, and so he proceeded to erect a family dwelling and a school-house, which could be used for church purposes. these were so far finished as to be occupied in the autumn; and a school was opened with better accommodations and advantages than heretofore. in the december _iapi oaye_, there appeared a notice of the santee high school, rev. a. l. riggs principal, with eli abraham and albert frazier assistants. the advertisement said, "if any one should give you a deer, you would probably say, 'you make me glad.' but how much more would you be glad if one should teach you how to hunt and kill many deer. so, likewise, if one should teach you a little wisdom he would make you glad, but you would be more glad if one taught you how to acquire knowledge." this the santee high school proposed to do. on reaching the santee, i met by appointment thomas l. riggs, who had come on from chicago at the end of his second seminary year. together we proceeded up to fort sully, where we spent a good part of the summer that remained. but this, with what came of our visit, will be related in a following chapter. in the autumn i returned to good will, and the winter was one of work, on the line which we had been following. during the early part of this winter, - , a change was made of agents at sisseton; dr. j. w. daniels resigned, and rev. m. n. adams came in his place. dr. daniels was bishop whipple's appointee, and, as the episcopalians were not engaged in the missionary work on this reservation, it was evidently proper, under the existing circumstances, that the selection should be accorded to the american board. as, many years before, mr. adams had been a missionary among a portion of these people, he came as united states indian agent, with an earnest wish to forward in all proper ways the cause of education and civilization and the general uplifting of the whole people. he met with a good deal of opposition, but continued to be agent more than three years, and left many memorials of his interest and efficiency, in the school-houses he erected, as well as in the hearts of the christian people. * * * * * the object that had been paramount in taking our family to beloit in was but partly accomplished when mary died in the spring of . since that time three years had passed. robert had gone back to beloit to school, and was now ready to enter the freshman class of the college. cornelia was in her fourteenth year, and her education only fairly begun. it was needful that she should have the advantages of a good school. to accomplish my desire for their education it seemed best to reoccupy our vacant house. that spring of , i was commissioner from the dakota presbytery to the general assembly, which met in detroit. at the close of the assembly, i went down to granville, ohio, and, in accordance with an arrangement previously made, i married mrs. annie baker ackley, who had once been a teacher with us at hazelwood, and more recently had spent several years in the employ of the american missionary association, in teaching the freedmen. we at once proceeded to the good will mission station, where the summer was spent, and then in the autumn opened our house in beloit. the meeting of the ministers and elders and representatives of the dakota churches, which was held with the river bend church on the big sioux, had been found very profitable to all. at that time a like conference had been arranged for, to meet on the th of june, , with the church of good will, on the sisseton reservation. the announcement was made in the april _iapi oaye_. in the invitation nine churches are mentioned, _viz._: _the santee_, _yankton_, _river bend_, _lac-qui-parle_, _ascension_, _good will_, _buffalo lake_, _long hollow_, and _kettle lakes_. it was said that subjects interesting and profitable to all would be discussed; and especially was the presence of the holy spirit desired and prayed for, since, without god present with us, the assembly would be only a dead body. in the green month of june, when the roses on the prairie began to bloom, then they began to assemble at our dakota conference. dr. t. s. williamson came up from his home at st. peter-- miles. john p. williamson, from the yankton agency, and a. l. riggs, from santee, brought with them rev. joseph ward, pastor of the congregational church in yankton. as they came by sioux falls and flandreau, their whole way would not be much under miles. thomas l. riggs, who had commenced his new station in the close of the winter, came across the country from fort sully on horseback, a distance of about miles, having with him a dakota guide and soldier guard. they rode it in less than five days. from all parts came the dakota pastors and elders and messengers of the churches. the gathering was so large that a booth was made for the sabbath service. it was an inspiration to us all. it was unanimously voted to hold the next year's meeting with the yanktons at the yankton agency. at the sisseton agency, in the month of september, a semi-treaty was made by agents m. n. adams and w. h. forbes, and james smith, jr., of st. paul, united states commissioners, with the dakota indians of the lake traverse and devil's lake reservations, by which they relinquish all their claim on the country of north-eastern dakota through which the northern pacific railroad runs. by this arrangement, education would have been made compulsory, and the men would have been enabled to obtain patents for their land within some reasonable time; but the senate struck out everything except the ceding of the land and the compensation therefor. our legislators do not greatly desire that indians should become white men. when thanksgiving day came this year, mr. adams dedicated a fine brick school-house, which he had that summer erected, in the vicinity of the agency. of this occasion he wrote, "it was indeed a day of thanksgiving and praise with us, and to me an event of the deepest interest. and i hope that good and lasting impressions were made there upon the minds of some of this people." in the work of bible translation, i had been occupied with the book of daniel in the summer, and, in the winter that followed, my first copy of the minor prophets was made. when the spring came, i hied away to the dakota country. this time my course was to the missouri river. thomas had been married in bangor, me., to nina foster, daughter of hon. john b. foster, and sister of mrs. charles h. howard of the _advance_. they came west, and, as the winter was not yet past, thomas went on from chicago alone, and nina remained with her sister until navigation should open. and so it came to pass that she and i were company for each other to fort sully. as we left yankton in the stage for santee, where we were to stop a few days and wait for an up-river boat, an incident occurred which must have been novel to the girl from bangor. the day was just breaking when the stage had made out its complement of passengers, except one. there were six men on the two seats before us, and nina and i were behind. at a little tavern in the suburbs of the town, the ninth passenger was taken in. as he came out we could see that he was the worse for drinking. i at once shoved over to the middle of the seat, and let him in by my side. he turned out to be a burly french half-breed, or a frenchman who had a dakota family. we had gone but a little distance, when he said he was going to smoke. i objected to his smoking inside the stage. he begged the lady's pardon a thousand times, but said he must smoke. by this time he had hunted in his pockets, but did not find his pipe. "o mon pipe!" the stage-driver must turn around and go back--it cost $ . he worked himself and the rest of us into quite an excitement. by and by he said to me: "do you know who i am?" i said i did not. he said, "i am red cloud, and i have killed a great many white men." "ah," said i, "you are red cloud? i do not believe you can talk dakota"--and immediately i commenced talking dakota. he turned around and stared at me. "who are you?" he said. from that moment he was my friend, and ever so good. it was now the month of may, but there were deep snow banks still in the ravines on the north side of the river. a terrible storm had swept over the country from the north-east about the middle of april. a hundred indian ponies and forty or fifty head of cattle at the santee agency had perished. this made spring work go heavily. i was interested in examining the building erected last summer for the girls' boarding-school. it should have been completed before the winter came on, according to the agreement. but now it is intended to have it ready for occupancy the first of september. when finished, it will accommodate twenty or twenty-four girls and also the lady teachers. on the sabbath we spent there, i preached in the morning, and pastor artemas ehnamane preached in the afternoon. the _word carrier_ tells a good story of this santee pastor. in his younger days, ehnamane was one of the best dakota hunters. tall and straight as an arrow, he was literally as swift as a deer. and he learned to use a gun with wonderful precision. only a few years before this time, i was traveling with him, when, in the evening, he took his gun and went around a lake, and brought into camp twelve large ducks. he had shot three times. well, in the fall of his church gave him a vacation of six weeks, and "he turned his footsteps to the wilds of the running water, where his heart grew young, and his rifle cracked the death-knell of the deer and antelope. "being on the track of the hostile sioux who go to fight the pawnees, one evening he found himself near a camp of the wild brules. _he_ was weak, _they_ were strong and perhaps hostile. it was time for him to show his colors. his kettles were filled to the brim. the proud warriors were called, and as they filled their mouths with his savory meat, he filled their ears with the sound of the gospel trumpet, and gave them their first view of eternal life. thus the _deer hunt_ became a _soul hunt_. the wild brules grunted their friendly 'yes,' as they left ehnamane's teepee, their mouths filled with venison, and their hearts with the good seed of truth, from which some one will reap the fruit after many days." * * * * * on the th of june, , the second regular annual meeting of the dakota conference commenced its sessions at rev. john p. williamson's mission at the yankton agency. the _word carrie_r for august says this was a very full meeting: "every missionary and assistant missionary, except mrs. s. r. riggs and w. k. morris, was present, also every native preacher and a full list of other delegates." i came down from fort sully with t. l. riggs and his wife, who had only joined him a few weeks before. martha riggs morris and her two children came over from sisseton--three hundred miles--with the dakota delegation. they had a hard journey. the roads were bad and the streams were flooded. there was no way of crossing the big sioux except by swimming, and those who could not swim were pulled over in a poor boat improvised from a wagon-bed. it was not without a good deal of danger. those from the santee agency had only the missouri river to cross, and a day's journey to make. the interest of our meeting was greatly increased by the presence of rev. s. j. humphrey, d.d., district secretary of the american board, chicago; and rev. e. h. avery, pastor of the presbyterian church in sioux city. mr. williamson's new chapel made a very pleasant place for the gatherings. _pastoral support_, _pastoral visitation_, and _vernacular teaching_ were among the live topics discussed. their eager consideration and prompt discussion of these questions were in strong contrast with the stolid indifference and mulish reticence of the former life of these native dakotas, and showed the working of a superhuman agency. our friend s. j. humphrey wrote and published a very life-like description of what he saw and heard on this visit, and it does me great pleasure to let him bear testimony to the marvels wrought by the power of the gospel of christ. * * * * * "the annual meeting of the dakota mission was held at yankton agency, commencing june . we esteem it a rare privilege to have been present on that occasion and to have seen with our own eyes the marvelous transformations wrought by the gospel among this people. thirty-six hours by rail took us to yankton, the border town of civilization. twelve hours more in stage and open wagon along the north bank of the missouri--the big muddy, as the indians rightly call it--carried us sixty miles into the edge of the vast open prairie, and into the heart of the yankton reservation. here, scattered up and down the river bottom for thirty miles, live the yanktons, one of the dakota bands, about in number. thirty miles below, on the opposite bank, in nebraska, are the santees. up the river for many hundreds of miles at different points other reservations are set off, while several wilder bands still hunt the buffalo on the wide plains that stretch westward to the black hills. the sissetons, another family of this tribe, are located near lake traverse, on the eastern boundary of dakota territory. this is the field of the dakota mission. the chief bands laid hold of thus far are the sisseton, the santee, and the yankton. a new point has recently been taken at fort sully, among the teetons. "it was from these places, lying apart in their extremes at least miles, that more than a hundred indians gathered at this annual meeting. on thursday afternoon the hospitable doors of rev. j. p. williamson's spacious log house opened just in time to give us shelter from a fierce storm of wind and rain. the next morning the santees, fifty of them from the pilgrim church, some on foot, some on pony-back, and a few in wagons, straggled in, and pitched their camp, in indian fashion, on the open space near the mission house. about noon the sissetons appeared, a dilapidated crowd of more than forty, weary and foot-sore with their miles tramp through ten tedious days. among them was one white person, a woman, with her two children, the youngest an infant, not a captive, but a missionary's wife, traveling thus among a people whom the gospel had made captives themselves, chiefly through the labors of an honored father and a mother of blessed memory. it intimates the courage and endurance needed for such a trip to know that there were almost no human habitations on the way, and that swollen rivers were repeatedly crossed in the wagon-box, stripped of its wheels and made sea-worthy by canvas swathed underneath. "an hour afterward, from miles in the opposite direction, the fort sully delegation appeared. for father riggs, and the younger son, famous as a hard rider, this journey was no great affair. but the tenderly reared young wife--how she could endure the five days of wagon and tent life is among the mysteries. "that this was no crowd of indian revellers come to a sun dance (as it might have been of yore) was soon manifest. the first morning after their arrival, a strange, chanting voice, like that of a herald, mingled with our day-break dreams. had we been among the mussulmans we should have thought it the muezzin's cry. of course, all was indian to us, but we learned afterward that it was indeed a call to prayer, with this english rendering:-- "'morning is coming! morning is coming! wake up! wake up! come to sing! come to pray!' "in a few minutes, for it does not take an indian long to dress, the low cadence of many voices joining in one of our own familiar tunes rose sweetly on the air, telling us that the day of their glad solemnities had begun. this was entirely their own notion, and was repeated each of the four days we were together. "on this same morning another sharp contrast of the old and the new appeared. by invitation of the elder williamson, we took a walk among the teepees of the natives who live on the ground. passing, with due regard for dakota etiquette, those which contained only women, we came to one which we might properly enter. the inmates were evidently of the heathen party. a man, apparently fifty, sat upon a skin, entirely nude save the inevitable blanket, which he occasionally drew up about his waist. a lad of sixteen, in the same state, lounged in an obscure corner. the mother, who, we learned, occasionally attended meeting, wore a drabbled dress, doubtless her only garment. two or three others were present in different stages of undress, and all lazy, stolid, dirty. as we looked into these impassive faces we could understand the saying of one of the missionaries, that when you first speak to an audience of wild indians you might as well preach to the back of their heads, so far as any responsive expression is concerned. and yet, now and then, the dull glow of a latent ferocity would light up the eye, like that of a beast of prey looking for his next meal. alas! for the noble red man! in spite of what the poets say, we found him a filthy, stupid savage. all this we have time to see while mr. williamson talks to them in the unknown tongue. but now the little church bell calls us to the mission chapel. it is already filled--the men on one side, the women on the other. the audience numbers perhaps two hundred. "all classes and ages are there. all are decently dressed. were it not for the dark faces, you would not distinguish them from an ordinary country congregation. the hymn has already been given out, and each, with book in hand, has found the place. the melodeon sets the tune, and then, standing, they sing. it is no weak-lunged performance, we can assure you. not altogether harmonious, perhaps, but vastly sweeter than a war-whoop, we fancy; certainly hearty and sincere, and, we have no doubt, an acceptable offering of praise. a low-voiced prayer, by a native pastor, uttered with reverent unction, follows. another singing, and then the sermon. one of the renvilles is the preacher. we do not know what it is all about. but the ready utterance, the mellifluent flow of words, the unaffected earnestness of the speaker, and the fixed attention of the audience, mark it as altogether a success. while he speaks to the people, we study their faces. they are certainly a great improvement upon those we saw in the teepee. but not one or two generations of christian life will work off the stupid, inexpressive look that ages of heathenism have graven into them. there is a steady gain, however. just as in a dissolving view there come slowly out on the canvas glimpses of a fair landscape, mingling strangely with the dim outlines of the disappearing old ruin, so there is struggling through these stony faces an expression of the new creation within, the converted soul striving to light up and inform the hard features, and displace the ruin of the old savage life. but the poor women! their case is even worse. they start from a lower plane. some of these are young, some are mothers with their infants, many are well treated wives, not a few take part with propriety in the women's meetings, and yet you look in vain among them all for one happy face. they wear a beaten and abused look, as if blows and cruelty had been their daily lot, as if they lived even only by sufferance. this is the settled look of their faces when in repose. but speak to them; let the missionary tell them you are their friend; and their eyes light up with a gentle gladness, showing that a true womanly soul only slumbers in them. this came out beautifully at a later point in the meeting. a motion was about to be put, when some one insisted that on that question the women should express their minds. this was cordially assented to, and they were requested to stand with the men in a rising vote. the girls, of course, giggled; but the women modestly rose in their places, and it was worth a trip all the way from chicago to see the look of innocent pride into which their sad faces were for once surprised. "but sermon is done. there is another loud-voiced hymn, and then the meeting of days is declared duly opened. it is to be a composite, a session of presbytery, for they happen to have taken that form, and a conference of churches. a leading candidate for moderator is ehnamane, a santee pastor. how far the fact that he is a great hunter and a famous paddleman affects the vote we can not say. this may have had more weight: his father was a great conjurer and war prophet. before he died he said to his son:-- "'the white man is coming into the country, and your children may learn to read. but promise me that you will never leave the religion of your ancestors.' "he promised. and he says now that had the minnesota outbreak not come, in which his gods were worsted by the white man's god, he would have kept true to his pledge. as it is, he now preaches the faith which once he destroyed, and they make him moderator. "we will not follow the meeting throughout the days. there are resolutions and motions to amend and all that, just like white folks, and plenty of speech-making. now a telling hit sends a ripple of laughter through the room; and now the moistened eyes and trembling lip tell that some deep vein of feeling has been touched. grave questions are under discussion: _pastoral support_, opening out into general benevolence; _pastoral visitation_, its necessity, methods, difficulties, and also as a work pertaining to elders, deacons, and to the whole membership; _primary education_--shall it be in the vernacular or in english? a most spirited debate, resulting in this: '_resolved_, that so long as the children speak the dakota at home, education should be _begun_ in the dakota.' then the _iapi oaye_, the _word carrier_--for they have their newspaper, and it has its financial troubles--comes up. all rally to its support. but the hundred-dollar deficit for last year, _that_, we suspect, comes out of the missionaries' meagre salaries. all along certain more strictly ecclesiastical matters are mingled in. james red-wing is brought forward to be approbated as a preacher at fort sully. an application is considered for forming a new church on the sisseton reserve. the church at white banks asks aid for a church building, and a yankton elder is examined and received as a candidate for the ministry. the indians, in large numbers, share freely in all these deliberations. everything is decorous and dignified, sometimes evidently intensely interesting, we the while burning to know what they are saying, and getting the general drift only through a friendly whisper in the ear. while they are discussing, we will make a few notes: about one-third of these before us were imprisoned for the massacre of , although, probably, none of them took active part in it. the larger portion of them were made freemen of the lord in that great prison revival at mankato, as a result of which joined the church in one day. they were also of that number who, when being transferred by steamer to davenport, 'passed st. paul in chains, indeed, but singing the fifty-first psalm, to the tune of old hundred. seven of these men are regularly ordained ministers, pastors of as many churches; two others are licentiate preachers. quite a number are teachers, deacons, elders, or delegates of the nine churches belonging to the mission, and they report a goodly fellowship of dakota members, of whom have come into the fold since the last meeting. "two or three of these men are of some historic note. john b. renville, who sits at the scribe's desk, was the main one in inaugurating the counter revolution in the hostilities of . yonder is peter big-fire, who, by his address, turned the war party from the trail of the fleeing missionaries. and there is gray-cloud, for five years in the united states army, a sergeant of scouts; and chaskadan, the elder brewster of the prison church; and lewis mazawakinyanna, formerly chaplain among the fort scouts, now pastor of mayasan church, and hokshidanminiamani, once a conjurer, now no longer raising spirits in the teepee, but humbly seeking to be taught of the divine spirit;--and all these--ah! our eyes fill with tears as we think that but for the blessed gospel they would still be worshipers of devils. "the meeting is adjourned, and the brethren are coming forward to greet us. we never grasped hands with a heartier good-will. but somehow our sense of humor will not be altogether quiet as, one after another, we are introduced to elder big-fire, rev. mr. all-good, deacon boy-that-walks-on-the-water, pastor little-iron-thunder, elder gray-cloud, and rev. mr. stone-that-paints-itself-red. but they are grand men, and their names are quite as euphonious as some english ones we could pick out. "while supper is preparing, we will look a moment at a phase of tent life. a sudden gust of wind has blown over two of the large teepees. and now they are to be set up again. one is occupied by the men, the other by the women. under the old régime the women do all this kind of work. but now the men are willing to try their hand at it, at least upon their own tent. it is new work, however, and, while they are making futile attempts at tying together the ends of the first three poles, the mothers and wives have theirs already up and nearly covered. at length a broad-chested woman steps over among them, strips off their ill tied strings, repacks the ends of the poles, and with two or three deft turns binds them fast, and all with a kind of nervous contempt as if she were saying--she probably is: 'oh, you stupid fellows!' the after work does not seem to be much more successful, and they stand around in a helpless sort of way, while the young women are evidently bantering them with good-natured jests, much as a bevy of white girls would do in seeing a man vainly trying to stitch on a missing button, each new bungling mistake drawing the fire of the fair enemy in a fresh explosion of laughter. how the thing comes out we do not stay to see, but we suspect that the practised hands of the good women finally come to the rescue. "sunday is the chief day of interest, and yet there is less to report about that. in the morning, at nine o'clock, rev. a. l. riggs conducts a model bible class, with remarks on the art of questioning. at the usual hour of service the church is crowded, and rev. solomon toonkanshaichiye preaches, we doubt not, a most excellent sermon. immediately following is the sacrament of the lord's supper with the fathers of the mission, revs. dr. riggs and williamson officiating, a tender and solemn scene, impressive even to us who understand no single word of the service, for grave indian deacons reverently pass the elements; and many receive them which but for a knowledge of this dear sacrifice might have reckoned it their chief glory that their hands were stained with human blood. "just as we close, in strange contrast with the spirit of the hour, two young indian braves go by the windows. they are tricked out with all manner of savage frippery. ribbons stream in the wind, strings of discordant sleigh-bells grace their horses' necks and herald their approach. each carries a drawn sword which flashes in the sunlight, and a plentiful use of red ochre and eagles' feathers completes the picture. as they ride by on their scrawny little ponies the effect is indescribably absurd. but they think it very fine, and, like their cousins, the white fops, have simply come to show themselves. "in the afternoon is an english service, and then one wholly conducted by the natives themselves. no evening meetings are held, as these people that rise with the birds are not far behind them in going to their rest. on monday the business is finished, and the farewells are said. and on tuesday morning the various delegations start for their distant homes. "we have no space to speak of the meeting of the mission proper. it was held at mr. williamson's house during the evenings. nearly all its members were present,--a delightful reunion it was to them and us,--and many questions of serious interest were amply discussed. "we dare not trust our pen to write about these noble men and women as we would. the results of their labors abundantly testify for them, and their record is on high. may they receive an hundredfold for their work of faith, and labor of love, and patience of hope in our lord jesus christ." chapter xix. - .--the american board at minneapolis.--the _nidus_ of the dakota mission.--large indian delegation.--ehnamane and mazakootemane.--"then and now."--the woman's meeting.--nina foster riggs and lizzie bishop--miss bishop's work and early death.--manual labor boarding-school at sisseton.--building dedicated.--m. n. adams, agent.--school opened.--mrs. armor and mrs. morris.--"my darling in god's garden."--visit to fort berthold.--mandans, rees, and hidatsa.--dr. w. matthews' hidatsa grammar.--beliefs.--missionary interest in berthold.--down the missouri.--annual meeting at santee.--normal school.--dakotas build a church at ascension.--journey to the ojibwas with e. p. wheeler.--leech lake and red lake,--on the gitche gumme.--"the stoneys."--visit to odanah.--hope for ojibwas. the american board of commissioners for foreign missions was to hold its annual meeting in the autumn of in the city of minneapolis. that was almost the identical spot where our mission had been commenced, nearly forty years before. and it was comparatively near to the centre of our present work. these were reasons why we should make a special effort to bring the dakota mission, on this occasion, prominently before this great christian gathering. our churches on the sisseton reservation were only a little more than miles away. taking advantage of the st. paul & pacific railroad, it would only be a three-days journey. accordingly, i applied to my friend gen. geo. l. becker of st. paul, who was then president of the road, to send me half-fares for a dozen dakota men. he generously responded, and sent me up a free pass down for that number. this made it possible for all the churches on the sisseton reservation to be represented by pastors and elders. a. l. riggs brought over a good delegation from the santee, so that we had there seventeen of our most prominent men. the present missionaries and assistant missionaries of the board, except mr. and mrs. morris, were all there. our brother john p. williamson was engaged in church-building, and could not attend. but there were the pond brothers and dr. t. s. williamson accepting with glad hearts the results of their labors commenced thirty-nine years before. and the presence of so large an indian delegation added much to the popular interest of the occasion. so that the subject of indian missions in general, and of the dakota mission in particular, engaged the attention of this great meeting for about one-third of their time. artemas ehnamane, the pastor of pilgrim church at santee, and paul mazakootemane, the hero of the outbreak of , both made addresses before the board, which were interpreted by a. l. riggs. in the dakota _word carrier_, we were at this time publishing a series of "sketches of the dakota mission," which we gathered into a pamphlet and distributed to the thousands of christian friends gathered there. number twelve of these sketches is mainly a contrast between the commencement and the present state of our work among the dakotas, from which i make the following extract:-- "then and now. "in the first days of july, , a severe battle was fought between the dakotas and ojibwas. the ojibwas had visited fort snelling during the last days of june, expecting to receive some payment for land sold. in this they were disappointed. the evening before they started for their homes--a part going up the mississippi, and a part by the st. croix--two young men were observed to go to the soldiers' burying-ground, near the fort, and cry. their father had been killed some years before by the dakotas, and was buried there. the next morning they started for their homes; but these two young men, their people not knowing it, went out and hid themselves that night close by a path which wound around the shores of lake harriet. in the early morning following, a dakota hunter walked along that path, followed by a boy. the man was shot down, and the boy escaped to tell the story. "during their stay in the neighborhood of fort snelling, the ojibwas had smoked and eaten with the dakotas. that scalped man now lying by lake harriet was an evidence of violated faith. the dakotas were eager to take advantage of the affront. the cry was for vengeance; and before the sun had set, two parties were on the war-path. "the young man who had been killed was the son-in-law of _cloud-man_, the chief of the lake calhoun village. _scarlet bird_ was the brother-in-law of the chief. so _scarlet bird_ was the leader of the war-party which came to where the city of minneapolis is now built, and about the setting of the sun crossed over to the east side; and there, seating the warriors in a row on the sand, he distributed the beads and ribbons and other trinkets of the man who had been killed, and with them '_prayed_' the whole party into committing the deeds of the next morning. the morning's sun, as it arose, saw these same men smiting down the ojibwas, just after they had left camp, in the region of rum river. scarlet bird was among the slain on the dakota side; and a son of his, whom he had goaded into the battle by calling him a woman, was left on the field. many ojibwa scalps were taken, and all through that autumn and into the following winter the scalp dance was danced nightly at every dakota village on the mississippi and minnesota rivers, as far up as lac-qui-parle. "that was the condition of things then. between then and now there is a contrast. then only a small government saw-mill stood where now stand mammoth mills, running hundreds of saws. then only a soldiers' little dwelling stood where now are the palaces of merchant princes. then only the war-whoop of the savage was heard where now, in this year of grace, , a little more than a third of a century after, is heard the voice of praise and prayer in numerous christian sanctuaries and a thousand christian households. then it was the gathering-place of the nude and painted war-party; now it is the gathering-place of the friends of the american board of commissioners for foreign missions. then the dusky forms of the dakotas flitted by in the gloaming, bent on deeds of blood; now the same race is here largely represented by pastors of native churches and teachers of the white man's civilization and the religion of christ. _and the marvelous change that has passed over this country, converting it from the wild abode of savages into the beautiful land of christian habitations, is only surpassed by the still more marvelous change that has been wrought upon those savages themselves._ the greater part of the descendants of the indians who once lived here are now in christian families, and have been gathered into christian churches, having their native pastors. some, too, have gone beyond to the still wild portions of their own people, and are commencing there such a work as we commenced, nearly forty years ago, among their fathers here. "but the work is now commenced among the teetons of the missouri, under circumstances vastly different from those which surrounded us in its beginning here. then, with an unwritten language, imperfectly understood and spoken stammeringly by foreigners, the gospel was proclaimed to unwilling listeners. now, with the perfect knowledge of the language learned in the wigwam, a comparatively large company of native men and women are engaged in publishing it. many ears are still unwilling to listen, and the hearts of the wild indians are only a very little opened to the good news; but the contrast between the past and present is very great." * * * * * while this meeting of the american board was in progress, the ladies of the woman's boards held a meeting, which was reported as full of interest. so many women publishers of the word in all parts of the world were present that the enthusiasm and christ-spirit rose very high. nina foster riggs, who had just arrived from fort sully, the center of dakota heathendom, announced her wish for a female companion in labor there. several young women present said, "i will go." from these, miss lizzie bishop of northfield, minn., was afterward selected. her health was not vigorous, but she and her friends thought it might become more so in the missouri river climate. she at once proceeded with t. l. riggs and wife to hope station. there i met her for the first time in the first of the june following. she impressed me as a singularly pure-minded and devoted young woman. two teeton boys in the family belonged to her especial charge. she said she found the lord's prayer in dakota too difficult of comprehension for their use, and desired me to make something more simple. i sat down and wrote a child's prayer, of which this is a translation:-- "my father, god, have mercy on me; now i will sleep; watch over me: if i die before the morning, take me to thyself. for thy son jesus' sake, these i ask of thee." [illustration: mary and i.] miss bishop's missionary work for the teeton sioux was soon over. but i will let nina foster riggs tell the story: "after the meeting of the american board in minneapolis, in october, , miss elizabeth bishop of northfield, minn., entered the dakota work. "two years later, at the next western meeting of the society, and during the session of the woman's board of missions, her death was announced. of the intervening twelve months twice told, it falls to my lot to speak, and i attempt the task with mingled feelings, for i know it is impossible to do justice to the beauty of lizzie's character. "young, delicate, already suffering with a disease which made her to be over-fastidious in some things, sensitive to the discomforts of frontier life, and inexperienced in its ways of living, she came into the mission work. "these hindrances were met and more than overbalanced by her singleness of purpose, her even temper, her devotion to her chosen labor, and her unwavering trust in jesus. "the first winter of her stay at hope station, on the bank of the missouri river, opposite fort sully, was a winter of trial and of danger. indians had threatened to burn the mission house. hostile ones crowded about the place, the camps were noisy with singing and dancing in preparation for war-parties, and once a shot was fired into the house. "none of these things disturbed lizzie. 'i do not _choose_ to be killed by the indians,' she said, 'but if the lord wills it so, it is all right.' and she went on as usual with her housework and her sewing-school, and the care of the two indian boys who were taken into the family in the spring. while she taught the sewing-class, several little girls, some six or eight, made dresses of linsey-woolsey for themselves; and then, under miss bishop's supervision, combed their hair, bathed, and put on clean clothes. she also instructed several women in some branches of housework, and was always looking for the opportunity of doing good. "very early in the winter she had a slight hemorrhage from the lungs, which was followed by others more severe at intervals through the summer. but she still kept up. "in the fall, after the removal to another mission station, her health gave way, and she was obliged to go to the fort to rest and recuperate. after her return she was able to resume only a part of her former work; but she carried on, with great enthusiasm, the morning school for children, and aided somewhat in the sewing-school. "although, as the spring advanced, her health failed more and more, yet her courage would not give way, and she never but once expressed the opinion that she should not recover. her plan had been to spend this second summer in her own home, though sometimes she was almost ready to stay on and work for 'my boys,' as she called them. "finally, she concluded to go to minnesota for the summer, but made every arrangement to return to the mission in the fall. after some hesitation because of her delicate health, she decided to make the journey with our mission party overland, down the country. so she took the trip, enjoyed every day, and declared she felt better and slept better every night. "the party camped out over the sabbath, and on monday evening, the seventh day after leaving fort sully, arrived at the yankton agency. here, at the mission home of our friend j. p. williamson, the welcome was so warm, and the companionship so pleasant, that miss bishop desired to spend a few days longer than she had intended. she wanted to visit the schools, and learn both here and at santee agency something to help her when she should go back to teach the indian children on the upper missouri. so she stayed behind, full of hope and zeal. but her friends parted from her with foreboding in their hearts. in a few days she was again attacked with her old trouble; she rallied so as to get to her home, and to be again with her mother and sister. but she sank rapidly, and, after some weeks of severe suffering, she entered into rest. "writing of her, her sister said: 'her favorite motto was, "simply to thy cross i cling." she trusted in christ because he has promised to save all who come to him. she enjoyed hearing us sing to the last such hymns as, "jesus, lover of my soul," "nearer, my god, to thee," "my faith looks up to thee," "father, whate'er of earthly bliss," "how firm a foundation," and others.' "resting on him who is able to save, she passed away. "the work she loved, and so conscientiously carried on, has fallen to other hands, but is not finished nor lost; and in the homes she helped to make happy she is missed, yet her memory is an abiding presence, cheering and encouraging. "'and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the lord, and that thought upon his name. and they shall be mine, saith the lord of hosts, in that day when i make up my jewels.'[ ]" [ ] mention should be made here of rev. samuel ingham and his wife, who joined the missionary force at santee immediately after the meeting of the board at minneapolis. mr. ingham was suffering at the time from what was considered a temporary malady, but which proved serious and ended his life dec. , . mrs. ingham continued in her work in the "dakota home," the new school for girls. the commencement of the manual labor boarding-school on the sisseton reserve was an event which indicated progress. agent m. n. adams had received authority from the department to erect a suitable building. on the th of september, , the foundation walls were so far completed that the _corner-stone_ was laid with appropriate ceremonies. there was quite a gathering of the natives and white people on the reservation. after prayer in dakota by pastor solomon, mr. adams made a speech, which was interpreted, setting forth the advantages that would accrue to this people from such a school as this building contemplated. he then announced that he had in his hands copies of the bible in dakota and english, and a dakota hymn book, together with eight numbers of the _iapi oaye_, a copy of the _st. paul press_, and a yankton paper, and also sundry documents, all of which he deposited in the place prepared for them. i added a few remarks, and then the corner-stone was laid and pronounced _level_. speeches followed from solomon, john b., and daniel renville, pastors; and from robert hopkins, two stars, and gabriel renville. they accepted this as the guarantee of progress in the new era on which they had entered. that autumn the boarding-school was commenced. as only a part of the building could be made habitable for the winter, the girls alone were placed there, under the care and teaching of mr. and mrs. armor. mr. and mrs. morris took the boys and cared for them, in very close quarters, at the mission, only a little way off. in the summer of there appeared in the word carrier articles on "our girls," and "our boys," written by mrs. armor and mrs. morris, respectively. in each department they had about sixteen. mrs. armor classed her scholars as _large girls_, _little girls_, and _very little girls_. that first year was a good beginning of the school. mrs. morris was willing to undertake the hard work these sixteen boys imposed upon her, because she had just met with a great sorrow. she had gone on east with _two_ children, and came back with only _one_. "as i sit and mend," she writes, "the alarming holes which the boys make in their clothes, an unbidden tear sometimes falls when i think of _our_ blue-eyed, sunny-haired boy, whose last resting-place is in the valley of the susquehanna. and i think how much rather i would have worked for him than for these boys. but i say to myself, '_my darling is safe and out of reach of harm_'; and these boys need the doing for that my darling one will never need more. for "' mine in god's garden runs to and fro, and that is best.' and i know that somehow the lord knows what is best; and he does as he will with his own." * * * * * in the early spring of , i was requested jointly by the american board and the american missionary association to visit and report upon various indians agencies, where their appointees, or nominees rather, were agents. accordingly, i started in the month of may, by st. paul, on the northern pacific railroad, to bismarck, and thence by steamboat up the missouri to fort berthold. at this time major l. b. sperry, who had been a professor in ripon college, was the nominee of the american missionary association. it was not my good fortune to find agent sperry at home, but mrs. sperry, in a very ladylike way, gave me the best accommodations during the week i remained. here were gathered the remnant of the mandans, only a few hundred persons, and the rees, or arricarees, a part of the pawnee tribe, and the gros ventres, or minnetaree, properly the hidatsa. altogether they numbered about two thousand souls. we had before this entertained the desire that we might be able to establish a mission among these people, and this thought or hope gave interest to my visit. the mandan and the hidatsa languages were both pretty closely connected with the dakota; but what seemed to bring these nearer to us was the fact that many of all these people could understand and talk the dakota, that forming a kind of common language for them. _howard mandan_, or "the-man-with-a-_scared-face_," as his indian name is interpreted, was the son of _red cow_, the principal chief of the mandans, and had been taken down by gen. c. h. howard, a year before, and placed in a. l. riggs' school at santee. howard had returned home before my visit, and also henry eaton, a hidatsa young man, who had been east a good many years and talked english well. george catlin had, many years ago, interested us in the mandans, by his effort to prove, from their _red hair_ in some cases--perhaps only _redded_ hair--and in some instances blue eyes, and the resemblances which he claims to have found in their languages, that they were the descendants of a welsh colony that had dropped out of history a thousand years ago. and dr. washington matthews of the united states army had created in us a desire to do something for the spiritual enlightenment of the hidatsa, by his admirable grammar and dictionary of their language. in his introduction to this book he gives us much valuable information about the people. hidatsa, he tells us, is the name by which they call themselves. they are better known to us by the names minnetaree and gros ventre. this last is a name given them by the canadian french, and without any special reason. it is a fact that indians can eat large quantities of food, but it is very rarely indeed that you will find one whose appearance would justify the epithet _gros ventre_. the other term, minnetaree, is the name given them by the mandans, and means, _to cross the water_. the story is that when the hidatsa people came to the missouri river from the north-east, the mandan village was on the west side of the river. they called over, and the mandans answered back in their own language: "who are you?" the hidatsa, not understanding it, supposed they had asked, "what do you want?" and so replied; "_minnetaree, to cross over the water_." whence came the hidatsa? their legend says they originally lived _under_ a great body of water which lies far to the north-east of where they now live. from this under-water residence some persons found their way out, and, discovering a country much better than the one in which they lived, returned and gave to their people such glowing accounts of their discoveries that the whole nation determined to come out. but, owing to the breaking of a tree on which they were climbing out of the lake, a great part of the tribe had to remain behind in the water, and they are there yet. this is very much like the myth of another tribe, who lived under the ground by a lake. a large grape-vine sent its tap-root through the crust of the earth, and by that they commenced to climb out. but a very fat woman taking hold of the vine, it broke, and the remainder were doomed to stay where they were. do such legends contain any reference to the great deluge? after the hidatsa came up, they commenced a series of wanderings over the prairies. during their migrations they were often ready to die of hunger, but were always rescued by the interference of their deity. it was not manna rained down around their camp, but the stones of the prairie were miraculously changed into buffalo, which they killed and ate. after some time they sent couriers to the south, who came back with the news that they had found a great river and a fertile valley, wherein dwelt a people who lived in houses and tilled the ground. they brought back corn and other products of the country. to this beautiful and good land the tribe now directed their march, and, guided by their messengers they reached the mandan villages on the missouri river. with them they camped and learned their peaceful arts. dr. matthews says they have a tradition that during these years of wandering the genius of the sun took up one of the hidatsa maidens, and their offspring came back, and, under the name of grand-child, was the great prophet and teacher of his mother's people. can that have any reference to the "son of man"? these indians, the mandans, the hidatsa, and the rees, live in one village at berthold, in all numbering something over two thousand; and they have lived together, as we know, more than a hundred years, and yet the languages are kept perfectly distinct and separate. many of them learn each other's language; and many of them talk dakota also. "many years ago they were considered ripe for the experiments of civilization; they stand to-day just as fit subjects as ever for the experiment, which never has been, and possibly never will be, tried." this is dr. matthews' statement. let us hope that the latter part may not be prophetic. "they worship a deity," says dr. matthews, "whom they call 'the first made' or 'the first existence.'" sometimes they speak of him as "the old man immortal." they believe in _shades_ or _ghosts_, which belong not only to men, but to animals and trees and everything. "in the 'next world' _human shades_ hunt and live on the shades of the buffalo and other animals who have lived here. whether the shade of the buffalo then ceases to exist or not, i could find none prepared to tell me; but they seem to have a dim faith in shades of shades, and in shadow-lands of shade-lands; belief in a shadowy immortality being the basis of their creed." by all these means our interest in fort berthold and its people grew, and we became impatient of delay. but step by step we were led by the hand of the lord, until at the meeting of the american board in chicago in the autumn of , after an animated discussion on indian missions, and the debt of the board was lifted by a special effort, secretary s. b. treat arose and said: "we are ready to send a man to fort berthold." the man and the woman, charles l. hall and emma calhoun, were ready, and the next spring they were commissioned to make their home among the mandans, arickarees and hidatsa. on leaving berthold in may, , i proceeded down the missouri to bismarck, where i was subjected to considerable delay; and then stopping a few days with thomas at hope station, and making a short call at the yankton agency, i went to the santee to attend our annual meeting of the dakota conference, which commenced its sessions with the pilgrim church on the th of june. a. l. riggs had put up in large characters the motto of the meeting-- - . thus we were reminded that forty years had passed since the brothers pond had made their _log cabin_ on the banks of lake calhoun. these gray-headed men were expected to have been present on this occasion, but were not. t. l. riggs and wife could not come down. otherwise the attendance of whites and indians was good. the presence of rev. joseph ward of yankton, and of mrs. wood, the mother of mrs. ward, and also of rev. de witt clark of massachusetts, greatly added to the interest. the question discussed by the native brethren with the most eagerness was, "shall the eldership receive any money compensation?" this had come up to be a question solely because such native church helpers were receiving compensation among the episcopalians. but our folks decided against it by an overwhelming vote. so full an account has been given of the like meeting held a year previous, that this, which was in most respects equally interesting, may be passed over. of the school here during the winter past, the _word carrier_ had contained this notice: "the normal school of the dakota mission at santee agency has had a prosperous winter session, notwithstanding the dark days last fall, when its doors were closed, and many of its former pupils removed beyond the reach of earthly training by the small-pox." the whole number of scholars for the winter three months was _eighty-five_. after this meeting closed, i spent six weeks with the churches in my own part of the field on the sisseton reservation. i found the people at ascension church, j. b. renville pastor, in the midst of church building. their log church had become too small, and they had for a year been preparing to build a larger and better house of worship. mr. adams took a great interest in this enterprise, and helped them much by obtaining contributions and otherwise. the dakota men and women also took hold of it as their own work, and the house went up, and was so far finished before the winter that its dedication took place about the middle of december. the cost of the house was then given at $ . two or three hundred more were afterward used in its internal completion. this was a great step forward. _dakota christians build_, with but little help, _their own house of worship_! about the middle of august i left sisseton to complete my work of visiting indian agencies, which i had undertaken to do for the american missionary association. at st. paul i was joined by rev. edward payson wheeler, who was just from andover seminary. he was the son of the missionary wheeler who had spent his life with the ojibwas, at bad river. he had learned the language in his boyhood, and i was only too happy to have as my companion of the journey one who was at home among the ojibwas. from st. paul we went up the lake superior road until we reached the northern pacific, on which we traveled westward to brainerd, and then took stage seventy miles to leech lake. there we found white friends and ojibwas, to whom we preached, mr. wheeler trying the language he had not used for years. we then proceeded by private conveyance, over a miserable road through the pine woods, to red lake. rev. mr. spees and wife, who were there doing work under the american missionary association, and agent pratt received us kindly. my friend wheeler talked with the indians--the old men remembered his father, and seemed to warm very much toward the son. it appeared to me that there was a grand opening for an educational work and preaching the gospel. when we left red lake, i fully believed that e. p. wheeler would return there as a missionary before the snow fell. but i was disappointed. the american missionary association was heavily in debt, and had no disposition whatever to enlarge work among the indians. we then returned by the way we came, and went on to duluth, where we took a steamer on the gitche gumme (lake superior) for bayfield. on the downlake steamer we formed the acquaintance of rev. john mcdougall, a methodist minister, who, with his family, was going to the canadian conference, from the far-off country of the saskatchawan. for more than a quarter of a century he had been a missionary among the crees and bloods and piegans. but what interested me most was the account he gave of a small band of about seven hundred indians called stoneys. they talk the dakota language, and, as their name indicates, they are evidently a branch of the assinaboines. the name assinaboine means stone sioux, and is a compound of french and ojibwa. the last part is bwan, which is the name the ojibwas give the dakotas or sioux. these stoneys are said to be all christians. they have their school-house and church, and rev. john mcdougall, son of the old gentleman, is their missionary. they live on bow river, which, i suppose, is a branch of the saskatchawan, about two hundred miles north-west from fort benton, and one hundred north of the canada line. to us who labor among the dakotas, it is very cheering to know that this small outlier of the fifty thousand dakota-speaking people have all received the gospel. we clap our hands for joy. landing at bayfield, we were kindly received by the indian agent dr. isaac mahan. nestled among the hills, and looking out into the bay filled with the apostle islands, this town has rather a romantic position. and just out a little way, on magdalen island, is la pointe, the old mission station. we passed around it in a sail-boat on our way to odanah. very soon after reaching bayfield, we found a boat going over to odanah, which, i understand, is the ojibwa for town or village, and which is the name by which the mission station on bad river has long been known. as i entered the boat, mr. wheeler introduced me to the ojibwa men who were to take us over. when i shook hands with one of them, he said, "my father, mr. riggs." was he calling me his father, or was it the indian? i wondered which, but asked no questions. two or three days after, i learned that adoption was one of the ojibwa customs, and that when mr. wheeler was a little boy this man lost his boy. he came to the mission and said to the missionary, "my boy is gone; you have a great many boys; let me call this one mine." and so they said he might so call him; and from that time edward payson wheeler became the adopted child of an ojibwa. now, after he had been gone ten years, going away a boy and coming back a man, they all seemed to regard him like a son and a brother. it was very interesting for me to see how they all warmed toward him. they came to see him, and wanted him to go to their houses. they all wanted to talk with him; and when we came to leave, they all flocked to the mission to shake hands, and to have a last word and a prayer; and they gave him more _muckoks_ of _manomin_ (wild rice) than he could bring away with him. for four days we were the guests of the boarding-school which is in charge of rev. isaac baird. we became much interested in the school and the teachers--mrs. baird, miss harriet newell phillips, miss verbeek, miss dougherty, and miss walker. naturally, i should be prejudiced in favor of the dakotas, but i was obliged to confess that i had not seen anywhere twenty-five boys and girls better-looking and more manly and womanly in their appearance than those ojibwas. the whole community gave evidence of the good work done by the school in past years--many of the grown folks being able to talk english quite well. but there was one impression that came to me without bidding--it was that civilization had been pressed farther and faster than evangelization. while houses and other improvements attested a great deal of labor expended, the native church is quite small, only now numbering about twenty-eight, and the _metawa_, their sacred heathen dance, was danced while we were there, within a stone's-throw of the church. my spirit was stirred within me, and i said to the members of that native church that they ought so to take up the work of evangelizing their own people in good earnest that the dancing of the _metawa_ thus publicly would become an impossibility. my visit to various points in the ojibwa country has interested me very greatly. from what i have seen and heard, the conviction grew upon me that the whole ojibwa field, comprising thirteen or fourteen thousand people in the states of wisconsin and minnesota, is now open to the gospel as it never has been before. the old laborers sowed the good seed, but they saw little fruit. no wonder they became discouraged. for years the field was almost entirely given up. but, although the servants retired, the master watched the work, and here and there the seed has taken root and sprung up. this appears in the new desire prevailing that they may again have schools and missionaries. shall we not take advantage of this favorable time to tell them of jesus the saviour? chapter xx. - .--annual meeting of .--homestead settlement on the big sioux.--interest of the conference.--_iapi oaye._--inception of native missionary work.--theological class.--the dakota home.--charles l. hall ordained.--dr. magoun of iowa.--mr. and mrs. hall sent to berthold by the american board.--_the word carrier's_ good words to them.--the conference of .--in j. b. renville's church.--coming to the meeting from sully.--miss whipple's story.--"dakota missionary society."--miss collins' story.--impressions of the meeting. more and more the important events of the year culminate in, and are brought out by, the meeting of our annual conference. heretofore this gathering had been in june. in the year , it was held in september, at the homestead settlement on the big sioux. only four years had passed since we were here before, but in this time great changes had taken place. they had erected a log church, and outgrown it, and sold it to the government for a school-house, and had just completed, or nearly completed, a commodious frame building. in this our meetings were held. their farms and dwelling-houses had also greatly improved. in several of these years they had been visited by the grasshoppers, and by this visitation they had lost their crops. but they held on--somewhat discouraged, it is true. when their prospects and hopes from mother earth failed, they went to hunting, and thus they had worked along. this year they had a fair crop, and by exerting themselves they were able to entertain more than a hundred dakota guests. besides what they could furnish from their own farms, they had raised about $ in money, which they expended in fresh beef. thus they made princely provision for the meeting, which was, as usual, rich and full of interest. our conference meetings began on the afternoon of thursday, sept. , and by that time we were all on the ground and ready. we had journeyed, camping by the way, some over from the missouri and others down from the head of the coteau. the native delegates and visitors were encamped by the river-side, convenient to wood and water and the place of meeting. the missionaries pitched their tents by the house and enjoyed the hospitality of p. a. vannice and his good wife. at the time appointed we gathered at the church and had a sermon by one of the native pastors--louis. then came the business organization, followed by short speeches of greeting and welcome. on the following day the real work of the conference began. questions relating to the proper training and education of children, and the training and preparation needful for the ministry, were discussed with interest and profit. the next day, which was saturday, was taken up in the discussion of two prominent subjects of interest--the homestead act in its relation to indians, and our dakota paper. on the first of these topics there was a full and healthy expression of opinion. it was said that the plan of depending on the government for support tended to bad. said ehnamane: "if when we are hungry we cry out to our great father 'give us food,' or when we are cold we say, 'send us clothes,' we become as little children--we are not men. here at this place we see that each man takes care of himself; he has a farm and a house, and some have a cow and a few chickens. we go into their houses and we see tables and chairs, and when they eat they spread a cloth over the table, as do white people, and there are curtains to the windows, and we see the women dressed like white women--here we find men. we who look to the government for food and clothing are not men but little children, and the longer we depend on the government the lower down we find ourselves." others differed: they said one could grow into manhood anywhere supported by the government or caring for themselves. besides, it would not do to be too confident. it was hard work to strike out alone; some had starved, some had been frozen to death, and others had turned back. it means _work_ to become a self-supporting citizen. perhaps there was as much real feeling expressed when the _iapi oaye_ was discussed as at any other time during conference. last year it was hoped that by another year the paper would become self-sustaining. owing to several reasons, however, the subscription receipts for the past year are very much smaller than for the year previous, necessitating the meeting of a considerable deficiency by the missionaries themselves. it was thought best for our native membership to know the facts in order to stimulate action, lest we be obliged to discontinue the paper. however, they would listen to nothing of that kind. the paper has so strong a hold on the people as to be almost a necessity, and thereby a means of great and growing good. sabbath morning was devoted to communion services, and the native delegates and visitors from other stations united with their brothers at flandreau around the table of our lord. in the afternoon we had a grand missionary meeting, which was the closing of the conference. speeches were made by the fathers in the mission and by the older native membership, contrasting the darkness of the past with the light of the present. it seemed, as we listened to the words of joy and thanksgiving spoken by those who have come up from heathenism, that the cup of joy and gladness must be full to overflowing for the fathers of our mission, who went through the great trials and dangers of early days, and who are permitted to look upon the wonderful success of their lives spent thus in the master's service. the last topic discussed had somewhat of a history. some time during the year before, it had been published that the american board had _great-grandchildren_. the mission to the sandwich islands had commenced christian work on the marquesas, and they again had extended it to other islands. in an article which dr. williamson furnished to the _iapi oaye_, under the heading of "children and grandchildren," he recited these facts. a month or two afterward, i wrote an article on the "children of grandchildren," in which i said i was thankful for children, but wanted grandchildren. these statements worked like leaven in some of the natives' minds. david gray cloud, who opened the subject of missionary work to be undertaken by the native churches, had been stimulated thereby. the whole assembly seemed to be ready to take the first steps in the organization of a native foreign mission society. a committee was appointed for that object, consisting of j. p. williamson, a. l. riggs, john b. renville, robert hopkins, and iron track. in the meantime, the churches were exhorted to take up collections for the foreign mission fund. in the beginning of the year , at the santee agency, in connection with the mission training school, a theological class was organized. for a few years past we have been realizing more and more the want of a higher education in our native pastors and preachers. to supply this defect, and prepare the young men who are coming up to the work to fill the places of the fathers with a higher grade of scholarship, and especially with a more thorough knowledge and appreciation of bible truth, this plan was undertaken. it is only a beginning. the regular class consisted of john eastman, eli abraham, albert frazier, henry tawa, peter eyoodooze, and solomon chante, with rev. artemas ehnamane, the pastor of the santee church. some others have been in attendance on evening exercises. the object has been to give them as much knowledge and training as could be imparted and received in the limited space of four weeks, in bible geography and history, in the main doctrines of the christian faith, in the best methods of teaching bible truth, the founding and growth of the christian church, in its orders of laborers, in its ordinances, in its service, and in its benevolent and saving work. for the first two weeks of the term a. l. riggs was assisted by rev. j. p. williamson, from the yankton agency, which is the home of three of the young men attending the class. i had received an urgent invitation to come on from beloit to aid in the instructions of the last two weeks, which i quite willingly accepted. while at the santee on this visit, i became better acquainted with the working of the normal school, and especially of that part of it called the "dakota home." the following is a. l. riggs' description of it:-- "the dakota home is one of a group of buildings for educational purposes belonging to the dakota mission, at their principal educational center, santee agency, nebraska. it was built by the funds of the woman's board of missions, at a cost of about $ . it was commenced in , but not completely finished until , although it has been in use from the first. "it is a large, well proportioned frame-building, two stories high, and forty-two by forty-eight feet on the ground. on the first floor is the teachers' suite of rooms, the large dining-hall, which is also sewing and sitting-room for the girls, the home kitchen, and the necessary pantries and closets. underneath is the commodious cellar and milk-room. "in the second story are the dormitories. there are ten sleeping-rooms and a bath-room. each room is intended to be occupied by only two girls, though three of them can accommodate four, if necessary. every sleeping-room is automatically and thoroughly ventilated without opening a door or window." "the object of the dakota home is to train up housekeepers for the future dakota homes. hence our effort is to train them into the knowledge and habit of all home work, and to instil in them the principles of right action, and cultivate self-discipline. "they learn to cook and wash, sew and cut garments, weave, knit, milk, make butter, make beds, sweep floors, and anything else pertaining to housekeeping, and they can make _good_ bread. "at this time the home was in the charge of miss marie l. haines--since become mrs. joseph steer--and miss anna skea." before i left the santee, to return to my home in beloit, the ordination of mr. charles l. hall was announced to take place at yankton on the d of february, and i was sorry i could not remain and take part. the marriage of mr. hall and miss calhoun was consummated at the yankton agency a week previous to this time. for the ordination the congregational churches of yankton and springfield had united in calling the council. the call included the neighboring congregational churches and three of our native churches. the santee agency church was represented by pastor artemas ehnamane and deacon robert swift deer. the council convened in mr. ward's church. the venerable rev. charles seccombe of nebraska was moderator, and rev. a. d. adams of sioux falls was scribe. the sermon was preached by rev. geo. f. magoun, d.d., of iowa college, and his theme was "the christian ambassadorship." it was said to be a sermon worthy of the occasion and the preacher. it was eminently fitting that dr. magoun should preach the sermon on the sending off of this new mission. for among those who bore such effective testimony in behalf of indian missions, on the platform of the american board in chicago was president magoun. the ordaining prayer was made by rev. john p. williamson; the charge was given by rev. joseph ward, and the right hand of fellowship by rev. a. l. riggs. thus mr. and mrs. hall were set apart, and sent off to plant the standard of the cross at fort berthold, among the mandans and rees and hidatsa, at a point on the missouri fifteen hundred miles above its mouth. the _word carrier_ for april, , gave them the right hand of fellowship. it said: "they must be a part of us. they will, in fact, form a part of the dakota mission. we will work with them, by our prayers and sympathies and dakota books and native help, so far as they can use them." it said to them: "go and plant the standard of the cross at berthold, and 'hold the fort' for the master. you have the old promise, 'lo! i am with you all days.' it is ever new, and ever inspiring. and yet there may be dark days and lonesome nights perhaps. you will have to learn the way into dark human hearts, which must be done 'by the patience of hope, and the labor of love.' you will tell them, in the heart's language, of that strange love of the great father, who sent his son to seek and save the lost. you will entreat the holy spirit to beget in the hidatsa and ree and mandan people a soul-hunger that can only be satisfied with the bread and the water of life. and may the good lord keep you evermore, and give you showers of blessing." according to previous announcement in the _word carrier_, the fifth annual meeting of the dakota mission and conference of the native churches commenced its sessions on the afternoon of september , , in the new and beautiful church of ascension, j. b. renville pastor. the house was crowded. the delegations and visitors from yankton, santee, flandreau, and brown earth amounted to one hundred and six. the convention was opened with prayer and singing, rev. a. l. riggs and rev. david gray cloud, english and dakota secretaries, presiding. a new dakota hymn of welcome was sung by the choir and church, when words of welcome were spoken by pastor j. b. renville, and by agent j. g. hamilton of the sisseton agency, and by s. r. riggs. these were responded to by j. p. williamson, for the yanktons; by rev. artemas ehnamane, for the santees; and by rev. john eastman, for the large delegation from the big sioux. the conference then proceeded to make out the roll and perfect its organization. all the native pastors were present, with elders, and deacons, and teachers, and messengers from the churches, numbering together fifty-nine, and missionaries eleven. t. l. riggs and david gray cloud were chosen secretaries for the next two years. the conference then listened to an address on family worship from dr. t. s. williamson. from the speeches of welcome and the responses it was manifest that for months the convention has been looked forward to with great interest; all parties have come up to the meeting with joyful expectations. major j. g. hamilton, the representative of the government on this reserve, has made liberal arrangements to feed all the dakota visitors, for which he has our thanks in advance. rev. a. d. adams, pastor of the congregational church at sioux falls, we are glad to welcome to our hospitalities and discussions. although for the greater part of the time we were together the clouds were over us, and sometimes enveloped us, all the services were very largely attended; and on sabbath the crowd was so great that we were obliged to hold our morning service out-of-doors. the subjects brought before the conference for discussion were of vital practical interest, and were entered into with enthusiasm by the native speakers, and the action taken upon them was usually very satisfactory. while our meetings were in progress, there came a message to us from the white man's country, asking that our dakota churches unite with white christians all along the western border in a _prayer league_ against the grasshoppers. while sitting bull and the hostile dakotas are fighting with the white soldiers in one part of the country, and, it may be, by the cruelties of one side or both, bringing upon us this scourge from the hand of god, it is eminently fitting that the praying dakotas and the praying white people should together humble themselves before him. so said the dakotas. it will give variety and interest to the circumstances and proceedings of this meeting to have them recounted by others. miss emmaretta j. whipple's story. "the morning of september found the missionaries of bogue station, near fort sully, on their way to the annual meeting of the dakota mission. the party consisted of five--mr. and mrs. riggs, misses collins and whipple, and little theodore. the carriage was heavily loaded with articles needed for the overland journey, consisting of tent, tent-poles and pins, axe, gun, stove, cooking-utensils, provision-boxes, traveling-bags, blankets, and robes. "a number of the indians had promised to accompany them, but the coming council of the commissioners proved a greater attraction than the gathering together of their christian brethren, and they remained at home. "the day was cool but pleasant, and all enjoyed the ride, which gave them keen appetites for the dinner taken on the bank of the huhboju. in the afternoon mr. riggs shot some ducks, while others gathered willows to carry along for the night's fire, as at that camping-place there was no wood. "the second day proved to be the most eventful of the trip. a village of prairie-dogs was passed, a rabbit chased, and an antelope seen. but the great event was the _tip over_--not an ordinary upset, but a complete revolution of the carriage. the large grasses grew so thickly across the track that a deep rut was concealed from view; and had it been thought necessary to drive from the track, the bluff on one side and a water hole on the other would have prevented. "the upper part of the carriage was too heavy to keep its balance when the wheels went into the rut, and the whole outfit was precipitated six feet down the bank into the water hole, which, fortunately, was dry. mrs. riggs slipped from her seat and was held down by the provisions, boxes, and blankets, which fell upon her when the carriage passed over. mr. riggs found himself upon the axle-tree. miss collins gave a faint '_oh, oh!_' and said, 'don't hurt the baby.' the baby was the safest of all. he was nearly asleep on miss whipple's arm, and was there held while she went through a series of circus performing hitherto unknown. when all were safely out, and it was known that no one was seriously injured, exclamations of joy and thankfulness were uttered. "mr. riggs started in pursuit of the team, which had become detached from the carriage by the breaking of a bolt, and, frightened by the confusion, had run away. they were easily caught, as one ran faster than the other and thus running went in a circle. miss collins commenced searching for the whiffle-tree and found it nearly a half-mile away. "the boxes, bags, blankets, etc., were taken out, the carriage drawn into the road, and the bows of the top mended by means of a tent-pin and a strap. the broken bolt was replaced by a lariat and picket-pin, and the dash-board found a place in the feed-box in the rear. other things were arranged in their respective places, the team hitched to the conveyance, and in a little more than an hour from the time of stopping they were again journeying onward. mr. and mrs. riggs and miss collins had a few bruises, the other two not a scratch of which to boast. "at noon they lunched under the trees beside a dry lake-bed. all the water they had they brought with them in a canteen. "the head of snake creek was the next place where water could be found, and this place they hoped to reach by six o'clock. but the road was long and the horses weary. it was eight o'clock when the creek was reached, and then it was found to be dry. there was nothing to be done but to drive ten miles farther, where there were both wood and water. "little theodore seemed to realize that all was not quite right, and, knowing his bed-time, was passed asked his mamma to sing. then he said, 'mamma, keep still while i pray.' folding his hands, he lisped in sweet baby accents,--'dear father in heaven, take care of little theodore, grandma and grandpa, papa and mamma, aunt may and miss whipple, for jesus' sake. amen.' then he settled down in the seat to sleep. happy, trusting child! he that careth for sparrows would not fail to hear the prayer of the little two-year-old who had expressed the thought of each heart. it was nearly midnight when supper was over and camp work done. "all were thankful that the next day was the day of rest--the horses not less than the people. "the sabbath was bright and beautiful, and, though nearly a hundred miles from any habitation, they felt they were not alone, but that the god who is worshiped in temples not made by hands was with them through all the pleasant hours of the holy day. "old sol now concluded to veil his face awhile, and monday morning was ushered in by a heavy rain. about nine o'clock the clouds broke away and preparations were made to start. before these were completed the rain again commenced falling. they, however, did not tarry, but rode ten miles in the moist atmosphere, which took the starch out of the ladies' sun-bonnets, wet the robes and bedding, but did not dampen the spirits of the party. "then they decided to wait until the storm abated. pitched the tent in the rain and remained there until the next morning, when the journey was resumed, though the rain-drops were still falling. "wednesday forenoon they saw an indian house and met four indians,--the first house passed and the first persons seen since bogue station was left. "that evening, just at dusk, the jim river was forded, and that night spent on its bank in fighting mosquitoes. "thursday they ascended the coteau range and made a call at fort wadsworth. two hundred miles had been traveled, and they had now arrived at the first settlement. a few miles on their camp was made, and early the next morning they started, hoping to reach good will in time for dinner. good will was reached, but no person could be found. bolted doors prevented an entrance, and now they must go eight miles to ascension church, where the conference was in session. "after riding up and down the many hills over which the road runs, they stopped at an indian house to inquire the way. out rushed a multitude of men and women. one old lady, a mother in israel, came hurrying along on her staff, saying, 'that's thomas, that's thomas.' they all shook hands, and expressed their joy because of the safe arrival. the thought came, 'it is worth all the trouble of a journey across the wide prairie to see so many christian indians.' "a little farther on the _old_ church, now used for a school building, was reached and found to be occupied by most of the missionaries who were attending the meeting. they kindly welcomed the weary travelers who had come so far from the wild teeton band, and took them in and warmed and fed them. "but the subject which pre-eminently engaged the attention of the conference on this occasion, and drew from our native pastors and laymen enthusiastic words, was that of carrying the gospel to the regions beyond." * * * * * t. l. riggs has written the following account of the formation of a native dakota missionary society: "a year since steps were taken at our _ptaya owohdaka_ gathering for the formation of a native missionary society. the question was: 'are not the native christians ready and able to support a special agency for the spread of the gospel among the still heathen dakotas? a committee was appointed to canvass the matter and report at the next annual conference. at this meeting, which has just adjourned, the missionary committee reported over $ _cash in hand_, and recommended that: ( ) a missionary board of three members--one the secretary, another treasurer--be elected; and ( ) a full discussion and expression of opinion on the part of the conference. this discussion was earnest, and showed an understanding of the subject, and a readiness to grapple with its difficulties, that was very gratifying. the missionary board was carefully chosen and instructed to select a fit man and send him out at once. after some consideration, david gray cloud, pastor of the ma-ya-san church, was chosen by the board. his acceptance being received, the sabbath afternoon service was mainly devoted to his special setting apart for the new work. "this is the first effort of the kind. heretofore our own missionary boards have fathered every such attempt. the support of native workers has come in part or entirely from white people. now in this new attempt all this is changed. the native christians send and support their own man. we thank god that they are ready to do this. "the new missionary will have for his special field the standing rock agency, though during the colder winter months he will probably spend the most of his time in the neighborhood of fort sully and cheyenne agency. to those in official position, as well as all others whom he may meet, we commend him for the work's sake and the master's." miss mary c. collins' story. "we had just come from a region where they are still abiding in the shadow of death, and where they are just beginning to learn that they may have life and have it more abundantly through our lord jesus christ. no wonder that when i saw so many rejoicing in his love i felt like exclaiming, 'god has said, let there be light,' and all the powers of earth can not withhold it, for god's time is at hand. could all the christians in our land have beheld with me such a multitude partaking of the lord's supper and obeying that loving command, 'this do in remembrance of me,' their hearts would, i think, have been filled with thanksgiving, and a long and earnest shout of 'glory to god in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men,' would have resounded through the land. "they have the spirit of christ, and are not satisfied with being saved themselves only, but desire the salvation of their benighted brethren. they have organized a missionary association and raised in one year about two hundred and fifty dollars to support a missionary. he is sent forth from this meeting, and how it must have rejoiced the hearts of those good men who have grown gray in the service, to see this young man arising from the degradation of his forefathers, standing on the christian platform, receiving the blessings of his people, and pledging himself faithfully to perform his work toward them and to his god. they must have had feelings akin to those of simeon when he beheld the saviour, 'for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.' when i saw the work these women had done to help sustain their paper, again i was amazed. twenty dollars' worth of fancy work was sold, and the women had done it all themselves. well may we say, 'they have done what they could.' they only have one paper, the _word carrier_ and it was about to fail for want of means to carry it on, and these women, with a truly christian spirit, went to work to sustain this important disseminator of truth. that was far more for them to give than for our christians at home to subscribe for the paper and make it self-supporting. on sabbath there was not room in their large church to hold the people, and we were obliged to hold services in the open air, and seven or eight hundred dakotas were present to hear god's message to them. and to me it seemed the most beautiful sight i ever beheld. there were several admitted into the church, and one girl who was about sixteen years old, who was baptized in infancy, now in youth comes out on the lord's side. a little boy about twelve years old was baptized, and i thought of many of the little boys at home, even older than that, who had not accepted the saviour, and, although they have so many blessings, yet he hath chosen the good part which shall not be taken away from him. "i think the angels in heaven rejoiced when these people lifted up their hearts and voices in praise to him. and as the old missionary hymn rang out on the air, i thought it seemed even grander than ever before." chapter xxi. - .--the wilder sioux.--gradual openings.--thomas lawrence.--visit to the land of the teetons.--fort sully.--hope station.--mrs. general stanley in the _evangelist_.--work by native teachers.--thomas married to nina foster.--nina's first visit to sully.--attending the conference and american board.--miss collins and miss whipple.--bogue station.--the mission surroundings.--chapel built.--mission work.--church organized.--sioux war of .--community excited.--schools.--"waiting for a boat."--miss whipple dies at chicago.--mrs. nina riggs' tribute.--the conference of at sully.--questions discussed.--grand impressions. we had been long thinking of and looking toward the wilder part of the sioux nation, living on and west of the missouri river. more than thirty years before this, in company with mr. alex. g. huggins, i had made a trip over from lac-qui-parle to fort pierre. the object of that visit was to inform ourselves in regard to the teetons--their numbers and condition, and whether we ought then to commence mission work among them. and since the santees were brought to the missouri we had made several preaching tours up the river, stopping awhile with the brules at crow creek, and with the minnekanjoos, the oohenonpa, the ogallala, and the itazipcho of the cheyenne and standing rock agencies. the bringing of our christianized people into proximity with the wild part of the nation seemed to indicate god's purpose of carrying the gospel to them also. the field was evidently now open, and waiting for the sower of the precious seed of the word. there was no _audible_ cry of "come over and help us," nor was there in the case of paul with the macedonian. but there was the same unrest, the same agony, the same reaching out after a knowledge of god, now as then. we listened to it, and assuredly gathered that the lord would have us work among the teetons. thomas lawrence was mary's second boy. he could hardly be reconciled with the idea that his mother should go away to the spirit land, while he was down in mississippi teaching the freedmen. now he had been two years in chicago theological seminary, and was asking what he should do when the other year was finished. the prudential committee of the american board were looking around for some one to send to the upper missouri. thomas had been born and brought up, in good part, in the land of the dakotas; but they deemed it only fair that he should now with a man's eyes see the field, and with a man's heart better understand the work before committing himself to it. and so, in his summer vacation of , they said to him, "go with your father to the land of the teetons, and see whether you can find your life-work with them." we came to the land of the teetons, and stopped for five or six weeks at fort sully, which was in the neighborhood of cheyenne agency. there we found chaplain g. d. crocker, who had been much interested in our work among the dakotas when stationed at fort wadsworth. we found also good and true christian friends in captain irvine and his wife, and in the noble mrs. general stanley, the wife of the commandant of the post. in the mornings of our stay in the garrison, we often gathered buffalo berries--mashtinpoota, _rabbit noses_, as the indians called them. during the day we talked with the dakotas, and studied the teeton dialect, and also the assinaboine and the ree. in our judgment, the time had fully come for us to commence evangelistic work in this part of the nation. our friends at sully thought so, and the prudential committee did not hesitate a moment. indeed, they could not wait for thomas to finish his seminary course, but sent him off in midwinter to fort sully. he was ordained by a council which met in beloit. the indians of the cheyenne agency, a portion of them, were distributed along down in the missouri bottom in little villages and clusters of houses. in a village of this kind, a little below the fort, and on the opposite side of the river, t. l. riggs erected his first house. it was a hewed log cabin, with two rooms below, one of which was a school-room. the garret was arranged for sleeping apartments. this was called hope station, so named by captain irvine's little daughter, who about this time came into the christian hope. of this new enterprise, mrs. gen. d. s. stanley sent a very pleasant notice to the _new york evangelist_. "six years ago," she says, "my lot was cast among the sioux, or dakota indians, who inhabit the region bordering on the missouri river, miles above sioux city, iowa, and in the vicinity of fort sully, dakota territory. all this time it has been a matter of surprise to me that no christian missionary was laboring among these heathens, while so many were sent to foreign lands. in reply to a suggestion to this effect, made to the american board, it was stated that it is almost impossible to induce a competent person to undertake so difficult and dangerous a task. "meanwhile god was preparing the way. a boy had grown up among the dakotas, speaking their language, understanding their customs, and identifying himself with their best interests. he was at this time in college preparing for the ministry, and last spring this young man, rev. t. l. riggs, son of the veteran missionary and dakota scholar of that name, came to this place, and entered upon the work for which he seemed to be so peculiarly fitted. almost unassisted, except by a brother, and some facilities for work afforded by the commandant of fort sully, he has erected two log buildings, and already schools are in operation on both sides of the river, attended by about sixty indians, of various ages. two native teachers were employed during the summer, and two are engaged for the winter. mr. riggs has surmounted great difficulties, inseparable from such efforts in remote and unsettled regions; but he is full of energy, and his heart is in the work." from the beginning, it has been the aim at this station to do the work of education very much by means of native teachers. the first summer, a young man from the yankton agency, toonwan-ojanjan by name, was employed, and also louis mazawakinyanna, from sisseton. the next autumn, james red wing and his wife martha, and blue feather (suntoto), were brought up from the santees. red wing's wife taught the women in letters and the family arts, while the men taught the young men and children generally, and greatly aided in the religious teachings of the sabbath. afterward, dowanmane, another santee man, was employed in like manner. this was the commencement of educational and christian work in this teeton field. at another point, some few miles below hope station, on the same side of the river, was another dakota village, where thomas immediately commenced holding a preaching service, and has kept up a school. it is one of his out stations, and called chantier, from the name of the creek and bottom. while the opportunities for education and the new teaching were looked upon favorably, and gladly received by many, there were not wanting those who were savagely opposed. at different times, while henry m. riggs, who spent several years aiding in the erection of buildings and other general work, was present with thomas at hope station, their house and tent were fired upon by indians, and residence there seemed hardly safe. when he had thus started the work, leaving it to be cared for and carried on by henry m. riggs and edmund cooley and the native teachers, thomas went down to the states to consummate a marriage engagement with cornelia margaret foster (known as nina foster), daughter of hon. john b. foster of bangor, me. it was winter, and not considered advisable for mrs. riggs to return with her husband to his home among the teetons. she made a visit with her sister, mrs. c. h. howard, at glencoe, in the vicinity of chicago, and in the spring month of may i accompanied her up the missouri. we had a particularly long voyage of eleven days, on the _katie koontz_, between the santee agency and fort sully; so long that we picked up thomas on the way, coming to meet us in his little skiff. thomas and nina returned to sully after our mission meeting at the yankton agency, and then, in september, went to the meeting of the board at minneapolis. sully was a far-off station. there were many reasons why a white woman should not be there alone. miss lizzie bishop's election to go back with them, together with her beautiful life and early death, have been detailed in a preceding chapter. she had fallen out of the working ranks, but others were ready to step to the front. in the previous spring, secretary treat had told me that there were two young ladies in iowa who were anxious to engage in mission work. they preferred to go to the indians, as they desired to labor together. it was a david and jonathan love that existed between miss mary c. collins and miss j. emmaretta whipple. they were immediately sent out by the woman's board of the interior to labor at bogue station. this place, selected in , had for various reasons become in the home station--thenceforward hope was only an out-station. bogue station is on peoria bottom, about fifteen miles below fort sully, and on the same side of the missouri, called by the indians "tee-tanka-ohe," meaning "the place of a large house," so called from a house built years ago by an indian. general harney selected this bottom as the place for an agency, or rather, perhaps, where a scheme of civilization should be tried, and built upon it several log houses, which became the dwellings of yellow hawk and his people. the bottom has several advantages--considerable cottonwood timber, plenty of grass for hay, and as good land for cultivation as there is in this often "dry and thirsty land."[ ] [ ] now named _oahe_. the first winter oyemaza, or james red wing, and his wife lived here with henry m. riggs, and taught a school. the second winter thomas and nina, with miss bishop, made it their abode. so that it was not quite a new place to which miss collins and miss whipple came, and yet new enough. the mission dwelling is made of logs--one series of logs joined to another, so as to make four rooms below, one of which has served as a school-room through the week and a chapel for the sabbath. additions have been made in the rear. the school-room has for a long time back overflowed on the sabbath, and the women and children have been packed into the room adjoining, which is the family room. hence a great and growing want of this station has been a chapel and larger school-room. the name of bogue was given to the station for mrs. mary s. bogue, a special friend of thomas while he was in the seminary, who has gone to her rest. it was at one time expected that mr. bogue would furnish the means to erect a chapel; but the shrinkage in values and financial losses made him a broken reed. and so the desired building has been postponed from year to year. but a small contribution of fourteen cents, made by little bertie howard, was the nucleus around which larger contributions gathered, chiefly from nina's native bangor. about $ of special contributions were thus received, and the prudential committee made a loan, which was afterward made a gift, of $ toward it. the building is going up--august, --a neat and substantial frame, the material of which was brought up from yankton by boat. it is forty by twenty feet, and will have a bell-tower in one corner. * * * * * let me now go back and take up the threads of the narrative which were dropped two years ago. the two young ladies who desired to work together in some indian field found themselves here in yellow hawk's village. they entered into the labors of those who had been here longer. they grew into the work. the day schools in books and sewing, together with the night school, employed all hands, during the winter especially. a number have learned to read and write in their own language. besides the school carried on at the home station, the two out stations have been occupied by native helpers. edwin phelps, from the sisseton agency, with his mother, elizabeth winyan, have been valuable assistants for two winters past. also for the winter of - , david gray cloud, one of the native pastors at the head of the coteau, did valuable service both in teaching and preaching. he was sent to standing rock by the native missionary society, but, not being able to get a footing there, he came down here to preach to these teetons salvation by jesus christ. in the spring, when he was leaving for sisseton, they begged him to stay, or at least to promise to come back again. the word, during these years, has not been preached in vain. while in the main it has been seed-sowing,--only seed-sowing--breaking up the wild prairie-land of these wild dakota hearts, and planting a seed here and there, which grows, producing some good fruit, but in most cases not yet the best fruit of a pure and holy life,--still, in the summer of , one young man, the first fruits among the teetons, _david lee_ (upijate) by name, came out as a disciple of jesus. this was the signal for the organization of a church at this station, which was effected in august. another native convert, the brother of the first, was added in the autumn following; and still more a year or so afterward. for two winters past, several boys and young men, who have made a good commencement in education in these schools, have been sent down to enjoy the advantages of a. l. riggs' high school at santee. the sioux war of the summer of produced a great excitement at all the agencies on the upper missouri. the indians in these villages were more or less intimately connected with the hostiles. many of those accustomed to receive rations here were during the summer out on the plains. some of them were in the custer fight. they say that sitting bull's camp was not large--only about two hundred lodges. the victory they gained was not, as the whites claimed, owing to the overwhelming number of the dakotas, but to the exhausted condition of custer's men and horses, and to their adventuring themselves into a gorge where they could easily be cut off. when the autumn came, the victories of the sioux had been turned into a general defeat. many of them, as they claim, had been opposed to the war all along. the attacks, they say, were all made by the white soldiers. _they_--these dakota men--were anxious to have peace, and used all their influence to abate the war spirit among the more excited young men. this made it possible for the military to carry out the order to _dismount_ and _disarm_ the sioux. but in doing this all were treated alike as foes. such men as _long mandan_ complain bitterly of this injustice. from him and his connections the military took sixty-two horses. he cannot see the righteousness of it. as a matter of course, this excited state of the community was unfavorable, in some respects, to missionary work during the winter. the military control attempted to interfere with the sending away of teeton young men to the santee school. but on the whole no year of work has proved more profitable. in all the schools, thomas reported about two hundred and forty scholars. they were necessarily irregular in attendance, as they were frequently ordered up to the agency to be counted. still, the willing hearts and hands had work to do all the time. and so the spring of came, when the women folks of bogue station had all planned to have a little rest. mrs. nina riggs was to go as far as chicago to meet her father and mother from bangor. miss collins and miss whipple were going to visit their friends in iowa and wisconsin. and so they all prepared for the journey and _waited for a boat_. by some mischance boats slid by them. they put their tent on the riverbank and waited. so a whole month had passed, when, at last, their patient waiting was rewarded, and they passed down the missouri river and on to chicago. the ladies of the woman's board of the interior had arranged to have them present and take an active part in several public meetings in and around chicago. this was unwise for the toilers among the dakotas. the excitement of waiting and travel--the summer season--the strain on the nervous system incident to speaking in public, to those unaccustomed to it--all these were unfavorable to the rest they needed. we must not quarrel with the lord's plan, but we may object to the human unwisdom. so it was; before miss whipple had visited her friends she was stricken down with fever. loving hearts and willing hands could not stay its progress. it is said, and we do not doubt it, that all was done for her recovery that kind and anxious friends could do. miss collins, her special friend, did not leave her. delirium came on, and she was _waiting for the boat_. it was not now a missouri steamer, but the boat that angels bring across from the land of life. she saw it coming. "the boat has come and i must step in," she said. and so she did, and passed over to the farther shore of the river. the teetons say, "two young women went away, and one of them is not coming back. they say she has gone to the land of spirits. it has been so before. miss bishop went away, and we did not see her again. and now we shall not see miss whipple any more." so they mourn with us. but, while the workers fall, their work will not fail. it is the work for which christ came from the bosom of the father; and, as he lives now, so he "shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied." dear miss whipple's death came upon us like a thunder-clap. we are dumb, because the lord has done it. nevertheless, it has made our hearts very sad and interfered with our plans of work. but we can say, "not in _our_ way, but in _thy_ way, shall the work be done." a fitting tribute from mrs. nina riggs will be found very interesting. * * * * * "miss j. e. whipple died of gastric fever at chicago, august , aged . for nearly two years she had been connected with the dakota mission among the teeton indians. and she left her work there last spring, in order to take a short vacation and visit among her friends. on her way from her sister's home in knoxville, ill., to the home of her father at badger, wis., she was attacked by the disease which proved fatal. through all her sickness to the end, she was tenderly and lovingly cared for by miss mary collins, her intimate friend and companion in missionary labor. in the summer of , miss whipple gave herself to the cause of missions, and entered upon her work in the autumn of that same year. she had little idea of what she should be called to do, but self-consecration was the beginning of all, and so, whatever work was given her to do, she took it up cheerfully and earnestly, yielding time and strength and zeal to it. though it seemed small, she did not scorn it; though repugnant, she did not shirk it; though hard, she bravely bore it. her merry smile, her thoughtful mind, her quick response, the work of her strong, shapely hands, all blessed our mission home. she came a stranger to us, but when she left us in the spring, only for a summer's vacation as we thought, she was our true and well beloved friend. "they tell me she is dead! when the word reached us, already was the dear form laid away by loving hands to its last rest. "dead! the house is full of her presence, the work of her hands is about us, the echo of her voice is in our morning and vesper hymns, the women and children whom she taught to sew and knit, and the men whom she taught to read and write, gather about the doorway. even now beneath the workman's hammer is rising the chapel, for which she hoped and prayed and labored. "dead? no! the power of her strong young life is still making itself felt, though the bodily presence is removed from us, nor can that power cease so long as the work she loved is a living work. "'the children all about are sad,' said an indian woman. 'i too am sorrowful. i wanted to see her again.' the little theodore, whom she had loved and tended, folded his hands and prayed, 'bless miss emmie up in heaven,--she was sick and died and went to heaven,--and bring her back some time.' sweet, childish prayer that would fain reach out with benediction to her who is beyond the reach of our blessing, eternally blest. "as she passed away from the fond, enfolding arms that would have detained her, she breathed a message for us all. listen! do you not hear her speaking? 'work for the missions, work for the missions. christ died for the missions.' "on the wall of her room still hangs the scripture roll as it was left. and this is the word of comfort it bears:-- "'i shall be satisfied when i awake in thy likeness.' "'his servants shall serve him and they shall see his face.'" the dakota conference. the sixth annual meeting of the conference of churches connected with the dakota mission took place at t. l. riggs' station on peoria bottom, near fort sully, commencing on thursday, september , , and closing on sabbath, the th. the very neat new chapel, which had been in building only a few weeks, was pushed forward so that it made a very convenient and comfortable place of meeting. the sabbath immediately preceding, it was occupied for religious service. it was very gratifying to see the house filled by the indians living here. in the general interest manifested in religious instructions by the people of these villages, there is very much to encourage us. old men and women, young men and maidens, flock to the new chapel, and express great gratification that it has been erected for their benefit. on wednesday, the th of the month, the delegates began to come in. the first to arrive were from the homestead settlement of flandreau on the big sioux. they had come miles and traveled ten days. then came the delegation of more than twenty from the sisseton reservation, near fort wadsworth. and in the evening came the largest company from the yankton and santee agencies. in all there were over sixty present, about forty-five of whom were members of the conference, and all had traveled more than miles. the last to arrive were john p. williamson and a. l. riggs, who, being disappointed in getting a steamboat, had to come all the way in the stage. our meeting was opened with a sermon by the youngest of our dakota pastors, rev. john eastman of flandreau. this was followed by greetings from t. l. riggs and mr. yellow hawk and mr. spotted bear. responses by s. r. riggs, and pastors artemas, john renville, daniel renville, solomon, david, louis, and joseph blacksmith, followed by a. l. riggs and john p. williamson, who had just arrived. the meeting was very enjoyable and was followed by the organization. t. l. riggs and david gray cloud were the english and dakota secretaries, the only officers of the conference. the roll contained fifty names, a number less than we have had present in years past, but quite large, considering the distance of the place from our churches, and the pressure of home work. friday, after a morning prayer meeting, at which the house appeared to be full, the conference was opened with so large a gathering that it was found necessary to pack the house, when about two hundred were crowded in. as yet only a few of these teetons have changed their dress, but they sit for three hours, and listen very attentively to discussions on the questions of "how to study the bible," and "who shall be received to church membership?" to the teetons it was all new, but the native pastors endeavored to put their thoughts into such forms as to reach their understandings. chaplain g. d. crocker of sully was present with his family, and added to the interest. on saturday, dr. cravens, agent at cheyenne, with his wife, made us a visit. the homestead question occupied us for a whole afternoon, and was one which attracted the most attention, as these teetons even are greatly exercised to know how they shall secure a permanent habitation. daniel renville, joseph blacksmith, and esau iron frenchman, all homesteaders, made eloquent appeals in favor of indians becoming white men. but their stories of hard times showed that it had been no child's-play with them. the report of the executive committee of the native missionary society was read by a. l. riggs, and david gray cloud gave an interesting account of his last winter's work on the missouri. speeches were made by john b. renville, joseph blacksmith, s. r. riggs, and john p. williamson. by vote of the conference the same committee was re-elected for another year--a. l. riggs, joseph blacksmith, and john b. renville. the money now in the treasury is about $ , besides certain articles contributed and not yet sold. the committee expect to engage the services of one of the pastors for the coming winter. another question discussed was "household duties"; when the divine constitution of the family was made to bear against polygamy. this subject bore heavily upon the principal men of these villages, who were present and heard it all. it will doubtless cause some searchings of heart, which we hope will result in changed lives. on saturday afternoon a woman's meeting was held, which was peculiarly interesting in consequence of miss whipple's unexpected translation. she has worked herself very much into the hearts of these teeton women. our whole meeting was closed by the services of the sabbath. john p. williamson preached an impressive sermon in dakota; john eastman led in the service of song at the organ; two of the native pastors administered the supper of our lord; gray-haired bear and estelle duprey were united in marriage; c. h. howard of _the advance_, made a good talk to the dakotas on christian work through the holy spirit's help, and led in an english bible reading; and finally, john b. renville gave us a wonderful series of pictures on the "glory of heaven"--what man's eye hath not seen--man's ear hath not heard--and man's heart hath not conceived. we shall long remember the meeting at peoria bottom, and we shall expect to see results in the progress of truth in the minds and hearts of these teetons. the forty years are completed. in the meantime, many workers have fallen out of the ranks, but the work has gone on. it has been marvelous in our eyes. at the beginning, we were surrounded by the whole sioux nation, in their ignorance and barbarism. at the close we are surrounded by churches with native pastors. quite a section of the sioux nation has become, in the main, civilized and christianized. the entire bible has been translated into the language of the dakotas. the work of education has been rapidly progressing. the episcopalians, entering the field many years after we did, have nevertheless, with more men and more means at their command, gone beyond us in the occupation of the wilder portions. their work has enlarged into the bishopric of niobrara, which is admirably filled by bishop hare. thus god has been showing us, by his providence and his grace, that the red men too may come into the kingdom. appendix. _monographs._ mrs. nina foster riggs, rev. gideon h. pond, solomon, dr. t. s. williamson, the family reunion, and others. appendix. monographs. mrs. nina foster riggs. cornelia margaret, daughter of hon. john b. foster and catharine mcgaw foster, was born in bangor, me., march , . very soon after she left us, on august , , there appeared appreciative testimonials of her life and character in the _advance_, in the _iapi oaye_, and in _life and light_. in preparing this monograph, the writer will make free use of all these materials. rev. r. b. howard, while in the theological seminary at bangor, knew her as nina foster, "a golden-haired, fair-cheeked, gracefully formed little sabbath-school scholar of ten, at the central church. her quick, laughing eye, her sensitive face reflecting every changing thought, her constant companionship of an only sister a little taller, her ready answers to all sabbath-school questions, her intelligent appreciation of the sermons, and her sunshiny presence at school and at home, were among the impressions which her childhood gave. "she lacked no means of cultivating the rare powers of mind which she early developed. many things she seemed to learn intuitively. her scholarship was bright, quick, accurate. literature was her delight. her mother's father, judge mcgaw, whose white locks and venerable presence then honored bangor, was an interested and judicious guide in the home reading. "in social life few shone more brilliantly, or were more admired and sought after. in those days, the beauty of person of the young lady was of a rare and noticeable type. her conversational powers were fascinating. she had by nature genuine histrionic talent, and in conversation, reading, or reciting seemed to be completely the person she sought to represent. on one occasion, by a slight change of dress, voice, and manner, she appeared as an aged widow, pleading with a high officer of the government at washington, to help her find her son, lost in the troublous times of the war." the "only sister, a little taller," mrs. katie foster howard, thus testifies of nina's early life:-- "when a little child, from eight to twelve years old, she and some of her companions formed 'a praying circle,' and had a little room in one of their homes which they called the house of prayer. they met often in this room, and delighted to decorate it after their childish fashion. "another favorite occupation was the teaching of some poor children whom she and one or two friends brought out of their dreary homes to the church vestibule, and there taught to sew and read. "when eleven years old she was examined by the pastor and church officers for admission to the church; they asked her how long she had loved jesus, and she answered,'oh, a great many years.'" mrs. howard speaks of her sister as "the little girl in the eastern home, whose _spirituelle_ face, with its halo of golden hair, seemed so much more of heaven than of earth as to cause the frequent, anxious comment that this world could not long detain her. an active, happy child among her playmates, her thoughts were often upon heavenly things, and her desire was to turn theirs thitherward, yet without anything morbid or unchildlike in her ways. "as she grew to womanhood, she was the delight of the home which so tenderly shielded her from every rude blast, and of a large circle of attached friends. she possessed those charms of person and manners and qualities of mind which won admiration, and peculiarly fitted her to enjoy and adorn society. so when the time came for her to change this for a secluded life, many regretted that the fine gold should be sent where baser metal, as they thought, would do as well; that the noble woman, so eminently fitted for usefulness in circles of refinement, should spend her life among the degraded and unappreciative savages. but the event has proved that only such a nature, abounding in resources, could be the animating spirit of a model home in the wilderness; which should be an object-lesson of christian culture not only to the indian but to the army people, who were her only white neighbors, and who for her sake could look with interest on a work too often an object of contempt. and thus the reflex influence upon those who missed her from their number, or met her as she journeyed to her field of labor, has been in proportion to the grace of her refinement and the depth and breadth of her character. god, who spared not his own son, still gives his choicest ones to the salvation of men." while on a visit to chicago, in the family of her sister, she first became acquainted with thomas l. riggs, then a student in the theological seminary. their mutual love soon compelled her to consider what it would be to share in his life-work. she recognized its hardships and deprivations as could hardly have been expected in one so inexperienced in life's trials. she afterward often playfully said she was "not a missionary, only a missionary's wife." but it was a double consecration, joyous and entire, to the life of wife and missionary. thomas and nina were married at her home in bangor, december , . it is said, "christian people, and even christian ministers, were inclined to say, 'why this waste?'" some did say it. some spoke in bitter and almost angry condemnation of her course. that this beautiful and accomplished girl, eminently fitted to adorn any society, should devote herself to a missionary life, occasioned much comment in the social circle in which she had been prominent. what could she do for the coarse, degraded indian women, that might not be better done by a less refined, sensitive, and elevated nature? why shut up her beauty and talents in the log cabin of an indian missionary? it was a shock to some who had preached self-sacrifice, and a painful surprise to many who had been praying the lord of the harvest to send laborers. but none of these things moved her. there has seldom been a sweeter and more lovely bride. the parents too made the consecration, while they wrestled in spirit. the father writes: "i gave her up when she left us on that winter's night. it was a hard struggle, but i think i gave her unconditionally to god, to whom she so cheerfully gave herself." at this season of the year, it was not possible for nina to accompany her husband to fort sully, and so he left her at gen. c. h. howard's, near chicago, to come on in the early spring. this was my first opportunity of becoming acquainted with "mitakosh washta," as i soon learned to call her. general howard accompanied her to sioux city, and then i became her escort by railroad and stage to santee agency, and thence by steamboat to sully. the boat was nearly two weeks on the way, and we took on two companies of united states troops at fort randall. the officers soon manifested a marked admiration for the beauty and culture of the bangor lady; so that afterward, in alluding to this little episode, i used playfully to say to nina that i was rejoiced when thomas, coming down the missouri in his skiff, met us and took charge of his bride. we had but a few weeks to spend at fort sully, until we should start down to the meeting of our annual conference, which was held in june that year, at the yankton agency. but those weeks were full of pleasure to nina. everything was new and strange. she was devoid of fear when she sat in the iron skiff, and crossed the big muddy with her husband at the helm. the time came to go down. it was nearly noon on monday when we were ready to start; but, by hard driving, we were able to reach rev. john p. williamson's--more than miles--by the afternoon of thursday. secretary s. j. humphrey, from chicago, was there, and afterward wrote that for t. l. riggs and the father, who were accustomed to hard traveling and sleeping on the ground, it was nothing very strange; but for one reared as nina had been, it was simply wonderful. this was the first meeting of martha riggs morris with her new sister. when the latter had gone beyond our ken, martha wrote an appreciative article for the _word carrier_: "let me give something," she wrote, "of the little glimpses i have had of her brave, cheery life. i may first go back to the time when we first heard of nina foster--who thought enough of t. l. riggs and the indian work to help him in it. that was in the spring-time. a few months later, thomas had a hard ride across from fort sully to sisseton on horseback, accompanied by a soldier for guard and an indian for guide. he came to attend the annual conference of the dakota churches, and he showed us a picture of the young lady herself. a beautiful face, we all thought it was. and from what we heard of nina foster, we were all prepared to take her into our hearts, as we did when we saw her afterward. "it was in june of the year following that i had my first glimpse of her. i had myself taken a tedious journey of some three hundred miles, and the years as well as the journey had worn upon me. so i felt some trepidation about meeting the blooming bride. but, on seeing her, that soon vanished, and i had nothing left but admiration for the beautiful sister. she told so merrily how they had strapped her in, to keep her from falling out of the wagon, and other incidents of her unaccustomed journey. there was an evident determination to make the best of every experience." a little while after this mrs. morris was called to lay away her blue-eyed boy out of sight. then nina's letter was very comforting. "i have wept," she says, "with you for the dear little baby form laid away from your arms to its last sleep; and i think of your words, 'nothing to do any more.' ah! my dear sister, he will not so leave you comfortless. he who forgot not, in the last hours of his earthly life, to give to the aching mother-heart a new care and love, will not forget, i think, to bestow on your emptied hands some new duty which shall grow to be a joy." at the meeting of the american board at minneapolis in the autumn of , mrs. nina riggs was present, and addressed the ladies of the woman's board, asking for a young lady companion in her far-off field. to this call miss lizzie bishop of northfield responded, and gave the remainder of her bright, true life to help on the work at fort sully. nina visited her sister in chicago, and charmed them all by reciting her strange experiences of the summer. "her buoyant spirits and faculty for seeing the droll side of everything helped to make the sketch a bright one. her sense of humor and keen wit has lightened many a load for herself and others; the more forlorn and hopeless the situation, the more elastic her spirits. how often have those of her own household, wearied with severe labor and weighed down with care, been compelled to laugh, almost against their will, by her irresistible drollery, and thus the current of thought was turned and the burden half thrown aside." in the summer of baby theodore was born, and none from fort sully came to our annual meeting. on my way from a visit to fort berthold, down the missouri river, i stopped off for a few days. they were then occupying hope station, across the river from the fort. both miss bishop and mrs. nina riggs i found very enthusiastic over their work for the teeton women. when another year had been completed, lizzie bishop had gone home to die, and nina riggs made a visit to her friends in the east. the board met in chicago that autumn, and mrs. riggs again addressed the ladies. "two years ago," she said, "at a meeting in minneapolis, i made a request which was promptly answered. i asked for a young lady to go back with me to the mission work. i find her name is not on the rolls. but if ever a brave life should be recorded, and the name of an earnest woman be loved and remembered by all, it is that of miss lizzie bishop of northfield, minn. we had hoped that she might return, but the lord has not seen fit to allow that. he calls her to himself soon. for the past two years i have been at different stations. i was at hope station, on the west side of the missouri. now i am at bogue station, fifteen miles below fort sully, on the east side. since i have been there, i have met a great many women. at first they all seemed to me very degraded; but i have come not only to feel interested in many of them, but to love some of them with a very deep love." so spake nina; and when she sat down, a telegram was read that the good and brave lizzie bishop had already entered in through the gates of pearl, into "jerusalem the golden." two others, miss mary c. collins and miss emmaretta whipple, were ready to start back with mrs. riggs. so the vacant place was more than filled, and they all girded themselves for a hard winter's work. a little before this time, nina sent to the _word carrier_ a short bit of poetry, which seems to embody her own wrestling with doubt in others. the last stanza reads:-- "with daring heart, i too have tried to know the height and depth of god above; and can i wonder that i too walked blind, and felt stern justice in the place of love? above the child, the sun shines on; above me too one reigns i cannot see; yet all around i feel both warmth and power; _if god is not_, whence can _their_ coming be?" in september, , the great gathering of the dakota mission was held in the new ascension church, on the sisseton reservation. mrs. morris writes: "we looked out eagerly for the travelers from fort sully way. we hoped they would come a few days beforehand, so that we might have more of their companionship. but they did not come. and as we had to be on hand in the ascension neighborhood, ten miles away, to entertain the missionaries that might come, we shut up our house, and went on without the fort sully friends. it was friday noon when they arrived, and received a glad welcome from all." thomas and nina and their little lad theodore, now two years old, who amused every one with his quaint sayings, together with miss collins and miss whipple, with all their personal and camping baggage, had been packed for eight days into a small two-horse buggy. the journey of miles, the way they traveled, over a country uninhabited, was not without its romance. "not the least of the enjoyment of this 'feast of days,' were the bits of talk sandwiched in here and there between meetings, and caring for the children and providing for the guests. as we baked the bread and watched over the two cousins, theodore and mary theodora, so nearly of an age, we had many a pleasant chat--nina and i. she gave me an insight into their happy home-life, and i longed to know more. she told, too, of her special work in visiting the homes of the teetons, and prescribing for the sick. at the special meeting held for the women, nina made a few remarks, winning all hearts by her grace of manners, as well as by her lovely face. now that she is gone, the dakota women speak of her as 'the beautiful woman who spoke so well.'" "to all who come i wish my home to seem a pleasant home," is a remark which miss collins accredits to nina. so indeed we found it in the months of august and september of . the dear miss whipple had just stepped into the boat at chicago which carried her to the farther shore. miss collins was mourning over her departed comrade while making out the visit to her friends. by appointment i met on the way, gen. charles h. howard of the _advance_, who, with his family, was bound for fort sully. we were prospered in our journey up the missouri, and gladly welcomed into the mission home on peoria bottom. the two sisters met and passed some happy weeks in the home of the younger one. mrs. howard thus describes that home in those august days: "its treeless waste lay under a scorching sun. beneath a bluff which overlooks the river lowlands, nestled a solitary green enclosure around a long, low dwelling, whose aspect was of comfort and of home. the sunshine which withered the surrounding country was not the gentle power under which had sprung up this oasis in the desert. the light within the house, whose sweet radiance beautified the humble dwelling, and shone forth upon the wilderness around, was the fair soul, whose heaven-reflected glory touched all who came within its ray." to the same effect is miss collins' testimony: "i think no one ever entered her home without feeling that the very house was purified by her presence. i remember well just how she studied our different tastes. she knew every member of the family thoroughly; and our happiness was consulted in all things." so we all thought. nina presided in her own home, albeit that home was in dakota land, with a queenly grace. about the middle of that september our annual conference met in their new and not yet finished chapel, on peoria bottom. miss collins did not get back until the close of the meeting. besides her guests, mrs. nina riggs had a good deal of company from fort sully and the agency. but it was all entertained with the same quiet dignity. of this visit to her sister, mrs. howard wrote afterward: "i do not know how to be grateful enough that we spent last summer ( ) together; it is a season of blessed memory." to this i add: i too have one last picture of nina in my memory. i was to return to sisseton with the indians who had come over to our annual conference. they went up on monday to cheyenne agency to get rations for the journey. on tuesday afternoon thomas arranged to take me out fifteen miles to meet them. thinking they would go out and return that evening a party was made up. the two sisters, mrs. howard and nina, and little theodore and thomas and myself in a buggy, and gen. c. h. howard and "mack" on ponies, we had a pleasant ride out. but it was too late for them to return. the dakota friends gave us of their fresh meat, and with the provisions nina had bountifully supplied for my journey, we all made a good supper and breakfast, and had an abundance left. the next morning we separated. that was my last sight of nina. in midsummer of , the time for her departure came. she seemed to have a premonition of its coming. miss collins writes: "the last summer of her precious life seemed a very fitting one for the last. she labored earnestly for the conversion of her boy, and said: 'if i should die and leave my boy, i should feel so much better satisfied to go if he had that stronghold.'" in the _word carrier_ for september appeared this notice: "our beloved nina foster riggs, wife of rev. t. l. riggs of bogue station, near fort sully, has heard the master's call, and gone up higher. she was taken away in child-birth, on the th of august. hers was a beautiful life, blossoming out into what we supposed would be a grand fruitage of blessing to the dakotas. it is cut off suddenly! 'even so, father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight.' _we are dumb, because thou didst it!_" two days after her death, thomas wrote: "dear father--mitakosh washta has been taken from us. my good nina has gone. she was taken sick saturday night. before the light of the sabbath, violent convulsions had set in. we got the post surgeon and mrs. crocker here as soon as possible; but, though every effort was made, the spasms could not be prevented, and our dear one sank gradually out of reach. early monday morning, after child-birth, the mother seemed to brighten a bit; but soon our gladness was turned to sadness, for she did not rally. god took her. she was his. we buried the body--the beautiful house of the more beautiful spirit--in the yard near her window, yesterday. may god help us." only a few days before, a kind providence had guided arther h. day, a cousin of nina's, from his work in the office of the _advance_, in chicago, and robert b. riggs from his teaching in beloit college, up to peoria bottom, for a little rest. and so they were there to help and give sympathy. of this event mr. day wrote: "rarely is it the lot of one so blessed with loving relatives and friends to pass away surrounded by so few to sympathize, and to be buried with so few to weep. three relatives and nine other white friends stood alone by her grave, and the many hundreds in the far east knew not of the scene. i say _white_ friends, because i would not ignore the presence of those many dusky faces which looked on in sorrow, because _their friend_ was dead. "about noon on tuesday, august , the funeral service was conducted by chaplain crocker. the same hymn was sung that, by nina's own choice, had been sung at her wedding:-- "'guide me, o thou great jehovah.' one room of the house was filled with indians, and the service was partly in the native language. her grave was made near the window of her room, where she so often had beheld the sunset; and as kindly hands laid her body there, surrounded by beautiful flowers, the chaplain said: 'never was more precious dust laid in dakota soil--never more hopeful seed planted for a spiritual harvest among the dakota people.'" this beautiful summing-up of her character appeared as an editorial in the _advance_, by rev. simeon gilbert:-- "here was a young woman of extraordinary beauty of person, of still more noticeable symmetry and completeness of mental endowment, sweetness and nobility of disposition, brightness and elasticity of temperament; quickly, keenly sympathetic with others' joys and sorrows--but who had never known a grief of her own; converted in infancy, reared in one of the happiest of earnest christian homes, and favored with as fine social and educational advantages as the country affords; with too much sense to be affected by mere 'romance,' yet deeply alive to all the poetry alike in literature and in real life; and withal, from early childhood, with a spiritual imagination exquisitely alive to the realness and the nearness of unseen things, and the all-controlling sweep of the motives springing therefrom;--rarely does one meet a young person better fitted at once to enjoy and to adorn what is best in american christian homes. at the age of twenty-four she marries a young man just out of the seminary, and goes forth with him beyond the frontiers of civilization, into the very heart of savage indian tribes. what a sacrifice; what a venture; what certain-coming solicitudes, perils, cares, deprivations, hardships, loneliness, and mountainous discouragements! and there for the short period of less than five years she lives, when suddenly the young missionary is left alone, longing for the 'touch of a vanished hand and the sound of a voice that is still.' "now, a case like this must set one to studying over again what, after all, is the true philosophy of life, and what, on the whole, is the wisest economy of personal forces in the church's work of christianizing the world. as helping to a right answer, let us note a few facts:-- " . it costs to save a lost world; and nothing is wasted that serves well that end. god himself has given for this purpose the choicest, the highest, and the best which it was possible for even him to give. " . heathen people, even savages, as we call them, are not insensible to the unique fascination, and power to subdue and inspire, which belong to what is really most beautiful in aspect, manner, mind, and character. often it is to them as if they had seen a vision, or dreamed a startling dream of possibilities of which they had known nothing, and could have known nothing, until they _saw_ it, and the sight awakened into being and action the diviner elements of their own hidden nature. the word of god is one form of revelation, but the work of god in a peculiarly complete and lovely character is another revelation, and one that unmistakably interprets itself. there is as much need of the one as there is of the other. the light of the knowledge of the glory of god in the face of christ must, in most cases at least, first be seen reflected 'in the face' of some of his disciples. the more dense the darkness, the more intense must be the shining of the love and the beauty of the truth which are to enlighten, captivate, lead forth, and refine. among all the teepees and huts of that indian reservation, as also throughout the barracks and quarters of the military post at fort sully, mrs. riggs was known, and the potent charm of her personal influence and home-life was deeply felt. it is largely due to such persons that the cause of missions, even among the most degraded, commands the respect, if not the veneration, of those who otherwise might have looked on derisively. " . nor, again, are the lives of such persons wasted as regards their influence upon those who knew them, or shall come to know of them; at home. 'how far that little candle throws its beams; so shines a good example'; and in instances like these it shines more effectively than, perhaps, in any other circumstances would have been possible. if one were to mention a score of american women who have exerted most influence in determining the best characteristics of american women, half of them, we suspect, would be names of the women who, leaving home and country, went far forth seeking to multiply similar homes in other countries. " . nor, again, is the strangely beautiful life wasted because cut short so early in its course. the ointment most precious was never more so than when its box was broken and the odor of it filled all the house. this that this young missionary has done, animated by the love of the master and a sacred passion for lifting up the lowly, will be spoken of as a memorial of her in all the churches; and in not a few homes, of the rich as of the poor, will be felt the sweet constraint of her beautiful, joyous, consecrated life. she was not alone; there are many more like her; and, best of all, there are to be vastly more yet, who will not be deaf to 'the high calling.' the master has need of them. the way, on the whole, is infinitely attractive. thanks for the life of this woman who did so much, from first to last, to make it appear so! "and thanks too for such a death, which, coming in the sweetest and completest blooming of life's beauty, when not a fault had stayed to mar it, and no wasting had ever touched it--an ending which transfigures all that came before it, and which now, in the mingling of retrospect and prospect, helps those who knew her to a deeply surprised sense of the fact that, 'to death it is given, to see how this world is embosomed in heaven.'" to us, who are blind and cannot see afar off, it is impossible to perceive, and difficult to believe, that the taking away in the vigor of womanhood of one who was showing such a capacity and adaptability for the work of elevating the teetons can be made to subserve the furtherance of the cause of christ. but we must believe that god, who sees the end from the beginning, and who makes no mistakes, will bring out of this sore bereavement a harvest of joy; and that that grave under the window of the mission house in peoria bottom will be a testimony to the love of jesus and the power of his gospel, that will thrill and uplift many hearts from bangor to fort sully. it was a beautiful life of faith and service; and it has only gone to be perfected in the shadow of the tree of life. s. r. r. rev. gideon h. pond. a successful life. born and brought up in litchfield county, in a town adjoining washington, connecticut, rev. george bushnell visited that hill country in his youth, and was deeply impressed with the manifest and pervading religious element in the community. taken there by a special providence, more than a quarter of a century ago, and enjoying the privilege of a visit in some of the families, it seemed to me that it had been a good place to raise men. this was on the line of the impression made upon me years before that. when i first met, in the land of the dakotas, the brothers samuel w. and gideon h. pond, they were both over six feet high, and "seemed the children of a king." in this hill town of washington, on the th of june, , gideon hollister, the younger of the two brothers, was born. his parents were elnathan judson and sarah hollister pond. gideon was the fifth child, and so was called by the dakotas _hakay_. of his childhood and youth almost nothing is known to the writer. he had the advantage of a new england common-school education; perhaps nothing more. as he grew very rapidly and came to the size and strength of man early, he made a full hand in the harvest field at the age of sixteen. to this ambition to be counted a man and do a man's work when as yet he should have been a boy, he in after life ascribed some of his infirmities. this ambition continued with him through life, and occasional over-work at last undermined a constitution that might, with care and god's blessing, have continued to the end of the century. he came to the land of the dakotas, now minnesota, in the spring of . the older brother, samuel, had come out as far as galena, ill., in the summer previous. the pioneer minister of that country of lead was rev. aratus kent, who desired to retain mr. pond as an adjutant in his great and constantly enlarging work; but mr. pond had heard of the sioux, or dakotas, for whose souls no one cared, and, having decided to go to them, he sent for his brother gideon to accompany him. when they reached fort snelling, and made known their errand to the commanding officer of the post, major bliss, and to the resident indian agent, major taliaferro, they received the hearty approval and co-operation of both, and the agent at once recommended them to commence work with the dakotas of the lake calhoun village, where some steps had already been taken in the line of civilization. there, on the margin of the lake, they built their log cabin. last summer mr. king's grand pavilion, so called, was completed on the same spot, which gave occasion for mr. gideon h. pond to tell the story of this first effort in that line: "just forty-three years previous to the occurrence above alluded to, on the same beautiful site, was completed an humble edifice, built by the hands of two inexperienced new england boys, just setting out in life-work. the foundation-stones of that hut were removed to make place for the present pavilion, perchance compose a part of it. the old structure was of oak logs, carefully peeled. the peeling was a mistake. twelve feet by sixteen, and eight feet high, were the dimensions of the edifice. straight poles from the tamarack grove west of the lake formed the timbers of the roof, and the roof itself was of the bark of trees which grew on the bank of what is now called 'bassett's creek,' fastened with strings of the inner bark of the bass wood. a partition of small logs divided the house into two rooms, and split logs furnished material for a floor. the ceiling was of slabs from the old government saw-mill, through the kindness of major bliss, who was in command of fort snelling. the door was made of boards split from a log with an axe, having wooden hinges and fastenings, and was locked by pulling in the latch-string. the single window was the gift of the kind-hearted major lawrence taliaferro, united states indian agent. the cash cost of the building was one shilling, new york currency, for nails used in and about the door. 'the formal opening' exercises consisted in reading a section from the old book by the name of bible, and prayer to him who was its acknowledged author. the 'banquet' consisted of mussels from the lake, flour and water. the ground was selected by the indian chief of the lake calhoun band of dakotas, man-of-the-sky, by which he showed good taste. the reason he gave for the selection was that 'from that point the loons would be visible on the lake.' "the old chief and his pagan people had their homes on the surface of that ground in the bosom of which now sleep the bodies of deceased christians from the city of minneapolis, the lake wood cemetery, over which these old eyes have witnessed, dangling in the night breeze, many a chippewa scalp, in the midst of horrid chants, yells, and wails, widely contrasting with the present stillness of that quiet home of those 'who sleep the years away.' that hut was the home of the first citizen settlers of hennepin county, perhaps of minnesota, the first school-room, the first house for divine worship, and the first mission station among the dakota indians." the departure of mr. pond called forth from gen. henry h. sibley so just and beautiful a tribute, that i can not forbear inserting a portion, from the _pioneer press_ of st. paul:-- "when the writer came to this country, in , he did not expect to meet a single white man, except those composing the garrison at fort snelling, a few government officials attached to the department of indian affairs, and the traders and voyageurs employed by the great fur company in its business. there was but one house, or, rather, log cabin, along the entire distance of nearly miles between prairie du chien and st. peters, now mendota, and that was at a point below lake pepin, near the present town of wabashaw. what was his surprise then to find that his advent had been preceded in the spring of the same year by two young americans, samuel w. pond and gideon h. pond, brothers, scarcely out of their teens, who had built for themselves a small hut at the indian village of lake calhoun, and had determined to consecrate their lives to the work of civilizing and christianizing the wild sioux. for many long years these devoted men labored in the cause, through manifold difficulties and discouragements, sustained by a faith that the seed sown would make itself manifest in god's good time. the efforts then made to reclaim the savages from their mode of life, the influence of their blameless and religious walk and conversation upon those with whom they were brought in daily contact, and the self-denial and personal sacrifices required at their hands, are doubtless treasured up in a higher than human record." general sibley mentions an incident belonging to this period of their residence at lake calhoun, which never before came to my knowledge:-- "gifted with an uncommonly fine constitution, the subject of this sketch met with an accident in his early days, from the effects of which it is questionable if he ever entirely recovered. he broke through the ice at lake harriet in the early part of the winter, and as there was no one at hand to afford aid, he only saved his life after a desperate struggle, by continuing to fracture the frozen surface until he reached shallow water, when he succeeded in extricating himself. his long immersion and exhaustive efforts brought on a severe attack of pneumonia, which for many days threatened a fatal termination." my own personal acquaintance with mr. pond commenced in the summer of . he was then, and had been for a year previous, at lac-qui-parle. in september my wife and i joined that station, and the first event occurring after that, which has impressed itself upon my memory, was the marriage of mr. pond and miss sarah poage, sister of mrs. dr. williamson. this was the first marriage ceremony i had been called upon to perform; and mr. pond signalized it by making a feast, and calling, according to the saviour's injunction, "the poor, the maimed, the halt, and the blind." and there was a plenty of such to be called in that dakota village. they could not recompense him, but "he shall be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." mr. pond had long been yearning to see what was inside of an indian. he sometimes said he wanted to be an indian, if only for a little while, that he might know how an indian felt, and by what motives he could be moved. when the early spring of came, and the ducks began to come northward, a half-dozen dakota families started from lac-qui-parle to hunt and trap on the upper part of the chippewa river, in the neighborhood of where the town of benson now is. mr. pond went with them and was gone two weeks. it was in the month of april, and the streams were flooded and the water was cold. there should have been enough of game easily obtained to feed the party. but it did not prove so. a cold spell came on, the ducks disappeared, and mr. pond and his indian hunters were reduced to scanty fare, and sometimes they had nothing for a whole day. but mr. pond was seeing inside of indians and was quite willing to starve a good deal. however, his stay with them, and their hunt for that time as well, was suddenly terminated, by the appearance of the ojibwa chief hole-in-the-day and ten men with him. they came to smoke the peace-pipe, they said. they were royally feasted by three of the families, who killed their dogs to feed the strangers, who, in turn, arose in the night and killed the dakotas. as god would have it, mr. pond was not then with those three tents, and so he escaped. no one had started with more of a determination to master the dakota language than gideon h. pond. and no one of the older missionaries succeeded so well in learning to talk just like a dakota. indeed, he must have had a peculiar aptitude for acquiring language; for in these first years of missionary life, he learned to read french and latin and greek, so that the second mrs. pond writes: "when i came, and for a number of years, he read from the greek testament at our family worship in the morning. afterward he used his latin bible, and still later his french testament." in this line of literary work general sibley's testimony is appreciative. he says:-- "indeed, to them, and to their veteran co-laborers, rev. t. s. williamson and rev. s. r. riggs, the credit is to be ascribed of having produced this rude and rich dakota tongue to the learned world in a written and systematic shape, the lexicon prepared by their joint labors forming one of the publications of the smithsonian institute at washington city, which has justly elicited the commendation of experts in philological lore, as a most valuable contribution to that branch of literature." while mr. pond was naturally ambitious, he was also peculiarly sensitive and retiring. when the writer was left with him at lac-qui-parle, dr. williamson having gone to ohio for the winter, although so much better master of the dakota than i was at that time, he was unwilling to take more than a secondary part in the sabbath services. "dr. williamson and you are ministers," he would say. and even years afterward, when he and his family had removed to the neighborhood of fort snelling, and he and his brother had built at oak grove, with the people of their first love, gideon h. could hardly be persuaded that it was his duty to become a preacher of the gospel. i remember more than one long conversation i had with him on the subject. he seemed to shrink from it as a little child, although he was then thirty-seven years old. in the spring of , he and mr. robert hopkins were licensed by the dakota presbytery, and ordained in the autumn of . we were not disappointed in our men. mr. hopkins gave evidence of large adaptation to the missionary work; but in less than three years he heard the call of the master, and went up through a flood of waters. mr. pond, notwithstanding his hesitation in accepting the office, became a most acceptable and efficient and successful preacher and pastor. after the treaties of , these lower sioux were removed to the upper minnesota. white people came in immediately and took possession of their lands. mr. pond elected to remain and labor among the white people. he very soon organized a church, which in a short time became a working, benevolent church--for some years the banner presbyterian church of minnesota in the way of benevolence. when, in , mr. pond resigned his pastorate, he wrote in his diary, "i have preached to the people of bloomington twenty years." he received home mission aid only a few years. we are very glad to have placed at our disposal so much of the private journal of the late rev. g. h. pond as relates to the wonderful work of god among the dakotas in prison at mankato, minn., in the winter of - . the facts, in the main, have been published before; but the story, as told so simply and graphically by mr. pond, may well bear repeating. mr. pond arrived at mankato saturday, january , , and remained until the afternoon of tuesday, february :-- "there are over three hundred indians in prison, the most of whom are in chains. there is a degree of religious interest manifested by them, which is incredible. they huddle themselves together every morning and evening in the prison, and read the scriptures, sing hymns, confess one to another, exhort one another, and pray together. they say that their whole lives have been wicked--that they have adhered to the superstitions of their ancestors until they have reduced themselves to their present state of wretchedness and ruin. they declare that they have left it all, and will leave all forever; that they do and will embrace the religion of jesus christ, and adhere to it as long as they live; and that this is their only hope, both in this world and in the next. they say that before they came to this state of mind--this determination--their hearts failed them with fear, but now they have much mental ease and comfort. "about fifty men of the lake calhoun band expressed a wish to be baptized by me, rather than by any one else, on the ground that my brother and myself had been their first and chief instructors in religion. after consultation with rev. marcus hicks of mankato, dr. williamson and i decided to grant their request, and administer to them the christian ordinance of baptism. we made the conditions as plain as we could, and we proclaimed there in the prison that we would baptize such as felt ready heartily to comply with the conditions--commanding that none should come forward to receive the rite who did not do it heartily to the god of heaven, whose eye penetrated each of their hearts. all, by a hearty--apparently hearty--response, signified their desire to receive the rite on the conditions offered. "as soon as preparations could be completed, and we had provided ourselves with a basin of water, they came forward, one by one, as their names were called, and were baptized into the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost, while each subject stood with his right hand raised and head bowed, and many of them with the eyes closed, with an appearance of profound reverence. as each one passed from the place where he stood to be baptized, one or the other of us stopped him and addressed to him, in a low voice, a few words, such as our knowledge of his previous character and the solemnities of the occasion suggested. the effect of this, in most cases, seemed to very much deepen the solemnity of the ceremony. i varied my words, in this part of the exercises, to suit the case of the person; and when gray-haired medicine-men stood literally trembling before me, as i laid one hand on their heads, the effect on my mind was such that at times my tongue faltered. the words which i used in this part of the service were the following, or something nearly like them in substance: 'my brother, this is the mark of god which is placed upon you. you will carry it while you live. it introduces you into the great family of god, who looked down from heaven, not upon your head, but into your heart. this ends your superstition, and from this time you are to call god your father. remember to honor him. be resolved to do his will.' it made me glad to hear them respond, 'yes, i will.' "when we were through, and all were again seated, we sung a hymn appropriate to the occasion, in which many of them joined, and then prayed. i then said to them, 'hitherto i have addressed you as friends; now i call you brothers. for years we have contended together on this subject of religion; now our contentions cease. we have one father--we are one family. i must now leave you, and probably shall see you no more in this world. while you remain in this prison, you have time to attend to religion. you can do nothing else. your adherence to the medicine sack and the wotawe has brought you to ruin. our lord jesus christ can save you. seek him with all your heart. he looks not on your heads nor on your lips, but into your bosoms. brothers, i will make use of a term of brotherly salutation, to which you have been accustomed in your medicine dance, and say to you, brothers, i spread my hands over you and bless you.' the hearty answer of three hundred voices made me feel glad. "the outbreak and events which followed it have, under god, broken into shivers the power of the priests of devils, which has hitherto ruled these wretched tribes. they were before bound in the chains and confined in the prison of paganism, as the prisoners in the prison at philippi were bound with chains. the outbreak and its attendant consequences have been like the earthquake to shake the foundation of their prison, and every one's bonds have been loosed. like the jailer, in anxious fear they have cried, 'sirs, what must we do to be saved?' they have been told to believe on the lord jesus christ, who will still save unto the uttermost all that come unto god by him. they say they repent and forsake their sins--that they believe on him, that they trust in him, and will obey him. therefore they have been baptized into the name of the father and of the son and of the holy ghost, _three hundred in a day_." in the spring of , mrs. sarah poage pond departed, after a lingering illness of eighteen months, and left a "blessed memory." there were seven children by this marriage, all of whom are living, and have families of their own, but george, who died while in the lane theological seminary. in the summer of , mr. pond was married to his second wife, mrs. agnes c. j. hopkins, widow of rev. robert hopkins. the second mrs. pond brought her three children, making the united family of children at that time ten. six have been added since. and there are twenty-two grandchildren, six of whom are members of the church of christ, together with all the children and their companions. is not that a successful life? counting the widowed mother and those who have come into the family by marriage, there are, i understand, just fifty who mourn the departure of the patriarch father. a little more than two-score years ago, he was one; and now behold a _multitude_! mary frances hopkins, who came into the family when a girl, and afterward married edward r. pond, the son, writes thus: "to me he was as near an own father as it is possible for one to be who is so by adoption, and i shall always be glad i was allowed to call him father." the members of the synod of minnesota will remember with great pleasure mr. pond's presence with them at their last meeting at st. paul, in the middle of october. for some years past, he has frequently been unable to be present. this time he seemed to be more vigorous than usual, and greatly entertained the synod and people of st. paul with his terse and graphic presentation of some of the lord's workings in behalf of the dakotas. during the meeting i was quartered with mrs. governor ramsay. on saturday i was charged with a message to mr. pond, inviting him to come and spend the night at the governor's. we passed a profitable evening together, and he and i talked long of the way in which the lord had led us; of the great prosperity he had given us in our families and in our work. neither of us thought, probably, that that would be our last talk this side the golden city. the next day, sabbath, he preached in the morning, for rev. d. r. breed, in the house of hope, which, probably, was _his last sermon_. in the evening he was with us in the opera house, at a meeting in the interest of home and foreign missions. "his health gradually failed," mrs. pond writes, "from the time of his return from synod, though he did not call himself sick until the th of january, , and he died on sabbath, the th, about noon." she adds: "his interest in the indians, for whom he labored so long, was very deep, and he always spoke of them with loving tenderness, and often with tears. one of the last things he did was to look over his old dakota hymns, revised by j. p. w. and a. l. r., and sent to him for his consent to the proposed alterations." "his _simple faith_ in the lord jesus caused him all the time to live a life of self-denial, that he might do more to spread the knowledge of jesus' love to those who knew it not." the love of christ constrained him, and was his ruling passion. of his last days the daughter says:-- "he really _died of consumption_. the nine days he was confined to bed he suffered much; but his mind was mostly clear, and he was very glad to go. i think the summons was no more sudden to him than to elijah. he was to the last loving and trustful, brave and patient. to his brother samuel, as he came to his sick bed, he said: 'so we go to see each other die.' some time before he had visited samuel when he did not expect to recover. 'my struggles are over. the lord has taken care of me, and he will take care of the rest of you. my hope is in the lord,' he said. "toward the last it was hard for him to converse, and he bade us no formal farewell. but the words, as we noted them down, were words of cheer and comfort: 'you have nothing to fear, for the present or the future.' and so was given to him the victory over death, through faith in jesus." _is that dying? he sleeps with his fathers. he has gone to see the king in his beauty, in a land not very far off._ as loving hands ministered to him in his sickness, loving hearts mourned at his death. on the wednesday following he was buried. a half a dozen brothers in the ministry were present at his funeral, and, fittingly, mr. breed of the _house of hope_ preached the sermon. _this is success._ s. r. r. solomon. in the summer of rev. john p. williamson made a tour up the missouri river as far as fort peck. his judgment was that there was no opening at that place for the establishment of a new mission, but that something might possibly be done by native dakotas. in the meantime, we had heard from the regions farther north than fort peck, where some of our church-members had gone after the outbreak of . somewhere up in manitoba, near fort ellice, was henok appearing cloud, with his relatives. his mother, mazaskawin,--_silver-woman_,--was a member of the hazelwood church, and his father, wamde-okeya,--_eagle help_,--had been my old helper in dakota translations. these were all near relatives of solomon toonkanshaecheye, one of our native pastors. dr. williamson, by correspondence with the presbyterian board, obtained an appropriation of several hundred dollars to send a native missionary to these dakotas in canada. solomon gladly accepted the undertaking, and in the month of june, , started for manitoba with samuel hopkins for a companion. they were received with a great deal of joy by their friends, who entreated them to stay, or come back again if they left. but provisions were very scarce, and hard to be obtained; and hence they determined to return to the sisseton agency before winter. while in manitoba they had taught and preached the gospel, and baptized and received several persons to the fellowship of the church. solomon wrote, before he returned, "indeed, there is no food; they have laid up nothing at all; so that, when winter comes, where they will obtain food, and how they will live, no one knows. but i have already found something of what i have been seeking, and very reluctantly i turn away from the work." solomon and samuel returned to sisseton, but their visit had created a larger desire for education and the privileges of the gospel. in the march following, henok appearing cloud wrote that he had taught school during the winter, and conducted religious meetings, as he "wanted the word of god to grow." in much simplicity, he adds: "although i am poor, and often starving, i keep my heart just as though i were rich. when i read again in the sacred book what jesus, the lord, has promised us, my heart is glad. i am thinking, if a minister will only come this summer and stay with us a little while, our hearts will rejoice. if he comes to stay with us a long time, we will rejoice more. but as we are so often in a starving condition, i know it will be hard for any one to come." rev. john black of keldonan manse, near winnipeg, heard of this visit of solomon to manitoba, and of the desire of those dakotas to have a missionary. he at once became deeply interested in the movement, and wrote to dr. williamson, at st. peter, proposing that the presbyterian missionary society of canada should take upon themselves the charge of supporting solomon as a missionary among the dakotas of the dominion. but when the matter was brought before the missionary committee, they decided that the condition of their finances would not allow them to add to their burdens at that time. it was not, however, given up, and a year later the arrangement was consummated. in the _word carrier_ for december, , appeared this editorial:-- "the most important event occurring in our missionary work during the month of october is the departure of rev. solomon toonkanshaecheye, with his family, for fort ellice, in the dominion of canada. this has been under advisement by the presbyterian foreign missionary society of canada for two years past. rev. john black of keldonan manse, manitoba, has been working for it. a year ago the funds of the society would not admit of enlargement in their operations. this year their way has been made clear, and the invitation has come to solomon to be their missionary among the dakotas on the assinaboine river. they pay his expenses of removal, and promise him $ salary. "he has gone. agent hooper of sisseton agency furnished him with the necessary pass, and essentially aided him in his outfit, and so we sent him off on the tenth day of october, invoking god's blessing upon him and his by the way, and abundant success for him in his prospective work. from the commencement of negotiations in regard to this matter it has been of special interest to dr. t. s. williamson of st. peter. he has conducted the correspondence with mr. black. and now, while the good doctor was lying nigh unto death, as he supposed, the arrangement has gone into effect. if this prove to be his last work on earth (may the good lord cause otherwise), it will be a matter of joy on his part that thus the gospel is carried to regions beyond, by so good and trustworthy a man as we have found solomon to be all through these years." thus was the work commenced. dr. williamson did not pass from us then, but lived nearly two years longer, and was cheered by the news of progress in this far-off land. this being among our first efforts to do evangelistic work by sending away our native ministers, our hearts were much bound up in it. the church of long hollow was reluctant to give up their pastor, and to me it was giving up one whom i had learned to trust, and, in some measure, to depend upon, among my native pastors. but it was evidently god's call, and he has already justified himself, even in our eyes. solomon found a people prepared of the lord, and, in the summer of , he reports a church organized with thirteen members, which they named paha-cho-kam-ya--middle hill--of which henok was elected elder. in the next winter solomon and henok made a missionary tour of some weeks, of which we have the following report. the letter is dated "february , , at middle hill, near fort ellice, north-west territory":-- "this winter it seemed proper that i should visit the dakotas living in the extreme settlements, to proclaim to them the word of god. i first asked counsel of god, and prayed that he would even now have mercy on the people of these end villages, and send his holy spirit to cause them to listen to his word. then i sent word to the people that i was coming. "then i started with mr. enoch, my elder. the first night we came to three teepees of our own people at large lake, and held a meeting with them. the next morning we started, and slept four nights. on the fifth day we came to a large encampment on elm river. there were a great number of tents, which we visited, and prayed with them, being well received. but as i came to where there were two men, and prayed with them, i told them about him whose name was jesus--that he was the helper man, because he was the son of god. that he came to earth, made a sacrifice of himself, and died, that he might reconcile all men to god; that he made himself alive again; that, although men have destroyed themselves before god, whosoever knows the meaning of the name of jesus, and fears for his own soul, and prays, he shall find mercy, and be brought near to god. that is the name. and he is the saviour of men, and so will be your saviour also, i said. "then one of them in a frightened way answered me: 'i supposed you were a dakota, of those who live in cabins. it is not proper that you should say these things. as for me, i do not want them. those who wish may follow in that way; but i will not. you who hold such things should stay at home. what do you come here for?' "walking-nest then said: 'you are cloudman's son, i suppose, and so you are my cousin. cousin, when we first came to this country there was a white minister who talked to us and said: "your hands are full of blood; therefore, when your hands become white, we will teach you." so he said, and when you brought a book from the south, while they were looking at it, blood dropped from above upon it; and behold, as the white minister said, i conclude we are not yet good. therefore, my cousin, i am not pleased with your coming,' he said. "but there were only two men who talked in this way. we left them and visited every house in the camp. many may have felt as those men did, but did not say it openly. the men said they were glad, and welcomed us into their tents. "the next day i came into a sick man's tent whose name was hepan, lying near to death. i talked with him, and prayed to god for him. then he told me how he longed to hear from his friends down south, and mentioned over half a dozen names of his relatives. a woman also, who was present, said: 'i want to know if my friends are yet living.' "then we continued our visiting from house to house. sometimes we found only children in the tent; sometimes there were men and women, and i prayed with them and told them a word of jesus. so we came to the teepees in the valley. then i met iron buffalo. there we spent the sabbath, and held meeting, having twenty-three persons present. a chief man, whose name is war-club-maker, called them together. "our meetings there being finished, we departed and came to the wahpaton village. they were making four sacred feasts. we did not go into them. but, visiting other houses, we passed on about five miles, when night came upon us. still we went on to the end of the settlement, where we held a meeting. the teepee was small, but there i found a sick man who listened to the word. this was chaskay, the son of taoyatedoota. he said he was going to die, and from what source he should hear any word of prayer, or any comforting word of god, was not manifest. but now he had heard these things, and was very glad, he said. this way was the best upon earth, and he believed in it now. so, while we remained there, he wanted us to pray with and for him, he said. "we spent one day there, and the second day we started home, and came to hunka's tent, and so proceeded homeward. when we had reached the other end of the settlement, we learned that the white ministers were to hold a meeting of presbytery. they sent word to us to come, and so in the night, with my hoonkayape, mr. enoch, i went back. they asked us to give an account of our missionary journey among the dakotas. and so we told them where we had been and what we had done. also, we gave an account of things at middle hill, where we live. when we had finished, they all clapped their hands. then they said they wanted to hear us sing a hymn of praise to god in dakota. we sang 'wakantanka towaste,' and at the close they clapped their hands again. "then two men arose, one after the other. the first said: 'i have not expected to see such things so soon among the dakotas. but now i see great things, which i like very much.' the other man spoke in the same way. "men and women had come together in their prayer-house, and so there was a large assembly. "then the minister of that church arose and said: 'white people, who have grown up hearing of this way of salvation, are expected to believe in it, and i have been accustomed to rejoice in the multiplication of the christian church; but i rejoice more over this work among the dakotas.'" both of these men came home to watch and wait by the sick-bed of dear children. nancy maza-chankoo-win,--iron road woman,--the daughter of henok, died april , . she was thirteen years old, read the dakota bible well, and was quite a singer in the prayer assemblies. they say: "we all thought a great deal of her; but now she too has gone up to sing in the house of jesus, because she was called." from middle hill, near fort ellice in manitoba, comes a letter written on may by our friend solomon. he reports _seven_ members added by profession of faith to his church in april, and ten children baptized. there, as here, the season has been a sickly one, and many deaths have occurred. for three months he has had sickness in his own family. his story is pathetic. "now," he says, "my son abraham is dead. seven years ago, at long hollow, in the country of the coteau des prairies, he was born on january , . and on the d of june following, at a communion season at good will church, he was baptized. when mr. riggs poured the water on him, he was called abraham. and then in the country of the north, from middle hill, may , , on that day, his soul was carried home to the house of jesus. "five months after he was born, i wanted to have him baptized. i always remember the thought i had about it. soon after a child is born, it is proper to have it baptized. i believed that baptism alone was not to be trusted in, and when one is baptized now it is finished is not thinkable. but in luke : , our lord jesus says: 'suffer the little children to come unto me'; and so taking them to jesus is good, since his heart is set on permitting them to come. therefore, i wanted this my son to go to jesus. "and so from the time he could hear me speak, i have endeavored to train him up in all gentleness and obedience, in truth and in peace. now, for two years in this country he has been my little helper. when some could not say their letters, he taught them. he also taught them to pray. and when any were told to repeat the commandments, and were ashamed to do so, he repeated them first, for he remembered them all. hence, i was very much attached to him. but this last winter he was taken sick, and from the first it seemed that he would not get well. but while he lived it was possible to help him, and so we did to the extent of our ability. he failed gradually. he was a long time sick. but he was not afraid to die. he often prayed. when he was dying, but quite conscious of everything that took place, then he prayed, and we listened. he repeated the prayer of the lord jesus audibly to the end. that was the last voice we heard from him. perhaps when our time comes, and they come for us to climb up to the hill of the mountain of jehovah, then we think we shall hear his new voice. therefore, although we are sad, we do not cry immoderately." that was a beautiful child-life, and a beautiful child-death. who shall say there are not now dakota children in heaven? to have been the means, under god, of opening in this desert such a well of faith and salvation is quite a sufficient reward for a lifetime of work. s. r. r. dr. t. s. williamson. the father of the dakota mission has gone. thomas smith williamson died at his residence in st. peter, minn., on tuesday, the th of june, , in the _eightieth_ year of his life. my own acquaintance with this life-long friend and companion in work commenced when i was yet a boy, just fifty years ago in july. we were new-comers in the town of ripley, ohio, where dr. williamson was then a practising physician of some five years' standing. my mother was taken sick and died. in her sick-chamber our acquaintance commenced, which has continued unbroken for half a century. the silver wedding of the dakota mission was celebrated at hazelwood, in the summer of . dr. williamson himself furnished a sketch of his life and ancestry for that occasion which has never been published. from this document, as well as from articles written by his son, prof. andrew woods williamson, and published in the _st. peter tribune_ and the _herald and presbyter_, much of this life-sketch will be taken. thomas smith williamson, m.d., was the son of rev. william williamson and mary smith, and was born in union district, south carolina, in march, . william williamson commenced classical studies when quite young; but the school he attended was broken up by the appointment of the teacher as an officer in the revolutionary army. when about sixteen years of age, while on a visit to an uncle's on the head-waters of the kanawha, in virginia, several families in the neighborhood were taken captive by the indians, and he joined a company of volunteers which was raised to go in pursuit. after more than a week's chase, they were entirely successful, and lost only one of their own number. when not yet eighteen years old, he was drafted into the north carolina militia, and accompanied gates in his unfortunate expedition through the carolinas. after the war was over and the family had removed to south carolina, william resumed his studies and was graduated at hampton sidney college--studied theology, and was ordained pastor of fair forest church, in april, . the grandfather of thomas smith williamson was thomas williamson, and his grandmother's maiden name was ann newton, a distant relative of sir isaac and rev. john newton. they were both raised in pennsylvania, but removed first to virginia and then to the carolinas, where they became the owners of slaves, the most of whom were purchased at their own request to keep them from falling into the hands of hard masters. thus rev. william williamson was born into the condition of slaveholder. by both his first and second marriage also, he became the owner of others, which, by the laws of south carolina, would have been the property of his children. for the purpose of giving them their liberty, he removed, in , from south carolina to adams county, ohio. before her marriage, mary smith had taught a number of the young negroes to read. and of their descendants quite a number are now in ohio. it should be remembered that the smiths and williamsons of the eighteenth century thought it right, under the circumstances in which they were, _to buy and hold slaves, but not right to sell them. they never sold any_. thomas smith williamson inherited from his father a love for the study of god's word, and a practical sympathy for the down-trodden and oppressed, which were ever the distinguishing characteristics of his life. he was also blessed with a godly mother and with five earnest-working christian sisters, four of whom were older than himself. he was converted during his stay at jefferson college, cannonsburg, pa., where he graduated in . soon after, he began reading medicine with his brother-in-law, dr. william wilson of west union, ohio, and, after a very full course of reading, considerable practical experience, and one course of lectures at cincinnati, ohio, completed his medical education at yale, where he graduated in medicine in . he settled at ripley, ohio, where he soon acquired an extensive practice, and april , , was united in marriage with margaret poage, daughter of col. james poage, proprietor of the town. perhaps no man was ever more blessed with a helpmeet more adapted to his wants than this lovely, quiet, systematic, cheerful, christian wife, who for forty-five years of perfect harmony encouraged him in his labors. they thought themselves happily settled for life in their pleasant home, but god had better things in store for them. his spirit began whispering in their ears the macedonian cry. at first, they excused themselves on account of their little ones. they felt they could not take them among the indians, that they owed a duty to them. they hesitated. god removed this obstacle in his own way--by taking the little ones home to himself. as this was a great trial, so was it a great blessing to these parents. this was one of god's means of so strengthening their faith that, having once decided to go, neither of them ever after for one moment regretted the decision, doubted that they were called of god to this work, or feared that their life-work would prove a failure. in the spring of , dr. williamson placed himself under the care of the chillicothe presbytery, and commenced the study of theology. in august of that year he removed with his family to walnut hills, and connected himself with lane seminary. in april, , in the first presbyterian church of red oak, he was licensed to preach by the chillicothe presbytery. previous to his licensure, he had received from the american board an appointment to proceed on an exploring tour among the indians of the upper mississippi, with special reference to the sacs and foxes, but to collect what information he could in regard to the sioux, winnebagoes, and other indians. starting on this tour about the last of april, he went as far as fort snelling, and returned to ohio in august. at rock island he met with some of the sacs and foxes, and at prairie du chien he first saw dakotas, among others mr. joseph renville of lac-qui-parle. on the th of september he was ordained as a missionary by the chillicothe presbytery, in union church, ross county, ohio. a few months afterward he received his appointment as a missionary of the a. b. c. f. m. to the dakotas; and on the first day of april, , dr. williamson, with his wife and one child, accompanied by miss sarah poage, mrs. williamson's sister, who afterward became mrs. gideon h. pond, and alexander g. huggins and family, left ripley, ohio, and on the th of may they arrived at fort snelling. at this time, the only white people in minnesota, then a part of the north-west territory, were those connected with the military post at fort snelling, the only post-office within the present limits of the state; those connected with the fur-trade, except hon. h. h. sibley, were chiefly canadian french, ignorant of the english language; and messrs. gideon h. and samuel w. pond, who came on their own account as lay teachers of christ to the indians in . while stopping there for a few weeks, dr. williamson presided at the organization, on the th of june, of the first presbyterian church--the first christian church organized within the present limits of minnesota. this was within the garrison at fort snelling, and consisted of twenty-two members, chiefly the result of the labors of major loomis among the soldiers. having concluded to accompany mr. joseph renville, dr. williamson's party embarked on the fur company's mackinaw boat on the d of june; reached traverse des sioux on the th, where they took wagons and arrived at lac-qui-parle on the th of july. there, on the north side of the minnesota river, and in sight of the "lake that speaks," they established themselves as teachers of the religion of jesus. of the "life and labors" pressed into the next forty-four years, only the most meager outline can be given in this article. it is now almost two round centuries since hennepin and du luth met in the camps and villages of the sioux on the upper mississippi. then, as since, they were recognized as the largest and most warlike tribe of indians on the continent. until dr. williamson and his associates went among them, there does not appear to have been any effort made to civilize and christianize them. with the exception of a few hundred words gathered by army officers and others, the dakota language was unwritten. this was to be learned--_mastered_, which was found to be no small undertaking, especially to one who had attained the age of thirty-five years. while men of less energy and pluck would have knocked off or been content to work as best they could through an interpreter, dr. williamson persevered, and in less than two years was preaching christ to them in the language in which they were born. he never spoke it easily nor just like an indian, but he was readily understood by those who were accustomed to hear him. it was by a divine guidance that the station at lac-qui-parle was commenced. the indians there were very poor in this world's good, not more than a half-dozen horses being owned in a village of people. they were far in the interior, and received no annuities from the government. thus they were in a condition to be helped in many ways by the mission. under its influence and by its help, their corn-patches were enlarged and their agriculture improved. dr. williamson also found abundant opportunities to practise medicine among them. not that they gave up their pow-wows and conjuring; but many families were found quite willing that the white pay-zhe-hoo-ta-we-chash-ta (grass root man) should try his skill with the rest. for more than a quarter of a century his medical aid went hand in hand with the preaching of the gospel. by the helpfulness of the mission in various ways, a certain amount of confidence was secured. and through the influence of mr. renville, a few men, but especially the women, gathered to hear the good news of salvation. here they were rejoiced to see the word taking effect early. in less than a year after their arrival, dr. williamson organized a native church, which, in the autumn of , when i joined the mission force at lac-qui-parle, counted seven dakotas. five years after the number received from the beginning had been forty-nine. this was a very successful commencement. but in the meantime the war-prophets and the so-called medicine-men were becoming suspicious of the new religion. they began to understand that the religion of christ antagonized their own ancestral faith, and so they organized opposition. the children were forbidden to attend the mission school; dakota soldiers were stationed along the paths, and the women's blankets were cut up when they attempted to go to church. year after year the mission cattle were killed and eaten. at one time, dr. williamson was under the necessity of hitching up milch-cows to haul his wood--the only animals left him. these were dark, discouraging years--very trying to the native church members, as well as to the missionaries. as i look back upon them, i can but admire the indomitable courage and perseverance of dr. williamson. my own heart would, i think, have sometimes failed me if it had not been for the "hold on and hold out unto the end" of my earthly friend. as mr. renville could only interpret between the dakotas and french, dr. williamson applied himself to learning the latter language. through this a beginning was made in the translation of the scriptures into the dakota. late in the fall of the gospel of mark and some other small portions were ready to be printed, and dr. williamson went with his family to ohio, where he spent the winter. the next printing of portions of the bible was done in - , when dr. williamson had completed a translation of the book of genesis. we had now commenced to translate from the hebrew and greek. this was continued through all the years of his missionary life. so far as i can remember, there was no arrangement of work between the doctor and myself, but while i commenced the new testament, and, having completed that, turned to the psalms, and, having finished to the end of malachi, made some steps backward through job, esther, nehemiah, and ezra, he, commencing with genesis, closed his work, in the last months of his life, with second chronicles, having taken in also the book of proverbs. before leaving the subject of bible translation, let me bear testimony to the uniform kindness and courtesy which dr. williamson extended to me, through all this work of more than forty years. it could hardly be said of either of us that we were very yielding. the doctor was a man of positive opinions, and there were abundant opportunities in prosecuting our joint work for differences of judgment. but, while we freely criticised each the other's work, we freely yielded to each other the right of ultimate decision. in the autumn of , dr. williamson received an invitation, through the agent at fort snelling, to establish a mission at little crow's village, a few miles below where st. paul has grown up, and he at once accepted it, gathering from it that the lord had a work for him to do there. and indeed he had. during the five or six years he remained there, a small dakota church was gathered, and an opportunity was afforded him to exert a positive christian influence on the white people then gathering into the capital of minnesota. dr. williamson preached the first sermon there. when, after the treaties of , the indians of the mississippi were removed, he removed with them--or, rather, went before them, and commenced his last station at pay-zhe-hoo-ta-zee, yellow medicine. there he and his family had further opportunities "to glory in tribulations." the first winter was one of unusual severity, and they came near starving. but here the lord blessed them, and permitted them to see a native church grow up, as well as at hazelwood, the other mission station near by. it was during the next ten years that the seeds of civilization and christianity took root, and grew into a fruitage, which, in some good manner, bore up under the storm of the outbreak in , and resulted in a great harvest afterward. twenty-seven years of labor among the dakotas were past. the results had been encouraging--gratifying. dr. williamson's eldest son, rev. john p. williamson, born into the missionary kingdom, had recently come from lane seminary, and joined our missionary forces. but suddenly our work seemed to be dashed in pieces. the whirlwind of the outbreak swept over our mission. our houses and churches were burned with fire. the members of our native churches--where were they? would there ever be a gathering again? but nothing could discourage dr. williamson, for he trusted not in an arm of flesh, but in the all-powerful arm of god. he found that he at least had the consolation of knowing that all the christian indians had continued, at the risk of their own lives, steadfast friends of the whites, that they had succeeded in saving more than their own number of white people, and that those of them who were unjustly imprisoned spent much of the time in laboring for the conversion of the heathen imprisoned with them. it required just such a political and moral revolution as this to break the bonds of heathenism, in which these dakotas were held. it seems also to have required the manifest endurance of privations, and the unselfish devotion of dr. williamson and others to them in this time of trouble, to fully satisfy their suspicious hearts that we did not seek _theirs_ but _them_. the winter of - , dr. williamson, having located his family at st. peter, usually walked up every saturday to mankato, to preach the gospel to the men in prison. "that," said a young man, "satisfied us that you were really our friends." sometimes it seems strange that it required so much to convince them! history scarcely furnishes a more remarkable instance of divine power on human hearts than was witnessed in that prison. for a particular account of this the reader is referred to the monograph on rev. g. h. pond. ever since the outbreak, dr. williamson has made a home for his family in the town of st. peter and its vicinity. for two years of the three in which the condemned dakotas were imprisoned at davenport, iowa, he gave his time and strength chiefly to ministering to their spiritual needs. education never progressed so rapidly among them as during these years. they almost all learned to read and write their own language; and spent much of their time in singing hymns of praise, in prayer, and in reading the bible. they were enrolled in classes, and each class placed under the special teaching of an elder. this gave them something like a methodist organization, but it was found essential to a proper watch and care. this experience in the prison and elsewhere made it more and more manifest that, to carry forward the work of evangelization among this people, we must make large use of our native talent. the original dakota presbytery was organized at lac-qui-parle in the first days of october, . dr. williamson and myself brought our letters from the presbytery of ripley, ohio, and samuel w. pond brought his from an association in connecticut. the bounds of this presbytery were not accurately defined, and so for years it absorbed all the ministers of the gospel of the presbyterian and congregational orders who came into the minnesota country. by and by the presbyteries of st. paul and minnesota were organized; but the dakota presbytery still covered the country of the minnesota river. at a meeting of this presbytery at mankato in the spring of , when our first dakota preacher, rev. john b. renville, was licensed, an incident took place which illustrates the meekness and magnanimity of dr. williamson's character. on its own adjournment the presbytery had convened and was opened with a sermon by dr. williamson, in the evening, in the presbyterian church. he took occasion to present the subject of our duties to the down-trodden races, the african and the indian. doubtless some who heard the discourse did not approve of it. but no exceptions would have been taken if the jewett family, out a few miles from the town, had not been killed that night by a sioux war-party. men were so unreasonable as to claim that the preaching and the preacher had some kind of casual relation with the killing. the next day, mankato was in a ferment. an indignation meeting was held, and a committee of citizens was sent to the presbyterian church to require dr. williamson to leave their town. some of the members of the presbytery were indignant at this demand; but the good doctor chose to retire to his home at st. peter, assuring the excited and unreasonable men of mankato that he could have had no knowledge of the presence of the war-party, and certainly had no sympathy with their wicked work. in years after this, i traveled hundreds of miles, often alone with dr. williamson, and while we conversed freely of all our experiences, and of the way god had led us, i do not remember that i ever heard him refer to this ill treatment of the people of mankato. like his master, he had learned obedience by the things he suffered. never brilliant, he was yet, by his capacity for long-continued, severe exertion, and by systematic, persevering industry, enabled to accomplish an almost incredible amount of labor. his life was a grand one, made so by his indomitable perseverance in the line of lifting up the poor and those who had no helper. from the beginning he had an unshaken faith in his work. he fully believed in the ability of the indians to become civilized and christianized. he had an equally strong and abiding faith in the power of the gospel to elevate and save even them. then add to these his personal conviction that god had, by special providences, called him to this work, and we have a threefold cord of faith, that was not easily broken. no one who knew him ever doubted that dr. williamson was a true friend of the red man. and he succeeded wonderfully in making this impression upon the indians themselves. they recognized, and, of late years, often spoke of, his life-long service for them. with a class of white men, this was the head and front of his offending, that, in their judgment, he could see only one side--that he was always the apologist of the indians--that in the massacres of the border in , when others believed and asserted that a thousand or fifteen hundred whites were killed, dr. williamson could only count three or four hundred. he was honest in his beliefs and honest in his apologies. he felt that necessity was laid upon him to "open his mouth for the dumb." they could not defend themselves, and they have had very few defenders among white people. in the summer of , after the release of the dakota prisoners at davenport, dr. williamson and i took with us rev. john b. renville, and journeyed up through minnesota and across dakota to the missouri river, and into the eastern corner of nebraska. on our way, we spent some time at the head of the coteau, preaching and administering the ordinances of the gospel to our old church members, and gathering in a multitude of new converts, ordaining elders over them, and licensing two of the best qualified to preach the gospel. when we reached the niobrara, we found the christians of the prison at davenport and the christians of the camp at crow creek now united; and they desired to be consolidated into one church of more than members. we helped them to select their religious teachers, which they did from the men who had been in prison. so mightily had the word of god prevailed among them that almost the entire adult community professed to be christians. rev. john p. williamson was there in charge of the work. for four successive summers, it was our privilege to travel together in this work of visiting and reconstructing these dakota christian communities. we also extended our visits to the villages of the wild teeton sioux along the missouri river. dr. williamson claimed that indians must be more honest than white people; for he always took with him an old trunk without lock or key, and in all these journeys he did not lose from a thread to a shoe-string. for thirty-six years the doctor was a missionary of the american board. but after the union of the assemblies, and the transfer of the funds contributed by the new school supporters of that board to the presbyterian board of foreign missions, the question of a change of our relations was thoughtfully considered and fully discussed. he was too strong a presbyterian not to have decided convictions on that subject. but there were, as we considered it, substantial reasons why we could not go over as an entire mission. and so we agreed to divide, dr. williamson and his son, rev. john p. williamson, transferring themselves to the presbyterian board, while my boys and myself remained as we were. the division made no disturbance in our mutual confidence, and no change in the methods of our common work. rather have the bonds of our union been drawn more closely together, during the past eight years, by an annual conference of all our dakota pastors and elders and sabbath-school workers. this has gathered and again distributed the enthusiasm of the churches; and has become the director of the native missionary forces. with one exception, dr. williamson was able to attend all these annual convocations, and added very much to their interest. while the synod of minnesota was holding its sessions in st. paul in october, , the good doctor was lying at the point of death, as was supposed, with pneumonia. farewell words passed between him and the synod. but his work was not then done, and the lord raised him up to complete it. at the next meeting of the synod, he presented a discourse on rev. g. h. pond; and during the winter following he finished his part of the dakota bible. then his work appeared to be done, and he declined almost from that day onward. on my way up to the land of the dakotas, in the middle of may, , i stopped over a day with my old friend. he was very feeble, but still able to walk out, and to sit up a good part of the day. we talked of many things. he then expressed the hope that as the warm weather came on he might rally, as he had done in former years. but the undertone was that, as the great work of giving the bible to the dakotas in their own language was completed, there was not much left for him to do here. he remarked that, during the last forty-four years, he had built several houses, all of which had either gone to pieces, or were looking old, and would not remain long after he was gone. but the building up of human souls that he had been permitted to work for, and which, by the grace of god, he had seen coming up into a new life, through the influence of the word and the power of the holy ghost, he confidently believed would _remain_. when i spoke of the near prospect of his dissolution to his dakota friends, there arose in all the churches a _great prayer cry_ for his recovery. this was reported to him, and he sent back this message, by the hand of his son andrew: "tell the indians that father thanks them very much for their prayers, and hopes they will be blessed both to his good and theirs. but he does not wish them to pray that his life here may be prolonged, for he longs to depart and be with christ." and the testimony of rev. g. f. mcafee, pastor of the presbyterian church in st. peter, who often visited and prayed with him in his last days, is to the same effect: "he absolutely forbade me to pray that he might recover, but that he might depart in peace." and so his longing was answered. he died on tuesday, june , , in the morning watch. he had no ecstasies, but he looked into the future world with a firm and abiding faith in him whom, not having seen, he loved. of his last days, john p. williamson writes thus:-- "he seemed to be tired out in body and mind, with as much disinclination to talk as to move, and apparently as much from the labor of collecting his mind as the difficulty of articulation. i think he talked very little from the time i was here going home from general assembly (june ) till his death, and for some time was perhaps unconscious. "you may know that father had a special distaste for what are called death-bed experiences. still, we thought that perhaps, at the last, when the bodily pains ceased, there might be a little lingering sunshine from the inner man, but such was not the case; and perhaps it was most fitting that he should die as he had lived, with no exalted feelings or bright imagery of the future, but a stern faith, which gives hope and peace in the deepest waters." he lived to see among the dakotas ten native ordained presbyterian ministers and about church members, besides a large number of episcopalians, a success probably much beyond his early anticipations. on the farther shore he has joined the multitude that have gone before. of his own family there are the three who went up in infancy. next, smith burgess, a manly christian boy, was taken away very suddenly. then lizzie hunter went in the prime of womanhood. the mother followed, a woman of quiet and beautiful life. and then the sainted nannie went up to put on white robes. besides these of his family, a multitude of dakotas are there, who will call him father. i think they have gathered around him and sung, under the trees by the river, one of his first dakota hymns:-- "jehowa mayooha, nimayakiye, nitowashta iwadowan." "jehovah, my master, thou hast saved me, i sing of thy goodness." my friend--my long-life friend--my companion in tribulation and in the patience of work, i almost envy thee thy _first_ translation. s. r. r. a memorial. eliza huggins; nannie williamson; julia la framboise. eliza w. huggins. the lord came to his garden, and gathered three fair flowers, which now bloom in the city of our god. we, who knew their beauty, come to lay our loving remembrances upon their graves. eliza wilson huggins was the third child of alexander g. and lydia huggins. she was born march , , and died june , . she early gave herself to jesus, and her lovely life was like a strain of sacred music, albeit its years of suffering brought out chords of minor harmony. this young girl, in the dawn of womanhood, with gentle step and loving voice, was a revelation to us who were younger than she. huguenot blood ran swiftly in her veins, and grief and joy were keen realities to her sensitive soul. but she quieted herself as a child before the lord, and he gave her the ornament which is without price. though she wist not, her face shone, and we, remembering, know that she had been with jesus. her sister, mrs. holtsclaw, writes: "we are of huguenot descent on our father's side. our great-great-grandfather was born at sea in the flight from france to england. two brothers (in that generation or the one following) came to america, one settling in north carolina, the other in new england. our grandfather left north carolina when father was a small boy, because he thought slavery wrong, and did not wish his children exposed to its influences. "grandmother huggins was a sister of rev. james gilliland of red oak, ohio. she was a very earnest christian, and often prayed that her descendants, to the latest generation, might be honest, humble followers of jesus. "eliza was converted, and united with the church in felicity, ohio, under the pastorate of rev. smith poage. she was, i think, about twelve years of age." she was a most loving daughter, sister, and friend, because she had given herself unreservedly to him who yearns to be more than friend, mother, or brother to us all. when heavy bereavements came upon the family, jesus kept their hearts from breaking. the dear father went the way of all the earth. then a brother-in-law, who was a brother indeed; then the elder brother, tried and true, in an instant of time, speeds home to heaven; and again a younger brother, in his bright youth; these three were the family's offering upon the altar of freedom. a costly offering! a heavy price paid! "though he slay me, yet will i trust in him." for seven years miss huggins taught school as continuously as her health permitted. her methods as a teacher were followed by peculiar success. she loved children, and had a most earnest desire to help them up to all that is best and wisest in life. children know by instinct whose is the firm yet loving hand stretched out to lead them in the paths of pleasantness and peace. some of this time she taught in the mission school. her sister says:-- "i cannot write of her long sickness, her intense suffering, her patient waiting to see what the lord had in store for her; all this is too painful for me. st. anthony, where she first came with such bright hopes of finding health, was the place from which she went to her long rest. it was the place where she found cure. "the dakota text-book, which she and nannie prepared, was a labor of much thought and prayer. it was not published until after she had gone home." mignonette and sweet violets may well be emblem flowers for this lovely sister. would that i might strew them on her grave, in the early summer-time, as a farewell till we meet again. nancy jane williamson. by m. r. m. when an army marches on under fire, and one after another falls by the way, the ranks close up that there may ever be an unbroken front before the foe. so in life's battle, as one by one drops out of the ranks, we who are left must needs _march on_. yet, if we stop a little to think and talk of the ones gone, it may help us as we press forward. then, to-day let us bring to mind something of the life of a sister departed. nannie j. williamson was born at lac-qui-parle, minn., on the th of july, . from her birth she was afflicted with disease of the spine, so that she was almost two years old before she walked at all, and then her ankles bent and had to be bound in splints. "aunt jane" mentions that nannie was in her fourth year when she first saw her, and at that time, when the children went out to play, her brother john either carried her or drew her in a little wagon, to save her the fatigue of walking. so she must have truly borne the yoke in her youth. that the burden was not lifted as the years went by, we may judge from the facts that when away at school, both in galesburg, ill., and oxford, ohio, she was under the care of a physician; and she almost always studied her lessons lying on her back. though her days were stretched out to her th year, her body never fully ripened into womanhood, and her heart never lost the sweetness and simplicity of the child. it was not so with her mind. overleaping the body, with a firm and strong grasp, it took up every object of thought, and filled its storehouse of knowledge. "the date of her conversion is not known. she loved jesus from a child." in the fall of our family moved to within two miles of dr. williamson's new station of pay-zhe-hoo-ta-zee, or yellow medicine. from that time we were intimately associated, and many delightful memories are connected with those days. in september, , nannie went to the w. f. seminary at oxford, ohio. she made many friends among her school-mates, and all respected her for her consistent character, her faithfulness in her studies, and her earnestness in seeking to bring others to christ. one with more thankful humility never lived. she was always so very grateful for the least favor or kindness done her, and seemed ever to bear them in mind. she was exceedingly thoughtful for other people, never seemed to think evil of any one, and never failed to find kindly excuses for one's conduct if excuses were possible. after the burning of the seminary building, the senior class, of which nannie was one, finished their studies in a house secured for that purpose. then followed the sorrowful days of ' , that broke up so many homes, ours among others. some time after, nannie wrote this: "it is a little more than a year since we left our dear old homes. i wonder if our paths will ever lie so near together again as they have in times past. who can tell? but though we may _seem_ to be far apart, we trust we are journeying to the same place, and we shall meet _there_." during the months that nannie's mother waited to be released from earthly suffering, the daughter spared none of her strength to do what she could for the faithful, patient mother. after there was nothing more to do on earth for that mother, then indeed nannie felt the effects of the long strain on body and mind. even then her nights were painful and unresting. but, after recruiting a little, she entered upon the work to which her thoughts had often turned, that of uplifting the dakota women and children. in , "she joined her brother, rev. j. p. williamson, in missionary labor, at yankton agency, dakota territory, under the presbyterian board of foreign missions, and continued in it until her death, november , ." "her knowledge of the scriptures was such that the minister scarcely needed any other concordance when she was by, and during her last illness every conversation was accompanied with scripture quotations. "notwithstanding her physical weakness, she taught school and did much other work; and, as all was consecrated to the lord, we are sure she has much fruit in glory. many in the sabbath-schools of traverse and st. peter received lessons from her, whose impression will last to eternity." in the spring of , she went to ohio on the occasion of a reunion of the first five graduating classes of the w. f. seminary, oxford, ohio. she desired with great desire to meet her class-mates, and the beloved principal, miss helen peabody; and also to visit relatives, among them two aged aunts, one of whom crossed over to the other side a little before her. she took great delight in her visit, and yet her nights were wearisome, and she was probably not entirely comfortable at any time. but she did not complain. on her last visit home her face bore the impress of great suffering. it was with difficulty she could raise either hand to her head, and could only sleep with her arms supported on pillows. they would fain have kept her at home, but she longed to do what she could as long as she could. so she went back, taught in the school, visited the sick, read from the bible in the tents, and prayed. in her last illness some of these women came and prayed with her, and so comforted her greatly. she did not forget her brother's children, in her anxiety for the heathen around them, and they will long remember aunt nannie's prayerful instructions. with so little strength as she had, it was not strange that, when fever prostrated her, she could not rally again. so she lay for nearly eight weeks, suffering much, but trusting much also. at times she hoped to be able to work again for the women, if the lord willed. but when she knew that her earthly life was nearly ended, she sent this message to her aunt: "do not grieve, dear aunt, though i had desired to do much for these women and girls, the prospect of heaven is very sweet." for a while she had said now and then: "i wonder how long i shall have to lie here and wait," but one day she remarked, "i do not feel at all troubled now about how long i may have to wait: jesus has taken that all away." when any one came in to see her, she said a few words, and as the school children were gathered around her one day she talked to them a little while for the last time. two days before her death, she dictated a letter to her father, who had himself been very near death's door, but was recovering: "i do rejoice that god has restored you to health again. i trust that years of usefulness and happiness may still be yours. i am gaining both in appetite and strength. i feel a good deal better." but the night that followed was a sleepless one, and the next day she suffered greatly. about dark her brother said to her, "you have suffered a great deal to-day." she answered, "yes, but the worst is over now." he said, "jesus will send for you," and she replied, "yes, i think he will, for he says, 'i will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where i am.'" she spoke now and then to different ones, a word or two, asked them to read some scripture texts from the "silent comforter" that hung where she could always see it, wanted it to be turned over, and, with her face to the wall, she seemed to go to sleep. she so continued through the night, her breath growing fainter and fainter. and at day-break on the morning of the sabbath the other life began. "_that is the substance, this the shadow; that the reality, this the dream._" julia la framboise. julia a. la framboise was the daughter of a french trader and of a dakota mother. when nine years of age, her father placed her in mr. huggins' family. in that christian home she learned to love her saviour, and, one year later, covenanted forever to be his. her father was a catholic, and would have preferred that his daughter remain in that church, but allowed her to choose for herself. his affection for her and hers for him was very strong. after her father's death, julia determined to use her property in obtaining an education. she spent two years in the mission school at hazelwood, then going to the w. f. seminary, oxford, ohio, and for a short time to painesville, ohio, and afterward to rockford, ill. having taken a full course of study there, she returned to minnesota as a teacher. our mother had a warm affection for julia, as indeed for each of the others of whom we write. julia called our house one of her homes, and, whenever with us, she took a daughter's share in the love and labor of the household. a story of my mother's childhood illustrates the spirit of benevolence by which she influenced miss la framboise among others. her surviving sister, mrs. lucretia s. cooley, writes:-- "when the first missionaries from the vicinity of my early home, mr. and mrs. richards of plainfield, went to the sandwich islands, sister mary was a little girl. she was deeply impressed by the story of the wants of the children, as portrayed by mr. richards, and expressed a strong desire to accompany him. she had just learned to sew quite nicely. looking up to mother, she said, 'i could teach the little girls to sew.' here was the missionary spirit. those who go to the indians, to the islands of the sea, to africa, must needs be ready to teach all things, doing it as to the lord." when the call to teach among her own people came, miss la framboise gladly embraced the opportunity, laboring for them in season and out of season for two short years. her health failing, she was taken to her old home in minnesota, where she died, september , , but twenty-eight years of age. mrs. holtsclaw, one of her girlhood friends, went to her in that last sickness. she wrote: "i was with her when she died. it was beautiful to see the steady care and gentle devotion of her step-mother, of the rest of the family, and of the neighbors." miss la framboise was thoroughly educated, thoroughly the lady; always loyal to her people, even when they were most hated and despised; always generous in her deeds and words; always to be depended upon. oh, could we but have kept her to work many years for the ennobling and christianizing of the dakotas! bring lilies of the prairie for this grand-daughter of a chieftain--ay, more, this daughter of the king! i. r. w. the family reunion.-- . eighteen years had gone by since the family were all together on mission ground. that was in the summer of . in the summer of , alfred had graduated at knox college, illinois; and isabella returned with him from the western female seminary, ohio. they gladly arrived at home, in borrowed clothes, having trod together "the burning deck" of a mississippi river steamboat. all were together then. that fall, martha went to the western female seminary, and was there when the school building was burned in . after that she came home, and isabella went back to graduate. in the meantime, alfred had become a member of the theological seminary of chicago. and so it happened that all were not at home again together until the summer of . then came the sioux outbreak, and the breaking-up of the mission home. though a new home was made at st. anthony, and then at beloit, it never came to pass that all were together at any one time. then new home centres grew up. alfred was married in june, . isabella was married in february, , and very soon sailed for china. martha was married in december of the same year, and went to live in minnesota. the dear mother went to the upper home in march, . alfred moved to the mission field at santee agency, nebraska, in june, . anna was married in october of the same year and moved to iowa. while martha, the same autumn, removed to open the missionary home at the sisseton agency. in may, , a new mother came in, to keep the hearthstone bright at the beloit home. in february of , thomas went to fort sully to commence a new station, and was married in december of the same year. meanwhile henry, robert, and cornelia were growing up to manhood and womanhood, and getting their education by books and hard knocks. henry was married in september, , and robert was tutor in beloit college, and cornelia a teacher in the beloit city schools. at these new home centers children had been growing up. at kalgan, china, there were _six_; at santee, neb., _five_; at sisseton, d. t., _four_; at vinton, iowa, _three_, and at fort sully, d. t., _one_. another sister had also come at the beloit home. and now the chinese cousins were coming home to the america they had never seen. so it was determined that on their arrival there should be a family meeting. but where should it be? every home was open and urged its advantages. but santee agency, nebraska, united more of the requisite conditions of central position and roomy accommodations. and, besides, it was eminently fitting that the meeting should be held on missionary ground. and so from early in july on to september the clan was gathering. first came rev. mark williams and isabella, with their six children, fresh from china, finding the santee indian reservation the best place to become acclimated to america gradually. father riggs and martha riggs morris, with three of her children, from sisseton agency, arrived the th of august. on the th came anna riggs warner, with her three children, from vinton, iowa. mother riggs with little edna arrived on the th, from beloit, wis. mr. wyllys k. morris and harry, their eldest son, came across the country by wagon, and drove in saturday evening, the th of august. thomas l. riggs and little theodore, with robert b. riggs, and mary cornelia octavia riggs, and their caravan, did not arrive from fort sully until tuesday afternoon of the d of september. alfred l. and mary b. riggs, and henry m. and lucy d. riggs were of course already there, as they were at home, and the entertainers of the gathering. now the family were gathered, and this is the _roll_:-- stephen return riggs, born in steubenville, ohio, march , ; married, february , , to mary ann longley, who was born november , , in hawley, mass., and died march , , in beloit, wis. i. alfred longley riggs, born at lac-qui-parle, minn., december , ; married june , , to mary buel hatch, who was born may , , at leroy, n. y. children: frederick bartlett, born at lockport, ill., july , ; cora isabella, born at centre, wis., august , ; mabel, born at santee agency, nebraska, september , ; olive ward, born at santee agency, nebraska, june , ; stephen williamson, born at santee agency, nebraska, april , . ii. isabella burgess riggs, born at lac-qui-parle, minn., february , ; married february , , to rev. w. mark williams, who was born october , , in new london, ohio. children: henrietta blodget, born at kalgan, china, september , ; stephen riggs, born at kalgan, china, august , ; emily diament, born at kalgan, china, may , ; mary eliza, born at kalgan, china, august , ; margaret and anna, born at kalgan, china, may , . iii. martha taylor riggs, born at lac-qui-parle, minn., january , ; married december , , to wyllys king morris, who was born in hartford, conn., september , . children: henry stephen, born at sterling, minn., june , ; philip alfred, born at good will, d. t., august , , and died at binghamton, n. y., august , ; mary theodora, born at good will, d. t., july , ; charles riggs, born at good will, d. t., june , ; nina margaret foster, born at good will, d. t., may , . iv. anna jane riggs, born at traverse des sioux, minn., april , ; married october , , to horace everett warner, who was born january , , near painesville, ohio. children: marjorie, born at belle plaine, iowa, september , ; arthur hallam, born in vinton, iowa, october , ; everett longley, born in vinton, iowa, july , . v. thomas lawrence riggs, born at lac-qui-parle, minn., june , ; married december , , to cornelia margaret foster, who was born in bangor, me., march , , and died august , , at fort sully, d. t. child: theodore foster, born near fort sully, d. t., july , . vi. henry martyn riggs, born at lac-qui-parle, minn., september , ; married september , , to lucy m. dodge, who was born at grafton, mass., february , . vii. robert baird riggs, born at hazelwood, minn., may , . viii. mary cornelia octavia riggs, born at hazelwood, minn., february , . stephen r. riggs married, may , , mrs. annie baker ackley, who was born march , , in granville, ohio. ix. edna baker riggs, born at beloit, wis., december , . the sons and daughters brought into the original family by marriage contributed much to the success of the reunion. the cousins will not soon forget the inimitable stories of uncle mark. horace e. warner wrote a charming letter, proving conclusively that he was really present; while uncle wyllys must have gained the perpetual remembrance of the boys by taking them swimming. mary hatch riggs was the unflagging main-spring of the whole meeting. lucy dodge riggs presided hospitably at the "young men's hall," where many of the guests were entertained; and the new mother, annie baker riggs, won the love of all. it would not have been a perfect meeting without seeing the face of john p. williamson, the elder brother of the mission. then, too, there was our friend rev. joseph ward, whose home at yankton has so often been the "house beautiful" to our missionary pilgrims. we were also favored with the presence of many of our missionary women: mrs. hall of fort berthold, misses collins and irvine, from fort sully, and misses shepard, paddock, webb, and skea, of santee. the children will long remember the party given them by miss shepard in the dakota home, and the picnic on the hill. it is impossible to give any adequate report of such a reunion. the renewal of acquaintance, taking the bearings of one another's whereabouts in mental and spiritual advance, is more through chit-chat and incidental revelations than in any of the things that can be told. and so we gather in as memorials and reminders some of the papers read at the evening sociables, and some paragraphs from reports of the reunion published in the _word carrier_ and _advance_. first, we will have isabella's paper, the story of that long journey home--by land and by sea:-- "ding lang, ding lang, ding lang! hear the bells. the litters are packed, the good-bys spoken. thirteen years of work in sorrow and in joy are over. 'good-by. we will pray for you all; do not forget us.' "down the narrow street, past the closely crowded houses of more crowded inmates, beyond the pale green of the gardens, on the stony plain, and our long journey is begun. "eight hours and the first inn is reached, we having made a twenty-five-mile stage. over rocks and river, fertile lake-bed; desert plain, and through mountain-gorge, we creep our way, till, on the fifth day, the massive walls of peking loom up before us. "here there are cordial greetings from warm hearts, and willing hands stretched out to help. best of all is the inspiration of mission meeting, with its glad, good news from shantung province. "by cart and by canal boat again away. at tientsin we ride by starlight, in jinrickshas, to the steamer. how huge the monster! how broad seems the river, covered here and yonder, and again yonder, with fleets of boats! "we ensconce ourselves in the assigned state-rooms, and little anna's foster-mother keeps a vigil by the child so soon to be hers no more. 'farewell, farewell.' "gray morning comes, and the ponderous engine begins his work. we move past boats, ships, steamers, past the fort at taku, out on the open sea. no one sings, 'a life on the ocean wave,' or 'murmuring sea,' for our 'day of youth went yesterday.' the enthusiasm of early years is gone. instead, i read reverently the th psalm, verses , . then with the strong, glad, spray-laden breeze on one's face, it is fitting to read, 'the lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea.' 'let the sea roar, and the fullness thereof. let the floods clap their hands ... before the lord.' 'the sea is his and he made it.' 'the earth is full of thy riches. so is this great and wide sea. there go the ships: there is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein.' "five days, and we steam up through the low, flat, fertile shores of woo sung river to shanghai. "ho for the land of the rising sun! two days we sail over a silver sea; yonder is nagasaki, and now a heavy rain reminds us that this is japan. on through the inland sea. how surpassingly beautiful are the green hills and mountains on every side. "at kobe we receive a delightful welcome from mr. c. h. gulick's family, and on the morrow we meet our former co-laborer in the kalgan work, rev. j. t. gulick. ten days of rest, and our little anna is herself again. she is round and fair and sweet, and every one laughingly says she is more like our hostess than like me. "again away, in a floating palace, fitly named city of tokio. we glide out of sight of japan, with hearts strangely stirred by god's work in that land. "one sail after another disappears, until we are alone on the great ocean. water, water, water everywhere. "our days are all alike. constant care of the children and thoughts of home and beloved ones keep hand and heart busy. the events of each day are breakfast, tiffin, and dinner, daintily prepared, and faultlessly served by deft and noiseless waiters. we think it a pleasant variety when a stiff breeze makes the waves run high. the table racks are on, yet once and again a glass of water or a plate of soup goes over. we turn our plates at the proper angle, when the long roll begins, and unconcernedly go on. "one day of waves mountain high, which sweep us on to our desired haven. on the eighteenth day we see the shore of beautiful america. how the heart beats! so soon to see father, brothers, and sisters! thank god. aye, thank him too for the manifold mercies of our journey. "how strange and yet familiar are the sights and sounds of san francisco. the children's eyes shine as they plan and execute raids on a toy store. "there is yet the land journey of thousands of miles. by night and by day we speed on; across gorge, through tunnel and snow-shed, over the alkali plains, over fertile fields to omaha. "at last we arrive in yankton, and a cheery voice makes weary hearts glad. 'i am mr. ward. your brother henry is here.' ah, is that henry! how he has changed from boyhood to manhood! "'over the hills and far away.' here we are! how beautiful the mission houses look! and the dear familiar faces! rest and home at last for a little while. 'for here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.'" but journeying may be done much more quickly by thought, and spirit may go as quick as thought. so here is the account of horace e. warner's thought journey to the family meeting:-- "if there has seemed to be any lack of interest on my part in the family reunion, it is only in the seeming. for my decision to stay at home was made with deep regret, and after the slaying of much strong desire. but, aside from the gratification which it would have given me to see you all, and which i hope it would have given you to see me, i do not think the idea of the meeting is impaired by my absence. only this--i feel as though i had, not wilfully nor willingly, but none the less certainly, cut myself off from that sympathy--in the greek sense--which i stood in much need of, and can ill afford to miss. "i suppose you are now all together with one accord in one place, so far as that is possible. to be _all_ together would require the union of two worlds. and this may be, too,--shall we not say it is so? but if the dear ones from the unseen world are present, though you can not hear their speech nor detect their presence by any of the senses, can not you feel that i am really with you in some sense too? of course, the difference is great, but so also the difference is great between the meeting of friends in the natural body and the spiritual body. if the mind, the soul, constitutes the man rather than the animal substances, or the myriad cells which make up his physical organization, why may not i leap over the insignificant barrier that divides us? as i write, this feeling is very strong with me. it is vague and indefinite, but yet it seems to me that i have been having some kind of communication or communion with you. at all events, my heart goes out strongly toward you all with fervent desire that the meeting will be full of joy and comfort--of sweetest and spiritual growth--the occasion of new inspiration, new courage, new hopes. it is not likely that there can be any repetition of it this side of the 'city which hath foundations.' "so the memories of this meeting should be the sweetest, and should cluster thick around you in the years of separation. this much i must perforce miss. for though i do truly rejoice in your joys, and partake with you of the gladness of the meeting after so long a time; yet it is only by imagination and sympathy that i make myself one with you, and of this the future can have no recollection." now we will let others give their thoughts of the meeting, as it seemed to them from outside. and, first, a few words from rev. john p. williamson of yankton agency:-- "the first week in september, , will long be remembered by the riggs family, and by one or two who were not riggses. from the east and the west, from the north and the south, and from across the mighty pacific, they gathered at the eldest brother's house, at santee agency, nebraska, for a family reunion. it was forty-two years last february since stephen return riggs married mary ann longley and came out as a missionary to the dakotas; and now in his sixty-eighth year, his step still light, and his heart still young, he walks in to his son's house to find himself surrounded by nine children, three sons-in-law, two daughters-in-law, and nineteen grandchildren; with himself and wife making a company of thirty-five, and all present except one son-in-law. "this roll may never be as interesting to universal mankind as that in the tenth chapter of genesis, but it is almost extended enough to evolve a few general truths. if we were to pick these up, our first deduction would be that _like begets like_. this man has certainly given more than his proportion of missionaries. and why, except that like begets like? he was a missionary, his children partook of his spirit, and became missionaries. we heard some mathematical member of the company computing the number of years of missionary service the family had rendered. the amount has slipped our memory, but we should say it was over one hundred and fifty. "our other deduction would be that the missionary profession is a healthy one. here is a family of no uncommon physical vigor, and yet not a single death occurred among the children, who are in goodly number. true, the mother of the family has finished her work and crossed the river to wait with her longing smile the coming children, but another ministers in her room, who has added little aunt edna to the list, to stand before her father when the rest are far away." next, we have the observations of rev. joseph ward of yankton:-- "families have their characteristic points as well as individuals. the family of rev. s. r. riggs, d.d., is no exception to this. their characteristics all point in one direction. it is notably a missionary family. it began on missionary ground forty-two years ago at lac-qui-parle, minn. from that time until the present the name of the family head has always appeared in the list of missionaries of the american board. one after another the names of the children have been added to the list, until now we find alfred, isabella, martha, thomas, henry, attached to the mission; and doing genuine missionary work, though not bearing a commission from the board, are two more, robert and cornelia. "what place more suitable for the meeting together of father, children, and children's children--thirty-four all told, counting those who have joined the family by marriage--than santee agency, nebraska, a mission station of the a. b. c. f. m. "though not of the family, i was honored by an invitation to attend the meeting, assured that a 'bed and a plate would be reserved for me'; and so, on the first tuesday of september, i stood on the bank of the missouri, opposite the agency, waiting for the ferry-man to set me across. i came at the right time, for presently the delegation from fort sully drove their two teams to the landing, and in a moment more rev. j. p. williamson, with his oldest daughter, from yankton agency, were added to our number. "they came from the east and the west and the north. these from sisseton, these from sully, and these from the land of sinim, for the oldest daughter and her husband, rev. mark williams, have been for thirteen years in kalgan, northern china, and now for the first time come back to see the father and the fatherland. the personal part of the meeting i have no right to mention. i speak only of its missionary character. the very prudential committee itself, in its weekly meetings, cannot be more thoroughly imbued with a missionary spirit than was every hour of this reunion. and how could it be otherwise? all the reminiscences were of their home on missionary ground, at lac-qui-parle, at traverse des sioux, and at hazelwood. did they talk of present duties and doings? what could they have for their theme but life at kalgan, at good will, at santee, and at sully! did they look forward to what they would do after the family meeting was over? the larger part were to go two hundred miles and more overland, to attend the annual meeting of the indian churches at brown earth. and, besides, how to reach out from their present stations and seize new points for work was the constant theme of thought. "wednesday evening there was a gathering of the older ones and the larger children. the father read a sketch recalling a few incidents of the family life. the reading brought now laughter and then tears. forty-two years could not come and go without leaving many a sorrow behind. "the mother, who had lived her brave life for a third of a century among the indians, was not there. a beautiful crayon portrait, hung that day for the first time over the piano, was a sadly sweet reminder of her whose body was laid to rest only a year ago among the teetons, on the banks of the upper missouri. then another paper of memories from one of the daughters, lighted with joy and shaded with sorrow, a few words of cheer and counsel from the oldest son, and a talk in chinese from the celestial member, were the formal features of the evening. "as i sat in the corner of the study and heard and saw, there came to me, clearer than ever before, the wonderful power there is in a consecrated life. well did one of them say that if they had gained any success in their work, it was by singleness of purpose. 'this one thing i do' could well be the family motto. they have not been assigned to a prominent place in the work of the world, but rather to the most hidden and hopeless part. but, by their persistence of purpose, they have done much to lift up and make popular, in a good sense, missionary work in general, and particularly work for the indians. it is a record that will shine brighter and brighter through the ages. eight children and thirteen grandchildren born on missionary ground, and a total of one hundred and fifty-eight years of missionary work. "but the end is not yet. they have just begun to get their implements into working order. their training-schools are just beginning to bear fruit. most fittingly, a few days before the gathering began, came a large invoice of the entire bible in dakota, the joint work of dr. riggs and his beloved friend and fellow-worker, dr. williamson, who has just gone home to his rest. at the same time came the final proof-sheets of a goodly-sized hymn and tune book for the dakotas, mainly the work of the eldest sons of the two translators of the bible. the harvest that has been is nothing to the harvest that is to be. dr. riggs may reasonably hope to see more stations occupied, more books made, more churches organized in the future than he has seen in the past. when the final record is made, he will have the title to a great rejoicing that he and his family were permitted by the master to do so much to make a sinful world loyal again to its rightful lord." martha's paper, which was read on that occasion, is a very touching description of a missionary journey made under difficulties, six years before, from sisseton to yankton agency. "going to mission meeting. "as i sit on the doorsteps in the twilight, the little ones asleep in their beds, i hear a solitary attendant on the choir-meeting singing. his voice rings out clearly on the night air:-- "'jesus christ nitowashte kin woptecashni mayaqu'-- singing it to the tune, watchman. "that tune has a peculiar fascination and association for me, and my thoughts often go back over the time when i first heard it. "it was in the month of roses, in the year ' , that, in company with some of the renvilles and others, i undertook a land journey to the missouri. i had with me the lad harry, then five years old, and a sunny-haired boy of nearly a year, little philip alfred. he never knew his name here. does he know it now? or has he another, an 'angel name'? "the rains had been abundant, and the roads were neither very good nor very well traveled. so some unnecessary time was spent in winding about among marshes, and we made slow progress. more than once we came to a creek or a slough where the water came into the wagons. the indian women shouldered their babies and bundles as well, and trudged through, with the exception of ellen phelps and mrs. elias gilbert. their husbands were so much of white men as to shoulder their wives and carry them across. being myself a privileged person, i was permitted to ride over, first mounting the seat to the wagon, holding on for dear life to the wagon-bows with one hand, and to the sunny-haired boy with the other. "by the end of the week we had only reached the big sioux, which we found up and booming. i was crossed over in a canoe with my two children, the stout arms of two indian women paddling me over. then we climbed up the bank, and waited for the wagons to come around by some more fordable place down below. while waiting, i talked awhile with mrs. wind, who had been a neighbor of ours on the coteau. her lawful husband, a man of strong and ungoverned passions, had grown tired of her and taken another woman. so mrs. wind, who had borne with his overbearing and his occasional beatings, quietly left him. this was an indignity her proud spirit could not brook. she went to the river bend settlement to live with her son, and there i saw her. i said to her, 'shall you go back to the hill country?' 'no,' she said; 'the man has taken another wife, and i shall not go.' i have since heard of her from time to time, and she still remains faithful. "the sabbath over, we went on again re-inforced by the delegation from flandreau. reaching sioux falls in the afternoon, we avoided the town, and went on to a point where some one thought the river might be fordable. but alas! we found we had been indulging in vain expectations. the river was not fordable, and canoe or ferry-boat there was none. but necessity is the mother of invention. the largest and strongest wagon-box was selected, the best wagon-cover laid on the ground, the boat lifted in, and, with the aid of various ropes, an impromptu boat was made ready. long ropes were tied securely to either end, poles laid across the box to keep things out of the water, and then the boat was launched. the men piled in the various possessions of different ones and as many women and children as they thought safe. then four of the best swimmers took the ropes and swam up the river for quite a distance, coming down with the current, and so gaining the other shore. this occupied some time, and was repeated slowly until night came on, finding the company partly on one side and partly on the other. the wagon, in which we had made our bed o' nights, not being in a condition for sleeping in, as the box lay by the river-side all water-soaked, edwin phelps and ellen, his wife, kindly vacated theirs for our benefit, themselves sleeping on the ground. when the early morning came, the camp was soon astir, and, breakfast being hastily despatched, the work of crossing over was renewed. i watched them drive over the horses; the poor animals were very loath to make a plunge, and some of them turned and ran back on the prairie more than once before they were finally forced into the water. when most of the others were over it came my turn to cross. the so-called boat looked rather shaky, but there was nothing to do but to get in and take one's chance. so i climbed in, keeping as well as i could out of the water, which seemed to nearly fill the wagon-box. some one handed the two children in, and, holding tightly to them, i resigned myself to the passage. at one time i heard a great outcry, but could not distinguish any words, and so sat still, unconscious that one of the ropes had broken, rendering the boat more unsafe still. at last i was safely over, thankful enough. when finally every thing and everybody were across, and the boat restored to its proper place, we started on our way, at about ten o'clock in the morning. to make up for the late starting, the teams were driven hard and long, and the twilight had already gathered when we stopped for the night. after i had given my children a simple supper, and they were hushed to sleep, i looked out on the picturesque scene. the great red moon was rising in the sky, and in its light the travelers had gathered around the camp-fire for their evening devotions. as i walked across to join them, they were singing:-- "'jesus christ, nitowashte kin woptecashni mayaqu'-- "jesus christ, thy loving kindness boundlessly thou givest me'-- to the tune watchman. it struck my fancy, and i seldom hear it now without thinking of that night, and of the sunny-haired boy who was then taking his last earthly journey, and who has all these years been learning of the goodness of the lord jesus christ in all its wonderful fulness. an incident of one day's travel remains clear in my mind. the lad harry often grew tired and restless, as was not strange, and so sometimes he was somewhat careless too. in an unguarded moment, he fell out, and one of the hind wheels passed over his body. how i held my breath until the horses could be stopped and the boy reached! it seemed a great marvel that he had received no injury. it was surely the goodness of the lord that had kept him from harm. "on wednesday we came into yankton, where i bought a quantity of beef, wishing to show my appreciation of the labors of the men in our behalf. so when camp was made at night the women had it to make into soup, and, almost before it seemed that the water could have fairly boiled, all hands were called to eat of it, and it was despatched with great celerity. "the next afternoon a fierce storm broke over us, and we were compelled to stop for an hour or more, while the rain poured down in torrents and the heavens were one continual flame of light. when again we started on, every hole by the road-side had become a pool, and the water was rushing through every low place in streams. the rain retarded our progress greatly, yet we came in sight of the yankton agency before noon of the next day. just as we reached it, we found a little creek to cross, where a bridge had been washed away the night before. the banks were almost perpendicular, and we held our breath as we watched one team after another go down and come up, feeling sure that some of the horses would go down and _not_ come up again. but, to our great relief, all went safely over. and very soon we had arrived at the mission house occupied by rev. j. p. williamson and family, and were receiving the kindly welcomes of all. the hospitality there enjoyed was such as to make us almost forget our tedious journey thitherward. "from my traveling companions i had received all possible kindness, yet in many ways i had found the journey quite trying. it was not practicable to vary one's diet very much, with the care of the little ones just large enough to get into all mischief imaginable. so i remembered with especial gratitude edwin and ellen phelps, who used now and then, at our stopping-places, to _borrow_ the boy, so helping me to get a little rest or to do some necessary work which would otherwise have been impossible. at that time edwin and his wife had no children, and their eyes often followed my boy with yearning looks. since then the lord has given them little ones to train for his kingdom, and they are happy. "but of that little sunny-haired baby boy we have naught but a memory left--and this consolation:-- "'christ, the good shepherd, carries my lamb to-night, and that is best.' "and this:-- "'mine entered spotless on eternal years, oh, how much blest!'" during the meeting the tastes and needs of the children were not forgotten, but aunt anna held them attent to her memories of the old home-life, written for the grandchildren. "shut your eyes, and see with me the home place at lac-qui-parle--a square house with a flat roof, a broad stone step before the wide-open door--cheery and sunshiny within. welcome to grandfather's home! "to the right, in the distance, is the lake mdeiyedan, where, like a tired child, the sun dropped his head to rest each night. between us and the lake was a wooded ravine, at the foot of which, down that little by-path, was the coolest of springs, with wild touch-me-nots nodding above it, and a little further on a large boulder on which we used to play. "it seems to us as if we had but just come in from a long summer's walk, with our hands full of flowers, and each and every one must have a bouquet to set in his or her favorite window. the wind, blowing softly, brings with it a breath of sweet cleavers, and--well, so i must tell you what i remember. "i can not stop to tell you of all the little things that made our home pleasant and lovely in our eyes; or of the dear mother who had it in her keeping, for i know all the grandchildren are waiting for their stories. "well, i will begin by telling the wee cousins about the family cat, nelly bly, and one of her kittens, charlotte corday. kittens have some such cunning ways, you know, but nelly bly was one of the knowingest and best. she and her kitten were as much alike as two peas in a pod--jet-black, and with beautiful yellow-green eyes. nelly bly used to curl herself up to sleep in grandpa's fur cap, or sometimes in grandma's work-basket; and if she could do neither, she would find a friendly lap. one day poor pussy chose much too warm a place. grandma had started up the kitchen fire, and was making preparations for dinner when she heard pussy mewing piteously--as she thought, in some other room. she went to the doors one by one to let pussy in, and no pussy appeared, but still she heard her mewing as if in pain. what could grandma do? she was neither down cellar nor up-stairs. she would look out-of-doors--but no--just then pussy screamed in an agony of pain. grandma ran to the stove, opened the door, and pussy, as if shot out from a cannon's mouth, came flying past us--her back singed and her poor little paws all burned. i can't tell whether she learned the moral of that lesson or not, but i know she never was shut up in the oven again. "yet not so very long after, when the old house was burned, nelly bly and charlotte corday found a sadder fate. poor little kittens!--we spent hour after hour searching for their bones, but with small success, and then we buried them with choking sobs and eyes wet with childish tears. "do not let me forget to tell you of pembina and flora, nor of the starry host that bedecked our barn-yard sky--every calf, however humble, was worthy of a name. there were our oxen, dick and darby, george and jolly, and leo and scorpio, who used to weave along with stately swinging tread under their burden of hay. then spika and denebola, luna and lyra--all worthy of honorable mention. flora, gentle, but with an eye that terrified the little maid who sometimes milked her,--so, with wise forethought, a handful of salt was sometimes thrown into the bottom of her pail. you will hardly believe it, but she grew to be so fond of her pail that she found her way into the winter kitchen and anticipated her evening meal. how she ever got through two gates and two doors is a mystery still. "and there was pembina--how well we remember the day when grandpa brought home a new cow, and how we all went down to meet him, and named her and her calf, little dorrit, on the spot. she was the children's cow _par excellence_, and blessings on her, we could all milk at a time. she had several bad habits, one of which was eating old clothes and paper, or rubbish generally. once i remember she made a vain attempt at swallowing a beet, and if grandpa had not come in the nick of time to beat her on the back she would have been dead beat. "our horses, too, were a part of the family. there were polly and phenie, short for napoleon bonaparte and josephine--fanny and tattycoram (we had been reading dickens then). "i remember hearing our own mother tell of the ox they had when they lived at traverse des sioux, their only beast of burden, and how he used to stand and lick the window-panes, and how when the indians shot him she felt as if she had lost a friend and companion. "if these stories of our dear animal friends grow too tiresome, i might remember about the squill family at hazelwood--how they all, including timothy and theophilus, contributed something every week to a family paper. i wonder if theophilus remembers writing an essay for--with red ink from his arm--and how isabella said, 'now, be brave, martha, be brave!' when she was letting herself down from the topmost round of the ladder--and how isabella, when beheading the pope in her fanatical zeal, split her forefinger with a chisel. "these are a very few only of the rememberings--some of them are too sacred and too dear to speak about--but even these little incidents seem endeared by the long stretch of years." some memories of former days were _revived_ for the older children, and _imparted_ to the younger ones, by the father's paper:-- i remember. as one grows old, memory is, in some sense, unreliable. it does not _catch and hold_ as it once did. but many things of long ago are the things best remembered. often there is error in regard to dates. the mind sees the things or the events vividly, but the surroundings are dim and uncertain. what is aimed at in this paper is to gather up, or rather select, some events lying along the family line and touching personal character. the family commences with the mother. i remember well my first visit to bethlehem, ind., where i first met mary, with whom i had been corresponding, having had an introduction through rev. dyer burgess. that was in the spring. my second visit to the same place was in the autumn of , when the school-mistress and i went on to new england together. first visit to massachusetts. of that journey eastward, and the winter spent in hawley, i should naturally remember a good many things: how when the stage from albany and troy put us down in charlemont, we hired a boy with a one-horse wagon to carry us six miles to hawley. but when we came to going up the steep, rough, long hill, such as i had never climbed before, the horse could only scramble up with the baggage alone. how we reached the longley homestead in a real november storm, only a few days before thanksgiving, and were greeted by the grandparents, ninety years old, and by the father and mother and brothers and sisters--all of whom, except moses, have since gone to the other side. how only a day after our arrival i was waited upon by a committee of the west hawley church, and engaged to preach for them during the winter. how every saturday i walked down to pudding hollow and preached on sabbath, and usually walked up on monday, when i did not get snowed in. how the first pair of boots i ever owned, bought in ohio, proved to be too small to wade in snow with, and had to be abandoned. how the old family horse had a knack of turning us over into snow-drifts. how on our first visit to buckland, the grandfather taylor, then about ninety-five years old, when he was introduced to mary ann's future husband, a young minister from the west, asked, "did you ever think what a good horseman jesus christ was? why, he rode upon a colt that had never been broke." how the old meeting-house on the hill, with its square pews and high pulpit, creaked and groaned in the storm of our wedding day, february , . how we left in the first days of march, when the snow-drifts on the hills were still fifteen feet deep. march, april, may passed, and the first day of june we landed at fort snelling, in the land of the dakotas. when another three moons were passed by, and we had seen st. anthony and minnehaha, and made some acquaintance with the natives, i remember we took passage, with our effects, on board a mackinaw boat for traverse des sioux. the boat was in command of mr. prescott, who accommodated us with tent-room on the journey, and made the week pass comfortably for us. from traverse des sioux to lac-qui-parle we had our first experience of prairie traveling and camping. it was decidedly a new experience. but we had the company of dr. williamson and mr. g. h. pond, while we commenced to learn the lesson. at lac-qui-parle. the long, narrow room, partly under the roof, of dr. williamson's log house, which became our home for nearly five years from that september, is one of the memories that does not fade. on the th of december i remember coming home from mr. renville's, where we had been all the afternoon obtaining translations. then there was hurrying to and fro, and the first baby came into our family of two. from that time on we were three, and the little zitkadan-washta, as the indians named him, grew as other children grow, and did what most children don't do, _viz._, learn to go _down_ stairs before he did _up_, because we lived upstairs, and all children can manage to go away from home, when they can't or won't come back of themselves. in those years our annual allowance from the treasury of the board was $ . this was more than the other families in the mission had proportionally. but it required considerable economy and great care in expenditure to make the ends meet. not knowing the price of quinine, and thinking four ounces could not be a great amount, we were much surprised to find the bill $ . but dr. turner of fort snelling kindly took it off our hands. once we were discussing the question of how much additional expense the baby would be, when i said, "about two dollars." thereafter mr. s. w. pond, who was present at the time, called the boy "mazaska nonpa." a pleasant trip. in the second month of , our _three_ became _four_. and when the leaves came out and the flowers began to appear, the mother had a great desire to go somewhere. but the only place to go was to fort snelling. and so, leaving chaskay and taking hapan, we crossed the prairie to the traverse des sioux in company with mr. renville's caravan. the expectation was that the fur company's boat would be there. but it was not; nor even a canoe, save a little leaky one, which barely aided us in crossing the st. peters. the journey through the big woods was over logs and through swamps and streams for seventy-five miles. we had two horses but no saddle. our tent and bedding and such things as we must have on the journey were strapped on the horses. the mother rode one,--not very comfortable, as may be supposed,--but the baby girl had a better ride on a dakota woman's back. at the end of ten miles, "le grand canoe" was found, in which they took passage. that ten miles was destined to be remembered by our return also; for there where the town of le sueur now stands our bark canoe finally failed us, and, without an indian woman to carry the baby, we walked up to the traverse, through the wet grass. altogether, that was a trip to be remembered. one other thing comes to my mind about our first "little lady." there was only one window in our upstairs room. on the outside of that the mother had a shelf fixed to set out milk on. one morning, when every one was busy or out, the little girl, not two years old, climbed out of the window and perched herself on that shelf. it gave us a good scare. journey to new england. in the first month of our family of _four_ was increased to _five_. and when the summer came on, we took a longer journey, which extended to new england. this time hapan was left behind and hapistinna and chaskay were the companions of our journey. the grandmother in hawley saw and blessed her grandchild namesake martha taylor. "good bird" says he remembers picking strawberries in the hawley meadow, where his uncle alfred was mowing, in those summer mornings. new station at traverse des sioux. a whole year passed, and we came back to the land of the dakotas, to make a new home at traverse des sioux, to experience our first great sorrow, and to consecrate our allon-bach-uth for the noble brother thomas lawrence longley. that was a garden of roses, but a village of drinking and drunken sioux; and more of trial came into our life of a little more than three years spent there than in any other equal portion. there our _wanskay_ was born, and started in life under difficulties. our family of _five_ had now become _six_. provisions of a good quality were not easily obtained. but it happened that wild rice and indian sugar were abundant, and the laws of heredity visited the sins of the parents on our third little lady child. but, with all the disadvantages of the start, the little "urchin" grew, and grew, like the others. sent back to lac-qui-parle. trouble and sorrow baptize and consecrate. the many trials attendant upon commencing our station at traverse des sioux and the oaks of weeping there had greatly endeared the place to the mother; and when, in september of , the mission voted that we should go back to lac-qui-parle, she could not see that it was duty, and went without her own consent. it was a severe trial. in a few months she became satisfied that the lord had led us. what of character the boy _hake_, who was born in the next june, inherited from these months of sadness, i know not, but as he came along up, we called him a "noble boy." the family had then reached the sacred number _seven_. in the year that followed we built a very comfortable frame-house--indeed, two of them--one for mr. jonas pettijohn's family--comfortable, except that the snow would drift in through the ash shingles. some of the older children can, perhaps, remember times when there was _more snow inside than outside_. we were up on the hill, and not under it, where dr. williamson and mr. huggins had built a dozen years before; and consequently the winter winds were fiercer, though we all thought the summers were pleasanter. in this house our _sixth_ child was born, who has no dakota cognomen. we shall call him ishakpe. the half-dozen years in which we made that house our home were full of work, broken in upon by a year spent in the east--myself in new york city chiefly. henry, who could say to enquirers, "i was two years old last september," and isabella were with their mother in massachusetts and brooklyn--martha and anna in the capital of minnesota, and thomas at the mission station of kaposia; alfred, i believe, was at galesburg, ill. educating the children. it has been a question that we often discussed, "how shall we get our children educated?" the basis of allowance from the treasury of the board had been on the principle of the methodist circuit riders. the $ with which we commenced was increased $ for each child. so that at this time our salary was either $ or $ . it was never greater than the last sum until after the outbreak in . we lived on it comfortably, but there was very little margin for sending children away to school. and now we were reaching that point in our family history when a special effort must be made in that direction. before we went on east in , the mother and i had talked the matter over--perhaps some good family would like to take one of the children to educate. and so it was, more than one good offer was received for the little boy henry. but our hearts failed us. mrs. minerva cook of brooklyn said to me, "you are afraid we will make an episcopalian of him." so near was he to being a bishop! mission house burned. many remembrances have to be passed over. the last picture i have of those mission houses at lac-qui-parle is when, on the d of march, , they were enveloped in fire. the two little boys had been down cellar to get potatoes for their mother, and, holding the lighted candle too near to the dry hay underneath the floor, the whole was soon in a conflagration, which our poor efforts could not stop. the houses were soon a heap of ashes, and the meat and many of the potatoes in the cellar were cooked. the adobe church was then our asylum, and the family home for the summer. build at hazelwood. while occupying the old church and making preparations to rebuild, secretary s. b. treat visited us. after consultation, our plans were changed, and we erected our mission buildings at hazelwood, twenty-five miles further down the minnesota, and near to dr. williamson's and the yellow medicine agency. during the eight years spent there, many things connected with the family life transpired. first among them worthy to be noted was the rounding out of the number of children to _eight_--"toonkanshena," so called by the indians--just why, i don't know--and octavia the hakakta. in those days our family education society had to devise ways and means to keep _one_ always, and sometimes _two_, away at school. by and by, zitkadan-washta graduated at knox college, and hapan and hapistinna at the western female seminary and college hill respectively. how we got them through seems even now a mystery. but i remember one year we raised a grand crop of potatoes, and sold barrels to the government for $ in gold. that was quite a lift. and so the lord provided all through--then and afterward. nothing was more remarkable in our family history for twenty-five years than its general health. we had very little sickness. i remember a week or so of doctoring on myself during our first residence at lac-qui-parle. then, the summer after our return there, the fever and ague took hold of two or three of the children. the mother also was taken sick suddenly in the adobe church, and dr. williamson and i had a night ride up from hazelwood. at this place (hazelwood) the baby boy _toonkanshena_ was sick one night, i remember, and we gave him calomel and sent for the doctor. but the most serious sickness of all these years was that of my "urchin" and henry, both together of typhoid fever. i have always believed that prayer was a part of the means of their recovery. quarter of a century. when the summer of came, it rounded out a full quarter of a century of missionary life for us. alfred had completed his seminary course, and in the meantime had grown such a heavy black beard that when he and i sat on the platform together, in a crowded church in cincinnati, the people asked which was the father and which the son. while waiting in ohio for the graduating day of hapistinna to come, i ran up to steubenville, where i was born, and walked out into the country to the old farm where my boyhood was spent. the visit was not very satisfactory. scarcely any one knew me. everything had greatly changed. the outbreak. the memories of august , , and the days that followed, are vivid, but must in the main be passed over. i can not forbear, however, to note what a sorry group we were on that island on the morning of the th. how finally the way appeared, and we filed up the ravine and started over the prairie as fugitives! how the rain came on us that afternoon, and what a sorry camping we made in the open prairie after we had crossed hawk river! how the little hakakta girl, when bed-time came, wanted to go home! how, when the rain had leaked down through the wagon-bed all night upon them, mrs. d. wilson moore thought it would be about as good to die as to live under such conditions! how hapistinna and wanskay wore off their toes walking through the sharp prairie-grass! how we stopped on the open prairie to kill a cow and bake bread and roast meat, with no pans to do it in! and how, while the process was going on, we had our picture taken! how many scares we passed through the night we passed around fort ridgely! how thus we escaped, like a bird from the snare of the fowler,--the snare was broken, and we escaped. how, when the company came to adjust their mutual obligations, nobody had any money but d. wilson moore! how those women met us on the top of the hill by henderson, and were glad to see us because we had white blood in us! how on the road we met our old friend samuel w. pond, who welcomed our family to his house at shakopee! family in st. anthony. the memories of the campaign of the next three months may be passed over, as having little connection with the family. but i remember the night when, with more than _three hundred condemnations_ in my carpet-bag, i had a long hunt at midnight for the little hired house in which the mother and children had re-commenced housekeeping. the three years in st. anthony were ones of varied experiences. wanskay had gone down to rockford. hapan and hapistinna taught school and kept house for the mother by turns. the three boys went to school. the war of the rebellion was not over, but it was nearing its end, as we soon knew, when one day the noble boy thomas brought in a paper for me to sign, giving my permission for his enlistment. i had heard and read so much of boys of sixteen going almost at once into the hospital that i threw the paper in the fire. what wilt thou have me to do? the missionary work among the dakotas was so broken up, the clouds hung so heavily over it, that i very seriously entertained the question of giving up my commission as a missionary of the american board, and turning my attention to work among white people. in my correspondence with secretary treat i proposed a kind of half-and-half work, but that was not approved. finally i wrote a letter of withdrawal, and sent it on to boston. but the prudential committee were slow to act upon it. in the meantime, rev. g. h. pond came over and gave me a long talk. he believed i should do no such thing; that the clouds would soon clear away; that the need of work such as i could give would be greater than ever before. and so it was. to me mr. pond was a prophet of the lord, sent with a special message. i wanted to know the way. and the voice said, "this is the way; walk in it." with new enthusiasm i then entered upon the work of meeting the increasing demand for school-books and for the bible. at the very beginning of the year , having completed my three months' work at the bible house in new york, in reading the proof of the entire new testament in dakota, and other parts of the bible, as well as other books, i returned to our home in st. anthony to find the mother away at the water-cure establishment. we remember that as a year of _invalidism_, of _sickness_. but the skilful physician and the summer sun wrought such a cure that in the autumn we removed to beloit. here, with comparative health, she had three and a half years of added life. the mother called away. among the new things that took place in beloit in the year was the marriage of hapan and hapistinna, the one starting off for the far-off land of the celestials, so-called, and the other to the frontier of minnesota. wanskay was then our housekeeper, and the three boys were in school. by and by the time came for the mother to be called away. it was a brief sickness, and she passed from us into the land of immortal beauty. it was a comfort to us that our first-born, zitkadan-washta, was residing near by that winter and spring of . as i remember it, three children were far away, and five gathered around the mother's grave. now, looking back over the ten years passed since that time, i seem to say:-- "my thoughts, like palms in exile, climb up to look and pray for a glimpse of that heavenly country, that seems _not_ far away." this is a good point to close and seal up the memories. for the rest, a few words may be sufficient. manifestly, as a family, god has been with us all the way, and the blessings of the lord jehovah have been upon us. forty-two years ago we went out--two alone--into the wilderness of prairie; and now we have become _one_, _two_, _three_, _four_, _five_, _six_, or more bands. * * * * * sabbath, september , wound up the precious weeks; and sabbath evening was the transfiguration of the whole. may its blessed memories tenderly abide in all our hearts! for a year or more, we had looked forward to the family meeting that was to be; but now we look back and remember with growing pleasure the meeting that was. as the wagons clattered away on monday morning, they broke the charmed spell, but each one went his own way richer than he came. a. l. r. trails through western woods [illustration: lake angus mcdonald] trails through western woods by helen fitzgerald sanders _illustrations from photographs by the author_ new york & seattle the alice harriman company copyright, , by the alice harriman company _published, july , _ the premier press new york _dedication_ _to the west that is passing; to the days that are no more and to the brave, free life of the wilderness that lives only in the memory of those who mourn its loss_ preface the writing of this book has been primarily a labour of love, undertaken in the hope that through the harmonious mingling of indian tradition and descriptions of the region--too little known--where the lessening tribes still dwell, there may be a fuller understanding both of the indians and of the poetical west. a wealth of folk-lore will pass with the passing of the flathead reservation, therefore it is well to stop and listen before the light is quite vanished from the hill-tops, while still the streams sing the songs of old and the trees murmur regretfully of things lost forever and a time that will come no more. we of the workaday world are too prone to believe that our own country is lacking in myth and tradition, in hero-tale and romance; yet here in our midst is a legended region where every landmark is a symbol in the great, natural record book of a folk whose day is done and whose song is but an echo. it would not be fitting to close these few introductory words without grateful acknowledgment to those who have aided me toward the accomplishment of my purpose. indeed, every page brings a pleasant recollection of a friendly spirit and a helping hand. mr. duncan mcdonald, son of angus, and mr. henri matt, my indian friends, have told me by word of mouth, many of the myths and chronicles set forth in the following chapters. mr. edward morgan, the faithful and just agent at the flathead reservation, has given me priceless information which i could never have obtained save through his kindly interest. he secured for me the legend of the flint, the last tale told by charlot and rendered into english by michel rivais, the blind interpreter who has served in that capacity for thirty years. chief charlot died after this book was finished and he lies in the land of his exile, out of the home of his fathers where he had hoped to rest. from mr. morgan also i received the account of charlot's meeting with joseph at the lolo pass, the facts of which were given him by the little white boy since grown to manhood, mr. david whaley, who rode with charlot and his band to the hostile camp. the late charles aubrey, pioneer and plainsman, furnished me valuable data concerning the buffalo. madame leonie de mers and her hospitable relatives, the de mers of arlee, were instrumental in winning for me the confidence of the selish people. mrs. l. mabel hight, the artist, who has caught the spirit of the mountains with her brush, has added to this book by making the peaks live again in their colours. in conclusion i would express my everlasting gratitude to mr. thomas h. scott, of lake mcdonald, soldier, mountain-lover and woodsman, who, with unfailing courage and patience, has guided me safely over many and difficult trails. for the benefit of students i must add that the authorities i have followed in my historical references are: long's (james') "_expedition to the rocky mountains, - _," maximilian's "_travels in north america_," father de smet's "_oregon missions_," major ronan's "_history of the flathead indians_," bradbury's "_travels_," father l. b. palladino's "_indian and white in the northwest_," and the _reports_ of the bureau of ethnology. helen fitzgerald sanders. _butte, montana, april , ._ contents i. the gentle selish ii. enchanted waters iii. lake angus mcdonald iv. some indian missions of the northwest v. the people of the leaves vi. the passing buffalo vii. lake mcdonald and its trails viii. above the clouds ix. the little st. mary's x. the track of the avalanche xi. indian summer list of illustrations lake angus mcdonald _frontispiece_ facing page joe la mousse abraham isaac and michel kaiser lake mcdonald from mcdonald creek francois glacier camp gem lake on the trail to mt. lincoln _the gentle selish_ trails through western woods chapter i the gentle selish i when lewis and clark took their way through the western wilderness in , they came upon a fair valley, watered by pleasant streams, bounded by snowy mountain crests, and starred, in the springtime, by a strangely beautiful flower with silvery-rose fringed petals called the bitter root, whence the valley took its name. in the mild enclosure of this land lived a gentle folk differing as much from the hostile people around them as the place of their nativity differed from the stern, mountainous country of long winters and lofty altitudes surrounding it. these early adventurers, confusing this tribe with the nations dwelling about the mouth of the columbia river, spoke of them as the flatheads. it is one of those curious historical anomalies that the chinooks who flattened the heads of their children, should never have been designated as flatheads, while the selish, among whom the practice was unknown, have borne the undeserved title until their own proper and euphonious name is unused and all but forgotten. the selish proper, living in the bitter root valley, were one branch of a group composed of several nations collectively known as the selish family. these kindred tribes were the selish, or flatheads, the pend d'oreilles, the coeur d'alenes, the colvilles, the spokanes and the pisquouse. the nez percés of the clearwater were also counted as tribal kin through inter-marriage. lewis and clark were received with great kindness and much wonder by the selish. there was current among them a story of a hunting party that came back after a long absence east of the rocky mountains, bearing strange tidings of a pale-faced race whom they had met,--probably the adventurous sieur de la vérendrye and his cavaliers who set out from montreal to find a highway to the pacific sea. but it was only a memory with a few, a curious legend to the many, and these men of white skin and blue eyes came to them as a revelation. the traders who followed in the footsteps of the first trail-blazers found the natives at their pursuits of hunting, roving over the bitter root valley and into the contested region east of the main range of the rocky mountains, where both they, and their enemies, the blackfeet, claimed hereditary right to hunt the buffalo. they were at all times friendly to the white men who came among them, and these visitors described them as simple, straight-forward people, the women distinguished for their virtue, and the men for their bravery in the battle and the chase. they were cleanly in their habits and honorable in their dealings with each other. if a man lost his horse, his bow or other valuable, the one who found it delivered it to the chief, or great father, and he caused it to be hung in a place where it might be seen by all. then when the owner came seeking his goods, the chief restored it to him. they were also charitable. if a man were hungry no one said him nay and he was welcome even at the board of the head men to share the best of their fare. this spirit of kindliness they extended to all save their foes and the prisoners taken in war whom they tortured after the manner of more hostile tribes. in appearance they were "comparatively very fair and their complexions a shade lighter than the palest new copper after being freshly rubbed." they were well formed, lithe and tall, a characteristic that still prevails with the pure bloods, as does something of the detail of their ancient dress. they preserve the custom of handing down by word of mouth, from generation to generation, their myths, traditions and history. some of these chronicles celebrate events which are estimated to have happened two hundred years or more ago. of the origin of the selish nothing is known save the legend of their coming out of the mountains; and perhaps we are none the poorer, for no bald historical record of dates and migrations could be as suggestively charming as this story of the people, themselves, colored by their own fancy and reflecting their inner life. indeed, a nation's history and tradition bear much the same relation to each other as the conventional public existence of a man compared with that intangible part of him which we call imagination, but which is in reality the sum-total of his mental inheritance: the hidden treasure of his spiritual wealth. let us look then, through the medium of the indian's poetic imagery, into a past rose-hued with the sunrise of the new day. coyote, the hero of this legend, figures in many of the myths of the selish; but they do not profess to know if he were a great brave bearing that name or if he were the animal itself, living in the legendary age when beasts and birds spoke the tongue of man. likely he was a dual personality such as the white buffalo of numerous fables, who was at will a beautiful maiden or one among the vast herds of the plains. possibly there was, indeed, such a mighty warrior in ages gone by about whose glorified memory has gathered the half-chimerical hero-tales which are the first step toward the ancestor-worship of primitive peoples. in all of the myths given here in which his name is mentioned, except that one of coyote and the flint, we shall consider him as an ideal embodying the indians' highest conception of valor and achievement. long, long ago the jocko was inhabited by a man-eating monster who lured the tribes from the hills into his domain and then sucked their blood. coyote determined to deliver the people, so he challenged the monster to a mortal combat. the monster accepted the challenge, and coyote went into the mountains and got the poison spider from the rocks and bade him sting his enemy, but even the venom of the spider could not penetrate the monster's hide. coyote took counsel of the fox, his friend, and prepared himself for the fray. he got a stout leather thong and bound it around his body, then tied it fast to a huge pine tree. the monster appeared with dripping fangs and gaping jaws, approached coyote, who retreated farther and farther away, until the thong stretched taut and the pine curved like a bow. suddenly, the tree, strained to its utmost limit, sprang back, felling the monster with a mortal stroke. coyote was triumphant and the woodpecker of the forest cut the pine and sharpened its trunk to a point which coyote drove through the dead monster's breast, impaling it to the earth. thus, the jocko was rid of the man-eater, and the selish, fearing him no more, came down from the hills into the valley where they lived in plenty and content. the following story of coyote and the flint is of exceptional interest because it is from the lips of the dying charlot--charlot the unbending, the silent chieftain. no word of english ever profaned his tongue, so this myth, told in the impressive selish language, was translated word for word by michel rivais, the blind interpreter at the flathead agency, who has served faithfully and well for a period of thirty years. "in the old times the animals had tribes just like the indians. the coyote had his tipi. he was hungry and had nothing to eat. he had bark to shoot his arrow with and the arrow did not go through the deer. he was that way a long time when he heard there was flint coming on the road that gave a piece of flint to the fox and he could shoot a deer and kill it, but the coyote did not know that and used the bark. they did not give the coyote anything. they only gave some to the fox. next day the fox put a piece of meat on the end of a stick and took it to the fire. the fox had the piece of meat cooking there and the coyote was looking at the meat and when it was cooked the coyote jumped and got the piece of meat and took a bite and in it was the flint, and he bit the flint and asked why they did not tell him how to kill a deer with flint. "'why didn't you tell me?' the coyote asked his friend, the fox. 'when did the flint go by here?' "the fox said three days it went by here. "the coyote took his blanket and his things and started after the flint and kept on his track all day and evening and said, 'here is where the flint camped,' and he stayed there all night himself, and next day he travelled to where the flint camped, and he said, 'here is where the flint camped last night,' and he stayed there, and the next day he went farther and found where the flint camped and he said, 'the flint started from here this morning.' he followed the track next morning and went not very far, and he saw the flint going on the road, and he went 'way out that way and went ahead of the flint and stayed there for the flint to come. when the flint met him there the coyote told him: "'come here. now, i want to have a fight with you to-day.' "and the flint said: "'come on. we will fight.' "the flint went to him and the coyote took the thing he had in his hand and struck him three or four times and the flint broke all to pieces and the coyote had his blanket there and put the pieces in the blanket and after they were through fighting and he had the pieces of flint in his blanket he packed the flint on his back and went to all the tribes and gave them some flint and said: "'here is some flint for you to kill deer and things with.' "and he went to another tribe and did the same thing and to other tribes and did the same until he came to flint creek and then from that time they used the flint to put in their arrows and kill deer and elk. "that is the story of the flint." * * * * * coyote was the chosen one to whom the great spirit revealed the disaster which reduced the selish from goodly multitudes of warriors to a handful of wretched, plague-stricken invalids. old women are still fond of relating the story which they received from their mothers and their mothers' mothers even to the third and fourth generation. coyote laid down to rest and dreamed that the voice of the great spirit sounded in his ears, saying that unless the daughter of the chief became his bride a scourge would fall upon the people. when morning broke he sought out the chief and told him of the words of the voice, but the chief, who was a haughty man, would not heed coyote and coldly denied him the hand of his daughter in marriage. coyote returned to his lodge and soon there resounded through the forests the piercing cry of one in distress. coyote rushed forth and beheld a man covered with sores across the river. this man related to coyote how he was the last survivor of a war party that had come upon a village once occupied by the enemy whom they sought, but as they approached they saw no smoke arising from the tipis and no sign of life. they came forward very cautiously, but all was silent and deserted. from lodge to lodge they passed, and finally they came upon an old woman, pitted and scabbed, lying alone and dying. with her last breath she told them of a scourge which had fallen upon the village, consuming brave and child alike, until she, of all the lodges, was left to mourn the rest. then one by one the war party which had ridden so gallantly to conquest and glory, felt an awful heat as of fire run through their veins. burning and distraught they leaped into the cold waters of a river and died. such was the story of the man whom coyote met in the woods. he alone remained, disfigured, diseased, doomed. so coyote brought him into the village and quenched his thirst that he might pass more easily to the happy hunting ground. but as the great spirit had revealed to coyote while he slept, the scourge fell upon the people and laid them low, scarcely enough grief-stricken survivors remaining to weep for their lost dead. * * * * * besides this legendary narrative of the visitation of smallpox there are other authenticated instances of the plague wreaking its vengeance upon the selish and depleting their villages to desolation. in this wise the tribe was thinned again and again and as early as , mr. cox of the northwest fur company, told in his "adventures" that once the selish were more powerful by far in number than in the day of his coming amongst them. there was also another cause for the nation's decline quite as destructive as the plague;--the unequal hostility continuing generation after generation, without capitulation or truce, with the blackfeet. the country of the selish abounded in game but it was a part of the tribal code of honour to hunt the buffalo in the fields where their ancestors had hunted. all of the deadly animosity between the two peoples, all of the bloodshed of their cruel wars, was for no other purpose than to maintain the right to seek the beloved herds in the favoured fields which they believed their forefathers had won. the jealousy with which this privilege of the chase was guarded and preserved even to the death explains many national peculiarities, forms, indeed, the keynote to their life of freedom on the plains. it is possible that the selish would have been annihilated had not the establishment of new trading-posts enabled them to get fire-arms which the blackfeet had long possessed. this means of defence gave them fresh strength and thereafter the odds against them were not as great. the annals of the tribe, so full of tragedy and joy, of fact and fancy, of folk-lore and wood-lore, contain many stories of war glory reminiscent of the days of struggle. even now there stands, near ravalli in the jocko, a rock resembling a man, called by the indians the stone sentinel, which touchingly attests the fidelity and bravery of a nameless hero. the story is that one of the runners who had gone in advance of a war-party after the indian custom, was surprised while keeping watch and killed by the blackfeet. the body remained erect and was turned to stone, a monument of devotion to duty so strong that not even death could break his everlasting vigil. notwithstanding their love of glory on the war-path and hunting-field, they were a peaceable people. the most beautiful of their traditions are based upon religious themes out of which grew a poetical symbolism, half devotional, half fantastic. and even to-day, in spite of their profession of christianity, there lives in the heart of the indian the old paganism, not unlike that of the greeks, which spiritualizes every object of the woods and waters. they thought that in the beginning the good spirit came up out of the east and the evil spirit out of the west, and then began the struggle, typified by light and darkness, which has gone on ever since. from this central idea they have drawn the rainbow spirit-fancy which arches their dream-sky from horizon to horizon. they consider some trees and rocks sacred; again they hold a lake or stream in superstitious dread and shun it as a habitation of the evil one. thus, a cave in the neighbouring hills where rattlesnakes sleep in winter, they avoided in the past, not on account of the common snakes, but because within the damp, dark recesses of that subterranean den, the king of snakes, a huge, horned reptile dwelt, appearing occasionally in all his venomous, scaled beauty, striking terror wherever he was seen. a clear spring bubbled near the cave but not even the cold purity of the water could tempt the indians to that accursed vicinity until by some revelation they learned that the king snake had migrated to other fastnesses. he is still seen, so they say, gliding stealthily amongst deserted wastes, his crest reared evily, and death in his poison tail. in contrast to this cave of darkness is the spiritual legend of the sacred pine. upon those same gentle hills of the jocko it grows, lifting its lessening cone of green toward heaven. it has been there past the memory of the great-grand-fathers of the present generation and from time immemorial it has been held sacred by the selish tribe. high upon its venerable branches hangs the horn of a bighorn sheep, fixed there so firmly by an unknown hand, before even the tradition of the selish had shaped its ghostly form out of the mists of the past, that the blizzard has not been strong enough to wrench it from its place, nor the frost to gnaw it away. no one knows whence the ram's horn came nor what it signifies, but the tree is considered holy and the indians believe that it possesses supernatural powers. hence, offerings are made to it of moccasins, beads, weasel skins, and such little treasures of wearing apparel or handiwork as they most esteem, and at certain seasons, beneath the cool, sweet shadow of its generous boughs the devoted worshippers, going back through the little superficialities of recent civilization to the magnetic pole of their own true blood and beliefs, assemble to dance with religious fervor around its base upon the green. the missionary fathers discourage such idolatrous practices; but the poor children of the woods play truant, nevertheless, and wander back through the cycle of the centuries to do honour to the old, sweet object of their devotion in the primitive, pagan way. and surely the great spirit who watches over white and red man impartially, can scarcely be jealous of this tribute of love to a tree,--the instinctive, race-old festival of a woodland tribe. there is another pine near ravalli revered because it recalls the days of the chase. it stands upon the face of a mountain somewhat apart from its brethren of the forest, and there the bighorn sheep used to take refuge when pursued. if driven to bay, the leader, followed by his band, leaped to death from this eminence. it is known as the pine of the bighorn sheep. thus, it will be seen there lives among the selish a symbolism, making objects which they love chapters in the great unwritten book, wherein is celebrated the heroic past. he who has the key to that volume of tribe-lore, may learn lessons of valour and achievement, of patience and sacrifice. and colouring the whole story, making beautiful its least phase, is the sentiment of the people, even as the haze is the poetry of the hills. ii as heroic or disastrous events are celebrated in verbal chronicles it follows that the home of the selish is storied ground. before the pressure of civilization, encroaching in ever-narrowing circles upon the hunting-ground of the indians, cramping and crowding them within a smaller space, driving them inch by inch to the confinement which is their death, the selish wandered at will over a stretch of country beautiful alike in the reality of its landscape and in the richness of myth and legend which hang over every peak and transfigure every lake and stream. to know this country and the people it has sheltered through past centuries one must first glean something of that ephemeral story-charm which records in crag, in mist, in singing stream and spreading tree the dreams made almost real by the thousands of souls who have treasured them, and given them, lip to lip, from old to young, since the forests were first green upon the hills. the land of the selish extended eastward to that portion of the main range of the rocky mountains known to them as _sin-yal-min_, or the "mountains of the surrounded," from the fact that once a hunting party surrounded and killed a herd of elk by a stream upon those heights; another time a war-party surrounded and slew a company of blackfeet within the woods upon the mountain side. though this range marked the eastern boundary of their territory, they hunted buffalo, as we have seen, still east of its mighty peaks,--a region made bloody by battles between the selish and the blackfeet tribes. westward, they wandered over the fertile valley of sin-yal-min, where they, in common with the pend d'oreilles, kootanais and nez percés enjoyed its fruits and fields of grain. this valley is bounded to the north by the great flathead lake, a body of water vast in its sweep, winding through narrow channels among wooded shores ever unfolding new and unexposed vistas as one traverses it. on a calm summer day, when the sun's rays are softened by gossamer veils of haze, the water, the mountain-peaks and sky are faintly traced in shades of grey and faded rose as in mother-of-pearl. and on such days as this, at rare intervals, a strange phenomenon occurs,--_the reflection of a reflection_. looking over the rail of a steamer within the semi-circular curve of the swell at its stern, one may see, first the reflection of the shore line, the mountains and trees appearing upside down, then a second shore line perfectly wrought in the mirroring waters right side up, pine-crest touching pine-crest, peak poised against peak. this lake was the selish's conception of the greatest of waters, for their wandering never took them to the atlantic or pacific seas, and in such small craft as they used to travel over the forty miles of water among serpentining shores, the distance must have seemed immense. many islands rise from the lake, the largest of them, wild horse island, is timbered and mountainous, and so big as to appear like an arm of the main land. this wild horse island, where in olden days bands of wild horses were found, possesses a peculiar interest. upon its steep cliffs are hieroglyphics traced in pigments unknown to-day, telling the forgotten story of a lost race. the same strange figures appear upon the sheer escarpments of the mainland shore. these rock-walls are moss-grown and colored by the lichen, chrome yellow, burnt orange, russet-brown and varying shades of bronze-green like autumn leaves, and upon them broods a shadow as darkly impenetrable as the mystery which they hold. still, it is easy to distinguish upon the heroic tablets of stone, crude figures of horses and some incomprehensible marks. these writings have been variously interpreted or guessed at. some declare them to be ancient war signals of the selish, others suggest that they were records of hunting parties left behind for the guidance and information of the tribe; but they, themselves, deny all knowledge of them, saying that to them as to us, the pictured rocks are a wonder and a riddle, the silent evidence of foot-falls so remote that not even an echo has come down to us through the centuries. such are the valley of sin-yal-min and the lake of the flathead where the selish hunted. but their real home, the seat of their fathers, was the bitter root valley, where one branch of the tribe, headed by charlot, the son of victor, lived until the recent exodus. therefore, the bitter root valley was particularly dear to the hearts of these indians. it was there the bond between the kindred tribes, the nez percés and the selish, was broken; there the pioneer fathers came to build the first mission and plant the first cross among these docile children of the wood. it was there they clung together like frightened sheep until they were driven forth to seek new homes in the valley of the jocko, which was to be merely a station in their enforced retreat. eastward and southward from the bitter root, the jocko and the range of sin-yal-min in the contested country, is a cañon called the hell gate, because within its narrow limits, the blackfeet wreaked vengeance upon their less warlike foes. flowing through the cañon is a river, _in-mis-sou-let-ka_, corrupted into missoula, which bears one of the most beautiful of the selish legends. * * * * * coyote was taking his way through a pass in the mountains during the ancient days, when there came to him, out of the closed lip of silence, the echo of a sound. he stopped to listen, in doubt if it were the singing of waters or human voices that he heard, and as he listened the echo grew into a reality and the strains of wondrous, weirdly sweet music greeted his ear. he followed the illusive melody, attracted as by magic, and at last he saw upon the flower-sown green a circle of young women, dancing around and around, hand clasped in hand, forming a chain and singing as they danced. they beckoned to coyote and called unto him, saying: "thou art beautiful, o warrior! and strong as is the sun. come dance with us and we will sing to thee." coyote, like one who walks in his sleep, obeyed them and joined the enchanted circle. then he perceived that as they danced and sang they drew him closer and closer to a great river that lashed itself into a blind, white fury of foam upon the rocks. coyote became afraid like a woman. he noted with dread the water-weed in the maidens' hair and the evil beauty of their eyes. he strove to break away but he was powerless to resist them and he felt himself drawn nearer and nearer the roaring torrent, until at last the waters closed over him in whirlpools and he knew no more. * * * * * the fox, who was wise and crafty, passed along the shore and there he found, among the water-weeds and grasses the lifeless body of coyote which had been cast up by the waters, even as they had engulfed him. the fox was grieved for he loved coyote, so he bent over the corpse and brought it back to life. coyote opened his eyes and saw his friend, but the chill of the water was in his blood and he was numb. then above the roar of the river, echoed the magical measure of a weird-sweet song and through a green glade came the dancers who had lured coyote to his death. he rose at the sound of the bewitching melody and strained forward to listen. "it was they who led me to the river," he cried. "aye, truly. they are the water sirens and thou must destroy them," replied the fox. at those words coyote's heart became inflamed with ire; he grew strong with purpose and crept forward, noiseless as a snake, unobserved by the water-maidens. they were dancing like a flock of white butterflies upon a stretch of grass yellowed and seared by the heat of the sun. swiftly and silently coyote set fire to the grass, imprisoning them in a ring of flame. they saw the wall of fire leap up around them and their singing was changed to cries. they turned hither and thither and sought to fly to the water but the way was barred by the hot red-gold embrace of the fire. when the flames had passed, coyote went to the spot where the sirens had danced, and there upon the blackened ground he found a heap of great, white shells. he took these, the remains of the water-maidens, and cast them into the river, saying as he did so: "i call thee _in-mis-sou-let-ka_ and thou shalt forever bear that name!" thus it was that the river flowing through the hell gate came by the title of in-mis-sou-let-ka, which men render into english by the inadequate words of "_the river of awe_." * * * * * through the length and breadth of the country are story-bearing land-marks. there is a rock in the jocko, small of size but of weight so mighty that no indian, however strong, can move it; there is a mountain which roars and growls like an angry monster; there is a cliff where a brave of the legendary age of heroes battled hand to hand with a grizzly bear, and a thousand other spots, each hallowed by a memory. so, through peak and lowland, rivers and forests one can find the faery-spell of romance, lending the commonest stone individuality and interest. and the most prosaic pilgrim wandering along haunted streams, cooling in the shadow of storied woods and upon the shores of enchanted lakes, must feel the spell of poesy upon him; must look with altered vision upon the whispering trees, listen with quickened hearing to the articulate murmur of the rivers, knowing for a time at least, the subtle fellowship with the woodland which is in the heart of the indian. such is the legended land of the selish, a land fit for gentle, poetic folk to dwell in, a land worthy for brave and devoted men to lay down their lives to save. iii within the bitter root valley dwelt charlot, _slem-hak-kah_, "little claw of a grizzly bear," son of the great chief victor, "the lodge pole," and therefore by hereditary right head chief of the selish tribe. that valley is perhaps the most favoured land of the region. the snow melts earlier within its mountain-bound heart, the blizzard drives less fiercely over its slopes and the spring comes there sooner, sprinkling the grass with the rose stars of the bitter root. under the guidance of the missionary fathers the indians learned to till the soil and the bounty of their toil was sufficient, for the rich earth yielded fine crops of grain and fruit. the indians who sowed and plowed their small garden-spots, and the kindly fathers who watched over their prosperity, little dreamed that in the free gift of the earth and the mild beauty of the land lay the cause which should wreak the red man's ruin. this land was dear to the hearts of the people. victor, their brave guardian, had saved it for them at the treaty of the hell gate when they were called upon to give up part of their territory to the increasing demands of the whites. those of the dominant race kept coming into the bitter root and they were welcomed by the indians. thus, bit by bit the valley was taken up, its fame spread and it became a region so desirable that the government determined to move the selish tribe out of the land of their fathers. charlot was a courageous and honest man, a leader worthy of his trust. it was he who met the nez percés as they descended into the bitter root, headed by chief joseph, hot with the lust for the white man's scalp. there are few more dramatic incidents in western history than charlot's visit to chief joseph on the lolo trail and the ultimatum which he delivered to the leader of the nez percé hosts. he rode forth accompanied by joe la mousse and a small war-party, carrying with him a little white boy. about his arm he had tied a snowy handkerchief in token of the peaceful character of his errand. when the two chiefs, charlot and joseph faced each other, charlot spoke these words, slowly, defiantly as one who has made a great decision: "joseph, i have something to say to you. it will be in a few words. "you know i am not afraid of you. "you know i can whip you. "if you are going through the valley you must not hurt any of the whites. if you do you will have me and my people to fight. "you may camp at my place to-night but to-morrow you must pass on." and it was as charlot decreed. joseph the brave, intractable warrior who did battle with the army of the united states and kept the cleverest of our generals guessing at his strategies, bent to the iron will of charlot. the nez percés passed peacefully through the valley and never a soul was harmed. in the long, cruel struggle that followed, when chief joseph and his braves struck terror to the settlers, leaving death and ruin in their path, charlot remained staunch and true. indeed, the boast of the selish is that they, as a nation, were never guilty of taking a white man's life. meantime, while they lived in peace and plenty, the fates had sealed their doom. there is no use reiterating the long, painful story of the treaty between the selish and the government, ceding to the latter the land where the tribal ancestors lived and died. charlot declared he did not sign away the birth-right of his people and he was an honourable man. he and his friends went farther and said that his mark was forged. on the other hand some of those who were witnesses for the united states maintain that the name charlot was written like that of arlee and others, with a blank space left for the mark, or signature of each chief. they further state that charlot never affixed his mark to the document nor was it forged as he asserted to the end. this is at best mere evasion. one of two things happened: a fraudulent signature was put upon the face of the treaty to deceive the government, or charlot, as head chief, was overridden and ignored. whatever the means employed the outcome was the same. it was an unhappy day for the indians. they had no recourse but to submit, so most of them headed by arlee, the war chief, struck their tipis, abandoned the toil-won fields where they had laboured so long and so patiently, left the shadow of the cross where they were baptized, and went forth into the jocko to begin again the struggle which should never be more than a beginning. [illustration: joe la mousse] but charlot the royal-blooded, son of a long line of fighting chiefs, was not to be moved by the master-hand like a pawn in a game of chess. he haughtily refused to leave the bitter root valley, telling his people that those of them who wished to go should follow arlee, but he with a few of the faithful, would lie down to his repose in the land of his fathers beneath peaks that mingle with the sky. with impassive dignity he and a party of his loyal band went to washington at the bidding of the great father to listen to the justice of the white man's claim. charlot proudly declined to accept pension and authority bought at the price of his exile. he wished only the "poor privilege" of dwelling in the valley where his fathers had dwelt; of resting at last, where they had lain so long. he wanted neither money nor land,--simply permission to live in the home of his childhood, his manhood and old age. he added that he would never be taken alive to the jocko reservation. the powers saw no merit in the sentiment of the old chief. he had dared to oppose their will and they determined to break his spirit. he might remain in the bitter root the all-wise decreed, but in remaining he relinquished every right. more crushing to him than poverty and exile was the final blow to his pride. in a sense he was king of his tribe. the title of great chief descended from father to son, even as the crowns of empires are handed down. the war chiefs, on the other hand, were elected to command the warriors for a year and at the end of their service they became simple braves again. the government, ignoring the canons of the selish, put charlot aside, and arlee, the red night, last of the war chiefs, took precedence over him and became head chief of his nation. charlot was stripped of his title, his honours, his privileges of land grant and pension; in other words, he was reduced from great chief to pauper. thus charlot, who with his braves had defied his kinsfolk, the nez percés, to protect the weak colony of settlers in their bitter root home was driven forth by these same strangers within his gates, and he, the bravest and best of his kind, shorn of the dignities his forebears and he, himself, had won;--robbed, cast out, was held up to contumely as an unruly savage and spurned by the people his mercy had spared. from the bitter root, the poor wanderers took their way into the jocko, a region also fair, where some of their tribe already dwelt, and made for themselves new homes. they accepted the change uncomplainingly and set to work to sow and reap in this adopted land. charlot and his band of nearly two hundred lingered in the bitter root until , when driven by hunger and suffering they followed their tribesmen into the jocko. he had said he would never be _taken alive_ to the new reservation, nor was he. clad in his war dress, mounted on his best horse, surrounded by his young men in full war regalia, he rode into exile, proud, unbending as a triumphant chief entering dominions won by conquest. no expression of pain crossed his bronze-stern face; no hint of humility or subjection softened the majesty of his mien. he and his braves were met by the selish who had gone before, with great ostentation and ceremony. charlot never forgot nor forgave. he had been cast out, betrayed, but not conquered. the selish have learned to love the soft, yellow-green of the jocko hills, the free sweep of its prairies, where sun flowers flow in a sea of gold beneath the rushing tide of the summer wind, and the prettily boisterous little jocko river laughs and plays over its rocky bed between a veritable jungle of trees and vines and flowers. in these woods bordering the stream, the most luscious wild gooseberries, strawberries and bright scarlet brew berries grow--this last, dear to the indian, is picked by the squaws and made into a sparkling draught. there the trees are hung with dense tapestries of blossoming vines, thick moss deadens the footstep and birds call shrilly from the twilight of the trees. but the jocko and sin-yal-min are beautiful and fertile, and wherever there is beauty and fertility there comes the master saying: "_this is mine by right of might! go forth again o indian! there are lean hills and deserts left for thee!_" and the indian, grown used to such things, folds his tipi and takes his way into the charity of the lessening wilderness. not long ago a strange thing came to pass. one evening the sun set in a passion of red and gold. the tide of light pulsed through the skies, the air throbbed and shimmered with it, and every lake and pool reflected its ruddy splendour until they seemed to be filled with blood. the indians gazed at the spectacle in silent awe. groups of them on horseback, dark figures silhouetted against the bright sky, stared curiously at the awful glory of the heavens and earth, whispered in low tones together and were afraid. was the great spirit revealing something to his children? some there were who thought that the crimson banners in the west foretold a disaster and verily it was true. the end was near. the sun was setting forever upon their freedom. once more the children of the old time would be driven to another camping ground where they might halt for a little space and rest their weary heads before they take up the march upon their endless retreat. iv during the summer at the time when the sun reached his greatest strength, according to the ancient custom, the selish gathered together to dance. in this celebration is embodied the spirit of the people, their pride, their hates and loves. but this dance had a peculiar significance. it was, perhaps, the last that the tribe will celebrate. another year the white man will occupy the land, and the free, roving life and its habits will be gone. it was a scene never to be forgotten. overhead a sky deeply azure at its zenith which mellowed toward the west into a tide of ruddy gold flowing between the blue heavens and the green earth; far, far away, dim, amethyst mountains dreaming in the haze; and through that rose-gold flood of light, sharply outlined against the intense blue above and the tender green below, silent figures on horseback, gay with blankets, beads and buckskins, rode out of the filmy distance into the splendour of the setting sun, and noiselessly took their places around the musicians on the grass. there were among them the most distinguished men of the tribe. joe la mousse, once a warrior of fame, grown to an honored old age, watched the younger generation with the simple dignity which becomes one of his years and rank. he possessed the richest war dress of all, strung with elks' teeth and resplendent with the feathers of the war-eagle. it was he, who with charlot, met the nez percés and repudiated their bloody campaign; he, whose valiant ancestor, ignace la mousse, the iroquois, helped to make glorious the name of his adopted people. _françois_ and _kai-kai-she_, the judge, both honoured patriarchs, and chief antoine moise, _callup-squal-she_, "crane with a ring around his neck," who followed charlot to washington on his mission of protest, moved and mingled in the bright patchwork of groups upon the green. there was none more imbued with the spirit of festivity than old françois with white hair falling to his bowed shoulders. these and many more there were whose prime had known happier days. chief moise's wife, a handsome squaw, rode in with her lord, and conspicuous among the women was a slim wisp of a girl with an oval face, buckskin-colored complexion, and great, dusky, twilight eyes. a pale gray-green blanket was wrapped about her head and body, hanging to her moccasined feet. she was the wife of michel kaiser, the young leader of the braves. but towering above the rest of the assembly, regal to the point of austerity, was a man aged but still erect, as though his strength of pride would never let his shoulders stoop beneath the conquering years. he wore his blanket folded closely around him and fanned himself with an eagle's wing, the emblem of the warrior. one eye was hidden beneath a white film which had shut out its sight forever, but the other, coal-black and piercing, met the stranger gaze for gaze, never flinching, never turning aside. it was charlot. though an exile, his head was still unbent, his spirit unbroken. sometimes we see in the aged, the placid melancholy which comes with the foreknowledge of death, so in the serenely sad faces of the aged indians, we recognize that greater melancholy which is born of the foreshadowing of racial death. they cherish, too, a more personal grief in that they shall live to see the passing of the old life. patiently they submitted to the expulsion from the bitter root, but now in the darkness of gathering years once more they must strike their tipis to make room for the invading hosts. the setting sun streamed through the leaves and touched the venerable faces with false youth. wagon and pony discharged their human loads who sat passively, listening to the admonition of the tom-tom and the chant: "_come, o! ye people! come and dance!_" after this preliminary measure had lasted hours, not an indian professed to know whether the people would be moved to dance or not. a race characteristic is that impulse must quicken them to action. it was strange how the tidings had spread. the tipis and lodges are scattered over many miles, but the indians kept coming as though called up by magic from their hiding places in the hills. beneath a clump of cottonwood trees around the tom-tom, a drum made of deer hide stretched over a hollowed section of green tree, sat the four musicians beating the time of the chant with sticks bound in strips of cloth. of these players one was blind, another aged, and the remaining two, in holiday attire, with painted lips and cheeks, were braves. one of these, seated a trifle higher than his companions, leaned indolently over the tom-tom plying his sticks with careless grace. he possessed a peculiar magnetism which marked him a leader. occasionally his whole body thrilled with sudden animation, his voice rose into a strident cry, then he relapsed into the languid posture and the bee-like drone. of all that gathering he was the one perfect, full-blood specimen of a brave in the height of his prime. the dandy, victor vanderberg, was handsomer perhaps, and little jerome had the beauty of a head of raphael, but this michel kaiser was a type apart. his face and slim, nimble hands were the colour of bronze. his nose curved sharply as a hawk's beak, his mouth was compressed in a hard, cold line over his white teeth, his cheek bones were high and prominent, his brows straight, sable strokes above small, bright-black eyes that gleamed keen as arrow darts. his hair was made into two thick braids wrapped around with brown fur, his arms were decorated with bracelets and from his neck hung string upon string of beads falling to his waist. it was he who with suppressed energy flung back his head as he gave the shrill cry and quickened the beat of the tom-tom until louder and louder, faster and faster swelled the chant: "_come, o! ye people! come and dance!_" then out into the open on the green stepped a girl-child scarcely three years of age, who threw herself into rhythmic motion, swaying her small body to the time of the music and bearing in her quavering treble the burden of the chant. the impressive faces of the spectators melted into smiles. she was the pet of the tribe, the orphan granddaughter of joe la mousse and his venerable wife. loving hands had made for her a war dress which she wore with the grave complaisance of one favoured above her peers. she scorned the sedate dances of the squaws and chose the quicker action of the war dance, and she would not yield her possession of the field without a struggle which showed that the spirit of her fighting fathers still lived in her. suddenly a brave painted grotesquely, dressed in splendid colours with a curious contrivance fastened about his waist and standing out behind like a tail, bounded into the ring, his hurrying feet beating to the tintinnabulation of sleigh bells attached to his legs. michel kaiser and the young man who sat beside him at the tom-tom gave up their places to others, and after disappearing for a moment came forth freed from encumbering blankets, transformed with paint and ornament. a fourth dancer joined them and the awe-begetting war dance began. the movement was one of restrained force. with bent heads and bodies inclined forward, one arm hanging limp and the other resting easily at the back, they tripped along until a war-whoop like an electric shock, sent them springing into the air with faces turned upward and clenched fists uplifted toward the sky. it was now that michel stood revealed in all his physical beauty. in colour and form he was like a perfectly wrought bronze statue. he was tall and slender. his arms and legs, metal-hard, were fleet and strong and his every motion expressed agility and grace. he was clad in the full war-dress of the selish, somewhat the same as that which his ancestors had worn before the coming of the white man. upon his head was a bonnet of skunk tails that quivered with the slightest motion of his sinewy body. he wore, besides, a shirt, long, fringed buckskin leggins and beaded moccasins. he was decorated with broad anklets and little bells that tinkled as he moved. of the four dancers michel sprang highest, swung in most perfect rhythm, spent in that wild carnival most energy and force. supple and lean as a panther he curvetted and darted; light as the wind his moccasined feet skimmed over the green, scarcely seeming to crush a spear of grass. as he went through that terrible pantomime practiced by his fathers before they set out to kill or die, the fire flashing in his lynx-eyes, his slim arm poised over his head, his whole willow-lithe body swaying to the impulse of the war-lust, it was easy to fancy how that play might become a reality and he who danced to perpetuate an ancient form might turn relentless demon if the intoxication of the war-path once kindled in his veins. [illustration: abraham isaac and michel kaiser] this war dance explained many things. it was a portrayal of the glorious deeds of the warriors, a recitation of victorious achievement, a picture of battle, of striking the body of the fallen enemy--one of the great tests of valor. the act of striking was considered a far more gallant feat than the taking of a scalp. after a foe was shot and had fallen, a brave seeking distinction, dashed forth from his own band into the open field and under the deadly rain of the enemy's arrows, struck with his hand the body of the dead or wounded warrior. in doing this he not only courted the desperate danger of that present moment, but brought upon his head the relentless vengeance of the family, the followers and the tribe of the fallen foe,--vengeance of a kind that can wait for years without growing cold. by such inspiring examples the young men were stirred to emulation. the dance showed, too, how in the past the storm-clouds of war gathered slowly until, with lightning flash and thunder-blast, the warriors lashed themselves to the white-heat of frenzy at which they mocked death. the whole thing seemed to be a marshalling of the passions, a blood-fire as irresistible and sweeping as those floods of flame which lay the forests low. the warriors ceased their mad career. the sweat streamed from their brows and down their cheeks as they sat beneath the shade trees in repose. still the tom-tom beat and the chant continued: "_come, o! ye people! come and dance!_" they needed no urging now. what did they care for vespers and sermons when the ghostly voices of warrior-ancestors, of forest dwellers and huntsmen came echoing from the lips of the past? their spirit was aroused and the festival would last until the passion was quenched and their veins were cooled. the next dance was started by a squaw. it was called the "choosing dance," from the fact that either a man or a woman chose a partner for the figure. the ceremony of invitation was simple. the one who desired to invite another, grasped the individual's arm and said briefly: "dance!" the couples formed two circles around the tom-tom, one within the other, then slowly the two rings moved 'round and 'round, with a kind of short, springing step, droning the never-varying chant. at the end of the dance the one who had chosen his partner presented him with a gift. in some cases a horse or a cow was bestowed and not infrequently blankets and the most cherished bead-work belts and hat-bands. custom makes the acceptance of these favours compulsory. even the alien visitors were asked to take part and the indians laughed like pleased children to welcome them to the dance. one very old squaw, mrs. "nine pipes," took her blanket from her body and her 'kerchief from her head to give to her white partner, and a brave, having chosen a pale-faced lady for the figure, and being depleted in fortune by his generosity at a former festival, borrowed fifty cents from a richer companion to bestow upon her. it was all done in the best of faith and friendliness, with child-like good will and pleasure in the doing. when the next number was called, those who had been honoured with invitations and gifts returned the compliment. after this was done, the master of the dance, michel kaiser, stepped into the center of the circle, saying in the deep gutturals of the selish tongue, with all the pomp of one who makes a proclamation, something which may be broadly rendered into these english words: "this brave, jerome, chose for his partner, mary, and gave to her a belt of beads, and mary chose for her partner, jerome, and gave to him a silken scarf." around the circumference of the great ring he moved, crying aloud the names of the braves and maids who had joined together in the dance, and holding up to view the presents they had exchanged. the next in order was a dance of the chase by the four young men who had performed the war dance. in this the hunter and the beast he pursued were impersonated and the pantomime carried out every detail of the fleeing prey and the crafty huntsmen who relentlessly drove him to earth. the fourth measure was the scalp dance given by the squaws, a rite anciently practiced by the female members of families whose lords had returned victorious from battle, bearing as trophies the scalps of enemies they had slain. it was considered an indignity and a matter of just reproach to her husband or brother, if a squaw were unable to take part in this dance. the scalps captured in war were first displayed outside the lodges of the warriors whose spoil they were, and after a time, when they began to mortify or "break down," as the indians say, the triumphant squaws gathered them together, threw them into the dust and stamped on them, heaping upon them every insult and in the weird ceremony of that ghoulish dance, consigning them to eternal darkness, for no brave without his scalp could enter the happy hunting ground. the chant changed in this figure. the voices of the women rose in a piercing falsetto, broken by a rapid utterance of the single syllable "la, la" repeated an incredible length of time. the effect was singularly savage and strange, emphasizing the barbarous joy of the vengeful women. as the war dance was the call to battle, this was the aftermath. in pleasing contrast to this cruel rite was the marriage dance, celebrated by both belles and braves. the young squaws, in their gayest attire, ornamented with the best samples of their bead work and painted bright vermillion about the lips and cheeks, formed a chain around the tom-tom, singing shrilly. then a brave with a party of his friends stepped within the circle, bearing in his hand a stick, generally a small branch of pine or other native tree. he approached the object of his love and laid the branch on her shoulder. if she rejected his suit she pushed the branch aside and he, with his followers, retired in humiliation and chagrin. it often happened that more than one youth desired the hand of the same maiden, and the place of the rejected lover was taken immediately by a rival who made his prayer. if the maid looked with favor upon him she inclined her head, laying her cheek upon the branch. this was at once the betrothal and the marriage. at the close of the festivities the lover bore her to his lodge and they were considered man and wife. * * * * * the sun set mellow rose behind the hills which swam in seas of deepening blue. twilight unfolded shadows that climbed from the valleys to the peaks and touched them with deadening gray chill, until the warm glow died in the bosom of the night. still the tom-tom beat, the chant rose and fell, the dancers wheeled on madly, singing as they danced. the darkness thickened. the stars wrote midnight in the sky. papooses had fallen asleep and women sat mute and tired with watching. by the flare of a camp fire, running in uneven lights over the hurrying figures, one might see four braves leaping and swaying in the war dance. the night wore on. a heavy silence was upon the hills which echoed back the war cry, the tom-tom's throb and the chant. one, then another, then a third dropped out. still the quivering, sweat-burnished bronze body of michel writhed and twisted, bent and sprang. the lines of his face had hardened, the vermillion ran down his cheeks in rivulets, as of blood, and the corners of his mouth were drawn like the curves of a bow. the camp fire glowed low. the gray of the dawn came up out of the east with a little shuddering wind and the faint stars burned out. the tom-tom pulsed slower, the chant was broken. suddenly a wild cry thrilled through the pallid morn. the figure of michel darted upward like a rocket in a final brilliant gush of life, then fell senseless upon the ground. the embers grayed to ashes. the last spark was dead. the dance was done. the mists of morning rolled up from the valleys and unfurled their pale shrouds along the peaks, and the indians, mere shadow-shapes, like phantoms in a dream, stole silently away and vanished with the night. _enchanted waters_ chapter ii enchanted waters i there is a lake in the cloistered fastnesses of sin-yal-min, named by the jesuit priests st. mary's, but called by the indians the waters of the forgiven. it is a small body of water overshadowed by abrupt mountains, fed by a beautiful fall and for some reason, impossible to explain, it is haunted by an atmosphere at once ghostly and sad. so potent is this intangible dread, this fear of something unseen, this melancholy begotten of a cause unknown, that every visitor is conscious of it. most of all, the indians, impressionable and fanciful as children, feel the weird spell and cherish a legend of it as nebulous as the mists that flutter in pale wraith-shapes across its enchanted depths. the story goes that once, long ago, someone was killed upon the lake and the troubled spirit returns to haunt the scene of its mortal passing, but the murderer, smitten with remorse and repenting of his crime was finally forgiven by the great spirit, and the lake became known as the waters of the forgiven. the shadow of that crime has never lifted and it broods forever over the lake's dark face and upon the mountains that hold it in their cup of stone. there the echo is multiplied. if one calls aloud, a chorus of fantastic, mocking voices takes up the sound and it goes crying through the solitude like lost souls in purgatory. the waters of the forgiven exhale their eternal sigh, their pensive gloom, even when the sun rides high in the blue, but to feel the fullness of its spectral melancholy, one must seek it out in the secrecy of night. then, as the mellow moon rises over the mountain tops laying the pale fingers of its rays suggestively on rock and tree, touching them with magical illusion and transforming them to goblin shapes, one palpitates with strange fear, is impressed with impending disaster. as the moonlight flows in misty streams, sealing ravine and lake-deep in shadow the more intense for the contrast of white, discriminating light that runs quicksilver-like upon the ripples of the water and the quivering needles of the pine, the silence is broken by dismal howls. it is the lean, gray timber wolves. their mournful cry is flung back again by the ghostly pack that no eye sees and no foot can track. mountain lions yell shrilly and are answered by distant ones of their kind and inevitably that other lesser cry comes back again and again as though the phantom chorus could never forget nor leave off the burden of that lament. out of the pregnant darkness into the spectral moonlight shadowy creatures come to the shore to drink. the deer, the bear, sometimes the mountain lion and the elk stalk forth and quench their thirst. these things are strange enough, savage enough to inspire fear, but it is not they, nor the grisly mountains that create the terror which is a phantasm, the dread which is not of flesh nor earth. no indian, however brave, pitches his tipi by this lake nor crosses its waters, for among the tangle of weeds in its black, mysterious bosom, water sirens are believed to dwell. ever watchful of human prey they gaze upward from their mossy couches and if a boatman venture out in his frail canoe, they rise, entwining their strangling, white arms about him, pressing him with kisses poisonous as the serpent's sting, breathing upon him their blighting, deadly-sweet breath that dulls his senses into the oblivion of eternal sleep. ii the jocko or spotted lakes are enchanted waters also. they lie high up in the crown of the continent--the main range of the rocky mountains. to reach them the traveller needs patience and strength of body and soul, for the trail is long and tortuous, winding along the rim of sickening-steep ravines, across treacherous swamps, amid mighty forests to great altitudes. there are three lakes in this group, one above the other, the last being sometimes called the clearwater lake because it is within the borders of that terrible wilderness whose savage fastnesses have claimed their prey of lost wanderers. the first lake is inexpressibly ghostly. the flanks of the mountains rise sheer and frown down on murky waters, leaving scarcely any shore, and around their margin, gray-white drift-wood lies scattered like unburied bones. it is a spectral spot, unearthly, colourless as a moth, preyed upon by a lamentable sadness which broods unbroken in the solitude. there the fox-fire kindles in the darkness, the owl wheels in his midnight flight and pale shades of mist unwind their shroud-like scarfs. it is a pool of the dead, a region of lost hopes and throttling despair. from this lake the trail bears upward through dense jungles and morasses, venomously beautiful with huge, brilliantly coloured flowers growing to the height of a man. their scarlet and yellow disks exhale an overpowering fragrance, insidious, almost narcotic in its strength. beneath rank stalk and leaf, rearing blossom and entangling vine, creeping things with mortal sting dwell in the dank, sultry-sweet shadow. one is dazzled with the colour and the scent; charmed and repelled; tempted on into treacherous sinkholes by a wild extravagance of beauty too wanton to be good. at length the second lake unfolds itself from the living screen of tree and wooded steep. a point of land, stained blood-red, juts out into the water and over it tumbles and cascades a foam-whitened fall. this stain of crimson is a thick-spun carpet of indian paint brush interwoven with lush grass. the mountains show traces of orange and green, apparently a mineral wash hinting of undiscovered treasure. looking into the depths of the lake one is impressed with its freckled appearance. a blotch of milky white, then one of dull yellow mottles the water and even as one watches, a shadow darkens the surface, concentrating, scattering in kaleidoscopic variety, then disappearing as mysteriously as it came. there is no cloud in the sky, nor overhanging tree, nor passing bird to cause that shade without substance. at first it seems inexplicable and the indians, finding no natural reason for its being, believe it to be the forms of water sirens gliding to and fro. on this account, here as at the waters of the forgiven no indian dares to come alone and even with human company he fears the sirens' spell. for as the victim sleeps they come, drawing closer and breathing his breath until he dies. if one watches patiently he may see that the dark shadows are made by shoals of fish, gathering and dispersing, and in so doing, accentuating and lessening the sable spots. the lake is as uneven in temperature as it is in colour. it has hot pools and icy shallows, so it is probably fed by springs as well as by the torrent which falls from the peaks. a strong, sulphurous odour taints the air; the water is unpleasant to the taste and the sedgy weeds which grow about the shores are stained. and as the waters recede during the summer heat, along the banks, in uneven streaks a mineral deposit traces their retreat. towards the end of july or august a curious thing may be seen in this lake of the jocko. a current eddies around and around in a gigantic whirlpool, transforming it into a mighty funnel with an underground vent. at a considerable distance below a stream bursts forth from the mountain side with terrific energy of pressure and plunges downward in a foaming torrent. it is the jocko river,--the gentle, merry-voiced jocko of the prairie which winds its course among lines of friendly trees and blossoms. who would guess that it drew its nurture from the lake of the jocko, siren-haunted, poison-breathed, which careful indians avoid as a region of the accursed? still it is so and the menace of that mysterious lake becomes the blessing of the plains. * * * * * such are the waters of the forgiven and the jocko, secure in their solitude, guarded more potently by their spell of evil than by wall of stone or armed hosts, holding within their deep, dark bosoms the charm of the water sirens whose sad, sweet song quavers in the music of fall and stream, whose pallid, white faces flash lily-like from the depths, whose entangling tresses spread in flowing masses of sedgy green. and of the strange things which have happened on those shores, of the braves lured to the death-sleep on couches of moss and pillows of lily pad, scarcely an echo shrills down from the white-shrouded peaks to give warning to the adventurers who would seek out the awful beauty of those enchanted waters. _lake angus mcdonald_ chapter iii lake angus mcdonald and the man for whom it was named within the range of sin-yal-min, which rises abruptly from the valley of the flathead to altitudes of perpetual snow, in a ravine sunk deep into the heart of the mountains, is lake angus mcdonald. though but a few miles distant the bells of saint ignatius mission gather the children of the soil to prayer, no hand has marred the untamed beauty of this lake and its surrounding mountain steeps where the eagle builds his nest in security and the mountain goat and bighorn sheep play unmolested and unafraid. the prospect is a magnificent one as the roadway uncoils its irregular, tawny length from rolling hills into the level sea of green where only a year or two ago the buffalo grazed in peace. beyond, the jagged summits of sin-yal-min toss their crests against the sky, their own impalpable blue a shade more intense than the summer heavens, their silvered pinnacles one with the drifting cloud. a delicate, shimmering thread like the gossamer tissue of a spider's web spins its length from the ethereal brow of the mountains to the lifted arms of the foothills below. the yellow road runs through the valley, passes the emerald patch around the mission and thence onward to blue shadows of peaks where gorges flow like purple seas and distant trees are points of azure. the swelling foothills bear one up, the valley melts away far beneath and sweet-breathed woods sigh their balsam on the breeze. the pass becomes more difficult, the growth thickens. among the trees broad-leafed thimble berry, brew berry and goose berry blossom and bear; wild clematis builds pyramids of green and white over the bushes; syringa bursts into pale-starred flower, and a shrub, feathery, delicate, sends forth long, tender stems which break into an intangible mist of bloom. suddenly out of the tangled forests, a sheet of water, smooth and clear, appears, spreading its quicksilver depths among peaks that still bear their burden of the glacial age. and in the polished mirror of those waters is reflected the perfect image of its mountain crown. first, the purplish green of timbered slopes, then the naked, beetling crags and deep crevasse with its heart of ice. a heavy silence broods here, broken only by the wildly lonesome cry of the raven quavering in lessening undulations of tone through the recesses of the crags. two indians near the shore flit away among the leaves, timid as deer in their native haunts. such is lake angus mcdonald, and yonder, presiding over all, shouldering its perpetual burden of ice, is mcdonald's peak. strangely beautiful are these living monuments to the name and fame of a man, and one naturally asks who was this angus mcdonald that his memory should endure in the eternal mountains within the crystal cup of this snow-fed lake? the question is worth the answering. angus mcdonald was a highland scotchman, sent out into the western wilderness by the hudson bay company. there must have lurked in his robust blood the mastering love of freedom and adventure which led the scions of the house of mcdonald to such strange and varied destinies; which made such characters in the scottish hills as rob roy and clothed the kilted clans with a romantic colour totally wanting in their stolid brethren of the lowlands. in any event, it is certain that angus mcdonald, once within the magic of the wild, flung aside the ties that bound him to the outer world and became in dress, in manner of life and in heart, an indian. he took unto himself an indian wife, begot sons who were indians in colour and form and like his adopted people, he hunted upon the heights, moved his tipi from valley to mountain as capricious notion prompted, and finally made for himself and his family a home in the valley of sin-yal-min not far below that lake and peak which do honor to his memory. physically he was a man of towering stature, standing over six feet in his moccasins; his shoulders were broad and he was very erect. his leonine head was clad with a heavy shock of hair, and his beard, during his later years, snow white, hung to his waist. his complexion was ruddy, his eyes, clear, blue and penetrating. a picturesque figure he must have been, clad in full buckskin leggins and shirt with a blanket wrapped around him. he was known among the indians and whites through the length and breadth of the country about, and no more strange or striking character quickened the adventure-bearing epoch which we call the early days. as he was free to the point of lightness in his nature, trampling down and discarding every shackle of conventionality, he was likewise bound but nominally by the christian creed. he believed in reincarnation and his one desire was that in the hereafter, when his soul should be sent to tenant the new body, he might be re-born in the form of a wild, white horse, with proud, arched neck and earth-scorning hoofs, dashing wind-swift over the broad prairies into the sheltering hills. so it seems fitting that mcdonald's peak and lake should remain untamed even as their namesake; that the eddying whirlpool of life should pass them by and that in their embrace the native creatures should live and range as of yore. and may it be that within those shadowy gorges, remote from the sight and hearing of man, a wild, white horse goes bounding through the night? _some indian missions_ chapter iv some indian missions of the northwest more than a century after the spanish francescans planted the cross upon the pacific shores, the french, belgian and italian jesuits or _robes noires_, took their way into the northwestern wilderness in response to a cry from the people who lived within its solitudes. civilization follows the highways of intercourse with the outer world, so the western coast had passed through the struggle of its beginnings and entered into a period of prosperity and peace, while that territory with the rocky mountains as its general center, was still as primeval as when the galleons of juan de fuca sailed into puget sound. the mellowness of old romance, the warmth of latin colour, hang over the missions of california. the pilgrim lingers reverently in their cloistered recesses, breathing the scent of orange blossoms, reposing in the shade of palm and pepper trees. with the song of the sea in his ears and its sapphire glint in his eye he re-lives the olden days, weaves for himself out of imagination's threads, a picture as harmonious in its tones of faded rose and gray as an ancient tapestry. how much the architectural beauty of these missions has brought them within the affectionate regard of the people it is hard to say, but undoubtedly it has had an influence. the graceful lines of arch and pillar, the low, broad sweep of roof and corridor, the delicate, yellowish-white of the adobe outlined against a sky of royal blue, stir the sleeping sense of beauty in our hearts and make us pause to worship at such favoured shrines. it is for precisely the opposite reason that we are drawn to the missions of the northwest. austere, ascetic in form, they make their appeal because of their unadorned simplicity. they were originally the plainest structures of logs, added to as occasion demanded and always constructed of such homely materials as the surrounding country could yield. hands unaccustomed to other labours than telling the rosary or making the sign of the cross, hewed forest trees and wrought in wood the symbol of their teaching. no wonder, then, that the buildings were small and crude, but their lack of grandeur was the best testimony to the sacrifice and noble purpose of which they were the emblems. overlooked, isolated they stand, passed by and all but unknown. yet they are monuments of heroic achievement and devotion; brave men risked their lives willingly to lay these foundation stones of the faith; bitter struggles were fought and won in their consecrated shadows and upon them is the glamour of thrilling episode. during the seventeenth century a little band of french missionaries of the order of st. ignatius journeyed from their native france to canadian territory with the purpose of spreading the word of god amongst the savages of that benighted land. one of them, father ignace jogues, became the apostle of the iroquois and died at their hands, a martyr. strangely enough, his teachings lived after him and were preserved in a measure, at least, by those who had murdered him because of the message he brought. years afterwards, about , a small party of iroquois took their way from the mission of caughnawaga, in the neighbourhood of sault st. louis, on the banks of the saint lawrence river, and proceeded, probably in quest of furs, into the little known and perilous ascents of the rocky mountains. this party was headed by one ignace la mousse, his given name being by a curious coincidence, the same as that of the martyred disciple of the gospel. he was a man of lordly stature and puissance indomitable. upon their wanderings they came to _spetlemen_, "the place of the bitter root," a mild, fair valley where dwelt a folk kindly in their natures, who called themselves the selish. these people welcomed the iroquois, made them at home in their lodges and shared with them the sports of the chase until the visiting indians were visitors no more and claimed no other land than this. from the lips of old ignace, as he was known, the selish heard of a mysterious faith symbolized by a cross, a greater medicine than that of any of the tribes, and of pale-faced, sable-robed priests, who, in the olden time, taught that faith and died happily in the teaching. the selish practiced a simple, spontaneous kind of paganism. they believed in a good and evil spirit who were constantly at war. these two powers were symbolized by light and darkness and their heroic battle was pictured in the alternate triumph of day and night. if buffalo came in plenty, if elk and moose were slain and the season's yield were rich, then, according to their notion, the good spirit was in the ascendency; but if, on the other hand, winter rode down from the mountains while their larder was low, if fish would not bite and game could not be caught, the influence of the evil spirit prevailed. they believed also, in a future existence, happy or miserable according to the merit or demerit of the soul during its mortal life. the worthy shade passed into eternal summer time, to a land watered by fair streams and green with meadows; in these streams were countless fishes and in the meadows bands of wild horses and endless herds of the beloved buffalo. there the spirit, united with its family, would ride through all eternity, hunting amongst the ghostly flocks in the summer sun of happy souls. but those who had violated the tenets of the tribe, who had been liars, cowards or otherwise dishonourable, and those negative offenders who had been lacking in love for their wives, husbands and children, had sealed for themselves a bitter fate. these outcasts went to an arctic region of everlasting snow where false fires were kindled to torment their frozen limbs with the mocking promise of warmth. phantom streams offered their parched lips drink, but as they hastened to the banks to quench their thirst, the elusive waters were ever farther and farther away. so ever and anon, through the years that never seemed to die, the shades were doomed to hurry onward through the night and cold of winter that knows no spring, in misery as dark as the shadow engulfing them. the lands of good and evil were separated by savage woods, inhabited by hungry wolves, lithe wild cats and serpents coiled to strike. the wretched sinner in his prison of ice, might after a period of penance, short or long, according to the measure of his offense, expiate his sins and join his brethren in the happy hunting ground. besides this general belief held in common by the tribe, they cherished countless myths such as those of the creation and many lesser fanciful legends which formed a part of their religion. although these indians were sincere in this simple, half-poetical mythology, they listened very willingly, like eager children, to old ignace, and from him learned to make the sacred sign and repeat the white man's prayer. after knowing something of their mysticism it is not surprising that the greater mysticism of the catholic church should appeal to them; that once having heard the story of a faith much in accord with many of their elementary, pre-conceived ideas, they should pursue it tirelessly until they gained that which they most desired. time upon time at the councils, the chiefs discussed a means of getting a black robe to come to them. at last, in a mighty assembly, old ignace arose and proposed that a delegation be sent to st. louis to pray that an apostle of the church might come to shed the light of the new faith upon the darkness of the western woods. a stir of approval ran through the attentive people, for it was a great and daring thing to think of. but who would go? the journey of about two thousand miles lay over barriers of mountains, rushing torrents, virgin forests where the sun never shone, and worst of all, penetrated the country of their hereditary enemies, the sioux. in spite of these perils, in the breathless quiet of expectation that had hushed the tribe, four braves came forward and volunteered to undertake the quest. the knights of the olden days, who went forth sheathed in armour, in goodly cavalcades, to the land of the saracen in search of the holy grail, have gathered about their memory the white light of heroism, but if their daring and that of these four were weighed impartially, the indians would rise higher in the scale of glory. alone, afoot, armed only with such weapons as their skill could contrive, they started out in the spring of , and in spite of the death that lurked around them, reached their journey's end with the autumn. the tragical aftermath of that heroic adventure followed quickly. the dangers overcome, the goal won, they failed. not one among them could speak a word of french or english. they sought out general clark who had penetrated into their lands, but what brought them from across the rocky mountains, through the teeth of perdition to st. louis, not even he could guess. picture the tragedy of being within reach of the treasure and unable to point it out! through general clark the four emissaries were conducted to the catholic church. monseigneur, the bishop, was absent--he whom they had travelled six moons to see. very soon thereafter, two of the number fell ill as a result of exposure. in their sickness, doomed to die in a strange land far, far from the pleasant glades of their native valley, they made the sign of the cross and other feeble gestures which some priests who visited them interpreted rightly to be an appeal for baptism and the last rites of the church. the priests accordingly gave them the consolation they prayed for and placed in the hands of each a little crucifix. so rigidly did they press these symbols to their breasts, that they retained them even in death. still in their final agonies not one word could they tell of that mission for which they were even then yielding up their lives. they died christened narcisse and paul and were buried in a catholic cemetery in the city of st. louis. the two survivors, nameless shadows, flitted back into the wild and were lost forever in the darkness. no tidings of them ever reached the waiting tribe, so they, too, sacrificed themselves to a fruitless cause. after these things had happened a canadian, familiar with the indians, informed the good fathers who these children of the forest were and of their devotion to a faith, the merest glimmering of which had penetrated to their remote and isolated valley. then a priest of the cathedral offered to go with one companion to these zealous indians when the spring should make possible the desperate trip. meantime, the selish waited long and anxiously for word from their delegation. michel insula, or red feather, "little chief and great warrior," small of stature but mighty of spirit, always distinguished by the red feather he wore, hearing that some missionaries were travelling westward, fought his way through the hostile country and arrived at the green river rendezvous where indians, trappers and some protestant ministers were assembled. insula was dissatisfied with the ministers because they had wives, wore no black gowns such as old ignace described, and carried no crucifix. the symbolism of the catholic church had impressed him deeply and he would have no other faith, so he and his band returned to their people to tell them that the _robes noires_ were not yet come and their brave messengers had perished with their mission unfulfilled. they were resolute men, these indians, and never faltering, they determined to send another party upon the same sacred quest. this time old ignace, he who had first broached the adventure to the council, arose among the chiefs and warriors and offered to go. he took with him his two young sons. the summer was already well spent, but he and the lads started out undaunted, and after a terrible period of ceaseless travelling, smitten with cold and hunger, they reached st. louis, and ignace more favoured than the preceding delegation, made known the wants of his adopted tribe to the bishop, who listened to him kindly and promised to send a priest among his people. ignace and his sons returned safely to the bitter root valley and brought the glad tidings to the selish. but eighteen moons waxed and waned and though the watchful eyes of the indians scanned the east, never a pale-faced father in robes of black came out of the land of the sunrise. the chiefs took counsel again. a third time they determined to make their appeal. once more ignace la mousse led the way and in his charge were three selish and one nez percé brave. they fell in with a little party of white people near fort laramie, and uniting forces for greater safety, took up the march together. they journeyed onward unmolested until they came to ash hollow in the land of the warlike sioux. in that fateful place three hundred of the hostile tribe surrounded them. the sioux, wishing only the scalps of the selish and nez percé, ordered the white men and old ignace who was dressed in the garb of civilization, to stand apart. the whites obeyed, but ignace la mousse, scorning favour or mercy at the enemy's hands, joined his adopted tribal brethren and fought with them until they all lay dead upon the plains. so ended the third expedition. once more news of the bloody death of their heroes reached the selish. a fourth and last party volunteered to undertake that which now seemed a hopeless charge. two iroquois, young ignace la mousse, so called to distinguish him from the elder of the name, whose memory was held honourable by the tribe, and pierre gaucher, "left handed peter," set out, joining a party of the hudson bay fur company's men and making the trip in canoes. they finished the journey in safety and obtained from monseigneur, the bishop, the pledge that in the spring he would send a missionary to the valley of the bitter root. young ignace waited at the mouth of bear river through the winter in order to be ready to guide the priest to the selish with the coming of the spring. pierre gaucher returned hot-footed, in triumph, conveying to the tribe the glad tidings that their prayer had been answered; that the great black robe was sending them a disciple to preach the holy word. at last, after eight years of waiting, the selish were to have granted them their hearts' desire. from out of the east the pale-faced, black robed father would come bearing with him the cross illuminated by the rising sun, casting the benediction of its shadow upon the people and their land. when the selish learned from pierre gaucher that the _robe noire_ was in reality travelling towards their country even then, the great chief assembled his braves and it was decided that the tribe should march forward to meet and welcome their missionary. accordingly they started in good season and on their way met groups of kalispehlms, nez percés and pend d'oreilles, who joined them, swelling their number to about sixteen hundred souls. the ever increasing cavalcade moved on over pass and valley, peak and ford, clad in rich furs, war-eagle feathers and buckskins bright with beads--a gaily coloured column filing through the woods. finally, in the pierre hole valley they came upon him who was henceforth to be their teacher and guide, father de smet, whose memory is held in reverence by the indians of the present generation. there was great rejoicing among the selish, the nez percés, the pend d'oreilles and the kalispehlms. they burst into wild shouts of delight, swarming around the pale priest, shaking his hand and bowing down before him. they conducted him to the lodge of the great chief, called the "big face," whom father de smet has described as one "who had the appearance of a patriarch." the chief made father de smet welcome in these words: "'this day the great spirit has accomplished our wishes and our hearts are swelled with joy. our desire to be instructed was so great that four times had we deputed our people to the great black robe in st. louis to obtain priests. now, father, speak and we will comply with all that you will tell us. show us the way we have to take to go to the home of the great spirit.'" thus spake the big face, chief of all the selish, and there before the assembled peoples of the kindred tribes, he offered to the priest his hereditary honours as ruler. his renunciation was sincere, but father de smet replied that he had come merely to teach, not to govern them. that night in the deepening shadow, the children of the forest gathered together around their new leader and chanted a song of praise. strange music swelling from untutored lips and awakening hearts into the wild silence which had echoed only the howl of native beasts and the war cry of battle and death! yet even in that hymn of thanksgiving there was an undertone of unconscious sadness. it was the beginning of a new epoch. the old, poetical wood-myth and paganism were gone; the free range over mountain and plain in the exhilarating chase would slowly give place to the pursuits of husbandry. and this new, shapeless compound of civilization and religion was bringing with its blessings, a burden of obligation and pain. the indians did not know, the priest himself could not understand, that he was the channel through which these simple, happy folk should embark upon dangerous, devouring seas. * * * * * [illustration: lake mcdonald from mcdonald creek] father de smet was a belgian and he had spent some time with the pottowatamies, in kansas. he understood the indians well and what was most important, he loved them. he remained among the selish long enough to be assured of their docile nature and sincerity of purpose, then returned to st. louis to urge the establishment of a permanent mission and to ask for assistance to carry on his work. monseigneur, the bishop, listened favourably to his appeal and consequently, in the spring of , father de smet, reinforced with two italian priests, three lay brothers and some other man, started for the rocky mountains. the selish had promised to meet the party at a given place at the base of the wind river mountains, on the first day of july. the indians waited until they were driven by hunger to hunt in more likely fields. the fathers, learning of this, sent a messenger to recall them, and they hastened back to greet their apostle and his followers. and of that little band there were charles and françois, the sons of old ignace, the iroquois, simon, the oldest of the tribe, and young ignace of great fame, who, we are told, journeyed for four long days and nights having neither food nor drink, in his haste to make good his promise to meet the _robes noires_. so far was the season advanced that the selish had started on their buffalo hunt. therefore, the priests whose supplies were exhausted, with their indian friends, went on to fort hall, procured provisions there, and then proceeded to the beaverhead river to join the tribe. the priests stayed only a few days among the indians who were absorbed in the chase, and again took up their journey with the bitter root valley as the chosen place of permanent rest. there they had determined to build the mission, "the house of the great spirit," and there the selish promised to join them after the hunt was over in the fall. along the course of the hell gate river they took their way and at last came safely within the green refuge of the valley to lay down their burden and build their church. they selected a fair spot near the present site of stevensville and laboured long to fashion the pioneer home of the faith which they called the mission of st. mary's. the good priests went farther still and re-named the valley, the river watering it and the highest peak, st. mary's, so anxious were they in their zeal to eradicate every trace of the old, pagan beliefs of their converts, even to the names of the valleys, lakes and hills! the element of incongruity and pity in this, the zealous fathers did not appreciate. that a jagged, beetling crest, the home of the thunder cloud, the womb whence issues glacier and roaring stream, fit to be jove's dwelling, should bear the mild title of st. mary's, did not shock their notions of the eternal fitness of things. happily, the valley with its rose-starred brocade of flowers, is still the bitter root and a re-awakening interest is calling the old names from their long oblivion to take their places once again, vesting peak and stream and grassy vale with a significance of meaning totally wanting in the artificial foreign titles forced on them by those who neither knew nor cared for their tradition and sentiment. and even the ancient gods and spirits are no longer despised as evils antagonistic to the salvation of the soul. lafcadio hearn expressed pity for the cast-off shinto gods whose places were usurped by the deities of the buddhist creed. likewise, the best christian amongst us, if he looks beneath the surface into the heart of things, must be conscious of a vague regret for the quaint, mythical lore which cast its glamour over the wilderness; for the poor, vanished phantoms of the wood and the gods who have fallen from their thrones. sometimes in the remotest mountain solitudes we dare to acknowledge thoughts we would not harbour elsewhere. under the pensive appeal of the still forests, the heaven-reaching peaks and stream-songs, we wonder if upon the heights, in deep-bosomed caverns, those sad exiles dwell, casting over the cloistered groves a subtle melancholy, evasive as the shadow of a cloud, fleeting as the sigh of the summer wind. but the good fathers of st. mary's had no such thought for the ancient paganism and its symbols. they were busy planting the cross, building a chapel, the best that their strength and skill could erect, and other structures necessary for their protection and comfort. it was a labour of love, as much a religious rite as the saying of the mass, and verily, the ring of the hammers must have seemed in the ears of those devoted men, endless _aves_ and _pater nosters_. finally the work was done. a comfortable log cabin, large enough to hold nearly the assembled tribe, stood in the valley, and when the indians returned from the hunt, they were joyful in this, their reward, for all those brave attempts to bring the light into the wilderness. the mission completed, father de smet travelled to fort colville in washington, a journey of more than three hundred miles, to procure seeds and roots, and on his way he stopped among the kalispehlms, the pend d'oreilles and the coeur d'alenes, all of whom welcomed him and listened attentively to the message he brought. he took back to his selish charges at st. mary's "a few bushels of oats, wheat and potatoes" which he and his brethren sowed. the indians, like children, watched with wonder, the planting, sprouting, ripening and reaping of the crop, a thing hitherto unknown to them, though husbandry on a small scale had been practiced at an earlier date by some of the eastern tribes. but however truly the indians loved their new teachers, the _robes noires_, and however sincerely they accepted the tenets of their faith, they still persisted in buffalo hunts, which twice a year took them into the contested country, and upon these expeditions, fired with excitement, alive with all the heritage of passion inspired by the chase, the war path and the intoxication of glory handed down to them through an ancestry so ancient as to be lost in the dimness of beginnings, they forgot for a time, at least, the life of order, industry and religion they had pledged themselves to lead. therefore, one of the new priests, father point, accompanied them on the hunt, but in the abandon of those days when every sense was strained to find the prey, and every nerve was as tense as the bow-string 'ere it speeds the arrow to its mark, it was impossible to preach to them the gentle word of christianity, so the fathers gave up these attempts and remained at the mission awaiting the return of their straying converts, a situation which was to result sadly for st. mary's. meantime the work was growing. the pend d'oreilles and coeur d'alenes had asked for missionary priests and father de smet needed more helpers in the new land. from st. mary's, the mother mission, father point and brother huet went forth to minister to the coeur d'alenes, where they established the mission of the sacred heart. a third mission, st. ignatius, was founded amongst the kalispehlms on the pend d'oreille river. with these two offshoots from the parent stem of st. mary's, it was necessary for father de smet to seek re-inforcement abroad, but before he sailed he started westward three new recruits from st. louis. it must have been an inspiring sight when this humble priest, fresh from the western woods, the scent of the pines exhaling from him, the breadth of vast distances in his vision, the simplicity of the indians' racial childhood reflected in his own nature, stood before his august holiness, pope gregory xvi., in the grandeur of the vatican at rome, and there, amidst the pomp and ostentation, the wealth and luxury of the headwaters of that church which sends its streams to the utmost corners of the earth, pled the cause of the lowly indian. more imposing still, it must have been, when his holiness arose from his throne and embraced this apostle from the great, new world. the pope sought to make the priest a bishop, but father de smet chose to remain as he was, and certainly in the eyes of unprejudiced laymen, he gained in simple dignity more than he foreswore in ecclesiastical honors. this trip of father de smet to europe has a peculiar interest in that it was the means of bringing into the west, besides numbers of pioneer sisters, and clergy, a man so beloved, so revered that his name--father ravalli--is known by catholic and protestant, indian and white alike, through the whole of the rocky mountain region. those who knew the gentle old man loved him not only for his spirituality, but for his human sweetness. he possessed that breadth of sympathy which sheds mercy on good and bad equally, commiserating the fallen, pitying the weak. he was a native of ferrara, italy, and at a very early age decided to become a missionary priest. that he might be most useful materially as well as religiously, he fitted himself for his work. he graduated in _belles lettres_, philosophy, the natural sciences, and became a teacher in these branches of learning, in several cities of italy. under a skilled physician of rome he studied medicine; in a mechanic's shop he learned the use of tools; finally, in a studio, he practiced the rudiments of art which he always loved. so he came to the indians bringing with him great human kindliness, and the knowledge of crafts and homely pursuits that made their lives more easy and independent. it was he who devised the first crude mill, the means of giving the people flour and bread, he who by a hundred ingenious devices lightened the burden of their toil. but most of all was his practice of medicine a mercy. to stricken infancy or old age he was alike attentive; to dying christians he bent with ready ear and alleviating touch, or as compassionately eased the last throes of highwaymen, heretic or murderer. over the bleak, snowy passes of the mountains, heedless of hardship or danger, he hurried in answer to the appeal of the sick, no matter who they were or where they dwelt. and though often those who went before or came after him were robbed, he was never molested. the most desperate of the "road agents" respected him and suffered him to pass in peace on his way. gently brave, like the good bishop in _les miserables_, his very trustfulness was his safeguard. perhaps as striking an example of his forethought as we can find is the fact that he trained a squaw to give intelligent care to women in the throes of childbirth. there is no record of the mothers and babes spared thus, but there were many, and even the letter of the monkish law never stayed his helping hand or curbed his humane devotion. the more ascetic brethren who lived in colder spiritual altitudes, looked doubtfully upon father ravalli's impartial ministry; the more astute financiers who held the keys to the church's coffers, frowned upon his unrewarded toil, and there comes a whisper through the years that there were times when he was an object of charity because he never asked reward for the surcease of suffering his patient vigils brought. he travelled from one to another of the northwestern missions and even to santa clara, california, but he is known best and loved most as the apostle of the selish at st. mary's. indeed, looking back through the perspective of time at the plain, little mission crowned as with an aureole, one figure stands out clearly among the pious priests, who, in turn, presided at its altar, and this figure is father ravalli. his grave, marked by a shaft of stone, is within the shadow of the church in the valley of the bitter root, and it was fitting he should lie down to rest where he had laboured so long and lovingly. a generation hence, when the hallowed places of the west become shrines about which pilgrims shall gather reverently, this mountain-tomb of the gentle old priest will be visited and written of. meantime, he sleeps as sweetly for the solitude, and those whose lives he made more beautiful by his presence think of him at peace as they turn their eyes heavenward to the infinite rosary of the stars. in spite of the progress of the beneficent work and the fresh blood that had infused new strength into the cause, dark days were to cast their shadow upon the little mission of st. mary's. no power could restrain the selish from the chase, and during their absence twice a year, the colony left behind, consisting only of the priest and those too aged or sick to follow the tribe, were menaced by the blackfeet and bannock indians. the old feud was fanned red hot by the selish killing two blackfeet warriors who invaded the very boundaries of the mission with hostile intent. the threats from the blackfeet became more terrible. they lurked in the thick timber and brush around the stockade which enclosed the mission, and, finally, while the tribe was absent on a buffalo hunt, a rumour reached the anxious watchers that the hostiles would descend in a great war party upon the defenseless community. and indeed, they were roused by war whoop and savage yell to see swarming around their weak barricade, the dreaded enemy. father ravalli was in charge of the mission at that time and he and his companions prepared themselves for the death which seemed inevitable. but the blackfeet, probably seeing that only a man stricken with years, two young boys and a few aged women and little children were all of their hated foe who remained at st. mary's, retreated to the brush. one of the two boys ventured to the gate to make sure the blackfeet were gone and was shot dead. this tragical incident and the more awful menace it carried with it to those who were left at the mercy of the invading tribes, and another reason we shall now consider, led to the temporary abandonment of st. mary's. in those early days, the missions being the only habitations within many hundreds of miles, became the refuge and abiding place during bitter weather, of french-canadian and mixed breed trappers, who in milder seasons ranged over the mountains and plains in pursuit of furs. these half-savage men were undoubtedly a picturesque part of the old, woodland life and their uncouth figures lent animation and colour to the quiet monotone of the religious communities. in the first quarter of the last century we find mention of french-canadians employed by the missouri fur company, appearing on new year's eve, clad in bison robes, painted like indians, dancing _la gignolee_ to the music of tinkling bells fastened to their dress, for gifts of meat and drink. these trappers were, in the day of st. mary's mission, a licentious, roistering band with easy morals, consciences long since gone to sleep, who did not hesitate to debauch the indians, and who feared neither man nor devil. they went to st. mary's as to other shrines, and under the pretext of practicing their religion, lived on the missionaries' scanty stores and filled the idle hours with illicit pastimes. it is said that they became revengeful because of the coolness of their reception by the priests, and maliciously set about to poison the selish against the beloved _robes noires_. however this may be, whether the wayward, capricious children strayed or not, it is certain that they would not sacrifice the buffalo hunt for priest nor promise of salvation, so the mission was dismantled and leased; its poor effects packed and the apostles of the faith started out again to seek refuge in new fields. at hell's gate, the inferno of the blackfeet, they parted; father ravalli to wend his way to the mission of the sacred heart among the coeur d'alenes; the rest, under the escort and protection of victor, the lodge pole, great chief of the selish and father of charlot, followed the coriacan defile to the jocko river and finally arrived at st. ignatius, the mission of the kalispehlms. for a time we leave st. mary's in the sad oblivion of desertion, while those who had tended its altar, poor pilgrims, toiled over diverse trails toward different destinations. it is not necessary to follow the varying fortunes of the few, small missions in the northwestern wilderness, included then within the vast territory called oregon. each has its pathetic story of privation and danger, which may be found complete and detailed in ecclesiastical histories written by priests of the order. we shall pass on to the mission of st. ignatius, whither the party from st. mary's sought refuge, which, in the course of time absorbed some of the lesser institutions and became, as we shall see, the religious center of several tribes. the mission of st. ignatius was the same founded by father point on the banks of the pend d'oreille river among the kalispehlms in the year . the original location proved undesirable, so ten years later the mission was moved to a site chosen by the advice of alexander, chief of the tribe. a wonderful revelation it must have been when the indian guide, leading the priests through a pass in the mountains, the secret of his people, showed them the vast sea of flowing green--the valley of sin-yal-min--barred to the east by the range of the same name. there ever-changing shades of violet and lights of gold altered the mien of these mountains whose jagged peaks showed white with snow, from whose deep bosoms burst a water-fall plunging from mighty altitudes into the emerald bowl of the valley. this was veritably a kingdom in itself, and no white man had trodden the thick embroidery of wild flowers and grass. it had been a gathering place for many tribes. within its luxuriantly fruitful limits, berries and roots grew in plenty and game abounded in the neighbouring hills. in the very palm of sin-yal-min the new mission of st. ignatius was builded. there could scarcely have been a more ideal spot for church and school, forming the nucleus of an agricultural community. there gathered parties of the upper and lower kalisphelms, upper kootenais, flat bowes, pend d'oreilles and selish, to pitch their tipis in the shadow of the mission cross. many of these indians made for themselves little farms where they laboured and lived. entire families of selish moved from the bitter root valley to be near the _robes noires_ they loved. st. ignatius possessed an advantage that bound the indians to it by permanent ties and that was its schools. four pioneer sisters travelling into the rocky mountain region under the guidance of two priests and two laymen, from their home mission in montreal, founded at st. ignatius the first girls' school among the indians of the territory. not long thereafter the priests established a similar school for boys, where they taught not only the french and english languages and the rudiments of a simple education, but also such handicrafts as seemed most necessary to the development of industry. in saddle-making particularly, the boys excelled, and wonderful specimens of leather work have gone forth from the mission shops. thus, largely through its practical industry st. ignatius grew into a powerful institution. building after building was added to the group until a beautiful village sprang up, half hidden among clumps of trees and generous vines. on the outskirts of this community rows of tiny, low, thatch-roofed log cabins were built by the indians to shelter them when they assembled to celebrate such feasts as christmas, good friday and that of st. ignatius, their patron saint. the fates favoured st. ignatius. in the year of its removal the hell's gate treaty was signed wherein the bounds of the reservation were re-adjusted, making the new mission the center of that rich dominion. the treaty of the hell gate, participated in by the selish, the pend d'oreilles and some of the kootenais, was the same, it may be remembered, wherein victor, the father of charlot, insisted upon retaining possession of the bitter root valley "above the lolo fork" for himself and his people, unless after a fair survey by the united states, the president should deem it best to move the tribe to the jocko. this agreement was entered into in . seventeen years went by. the indians declare that no survey was ever made during that time nor were they furnished with school teachers, skilled artisans and agriculturalists to instruct them, as had been promised on the part of the government. summarily the selish were called upon to sign a second agreement, the garfield treaty, which deprived them of their ancestral home and drove them forth to share the jocko reservation in common with the allied tribes. this was at once an impetus to the fortunes of st. ignatius and a mortal blow to st. mary's. that pioneer shrine, abandoned on account of the depredations of the blackfeet, remained dark and silent for sixteen years. the selish mourned the loss of their friends and teachers, the _robes noires_. in spite of the absence of the church's influence, save such intermittent inspiration as the occasional visit of a priest, the selish prayed and waited. and surely, poor, impulsive children that they were, if they had been misled by tale-bearing, mixed breed trappers, their digression was dearly expiated. during those sixteen years they remained faithful to the cause which four delegations of their number had braved danger, privation and death to win. in the meantime the west was changing. the first stern, ascetic days were passing when the best of men's characters was called into active existence to cope with immediate hardship; when every nerve rang true, tuned to the highest bravery and that magnificent indifference to death which makes heroes. the cry of gold ran through the length and breadth of the land and the headlong rush of adventurers, good and bad, from the four corners of the earth, all bent on wealth, changed the spirit of the western world. in that mad stampede, men, spurred by the lust of gain, pushed and crowded each other, and with such competition, who thought of or cared for the indian? his day was done; the accomplishment of his ruin was merely a matter of years. moreover, the lower element of the reckless, pillaging crew of gold seekers brought with it the vices of civilization--drink and the game. change the ideal which inspires a deed and the deed itself is changed. that first, stern west which taught men not to fear by surrounding them with danger, made heroes of them because they had braved the unknown for some noble purpose, religion, the simple love of nature or another reason as good; but in these altered conditions where debauching gain was the one object of their quest, though they spurned death as the pathfinders had done, their bravery sank to bravado and dare-deviltry because their purpose was sordid. with this invasion of the wilderness the whole aspect of the mission work underwent a change. the masked man on horseback stalked the trails; the bizarre glamour of the dance hall flaunted its coarse gaiety in the mushroom camps' thronged streets; the saloon and gaming house brought temptation to the indian, and generally he fell. it was also true that in more than one instance the precedent of bloodshed was set by brigand whites, sowing the seeds which were later to bear a red harvest of war. so, when st. mary's opened her doors in , it was upon a period of transition. if the placid image of our lady, looking through half closed eyelids, could have seen and understood the metamorphosis what a shock would have smitten her sainted soul! the painted, war-bent blackfeet were gone far back into their fastnesses, but here and there, thick and fast, came the white settler, peaceful, cold, inevitable, overwhelming, bringing ruin to the old life and its people--the beginning of the end. and that calm, just mother of mankind would have seen the timid shadow-shapes of the selish melting into the gathering twilight, at once welcoming the stranger to the land and relinquishing it to him, retiring step by step before the great, white inundation. it is useless to prolong the story. the climax had to come, and come it did, swiftly, cruelly, with a dark hint of treachery that we, of the superior race are too willing to excuse and condone. by the garfield treaty, which, by a curious anomaly, never very lucidly explained, bears the sign of charlot, son of victor, hereditary chief of the selish, that he, a man in his sane senses swears he never signed, the tribe renounced all claim to the land of their fathers and consented to betake themselves to the jocko reservation. during the twenty-two years of the existence of st. mary's as an indian mission, after its second opening, the fathers, among them father ravalli, watched over and tended their decreasing charge. the numbers of the red hosts dwindled; the falling off of the people through new and unnatural conditions thinned their ranks, but surer still, was the admixture of the white strain, so corrupting in most cases to the unfortunate in whom the two race strains commingle. but in spite of the garfield treaty, notwithstanding the exodus of the main body of the selish, st. mary's faithful to the end, drew to her little altar the last, failing remnant of the tribe--the splendidly defiant charlot and his band. at last, in , they accepted the inevitable and rode away to the land of their exile resigning to the conquering race their blood-right to the bitter root. this was the death of st. mary's. it remained standing, a church of the whites, but an indian mission no more. in looking back through the years, their mercies and their cruelties, it is a sorrowfully sweet thing to remember that father ravalli, guardian spirit of the selish, lay down to rest before the ultimate change, the final expulsion, while the first light of the wilderness from the altar of st. mary's still shone, however faintly, to show the way. the sequel of st. ignatius is, happily, less pathetic in its unfolding. the life that ebbed from st. mary's flowed amply into the newer mission's growing strength and to-day it stands, substantial and prosperous in the valley of sin-yal-min. though the same tragedy is about to be enacted, the expulsion, less summary, leaving to the individual indian his garden patch, st. ignatius remains a beacon to the dusky hosts, poor frightened children who cling to this last hope, promising as it does a happiness born of suffering, an ultimate reward which not even the white man can take away. a handsome new church, frescoed by an italian brother, does service instead of the old chapel, venerable with age that hides behind the sheltering trees. in front of the modern church stands the great, wooden cross erected by the early fathers, which the indians kneel to kiss before they go to mass. and to the right, covered with wild grass, and that neglect of which such vagrant growths are the emblem, is the old cemetery where so many weary pilgrims who travelled long and painfully over difficult trails, have sought peace past the power of dreams to disturb. here, as we have seen, upon feast days the indians come, the scattered bands gathering from mountain and valley, clad in gala attire. their ranks are thinning fast. the once populous nation of the selish is shrunk to between three and four hundred souls, still the little village often holds a thousand indians all told, from the different neighbouring tribes. and sometimes, bands from far away, distinguished by diversified language, curious basketry and articles of handicraft, come as spectators to the feasts. until a few years ago these religious festivals were preceded by solemn rites of expiation. a kind of open air court was held, the chiefs sitting in judgment upon all offenders and acting in the capacity of judges. the whole tribe assembled to watch with impassive gravity the austere spectacle of the accusation, sentence and chastisement of those who had broken the law. all malefactors were either brought before the chiefs, or spurred by conscience, they came forward voluntarily, confessed their guilt and prayed to be expurgated of sin through the sting of the lash. when the accusations and confessions were finished, the multitude dropped upon their knees and prayed. then those arraigned were examined and such of them as the chiefs decreed guilty, were sentenced and immediately suffered the penalty. a blanket was spread upon the earth and the offender lay on this, his back exposed to the raw-hide lash which marked in welt-raising strokes the degree of his transgression. even while he smarted, never wincing under this ordeal, the spectators at the bidding of the chiefs, prayed once again for the culprit's reformation and forgiveness. such was the practice of the selish handed down from the earliest days. the time and place of the chastisement were regulated in these later years by the catholic festivals, but public punishment with the lash was a custom of the tribe before the missionaries penetrated the west. the confession, the judgment and the whipping they believed to be a complete expiation; having suffered, the sin-soiled were made clean, and thus purified, they met and mingled with the best of their brethren on equal terms, without further reproach. this was a simple and summary form of justice, suited to the people whom it controlled,--was in fact the natural outgrowth of their moral and ethical code--and it is a pity that the ancient law, together with much besides that was desirable in the pristine life of the indian, has been stamped out beneath the master's iron heel. one cannot take leave of the missions of the northwest without looking back upon father de smet, their founder, and the work which he began. through his devotion missions were established among many different nations, even the unyielding blackfeet falling under the spell of gentleness. and he who lived most of his life either in the wilderness or labouring elsewhere for what he believed to be the salvation of its benighted children, died at last at st. louis in , after meditative and reminiscent years spent in recording his travels and his triumphs. there are some subtle questions crying out of the silence which are not to be pushed back unspoken, even though we can find no answer to their riddle. how far have the missionaries succeeded? if completely, why does the christian indian still dance to the sun? and did those fathers in their errand of mercy blindly pass to the people they would fain have saved from annihilation the fate they strove to spare them from? who can say? the indians were probably in their racial infancy when the maturer ranks marched in and absorbed, or otherwise destroyed them. it would seem that with them it is a case of arrested development. if left to themselves, through centuries they might have brought forth a civilization diametrically opposite to our own. that they never could nor can assimilate or profit by our social and educational methods has been sufficiently proved. their race instincts are essentially as foreign to ours as those of the hindu, and their evolution must have necessarily proceeded along totally different lines. the indians were decreed to work out their own salvation or die, and the latter thing has come to pass. one might go on painting mental pictures of what would have been the result if the free, forest-born red race had thrived and grown into maturity. certainly in their decadence, their spirit-broken second childhood, we find the germ of an original moral sense, of tradition and poetry, even of religion, which might have borne rich fruit. the oriental is to us an enigma, and we recognize in his makeup psychic qualities but slightly hinted of in ourselves. so in the indian we must acknowledge a race of distinct and separate values that we can never wholly know or understand. the races are products of countless centuries begotten of habit and environment; we cannot put aside these growth-accumulations builded like the rings of the pine, nor can we take that which the creator made and re-create it to suit our finite ends. therefore, instead of helping the indian we are merely killing him, kindly perhaps, with comforts, colleges and sacraments, but none the less surely striking at his life. and though they are still amongst us, picturesque figures which we value chiefly as relics of a gaily-coloured past, the indians are the mystery of our continent. they speak to us, they smile at us, they sit within our churches and use our tongue, but for all that they remain forever strangers. what pagan beliefs vibrating through the chain of unrecorded ancestry, what hates, loves, aspirations and bitter griefs, separate from our comprehension as the poles, thrill out of the darkness of yesterday and die unspoken, unformed, beneath those calm, bronze brows? they are a problem to be studied, never solved; a riddle one with the sphinx, the cliff dwellers and the aztec ruins. for, after all is said, what do even the good fathers, with candle, crucifix and creed, know of their primal souls, of the unsounded depths of their hearts? _the people of the leaves_ [illustration: francois] chapter v the people of the leaves among the early canadian french the sioux were known as the _gens des feuilles_, or people of the leaves. this poetical title seems very obscure in its meaning, at first, but it may have originated in a legend of the creation which is as follows: in the ultimate beginning, the great spirit made the world. under his potent, life-giving heat the seeds within the soil burst into bloom and the earth was peopled with trees--trees of many kinds and forms, the regal pine and cedar in evergreen beauty and the other hosts whose leaves bud with the spring, change with the autumn and die with the winter's snow. these trees were all possessed of souls and some of them yearned to be free. the great spirit, from his throne in the blue skies, penetrating the slightest shadow of a leaf, divining the least unfolding of a bud with his all-seeing, omnipotently sensitive beams radiating like nerves from his golden heart, perceived the sorrow of the sighing forests and mourned with tears of rain at their discontent. then he knew that a world of trees, however beautiful, was not complete and he loosed the souls from their prisons of bark and limb and re-created them in the form of indians, who lived in the shelter of the woods, knit to them by the eternal kinship of primal soul-source--verily the people of the leaves. * * * * * it is not strange that among a nation which adored the sun, the chief ceremony should have been the sun dance, at once a propitiatory offering to the great spirit and a public test of metal before a young man could become a brave. the custom was an ancient one, as ancient, perhaps, as the legend of the leaves, and in the accounts of the earliest explorers and missionaries we read of this dance to the sun; of the physical heroism which was the fruit of the torture and filled the ranks of soldiery with men spartan in fine scorn of pain and contempt of death. it is interesting to trace similar practices in races widely separate in origin, habits and beliefs, and it seems curious that this rite of initiation into the honourable host of the braves, however dissimilar in outer form, was not totally unlike in spirit the test of knighthood for the hallowed circle of the table round. the festival of the sun dance was celebrated every year in the month of july, when the omnipotent orb reached his greatest strength, is, indeed, still celebrated, but without the torture which was its reason for being. a pole was driven deep and solid in the ground and from the top, somewhat after the manner of a may-pole, long, stout thongs depended. after incantations by the medicine men, the youths desiring to distinguish themselves came forward in the presence of the assembled multitude, to receive the torture which should condemn them as squaw men or entitle them to fold their blankets as braves. with a scalping knife the skin was slit over each breast and raised so a thong from the pole could pass beneath and be fastened to the strip of flesh. when all were bound thus, the dance began to the time of a tom-tom and the chant. goaded by pride into a kind of frenzy the novices danced faster, more wildly, leaping higher, bending lower, until they tore the cords loose from their bleeding bosoms and were free. if, during the ordeal, one fainted or yielded in any way to the agony, he was disgraced before his tribe, cast out as a white-hearted squaw man until the next year's festival, when he might try to wipe out the stain and enter the band of the brave. if, on the other hand, all the young men bore the torture without flinching, their spirits rising superior to all bodily pain, they were received as warriors and earned the right to wear the medicine bag. often one of greater puissance than his fellows wished further to distinguish himself by a test extraordinary and submitted to a second torture more heroic than the first. he suffered the skin over his shoulder blades to be slit as his breast had been and through these gashes thongs were drawn and fastened as before, but this time the ends were attached to a sacred bison's skull, kept for the purpose, which the brave dragged over rough, rocky ground and through underbrush, until his strained flesh gave way and freed him of his burden. this feat entitled him to additional honors and he was respected and held worthy by the great men of the tribe. after the torture, when a youth was declared a brave he retired to the wilderness, there in solitude to await the message of the great spirit which would reveal to him his medicine, or charm. this "making medicine" as it was called, was a rite of most solemn sacredness and secrecy and therefore shrouded in mystery. from the lips of one who, in days past, when the ancient customs were rigidly preserved, followed and watched a newly made brave, the ensuing narrative was gleaned. after dark the young indian took his way cautiously far off into silent, unpeopled places where sharp escarpments cut like cameos against the sky. there, poised upon the cliffs, his slim figure silhouetted against the moonlit clouds, he remained rigid as a statue through long hours, waiting for the voice from above by whose revelation he should learn wherein his power lay. then lifting his arms towards the heavens he made strange signs to the watchful stars. so he remained 'till dawn paled from the east, when, having received his message, he went forth to seek the animal which should hereafter be his manitou, or guardian spirit. sometimes it was the bison, the elk, the beaver, the weasel or other beast of his native wild. into his bag he put a tooth or claw and some fur of the chosen creature, with herbs which might be propitious. such was his charm, his medicine-bag, the source of his valour and safety, to be worn sleeping and waking, in peace and in war; to be guarded with his life and to go with him in death back to the great spirit by whom it was ordained. if a warrior lost his medicine-bag in battle, he became an outcast among his people and his disgrace was not to be wiped out until he slew and took from an enemy's body the medicine-bag which replaced his own and thus retrieved his honour. of all the quaint ceremonies connected with the old wood-worship and sun-worship, combining the idea of beginning and end, of pre-existence and after-existence, none are more interesting than the rites attending the burial of the dead. as the indians sprang from the forest trees, according to the myth of the leaves, lived in the shadow of the pleasant woods, so at last, they were received into the strong, embracing branches that tossed over them in wild gestures when the great spirit spoke in anger from the sky; that tempered the summer's heat into cooling shadow for their repose; that shed their gift of crimson leaves upon the indians' devoted heads even as they, themselves, must shed the garb of flesh before the blast of death. or, sometimes, the dead were exalted upon a naked rock, rising above earth's levels toward the sun. wherever his resting place might be, the dead man sat upright, if a brave, dressed in his full war regalia, surrounded by his most prized possessions and if he owned a horse, it was shot so its shade might bear his spirit on the long, dark, devious way to the happy hunting ground. no mournful ghost who met his death in darkness could ever bask in the celestial light of endless summer-time; he was doomed to become a phantom living in perpetual night. that is the reason none but forced battles were fought after dark; the bravest of the braves feared the curse of everlasting shadow. they believed, too, that no warrior who lost his scalp could enter the fields of the glorious; hence the taking of an enemy's scalp at once killed and damned him. the suicide was likewise barred from paradise. * * * * * years ago, when the feuds of the hostile tribes still broke into the red vengeance of the war-path, the sioux and cheyennes did battle with the gros ventres at squaw butte, and by some mischance a medicine man of the sioux, not engaged in the combat, whose generalship lay in marshalling the manitous to the aid of his people, was killed. a traveller, journeying alone in the mountains, found him high upon a cliff with his blanket and war dress tumbling about his bleaching bones, his medicine-bag and all the emblems of his magic preserved intact. in the bag was a grizzly bear's claw, an elk's tooth, and among other trinkets, a small, smooth brass button of the kind worn by the rivermen trading up and down the missouri river between the east and the savage west. it would be interesting to trace the migrations and transfiguration of that little button from its existence as an humble article of dress to the dignity of a charm in the medicine-bag of the old magician on that isolated cliff. and the master of magic himself; he of prophetic powers and knowledge born of intercourse with the gods; there he sat, an arrow through his skull, his blind, eyeless sockets uplifted to the sun, his necromancy unavailing, his wisdom but a dream! in that remote home which his devoted tribesmen chose for him, no irreverent hand had disturbed his watch, and he is probably still sitting, sitting with blind eyes toward the sun while eagles circle overhead and gray wolves howl to the moon. the years pass on unheeded, the face of the land has changed, is changing, will change, and the rustling, swirling leaves of autumn fall thick and fast. mayhap, after all, the old magic master, keeping his eternal vigil, may see from beyond the flesh the thinning woods and the dead leaves dropping from the trees; hear their weary rustle--poor ghosts, as they flutter before the wintry wind. and among the lessening trees, also driven by the northern blast, does he see also, a gaunt and silent troop of phantoms--mere autumn leaves--whirling away before the storm? _the passing buffalo_ chapter vi the passing buffalo i it was summertime in the mountains--that short, passionate burst of warm life between the long seasons of the snow. the world lay panting in the white light of the sun, over gorge and pine-clad hill floated streamers of haze, and along the ground slanted thin, blue shadows. the sky pulsed in ether waves and the distant peaks, azure also, with traceries of silver, were as dim as the memory of a dream. in this untrodden wilderness the passing years have left no record save in the gradual growth of forest trees, and in its rugged beauty it is the same as a century ago. therefore time itself seems arrested, and it is scarcely strange to come upon a buffalo skull naked and bleached by sun and rain, and close by, half hidden in the loose rocks, an arrow head of pure, black obsidian. this, then, was once the scene of a brave chase when wind-swift indians pursued mad, hurtling herds over mountain slope and plain. these empty fastnesses thrilled to the shock of thousands of beating hoofs, these hills flung back the echo to the brooding silence as the black tide flowed on, pressed by deadly huntsmen armed with barb and bow. and even then, far over the horizon, unseen by hunted and hunters, silent as the shadow of a cloud, inevitable as destiny, came the white race, moving swifter than either one, driving them unawares toward the great abyss where they should vanish forever into the happy hunting ground, lighted by perpetual summer and peopled by immortal herds and tribes. ii in such a remote and deserted place as this, no great effort of the imagination is needed to call up the shades of those who once inhabited it, to react their part in the tragedy of progress. let us fancy that a riper, richer glow is upon the mountains, that the white light of the sun has deepened into an amber flood which quivers between the arch of lapis-lazuli sky and the warm, balsam-scented earth that sighs forth the life of the woods. already the trees not of the evergreen kind are hung with bewilderingly gorgeous leaves of scarlet, russet-brown and yellowing green; the haze has grown denser and its ghostly presence insinuates itself among the very needles of the pines. it is autumn. the gush of life has reached its climax and is ebbing. high on the steepled mountains is a wreath of filmy white that trails low in the ravines. it seems as fragile as a bridal veil, but it is the foreword of winter which will soon descend with driving blast and piping gale, lancing sleet and enshrouding snow to chill the last red ember-glow of the brilliant autumnal days. it was at this time that the indian's blood ran hot with longing for the hunt. lodges were abandoned and only those too weak to stand the hardship of the march were left behind. chiefs and braves, women and children struck out for the haunts of the buffalo where the fat herds grazed before the impending cold. these children of the forest sought their prey with the woodcraft handed down from old to young through unnumbered generations. indeed, it was necessary for them to outwit the game by strategy in the early days before the wealthy and progressive nez percé kayuses, who were first to break the wild horses of the western plains, brought the domesticated pony among them. in passing, it is interesting to know that the term "cayuse" applied to all indian horses, had its origin with this tribe, since the chief article of trade of the kayuses was the horse, the horse of indian commerce became known as a "cayuse." the selish used the method of the stockade. after the march into the buffalo country, they camped in a spot where they could easily fashion an enclosed park by means of barricades built among the trees. a great council of the chiefs and warriors was held and this august body appointed a company of braves to guard the camp and prevent any person from leaving its boundaries lest in so doing the wily buffalo should become alarmed and quit the neighbouring hills. the council proclaimed anew the ancient laws of the chase, and then began the building of the pen. this was a kind of communal work in which the entire tribe engaged, and as all contributed labor so all should benefit alike from its fruits. there within the mock park, whose pleasant green fringe of trees was in reality a prison wall, would be trapped and killed the food for the sterile winter months, when, but for that bounty, starvation would stalk gaunt among them and lay the strongest warrior as low as a new born babe or the feebly old who totter on the threshold of death. the place chosen for the pen was a level glade and the enclosure was built with a single opening facing a cleft in the surrounding hills. from this opening, an avenue also cunningly fenced and gradually widening towards the hills, was constructed, so that the animals driven thither, could escape neither to the right nor the left, but must needs plunge into the imprisoning park. next came the election of the master of ceremonies, the lord of the pen. he was a man seasoned with experience, mighty with the knowledge of occult things--one of the _wah-kon_, medicine men or jugglers, who possessed the power of communicating with the great spirit. this high functionary determined the crucial moment when the hunt should begin, and when the buffalo, roused from the inertia of grazing, should be driven into the snare. in the center of the clearing he posted the "medicine-mast," made potent by three charms, "a streamer of scarlet cloth two or three yards long, a piece of tobacco and a buffalo horn," which were supposed to entice the animals to their doom. it was he who, in the early dawn, aroused the sleeping camp with the beating of his drum and the chanting of incantations; who conferred with the great manitous of the buffalo to divine when the time for the chase had come. under the grand master were four swift runners who penetrated into the surrounding country to find where the buffalo were browsing and to assist by material observation the promptings of the spirits of the hunt. they were provided by the grand master with a _wah-kon_ ball of skin stuffed with hair, and when the herds were found in a favourable spot and the wind blew from the direction of the animals to the pen, one of the runners, breathless with haste, bearing in his hand the magic ball, appeared before the grand master and proclaimed the joyful news. there was a mighty beating of the grand master's drum, and out of the lodges ran the excited people, all bent with concentrated energy upon the approaching sport. every horseman mounted, and those less fortunate armed themselves and took their positions in two lines extending from the entrance to the enclosure toward the open, separating more widely as the distance from the pen increased, thus forming a v shape with but a narrow gateway where the lines converged. then through the silent, human barricade rode the bravest of the braves, astride the fleetest horse and he went unarmed, always against the wind, enveloped in a buffalo skin which hung down over his mount. all was quiet. only the light autumn wind flowing through the trees carried the curious, crisp, cropping noise of thousands of iron-strong jaws tearing the lush, green grass. and as the rider came upon the crest of the hill and looked at the panorama of waving verdure peopled by multitudes of bison stretching far away across the meadows and over the rolling ground beyond, it must have been a sight to quicken the pulses and stir the blood. suddenly there sounded a prolonged and distressing cry--the cry of a buffalo calf which wailed shrilly for a moment, then ceased. it came from the brave alone in the open, shrouded in the buffalo hide. there was a movement in the herd. every heavily maned head rose, and quivering nostrils snuffed the running wind. at first the buffalo advanced slowly, as if in doubt; gradually their pace quickened to a trot, a gallop, then lo! the whole vast band came hurtling and lurching in its furious career like the swells of a tempestuous, black sea, breaking into angry waves at every shock. and from those deep throats came a mighty roar, ponderous and resonant as the thunder of the surf. still the cry of the calf reverberated and re-echoed, and the single horseman crouching beneath his masquerade, led the herd on and on, eluding their onslaught, luring them forward between the lines of his companions who stood silent, trembling with eagerness for the sport. then pell-mell the mounted hunters rushed out from cover and the wide extremes of the v shaped line closed in so that the horsemen were behind the herd. this done, the wind blowing toward the corral, took the scent of the indians to the buffalo. pandemonium reigned. men, women and children on foot, leaped out from their hiding places with demoniac yells, brandishing spears, hurling stones and shooting arrows from their bows. the stampeded animals, surrounded save for the one loophole ahead, plunged into the pen. the chase was over and the slaughter began. the tribe would live well that winter-time! * * * * * among the omawhaws of the first part of the last century, the hunt was preceded by much preparation and ceremony. generally by the month of june their stores of jerked buffalo meat were well-nigh exhausted, and the little crops of maize, pumpkins, beans and water-melons, with the yield of the small hunting parties pursuing beaver, otter, elk, deer and other game, were scarcely sufficient to fill the wants of the tribe. so, after the harvesting and trading were done, the chiefs called a council and ordered a feast to be held in the lodge of one of the most distinguished of their number, to which all hunters, warriors and chiefs should be invited. accordingly the squaws of the chosen host were commanded by him to make ready the choicest maize and the plumpest dog for the ceremonial board. when all was in readiness the host called two or three venerable criers to his lodge. he smoked the calumet with them, then whispered that they should go through the village proclaiming the feast and bidding the guests whom he named. he instructed the criers to "speak in a loud voice and tell them to bring their bowls and spoons." they sallied forth singing among the lodges, calling to the distinguished personages to come to the banquet. after these summons the criers went back to the lodge of the host, quickly followed by the guests who were seated according to their rank. the ceremony of smoking was performed first, then the head chief arose, thanked his braves for coming and explained to them the object of the assembly, which was the selection of a hunting ground and the appointment of a time to start. after him the others spoke, each giving his opinion frankly, but always careful to be respectful of the opinions of others. neither squaws nor children were suffered to be present. the criers tended the kettle and when the speech-making was done, one dipped out a ladle of soup, held it toward the north, south, east and west, and cast it into the ashes of the fire. he also flung a bit of the best part of the meat into the flame as a sacrifice to _wahconda_, the great spirit. the guests then received their portions, the excellence of which depended upon their rank. the feast closed as it began, with the smoking of the calumet and at its conclusion the criers went forth again, chanting loud songs in praise of the generosity of the host, enumerating the chiefs and warriors who partook of his bounty, finally proclaiming the decision of the council and announcing the time and place of the hunt. this was an occasion of great rejoicing. the squaws at once began to mend the clothing and the weapons of their lords and pack their goods; and the young braves, gay with paint and bright raiment, beguiled the hours with gaming and dancing in the presence of the chiefs. when the day of the journey arrived the whole community departed, the chiefs and wealthy warriors on horseback, the poorer folk afoot. sometimes the quest of the buffalo was prolonged over weary weeks, and a meager diet of _pomme blanche_ or ground-apple, was insufficient to stay the pangs of hunger that assailed the tribe. the hunters preceded the main body, carefully reconnoitering the country for bison or foes. when at length herds were discovered, the hunters threw up their robes as a signal, the tribe halted and the advance party returned to report. they were received with pomp and dignity by the chiefs and medicine men who sat before the people solemnly smoking and offering articulate thanks to _wahconda_. in a low voice the hunters informed the dignitaries of the presence of buffalo. these mighty personages, in turn, questioned the huntsmen as to the numbers and respective distances of the herds, and they replied by illustrating with small sticks the relative positions of the bands. an old man of high standing then addressed the people, telling them that the coveted game at length was nigh, and that on the morrow they would be rewarded for the long fast and fatigue. that night a council was held and a corps of stout warriors elected to keep order. these officers painted themselves black, wore the _crow_ and were armed with war-clubs in order that they might enforce the mandates of the council and preserve due decorum among the excited tribe folk. early in the morning the hunters on horseback, carrying only bows and arrows and the warriors provided with war-clubs, led by the pipe-bearer who bore the sacred calumet, advanced on foot. once in view of the splendid, living masses covering the green plains as with a giant sable robe, they halted for the pipe-bearer, the representative of the magi, to perform the propitiatory rite of smoking. he lighted his calumet of red, baked clay, bowed his head in silence, then held the stem in the direction of the herds. after this he smoked, exhaling the aromatic clouds towards the buffalo, the heavens, the earth and the four points of the compass, called by them the "sunrise, sunset, cold country and warm country," or by the collective term of the "four winds." at the completion of this ceremony the head chief gave the signal and the huntsmen charged upon their prey. from this point their methods were somewhat the same as those of the selish, except that instead of building a stockade, they, themselves, enclosed the herd in a living circle, pressing closer and closer upon it until the killing was complete. this surrounding hunt was called _ta-wan-a-sa_. the chase was the grand event, the test of horsemanship, of archery, of fine game-craft and often the opportunity for glory on the war-path as well--for where the buffalo abounded there lurked the hidden enemy, also seeking the coveted herds, and an encounter meant battle to the death. both ponies and hunters were trained to the ultimate perfection of skill and the favoured buffalo horse served no other purpose than to bear his master in the chase. as the cavalcade descended upon the startled game, the rider caressed his faithful steed, called him "father," "brother," "uncle," conjured him not to fear the angry beasts yet not to be too bold lest he be hurt by goring horns and stamping hoofs, and urged him with honeyed speech to the full fruit of his strength and cunning. and the horse, responding, flew with wingéd stride, unguided by reins to the edge of the compact, fleeing band, never hesitating, never halting until the shoulder of the animal pursued, was exposed to the death-dealing shot. it was just behind the shoulder blade that the huntsman sought to strike. the inclination of his body in one direction or another was sufficient to send the horse speeding after fresh prey. the hunters, themselves, scorned danger and knew not fear. if they were uncertain how deep the arrow had penetrated they rode close to the infuriated brute to examine the nature of the shot, and if necessary to shoot again. and even though in the grand _melée_, a single animal was often pierced with many arrows, there were seldom quarrels as to whom the quarry belonged, so nicely could they reckon the value of the different shots and determine which had dealt the most speedy death. onward and onward they sped, circling and advancing at once, like a whirlwind on the face of the prairie. at length, the darting riders were seen more and more vividly as they compressed their line about the routed band, until finally, only a heap of carcasses lay where the herd had been. then the tribe came upon the scene. the squaws cut and packed the meat. if a hunter were unfortunate and killed no game, he helped dissect the buffalo of a lucky rival. on completion of his task he stuck his knife in the portion of the meat he desired and it was given to him as compensation for his labor. someone, either by order of the chief or of his own free will, presented his kill to the medicine for a feast. there was great revelry and joy, dancing and eating of marrow bones, to celebrate the aftermath of the royal sport. iii although the meat of the buffalo was the indians' chief article of food, this was by no means the only bond between the red man and the aboriginal herds of the plains. besides the almost innumerable utilitarian purposes for which the different parts of the animals were used, there was scarcely a phase of life or a ceremony in which they did not figure. in the dance, a rite of the first importance, in the practice of the _wah-kon_, or medicine, in the legends of the creation and the after-death, the buffalo had his place. such lore might make a quaint and curious volume, but we shall consider only the more striking uses and traditions of the bison in their relation to the life of the early west. the buffalo was, in truth, the great political factor among the tribes; nearly all of the bitter warfare between nation and nation was for no other purpose than to maintain or gain the right to hunt in favourable fields. thus the judith basin, the region of the musselshell and many other haunts of the herds, became also battle fields of bloodshed and death. not only did the bison cause hostilities among the nations, but they were likewise the reason of internal strife. it is said that the assiniboines, or sioux of the mountains, separated from the main body of the tribe on account of a dispute between the wives of two rival chiefs, each of whom persisted in having for her portion the entire heart of a fine bison slain in the chase. this was the beginning of a feud which split the nation into independent, antagonistic tribes. the utmost economy was generally observed by the early indians in the use of the buffalo. each part of the animal served some particular purpose. the tongue, the hump and the marrow bones of the thighs were considered the greatest delicacies. the animals killed for meat were almost always cows, for the flesh of buffalo bulls could be eaten only during the months of may and june. among the omawhaws of nearly two centuries ago, all the meat save the hump and chosen parts reserved for immediate use, was cut into "large, thin slices" and either dried by the heat of the sun or "jerked over a slow fire on a low scaffold." after being thoroughly cured it was compressed into "quadrangular packages" of a convenient size to carry on a pack saddle. the small intestines were carefully cleaned and turned inside out to preserve the outer coating of fat, then dried and woven into a kind of mat. these mats were packed into parcels of the same shape and size as the meat. even the muscular coating of the stomach was preserved. the large intestines were stuffed with flesh and used without delay. the vertebrae were pulverized with a stone axe after which the crushed bone was boiled. the very rich grease that arose to the surface was skimmed and preserved in bladders for future use. the stomach and bladder were filled with this and other sorts of fat, or converted into water bottles. all of the cured meat was _cached_, in french-canadian phrase, until hunger drove the indians to draw upon these stores. the pemmican of song and history was a kind of hash made by toasting buffalo meat, then pulverizing it to a fine consistency with a stone hammer. mr. james mooney in the _fourteenth annual report of the bureau of ethnology_, describes the process as follows; "in the old times a hole was dug in the ground and a buffalo hide was staked over so as to form a skin dish, into which the meat was thrown to be pounded. the hide was that from the neck of the buffalo, the toughest part of the skin, the same used for shields, and the only part which would stand the wear and tear of the hammers. in the meantime the marrow bones are split up and boiled in water until all the grease and oil comes to the top, when it is skimmed off and poured over the pounded beef. as soon as the mixture cools, it is sewed up into skin bags (not the ordinary painted parfléche cases) and laid away until needed. it was sometimes buried or otherwise cached. pemmican thus prepared will keep indefinitely. when prepared for immediate use, it is usually sweetened with sugar, mesquite pods, or some wild fruit mixed and beaten up with it in the pounding. it is extremely nourishing, and has a very agreeable taste to one accustomed to it. on the march it was to the prairie indian what parched corn was to the hunter of the timber tribes, and has been found so valuable as a condensed nutriment that it is extensively used by arctic travellers and explorers. a similar preparation is used upon the pampas of south america and in the desert region of south africa, while the canned beef of commerce is an adaptation from the indian idea. the name comes from the cree language, and indicates something mixed with grease or fat. (lacombe.)" among the sioux at pine ridge and rosebud, in the ceremony of the ghost dance, pemmican was celebrated in the sacred songs. mr. mooney gives the translation of one of them: _"give me my knife,_ _give me my knife,_ _i shall hang up the meat to dry--ye'ye'!_ _i shall hang up the meat to dry--ye'ye'!_ _says grandmother--yo'yo'!_ _says grandmother--yo'yo'!_ _when it is dry i shall make pemmican,_ _when it is dry i shall make pemmican,_ _says grandmother--yo'yo'!_ _says grandmother--yo'yo'!"_ * * * * * though at first the main object for which the buffalo was hunted was the flesh, next in importance and afterwards foremost, was the hide made into the buffalo robe of commerce. since these robes played such an important part in the early traffic and were partly responsible for the annihilation of the bison, it is worth while to consider how they were procured and treated. the skins to be dressed were taken in the early spring while the fur was long, thick and luxuriant. those obtained in the autumn called "summer skins" were used only in the making of lodges, clothing, and for other domestic purposes. to the squaws was assigned the preparation of the hides as well as the cutting and curing of the meat. immediately after the hunt while in the "green" state the skins were stretched and dried. after this, they were taken to the village and subjected to a process of curing which was carried on during the leisure of the women. the hide was nearly always cut down the center of the back so that it could be more easily manipulated. the two parts were then spread upon the ground and scraped with a tool like an adze until every particle of flesh was removed. in this way all unnecessary thickness was obviated and the hide was made light and pliable. when the skin had been reduced to the proper thinness a dressing made of the liver and brains of the animal were spread over it. this mixture was allowed to dry and the same process was repeated save that in the second instance while the hide was wet it was stretched in a frame, carefully scraped with pumice stone, sharp-edged rocks or a kind of hoe, until it was dry. to make it as flexible as possible, it was then drawn back and forth over twisted sinew. the parts were sewed together with sinew and the buffalo robe was ready for the trader's hands. as early as these robes were in great demand and one trader reported that in a single year he shipped fifteen thousand to st. louis. in the everyday life of the indians the products of the buffalo yielded nearly every comfort and necessity. the hides were used not only for robes and portable lodges which furnished shelter on the march, but they were made into battle shields; upon their tanned surface the primitive artist traced his painted record of the chase, the fray, or the mystic medicine. they were laid upon the earth for the young braves to play their endless games of chance upon, and the wounded were taken from the field on stretchers of buffalo hides swung between a pair of ponies. from them two kinds of boats were made. one, described by james in his account of the journey of his party in - is as follows: "our heavy baggage was ferried across in a portable canoe, consisting of a single bison hide, which we carried constantly with us. its construction was extremely simple; the margin of the hide being pierced with several small holes, admits a cord, by which it is drawn into the form of a shallow basin. this is placed upon the water, and is kept sufficiently distended by the baggage which it receives; it is then towed or pushed across. a canoe of this kind will carry from four to five hundred pounds." the second variety, known as a "bull-boat," was made of willows woven into a round basket and lined with buffalo hide. the grease of these beasts was used to anoint the indians' bodies and to season the maize or corn. from the horns were made spoons, sometimes holding half a pint, and often ornamented upon the handles with curious carving. the shoulder blade fastened to a stick served for a hoe or a plow. from the hide of unborn buffalo calves bags were made to contain the war-paint of braves. it would be at once possible and profitable to continue enumerating the practical uses of the buffalo, but far more interesting than these facts were the ceremonies, superstitions and traditions in which they were bound up. perhaps, first among the rites in sacred significance and solemn dignity was the smoking of the calumet. this was supposed to be not only an expression of peace among men and nations, but a propitiatory offering to the manitous, or guardian spirits, and to the master of life. according to colonel mallory in the _tenth annual report of the bureau of ethnology_, the sioux believed that this supreme emblem of good will was brought to them by a white buffalo cow, in the old days when the different bands of the nation were torn with internal strife. during this period of hostility a beautiful white buffalo cow appeared, bearing a pipe and four grains of corn, each of a different colour. from the milk which dripped from her body, sprang the living corn, so from the beginning the grain and the buffalo meat were decreed to be the food of the indians. she gave to the rival factions, the pipe which was the sacred calumet, instructing them that it was the symbol of peace among men and he who smoked it with his fellows, by that act sealed the bond of brotherhood. after staying for awhile among the grateful people, and teaching them to call her "grandmother," which is a term of affectionate reverence among the indians, she led them to plentiful herds of her own kind and vanished into the spiritland whence she came. the odour of the buffalo was believed to be agreeable to the great spirit so that the tobacco or kinnikinick of the calumet was flavoured with animal's excrement in order that the aroma wafted upward might be most pleasing. this custom of flavouring the pipe with the scent of the buffalo was carefully observed by the pawnee loups of the olden time, a tribe which claimed descent from the ancient mexicans, in the awful ceremonies preceding a human sacrifice to venus, the "great star." upon this austere occasion four great buffalo skulls were placed within the lodge where the celebration was held and they were offered the sacred _nawishkaro_ or calumet. the bodies of their chiefs or those who died gloriously in war were robed in buffalo skins, furnished with food and weapons, and placed sitting upright, in a little lodge near a route of travel or a camp in order that the passers by might see that they had met their death with honour. the pawnees also used bison skulls as signals, and we find in james' _travels_ this interesting account: "at a little distance in front of the entrance of this breastwork, was a semi-circular row of sixteen bison skulls, with their noses pointing down the river. near the center of the circle which this row would describe if continued, was another skull marked with a number of red lines. "our interpreter informed us that this arrangement of skulls and other marks here discovered, were designed to communicate the following information, namely, that the camp had been occupied by a war party of the pawnee loup indians, who had lately come from an excursion against the cumancias, tetans or some of the western tribes. the number of red lines traced on the painted skull indicated the number of the party to have been thirty-six; the position in which the skulls were placed, that they were on their return to their own country. two small rods stuck in the ground, with a few hairs tied in two parcels to the end of each signified that four scalps had been taken." there are many other similar instances recorded by different adventurers who braved the early west, yet this was but one of numerous uses of buffalo skulls and heads. among the aricaras upon each lodge was a trophy of the war path or the chase composed of strangely painted buffalo heads topped with all kinds of weapons. there was a curious belief among the minitarees that the bones of the buffalo killed in the chase became rehabilitated with flesh and lived again, to be hunted the following year. in support of this superstition they had a legend that once upon a time on a great hunt a boy of the tribe was lost. his people gave him up for dead but the succeeding season a huge bison was slain and when the body was opened the boy stepped out alive and well. he related to his dumbfounded companions, how the year before, he had become separated from them as he pursued a splendid bull. he felled his game with an arrow, but so far had he gone that it was too late to overtake and rejoin the tribe before nightfall. therefore, he cut into the bison's body, removed a portion of the intestines and feeling the keen frost of evening upon his unsheltered body, sought warmth within the carcass. but, lo! when the boy awakened the buffalo was whole again and he was a prisoner within his whilom prey! the gros ventres, in the day of lewis and clark, thought that if the head of the slain buffalo were treated well, the living herd would come in plentiful numbers to yield an abundance of meat. of the many bands into which the omawhaw nation was divided there were two, the _ta-pa-eta-je_ and the _ta-sin-da_, bison tail, which had the buffalo for their medicine. the first of these were sworn to abstain from touching buffalo heads, and the second were forbidden the flesh of the calves until the young animals were more than one year old. if these vows were broken by a member of the band and the sacred pledge so violated, a judgment such as blindness, white hair or disease was believed to be sent upon the offender. even should one innocently transgress the law, a visitation of sickness was accounted his condign portion and not only he but his family were included in the wrath and punishment of the outraged manitous. the crow indians, up-sa-ro-ka, or absaroka, used the buffalo as a part of their great medicine. an early traveller, dougherty, describes an extraordinary "arrangement of the magi." in his own words, "the upper portion of a cottonwood tree was emplanted with its base in the earth, and around it was a sweat house, the upper part of the top of the tree arising through the roof. a _gray_ bison skin, extended with oziers on the inside so as to exhibit a natural appearance, was suspended above the house, and on the branches were attached several pairs of children's moccasins and leggings, and from one limb of the tree, a very large fan made of war-eagles' feathers was dependent." this leads to an interesting superstition of the indians, which was that any variation in the usual colour of the buffalo was caused by the special interference of the master of life, and a beast so distinguished from his kind was venerated religiously, much as the ancient egyptians worshipped the sacred bull. once a "grayish-white" bison was seen and upon another occasion a calf with white forefeet and a white frontal mark. an early traveller once saw in an indian lodge, the head of a buffalo perfectly preserved, which was marked by a white star. the man to whom it belonged treasured it as his medicine, nor would he part with it at any price. "'the herds come every season,' he said, 'into the vicinity to seek their white-faced companion!'" maximilian, in his _travels in north america_, gives an interesting description of the martial and sacred significance of the robes of white buffalo cows among the mandans and minitarees. he says that the brave who has never possessed this emblem is without honour, and the merest youth who has obtained it ranks above the most venerable patriarch who has never owned the precious hide. indeed, "of all the distinctions of any man the white buffalo hide" was supreme. as the white buffalo were extremely rare it was seldom a hunter killed one for himself. the robes were brought by other tribes, often from far distant parts of the country, to the mandans who traded from ten to fifteen horses for a perfect specimen. it was necessary for the hide to be that of a young cow not more than two years old, and it had to be cured "with the horns, nose, hoofs and tail" complete, in maximilian's words: "the mandans have peculiar ceremonies at the dedication of the hide. as soon as they have obtained it they engage an eminent medicine man, who must throw it over him; he then walks around the village in the apparent direction of the sun's course, and sings a medicine song. when the owner, after collecting articles of value for three or four years, desires to offer his treasure to the lord of life, or to the first man, he rolls it up, after adding some wormwood or a head of maize, and the skin then remains suspended on a high pole till it rots away. at the time of my visit there was such an offering at _mih-tutta-hang-kush_, near the stages for the dead without the village. sometimes, when the ceremony of dedication is finished, the hide is cut into small strips, and the members of the family wear parts of it tied over the head, or across the forehead, when they are in full dress. if a mandan kills a young white buffalo cow it is accounted to him as more than an exploit, or having killed an enemy. he does not cut up the animal himself, but employs another man, to whom he gives a horse for his trouble. he alone who has killed such an animal is allowed to wear a narrow strip of the skin in his ears. the whole robe is not ornamented, being esteemed superior to any other dress, however fine. the traders have, sometimes, sold such hides to the indians, who gave them as many as sixty other robes in exchange. buffalo skins with white spots are likewise highly valued by the mandans; but there is a race of these animals with very soft, silky hair, which has a beautiful gold lustre when in the sunshine; these are, likewise, highly prized." there are numerous myths of a white buffalo cow, who at will, assumed the form of a beautiful maiden. the sioux in common with the aricaras and the minitarees observed the custom of fasting before going to war or upon the hunt. they had a "medicine lodge," where a buffalo robe was spread and a red painted post was planted. upon the top of the lodge was tied a buffalo calf skin holding various sacred objects. after preliminary rites they tortured themselves, one favorite method being to make a gash under their shoulder blades, run cords through the wounds and drag two large bison heads to a hill about a mile distant from their village, where they danced until they fell fainting with exhaustion. some of the tribes performed the _ta-nuguh-wat-che_, or bison dance. the participants were painted black, wore a head dress made of the skin of a buffalo head which was cut after the fashion of a cap. it was adjusted in a manner to resemble a live animal, and extending from this head dress, over the half-naked and blackened bodies of the dancers, depended a long strip of hide from the back of the buffalo which hung down like a tail. the omawhaws believed that the great wahconda appeared sometimes in the shape of a bison bull and they, like other tribes, cherished legends of a fabulous age when animals spoke together, did battle and possessed intelligence equal to that of men. the following myth of the bison bull, the ant and the tortoise, related by james, is an interesting example of these fables: once upon a time an ant, a tortoise and a buffalo bull formed themselves into a war party and determined to attack the village of an enemy in the vicinity. they decided in council that the tortoise being sluggish and slow of movement, should start in advance and the ant and bull should time their departure so as to overtake him on the way. this plan was adopted and the awkward tortoise floundered forth on his hostile mission alone. in due time the bison bull took the ant upon his back, lest on account of his minuteness he be lost, and together they set out for the enemy's country. at length they came to a treacherous bog where they found the poor tortoise struggling vainly to free himself. this caused the ant and the bull much merriment as they crossed safely to solid ground. but the tortoise, scorning to ask the aid of his brothers in war, replied cheerfully to their taunts and insisted that he would meet them at the hostile village. the ant and the bison advanced with noise and bravado and the watchful enemy perceiving them, issued from their lodges and wounded both, driving them to headlong, inglorious retreat. finally the tortoise with sore travail, reached his destination to find his companions flown, and because he could not flee also, he fell into the hands of the foe--a prisoner. these cruel people decided to put him to death at once. they threatened him with slow roasting in red coals of fire, with boiling and many awful tortures, but the astute tortoise expressed his willingness to suffer any of these penalties. therefore the enemy consulted together again and held over his head the fate of drowning. against this he protested with such frenzied vehemence that his captors immediately executed the sentence, and bearing him to a deep part of the river which flowed through their country, flung him in. thus restored to his native element he plunged to the bottom of the stream, then arose to the surface to see his enemies gaping from the bank in expectation of his agony. he grabbed several of them, dragged them down and killed them, and appeared once more triumphantly displaying their scalps to the bewildered multitude of thwarted warriors who were helpless to avenge their brethren. the tortoise, satisfied with his achievement, returned to his home where he found the ant and the bull prone upon the floor of the lodge, wounded, humbled and fordone. * * * * * finally, the minitarees and other tribes had a curious legend of their origin. they believed that their forefathers once dwelt in dark, subterranean caverns, beyond a great, swift-running river. two youths disappeared from amongst them and after a short absence returned to proclaim that they had found a land lighted by an orb which warmed the earth to fecundity, where deep waters shimmered crystal white and countless herds of bison covered grass and flower-decked plains. so the youths led the people up out of the primal darkness into the pleasant valleys where they dwelt evermore. and as the bison were celebrated in this child-like tradition of the beginning, so likewise, did they figure in the primitive conception of the hereafter. that region of summer where the good indian should find repose, was pictured as an ideal country, fair with verdure and rich with herds of buffalo which the good spirits would go seeking through the golden vistas of eternity. iv when the first explorers penetrated the fastnesses of the new world the buffalo was lord of the continent. coronado on his march northward from mexico saw hordes of these unknown beasts which a chronicler of described naïvely as "crooked-backed oxen." the mighty herds roamed through the blue grass of kentucky, the carolinas, that region now the state of new york, and probably every favorable portion of north america. very gradually they were pushed farther and farther westward to the vicinity of the rocky mountains, which was for many years their refuge and retreat. in the official expedition sent by john c. calhoun to examine the rocky mountains, their tribes, animal and plant life, found the buffalo reduced in numbers, though in the wild stretches of country lying south along the arkansas, they were seen in countless hordes. the report says: "during these few days past, the bisons have occurred in vast and almost continuous herds, and in such infinite numbers as seemed to indicate the great bend of the arkansas as their chief and general rendezvous." the account continues to narrate how the scent of the white men borne to the farthest animal, a distance of two miles, started the multitudes speeding away, and yet so limitless were those millions, that, day after day, they flowed past like a sea until their presence became as a part of the landscape, and by night their thunderous bellow echoed through the savage wastes. in bradbury's _travels_ there is a description of a fight among buffalo bulls. he says: "on my return to the boats, as the wind had in some degree abated, we proceeded and had not gone more than five or six miles before we were surprised by a dull, hollow sound, the cause of which we could not possibly imagine. it seemed to be one or two miles below us; but as our descent was rapid, it increased every moment in loudness, and before we had proceeded far, our ears were able to catch some distinct tones, like the bellowing of buffaloes. when opposite to the place from whence it proceeded, we landed, ascended the bank, and entered a small skirting of trees and shrubs, that separated the river from an extensive plain. on gaining a view of it, such a scene opened to us as will fall to the lot of few travellers to witness. this plain was literally covered with buffaloes as far as we could see, and we soon discovered that it consisted in part of females. the males were fighting in every direction, with a fury which i have never seen paralleled, each having singled out his antagonist. we judged that the number must have amounted to some thousands, and that there were many hundreds of these battles going on at the same time, some not eighty yards from us. the noise occasioned by the trampling and bellowing was far beyond description." at that time the bison paths were like well trodden roadways and served as such to the explorers. these paths always led by most direct routes to fresh water, and therefore were of the greatest assistance to travellers unacquainted with the undiscovered lands. such were the legions of the plains even when the east had refused them shelter. and although it was roughly estimated that the tribes dwelling along the missouri river killed yearly , for food, saddle covers and clothes, this did not appreciably lessen their hosts. not until the white tide flowed faster and faster over the wilds was the doom of the buffalo sounded, together with that of the forests which sheltered them, and the indians who were at once their foes and their friends. then the destruction was swift beyond belief. the royal game which coronado saw in , which lewis and clark in their adventurous journey into the unknown west encountered at every turn, was nearly gone. they endured in such numbers that as late as father de smet said: "the scene realized in some sort the ancient tradition of the holy scriptures, speaking of the vast pastoral countries of the orient, and of the cattle upon a thousand hills." it was inconceivable to the indians that civilization should wreak such utter desolation. they could not comprehend the passing of the mighty herds any more than they could appreciate the destruction of the forests or their own decline. they did not know that the railroad which traversed the highway of the plains between the east and west ran through miles upon miles of country whitened with buffalo bones; that veritably the prairies which had been the pasture of the herds were now become their graveyard--a graveyard of unburied dead. they did not know that armies of workingmen and settlers had drawn upon the buffalo for food and warmth, that the beasts had been harried and hunted north, south, east and west, sometimes legitimately, but too often in cruel, wanton sport, until, at last, it became an evident fact that they were visibly nearing their end. a kind of stampede possessed the terrified beasts. their old haunts were usurped. where the fostering forests had given them shelter, towns arose. baffled and dismayed they fled, hither and thither, only to crash headlong within the range of the huntsman's gun. so they charged at random, ever pressed closer and closer to bay by the encroaching life which was their death. about the year of it was known that the last thinned and vagrant remnant of the buffalo was virtually gone. maddened into desperate bewilderment they had done an unprecedented thing. instead of going northward as their habit had been since man first observed their kind, they turned and fled south. this was their end. the half-breeds of the red river, the sioux of the missouri, and most relentless of all, the white hide-hunter, beset the wild, retreating band. their greed spared neither beast that tottered with age, nor calf fresh from its mother's womb. all fell prey to the mastering greed of the lords of the great free land. upon the shores of the cannonball river, so-called from the heaps of round stones upon its banks, on the edge of the dakotas, the buffalo made their last stand. driven to bay they stood and fell together, the latest offspring of a vanished race. but the poor indian, he who had shared the freedom of the continent with his horned friend, could not yet understand that the buffalo were gone--gone as the sheltering woods were going, even as he, himself, must go. evolution is cruel as well as beneficent and there is a pang for each poor, lesser existence crushed out in the race, as there is joy in the survival of the strongest and best. and those who are superior to-day must themselves be superseded to-morrow and fall into the abysmal yesterday, mere stepping stones toward the infinite. the indians, knowing none of these things, became troubled and perplexed. in vain they sought the herds on their old-time hunting grounds, but only stark, bleached bones were there and they went back to their lodges, hungry, gaunt and wan. in years past the buffalo had disappeared at intervals to unknown pastures, then returned multiplied and reinforced. was it not possible that they had gone upon such a journey, perhaps to the ultimate north where the old man dwelt, to seek refuge in a mighty polar cave under his benign protection? so from their meager stores the indians offered sacrifices of horses and other of their most valued possessions, to the old man, that he might drive the buffalo back to the deserted pasture lands near the rocky mountains. "they are tired," said long tree of the sioux, "with much running. they have had no rest. they have been chased and chased over the rocks and gravel of the prairie and their feet are sore, worn down, like those of a tender-footed horse. when the buffalo have rested and their feet have grown out again, they will return to us in larger numbers, stronger, with better robes and fatter than they ever were." still the years passed and the buffalo came not, and some there were who said that if the old man, the great spirit of the north, loved his children of the forest, he would not have left them to suffer so painfully and long. then out of dumb despair came sudden hope; out of the bitter silence sounded a voice and a prophet came "preaching through the wilderness," even as john the baptist had come, centuries ago, bringing a message of peace and the promise of salvation. this prophet was _wovoka_, founder of the ghost dance religion, who arose in "the land of the setting sun," in the shadow of the sierras. he told the wrapt people that when "the sun died" he went to heaven where he saw god, the spirits of those long dead and vast herds of revivified buffalo feeding in the pastures of the skies. heaven would not be perfect to the indian without the buffalo, and the red man, less jealous than ourselves of his paradise, was willing to share the bliss of immortality with his old-time companions of the plains. the tenets of the new creed were gentle, teaching peace, truth, honesty and universal brotherhood. under the thrall of the ghost dance, devotees dropped to earth insensible and had visions of the spirit-world. wovoka prophesied that at the appointed time the ghostly legions, led by a spirit captain, would descend from heaven, striking down the unbelievers and restoring to the indians and the buffalo dominion over the earth. with the awful desperation of a last hope the indians leaped high into the night surrounding them to grasp at a star--a star, alas! which proved to be but a will-o'-the-wisp set over a quagmire of death. nothing seemed impossible to their excited fancy. had not the white race killed the christ upon a cross of torture, and would he not come to earth again as an indian, to gather his children together in everlasting happiness when the grass should be green with the spring? meantime they must dance, dance through the weary days and nights in order that the prophesy might be fulfilled. an alarm spread through the country. what meant this frenzied dance of circling, whirling mystics who strained with wide eyes to look beyond the skies? an order came that the dance must cease. this decree was but human, the one which bade them dance they believed to be divine. and dance they did, wildly, madly, to the sharp time of musketry until the hurrying feet were stilled and the dancers lay cold and stark on the field of wounded knee. in all the annals of the indians' tragic tale there is nothing more pitiful than this dance of death. the poor victims, together with the last hope of a despairing race, were buried at wounded knee, and the white man wrought his will. slowly and steadily the woods were laid low, inevitably the indians retreated farther and farther back, closer pressed, routed as the buffalo had been. all hope of the return of the beloved herds left their hearts and they knew at last that they would find them only in those elysian fields of perpetual summertime--the happy hunting ground. v the sun set red behind the mountains. the shadows stole down, gray and mystical as ghosts. from afar the coyote's dolorous cry plained through the silence and the owl hooted dismally as he awakened at the approach of night. there in the pallid dusk lay the bleached skull and the arrowhead of black obsidian, mute reliques of the past. the royal buffalo is no more, the hunter that hurled the bolt is gone. we may find the inferior offspring of the one in city parks, of the other on ever-lessening reservations, but degeneracy is more pitiful than death, and the old, free herds that ranged the continent are past as the fleet-footed, strong-hearted tribes have vanished from the plains. so the story of the two fallen races is told eloquently by this whitened skull on the hillside and the jet-black arrow head flung by the stilled red hand. _lake mcdonald & its trail_ chapter vii lake mcdonald and its trail in the northern part of montana, towards the canadian border, the main range of the rocky mountains has been rent and carved by glacial action during ages gone by, until the peaks, like tusks, stand separate and distinct in a mighty, serrated line. no one of these reaches so great a height as shasta, rainier or hood, but here the huge, horned spine rises almost sheer from the sweep of tawny prairie, and not one, but hosts of pinnacles, sharp as lances, stand clean cut against the sky. approaching the range from the east, in the saffron glow of sunset, one might fancy it was wrought of amethyst, so intense and pure is the colour, so clear and true the minutest detail of the grandly sculptured outline. within the ice-locked barriers of those heights live glaciers still grind their passages through channels of stone; down in shadowy ravines, voiceful with silver-tongued falls, lie fair lakes in the embrace of over-shadowing altitudes. the largest of these lakes, mcdonald, is the heart of a vast and marvelous country, the center of many trails. the road to lake mcdonald winds along the shores of the flathead river for half a mile or more, skirting the swift current now churned into white foam by rapids, then calm and transparent, revealing the least stone and tress of moss in its bed, in shades of limpid emerald. leaving the river, the way lies through dense forests of pine and tamarack, cedar and spruce, and so closely do the spreading boughs interlace that the sun falls but slightly, in quivering, pale gold splashes upon the pads of moss and the fragrant damp mold which bursts into brilliant orange-coloured fungus and viciously bright toadstools. each fallen log, each boulder wrested from its place and hurled down by glacier or avalanche, is dressed in a faery garb of moss and tiny, fragrant shell-pink bells called twinflowers, because two blossoms, perfect twins, always hang pendent from a single stem as slender as spun glass, and these small bells scent the air with an odour as sweet as heliotrope. within the forest dim with perpetual twilight, one feels the vastness of great spaces, the silence of great solitudes. suddenly there bursts upon one, with all the up-bearing exhilaration of a first sight of the sea, a scene which, once engraved upon the heart, will remain forever. the trees part like a curtain drawn aside and the distance opens magnificently. the intense blue of the cloudless sky arches overhead, the royal waters of the lake flow blue and green with the colours of a peacock's tail or the variegated beauty of an abalone shell; sweeping upward from the shores are tall, timbered hills, so thickly sown with pine that each tree seems but a spear of grass and the whole forest but a lawn, and towering beyond, yet seeming very near in the pure, white light, is a host of peaks silvered with the benediction of the clouds--the deathless snow. the haze that tints their base is of a shade one sometimes finds in violets, in amethysts, in dreams. indeed, these mountains seem to descend from heaven to earth rather than to soar from earth towards heaven, so great is their sublimity. as one floats away on the lake the view changes. new vistas open and close, new peaks appear above and beyond as though their legion would never come to an end. straight ahead two irregular, rugged mountains with roots of stone emplanted in the water, rise like a mighty portal, and between the two, seeming to bridge them, is a ridge called the "garden wall." the detail of the more immediate steeps grows distinct and we see from their naked crests down their timbered sides, deep furrows, the tracks of avalanches which have rushed from the snow fields of winter, uprooting trees and crushing them in the fury of the mad descent. a long, comparatively level stretch, not unlike a gun sight set among the bristling, craggy summits, is the "gunsight pass," the difficult way to the great st. mary's lakes, the blackfeet glacier and the wonderful, remote region on the eastern slope of the range. huge, white patches mark glaciers and snow fields, for it is within these same mountains that the piegan (sperry) and many others lie. and as we drift on and on across the smooth expanse of water, the magic of it steals upon our souls. for there is about the lake a charm apart from the beauty of the waters and the glory of the peaks; of spirit rather than substance; of soul-essence rather than earthly form. that mysterious force, whatever it may be, rising from the water and the forest solitudes and descending from the mountain tops, flows into our veins with the amber sunshine and we feel the sweeping uplift of altitudes heaven-aspiring that take us back through infinite ages to the source which is nature and god. [illustration: glacier camp] the good old captain of the little craft weaves fact and fancy into wonderful yarns as he steers his launch straight for the long, purplish-green point which is the landing. to him no ocean greyhound is more seaworthy than his boat, and he likes to tell of timid tender-feet entreating him to keep to shore when the lake was tumultuous with storm, and how he, spurning danger, guided them all safely through the trough of the waves. he keeps a little log wherein each passenger is asked to write his name. the poor old man has a maimed hand, his eyes are filmy with years and his gums are all but toothless, but it would seem that nature has compensated him for his afflictions by concentrating his whole strength in his tongue. he knows each landmark well, and gravely points out to the credulous traveller, the highest mountain in the world; calls attention to the , fathoms of lake depth whence no drowned man ever rises, and other marvels, each the greatest of its kind upon the circumference of the globe. there came a day soon after when the lake chafed beneath a lashing gale and the little craft and her gallant captain were dumped ingloriously upon the beach. but accidents happen to the best of seamen, and the launch, after a furious expulsion of steam, and much hiccoughing, was dragged once more into her place upon the wave. although there is evidence that lake mcdonald was long ago frequented by some of the indian tribes, it was not known to the world until comparatively recent times. there are two stories of its discovery and naming, both of which have a foundation of truth. the first is that sir john mcdonald, the famous canadian politician, riding across the border with a party, cut a trail through the pathless woods and happening to penetrate to the lake, blazed his name upon a tree to commemorate the event, thus linking his fame with the newly found natural treasure. the old trail remains--probably the virgin way into the wilderness. the second story--which is from the lips of duncan mcdonald, son of angus, runs thus: he and a little band of selish were crossing from their own land of the jocko into the country of the blackfeet which lies east of the main range, to recover some ponies stolen by the latter tribe, when they came in view of this lake hitherto unknown to them. duncan mcdonald, who was the leader or _partizan_, as the french-canadians say, blazed the name "mcdonald" upon some pines along the shore. it matters little who was actually the first to set foot on these unpeopled banks, but it is a strange coincidence that the two pathfinders should have borne the same name. the purplish-green point draws nearer, log cabins appear among the trees, each one decorated with a bear skin hung near its door. this is a fur trading center as well as a resort of nature lovers, and upon the broad porch of the club house is a heap of pelts of silver tip, black and brown bear, mountain lion and lynx, and from the walls within, bighorn sheep and mountain goats' heads peer down. the trappers themselves, quaint, old hunters of the wilderness, come out of their retreats to trade. but even now their day is passing. with the advent of outside life these characters, scarcely less shy than the game they seek, move farther back into uncontaminated solitudes. they are the last, lingering fragment of that old west which is so nearly a sad, sweet memory, a loving regret. each hour of the day traces its lapse in light and shadow on the lake, until the sunset flowing in a copper tide, draws aureoles of golden cloud over the white-browed peaks, transforming their huge and rugged bulk into luminous light-giving bodies of faded roses and lavender. as the evening wanes the mountains burn out in ashes of roses, still lightened here and there upon their ultimate heights, with a glow as faint as the memory of a dead love, and the living halo of the clouds deepens into coral crowns. then the lake becomes a vast opal, kindling with fires that flash and die in the growing dusk. the dark forests that cloak the lake shores, are threaded with trails each leading to some treasure store of nature far off in the secrecy of the hills. one of great beauty starts from the head of the lake, beneath the shadow of the mountains, and overhangs the boisterous, rock-rent torrent of mcdonald's creek. the narrow way is padded thick with pine needles ground into sweet, brown powder which deadens the least intrusive footfall, as though the whole wood were harkening to the singing of the waters through the silence of the trees. along the trail are mosses of multitudinous kinds. the delicate star moss unfolds its feathery points of green; a strange variety with thick, mottled leaves grows like a full blown rose around decayed trees, and a small, pale, gray-green trumpet-shaped moss rears hosts of elfin horns. only a skilled botanist could classify these rich carpets which nature has spread over the dead royalty of her forests, so that even in their death there is resurrection; even in their decay, new life. bluebells and twinflowers, those delicate faery-bells of pink, sweet grass, pigeon berry and many another blossom beautiful in its strangeness, weave their colour into gay patterns on the green; blend their fragrance with the balsam sweetness of the woods. and all around, the stately pine trees grow bearded with long, gray moss which marks their antiquity and foretells their doom. the stream below, flowing between steep banks that it has cut during centuries of ceaseless washing, raises its song to a roar as it flings its swift current over a parapet of stone in a banner of shimmering, white foam. above, the water breaks in whirling rapids and farther still is another fall. towering in the distance is an exalted peak, the father of this stream, whose snowy gift pours down its perennial blessing into the clear tide of the lake. so it is, the streams that issue from the glaciers yield their pure tribute to lake mcdonald, and all the trails, uncoiling their devious and dizzy ways over the mountains, bring us back to these shores. and every time that we return it breaks upon us with renewed freshness of mood. it may be ridden by a wind that lashes it into running waves of purple and wine colour, marked with the white foot-prints of the gale. it may be still as the first thought of love, holding in its broad mirror the bending sky and mountains peering into its secrecy. it may be ephemeral with mist that dims the mountains into pale, shadowy ghosts; or it may be like a voluptuous beauty glittering with jewels and clad in robes of silken sheen; again, it may be quakerish in its pallid monotone. the changing cycle of the day and night each brings its different gift of beauty, and likewise, the passing seasons deck the mountains and the waters with a glory all their own, until, with martial hosts of cloud, with banners streaming silver and emblazoned with lightning-gleam, winter spreads its garment of white upon the mystery of the wild. perhaps the lake is never so exquisite as then. at least it seems so, as with closed eyes and passive soul, a memory undimmed arises out of the past. it is night in the dead of winter. the silence of deep sleep and isolation is on the world. the snow has fallen like a flock of white birds and the air has cleared to the degree of scintillating brilliance that mocks the diamond's flash. the full moon is beneath a cloud and its veiled light, filtering through the vapor, shows dimly the shadowy waters and the wan peaks fainting far away. then the cloud passes. the moon leaps into the heavens and a flood of white light illumines the water, the sky and the mountains, transforming the whole into a faery scene of arctic splendour. it is as though the last breath of life had vanished in that chaste frozen atmosphere, and the earth had become a palace of dreams. and though that palace of dreams vanishes as dreams must, like a melting snow crystal or a frosty sigh upon the night, there remains in our hearts a yearning which shall bear us back to the reality of beauty that rewards each pilgrim who returns to the deathless glory of the mountain-married lake. _above the clouds_ chapter viii above the clouds of all the trails in the mcdonald country, there is none more travelled, or more worthy of the toil than that which leads to the piegan glacier. from the moment we stand in expectant readiness in the little clearing behind the log cabins comprising the hotel, a new phase of existence has begun for us. so strange are the place and the conditions that it seems we must have stepped back fifty years or more, into that west whose glamour lives in story and song. strong, tanned, sinewy guides who wear cartridge belts and six-shooters, load grunting pack-horses and "throw" diamond-hitches in businesslike silence. when at last all is ready, the riders mount the indian ponies or "cayuses"--allie sand, the yellow cow pony; babe, the slumbrous; bunchie, but recently subdued, and baldy, nicknamed "foolish" because of the musical pack of kettles, camp stoves and sundries that jingle and jump up and down upon his back, lightening the way with merriment for those who follow. with a quickened beating of the heart, the good cheer and godspeed of friendly voices ringing in our ears, we take leave of the last haunt of civilization and strike out into the virgin solitude of heaven-aspiring peaks. as the feeling of remoteness smites the spirit when we pass beyond the railway station of belton and follow in creaking wagons the shadow-curtained road to the lake, so now it returns with stronger impulse, calling to life new emotions begotten of the wild. the world-rush calms into the great stillness of untrodden places, the world-voices sigh out in the murmuring breeze, the petty traffic of the cities is forgotten in the soulful silence of the trees. and out of this newly found affinity with the nature forces, the love of adventure thrills into being, together with the fine scorn of danger and the resolve to do that which we set out to do no matter what the cost or the peril. here the "white feather" is the greatest badge of dishonour, and he who fails through cowardice to win his goal is a man among men no more. this spirit is the faint, far-off echo of the hero-bearing days of the early west. our guide is a stocky, little man of soldierly bearing, clad in khaki suit and cow-boy hat, whom his fellows call "scotty." he is brown with exposure, smoothly shaven, and his keen, blue eyes are slightly contracted at the corners from the strain of peering through vast distances--a characteristic of men who follow woodcraft and hunting. he rides ahead silently but for a rebuke to the slumbrous "babe," such as, "go on, you lazy coyote," or a familiar, half-caressing remark to bunchie, the ex-outlaw, who is his favourite. indeed, he, like most men who have ridden the range, has the habit of talking to the ponies as though they knew and understood. and who can be sure they do not? the forests begin as soon as the bit of clearing is passed, then single file the little cavalcade moves on through huckleberry fields, purplish-black with luscious, ripe berries, where bears come to feed and fatten, where, also, thirsty wayfarers stop to eat the juicy fruit. the pines clasp branches overhead in a lacy, broken roof whose pattern of needle and burr shows in dark traceries against patches of blue sky remote and far beyond. a thick, sweet shadow dappled now and again with splashes of yellow sun tempers the air which presses its cool touch upon our brows. on either hand a dense, even lawn of tender green fern and mist-maiden covers the earth and through the silence sounds the merry clamour of a stream. it ripples gaily along between wooded banks, breaking into little crests of foam upon the rocks, showing through the glassy medium of its waters, every stone and pebble of its speckled bed polished and rounded by ceaseless flowing. the horses splash through the creek and upon the opposite side begins anew the delicate lawn of mist-maiden and fern, so freshly, tenderly green with the pale greenness of things that live away from the sun, so ephemerally exquisite as to embarrass coarse, mortal presence. it is a spot fit for fairies to dance upon; fit for wood-nymphs and white hinds to make merry in; fit for the flute-like melody of pan to awake to dancing echoes as he calls the forest sprites unto high revelry. a forest ranger joins us. he is tramping to the gunsight pass with his axe upon his shoulder and his kit upon his back, to repair the trail to the great st. mary's lakes. the shades of brown and green, the shadow threaded with an occasional strand of gold, are livened by crimson patches of indian paint brush, bluebells, white starry lilies called queen's cups, trembling feathers of coral pink, sun-yellow and white syringa. beneath the overhanging verdure, around and upon the mossy rocks, the ever-present twinflowers open their delicate petals and sweeten the air, and from clumps of coarse grass rise cones of minute white blossoms, the bear-grass, one of the most curious of the mountain flowers. this ranger knows the common names of nearly all the plants, and at every turn new varieties spring up. he stops to gather each kind of bloom until we have a great bouquet--a _potpourri_ of all the floral beauty of the multitudes that people our path. the way is very fair, ministering to the senses; troops of new, forest forms and colours pass before the eye, the mingled sweets of the flowers, the pungent mould and balsam of spruce and pine breathe sensuously into the nostrils, and the fingers of the wind caress and soothe as they pass. through the voiceful silence, sounds that are on the borderland between fancy and reality, thrill for a moment, then are lost in the grand chorus of trees and rushing rivers. a stream of volume and velocity flowing through a deep gorge falls twice in its downward rush. these two falls, the wynona and minneopa, flash great, white plumes among steeps of green forest. with sharp descent and stubborn climb, the trail, that seems the merest thread, untangles its skein and leads, at length, into a small basin partly enclosed within sheer, naked rock-walls, whence three delicate silver streams trickle down and join the creek that waters a little park. beyond, the peaks loom up masterfully, sheathing their icy lances in the clouds. high over the lip of the mighty rock-wall, rising like the giant counterpart of an ancient battlement, lies the glacier. up that precipitous, overhanging parapet we must make our way, but where the footing or how the ascent is to be won, fancy cannot fathom, for it would seem no living thing save a mountain goat, a bighorn sheep or an eagle could scale this stronghold of nature. across the basin, where there is a gentler slope, the mountain side is dotted with groups of tall, spire-like pines. the level meadow is grassy and shaded with small spruce of the size of christmas trees. and in this peaceful spot, girt with grim, challenging steeps, the tinkle of the stream sounds pastorally sweet, while the more distant and powerful roar of the three tumbling streams chants a solemn undertone to the merry lilt. here the camp is made. a fire crackles gaily and our tents are pitched beneath the trees. suddenly a shadow falls,--dimly, almost imperceptibly. the sun has gone. it is only six o'clock in mid-summer, but so lofty are the barrier-heights that even now we are in a world of shade,--shade of a strangely luminous kind, hinting of ruddy lights that are obscured but not quenched. through the quiet, echo the whistle of the marmot, the metallic whirr of contentious squirrels going off like small alarm clocks, and the mellow, drowsy note of bells ringing to the rhythmic crop of browsing ponies. so the long beautiful twilight settles over the mountains until the sounds are stilled save the tinkling bells and the water-voices singing their ceaseless song. the forest sleeps. long, mystical fancy-bearing moments and tens of moments pass, and something of awe closes down with the gloaming. then through the dim, monkish grey shadow pulses a red-gold stream of light that runs in long, uneven streamers across the face of the grim, dark walls, transfiguring them into radiant shapes of living golden-rose. in that effulgence of glory, lost peaks gleam for a second out of the dusk and vanish into nothingness again, snowy diadems flash into being and fade like a dream. the life-blood of the day ebbs and flows, sending out long, slender fingers to trace its fleeting message on the rocks, then with a deepening, crimson glow it flickers and is fled. night settles fast and the flare of the camp fire, shedding its spark-spangles in brilliant showers, reclaims one little spot from the devouring blackness. it is a magical thing--this campfire, and the living ring around it is an enchanted circle. perhaps its warmth penetrates even to the heart, or perhaps the bond of human fellowship asserts itself more strongly when only the precarious, flamboyant fire-light, leaping and waning, throwing forth a rain of sparks, or searing grey with sudden decline, separates our little group from utter desolation. whatever the charm may be, it falls upon us all, and with eyes fixed on the ember-pictures or raised to the starry skies, we listen to tales of the long ago and of a present as unfamiliar as the past. the reserve of our guide is quite broken and he tells in a low, reminiscent voice, of wonder-spots in the range,--for he knows its every peak and gorge,--of the animals that dwell in its solitary recesses and of how the piegan glacier got its name. the piegan indians are a branch of the blackfeet tribe, and in the early days they were almost as noted horse raiders as the absarokes who flourished near the three tetons, in the country of the yellowstone. back and forth across the passes they came and went in their nefarious traffic, secure from pursuit among the horns of these lonely heights. the vicinity of the eternal ice-fields, probably this little basin itself, sheltered the shadowy bands, and thus the glacier became known by their name. still, you may look in vain on the maps for piegan glacier; you will find it called sperry instead. the old name was discarded for that of a professor who spent some weeks exploring its crevasses and under whose supervision a corps of college students spent a part of one summer's vacation, building the glacier trail. yet there are those who love the old names as they love the traditions for which they stand, and to them the glacier will forever bear the time-honoured title of these indians who have long since disappeared from its solitudes. as the hours pass we draw from our guide and story-teller something of himself. little by little, in fragmentary allusions and always incidentally, during that even-tide and the days following, we learn thus much of his life. he was born in those troublous days of indian fighting on the frontier, shortly after his father, an army officer, was ordered out on campaign against the sioux. when he was but a few weeks old word came to his mother that her husband had been killed, and she, sick and heart-broken, died, leaving besides this infant one other boy. the two children were left to the care of the officers at fort kehoe, but they were separated while both were so young that they did not realize the parting nor remember each other. our guide became the ward of a lieutenant who had been a friend of his father. he played among the soldiers and indian scouts at the fort until he came to the age when he felt the desire to learn, then he went east to school, afterwards to college, always returning in the summer to ride the range or to lose himself in the mountains. and when the college days were done that old cry of the west, that old craving for the life that knows no restraint nor hindering bonds, beckoned him back inevitably as fate. again and again he had gone forth on the world's highway, once to serve in cuba in the war with spain, where in a yellow-fever hospital he met for the first time his older brother, who even then was dying of the pestilence, but always he returned to the freedom of the wilderness. he is a type in himself, who belongs to the time of lewis and clark, rather than to this century--a man who lives too late. and there is about him, for all his carefree indifference to the world, something of indefinable pathos. he is quite alone--he has no kinsfolk and few friends. he is a man without a home but the forests, who has renounced human companionship for the solitudes, without a love but the mountains, to whom the greatest sorrow would be the knowledge that he might never look upon them again. * * * * * a cloud, heavy with rain, drifts across the sky, and big, cool drops splash with a hissing noise in the fire, upon our upturned faces, upon the warm, flower-sown earth which exhales, like incense, the odours of sun-heated soil and summer shower. the bright flames deepen to a blood-red glow and ashes gather like hoar frost on the cooling logs and boughs. the circle around the fire disperses to seek the narcotic gift breathed by the pines, sung as a lullaby by the voices of trees and streams. the start for the glacier is made while the day is young. pack horses and camp are left behind and with the guide leading the way, the tortuous climb is begun. sheer as those rock-walls seemed to be, there is a footing for the careful ponies, as from narrow ledge to ledge they turn and zigzag up the mountain-face; and naked as those steeps appeared, they are animated with frisking conies and marmots, and hidden among the stones are rarely exquisite flowers. here the mountain lilies grow, blossoms with brown eyes in each of their three white petals, covered with soft, silvery fur which makes them seem of the texture of velvet. these lilies are somewhat similar to the mariposa lily of the california sierras. the ground-cedar, a minute and delicate plant; strange varieties of fern and moss, and everchanging, unfamiliar flowers appear as we ascend, until, wheeling dizzily hundreds of feet above the basin upon the slight and slippery trail, with things beneath dwarfed by distance into a pigmy world and things above looming formidably, the increasing altitude shears the rocks and leaves them bare and grim. the air grows sharp with icy chill, great billowy, low-trailing clouds drag over the mountain-tops, down the ravines and float in detached banners in free spaces below. broad stretches of snow lie ahead. the painstaking ponies pick their way across them, for it is fifteen feet down to solid ground. sluggish streams creep between banks crusty with old ice, and pretty falls, broken into lacy meshes of foam, cascade down a parapet of rock and baptize us as we pass. in this spot the stone wall has been worn into a grotto where the water plays as in a fountain. from every little fissure ferns dart their long green lances and feathery fronds, and the rocks are grown over with moss. from our eyrie we look down into a small lake called peary's, sunk within dark and desolate cliffs, shattered and ground down into fantastic forms. it is but partly thawed and its cold, blue-green centre is enclosed in opaque, greenish-white ice and drifts of snow. indeed snow is everywhere in broken drifts--in the furrowed mountain-combs and along the level in smooth white stretches. close to the margin of the ice-sealed shores is a grotesque, sapless, scrubby vegetation, as strange in its way as the brilliant-hued waters or the rocks that impress us with huge antiquity and elemental crudeness, as though we stood face to face with earth's infancy, close in the wake of ebbing, primeval seas. but for all the savage roughness and arctic chill this is a scene to cherish and remember--the blue cup of heaven, flecked with a thistledown of clouds, the black menace of shivered rock-crests, the dazzle of the snow and the darkly beautiful waters that are neither blue nor green yet seemingly of both colours, held fast in the circle of cold, pale ice. above this lake, down an overhanging wall, are more little falls, indeed the whole country is interlaced with them as though the life-blood of the mountains flowed in silver veins upon the surface. within the hollow over the stone barrier lies nansen's lake, even more frigid in its ice-sheath, more palely green in the little patch of water which the sun has laid bare. and although the mountains soar tremendously, yet ever and anon the course lies upward over the frowning brows, over the very crowns of the range, until the high peaks, stripped of atmospheric illusion, stand stark and naked to the gaze. there is in this sudden intimacy with the fellows of the clouds, the veiled lords of upper air, an awe which we feel before powers incomprehensible. at last the trail ceases; overhead are cliffs no horse could climb. the guide ties the ponies, and with a stout rope clambers ahead up a smoothly sculptured parapet. we follow him and find ourselves on a bleak waste which leads to a small basin, strewn with great boulders and lesser rocks, dark and of the colour of slate. growing upon these rock-heaps are masses of flowering moss starred by tiny pink buds and blossoms, or white spattered with the crimson of heart's blood. and now the guide begins to whistle--a long, plaintive note which is answered presently by a similar sound and a shrill, infantile treble, cheeping, cheeping among the stones. then from the security of her home a ptarmigan, or arctic grouse, hops into the open with her family of five chicks jumping on her patient back, and tumbling, the merest puff-balls, at her feet. she chirps softly to them, proud and dignified in her maternity, ever watchful of her pretty little brood. she is dressed in quakerish summer-garb of mottled grey, the feathers covering her to the utmost extremity of her toes. once the winter snows descend, these birds become as white as the frigid regions which they inhabit. ordinarily they are very wild, but this little mother, knowing only friendliness from human visitors, comes forth trustfully with her beloved young, suffers them to be handled and caressed and she, herself, with wings dropped in the semblance of a pretty courtesy, jumps into the hand of the guide, and from that perch feeds daintily on the pink and white buds of the moss, as fragilely lovely as the snowflakes to which they appear strangely akin. indeed, the bird, the flowers and the environing snow all seem more of the cloud-land than of the earth. but there is a sequel to the story of this little grouse, which is, unhappily, a tragedy. not long after she greeted us, giving an air of friendliness to the forbidding, wind-swept rocks, a tyrolese came hunting through the mountains. he made his camp near the home of the ptarmigan and her little ones, and one day when the guide came calling to her there was no answer but the empty whistling of the wind. he called again and again; he searched among the crags and the rock-heaps, then he came upon the ashes of a camp-fire and the mottled feathers and silken down of the ptarmigan and her chicks. she had been betrayed at last by her trustfulness, and she and her brood had been cruelly sacrificed to the blood-lust and appetite of that enemy of poor dumb things--the man with the gun. * * * * * from the mossy basin of the ptarmigan we climb with ropes up a broken escarpment and there upon the very lip of the glacier are blossoms so unearthly in form and colour as to seem the merest ghosts of flowers. one is a dark, ocean-blue bell and another an ashen-green thing furred over with a beard as soft and colorless as a moth's wing. from this eminence a stormy, wind-tossed little lake, the gem, flashes angrily-bright waters beneath snow splashed, wonderfully stratified peaks, and there, through a gateway in the mountains, spreading out in a vast plateau of white, lies the glacier, undulating in frozen waves like a polar sea. even under its shroud of snow one can trace its course by the seams and wrinkles of a congealed current. it is flanked on all sides by the savage, beetling peaks marshalled in endless ranks like the spears and unsheathed lances of war-gods in their domain midway between earth and heaven. out across the death-white pallor of snow, in the death-chill of the ice-fields, we strike out slowly, cautiously, for the surface of the ice, now hidden by snow, is cleft by crevasses even to the mountain's core, and a misstep, a fall into their depths would be doom. far away over the white stretches, a gaunt, spectral coyote watches our painful progress. on and on we go by a tusk-like peak, the "little matterhorn," and ever on to a point where the giant panorama unfolds its mountain-multitudes, its barricaded lakes, and the echo breaks into a chorus that peals out as though each separate crest were possessed of a brazen tongue. these grimly naked heights, split and rent with elemental shocks and the resistance to huge forces, are the cradle of the lightning and the thunder-bolt, the citadel whence the storm-hosts ride down on blackwinged clouds upon the world. and even now phantom troops of clouds come gliding up out of the moist laps of the valleys, out of lakes and streams, passing in shifting wraith-shapes over the mountains, spreading their filmy scarfs across the sky until the livid expanse of snow, showing colourlessly in the grey light, brings to one a vivid picture of the ice-age, of a frozen world and the cold, pitiless illumination of a burnt-out sun. [illustration: gem lake] fine, pricking points of snow cut with the sharpness of needle-thrusts; the wind whips through the bleak gaps in the range and over the glacier, gathering cold and speed as it comes. a chilling numbness deadens our feet and hands. so, wind-buffeted, storm-driven, with the trumpeting gale in our ears, we turn back from the kingdom where winter is unbroken, and descend through alternate shadow and sun into the blooming beauty, into the golden summer that swims in the world below, whence snow and cold are only hinted of in a white-breasted, mountain-kissing cloud. _the little saint mary's_ chapter ix the little saint mary's perhaps the most sublime sweep of view within the entire range is gained from the summit of mount lincoln. to accomplish this ascent it is necessary to leave the tortuous "switch-back" trail in full view of gunsight pass and strike out over a trackless mass of shattered rock, upward toward the peak. the way is steep and difficult, the footing slippery and insecure. the muscles strain to quivering tension, the breath comes in gusty sighs and still the mighty heap of dull rose and green rock rears its jagged crest against the throbbing sky. but even if the climb were tenfold longer and the goal tenfold harder to win, it would be a faint-hearted seeker after the beautiful who would hesitate to make the sacrifice of toil for the magnificent reward that awaits him. the rugged pedestal of stone that crowns the peak, drops almost precipitately three thousand six hundred feet, and directly below, in a gorge formed by this and a second chain of lofty mountains, lie two jade-green lakes, the little saint mary's, joined by a slender, far-leaping waterfall. so immense is the distance, that this fall, spanning the seventeen hundred feet between the upper and lower lakes, does not break the brooding quiet with the whisper of an echo. the slim, white column parts upon the rocks into a diamond shape, and when, happily, the sunshine catches in its spray, it becomes a tangle of rainbows. but now, it unfolds its silver scarf silently, colourlessly as a ghost, and the green lake, so far below, receives the pouring tide with never a ripple to mar its smooth surface. the shadow gathers in the gorge and along the mountains, the pines are darkly green and in sharp contrast, the unmelted snow fields lie pale and gray-white to the very rim of the lakes forming a setting as of old silver. after the first shock of that sublimity has left the senses free of its thrall, a vast panorama unfolds, dominated by the majesty of mountain-lords flanked and crowded by range upon range of others, rising in lessening undulations to the horizon's rim, as though a sea whose giant billows strove to smite the sky in the throes of an awful storm, were suddenly transformed to stone. in the crushing might of these great spaces, peering over the brink of the mountain top into the bosom of the smooth, still lakes as coldly beautiful as an emerald's heart, that half-mad idea of self-annihilation clutches at the mind. perhaps it is the exhilarating leap of the waterfall that tempts one, or perhaps the hypnotic charm of the deep-set, jewel-bright pools, or perhaps some unguessed secret of gravity which impels the tottering atom into the depths of life-absorbing space. it is the same terrible, savage joy, the magnetism of elemental force which we feel as we stand on the brink of the grand cañon of the yellowstone, with the glorious, brave call to death crying from the water voices, while the whisper of life sounds sweetly from the vocal winds of heaven. and even as we gaze, the sun's light dies and the world is ashen pale. suddenly over the distant ranges, storm clouds come trooping in black hosts. a heavy silence falls, broken now and again by the boom of thunder and the frightened cry of shelter-seeking birds. perched upon a point of rock, silhouetted against the sky, a bighorn sheep watches the gathering tempest, unmindful of the muttering thunder and the ominous glow of lightning kindling in the sable-winged array. there is something noble about him as he turns his crest upward to bear the onslaught of the blast. the purple of the mountains overhanging the lake deepens to black--the blue-black of a clear, night sky--and the snow filling the ravines lies passionless and white as death. beneath the driving storm-banners, a luridly vivid light casts its reflection upon the earth in a gilded path, revealing the smallest detail of valley and height before the darkness wraps them in its mantle. the kootenais for one brief instant shine like towers of brass and a pallid mist overhanging an arm of the remote flathead lake becomes a golden fleece, then the garish glare passes and mystery and shadow settle down. violet tongues of lightning dart from the trailing clouds, the martial fifing of the wind makes shrill music through the bleak cairns and empty wastes, and great, splashes of rain fall fragrantly, refreshingly upon the warm ground. but in all the tumult, the cold, jade-green lakes lie unshaken, calm. so truly are they the mountains' brides, held securely in their embrace of stone, that not even the wild riding of the gale nor the shivering thunderbolt disturbs their untroubled depths, while their champions, the peaks, in helmets of pale ice do battle with the elements. the deafening cannonade becomes fainter, the sword-thrust of lightning strikes at other quarry, and the storm, with torn banners dragging low down the mountain sides, like routed hosts in retreat, follow the wake of the thunder, the lightning and the tempest-ridden wind. and as the sun shines forth from the heavens a transformation beams like a blessing from every crag and rock. still wet with the summer rain, they take on strangely beautiful hues of sparkling rose colour, and green like that of the mother ocean, and the naked, glacier-ground escarpments reveal the exquisite illuminations wrought in flowing, multi-colored bands, in subtle shade and wordless rune, of the record book wherein is writ the history of æons. through the dazzle of the sun the sea of mountains re-appears, a flowing tide of purple billows growing more ethereally blue in the distance until they seem but the azure shadow of heaven. and far beneath in the deep, dark gorge, cool with perpetual shade, flanked by mighty mountain walls, are the polished jade-green lakes and the fall, spinning its endless silver skein into the untroubled waters below. _track of the avalanche_ chapter x the track of the avalanche the trail to avalanche basin starts from the shores of lake mcdonald and plunges almost immediately into forests mysterious with primeval grandeur. perhaps their denseness is the reason for the wealth of rank-growing weed and shrub that forms one vast screen beneath the spreading branches of pine, tamarack and kingly cedar trees. whether this is the cause or not, the trail is richer in vegetation than any other that lays open the secrets of the forest's heart. tall, juicy-stalked bear-weed, devil's walking cane, prickly with venomous thorns, slim, graceful stems of wild hollyhock crowned with pale, lavender blossoms, and broad-leafed thimble berry, bearing fragile, crapy-petalled flowers, weave their verdure into a tangled mass. an occasional path crushed down freshly shows where a bear has lately been, for these lavish brakes are a haunt of the three varieties that dwell in the surrounding mountains--the black, the brown and the silver tip, or grizzly. strange sounds come up out of the silence, borne through dim, dark vistas where shy things peep and dry twigs snap under careful, stealthy tread. a woodpecker drums resonantly on the bole of a tree; shrill, elfin music quavers with reedy sweetness from the security of dense thickets. a haunting spell steals over the heart and turns the mind to thoughts of sirens, water sprites, and piping pan, for in spite of generations of culture, somewhat of that ancient worship of the wild is revived in us when we are in the virgin woods. the hypnotic charm of the great silence and solitude possesses us and there comes a feeling as of memory of half-forgotten things lived in a dream,--or was it reality? the inarticulate voices of the past come calling in sylvan melody out of the closed lips of the centuries, re-awakening the life of our forebears and revealing to us a fleeting glimpse of something which we cannot define or understand. in this spell of the wilderness we not only feel the emotion of young world-life and race-childhood, but that of our own more personal childhood when the pursuit of a butterfly or a flower winged our feet and warmed our hearts. it may be the scent of a familiar shrub, the flight of a bird, or even the shimmer of dew that brings us afresh, for a moment, that gaily painted memory which the years may dim but never quite obliterate. the trail is dark with shadow,--the awe of the woods,--roofed with boughs and so still that we seem to hear the breathing of the trees. a sudden turn unfolds a little lake, bright with a living pattern of lily-pads, bursting buds and golden water-lilies. through a rift in the pines the distant mountains appear; then the green tide of branches flows together and there is nothing but silence and shadow and the forest. the woods deepen. low, bushy maples grow among the pines, colorado spruce sheds its silver sheen amidst the more somber foliage, and towering high above the loftiest pines and tamaracks, of magnificent circumference and sweep of limb, are the cedars, the lords of the forest. off to one side of the trail, among the thick-sown trees, is a giant boulder completely covered with moss, a throne fit for pan. the pines around it are of goodly size, yet they sprang and grew, perhaps centuries after that huge stone came hurtling downward in a great avalanche, or was borne from the mountain tops by the slow progress of a glacier. again the forest pageant changes. there are groves of pine stricken with hoary age, bearded like patriarchs with long, pendent streamers of colourless moss; then comes a young growth of pine, fore-doomed to early death which already shows in the bronze of premature decay. it is a beautiful spot, nevertheless, balsam-sweet and strewn with needles that nurture violets of yellow and purple, twin flowers and queen's cups. there is a sound like wind among the trees though not a branch stirs, and presently there bursts into view a sight of wild, exhilarating grandeur. a swift, tumultuous stream rushing down a steep, narrow channel, clean-cut as a sabre stroke, dashes headlong into a rainbow-ridden fall. the volume of water is churned into a passion of swirling foam that flings its light mist heavenward to descend again in rain. ferny, mist-fed, moss-grown banks slope gently to the declivity and over smooth, emerald cushions, lacy leaf and trailing boughs, tiny, crystal drops, glinting prismatic hues, tremble and pass away. the air is very sweet with a new and unfamiliar fragrance, and amidst the moss, half hidden beneath grosser leaf and protruding root, is a flower, the loveliest of all the lovely woodland host. it is a small, snowy blossom of five petals and a golden heart, growing on a slender stem from a cluster of glossy, earth-clinging leaves, and as though to hide its chaste, shy beauty, the modest flower turns its face downward towards the ground. its scent is strong and heavy like that of the magnolia. the guide, who travels the mountains over from the earliest budding to the ultimate passing of the flowers, has never seen this stranger blossom before, and we find it on no other trail. it was unknown, unnamed, so we call it the star of the mountains and leave it blooming in the secrecy of that elfin dell. above the thunder of the fall sounds a slight, shrill bird note and through the clouds of spray darts a little brown bird, dipping almost into the boiling current, rising upward with a graceful swell and a wild, free lilt, perching finally on a tiny point of rock just over the shock and roar of the flood. this strange little winged sprite is a water-ouzel who makes her home and raises her young upon these insecure, spray-drenched walls, with the water-challenge pealing its menace and breathing its chill on her nest. she and her kind haunt the lonely mountain creeks and rivers, seeking some fall or cataract that flings its spray and sings its song to the silent, ice-imprisoned world. once the mating season is over and the young are fledged, each bird takes its solitary flight and becomes a veritable spirit of the woodland streams. the dense forests become broken and sheer cliffs rise to stupendous heights. upon their sharp and slender pinnacles wild goat and bighorn sheep dwell, and in passing we see a goat so far away on those dizzy steeps that he seems the merest patch of white. through this gorge, between the mountains, are deep hewn furrows where year after year, century after century, the burden of ice from the peaks descends in avalanches. in the spring when the first thaw begins, a deafening roar like a cannonade heralds the furious onslaught of ice and snow. at such times the avalanche trail is a dangerous way to travel, and even now a distant booming reminds us that the mountain forces are never idle, that in their serenity there is force, in their mystery there is still the energy of creation. through this narrow passage between overhanging crags, the trail continues until, bearing upward, it suddenly crosses a pretty, milky-hued stream, and thence to a hill-side overlooking a sheet of water opaque and pearly white, in a setting of dark-browed woods. it is avalanche lake. the water is perfectly calm, not a breath of air rustles the slightest leaf, but there is no reflection of throbbing, blue sky, of green woods or purple mountains--it does not thrill to the passion of the summer, flash back azure and gold and picture in its responsive heart the glories of earth and heaven. because of this, it is different from all the other lakes of these mountains and the shell-like whiteness of its surface, pallidly beautiful as a great pearl, has a peculiar beauty none the less striking for its strangeness. the cause of the milkiness of these waters seems at first without satisfactory explanation, but as we examine them more closely we see that they are charged with infinite multitudes of tiny air bubbles, and every stream that feeds the lake, having fallen from enormous heights, is likewise full of infinitesimal air beads. on the other hand, some contend that the water, pouring down from the glacier is white with particles of finely pulverized rock. pushing straight past the lake, through almost impenetrable thickets of whipping willows that fight like live things to guard from vandal footsteps what lies beyond, the journey reaches its climax in avalanche basin. there, in that vast amphitheatre sculptured from the living rock by glaciers, carved and scarred by innumerable avalanches descending through the ages, overhung by the piegan ice fields, six silver streams leap the full height of the great rock walls. the falls seem to melt away before they touch the reality of earth, veritable spirits, born of the snowdrift and the sun; white ghosts spending themselves in spray to reascend into the clouds. [illustration: on the trail to mt. lincoln] a rich growth of green grass, coloured with broad splashes of indian paint brush, covers the sloping floor of the basin. standing on its extreme elevation upon a platform of rock, and thence overlooking the country that lies ahead, the scene is one of uplifting majesty. below, within the sombre circle of the pines, is the lake, palely fair as a white sea shell or a milk opal whose latent colours never quite shine forth from its cloudy depths. farther still, is the gorge, opening like a gateway into the region of the avalanche, and farther still, is heaven's peak, mingling with the cloudless sky. the strata on these mountains laid bare as though but yesterday they were rent asunder, flow in undulating ribbons of colour varying from red-violet to dull, antique gold. but between the quivering sky of summer and the warm, flower-sown earth, is a ghostly tide of purple haze, an amethystine shadow which touches every rock and tree and peak with magical illusion. and through that veil, as through enchantment, each rock, each tree, each peak is transfigured and for a brief hour is given a semblance of the divine. the gorge is filled with flowing purple, the glorified gateway might be heaven's gate, even as the dominant mountain, royal in the thickening blue distance, is heaven's peak. here the sordid world seems to melt away; the sunshine has got into our blood and the transfiguring haze has penetrated even to our hearts. we seem so intimately a part of this mighty, primeval place where the infinity of the past and the infinity of the future are married in one great mystery, that we dare to listen for secrets of the one from the chant of the falls; to lift the veil of circumventing blue and peer into the other. so, standing upon that rock platform, from the reality of the present we speed our souls into the ideality of time's poles. though the song of the water-voices that have sung æons, rings in our ears, and the living letter of the world-book is shown in the mountain's open page, we may not know the portent of either message. and though we gaze with seeking vision through the shadow into the ultimate blue above, the haze draws its protecting garment thicker, closer about the treasure-house of nature, and the sun darts amber lances earthward to blind aspiring eyes. so we pass humbly upon our way, the water-voices singing in our ears, the arch of heaven trailing its garment over earth, still guarding the riddle of the future in its azure keep. _indian summer_ chapter xi indian summer after the summer's ripe maturity has vanished with the first autumnal storm, there steals over the world a magical presence. it has no place in the almanac; it comes with a flooding of amber light and a deepening of amethyst haze; it plays like a passing smile on the face of the universe and like one, vanishes with the stern rebuff of the wintry blast. what jugglery the sun and earth and the four winds of heaven have wrought no mortal man can tell, but certainly by some divine alchemy the deadening blight is turned into gold, and upon the lap of the world there lies, instead of the appointed fall, a changeling season, the faery-child of nature, illusive, fleeting as a flock of yellow butterflies, a shimmer of radiant wings--the indian summer! the whole earth is under the spell of the mad, sweet witchery. the forests are decked in a gay masquerade, too glorious to be real, and our own sober senses are half-mastered by the delusion that the dead summer is come to life again. in open places where the fingers of the sun still warm the moist ground, absent-minded bluebells, strawberries and yellow violets bloom on forgetful that they should already be taking their winter's rest. and it is strange with what pleasure we seize upon these fragile blossom-friends; with what childish joy we caress their pale petals so soon to be laid low. yet in the warm air lurks a hidden sting, the bittersweet of sun and frost; in the very effulgence of life is the foreshadowing of death. already on the heights streamers of cloud gather, leaving in their wake the dazzle of fresh snow. and beneath these low-streaming clouds, slanting earthward in broad, down-pouring rays, is a pure white light upon the mountains. the light on the mountains! what a revelation it is! the windows of heaven are flung open and the celestial beams of paradise illumine god's cathedral domes, the peaks, for a brief space before sky-wrought vestments of snow cover the altar of his sanctuaries. the trails of yesterday are barred. for prudence sake we must keep to the low country or risk the fate of being "snowed in." therefore we choose the kintla road and camas creek, where a large band of moose roams in the forest solitudes, hoping to reach quartz lakes near the canadian line before we shall be driven back by the cold. the pine-sweet air fills us with the very spirit of the woods as we strike out over the gilded trail through forests transfigured into a welter of gorgeous hues, past deep-cleft ravines purple as the heart of a violet, to dim lilac mountains that melt into the blue. what is it that is mystical, spiritual, if you will, in this colour of violet? it is not like the robust, tangible green of the trees, the definite reality of the flowers' multi-coloured petals. we cannot lay our hands upon it any more than we can grasp a sunbeam, for like hope deferred, it lies forever beyond our reach. we see it unwind its royal haze through gorge and forest; we watch it fade into pale lavender on the ultimate pinnacles of the range, but if we follow it what do we find? mere yawning cleft or greenwood grove or jagged strata of dull rock. where is the subtle violet, the dim dream lavender? fled as subtly as the shadow of a wing! perhaps it _is_ a shadow of the divine, the soul-essence common to man and the flower at his feet, the dumb, stone mountains, the living air and the heaven that embraces all in its enduring keep. we pass into the deep, unbroken shadow of virgin woods where bushes burn with crimson rosehips, the thimbleberry shines in its autumn garb of yellow, the tamarack gleams golden among its somber brethren, the pines, and strange, bright shrubs set us forever guessing. we emerge into a billowing field of wild hay, fringed with trees, above which we can see the metallic sharpness of the mountains. shining over all impartially, shedding its glory upon our souls, is the dominant sun whose broad rays break into a mist of ruddy gold. again we dip into eternal shadow, the horses' hoofs sound with a dull cluck as they sink in and are lifted from the soft mold. often we are startled by the sudden whirr of wings as frightened grouse fly to shelter. fungus thrusts evil, flame-coloured tongues from the damp, sweet soil and a marvelous variety of moss and lichen trace their patterns on logs, tree stumps and upon the wind-thrown forest trees that toss their gnarled roots high above our heads in an agony of everlasting despair. we splash through dutch creek, camas creek and many another, and as we pause to eat a frugal midday meal on the banks of one of these, we find upon a trailing limb, a dying butterfly. poor little sprite of yesterday! its bright wings palpitate feebly and it suffers us to take it in our hands without making an effort to escape. the last of its gay brethren, the blossom-lovers, its hour is come and with its final strength it has fluttered to this friendly leaf to die. so, very gently we put it back upon its chosen resting place, leaving it to join ghostly bright winged flocks in the sunshine of some immortal arcady. from a high ridge which falls away abruptly into a water-hewn declivity, we look through broad, open vistas far below at the north fork of the flathead river. the stream takes its way between banks of fine gray pebbles, parting now over a sandy bar in slender green ribbons, then uniting in one broad current, again separating to curl in white foam-frills around a boulder or little island. mild and limpid as the river now appears there is evidence of its flood-tide fury in uprooted trees and livid scars along its banks. working silently and secretly near the water's edge is a beaver. we can scarcely distinguish him as he toils patiently, bringing to our minds the old selish legend that the beavers are a fallen tribe of indians, doomed by the great spirit to expiate an ancient wrong by constant labor in their present shape. but some day after the appointed penance, the indians believe that the beavers will resume the form of men and come into their own again. for two days we ride farther and farther into the wilderness, camping by night and taking up the trail with the early dawn. and as we penetrate deeper into the wild the pageant changes only to become more sublime. clumps of slenderly graceful silver poplars with gray, satin-smooth boles and branches that burst into a shower of golden leaves, shed glory upon our way. dense woods of yellow pine whose giant trunks hold all the shades of faded rose, and silvery-green colorado spruce overshadow us and once we find ourselves in a grove of yellow tamarack hung with streamers of black moss. years upon years ago a forest fire whose fury was nearly spent had scorched these trees with its hot breath, changing the feathery moss into flowing streamers of black--veritable mourning weeds--which contrast sharply with the golden foliage. even now it is easy to fancy that the fire still burns and each tall tamarack is a pillar of living flame. the nights are no less wonderful than the days. the melon-coloured harvest moon floats high in the blue-black heavens, touching the priestly trees with its white rays. we sit beside our camp fire listening to the crackle of dry twigs beneath a cautious tread, the occasional whistle of a stag and the ominous note of an owl hooting among the pines. sometimes we fancy that green and amber eyes burn the darkness, and we cling close, close to the primal birthright of the race--the flaming brand--which raises its bright barrier now as in the age of stone, between mankind and the predatory beasts of the wild. the wooded hosts seem to press down with stifling persistence upon us and an indefinable terror creeps into our hearts, the inherent fear of man, the atom, of nature, the fathomless, the unknown. as these nights wear on and we lie upon our couches of fragrant cedar boughs, up out of the gulf of silence the lean-flanked coyotes howl to the moon, and later still, when the pale disc dips beneath the horizon and the shrouded secrecy of before-dawn steals, like a timid ghost, out of the infinite, the trees find tongue and murmur together though there is no wind and the stream sings with a music as of hidden bells. strange, elfin sounds, the merest echo of a whisper thrill out of the quiet and sigh into silence again. a faint patter-patter as of falling thistledown is heard constantly, insistently, inevitably. can it be the beat of gossamer wings, the trip of faery feet as the woodland sprites hang the grass, the leaves, the finest-spun thread of cobweb with beads of dew, and trim the dark pines, like christmas trees, with tinsel frost? truly the pale morning light breaks upon a transformed and enchanted world. silver filigree adorns the most commonplace limb and twig. each pine needle twinkles with a gem giving forth rainbow-hued rays beneath the first steel-cold beams of the sun. the thorn-apple, whose wine-red branches are furred with a white beard, is etherealized into delicate pastel shades of lavender and mauve by a film of hoar frost. ragged streamers of fantastic mist-shapes rise and float heavily through the moist air, obscuring, then revealing stretches of stream-laced woods and finally rolling away in lessening vapour into the lingering dusk of ravines. there is a mighty scene-shifting of nature in progress. the night phantoms, the colourless dawn-shapes are hurried off, while the sun, riding high in the deepening blue, touches stream and tree and peak with the illumination of the new day. as we wander about breathing the balsam sweetness of the pine-breath of the new dawn, we make curiously interesting discoveries. by an unfortunate accident we roll a hollow log over and uncover a squirrel's winter larder of small pine cones, and at the same time we hear above our heads, in trees so lofty that we cannot penetrate the dense canopy of interlocked limb, the domestic troubles of a pair of these contentious little forest folk. in high treble voices they quarrel and dispute in a perfect hysteria of rage. upon the damp trail near camp we find large, cloven hoof prints too big for those of a deer, so probably our mysterious visitor of the evening before was no less a personage than a lordly moose. we linger on heedlessly, much the same as the absent-minded flowers, clinging as desperately to the woodland as the dying butterfly, deceiving ourselves into the half-belief that winter is far away. the air is still warm and the light shines on the mountains. and that light lures us on by its thrall to higher altitudes. down the gorges the snow gathers in deepening drifts and the utmost peaks are white as carven ivory. still we resolve to make one brave dash for the quartz lakes, set one above the other in a chain among sheltering cañons and flanking cliffs. under the inspiration of the camp fire we discuss the morrow's journey. how splendid it will be to race with the sun; to dare the sudden blizzard that might cut off our retreat, for one brief glimpse of that upper world we have grown to love with a passion akin to madness. but even as we speak a shadow falls, and looking upward we see that a gray moth-wing of cloud hides the moon. surely it is a passing vapour, the merest mist-breath exhaled by the languid night. but no! darker and heavier it unrolls. wraith shapes glide out from the black mass until the stars are dead and the deep blue dome of heaven is shrouded by an impenetrable pall. that night the heavy rain drops beat a tattoo on the tent and the mournful pines weep the sorrow of ages. undaunted we take up the trail, assuring ourselves that soon the fickle weather will be fair again. occasionally a patch of clear blue shows through the broken flock of hurrying clouds and a wan sun ray steals down for a moment to kiss the woods goodbye. the forests are already drenched and each bough that strikes us pours upon us a little flood of rain. the trees line up in somber walls and as the storm settles into a steady downpour, between their dark fringes flows a narrow, ashen stream of sky. through the brooding shadow tamaracks kindle, silver poplars huddle together with quivering aureoles of gold, and the austere dusk beneath their boughs is lighted with yellow-leafed thimbleberry, glowing like sunbeams. it seems as though the foliage of those receptive trees and shrubs has absorbed the summer sun to give it forth again when the world should be cloaked in shadow. so complete is the illusion that oftentimes, as a shaft of light gleams through the tree tops, we cry exultantly: "the sun is shining!" in another second we see that it is but the tamaracks burning like tall, yellow candles through the autumnal gloom, shedding their blessed gift of light to cheer us on our way. when we gain the lower quartz lake, a deep green sheet of water bordered by wooded shores, the heavy clouds drag low and a rainbow arches the lake. we halt, uncertain, raising our eyes questioningly to the heights beyond that frown blackly through the tattered tapestry of the clouds. the mountains are angry! very reluctantly, sorrowfully, we turn to retrace our steps, thinking of future seasons of sun and warmth and other quests of the sublime that shall end in triumph. at each gust the shearing wind despoils the silver poplars of their crowns until the naked branches leap wildly in a fantastic dance of death. the changeling season, the faery-child of nature has fled as mysteriously as it came--fled like a flock of yellow butterflies into some ethereal region to await its perennial resurrection. dull autumn settles drab as a moth upon the saddened world and the light has died from the mountains. transcriber's notes: simple typographical errors were corrected. punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. this book uses both "leggins" and "leggings". reference to page in the list of illustrations should be to page . page : "complete, in maximilian's" is printed with a comma in the book and unchanged here. transcriber note table of contents added. text emphasis denoted as _italics_. [illustration: governor alex ramsey, of st. paul, the last of the war governors.] a thrilling narrative of the minnesota massacre and the sioux war of - graphic accounts of the _siege of fort ridgely, battles of birch coolie, wood lake, big mound, stony lake, dead buffalo lake and missouri river_. illustrated. chicago: a. p. connolly, publisher, past commander u. s. grant post, no. , g. a. r. department of illinois. copyright , by a. p. connolly chicago. donohue & henneberry, printers and binders, chicago. dedication. thirty-four years ago and minnesota was in an unusual state of excitement. the great war of the rebellion was on and many of her sons were in the union army "at the front." in addition, the sioux indian outbreak occurred and troops were hurriedly sent to the frontier. company a, sixth minnesota infantry, and detachments from other companies were sent out to bury the victims of the indians. this duty performed, they rested from their labors and in an unguarded hour, they, too, were surrounded by the victorious indians and suffered greatly in killed and wounded at birch coolie, minnesota, on september and , . the men who gave up their lives at this historic place, have been remembered by the state in the erection of a beautiful monument to their memory and the names inscribed thereon are as follows: john college, sergeant, company a, sixth minnesota. wm. irvine, sergeant, company a, sixth minnesota. wm. m. cobb, corporal, company a, sixth minnesota. cornelius coyle, private, company a, sixth minnesota. george coulter, private, company a, sixth minnesota. chauncey l. king, private, company a, sixth minnesota. henry rolleau, private, company a, sixth minnesota. wm. russell, private, company a, sixth minnesota. henry whetsler, private, company a, sixth minnesota. benj. s. terry, sergeant, company g, sixth minnesota. f. c. w. renneken, corporal, company g, sixth minnesota. robert baxter, sergeant, mounted rangers. richard gibbons, corporal, mounted rangers. to these, knowing them all personally and well, i fraternally and reverentially inscribe this book. introduction. "we are coming, father abraham, six hundred thousand more!" this was in response to the president's appeal for men to go to the front, and the vast levies this called for made men turn pale and maidens tremble. the union army was being defeated, and its ranks depleted by disease and expiration of terms of service--the enemy was victorious and defiant, and foreign powers were wavering. in england aristocracy wanted a confederacy--the commoners wanted an undivided union. the north responded to the appeal, mothers gave up their sons, wives their husbands, maidens their lovers, and six hundred thousand "boys in blue" marched away. in august, , i enlisted to serve uncle sam for "three years or during the war." in january, , i reenlisted to serve another term; but the happy termination of the conflict made it unnecessary. i do not write this boastingly, but proudly. there are periods in our lives we wish to emphasize and with me this is the period in my life. the years from to --memorable for all time, i look back to now as a dream. the echo of the first gun on sumter startled the world. men stood aghast and buckling on the sword and shouldering the musket they marched away. brave men from the north met brave men from the south, and, as the clash of arms resounded throughout our once happy land, the nations of the world with bated breath watched the destinies of this republic. after four years of arbitration on many sanguinary fields, we decided at appomattox to live in harmony under one flag. the soldiers are satisfied--"the blue and the gray" have joined hands; but the politicians, or at least some of them, seem to be unaware that the war is over, and still drag us into the controversy. "the boys in blue?" why, that was in , and this is --thirty years after we had fulfilled our contract and turned over the goods; and was ever work better done? then we could have anything we wanted; now we are "old soldiers" and it is to against us when there is work to do. a new generation has arisen, and the men of to are out of "the swim," unless their vote is wanted. we generally vote right. we were safe to trust in "the dark days" and we can be trusted now; but young america is in the front rank and we must submit. the soldier was a queer "critter" and could adapt himself to any circumstance. he could cook, wash dishes, preach, pray, fight, build bridges, build railroads, scale mountains, dig wells, dig canals, edit papers, eat three square meals a day or go without and find fault; and so with this experience of years,--the eventful years of and before me, when the door is shut and i am no longer effective and cannot very well retire--to the poor-house, have concluded to write a book. i am not so important a character as either grant, sherman, sheridan or logan; but i did my share toward making them great. i'll never have a monument erected to my memory unless i pay for it myself; but my conscience is clear, for i served more than three years in uncle sam's army and i have never regretted it and have no apologies to make. i did not go for pay, bounty or pension, although i got both the former when i did enlist and am living in the enjoyment of the latter now. i would not like to say how much my pension is, but it is not one hundred a month by "a large majority"--and so, i have concluded, upon the whole, to profit by a portion of my experience in the great "sioux war" in minnesota and dakota in (for i campaigned both north and south) and write a book and thus "stand off" the wolf in my old age. when peace was declared, the great armies were ordered home and the "boys in blue" became citizens again. the majority of us have passed over the hill-top and are going down the western slope of life, leaving our comrades by the wayside. in a few years more there will be but a corporal's guard left and "the place that knows us now will know us no more forever." the poor-house will catch some and the soldiers' home others; but the bread of charity can never be so sweet and palatable as is that derived from one's own earnings,--hence this little book of personal experiences and exciting events of these exciting years-- and . in it i deal in facts and personal experiences, and the experiences of others who passed through the trying ordeal, as narrated to me. as one grows old, memory in some sense is unreliable. it cannot hold on as it once did. the recollection of the incidents of youth remains, while the more recent occurrences have often but a slender hold on our memories; often creeps in touching dates, but the recollections of august, , and the months that followed, are indeed vivid; the impress is so indelibly graven on our memories that time has not effaced them. the characters spoken of i knew personally, some for years; the locations were familiar to me, the buildings homely as they appear, are correct in size and in style of architecture and some of them i helped to build. the narrative is as i would relate to you, were we at one of our "camp fires." it is turning back the pages of memory, but in the mental review it seems but yesterday that the sad events occurred. a. p. connolly. [illustration: yours truly, _a. p. connolly_ ] contents chapter page i. general remarks--death of dr. weiser ii. st. paul and minneapolis in and --father hennepin. iii. a pathetic chapter--captain chittenden's minnehaha. iv. origin of indians--captain carver--sitting bull. v. fort snelling. vi. the alarm. vii. some of the causes of the war. viii. little crow at devil's lake. ix. fort ridgely besieged. x. siege of new ulm. xi. col. flandreau in command. xii. mrs. eastlick and family. xiii. the missionaries--their escape. xiv. the indian pow-wow. xv. gov. sibley appointed commander. xvi. march to fort ridgely. xvii. burial of capt. marsh and men. xviii. battle of birch coolie. xix. birch coolie continued. xx. battle of wood lake. xxi. camp release. xxii. the indian prisoners--the trial. xxiii. capture of renegade bands--midnight march. xxiv. homeward bound. xxv. protests--president lincoln's order for the execution. xxvi. the execution--the night before. xxvii. squaws take leave of their husbands. xxviii. capture and release of joe brown's indian family. xxix. governor ramsey and hole-in-the-day. xxx. chaska--george spencer--chaska's death--the "moscow" expedition. xxxi. the "moscow" expedition. xxxii. campaign of --camp pope. xxxiii. "forward march." xxxiv. burning prairie--fighting fire. xxxv. death of little crow. xxxvi. little crow, jr.--his capture. xxxvii. camp atchison--george a. brackett's adventure--lieutenant freeman's death. xxxviii. battle of big mound. xxxix. battle of dead buffalo lake. xl. battle of stony lake--capture of a teton--death of lieutenant beaver. xli. homeward bound. xlii. the campaign of . xliii. the battle of the bad lands. xliv. conclusion. chapter i. general remarks--death of dr. weiser. historians have written, orators have spoken and poets have sung of the heroism and bravery of the great union army and navy that from to followed the leadership of grant, sherman, sheridan, logan, thomas, mcpherson, farragut and porter from bull run to appomattox, and from atlanta to the sea; and after their work was done and well done, returned to their homes to receive the plaudits of a grateful country. more than thirty years have elapsed since these trying, melancholy times. the question that then called the volunteer army into existence has been settled, and the great commanders have gone to their rewards. we bow our heads in submission to the mandate of the king of kings, as with sorrow and pleasure we read the grateful tributes paid to the memories of the heroes on land and on sea,--the names made illustrious by valorous achievements, and that have become household words, engraven on our memories; and we think of them as comrades who await us "on fame's eternal camping ground." since the war, other questions have arisen to claim our attention, and this book treats of another momentous theme. the indian question has often, indeed too often, been uppermost in the minds of the people. we have had the world's fair, the four hundredth anniversary of the discovery of america, the recollection of which is still fresh in our memories. now we have politics and doubtless have passed through one of the most exciting political campaigns of our day and generation; but, let us take a retrospective view, and go back thirty years; look at some of the causes leading up to the indian war of ; make a campaign with me as we march over twelve hundred miles into an almost unknown land and defeat the indians in several sanguinary battles, liberate four hundred captive women and children, try, convict and hang thirty-nine indians for participating in the murder of thousands of unsuspecting white settlers, and if, upon our return, you are not satisfied, i hope you will in the kindness of your heart forgive me for taking you on this (at the time) perilous journey. i will say to my comrades who campaigned solely in the south, that my experience, both north and south, leads me to believe there is no comparison. in the south we fought foemen worthy of our steel,--soldiers who were manly enough to acknowledge defeat, and magnanimous enough to respect the defeat of their opponents. not so with the redskins. their tactics were of the skulking kind; their object scalps, and not glory. they never acknowledged defeat, had no respect for a fallen foe, and gratified their natural propensity for blood. meeting them in battle there was but one choice,--fight, and one result only, if unsuccessful,--certain death. they knew what the flag of truce meant (cessation of hostilities), but had not a proper respect for it. they felt safe in coming to us with this time-honored symbol of protection, because they knew we would respect it. we did not feel safe in going to them under like circumstances, because there were those among them who smothered every honorable impulse to gratify a spirit of revenge and hatred. as an illustration of this i will state, that just after the battle of the big mound in , we met a delegation of indians with a flag of truce, and while the interpreter was talking to them and telling them what the general desired, and some soldiers were giving them tobacco and crackers, dr. weiser, surgeon of the second minnesota cavalry, having on his full uniform as major, tempted a villainous fellow, who thinking, from the uniform, that it was general sibley, our commander, jumped up, and before his intention could be understood, shot him through the back, killing him instantly. treachery of this stamp does not of course apply to all the members of all tribes and benighted people; for i suppose even in the jungles of africa, where tribes of black men live who have never heard of a white man, we could find some endowed with human instincts, who would protect those whom the fortunes of war or exploration might cast among them. we found some indians who were exceptions to the alleged general rule--cruel. the battles we fought were fierce, escapes miraculous, personal experiences wonderful and the liberation of the captives a bright chapter in the history of events in this exciting year. chapter ii. st. paul and minneapolis in and --father hennepin. as st. paul, minnesota, is our starting point, we will pause for a little and cultivate the acquaintance of her people. the picture represents st. paul and minneapolis about as we suppose they were previous to , and before a white man gazed upon the natural beauties of our great country. in the picture you see "one of the first families," in fact it is the first family, and a healthy, dirty-looking lot they are. they had evidently heard that a stranger had "come to town" and the neighbors came in to lend a hand in "receiving" the distinguished guest. the indian kid on the left hand, with his hair a la paderewski, was probably playing marbles with young dirty-face-afraid-of-soap-and-water in the back yard, when his mother whooped for him to come. he looks mad about it. they all have on their sunday clothes and are speculating as to whether it is best to get acquainted with the forerunner of civilization or not. their liberties had never been abridged. the indians came and went at will, never dreaming that the day was approaching when civilization would force them to "move on." as early as white people were in minnesota, 'tis true, but this was when fort st. anthony was first garrisoned. [illustration: one of the "first families" of st. paul in .] anterior to this, however, a zealous franciscan priest, father hennepin, ascended the mississippi, by oar, impelled on by its beautiful scenery, and in august, , he stood upon the brink of the river near where fort snelling now is, and erected the cross of his church and probably was the first to proclaim to the red man the glad tidings of "peace on earth, good will to man." he pointed them to the cross as the emblem of liberty from superstition, but they in their ignorance did not heed his peaceful coming, but made him their captive, holding him thus for six months, during which time he so completely gained their confidence as to cause them to liberate him, and his name is still remembered reverentially by them. father hennepin named the falls of st. anthony after his patron saint, and was the first white man to look upon its beauties and listen to the music of minnehaha, as her crystal water rolled over the cliffs and went rippling through the grasses and flowers on its merry way to the bosom of the "father of waters." minnehaha, beautiful in sunshine and in shadow; in rain-shower and in snow-storm--for ages has your laughter greeted the ear of the ardent indian lover. here hiawatha, outstripping all competitors in his love-race, wooed his minnehaha and in triumph carried her away to his far-off ojibway home. the indians loved this spot and as they camped upon its banks and smoked the peace pipe "as a signal to the nations," dreamed only of peace and plenty. the great spirit was good to them; but the evil day was approaching, invisible yet, then a speck on the horizon, but the cloud grew and the "pale face" was among them. sorrowfully they bid farewell forever to their beautiful "laughing water." in these early days it was almost beyond the comprehension of man that two populous cities should spring up as have st. paul and minneapolis, and pierre parrant, the first settler at st. paul, little dreamed that the "twin cities," with a population variously estimated at from , to , , would greet the eye of the astonished beholder in . they sprang into existence and grew apace; they met with reverses, as all cities do, but the indomitable energy of the men who started out to carve for themselves a fortune, achieved their end, and their children are now enjoying the fruits of their labor. there is no city in america that can boast an avenue equal to summit avenue in st. paul, with its many beautiful residences ranging in cost from $ , to $ , . notably among these palatial homes is that of james j. hill, the railroad king of the northwest. his is a palace set on a hill, built in the old english style, situated on an eminence overlooking the river and the bluffs beyond. the grounds without and the art treasures within are equal to those of any home in our country, and such as are found only in homes of culture where money in plenty is always at hand to gratify every desire. the avenue winds along the bluff, and the outlook up and down the river calls forth exclamations of delight from those who can see beauty in our natural american scenery. in the springtime, when the trees are in their fresh green garb, and budding forth, and in the autumn when the days are hazy and short, when the sere of months has painted the foliage in variegated colors, and it begins to fall, the picture as unfolded to the beholder standing on the bluffs is delighting, enchanting. the urban and interurban facilities for transport from city to city are the best in the world, and is the successful result of years of observation and laborious effort on the part of the honorable thomas lowry, the street railway magnate; and the many bridges spanning the "father of waters" at either end of the line give evidence of the ability of the business men of the two cities to compass anything within reason. minneapolis, the "flour city," noted for its broad streets and palatial homes nestling among the trees; its magnificent public library building with its well-filled shelves of book treasures; its expensive and beautiful public buildings and business blocks; its far-famed exposition building, and its great cluster of mammoth flouring mills that astonish the world, are the pride of every minnesotian. even the "father of waters" laughs as he leaps over the rocks and, winding in and out, drives this world of machinery that grinds up wheat--not by the car-load, but by the train-load, and--"pillsbury's best"--long since a national pride, has become a familiar international brand because it can be found in all the great marts of the world. what a transformation since ! father hennepin, no doubt, looks down from the battlements of heaven in amazement at the change; and the poor indians, who had been wont to roam about here, unhindered, have long since, in sorrow, fled away nearer to the setting sun; but alas! he returned and left the imprint of his aroused savage nature. chapter iii. a pathetic chapter--captain chittenden's minnehaha. in august, , what do we see? homes, beautiful prairie homes of yesterday, to-day have sunken out of sight, buried in their own ashes; the wife of an early love has been overtaken and compelled to submit to the unholy passion of her cruel captor; the prattling tongues of the innocents have been silenced in sudden death, and reason dethroned. a most pathetic case was that of charles nelson, a swede. the day previous, his dwelling had been burned to the ground, his daughter outraged, the head of his wife, lela, cleft by the tomahawk, and while seeking to save himself, he saw, for a moment, his two sons, hans and otto, rushing through the corn-field with the indians in swift pursuit. returning with the troops under colonel mcphail, and passing by the ruins of his home, he gazed about him wildly, and closing the gate of the garden, asked: "when will it be safe to return?" his reason was gone! this pathetic scene witnessed by so many who yet live to remember it, was made a chapter entitled, "the maniac," in a work from the pen of mrs. harriet e. mcconkey, published soon after it occurred. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. minne-ha-ha falls before the white man ever saw it.] captain chittenden, of colonel mcphail's command, while sitting a few days after, under the falls of minnehaha, embodied in verse this wonderful tragedy, giving to the world the following lines: minne-ha-ha, laughing water, cease thy laughing now for aye, savage hands are red with slaughter of the innocent to-day. ill accords thy sportive humor with their last despairing wail; while thou'rt dancing in the sunbeam, mangled corpses strew the vale. change thy note, gay minne-ha-ha; let some sadder strain prevail-- listen, while a maniac wanderer sighs to thee his woeful tale; "give me back my lela's tresses, let me kiss them once again! she, who blest me with caresses lies unburied on the plain! "see yon smoke? there was my dwelling; that is all i have of home! hark! i hear their fiendish yelling, as i, houseless, childless, roam! "have they killed my hans and otto? did they find them in the corn? go and tell that savage monster not to slay my youngest born. "yonder is my new-bought reaper, standing mid the ripened grain; e'en my cow asks why i leave her wand'ring, unmilked, o'er the plain. "soldiers, bury here my lela; place _me_ also 'neath the sod; long we lived and wrought together-- let me die with her--o god! "faithful fido, you they've left me, can you tell me, fido, why god at once has thus bereft me? all i ask is here to die. "o, my daughter jennie, darling! worse than death is jennie's fate!" * * * * * nelson, as our troops were leaving turned and shut his garden gate. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. father hennepin raised the cross of his church on the bank of the mississippi river near where fort snelling now stands in .] chapter iv. origin of indians--captain carver--sitting bull. there is something wonderfully interesting about the origin of the indians. different writers have different theories; john mcintosh, who is an interesting and very exhaustive writer on this subject, says they can date their origin back to the time of the flood, and that magog, the second son of japhet, is the real fountain head. our north american indians, however, were first heard of authentically from father hennepin, who so early came among them. at a later date, about , jonathan carver, a british subject and a captain in the army, made a visit of adventure to this almost unknown and interesting country. the sioux were then very powerful and occupied the country about st. anthony falls, and west of the mississippi, and south, taking in a portion of what now is the state of iowa. the country to the north and northeast was owned by the chippewas. the sioux then, as later, were a very war-like nation, and at the time of captain carver's advent among them were at war with the chippewas, their hated foes. captain carver came among them as a peace-maker; his diplomacy and genial spirit prevailed, and the hatchet was buried. for these good offices, the indians ceded to him a large tract of land, extending from the falls of st. anthony to the foot of lake pipin; thence east one hundred miles; thence north and west to the place of beginning--a most magnificent domain, truly, and which in europe would call for nothing less than a king to supervise its destinies. a writer, hon. w. s. bryant, of st. paul, minnesota, on this subject, says: "that at a later period, after captain carver's death, congress was petitioned by others than his heirs, to confirm the indian deed, and among the papers produced in support of the claim, was a copy of an instrument purporting to have been executed at lake traverse, on the th day of february, , by four indians who called themselves chiefs and warriors of the uandowessies--the sioux. they declare that their fathers did grant to captain jonathan carver this vast tract of land and that there is among their people a traditional record of the same. this writing is signed by ouekien tangah, tashachpi tainche, kache noberie and petite corbeau (little crow)." this "petite" is undoubtedly the father of little crow, who figures in this narrative as the leader in the massacre. captain carver's claim has never been recognized, although the instrument transferring this large tract of land to him by the indians was in existence and in st. paul less than twenty-five years ago. it has since been destroyed and the possessors of these valuable acres can rest themselves in peace. in the red man's ambition was inflamed, and in his desire to repossess himself of his lost patrimony, he seeks redress of his wrongs in bloody war. fort snelling at the junction of the mississippi and minnesota rivers was the rallying point for the soldiers and we produce a picture of it as it appeared then and give something of its history from its first establishment up to date. the great sioux or dakotah nation at one time embraced the uncapapas, assinaboines, mandans, crows, winnebagoes, osages, kansas, kappaws, ottoes, missourias, iowas, omahas, poncas, nez perces, arrickarees, minnetarees, arkansas, tetons, yanktons, yanktonais, and the pawnees. it was a most powerful nation and under favorable conditions could withstand the encroachments of our modern civilization. the ahahaways and unktokas are spoken of as two lost tribes. the unktokas are said to have lived in "wiskonsan," south of the st. croix and were supposed to have been destroyed by the iowas about the commencement of the present century. the ahahaways, a branch of the crows, lived on the upper missouri, but were lost--annihilated by disease, natural causes and war. the uncapapa tribe were from the missouri, and sitting bull, whose picture appears, although not an hereditary chief, was a strong man among them. he was for a time their medicine man and counselor. he was shrewd and a forceful diplomat; he was a pronounced hater of the whites, and has earned notoriety throughout the country as the leader of five thousand warriors, who annihilated general custer and his command at the little big horn in . after the massacre, this huge indian camp was broken up, and bull, with more than one thousand warriors retreated into the british possessions, from whence he made frequent raids upon american soil. his band constantly suffered depletion until, in the summer of , he had but one hundred and sixty followers remaining. these he surrendered to lieutenant-colonel brotherton, at fort buford, and with them was sent as a prisoner to fort randall, dakota. he was married four times, and had a large family. he was not engaged in the sioux war of , but being a chief of that nation and an important indian character, i introduce him. he has gone to the happy hunting ground, some years since, through the treachery of the indian police, who were sent out to capture him. [illustration: sitting bull, the chief in command at the custer battle of the little big horn in .] chapter v. fort snelling. from e. d. neill's recollections. on the th of february, , john c. calhoun, then secretary of war, issued an order for the fifth regiment of infantry to rendezvous at detroit, preparatory to proceeding to the mississippi to garrison or establish military posts, and the headquarters of the regiment was directed to be at the fort to be located at the mouth of the minnesota river. it was not until the th of september that lieutenant-colonel leavenworth, with a detachment of troops, reached this point. a cantonment was first established at new hope, near mendota, and not far from the ferry. during the winter of - , forty soldiers died from scurvy. on the th of may, , colonel leavenworth crossed the river and established a summer camp, but his relations with the indian agent were not as harmonious as they might have been, and colonel josiah snelling arrived and relieved him. on the th of september, the cornerstone of fort st. anthony was laid; the barracks at first were of logs. during the summer of a party of sisseton sioux killed on the missouri isadore poupon, a half-breed, and joseph andrews, a canadian, two men in the employ of the fur company. as soon as the information reached the agent, major taliaferro, trade with the sioux was interdicted until the guilty were surrendered. finding that they were deprived of blankets, powder and tobacco, a council was held at big stone lake, and one of the murderers, and the aged father of another, agreed to go down and surrender themselves. on the th of november, escorted by friends and relatives, they approached the post. halting for a brief period, they formed and marched in solemn procession to the center of the parade ground. in the advance was a sisseton, bearing a british flag; next came the murderer, and the old man who had offered himself as an atonement for his son, their arms pinioned, and large wooden splinters thrust through the flesh above the elbow, indicating their contempt for pain; and in the rear followed friends chanting the death-song. after burning the british flag in front of the sentinels of the fort, they formally delivered the prisoners. the murderer was sent under guard to st. louis, and the old man detained as a hostage. the first white women in minnesota were the wives of the officers of fort st. anthony. the first steamer to arrive at the new fort was the virginia, commanded by captain crawford. the event was so notable that she was greeted by a salute from the fort. in , general scott, on a tour of inspection, visited fort st. anthony, and suggested that the name be changed to fort snelling, in honor of colonel snelling, its first commander. upon this suggestion of general scott and for the reason assigned, the war department made the change and historic fort snelling took its place among the defenses of the nation; and from this date up to , was garrisoned by regulars, who were quartered here to keep in check the indians who were ever on the alert for an excuse to avenge themselves on the white settlers. [illustration: fort snelling in .] author's note. when visiting fort snelling during the occasion of the holding of the national encampment of the grand army of the republic in st. paul in september, , i found such a change. the old stone quarters for the use of the rank and file during the war days were there, it is true, but are being used for purposes other than accommodating the soldiers. i found my old squad room, but the old associations were gone; the memories of the war days crowded upon me, and i thought of the boys whose names and faces i remembered well, but they are dead and scattered over the land. some few were there, and we went over our war history, and in the recital, recalled the names of our comrades who have been finally "mustered out" and have gone beyond the river. the present commandant of the beautiful new fort is colonel john h. page of the third united states infantry. this officer has been continuously in the service since april, . he was a private in company a, first illinois artillery, and went through all the campaigning of this command until the close of the war, when he received an appointment in the regular establishment, and as captain was placed on recruiting service in chicago. his advancement in his regiment has been phenomenal, and to be called to the command of a regiment of so renowned a record as has the third infantry, is an honor to any man, no matter where he won his spurs. colonel page is a comrade of u. s. grant post no. , grand army of the republic, department of illinois, and is also a companion of the loyal legion. he has an interesting family who live with him in the enjoyment of his well-earned laurels. in , and from that to , the scene underwent a wondrous change, and volunteers instead of regulars became its occupants. all the minnesota volunteers rendezvoused here preparatory to taking the field. some years after the war the department determined to make this historic place one of the permanent forts, and commenced a series of improvements. now it is one of the finest within the boundary of our country, and we find the grounds, , acres in extent, beautifully laid out, and extensive buildings with all the modern improvements erected for the accommodation of uncle sam's soldiers. the present post structures consist of an executive building, x feet, of milwaukee brick, two stories and a basement, heated by furnaces and with good water supply. it contains offices for the commanding general and department staff. the officers' quarters: a row of thirteen brick buildings with all the modern improvements, hot and cold water, and a frame stable for each building. minnesota row: six double one-story frame buildings, affording twelve sets of quarters for clerks and employes. brick row: a two-story brick building, x feet, with cellars, having sixteen suites of two rooms each, for unmarried general service clerks and employes. quartermaster's employes have a one-story brick building, x feet, containing eight sets of quarters of two rooms each, also a mess-house, one story brick, x feet, containing a kitchen and dining room, with cellar x feet. engineer's quarters, school house, quartermaster's corrals, brick stables, blacksmith shops, frame carriage house, granary and hay-house, ice house, etc., good water works, sewer system, and electric lights. chapter vi. the alarm. the indians! the indians are coming! how the cry rang out and struck terror to the hearts of the bravest. it brought to mind the stories of early days, of this great republic, when the east was but sparsely settled, and the great west an unknown country, with the indian monarch of all he surveyed. the vast prairies, with their great herds of buffalo were like the trackless seas; the waving forests, dark and limitless; mountain ranges--the alleghanies, the rockies and the sierra nevadas, towering above the clouds; the countless lakes--fresh and salt, hot and cold; the great inland seas; the gigantic water falls, and the laughing waters; the immense rivers, little rivulets at the mountain source, accumulating as they flowed on in their immensity, as silently and sullenly they wend their way to the sea; the rocky glens and great canyons, the wonder of all the world. it was in the early day of our republic, when the hardy pioneer took his little family and out in the wilderness sought a new home; a time when the indian, jealous of the white man's encroachment, and possessor by right of previous occupation, of this limitless, rich and wonderful empire, when great and powerful indian nations--the delawares, the hurons, the floridas, and other tribes in their native splendor and independence, said to the pale face, "thus far shalt thou go, and no farther." the terror-stricken people were obliged to flee to places of safety, or succumb to the tomahawk; and on throughout the seminole, the black hawk and other wars, including the great minnesota massacre of . [illustration: squad room at fort snelling.] reader accompany me. the atmosphere is surcharged with excitement, and the whole country is terror-stricken. the southland is drenched in blood, and the earth trembles under the tread of marching thousands. the eyes of the nation are turned in that direction, and the whole civilized world is interested in the greatest civil war of the world's history. the levies from the states are enormous, and the stalwarts, by regiments and brigades, respond to the call for "six hundred thousand more." the loyal people of the frontier have long since ceased to look upon the indians as enemies, and tearfully urge their husbands and sons to rally to the colors in the south. what is taking place in the land of the dakotahs? their empire is fading away, their power is on the wane, their game is scarce, and they look with disgust and disfavor upon their unnatural environments. in poetry and in prose we have read of them in their natural way of living. they have been wronged; their vast empire has slipped away from them; they laugh, they scowl and run from tribe to tribe; they have put on the war-paint and broken the pipe of peace; with brandishing tomahawk and glistening scalping knife they are on the trail of the innocent. "turn out, the regulars are coming!" were the ringing words of paul revere, as he, in mad haste, on april , , on foaming steed, rode through the lowlands of middlesex; so, too, are the unsuspecting people in minnesota aroused by the cry of a courier, who, riding along at a break-neck speed shouts: "the indians, the indians are coming!" all nature is aglow; the sun rises from his eastern bed and spreads his warm, benign rays over this prairie land, and its happy occupants, as this terrific sound rings out on the morning air, are aroused and the cry: "come over and help us" from the affrighted families, as they forsake their homes and flee for their lives, speeds on its way to ears that listen and heed their earnest, heart-piercing not, of despair, for the "boys in blue" respond. the people had been warned by friendly indians that the fire brands would soon be applied; and that once started, none could tell where it would end. they were implored to take heed and prepare for the worst; but unsuspecting, they had been so long among their indian friends, they could not believe that treachery would bury all feelings of friendship; but alas! thousands were slain. go with me into their country and witness the sad results of a misguided people, and note how there was a division in their camp. the hot young bloods, ever ready for adventure and bloody adventure at that, had dragged their nation into an unnecessary war and the older men and conservative men with sorrowful hearts counselled together how best to extricate themselves and protect the lives of those who were prisoners among them. the campaign of is on. chapter vii. some of the causes of the war. lo! the poor indian, has absorbed much of the people's attention and vast sums of uncle sam's money; and being a participant in the great sioux war of , what i write deals with facts and not fiction, as we progress from fort snelling, minnesota, to "camp release," where we found and released over four hundred white captives. but i will digress for a time and look into the causes leading up to this cruel sioux war that cost so many lives and so much treasure. there is a great diversity of opinion on this question, and while not particularly in love with the indian, i have not the temerity to criticise the almighty because he puts his impress white upon some, and red upon others; neither shall i sit in judgment and say there are no good indians--except dead ones. the indian question proper is of too great a magnitude to analyze and treat with intelligence in this little book; but in the abstract, and before we enter upon the active campaign against them, let us look at it and see if the blame does not to a great extent rest more with the government than it does with these people. the indians came from we know not where--legends have been written and tradition mentions them as among the earliest known possessors of this great western world. the biologist speculates, and it is a matter of grave doubt as to their origin. certain it is, that as far back as the time of columbus they were found here, and we read nothing in the early history of the voyages of this wonderful navigator to convince us that the indians were treacherous;--indeed we would rather incline to the opposite opinion. the racial war began with the conquest of the spaniards. in their primitive condition, the indians were possessed of a harmless superstition--they knew no one but of their kind; knew nothing of another world; knew nothing of any other continent in this world. when they discovered the white men and the ships with their sails spread, they looked upon the former as supernatural beings and the ships as great monsters with wings. civilization and the indian nature are incompatible and evidences of this were soon apparent. the ways of the europeans were of course unknown to them. they were innocent of the white man's avaricious propensities and the practice of "give and take" (and generally more take than give) was early inaugurated by the sailors of columbus and the nefarious practice has been played by a certain class of americans ever since. soon their suspicions were aroused and friendly intercourse gave place to wars of extermination. the indian began to look upon the white man as his natural enemy; fighting ensued; tribes became extinct; territory was ceded, and abandoned. soon after american independence had been declared, the indians became the wards of the nation. the government, instead of treating them as wards and children, has uniformly allowed them to settle their own disputes in their own peculiar and savage way, and has looked upon the bloody feuds among the different tribes much as plug uglies and thugs do a disreputable slugging match or dog-fight. a writer says: "if they are wards of the nation, why not take them under the strong arm of the law and deal with them as with others who break the law? make an effort to civilize, and if civilization exterminates them it will be an honorable death,--to the nation at least. send missionaries among them instead of thieving traders; implements of peace, rather than weapons of war; bibles instead of scalping knives; religious tracts instead of war paint; make an effort to christianize instead of encouraging them in their savagery and laziness; such a course would receive the commendation and acquiescence of the christian world." there is not a sensible, unprejudiced man in america to-day, who gives the matter thought, but knows that the broken treaties and dishonest dealing with the indians are a disgrace to this nation; and the impress of injustice is deeply and justly engraven upon the savage mind. the lesson taught by observation was that lying was no disgrace, adultery no sin, and theft no crime. this they learned from educated white men who had been sent to them as the representatives of the government; and these educated gentlemen (?) looked upon the indian as common property, and to filch him of his money by dishonest practices, a pleasant pastime. the indian woman did not escape his lecherous eye and if his base proposals were rejected, he had other means to resort to to enable him to accomplish his base desire. these wards were only indians and why respect their feelings? "sow the wind and reap the whirlwind." the whirlwind came and oh, the sad results! the indians were circumscribed in their hunting grounds by the onward march of civilization which crowded them on every side and their only possible hope from starvation, was in the fidelity with which a great nation kept its pledges. 'tis true, money was appropriated by the government for this purpose, but it is equally true that gamblers and thieving traders set up fictitious claims and the indians came out in debt and their poor families were left to starve. hungry, exasperated and utterly powerless to help themselves, they resolved on savage vengeance when the propitious time arrived. "the villainy you teach me i will execute," became a living, bloody issue. this did not apply alone to the sioux nation, but to the chippewas as well. these people have always been friends of the whites, and have uniformly counselled peace; but broken pledges and impositions filled the friendly ones with sorrow, and the others with anger. the commissioners, no doubt, rectified the wrong as soon as it was brought to their notice, but the indians were plucked all the same and had sense enough to know it. our country is cursed with politicians--the statesmen seem to have disappeared; but, the politician grows like rank weeds and the desire for "boodle" permeates our municipal, state and national affairs. our indian system has presented a fat field so long as these wards of the nation submitted to being fleeced by unprincipled agents and their gambling friends, but at last, the poor indian is aroused to the enormity of the imposition and the innocent whites had to suffer. in some instances the vengeance of god followed the unscrupulous agent and the scalping knife in the hand of the injured indian was made the instrument whereby this retribution came. there has been a great deal said of indian warriors--we have read of them in poetry and in prose and of the beautiful indian maiden as well. the sioux warriors are tall, athletic, fine looking men, and those who have not been degraded by the earlier and rougher frontier white man, or had their intellects destroyed by the white man's fire-water, possess minds of a high order and can reason with a correctness that would astonish our best scholars and put to blush many of our so-called statesmen, and entirely put to rout a majority of the men who, by the grace of men's votes hold down congressional chairs. yet they are called savages and are associated in our minds with tomahawks and scalping knives. few regard them as reasoning creatures and some even think they are not endowed by their creator with souls. good men are sending bibles to all parts of the world, sermons are preached in behalf of our fellow-creatures who are perishing in regions known only to us by name; yet here within easy reach, but a few miles from civilization, surrounded by churches and schools and all the moral influences abounding in christian society; here, in a country endowed with every advantage that god can bestow, are perishing, body and soul, our countrymen--perishing from disease, starvation and intemperance and all the evils incident to their unhappy condition. i have no apology to make for the savage atrocities of any people, be they heathen or christian, or pretended christian; and we can point to pages of history where the outrages perpetrated by the soldiers of so-called christian nations, under the sanction of their governments, would cause the angels to weep. look at bleeding armenia, the victim of the lecherous turk, who has satiated his brutal, bestial nature in the blood and innocency of tens of thousands of men, women and children; and yet, the christian nations of the world look on with indifference at these atrocities and pray: "oh, lord, pour out thy blessings on us and protect us while we are unmindful of the appeals of mothers and daughters in poor armenia!" this royal, lecherous, murderous turk, instead of being dethroned and held to a strict accountability for the horrible butcheries, and worse than butcheries, going on within his kingdom and for which he, and he alone, is responsible, is held in place by christian and civilized nations for fear that some one shall, in the partition of his unholy empire, get a bigger slice than is its equitable share. the "sick man" has been allowed for the last half century to commit the most outrageous crimes against an inoffensive, honest, progressive, and law-abiding people, and no vigorous protest has gone out against it. shall we, then, mercilessly condemn the poor indians because, driven from pillar to post, with the government pushing in front and hostile tribes and starvation in their rear, they have in vain striven for a bare existence? whole families have starved while the fathers were away on their hunt for game. through hunger and disease powerful tribes have become but a mere band of vagabonds. america, as she listens to the dying wail of the red man, driven from the forests of his childhood and the graves of his fathers, cannot afford to throw stones; but rather let her redeem her broken pledges to these helpless, benighted, savage children, and grant them the protection they have the right to expect, nay, demand. "i will wash my hands in innocency" will not suffice. let the government make amends, and in the future mete out to the dishonest agent such a measure of punishment as will strike terror to him and restore the confidence of the indians who think they have been unjustly dealt with. but to my theme. the year of which i write was a time in st. paul when the indian was almost one's next door neighbor,--a time when trading between st. paul and winnipeg was carried on principally by half-breeds, and the mode of transportation the crude red river cart, which is made entirely of wood,--not a scrap of iron in its whole make-up. the team they used was one ox to a cart, and the creak of this long half-breed train, as it wended its way over the trackless country, could be heard twice a year as it came down to the settlements laden with furs to exchange for supplies for families, and hunting purposes. it was at a time when the hostile bands of sioux met bands of chippewas, and in the immediate vicinity engaged in deadly conflict, while little attention was paid to their feuds by the whites or the government at washington. chapter viii. little crow at devil's lake. it was in august, , on the western border of devil's lake, dakota, there sat an old indian chief in the shade of his wigwam, preparing a fresh supply of kinnikinnick. the mantle of evening was veiling the sky as this old chief worked and the events of the past were crowding his memory. he muses alone at the close of the day, while the wild bird skims away on its homeward course and the gathering gloom of eventide causes a sigh to escape his breast, as many sweet pictures of past happy years "come flitting again with their hopes and their fears." the embers of the fire have gone out and he and his dog alone are resting on the banks of the lake after the day's hunt; and, as he muses, he wanders back to the time when in legend lore the indian owned the western world; the hills and the valleys, the vast plains and their abundance, the rivers, the lakes and the mountains were his; great herds of buffalo wended their way undisturbed by the white hunter; on every hand abundance met his gaze, and the proud red man with untainted blood, and an eye filled with fire, looked out toward the four points of the compass, and, with beating heart, thanked the great spirit for this goodly heritage. to disturb his dream the white man came, and as the years rolled on, step by step, pressed him back;--civilization brought its cunning and greed for money-getting. a generous government, perhaps too confiding, allowed unprincipled men to rob and crowd, and crowd and rob, until the mississippi is reached and the farther west is portioned out to him for his future residence. the influx of whites from europe and the rapidly increasing population demand more room, and another move is planned by the government for the indians, until they are crowding upon the borders of unfriendly tribes. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. little crow sitting meditating on the banks of devil's lake, dakota, august, .] this old chief of whom we speak awoke from his meditative dream, and in imagination we see him with shaded eyes looking afar off toward the mountain. he beholds a cloud no bigger than a man's hand; he strains his eye, and eagerly looks, for he sees within the pent-up environments of this cloud all the hatred and revenge with which his savage race is endowed. the cloud that is gathering is not an imaginative one, but it will burst in time upon the heads of guilty and innocent alike; and the old chief chuckles as he thinks of the scalps he will take from the hated whites, and the great renown, and wonderful power yet in store for him. his runners go out visiting other bands and tell what the old chief expects. they give their assent to it, and as they talk and speculate, they too, become imbued with a spirit of revenge and a desire to gain back the rich heritage their fathers once held in possession for them, but which has passed from their control. they are not educated, it is true, but nature has endowed them with intelligence enough to understand that their fathers had bartered away an empire, and in exchange had taken a limited country, illy adapted to their wants and crude, uncivilized habits. this old chief's mind is made up, and we will meet him again--aye! on fields of blood and carnage. the government had acted in good faith, and had supplied the indians with material for building small brick houses, furnishing, in addition to money payments and clothing, farming implements and all things necessary to enable them to support themselves on their fertile farms; and missionaries, also, were among them, and competent teachers, ready to give the young people, as they grew up, an education, to enable them to better their condition and take on the habits and language of the white settlers. but the devil among the indians, as among the whites, finds "some mischief still for idle hands to do;" gamblers and other unprincipled men followed the agents, hob-nobbed with them, and laid their plans to "hold-up and bunko" the indians, who, filled with fire-water and a passion for gambling, soon found themselves stripped of money, ponies and blankets, with nothing in view but a long, cold, dreary winter and starvation. a gambler could kill an indian and all he had to fear was an indian's vengeance (for the civil law never took cognizance of the crime); but if an indian, filled with rum, remorse and revenge, killed a gambler, he was punished to the full extent of the law. in this one thing the injustice was so apparent that even an indian could see it; and he made up his mind that when the time came he would even up the account. the savage indians were intelligent enough to know that in these transactions it was the old story of the handle on the jug--all on one side. those of the "friendlies" who were christianized and civilized were anxious to bury forever all remains of savagery and become citizens of the nation, and if the government had placed honorable men over them to administer the law, their influence would have been felt, and in time the leaven of law and order, would have leavened the whole sioux nation. the various treaties that had been made with them by the government did not seem to satisfy the majority, and whether there was any just cause for this dissatisfaction i do not propose to discuss; but, that a hostile feeling did exist was apparent, as subsequent events proved. the provisions of the treaties for periodical money payments, although carried out with substantial honesty, failed to fulfill the exaggerated expectations of the indians; and these matters of irritation added fuel to the fire of hostility, which always has, and always will exist between a civilized and a barbarous nation, when brought into immediate contact; and especially has this been the case where the savages were proud, brave and lordly warriors, who looked with supreme contempt upon all civilized methods of obtaining a living, and who felt amply able to defend themselves and avenge their wrongs. nothing special has been discovered to have taken place other than the general dissatisfaction referred to, to which the outbreak of can be immediately attributed. this outbreak was charged to emissaries from the confederates of the south, but there was no foundation for these allegations. the main reason was that the indians were hungry and angry; they had become restless, and busy-bodies among them had instilled within them the idea that the great war in the south was drawing off able-bodied men and leaving the women and children at home helpless. some of the ambitious chiefs thought it a good opportunity to regain their lost country and exalt themselves in the eyes of their people. the most ambitious of the lot was little crow, the old chief we saw sitting in the shade of his wigwam on devil's lake. he was a wily old fox and knew how to enlist the braves on his side. after the battles of birch coolie and wood lake, minnesota, in september, , he deserted his warriors, and was discovered one day down in the settlements picking berries upon which to subsist. refusing to surrender, he was shot, and in his death the whites were relieved of an implacable foe, and the indians deprived of an intrepid and daring leader. there was nothing about the agencies up to august , , to indicate that the indians intended, or even thought, of an attack. everything had an appearance of quiet and security. on the th of august, however, a small party of indians appeared at acton, minnesota, and murdered several settlers, but it was not generally thought that they left the agency with this in mind; this killing was an afterthought, a diversion; but, on the news of these murders reaching the indians at the upper agency on the th, open hostilities were at once commenced and the whites and traders indiscriminately murdered. george spencer was the only white man in the stores who escaped with his life. he was twice wounded, however, and running upstairs in the loft hid himself away and remained concealed until the indians, thinking no more white people remained, left the place, when an old squaw took spencer to her home and kept him until his fast friend, chaska, came and took him under his protection. the picture of spencer is taken from an old-time photograph. [illustration: george spencer, who was saved by chaska, august, .] the missionaries residing a short distance above the yellow medicine, and their people, with a few others, were notified by friendly disposed indians, and to the number of about forty made their escape to hutchinson, minnesota. similar events occurred at the lower agency on the same day, when nearly all the traders were butchered, and several who got away before the general massacre commenced were killed before reaching fort ridgely, thirteen miles below, or the other places of safety to which they were fleeing. all the buildings at both agencies were destroyed, but such property as was valuable to the indians was carried off. the news of the outbreak reached fort ridgely about o'clock a. m. on the th of august through the arrival of a team from the lower agency, which brought a citizen badly wounded, but no details. captain john f. marsh, of the fifth minnesota, with eighty-five men, was holding the fort, and upon the news reaching him he transferred his command of the fort to lieutenant gere and with forty-five men started for the scene of hostilities. he had a full supply of ammunition, and with a six-mule team left the fort at a. m. on the th of august, full of courage and anxious to get to the relief of the panic-stricken people. on the march up, evidences of the indians' bloody work soon appeared, for bodies were found by the roadside of those who had recently been murdered, one of whom was dr. humphrey, surgeon at the agency. on reaching the vicinity of the ferry no indians were in sight except one on the opposite side of the river, who endeavored to induce the soldiers to cross. a dense chaparral bordered the river on the agency side and tall grass covered the bottom land on the side where the troops were stationed. from various signs, suspicions were aroused of the presence of indians, and the suspicions proved correct, for without a moment's notice, indians in great numbers sprang up on all sides of the troops and opened a deadly fire. about half of the men were instantly killed. finding themselves surrounded, desperate hand-to-hand encounters occurred, with varying results, and the remnant of the command made a point down the river about two miles from the ferry, captain marsh being among the number. they evidently attempted to cross, but captain marsh was drowned in the effort, and only thirteen of his command escaped and reached the fort alive. captain marsh, in his excitement, may have erred in judgment and deemed it more his duty to attack than retreat; but the great odds of five hundred indians to forty-five soldiers was too great and the captain and his brave men paid the penalty. he was young, brave and ambitious and knew but little of the indians' tactics in war; but he no doubt believed he was doing his duty in advancing rather than retreating, and his countrymen will hold his memory and the memory of those who gave up their lives with him in warmer esteem than they would had he adopted the more prudent course of retracing his steps. at a later date, in , it will be remembered, the brave custer was led into a similar trap, and of the five companies of the seventh united states cavalry and their intrepid commanders only one was left to tell the tale. after having massacred the people at the agencies, the indians at once sent out marauding parties in all directions and covered the country from the northeast as far as glencoe, hutchinson and st. peter, minnesota, and as far south as spirit lake, iowa. in their trail was to be found their deadly work of murder and devastation, for at least one thousand men, women and children were found brutally butchered, houses burned, and beautiful farms laid waste. the settlers, being accustomed to the friendly visits of these indians, were taken completely unawares and were given no opportunity for defense. major thomas galbraith, the sioux agent, had raised a company known as the renville rangers, and was expecting to report at fort snelling for muster and orders to proceed south to join one of the minnesota commands; but upon his arrival at st. peter, on the evening of august , he learned the news of the outbreak at the agencies, and immediately retraced his steps, returning to fort ridgely, where he arrived on the th. on the same day lieutenant sheehan, of the fifth minnesota infantry, with fifty men, arrived also, in obedience to a dispatch received from captain marsh, who commanded the post at fort ridgely. lieutenant sheehan, in enthusiasm and appearance, resembled general sheridan. he was young and ambitious, and entered into this important work with such vim as to inspire his men to deeds of heroic valor. upon receipt of captain marsh's dispatch ordering him to return at once, as "the indians are raising hell at the lower agency!" he so inspired his men so as to make the forced march of forty-two miles in nine hours and a half, and he did not arrive a minute too soon. after captain marsh's death he became the ranking officer at fort ridgely, and the mantle of authority could not fall on more deserving shoulders. his command consisted of companies b and c of the fifth minnesota, men; renville rangers, men; with several men of other organizations, including sergeant john jones (afterwards captain of artillery), and quite a number of citizen refugees, and a party that had been sent up by the indian agent with the money to pay the indians at the agency. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. siege of fort ridgely, august , and . indians fired the fort with burning arrows, but were finally defeated by general sibley's column.] chapter ix. fort ridgely besieged. fort ridgely was a fort in name only. it was not built for defense, but was simply a collection of buildings built around a square facing inwards. the commandant's quarters, and those of the officers, also, were two-story structures of wood, while the men's barracks of two stories and the commissary storehouse were stone, and into these the families of the officers and soldiers and the refugee families were placed during the siege. on the th of august, , about p. m., an attack was made upon the fort by a large body of indians, who stealthily came down the ravines and surrounded it. the first intimation the people and the garrison had of their proximity was a volley from the hostile muskets pouring between the openings of the buildings. the sudden onslaught caused great consternation, but order was soon restored. sergeant jones, of the battery, who had seen service in the british army, as well as in our own regular army, in attempting to turn his guns on the indians found to his utter astonishment that the pieces had been tampered with by some of the half-breeds belonging to the renville rangers who had deserted to the enemy. they had spiked the guns by ramming old rags into them. the sergeant soon made them serviceable, however, and brought his pieces to bear upon the indians in such an effective way as to teach them a lesson in artillery practice they did not forget. the "rotten balls," as they termed the shells, fell thick and fast among them, and the havoc was so great that they withdrew out of range to hold a council of war and recover from their surprise. the fight lasted, however, for three hours, with a loss to the garrison of three killed and eighteen wounded. on the morning of thursday, the st of august, the attack was renewed by the indians, and they made a second attack in the afternoon, but with less force and earnestness and but little damage to the garrison. the soldiers were on the alert and the night was an anxious one, for the signs from the hostiles indicated that they were making preparations for a further attempt to capture the fort. during the night barricades were placed at all open spaces between the buildings, and the little garrison band instructed, each man's duty specified, and directions given to the women and children, who were placed in the stone barracks, to lie low so as not to be harmed by bullets coming in at the windows. on friday, the d, little crow, the then sioux commander in chief, had the fort surrounded by warriors whom he had brought down from the agency. he had them concealed in the ravines which surrounded the fort, and endeavored by sending a few of the warriors out on the open prairie to draw the garrison out from the fort, but fortunately there were men there who had previously had experience in indian warfare, and the scheme of this wily old indian fox did not work. little crow, finding it useless to further maneuver in this way, ordered an attack. the showers of bullets continued for seven long hours, or until about p. m., but the attack was courageously and bitterly opposed by the infantry, and this, together with the skillfully handled artillery by sergeant jones, saved the garrison for another day. the indians sought shelter behind and in the outlying wooden buildings, but well directed shells from the battery fired these buildings and routed the indians, who in turn made various attempts by means of fire arrows to ignite the wooden buildings of the fort proper. but for the daring and vigilance of the troops the enemy would have succeeded in their purpose. the indians lost heavily in this engagement, while the loss to the troops was one killed and seven wounded. lieutenant sheehan, the commander of the post, was a man of true grit, and he was ably assisted by lieutenant gorman of the renville rangers, and sergeants jones and mcgrau of the battery. every man was a hero and did his whole duty. surrounded as they were by hundreds of bloodthirsty savages, this little band was all that stood between the hundreds of women and children refugees and certain death, or worse than death! besides, the government storehouses were filled with army supplies, and about $ , in gold, with which they intended making an annuity payment to these same indians. the water supply being cut off, the soldiers and all the people, especially the wounded, suffered severely, but post surgeon mueller and his noble wife heroically responded to the urgent calls of the wounded sufferers irrespective of danger. mrs. mueller was a lovely woman of the heroic type. during the siege, in addition to caring for the wounded, she made coffee, and in the night frequently visited all the men who were on guard and plentifully supplied them with this exhilarating beverage. an incident in relation to her also is, that during the siege the indians had sheltered themselves behind a haystack and from it were doing deadly work. sergeant jones could not bring his twenty-four pounder to bear on them without exposing his men too much, unless he fired directly through a building that stood in the way. this house was built as they are on the plantations in the south, with a broad hall running from the front porch clear through to the rear. in the rear of this hall were rough double doors, closed principally in winter time to keep the snow from driving through. the sergeant had them closed and then brought his piece around in front, and the indians away back of the house could not see what the maneuvering was. he crept up and attached a rope to the handle of the door, and looking through the cracks got the range and then sighted his gun. mrs. mueller, sheltered and out of harm's way, held the end of the attached rope. the signal for her to pull open the doors was given by sergeant jones, and this signal was the dropping of a handkerchief. when the signal came, with good nerve, she pulled the rope and open flew the doors. immediately the gunner pulled the lanyard and the shell with lighted fuse landed in the haystacks, which were at once set fire to and the indians dislodged. this lady died at her post, beloved by all who knew her, and a grateful government has erected an expensive monument over her remains, which lie buried in the soldiers' cemetery at fort ridgely, where, with hundreds of others whose pathway to the grave was smoothed by her motherly hands, they will remain until the great reveille on the resurrection dawn. [illustration: little crow.] chapter x. siege of new ulm. little crow, finding himself baffled in his attempt to capture the fort, and learning from his scouts that colonel sibley was on his way with two regiments to relieve the garrison, concentrated all his forces and proceeded to new ulm, about thirteen miles distant, which he intended to wipe out the next morning. here, again, he was disappointed. the hero of new ulm was hon. charles e. flandreau, who deserves more than a passing notice. by profession he is a lawyer, and at this time was a judge on the bench, and is now enjoying a lucrative practice in st. paul. by nature he is an organizer and a leader, and to his intrepid bravery and wise judgment new ulm and her inhabitants owe their salvation from the savagery of little crow and his bloodthirsty followers. he had received the news of the outbreak at his home near st. peter in the early morning of august , and at once decided what should be done to save the people. his duty to wife and children was apparent, and to place them in safety was his first thought, which he did by taking them to st. peter. he then issued a call for volunteers, and in response to this soon found himself surrounded by men who needed no second bidding, for the very air was freighted with the terror of the situation. armed with guns of any and all descriptions, with bottles of powder, boxes of caps and pockets filled with bullets, one hundred and twenty men, determined on revenge, pressed forward to meet this terrible foe. where should they go? rumors came from all directions, and one was that fort ridgely was being besieged and had probably already fallen. their eyes also turned toward new ulm, which was but thirteen miles distant and in an absolutely unprotected condition. its affrighted people were at the mercy of this relentless enemy. the work judge flandreau performed in perfecting an organization was masterful, for the men who flocked in and offered their services he could not control in a military sense, because they were not enlisted. the emergency was very great and it was necessary to do the right thing and at the right time and to strike hard and deadly blows, and trusted men were sent forward to scout and report. hon. henry a. swift, afterwards governor of minnesota, rendered good service in company with william g. hayden as they scouted the country in a buggy. it was a novel way to scout, but horses were too scarce to allow a horse to each. an advance guard was sent forward about noon, and an hour later the balance of the command was in motion, eagerly pushing forward and anxious to meet the enemy wherever he might be found. the advance guard which flandreau sent out to determine whether fort ridgely or new ulm should be the objective point had not yet been heard from, and, that no time might be lost, he determined that he would push forward to new ulm, and if that village was safe he would turn his attention to ridgely. he found his guard at new ulm, and they had been largely reinforced by other men who came in to help protect the place. they arrived just in time to assist in repelling an attack of about two hundred indians, who had suddenly surrounded the little village. before the arrival of flandreau and his command they could see the burning houses in the distance, and by this they knew that the work of devastation had commenced, and the forced march was kept up. the rain was pouring in torrents, and yet they had made thirty-two miles in seven hours and reached the place about o'clock in the evening. the next day reinforcements continued to come in from various points until the little army of occupation numbered three hundred effective and determined men. a council of war was called and a line of defense determined upon by throwing up barricades in nearly all the streets. the situation was a very grave one and it was soon apparent that a one-man power was necessary--that a guiding mind must control the actions of this hastily gathered army of raw material; and to this end, judge flandreau was declared generalissimo, and subsequent events proved that the selection was a most judicious one. in a few days subsequent to this he received a commission as colonel from governor ramsey and was placed in command of all irregular troops. there were fifty companies reported to him all told; some were mounted and others were not. his district extended from new ulm, minnesota, to sioux city, iowa. it was a most important command, and colonel flandreau proved himself a hero as well as a competent organizer. he is so modest about it even to-day that he rarely refers to it. a provost guard was at once established, order inaugurated, defenses strengthened and confidence partially restored. nothing serious transpired until saturday morning at about o'clock, when indians, who had been so handsomely repulsed at fort ridgely, thirteen miles above, made a determined assault upon the town, driving in the pickets. the lines faltered for a time, but soon rallied and steadily held the enemy at bay. the indians had surrounded the town and commenced firing the buildings, and the conflagration was soon raging on both sides of the main street in the lower part of the town, and the total destruction of the place seemed inevitable. it was necessary to dislodge the enemy in some way, so a squad of fifty men was ordered out to charge down the burning street, and the indians were driven out. the soldiers then burned everything and the battle was won. the desperate character of the fighting may be judged when we find the casualties to be ten men killed and fifty wounded in about an hour and a half, and this out of a much depleted force, for out of the little army of three hundred men, seventy-five who had been sent under lieutenant huey to guard the ferry were cut off and forced to retreat towards st. peter. before reaching this place, however, they met reinforcements and returned to the attack. the indians now, in turn, seeing quite a reinforcement coming, thought it wise to retreat, and drew off to the northward, in the direction of the fort, and disappeared. the little town of new ulm at this time contained from , to , non-combatants, consisting of women and children, refugees and unarmed citizens, every individual of whom would have been massacred if it had not been for this brave band of men under the command of colonel flandreau. not knowing what the retreat of the indians indicated, the uncertainty and scarcity of provisions, the pestilence to be feared from stench and exposure, all combined to bring about the decision to evacuate the town and try to reach mankato. in order to do this a train was made up, into which were loaded the women and children and about eighty wounded men. it was a sad sight to witness this enforced breaking up of home ties, homes burned and farms and gardens laid waste, loved ones dead and wounded, and this one of the inevitable results of an unnecessary and unprovoked war. the march to mankato was without special incident. especially fortunate was this little train of escaping people in not meeting any wandering party of hostile indians. the first day about half the distance from mankato to st. peter was covered; the main column was pushed on to its final destination, it being the intention of colonel flandreau to return with a portion of his command to new ulm, or remain where they were, so as to keep a force between the indians and the settlements. but the men of his command, not having heard a word from their families for over a week, felt apprehensive and refused to return or remain, holding that the protection of their families was paramount to all other considerations. it must be remembered that these men were not soldiers, but had demonstrated their willingness to fight when necessary, and they did fight, and left many of their comrades dead and wounded on the battlefield. the train that had been sent forward arrived in mankato on the th of august, and the balance of the command reached the town on the day following, when the men sought their homes. the stubborn resistance the indians met with at fort ridgely and new ulm caused them to withdraw to their own country, and this temporary lull in hostilities enabled the whites to more thoroughly organize, and the troops to prepare for a campaign up into the yellow medicine country, where it was known a large number of captives were held. [illustration: colonel charles e. flandreau, who was in command at new ulm, minn., during the siege from august th to th, .] chapter xi. col. flandreau in command. while the exciting events narrated in the previous chapters were taking place other portions of the state were preparing for defense. at forest city, hutchinson, glencoe, and even as far south as st. paul and minneapolis, men were rapidly organizing for home protection. in addition to the sioux, the chippewas and winnebagoes were becoming affected and seemed anxious for a pretext to don the paint and take the warpath. colonel flandreau having received his commission as colonel from governor ramsey, with authority to take command of the blue earth country extending from new ulm to the iowa line, embracing the western and southwestern frontier of the state, proceeded at once to properly organize troops, commission officers, and do everything in his power as a military officer to give protection to the citizens. the colonel established his headquarters at south bend and the home guards came pouring in, reporting for duty, and squads that had been raised and mustered into the volunteer service, but had not yet joined their commands, were organized into companies, and the colonel soon found himself surrounded by quite an army of good men, well officered, and with a determination to do their whole duty. this was done by establishing a cordon of military posts so as to inspire confidence and prevent an exodus of the people. any one who has not been through the ordeal of an indian insurrection can form no idea of the terrible apprehension that takes possession of a defenseless and non-combatant people under such circumstances. the mystery and suspense attending an indian's movements, and the certainty of the cruelty to his captives, strikes terror to the heart, and upon the first crack of his rifle a thousand are put to flight. while cruelty is one of the natural characteristics of the indians, yet there are many among them who have humane feelings and are susceptible of christian influences. as friends, they are of the truest; but the thoughtless cry out as did the enemies of our savior: "crucify him! crucify him!" other day, standing buffalo, chaska and old betz were as true and as good people as ever lived, and yet they are held responsible for the atrocities of their savage brethren. at the risk of their own lives they warned hundreds of people and guided them by night, and hid them by day, until finally they reached a place of safety. at the hostile camp, where they had over four hundred women and children, it was only through the influence of these and other sturdy friendly chiefs that any lives were saved. they had to even throw barricades around their tepees and watch day and night until the soldiers came, giving notice that whoever raised hand to harm these defenseless people would do it at their peril. when we know of these kind acts, let us pause a moment before we say there are no good indians. it was a study to look at some of these old dusky heroes, who said nothing but thought much, and who had determined that, come what would, harm should not come to the captives. there were statesmen, too, among them; men wise in council, who had respect for their great father at washington, who were cognizant of the fact that much dissatisfaction was engendered among their people by occurrences taking place at the time of the negotiation for the treaties. they counselled their people, and no doubt tried hard to induce them to forsake their desire for vengeance on the whites, and thus retard the progress they were making for their offspring toward civilization and a better manner of living. you might properly ask here: "what became of the friendly indians while the hostiles were on the warpath?" some of them forgot their friendly feelings and, like the whisky victim, when they got a taste of blood, they wanted more! they were all forced by the hostiles to don their war paint and breech-cloth, and go with them against the whites, and they were wise enough to know that it was folly to resist. their main object was to prevent the wholesale murder of the captives, for when hostilities opened, they knew if they did not go, every woman and child in the captive camp would be murdered; and the friendlies would be blamed as much as the hostiles themselves. [illustration: mrs. eastlick and children.] chapter xii. mrs. eastlick and family. the note of alarm sounded throughout the neighborhood and without a moment's warning hurried preparations were made for the exodus. women and children and a few household goods were loaded into wagons and a start made for a place of safety. indians suddenly appeared and commenced an indiscriminate fire upon the terror-stricken refugees. the individual cases of woman's heroism, daring, bravery, cunning and strong-willed self-sacrifice, could be recounted by the score, and in some instances are past belief. their achievements would be considered as pure fiction but for our own personal knowledge. many of the real occurrences would seem like legends, when the father had been murdered and the mother left with two, three and even five and six children to care for, and if possible save them from the ferocity of the painted red devils, whose thirst for blood could seemingly not be satiated. one noted case was the eastlick family, and this was only one of a hundred. eleven men of the party had already been killed, and mr. eastlick among the number. the women with their children were scattered in all directions in the brush, to escape if possible the inevitable fate in store for them if caught. the indians shouted to them to come out from their hiding places and surrender and they should be spared. the remaining men, thinking perhaps their lives might be saved if they surrendered, urged their wives to do so, and the men would, if possible, escape and give the alarm. thus, without a word or a look lest they should betray the remaining husbands, were these women driven from their natural protectors and obliged to submit to the tender mercies of their hated red captors. the supposed dead husbands watched the receding forms of their devoted wives, whom in all likelihood they never would see again. burton eastlick, the fifteen-year-old boy, could not endure the thought of leaving his mother to this uncertain fate, and he followed her, but she persuaded him, for the sake of his fifteen-months-old baby brother, to leave her and try and make his escape, carrying the little one with him. and how well did he execute his mission. the indians fired upon the little group and mrs. eastlick fell, wounded in three places, and the boy ran away, supposing his mother dead; but she revived, and crawled to where her wounded husband and six-year-old boy were, to find both dead. can you picture such a scene or imagine what the feelings of this poor mother must be under these awful circumstances? sublime silence reigning over earth and sky, and she alone with her dead! what a parting must that have been from husband and child--death and desolation complete. could she look to her god? a heart of faith so sorely tried, and yet she said: "i am in his hands; surely i must trust him, for i am yet alive, and two precious children, burton and little baby, are fleeing to a place of safety." this heroic boy, burton, seeing his mother shot, and supposed to be dead, and watching the life flicker and the spirit of his six-year-old brother pass away, placed the dear little body beside that of his father, and with a bravery born of an heroic nature he accepted his charge, and with the injunction of his precious, dying mother still ringing in his ears, made preparations to start. it seemed an herculean effort, but the brave boy said: "we may yet be saved!" so, pressing his baby brother close to his heart, he took a last look upon the faces of his dear father, mother and six-year-old brother and started. ninety miles, thick with dangers, lay before our young hero; but he faltered not. when tired carrying his little brother in his arms he took him on his back. the first day he made sixteen miles, and in ten consecutive days covered sixty miles. he lived on corn and such food as he could find in deserted houses. at night his bed was the earth, his pillow a stone, and the sky his only covering, the bright stars acting as nightly sentinels over him, as weary, he and his little baby charge slept. if angels have a duty to perform, surely troops of them must have hovered around. he fed the little brother as best he could to appease his hunger and covered him as with angel wings to protect the little trembling body from the chilly night air. brave boy! the pages of history furnish nothing more noble than this deed, and if you yet live, what a consolation, what a proud reflection, to know that there never before was witnessed a deed more deserving of immortal fame. "thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night, nor for the arrow that flyeth by day." the resolute mother, badly wounded and left for dead, revived. she looked upon the face of her dead husband and little boy, and with sublime courage started for a place of safety. at the risk of being discovered and murdered--hungry, tired, with wounds undressed and a heavy, aching heart and deathly sick, she was obliged to lie by for some time, after which she again started, and for ten days and nights this poor sorrow-stricken woman traveled on her weary way. providence led her in the path of a mail carrier on a route from sioux falls city, in dakota, to new ulm, minnesota. he had formerly known her, but in her emaciated, jaded, pitiful condition the change was so great he did not recognize her. at new ulm she found her children, where they were being kindly cared for, having been found in the tall grass nearly dead from exposure and starvation. thus the remaining portion of the family were reunited on earth, and it is proper to here draw the curtain and allow them a few moments for communion, that the fountain of the heart which had been dried up by the awful occurrences of the previous few days might unbidden flow. the mother's heart was nearly crushed with the thought of husband and child--victims of the ferocious indians, killed and yet unburied on the prairie nearly one hundred miles away; but, mother-like, she rejoiced in finding the two children who had wandered so far and through a kind providence escaped so many dangers. [illustration: escape of the missionaries.] chapter xiii. the missionaries--their escape. a few miles above the yellow medicine were the churches and schools of the rev. s. r. riggs and dr. williamson. both of these gentlemen had long been missionaries among the indians and had gained their confidence; and in return had placed the most implicit confidence in them. but these good men had been warned to flee for their lives, and they reluctantly gathered together a few household treasures, and placing themselves and families under the guidance of providence, started for a place of safety. fort ridgely was their objective point, but they learned that the place was being besieged and that it would be unsafe to proceed further in this direction, so turned their weary steps toward henderson, minnesota. with courage braced up, weary in body and anxious in mind, they went into camp until the morning. "the pillar of cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night," guided this anxious band through a most trying and perilous journey, but they gained the settlement at last and were among friends. in leaving their little homes, where they had found so much pleasure in the work of the master, in pointing the indians to a better way of living, they were sorrowful; but, like abraham of old, faithful in their allegiance to god, not daring to question his ways in compelling them to turn their backs upon their chosen work--his work. the missionaries and teachers formed strong attachments among this dusky race. in their communion with them they found them ready and eager to converse about the great spirit and to learn of the wonderful things taught in the bible. they loved to sing, and the melody of sacred song found a responsive chord in their souls as they were gradually emerging from their barbarous condition, and coming into the full light of a christian salvation. in conversation with the writer, mr. riggs once said that as he was passing one of their happy little homes he could hear the squaw mother, in her peculiar plaintive tones, singing to her little children: "jesus christ, nitowashte kin woptecashni mayaqu"-- jesus christ, thy loving kindness, boundlessly, thou givest me. she had become a christian mother through the teachings of the missionaries. her maternal affection was as deep and abiding as in the breast of her more favored white sister, and her eye of faith looked beyond the stars to the happy hunting ground, where the greater spirit abides, and with the assurance that some day she and all her race would stand with the redeemed in the presence of the judge of all the worlds. the christian missionary felt for these people as no one else could; and, while not trying nor desiring to excuse them for their unholy war against the whites, yet they could not persuade themselves to believe that they had been justly dealt with by civilized america. [illustration: little paul.] chapter xiv. the indian pow-wow. the indians of the various tribes of the upper and lower sioux--the sissitons, the tetons, the yanktons and the yanktonnais and other tribes held a pow-wow to try and force a conclusion of the war, and some of their ablest men, their statesmen, were present, and their views you have here verbatim. more decorum prevailed among them, and they were more deliberate than is observed in the average white man's convention. little crow had his supporters present, and a very fluent yanktonnais sioux traced on the ground a map of the country, showing the course of the missouri river and the locality of the different forts. he marked out the mountains, seas and oceans, and stated that an army, great in numbers, was coming from across the country to assist them. this gave rise to the unfounded rumor referred to in another chapter, that emissaries from the south were among them to incite them to war. john paul, or little paul, was friendly to the whites, and in a speech to the indians at this pow-wow said: "i am friendly to the whites, and will deliver these women and children at fort ridgely. i am opposed to the war on the whites. you say you are brave men, and can whip the whites. that is a lie--persons who cut women and children's throats are not brave. you are squaws and cowards. fight the whites if you want to, but do it like brave men. i am ashamed of the way you have acted towards the captives; and, if any of you have the feelings of men, you will give them up. you may look fierce at me, but i am not afraid of you." red iron, one of the chiefs of the upper indians, was not friendly. he was one of the principal chiefs of the sissitons, and at one time was so outspoken against the whites that governor ramsey, who was then superintendent of indian affairs, and was at the agency, had occasion to rebuke him in a substantial way--he reduced him to the ranks. in other words, he broke him of his chieftianship. this was in december, . red iron was a handsome indian, an athlete, six feet in his moccasins, with a large, well-developed head, aquiline nose, thin lips, but with intelligence and resolution beaming all over his countenance. [illustration: red iron.] when brought into the presence of governor ramsey he walked with a firm, lordly tread, and was clad in half military and half indian costume. when he came in he seated himself in silence, which was not broken until through an interpreter the governor asked him what excuse he had to offer for not coming to the council when sent for. red iron, when he arose to his feet to reply, did so with a chesterfieldian grace, allowing his blanket to fall from his shoulders, and, intentionally dropping his pipe of peace. he stood before the governor for a moment in silence, with his arms folded, his bearing betraying perfect self-composure, a defiant smile playing upon his lips. in a firm voice he said: red iron--"i started to come, but your braves drove me back." governor--"what excuse have you for not coming the second time i sent for you?" red iron--"no other excuse than i have already given you." when the governor, as commissioner of indian affairs, informed this proud chief that, by virtue of his office, he would break him of his chieftianship it appealed to his pride, and he said: "you break me? i was elected chief by my tribe. you can't break me." the chief, while surrendering to the powers that be, never felt friendly to the whites, and during this war of which we write he continued stubborn and sullen to the end. standing buffalo, hereditary chief of the sissitons, was a different type, and counselled living in peace, but desired fair treatment and honest dealings with his people. he was a handsome indian, and a man of rare ability. general sibley was anxious to know how he felt on the important question agitating the sioux nation, and desired his co-operation in liberating the captives and compassing the capture of little crow and his followers. at this indian convention this noted chief said: [illustration: standing buffalo.] "i am a young man, but i have always felt friendly toward the whites, because they were kind to my father. you have brought me into great danger without my knowledge of it beforehand. by killing the whites, it is just as if you had waited for me in ambush and shot me down. you lower indians feel bad because we have all got into this trouble; but i feel worse, because i know that neither i nor my people have killed any of the whites, and that yet we have to suffer with the guilty. i was out buffalo hunting when i heard of the outbreak, and i felt as if i was dead, and i feel so now. you all know that the indians cannot live without the aid of the white man, and, therefore, i have made up my mind that paul is right, and my indians will stand by him. we claim this reservation. what are you doing here? if you want to fight the whites, go back and fight them. leave my village at big stone lake. you sent word to my young men to come down, and that you had plenty of oxen, horses, goods, powder and lead, and now we see nothing. we are going back to big stone lake and leave you to fight the whites. those who make peace can say that standing buffalo and his people will give themselves up in the spring." they kept their word, and would have nothing to do with little crow. standing buffalo was killed in by an accident. other day, a civilized indian, in addressing the council at this time, said: "you can, of course, easily kill a few unarmed whites, but it would be a cowardly thing to do, because we have gained their confidence, and the innocent will suffer with the guilty, and the great father at washington will send his soldiers to punish you, and we will all suffer. i will not join you in this, but will help defend these white people who have always been our friends." other day was a true friend of the whites; he looked it. he was a full-blood indian, it is true, and the indians respected and feared him, but his desire to forsake the barbarous teachings of his father inclined him towards the unsuspecting settlers. in he was general sibley's most trusted and confidential scout. in the early outbreak other day manifested his loyalty to his white friends by risking his life in their defense, piloting sixty people through the river bottoms during the nights to a place of safety. he traveled with his charge in the night, and hid them in underbrush during the daytime. he was a true-hearted, kind man, with a red skin, who has gone to his reward in a land where there are no reds, no blacks, but where all are white. little crow, who is one of the principal characters in this narrative, was an indian of no mean ability. he was the commander-in-chief of the hostile tribes, and wielded a powerful influence among all the tribes of this great sioux nation. he was a powerful man, and felt his lordly position; was confident of final success, and very defiant at the outset. he had a penchant for notoriety in more ways than one. in dress he was peculiar, and could nearly always be found with some parts of a white man's clothing. he was particularly conspicuous in the style of collar he wore; happy in the possession of one of the old-style standing collars, such as daniel webster and other old-time gentlemen bedecked themselves with. he also possessed a black silk neckerchief and a black frock coat, and on grand occasions wore both. he had strongly marked features, and in studying the lineaments of his face one would not adjudge him a particularly bad indian. as we had hundreds of these men in our custody, a good opportunity was offered while guarding them to try one's gift as a reader of character as stamped in the face, but little crow proved an enigma. it was like a novice trying to separate good money from bad, an unprofitable and unsuccessful task. little crow said: "it is impossible to make peace if we so desired. did we ever do the most trifling thing, the whites would hang us. now, we have been killing them by the hundreds in dakota, minnesota and iowa, and i know if they get us into their hands they will hang every one of us. as for me, i will kill as many of them as i can, and fight them till i die. do not think you will escape. there is not a band of indians from the redwood agency to big stone lake that has not had some of its members embroiled in this war. i tell you we must fight and perish together. a man is a fool and coward who thinks otherwise, and who will desert his nation at such a time. disgrace not yourselves by a surrender to those who will hang you up like dogs; but die, if die you must, with arms in your hands, like warriors and braves of the dakotas." in one of our battles we took some fine-looking bucks prisoners, and the soldiers were for scalping them at once, but we had a little "pow-wow" with them, and found them intelligent and well educated; they were students home on a vacation from bishop whipple's school at faribault, minnesota, and said they were forced, much against their will, to go on the warpath; that they had not fired a bullet at the whites; that they fired blank cartridges because they felt friendly to the whites, and had no desire to kill them. there were three of them; we told them they could take their choice--be shot or enlist; they chose the latter, and went south with us, staying until the close of the rebellion, and they displayed the courage of the born soldier. [illustration: brevet major general h. h. sibley, commander in the field in and against the sioux indians.] chapter xv. gov. sibley appointed commander. while these scenes which i have related were being enacted in the upper country excitement ran high at st. paul, and for a time the great struggle then going on in the south was forgotten. the news of the outbreak soon reached st. paul, and couriers, with horses covered with foam, kept coming in one after another, until the officers at fort snelling were ordered by governor ramsey to be in readiness with their men to move at a moment's notice, and we did not have long to wait. the sixth minnesota, of which i was a member, had just organized, and was assigned to hancock corps, army of the potomac, but the events transpiring in the indian country made it necessary for all available troops to go there. when i say that the whole country was seething with excitement it is no exaggeration. the towns, big and little, were filled with frightened refugees; the rumors that came in were of the most frightful nature, and the whole state was clamorous for protection. governor ramsey, in his desire to protect the panic-stricken people and liberate the captives, cast about for a suitable commander for this important work. of all the men in and about st. paul who seemed eminently qualified for this position, governor henry h. sibley, who at that time was living in quietude in his home in mendota, just across the river from the fort, was his choice. governor henry hastings sibley, the hero of these indian campaigns, was born in the city of detroit february , . his sire was chief justice solomon sibley, of detroit, and his mother was sarah whipple sproat, whose father, colonel ebenezer sproat, was an accomplished officer of the continental army, and the granddaughter of commodore abraham whipple, an illustrious commander in the continental navy. he came from a long line of illustrious ancestry on both sides, of good puritan stock, and dating his lineage back to the sibleys of william the conqueror of england in the fifteenth century. he was not a fighter; his heart was too tender for that, but he felt the weighty responsibility he had assumed when he consented to lead the soldiers and save the lives of the captives. for delaying he was denounced on all hands. the press denounced him for not falling immediately upon the indians; but he knew the enemy better than his censors. if he had heeded the behests of the clamorous people not a captive would have been spared; but to-day hundreds live to bless him for his cautious, conservative movements. until his death, which occurred but a few months since, he lived in his beautiful home in st. paul; and, although a half century of winters in the far northwest had whitened his head, and a great deal more than a half century of time had made his limbs tremble, neither time nor frost had sapped the citadel of his mind. he was a member of aker post, no. , department of minnesota, and the comrades, in deference to his declining years, went in a body to his beautiful home where he was mustered in. he lived in peace and plenty, surrounded by his family and friends, who esteemed him for his worth. he passed away respected and regretted by a host of friends throughout the land, who knew him as a citizen and a soldier. i knew him personally and intimately since ; and in his death, with others great in our nation's history, we are reminded that in war the bullet is no respecter of rank; the commander and the soldier fall together. governor sibley was commissioned by governor ramsey as colonel of volunteers, and assigned to the command of the expedition. he was selected because he had spent many years of his life among the indians as a trader, he spoke their language, he knew them personally, and knew their characteristics. he was a man of large experience, education and ability, and possessed, withal, a cool head. he knew the indians, and they knew him and respected him. he consented to lead the forces against the indians when appealed to by governor ramsey, upon conditions that he should not be interfered with by his excellency, or any one else, and that he should have adequate supplies of men, stores and transportation. colonel sibley, afterwards brigadier and brevet major-general of volunteers, with his staff and companies a, b, and e, of the sixth minnesota infantry, embarked on a small steamer then at anchor near the fort, and steamed up the minnesota river to shakopee, distant about forty miles by water. we started in a furious rain, and after a slow trip up the narrow and winding minnesota, arrived at shakopee, where we found the frightened citizens ready to receive us with open arms, although all the firearms we had were worthless and condemned austrian rifles, without ammunition to fit them. all serviceable material of war had been shipped to the south. our first guard duty was on picket in the suburbs of shakopee, and our instructions were to press all teams into the service. we felt the gravity of the situation, and obeyed orders to the letter as nearly as we, raw recruits, could. while here the news was spread that indians were in the vicinity, and the women and children began to flock to the vicinity of the soldiers; the alarm was without foundation. as we were stationed on the various roads leading to and from the town, the citizens who had been so badly scared seemed to feel comparatively safe. the news from the upper country, however, was discouraging, and appeals for protection very urgent. we could not move at once from lack of transportation, and had no adequate supplies, either of food, arms or ammunition, for we had been so hurriedly dispatched from fort snelling that only about half of one company had been supplied with even the worthless muskets spoken of, and the whole command with but two days' rations. it was necessary, however, to make some quick demonstration to appease the panic-stricken people. after a delay of one day, by various routes by land and water, the regiment concentrated at st. peter, under command of colonel william crooks, where it was inspected and remained four or five days, awaiting the receipt of suitable arms and ammunition and also reinforcements. our guns were so absolutely worthless that it was necessary to delay a little, as the indians, in large numbers, were then besieging fort ridgely, and were well armed with springfield rifles, while our own arms were condemned austrian muskets. we embarked on a boat at shakopee and sailed up to carver, forty miles above, and there pressed in teams to carry us through what was known as the "big woods." it had been raining for days, and the town of carver was literally packed with refugees. there was not an empty building in it, even the warehouses were filled, and the muddy streets were a sight to behold. the mud was ankle deep, and you may imagine in what condition everything was. i cannot describe it. the frightened people, who had flocked in from all the country round, told most woeful tales of indian atrocities. in some cases they were overdrawn, but later on we saw evidences enough to warrant them fleeing to a place of safety. there was no safety, however, in coming to these small towns, for they were without protection. after loading up the teams, we started through the "big woods," and the roads were in such a horrible condition that we made but slow progress. however, we had to make glencoe, twenty-five miles distant, before night or camp down in the woods in the mud. it became pitchy dark, but we kept on the move, and in time got through the woods and could see the lights of glencoe afar off. this was only a small place, but the twinkling lights from the houses were a pleasant sight, and when we arrived there the people were glad to see us. we remained over night, and the next day started for st. peter. we could see evidences of indian devastation in every direction, among which were the burning buildings and grain stacks on the beautiful neighboring farms. on the route to st. peter, which we reached early in the evening, we discovered a few dead settlers, and took some families along with us. upon our arrival we went into camp with the rest of the command, and were soon placed under strict military discipline, and in a brief time our commander, colonel william crooks, a west pointer, brought order out of chaos. of the preparation and forward march to relieve fort ridgely i will reserve for another chapter. [illustration] chapter xvi. march to fort ridgely. in the interval the companies were drilled and the command otherwise prepared to act effectively against the formidable body of hostile warriors, who were well armed and plentifully supplied with powder and ball. colonel sibley, having looked the ground over with a critical eye, uninfluenced by the public clamor and fault-finding of the press, remained firm in the determination not to take the field until assured of success in his operations. he knew the indians well, and knew it was necessary to fight or failure, there would be no adequate barrier to the descent of the savages upon st. paul and minneapolis, and the desolation of the state generally. the chippewas on the north were known to be in secret communication with little crow, the head of the sioux hordes, and ready to them cautiously if he would succeed, for, in case of defeat co-operate with him if victorious, while the winnebagoes were also in active sympathy with him, for two or three of their warriors were found among the dead after the battle of wood lake, which occurred later on. arms, ammunition and supplies arriving, we took up the line of march for fort ridgely, which was then in a state of siege. our advent at the fort was hailed with delight, for the little garrison was pretty well tired out with the fighting and watching that they had had on their hands for the eight days previous. barricades had been erected at all weak points, but the indians so far outnumbered the soldiers that they approached near enough to fire the wooden buildings of the fort proper in many places. our march to fort ridgely was the first we had made as an entire organization, and under an able commanding officer we profited by it. on the way we found the dead body of a colored man from st. paul by the name of taylor. he was a barber by trade, but also quite a noted gambler, and had been up to the agency to get his share of the money when the indians got their pay. he played one game too many, and lost--his life. before we reached the fort the indians took alarm and sullenly retreated upon our approach, after having done all possible damage to men and property. as we entered, the brave little garrison accompanied by the women and children turned out to greet us, and a right joyous time we had. a detachment of thirty men of the fifth minnesota, under captain marsh, the commander of the fort, upon receipt of news of the outbreak, had marched in the direction of the lower sioux agency, distant a few miles. the indians, perceiving the advance of this small detachment, placed themselves in ambush in the long grass at the crossing of the minnesota river and awaited the oncoming of their unsuspecting victims, and, when in the toils, they opened a terrific fire upon them, which destroyed almost the entire party. colonel sibley hurried forward supplies and ammunition for an extensive campaign, for, from his knowledge of the indians, he knew it was no boy's play. the moving spirit among the hostiles was little crow, a wily old chief, without principle, but active and influential. he had harangued his people into the belief that the fight going on among the whites in the south had drawn off all the able-bodied men, leaving none but old men, women and children. "now," he said, "is the time to strike for minnesota. these fertile fields, stolen from us, are ours; the buffalo are gone; we have no food, and our women and children are starving. let the warriors assemble in war paint and drive the pale-faces from the face of the earth!" he told his people they could pitch their wigwams the coming winter in st. paul and hold high carnival in the legislative halls. so widespread had the alarm became that it reached st. paul and minneapolis, and "minute men" were on duty on the bluffs adjacent for several days. in addition to the sioux, the chippewas and winnebagoes were becoming very restless, and this caused additional uneasiness in the two cities. colonel sibley, upon his arrival of the fort, sent out scouts to ascertain the whereabouts of the indians. the news they brought was that a large camp of hostiles was located above the yellow medicine, where they held as captives about four hundred white women and children, and one white man. they also reported that the indians were preparing to make a raid on the small towns below the fort. it was also known that a large number of citizens who had been killed near the agency were yet unburied, and the fate of captain marsh and his men was in doubt. to this end a small command was organized, as narrated in another chapter, to go out to bury the dead and relieve captain marsh and his men if they were found alive. chapter xvii. burial of capt. marsh and men. company "a," of the sixth minnesota, together with two men each from the other companies, were detailed to accompany a burial party, with instructions to properly bury all bodies found, and, if possible, ascertain the fate of captain marsh and his thirty men, who had gone out to intercept the indians at the redwood crossing. in addition to this detail we had a small detachment of citizen cavalry, under captain joe anderson, to act as scouts. our little command numbered, all told, --infantry, cavalry and teamsters--and ninety-six horses, including twenty teams taken along to carry camp and garrison equipage, rations and ammunition, and to transport our wounded, either soldiers or citizens. the expedition was under the immediate command of captain h. p. grant, of company a. major joseph r. brown, better known as "old joe brown," was in charge of the scouts. he had a cool head, but no fighting qualities; had been an indian trader for many years, raised an indian family, and knew a great deal about indian signs and customs. in this particular case, however, the indians fooled joe. the first day out we found and buried about fifty citizens, and at night went into camp in the river bottom near redwood crossing. the night was dark and dismal, and particularly sad to us who had been gathering up the dead all day long. the instructions to the guard by captain anderson were of a very solemn nature, in view of the surroundings and the probable fighting ahead. this, together with the stillness of the night and the impression that a lurking foe was near, made the boys feel rather uncomfortable. [illustration: dr. williamson's house.] deep sleep settled upon the camp, but the sentinels maintained a vigilant watch, however, and the night slowly passed without incident. after reveille the next morning we found captain marsh and his comrades, but not one of them answered to "roll-call." we found the captain's body and those of a few of his men in the river, and the rest of the bodies in the thicket on the river bank, where they had evidently been hemmed in and fired upon from all sides. nearly all had been scalped, and were minus guns and ammunition, for these had been confiscated by the redskins. we buried the soldiers side by side, with their captain at their head, and marked the place by a huge cross, so that the bodies might be easily found and removed, which was subsequently done, when they were finally buried in the soldiers' cemetery at fort ridgely. after this last service to our dead comrades, we took up the line of march, leaving the bottom lands for the prairie above, and it was when passing over the bluff that a large body of indians, who were on their way to capture saint peter and mankato, espied us. what was our subsequent loss was the gain of the two towns mentioned. our scouts had crossed the river, making a detour to the south, and thus missed making the acquaintance of our enemies, who had their eyes on us. we went into camp the second night near birch coolie, and sixteen miles distant from fort ridgely, about p. m., well tired out with our day's march. birch coolie is a deep gorge running north and south in redwood county, minnesota. what was then a bleak prairie is now a beautiful farming community, and birch coolie a thriving village. from information gathered by the scouts we felt comparatively safe. [illustration: "chickens for supper."] old joe said: "boys, go to sleep now and rest; you are as safe as you would be in your mother's house; there is not an indian within fifty miles of you." at that very moment five hundred indians were in the immediate vicinity watching us and impatient for the ball to open, as they intended it should at the proper time, which, with the indian, is about four o'clock in the morning. after our supper on chicken stew, song-singing and story-telling, we turned in, well tired out and in a condition to enjoy a good night's sleep and dreams of home. the night was warm, the sky clear, with the stars shining brightly, and a full moon in all her glory. it was a beautiful night--too beautiful to witness the scene that was so soon to follow. the guard had been stationed and cautioned to be on the alert for strange sounds; "tattoo," "roll-call," "taps," sounded, and the little camp was silent. the low hum of voices became less and less as slumber came to the weary soldiers, and all that could be heard was the occasional challenge of the guard: "halt! who comes there!" as he was being approached by the officer of the guard. soon the soldiers slept, little dreaming that the lurking enemy and death were so near. the awakening to some was in eternity. chapter xviii. battle of birch coolie. the battle of birch coolie was fought september and , . it has never taken its proper place in history, but with the exception of the massacre at the little big horn, in , it was the hottest and the most desperate battle fought during the war of the rebellion or any of our indian wars. in comparison to the number of men and horses engaged, i know of no conflict, the one above referred to excepted, where the casualties were as great as they were here. the indian custom is to make an attack about four o'clock in the morning, so this relief had been especially cautioned, and soon after the guard was placed one of them thought he saw something moving in the grass. it proved to be an indian, and they were slowly moving in upon us, their intention being to shoot the pickets with arrows, and as noiselessly as possible rush in and destroy us in our confusion. the sentinel fired at the moving object, and instantly our camp was encircled by fire and smoke from the guns of five hundred indians, who had hemmed us in. the guard who fired escaped the bullet intended for him. he said he thought the moving object in the grass might be a hog or it might be an indian, and, hog or indian, he intended to kill it if he could. the fire was returned by the pickets as they retreated to the camp, and although there necessarily was confusion, there was no panic. quicker than i can write we were out, musket in hand, but the captain's command to "fall down" was mistaken for "fall in," which makes a vast difference under such circumstances. we soon broke for the wagons, however, which were formed in a circle about our tents, and this afforded us some little shelter. as this was our baptismal fire, and a most important engagement, i devote more space to it than i otherwise would. what an experience it was to inexperienced, peaceable, unsuspecting men! think of being awakened out of a blissful sleep by the fire from five hundred indian rifles--it is a wonder that we were not all destroyed amid the confusion that naturally would follow; but we had cool heads among us, and none were cooler than old joe brown and captain h. p. grant, of company a, who was in immediate command. i will here refer to two others. first, mr. william h. grant, a lawyer of st. paul, who still lives in minnesota. he went out to see the fun. well, he saw it, and the "trial" was a severe one. he "objected" and "took exceptions" to everything the indians did. he wore a black plug hat, and this was a good mark for the redskins; they shot it off his head twice, and it was finally lost altogether. "bill" was cool; he did not lose his temper, but laid down very flat on the ground and gave directions to those about him how to shoot to kill. we afterward voted him in as a brevet private, and were always ready to divide grub and "shake." postmaster ed. patch, of st. anthony, was another of our citizen escorts. he was a jolly good fellow and "cool as a cucumber," with a bay window on him like an overgrown bass drum. he found this excess of stomach very much in the way, in his great desire to hug mother earth and get out of range of the indian bullets, and looked as if he wished he had never been born, or that he had been a disciple of anti-fat. one of our little thin fellows was lying down alongside of "ed," and i'll never forget the expression of his face when he said: "god, bub, i wish i was as little as you be." the camp was miserably located, being commanded by the deep ravine on one side and by a mound on the other, so that the savages were well sheltered from our fire. had the instructions given by colonel sibley been followed, which were always to encamp in open and level prairie, there would have been no such destruction of valuable lives, but the spot was chosen for our camp because it was near wood and water, and the indians were supposed to be fifty miles away. it was a mistake, which we discovered after it was too late. a brisk fire was opened by the boys, and soon the cartridge boxes were being depleted. ammunition was called for, and upon opening a box, to our dismay we found it to be of too large a calibre. other boxes were opened with a like result. in loading up our ammunition a mistake had been made, and we found ourselves in this unfortunate dilemma; but no time was to be lost, as we had not more than an average of twenty rounds to the man, and a hoard of savages about us who seemed well supplied with powder and ball. we went to work cutting the large bullets down with our knives, but this was a slow and unsatisfactory process. we used the powder from these large cartridges to load our guns with, putting in an extra amount, so that when we fired these blanks they made a great noise, and thus kept up a successful "bluff," though doing no damage. a dead silence would ensue, and occasionally some of our best shots picked off a more daring redskin simply to remind them that we were awake. we had but one shovel and one pick; there were others in some of the wagons, or they had been thrown out in the grass and could not be found. the captain offered $ apiece for them, but the bullets were too thick to admit of a search, so we used jack-knives, spoons and bayonets to dig our intrenchments with. in time we had very good pits dug, and with the assistance of the dead bodies of our horses had ourselves tolerably well protected. with the wounded horses rearing and plunging, the men groaning and calling for help, the hurried commands, and the unearthly yells of the five hundred red devils about us, this baptismal fire was trying to the souls of raw recruits, as most of us were. we were encircled by fire and smoke, the bullets were doing their deadly work, and it really seemed as though no man could escape death. our orders were: "load and fire, but steady, boys, and give them hail columbia!" upon the first fire of the indians two men fled from the camp, one a citizen, who was with us, and the other a soldier. the citizen we found afterward on the prairie, dead. he was the last of his family, for we had buried his wife and two children just the previous day, before going into camp. the soldier, a swede, returned, but he was so paralyzed with fear that he was like a dead man during all this memorable thirty-six hours, and the poor fellow afterward succumbed to sickness. everything was improvised for a barricade--camp kettles, knapsacks, wagon-seats, etc., and it was done in a hurry, for hot work was on our hands. the word soon went the rounds: "college is dead, irvine is dead, baxter, coulter, benecke, king and a score of others are dead, and nearly all are wounded." it was only a few minutes after the first fire when we realized all this, and it verily looked as though the little command would be wiped out of existence. if a head was shown fifty indians leveled at it. during all this terrible fire old joe brown walked about seemingly unconcerned, until a bullet went through the back of his neck. he came to the ground as quick as if shot through the heart, for it was a bad wound, but with it all he continued to give instructions. nearly all the damage was done before ten o'clock, for up to that time we found ourselves with sixty killed and wounded, out of , and ninety-five horses dead, out of ninety-six. the horses saved our little encampment. as soon as they fell their bodies formed a good barricade for us, and this and the overturned wagons were our only protection. the indians, occupying higher ground than we did, had us at a disadvantage. the day wore on, and all we could do was to assist surgeon j. w. daniels with the wounded and keep the indians at bay. dr. daniels proved himself a cool-headed, brave man, never flinching for a moment. where duty called he was found, and he immortalized himself with the boys. the great fear of the wounded seemed to be that we would be obliged to abandon them to their fate, for the sun was extremely hot and the camp had become very offensive from the smell of decomposing bodies of horses; besides, we had no means of transporting the wounded, and their fears were not without foundation, for it looked as though we would be driven by necessity from the camp. we assured and reassured them that if we went they would go, too. if we died it would be in defending them as well as ourselves. the one thing, aside from cowardice on the part of the indians, that saved us from assault was the fact of our having several half-breed scouts with us, who talked back and forth. the indians said: "come out from the pale-faces; we do not want to kill you, but we want all their scalps." private james auge of our company was the spokesman. he was a canadian frenchman, but had lived among the indians, knew them well, and spoke their language, and as he went so would all the other indians and half-breeds who were with us. chapter xix. birch coolie continued. on the second day, at about sunrise, we discovered a large body of indians closing up nearer to us, when one of their number, probably little crow's brother, came within twenty rods of us. he was on a white horse, and carried a flag of truce. he held a conversation with auge, our interpreter, and tried to persuade him to leave us and bring the other half-breeds with him. when the conversation was interpreted to captain grant, he said: "well, auge, what do you fellows intend to do, go with the indians or stay with us?" auge replied: "captain grant, we want nothing to do with these indians; we will stand by you and fight as long as there is a man left, and i will now tell them so." he did call to them, and said: "we won't come over to you; we will stay with the soldiers, and if you come we will kill you if we can. you are cowards to kill poor women and children, and if we catch you we will treat you as you treated them." we felt relieved to know that our half-breeds were loyal. auge, after this, was corporal auge, and he went all through the south with us, making a splendid soldier. i shall have occasion to refer to him in another place in this chapter. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. battle of birch coolie. minn. fought september nd and d, . ninety-five horses lay dead within the camp; men killed and wounded; indians were under cover in the tall grass, and concentrated their fire on the camp.] captain grant told auge to say to them that we had two hundred fighting men and plenty of ammunition, and that little crow and all his dirty indians could not take us, and for him to get out with his flag of truce. it was a game of bluff, for at that time we only had about sixty-five effective men, and were nearly out of ammunition. we did not know whether we could trust the half-breeds or not, and were instructed to fire on them to kill if they made the slightest move to desert us. our firing had been heard at fort ridgely, sixteen miles away, and the colonel dispatched two hundred and fifty men, with one howitzer, to our relief. just at sunset the second day we saw two horsemen come to the edge of the woods across the coolie, but the indians also saw them, and chased them back. they returned to their command and reported a large body of indians, and said they saw a small camp with the stars and stripes flying, but as they had no field glass, could not make it out. colonel mcphail, who was in command of this relief, ordered the howitzer to be fired to give us courage, if the little camp proved to be ours. a shout went up at this welcome sound just as the sun went down. old joe brown, who had been disabled early in the day, called out from his tent: "captain grant, instruct the men to be watchful; we are in a bad fix; the indians will hate to lose our scalps, now that they are so near their grasp; give them a few shots occasionally, assure the wounded men that we will not leave them, and keep the pick and shovel busy." we disposed of ourselves for the night as best we could. every man was on guard, and nearly all had two rifles fully charged and bayonets fixed. we clasped our rifles, looked up into the starry heavens, and, asking god's protection, swore not to yield an inch. we made this demonstration to encourage the wounded men, who seemed fearful that something more terrible was in store for them. the prayers and groans of the wounded and the awful silence of the dead inspired us to do our whole duty. the watch-word, "wide-awake," went the rounds every few minutes, and there was "no sleep to the eye nor slumber to the eye-lids," during all that live-long night. out of our ninety-six horses we had but one left. this was a splendid animal, and had thus far escaped without a scratch. he was feeding about the camp, unmindful of the fate of his fellows. the picture of birch coolie is an exact reproduction of the situation. the ninety-five dead horses were all within the enclosure, and the one who escaped for the time is grazing among them. just before midnight the clouds began to gather, and we felt cheered to think we would soon have rain. we were sorely in need of water, for we had not tasted a drop since the night before, and the wounded men were nearly famished with thirst and burning with fever. as the sky darkened captain grant called for a volunteer to go to fort ridgely for relief. corporal james auge volunteered to go, and by this act proved himself a truly brave man, and if it had been successfully carried out would have gained for him a commission at no very distant day. the fact of its not being carried out was no fault of his, and, in the abandonment of the trial, he was declared not the less brave by all his comrades, who trembled for him while he was preparing to make the perilous journey. the night was cloudy, and he being conversant with indian methods and well posted in the topography of the country, could be successful in getting through the indian's lines, if anybody could; but the chances were ten to one against the success of the undertaking. the horse was saddled and the corporal had his instructions. he had his foot in the stirrup when the clouds rolled back from the full moon like the rolling back of a scroll, and it was almost as light as noon-day. the indians, ever on the alert, saw the preparations and opened fire anew upon us, and, long before they ceased, our good horse was pierced by six bullets, and the project was abandoned--we could only wait anxiously for results. the enemy did not allow us to wait long, for at four o'clock they opened a terrific fire, which they kept up for an hour. the only response they got from us was blank cartridges, but we made a great noise with them, and it answered the purpose very well. we had ourselves so well protected that in this fusillade they killed but one man and wounded another. the early morning dawn and heavy, dewy atmosphere found our eyes heavy from loss of sleep, so we divided up and some slept while others watched. we heard nothing of the detachment, and as the day advanced the indians became bolder. they had driven the relief back and were closing in upon us, and we, having so little ammunition, could do them but little harm. they were puzzled at our silence. some of the chiefs said it was a trick, others said we were all killed. at any rate, with them "discretion was the better part of valor," and we didn't object. about one o'clock the same day we descried the glimmer of the polished rifle in the distance. we had no glass, but anxious eyes strained to see what it was, and the dark outline of a moving mass told us reinforcements were coming. the chiefs, by waving their blankets and shouts, called off their warriors. "there's a mile of whites coming," they said. they waved their tomahawks, shouted, fired, and finally galloped off on the prairie. a few warriors more daring than the others remained behind for a time to get a scalp, and some of them came so close we could readily discern their war paint. before the main body of the indians left, however, they rode very close, and gave us several parting volleys. the wounding of a few of our men was all the damage they did at this time. right joyful were we when the reinforcements arrived. our camp had been formed by driving twenty teams in a circle, and it can readily be seen that it was not large. it was about as large as an ordinary circus tent, and inside of this we had our horses, men and tents. after the battle the sight was a sickening one, for with sixty dead and wounded men and ninety-five horses in such a small space, and all the confusion arising out of such a siege it was enough to appall the stoutest heart. strong men, when they beheld the sight, wept like children. it was our baptismal fire, and the horror seemed greater to us. our men, whose nerves had been on a tension so long and bodies exhausted for want of food, water and sleep, when the relief came, fell down and slept. colonel sibley was the first to arrive, and when he rode up to our barricade, and saw the terrible loss of life he looked as though he had lost his best friends. his heart bled at the sight, and the tears he shed spoke volumes. a detail was at once made to bury the dead side by side in a temporary grave, dinner was cooked for the remainder of the command and the wounded were put in ambulances, tents were "struck," and we took up the line of march for fort ridgely, which we reached sometime during the night. our tents had been so completely riddled with bullets that they were condemned as useless, and were finally sent down to fort snelling and placed on exhibition for a long time. one of them had bullet holes in it, and when the people looked at them they wondered that any man escaped. the narrow escapes were almost miraculous, and congratulations were frequently in order. it was not every man for himself, but a strong fellow-feeling sprang up among us that forever afterwards cemented our hearts. we shared our shelter and encouraged one another, and no man shrank from duty. we had determined to die together, and if ever soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder we did on this bloody spot, where our nerves and courage were taxed to the utmost. company a, so nearly wiped out, was ever afterwards considered the "old ironsides" of the regiment. before we left, colonel sibley addressed a note to little crow, and placing it on a stick stuck it in the ground so he might find it when he would visit the battle ground, as he surely would do as soon as we were out of the way. the note was as follows: "if little crow has any proposition to make let him send a half-breed to me and he shall be protected in and out of my camp. h. h. sibley, colonel commanding military expedition." to specify the remarkable escapes would unduly lengthen this chapter, but, as near as my recollection serves me, no man entirely escaped. i'll specify two--one an escape and the other an incident. lieutenant swan, of the third minnesota, now a lawyer of sioux city, iowa, was with us on this picnic. he was not ordered to go, neither was he detailed, but he simply went, and he had a very narrow escape. during the sharp firing, and after we had some shallow pits dug, this officer was in one as far as his long legs would admit. he had a fine gold watch in his fob pocket, and one of the boys asked him the time of day. he undoubled as well as he could and got out his watch, but in returning it put it in his vest pocket instead of the fob. it was no sooner in his pocket than an indian bullet struck it squarely in the center. the concussion knocked the lieutenant over, but the watch saved his life. he keeps it as a valued souvenir of the occasion. the incident relates to private james leyde, of company a, of the sixth. he was a little fellow who could march longer and eat oftener than any youngster of his size i ever saw. jimmy was a splendid soldier, always ready for drill or guard, and never forgot his manners when he met a "shoulder-straps." he was a pious little fellow, too, and carried a bible his mother gave him. well, "after the battle" jimmy was looking over the wreck with his comrade, billy caine, and in taking up his bible found a bullet embedded in it. "hello, billy, my bible got struck!" the ball had gone through genesis, exodus and leviticus, until it stopped half way through deuteronomy. jimmy says: "god, billy, it didn't get through deuteronomy anyway!" there were many close calls, and it really seemed remarkable that so many could escape. i could specify scores, but it is not necessary. among the incidents on the march before we arrived at birch coolie i might mention the finding of a wounded woman by the roadside. she had been without food or water for twelve days, and was the only one of a large party supposed to have been murdered. she did not escape uninjured, however, for the surgeon took fourteen buckshot from her back. during our thirty-six hours' siege this poor woman remained in the wagon where she had been placed the first day, and spent her time in praying for our deliverance. she sustained a broken wrist in addition to her other wounds, but after we got to the fort she was among her own people and soon fully recovered to tell the tale of her twelve days' wanderings and her marvelous escape. chapter xx. battle of wood lake. at this juncture the press and people were clamoring for colonel sibley's removal because of his delay and, as they claimed--lack of energy and judgment. he lacked in neither, for he knew the foe he had to deal with, and if he had heeded the behests of the press and people, so far away, not a woman or child of the captives would have escaped. however, he dispatched col. william crooks to st. paul to explain the situation in detail to governor ramsey and satisfy the clamorous press that they knew but little of the situation as it existed at the seat of the sioux war. after our return to fort ridgely and a few more days of preparation, the command was put in splendid marching condition, and "forward" was the word for the rescuing of the captives and if possible the capture of the renegades. we met the indians next at wood lake and had a sharp battle with them early in the morning. they had come down in force to annihilate us, but we were glad to meet them in broad day light on the open prairie and receive them with "open arms to hospitable graves." we were just up from a good night's sleep and had partaken of a generous supply of old java and "hard tack," and felt abundantly able to defend ourselves. besides we were veterans now, for we had profited by our baptismal fire and had an old score to settle with "mr. injun," and we settled to our entire satisfaction. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. battle of wood lake, minn. fought september d, in which the indians were defeated.] our sappers had gone out to repair a bridge that had been burned, and the temptation was too great for some of the younger warriors. the plan of the indians was to surprise us as we were crossing the river--to divide our attention by having a small body in the rear and one in front, and then the main body to spring from their ambush, and in our confusion to destroy us; but the young bucks, when they saw a few of our men, wanted their scalps so bad they opened fire. the "long roll" was sounded, and we stood to arms. little crow knew that colonel sibley was aware of his tactics, and was determined to remove him if he could by detailing about eighty of his best warriors to do the work, and at this battle of wood lake they tried hard to reach him, but he was too watchful to be caught napping. a detachment of the third minnesota, under major welch, and the renville rangers charged upon the indians in one direction, and the seventh minnesota, in command of col. william r. marshall, in another, while the battery, under command of captain mark hendricks, did effective work also. the sixth minnesota, under command of colonel william crooks, routed the indians from a deep ravine on the right flank of our camp and probably saved colonel sibley from being captured by the picked men sent out for that purpose by little crow. the conflict lasted more than two hours and was decisive. the indians offered to surrender if colonel sibley would promise them immunity from punishment, but this was sternly refused. they fled in dismay, not being permitted to take their dead and wounded from the field. so confident were they of success that they had brought their women and teams to take back the pillage after the indians had loaded themselves with glory and scalps--but presto, change; they got no glory and lost their scalps. the soldiers had not forgotten birch coolie quite so soon and took great pleasure in procuring indian scalps for trophies. "other day," who guided a large party in escaping the massacre, seemed to have a charmed life, and a little incident here, in which he is the chief figure, will not be amiss. "other day," the same as other scouts, wore united states clothing. the day before the wood lake battle he was out scouting, and coming to a house turned his pony out to graze and lay down to take a noon-day nap. an indian espied the pony and wanted it. he stealthily came up to the sleeping "other day," and putting up some kind of a sign so he might know a brother indian had his pony, he rode off with the animal. "other day," considerably crestfallen, came back to headquarters and reported his loss and the manner of it. the colonel and his staff had a hearty laugh at his expense, which rather offended his indian sensitiveness. "never mind," says he, "me get two for one." early next morning "other day" put on his indian toggery, paint, feathers and all, and as the indians hove in sight the morning of the wood lake battle, he started out on his pony hunt. our men espied him across the ravine, and thinking him a hostile opened fire on him. his blanket was perforated with bullets, even the feathers in his hair were shot off, and yet no harm came to him. after the battle he came in with two ponies, and reporting to the colonel, laughingly said: "me got two for one." his wonderful escape was the talk of the camp, and the colonel had an order issued prohibiting any one attached to the command, in the future, wearing anything but the united states regulation uniform. the battle was a very decisive one and very discouraging to the indians, who suffered a loss of in killed and wounded, while our loss was fifty-seven killed and wounded. the engagement lasted two hours, and after the dead were gathered up and buried and the wounded cared for the column was again ready to move. this battle developed the fact that the indian forces resisting our advance were composed in part of the medawakantons and wahpekutas of the lower and wahpetons and sissetons of the upper sioux and winnebagoes, half-breeds and deserters from the renville rangers. the utmost solicitude was expressed for the safety of the white prisoners, who knew that the indians had gone down to fight the soldiers. they knew the temper of the squaws especially and feared the results of the battle. they heard the firing of the howitzer away in the distance, and by noon squaws began to arrive and in a most unhappy mood. it was immediately after the battle of wood lake that general pope wrote to general halleck as follows; "you do not seem to be aware of the extent of the indian outbreak. the sioux, , warriors, are assembled at the upper agency to give battle to colonel sibley, who is advancing with , men and five pieces of artillery. three hundred and over of women and children are captives in their hands. cannot the paroled officers and men of the rifle regiment (dragoons) now in michigan be sent here?" the stay-at-homes, who were loudest in their complaints, were raising the cry, "on to richmond," on the one hand, and then again, "on to little crow" on the other. colonel sibley stood like a man of iron against these impatient behests. the "howlers" were not heeded, and in the liberation of the captives he gained the gratitude of the nation and a merited promotion. the friendly chiefs who had determined at all hazards to protect the defenseless women and children redoubled their vigilance during the night; because they, too, knew the temper of a vanquished sioux warrior. the position of these poor creatures was truly pitiable. no less than four different councils were convoked, the upper indians arrayed, in a measure, against the lower, and a quarrel ensued. little paul, red iron, standing buffalo, chaska and a hundred sissetons determined to fight little crow himself should any attempt be made to massacre the captives or place them in front at the coming battle. the hostiles began to fear that judgment was near, and it compelled little crow to assume a spirit of bravado not at all in consonance with his feelings. [illustration: indian camp taken by colonel sibley.] colonel sibley, when he came in sight of the hostile camp, did not do as the majority of the soldiers thought he ought; viz., march up and at once surround the camp. this is where his coolness and knowledge of the indians served him so good a purpose. he knew if he attempted such a course that the renegade indians in the camp would at once take the alarm and run away, and that probably before they did go they would attempt to take the prisoners with them, and failing in this would kill them outright. he was informed of this by one of the scouts and at once concluded to adopt but one course, to go into camp and pay no attention to them and thus disarm them of any fear as to his real intention. while the colonel did this, and apparently intended to leave them alone, he was informing himself of the condition of affairs in the indian camp. he learned that several of the worst bands had gone farther up north, and he sent word to them to return and they should not be harmed. several bands did come back, but there were those who did not, and after the scouts had located them, companies of soldiers were sent out to make their capture. in this way they all came back or were captured and compelled to come, excepting little crow and his immediate followers. at camp release we attended to guard mount, company and battalion drill, and all other duties incident to a soldier's life. it became necessary to make a concerted move against the indian camp in our immediate vicinity and relieve the white prisoners, and the orders were received one night for all the infantry to turn out at twelve midnight. it was to be done noiselessly, and the instructions were so given. the whole command marched out in single file until the indian camp was surrounded, and then we were ordered to close in. after this was done we received orders to lie down and to remain until daylight, when, at the sound of reveille, we were to rise up. the indians, hearing the early bugle call so near them, flocked out to see what it was and found themselves prisoners. negotiations at once commenced for the unconditional surrender of the white prisoners, and the object about which general sibley was so solicitous was accomplished. he knew that he could not attack the hostiles in the friendly camp without endangering the lives of the captives, and that the best policy was to appear indifferent about their presence and thus disarm them of fear. the plan worked admirably, and the game was successfully bagged. [illustration: other day.] chapter xxi. camp release. among the attractive and cultivated women found among the prisoners was a miss mattie williams, of painesville, ohio, who at the time of the outbreak was living with an uncle on the yellow medicine river. they had been surprised by the indians without a moment's warning, and of course, in their hurry, had no time to plan for an escape; but each sought safety as best they could and became separated. miss williams, in her wanderings, was picked up by a mr. patwell, who was escaping with a german girl, who also was fleeing. they were overtaken by the indians, mr. patwell was killed, the german girl so wounded that she died, and miss williams herself, wounded in the shoulder, was alone with her indian captors, who imposed upon her all the indignities born of their hellish desires. for forty days she suffered as no human mind can imagine, forty anxious days and sleepless nights in a dirty, smoke-begrimed, leaky tent, clad in indian costume and obliged to submit to savage passion. but the angels listened and the day of deliverance drew near. the women of this camp were all of one mind--in accord they prayed that deliverance should come, and that the guiding hand should be directed by a clear head. as moses was preserved in the bulrushes and found by pharaoh's daughter and educated for a purpose--to lead the children of israel from out the land of bondage and through the red sea to the wilderness and the promised land--so, too, was colonel sibley raised up to frustrate the designs of the indians and liberate these women and children. on the night of september th our heroine, wrapped in her indian blanket, laid herself down, not to pleasant dreams, but to blissful waking visions of release. nor was she alone in her night vigils; other hearts, burdened and borne down with unutterable anguish, petitioned god to so direct the soldiers who were on the way, that their release might be sure. the soldiers are coming, and are these weary, anxious, fearful days and nights to end? at the first dawning of the day, september th, the indian camp was astir and preparations made to receive distinguished guests. and who were these guests? colonel sibley, the big white chief, and his staff. extra paint, paint of every hue, and beads, together with eagle feathers and white flags, were conspicuous throughout this excited indian tepee village. the bright gleam of muskets away in the distance, banners fluttering in the breeze and the sound of martial music as it struck the glad expectant ear, was an answer to all their prayers: "deliverance had come!" hearts made glad because the terrible nightmare of weeks had been dissipated, the anxious days and sleepless nights were at an end, prayers had been answered, and it was now a time for thanksgiving. was it ended, this horrible dream? yes. but with it all, strong attachments sprang up between the captive and the captor. they would have been less than human if it were not so. these sturdy and determined indian women and men who protected them had jeopardized their lives, and what greater love can we show one for the other than that we lay down our lives? [illustration: camp release.] the little children, from one year up to four or five, who had become orphaned, were adopted by the indian mother, and these mothers, who became so under such sorrowful circumstances, and having all the maternal instincts of her more favored white sister, cared for them as tenderly as she did her own. the little things were there with their dirty, chubby faces, just the same as their indian mates, their faces were painted, their hair braided and garnished with eagle feathers, and they really seemed happy and contented amid their changed and strange environments. when the time came for them to go to our camps they cried and wanted to stay with their newly found indian mothers, and the mothers in turn hugged them and cried over them and hated to give them up. there is nothing passes a mother's love, even an indian mother's love. it was a proud day for colonel sibley, and as he looked into the happy faces of the captives and received their blessings and reverent homage, his heart was touched and tears coursed down his cheeks. he was yet a colonel, so far as we knew, and one of his staff officers, in addressing him said: "colonel sibley, i would rather have the glory of your achievement to-day than the proudest victory ever won in battle." the military camp at this point was designated camp release, so named from the nature of our mission in releasing the people from their indian captivity. the manner in which they were rescued and the indians captured reflects greatly to the credit and sagacity of colonel sibley and his advisers. the impetuous and indignant soldiers, after what their eyes had beheld in the region where the whites had been murdered, were determined to annihilate the camp, and it was almost impossible to restrain them, especially company a, of the sixth minnesota, which had suffered so severely at birch coolie; but wiser counsels prevailed. after the indians had been secured, and the captives released, we went among them and listened to the recital of experiences that would make the blood of any ordinary mortal boil with indignation, and it was a miracle that the soldiers did not take the matter in hand and then and there forever settle the indian question. the orders were very strict about guarding the indians, but on the sly many acts of cruelty were indulged in by the soldiers that would hardly be warranted, for we should not for a moment forget the fact that they were our prisoners and we were not savages and should not indulge in savage propensities. colonel henry hastings sibley at camp release received a notification of his deserved promotion, and we shall hereafter speak of him as general sibley. during our stay at camp release we were daily drilling by company and battalion, and perfecting ourselves in all things pertaining to soldier life. we had a splendid camping place on the broad prairie near the river bank, but the cold nights reminded us that winter quarters would soon be more comfortable than the open prairie, and the rations were getting rather scarce. "fall in for grub" ordinarily is quite as welcome to the hungry soldier as is the gong at a fashionable hotel to the fashionable guest. how we jumped for the haversack containing, not solid silver, but tin cup, tin plate, knife, fork and spoon, and fell in line according to our agility to get there, and not according to size, so as to give the ponies an equal chance with the tall men, whose place is on the right when in parade. each received his ration of coffee, hard tack, pork and beans, irrespective of size, weight or previous condition. commissary stores at camp release were getting very low and the supply train was not yet due by several days' march, so it became necessary to count out the crackers--five crackers to each man for a day, and no pie or strawberries and cream for dessert. from five we were reduced to three, and then there was nothing left but the bottom of the barrels. there was some ear corn, but a guard was placed over that to keep it safe for the horses and mules. every mule was honored with a guard during his meal hour to prevent the "boys in blue" from appropriating the precious ear for his own use. no coffee, no meal, no hardtack, but there was a load of potatoes remaining, and when the call to grub sounded, again we scrambled into line to receive our ration for the day, which was--one potato. just after we received this potato ration the commissary train hove in sight under strong guard with three days' rations, which were issued to the hungry soldiers, and the indications were that the command would soon move. chapter xxii. the indian prisoners--the trial. after liberating the captives it became necessary to at once proceed against the indians, and to this end the general appointed a commission consisting of colonel william crooks, president; lieutenant-colonel william r. marshall, captains h. p. grant, h. s. bailey and rollin c. olin and lieutenant i. v. d. heard as recorder. the indians were properly represented, and through an interpreter understood the nature of the charges brought against them. the rescued white captives, as soon as possible, were sent under suitable escort to fort ridgely and then forwarded to their friends. as before narrated, some of them had formed quite strong attachments for their dusky protectors. and it is not to be wondered at. because a man's skin is red or black it does not follow that his heart is black. the blackest hearts the world's history ever recorded beat beneath the whitest breasts. these friendly indians were in a very small minority, succeeded in saving the lives of the captives. it was a watch by day and by night, and through a bold determination, that the few friendly ones succeeded in saving, as they did, these captives, and they would be less than human if they did not form strong attachments for their dusky friends. [illustration: the court-house of the military commission.] after the departure of the white captives, the indian trial proceeded, but for good reasons the general concluded to move the camp down to the lower agency on the red wood river. the indian camp, mostly made up of women and children, had been moved from yellow medicine to this place, where the trial still progressed. it was really amusing to sit by and listen to the testimony given in by the indians through their interpreter. they were nearly all like the white criminals of to-day--innocent. i will only record a few. cut-nose, for instance, will be a fair example of others, who were as guilty wretches as ever escaped the immediate vengeance of an outraged people. the bloody old chief tried to play the innocent by saying he was not in the battles to hurt anyone. he was most always there, but he was engaged in some innocent pastime, such as feasting on roast beef and green corn, while his comrades of the paint and feathers were killing people by the score. if he fired at all it was at random and nobody was hurt. he would steal, but that was for the benefit of his wife; she insisted upon his doing something towards the support of herself and their indian kids; but as for killing anyone, oh! no, he could not think of that for a minute. we have his picture here, and his looks are a "dead giveaway;" and, besides, twenty-seven murders were traced directly to him, and his protestation of "me good injun" all went for nought. he was a notoriously bad indian; he was so adjudged by the commission, who condemned him to death, and he finally dangled at one end of a hempen cord. [illustration: cut-nose. who killed twenty-seven persons, and was hanged.] another one, prematurely gray, thought this ought to be evidence in his favor, and others protested that they were too weak to face fire; others, that their lives were threatened and they were compelled to go on the war path; others, that they slept while their more wakeful companions fought; and one old man who said he was fifty years old a great many years ago, thought he might be excused, but a boy swore straight against him and said, "i saw that man kill my mother," which solemn words settled the prisoner's fate. this indian was "round wind," but it was afterwards shown that he was not there and he was reprieved just before the day set for the execution. among the indian prisoners were some who had been enlisted in the "renville rangers," and had deserted to their friends--our enemies. these rangers were all indians and half-breeds, and it was largely from this fact that the indians conceived the idea that all the white men had left the state and that the time was propitious for the indians to strike to regain their territory. it was proven conclusively that these men had been in all the battles, and at wood lake one of them had taken the first scalp, and this from an old man and a former comrade in his company. for this he received one of the two belts of wampum which had been promised by little crow as a reward for killing the first white man. these men all offered excuses, but the evidence was so overwhelmingly against them that they also were condemned to death. it was necessary to make an indiscriminate capture of the indians and then investigate their several cases to find out the guilty ones, because, there were many among them who no doubt had been compelled to participate in the fights we had with them at birch coolie and wood lake, and only kept with the hostiles from policy and to save the lives of the white people. to these and a good old squaw, well known in st. paul and other parts of the union as "old betz," over persons owe their lives. "old betz" has gone to her reward in the happy hunting grounds, having lived over seventy-five years. she was a good woman and a good friend to the early settlers of minnesota. others who were friendly to the whites and loyal to their great father at washington were liberated, and the guilty placed under strong guard. [illustration: old betz.] chapter xxiii. capture of renegade bands--midnight march. general sibley was apprised by his scouts that there were several lodges of indians up around goose nest lake, and also near the mouth of the lac-qui-parle river, and he dispatched lieutenant-colonel marshall with two hundred and fifty men (having six days' rations) to bring them in. the little expedition started at midnight. they did not find indians at the point designated, but struck across the country, and by a forced march of forty-five miles, found two lodges. they took the young men prisoners, but the women and children were placed in charge of the old men and sent away with instructions to report at camp release, which they did in due time. colonel marshall heard of twenty-seven lodges at a place described as two wood lake, but upon arriving there, found the place deserted, the enemy leaving behind for the benefit of other indians, a sign indicating that they had left two days before. in order to catch them, the infantry were instructed to follow, while the cavalry, with a howitzer, pushed on as fast as possible, and about midnight on the th the detachment came up to the indians, who, unsuspecting, were enjoying their sleep. the barking of the dogs awoke them, and they realized that something unusual was about to occur. peering out through the opening of their tepees, they saw horsemen and at once suspected they were soldiers. the half-breed scouts called upon them to surrender and they would not be harmed. some of the younger men started to run away, but they were overtaken and all made prisoners. in their conversation with the interpreter they said they would have given themselves up, but were afraid to do so. they said they knew that starvation stared them in the face, because a cold winter was at hand, their provisions were all gone, and that for the sake of their families they were glad to be caught. they said also that little crow and some of his immediate followers had gone farther north, near devil's lake. the game having been successfully bagged, colonel marshall hastened with the prisoners back to camp release, where everything was in readiness for a move down to red wood. among the indians was a negro by the name of godfrey. he had never known any other people and was totally ignorant concerning his parentage; but he was among them, taking part in all their battles, and a very active part, too, for the charge against him was "murder," in that with his own hand he had killed seven white men, women and children. he said he was not guilty. it is often thus--guilty men are innocent in their own estimation. mr. o-ta-kle (godfrey), was in his own opinion one of this sort. certain it was, he had been enthusiastic over the prospect of the excitement that would follow a general uprising, for he put on a breech-clout and decorated his black face and legs in all the gorgeous hues of indian war paint. he could "whoop" as loud and yell as fiercely as the best of them, and when the indians returned from one of their raids he was accounted one of the bravest of their warriors. he admitted that he had killed seven; this he did, however, to his indian comrades, when it would, if a fact, add feathers to his coronet and renown to his cruel record; but, when confronted by the men who could pass judgment against him if found guilty, he was the most innocent creature in all the world. in his hesitating, broken way of speaking, he gave a minute account of his whereabouts. there was no direct evidence against him, excepting his own confession to his comrades that he was with the indians in all their raids and that he had killed seven people. in his earnest denial of the fact, he had such an honest look, and spoke with such a truthful tone, that the court, although prejudiced against him, were inclined to listen to his story with a reasonable degree of favor; yet he was finally found guilty and sentenced to be hanged, the verdict being accompanied with a recommendation that his punishment be commuted to imprisonment for ten years. he did not go to prison, but was sent to a reservation and compelled to stay there. who he was, or where he came from, no one seemed to know, and he could remember nothing beyond his life among the indians. chapter xxiv. homeward bound. "we start for home to-morrow morning," were the gladsome words passed around the camp-fire on the evening of the d of october. the nights were getting chilly, and the shortening days indicated that the autumn was fast passing away, and that warmer quarters than our tents would soon be an absolute necessity. the contemplation of the homeward march was a pleasure, for there were ties of friendship there that forbade procrastination. a sad thought came over us as we remembered the poor fellows who had given up their lives--their waiting ones at home would wait in vain. [illustration: "reveille."] reveille sounded early one morning, and after a hurried breakfast of coffee and hard tack, the headquarters bugle sounded "strike tents," and the city of canvas was soon razed to the ground. with the captives and prisoners we took up our line of march for yellow medicine, where the commission appointed by the general tried and condemned indians to hang. the morning we left camp release the sun shone brightly, the sky was clear, but there was frost in the air; and, as we were on very short rations and only one blanket each, we were in high glee as we marched out to the music of the band. i think our steps were more than the regulation twenty-eight inches, for we were headed towards god's country--home. about four p. m. the fierce fall wind veered around in our faces, and coming as it did off the burnt prairie, our faces soon presented the appearance of men from the interior of africa. we were black in the face. at five o'clock we went into camp. it was pitch dark, with the wind blowing a hurricane, and in the darkness, infantry, cavalry, and artillery were one interminable mass of troops and order was impossible. so the orders were: "by company, left wheel, halt;" "stack arms;" "break ranks," with orders to pitch tents and get under cover. to make fires and cook supper was impossible, so we supped on raw salt pork, hard tack, and cold water. the sibley tents blew down as fast as put up, and in this condition we crawled under them to get the best protection possible from the fierce northern blast. some of the men had found potato cellars that had been dug in the hillside by the indians, and taking possession of them were thus afforded good, warm quarters and plenty of potatoes to eat. in this respect they were much more fortunate than the rest of us who were on the outside and had all we could do to keep from freezing to death. the storm abated somewhat by morning, so we could make our fires, which we did, and availed ourselves of the indian potatoes, and with salt pork, hard tack and coffee made a hearty breakfast and were soon on the march again. the exposure of that night gave many of us the rheumatism, and it took several hours' march to get ourselves limbered up, but the day was bright and we were homeward bound. we made a good day's march, and pitched our tents in the valley of the red wood. the indian camp, consisting principally of women and children, had been previously removed to this place from yellow medicine, where the quartermaster had erected a large board prison to hold the captive red men, who had all been condemned by the commission. the papers had been sent on to president lincoln for his final decision, and we were here awaiting developments. the condemned indians were sent under strong guard to camp sibley, on the banks of the red wood river. they were chained together and kept in a structure built for the purpose, and their squaws, who were camped on the outside, were allowed to cook for them under the supervision of a guard, to prevent them from smuggling knives or a weapon of any kind on the inside of the enclosure. [illustration: camp lincoln.] after a week or ten days we again took up the line of march to a destination known only to the general and his staff, but which proved to be that the seventh minnesota, under colonel william r. marshall, should proceed with the prisoners to mankato, and the sixth minnesota, under colonel crooks, should report at fort snelling for further orders. the two regiments marched together until we reached a point some way below new ulm. nothing of importance took place until we reached this place. the general having heard that the citizens had determined to kill every redskin regardless of consequences if they could possibly get hold of them, took precaution against it. it was said that every house was supplied with hot water, hot soft soap and anything and everything that ingenuity could invent to inflict sudden and sure punishment, and death if possible, to those that had brought such woe to them. for this reason the general changed his course somewhat, and making a detour to the right, escaped the necessity or perhaps bloodshed, in trying to save his captives from the hands of this justly furious people. men and women turned out en masse and hurling imprecations, flourishing butcher knives, table knives, and even scissors, axes, pitchforks--in fact, every sort of weapon--seemed determined to get at them, and abused soldiers and indians alike because they were held at bay. they followed us for two or three miles before they became convinced that the general was determined at all hazards to uphold the supremacy of the government in protecting these blood-stained captives from the furies of a people who had suffered so much at the hands of some of their tribes in the murder of their innocent women and children. at a point below new ulm the command was divided, a portion taking all the condemned men to mankato, and the balance of the command proceeding to fort snelling. at mankato, as the days wore away and there was some doubt as to what the final decision of president lincoln would be, great fear was entertained that there would be a general uprising of the people, and an attempt made to override military and civil law by wresting the indians from the soldiers and instituting a general massacre of them, irrespective of their guilt or innocence, but colonel stephen miller, the post commander, having determined that law and not lawlessness should prevail, used the utmost vigilance to defeat any such undertaking. chapter xxv. protests--president lincoln's order for the execution. the indians did not seem to feel cast down; some in fact appeared rather to enjoy the situation; others, again, were more serious, and were probably speculating as to the probable outcome of the unfortunate condition of affairs. the soldiers did not relish the idea of guarding them, and one night a conspiracy, which i overheard, was formed to create a false alarm in the camp and in the excitement fall on the indians and murder them. the plot leaked out and the plan miscarried, as it should, for it would have been rank murder to have executed it. among the prisoners there were many who really were not guilty, but had been caught in bad company. the prisoners were arraigned upon written charges specifying the criminating acts, and these charges were signed by general sibley, and with but few exceptions were based on information furnished by rev. s. r. riggs, who had long been a missionary among them. the majority of the prisoners were condemned to death, and the news reaching the east, far away from the scene of the outrages, petitions went in from many new england cities, imploring the president to exercise clemency toward this unfortunate people. he yielded to the clamor in so far as only to include the very worst characters among them. bishop whipple said: "there are times when the christian laborer has a right to ask for the sympathy, the prayers and the co-operation of our fellow-citizens, and to make a strong appeal in behalf of this most wretched race of heathen men on the face of the earth. the responsibility," he says, "is great, the fearful issues are upon us, and as we are to settle them justly or unjustly we shall receive the blessing or curse of almighty god. many of these victims of savage ferocity were my friends. they had mingled their voices with mine in prayer; they had given to me such hospitality as can only be found in the log cabin of the frontier; and it fills my heart with grief, and blinds my eyes with tears, when i think of their nameless graves. it is because i love them and would save others from their fate that i ask that the people shall lay the blame of this great crime where it belongs, and rise up with one voice to demand the reform of the atrocious indian system, which has always garnered for us the same fruit of anguish and blood." thousands of miles away from the scene of the outrages perpetrated against the inoffensive white settlers, protests were sent in to the president from all sorts of humanitarians, imploring him to stay the sentence that condemned to death so many human beings. the provocation to indiscriminately condemn and hang was very great, for thousands of innocents had been ruthlessly murdered; no moments of warning were given them; no former kindnesses seemed to be remembered by the indians, and their hands were steeped in their friends' blood, and there seemed no palliating circumstances. the enormity of the outbreak and the fiendish cruelty of the redskins were appalling; the people were paralyzed with astonishment and fear, and the witnesses, no doubt mistaken and prejudiced, gave such positive testimony that the commission felt satisfied in pronouncing them guilty of murder in the first degree; but would this have been the case if these prisoners had been white instead of red? [illustration: interior of indian jail.] no doubt general sibley himself was surprised when he learned of the indiscriminate condemnation of these prisoners, and was glad not to be held responsible for their hanging. it is a fact that there were indians found with arms in their hands in nearly all the battles, but their object was to protect the women and children prisoners, and they said they must make a show of fighting whether they did or not in order to accomplish this. it would have been a great stain on the fair name of our country if this wholesale hanging had occurred, and president lincoln acted wisely in overruling the recommendation of the commission, which he did to such an extent as to sanction the execution of thirty-nine of the condemned men, and the balance to be further held as prisoners until he should designate a reservation to which they should be sent. during the time the preparations were being made to carry out the president's order the people were clamorous. they were not satisfied with the modification of the president's order, and grave rumors were abroad that there would be a vigorous effort made to take the indians from the soldiers and have a wholesale execution, but the military authorities prevented it. the president acted wisely in this matter. in fact, the state of the public mind was such and the pressure within our lines was exercised to such a degree that the president could do nothing less. if all the condemned indians had been executed the impression would have gone abroad that the great government of the united states was putting to death its prisoners of war, and this would have done much toward bringing about a recognition of the southern confederacy. the president's order was as follows: "executive mansion, washington, december , . brigadier-general h. h. sibley, st. paul, minn.: ordered, that the indians and half-breeds sentenced to be hanged by the military commission, composed of colonel crooks, lieutenant-colonel marshall, captain grant, captain bailey and lieutenant olin, and lately sitting in minnesota, you cause to be executed on friday, the th day of december, instant. the other condemned prisoners you will hold subject to further orders, taking care that they neither escape nor are subjected to any unlawful violence. abraham lincoln, president of united states." the execution was carried out on the th of december, . thirty-eight were hanged. chapter xxvi. the execution--the night before. the date of the execution was fixed for december , . on the d instant the condemned prisoners were separated from the others, and on the same day colonel stephen miller (afterwards governor), who was in command, through the interpreter, rev. mr. riggs, called upon the condemned and announced the decision of the great father at washington. he said: tell these thirty-nine condemned men that the commanding officer of this place has called to speak to them on a serious subject this afternoon. their great father at washington, after carefully reading what the witnesses testified to in their several trials, has come to the conclusion that they have been guilty of murdering his white children; and, for this reason, has directed that each be hanged by the neck until dead next friday at ten a. m. that good ministers, both catholic and protestant, are here, and can commune with them for the remaining four days they have to live. that i will now cause to be read the letter from their great father at washington, first in english and then in their own language. say to them, now, that they have so sinned against their fellow-men, that there is no hope for clemency except in the mercy of god, through the merits of the blessed redeemer; and that i earnestly exhort them to apply to that, as their only remaining source of comfort and consolation. rev. mr. riggs, the interpreter, had been a missionary among them for twenty-five years, and he had known them intimately, and it pained him sorely to be obliged to convey to them as an interpreter the words that were to condemn them to death. in so doing he said: i have known you for many years; i have pointed you to the cross; endeavored to prayerfully convince you that allegiance to god, and the great father at washington, was your duty. i have with a broken heart witnessed your cruelty to inoffensive men, women and children; cruelty to your best friends. you have stained your hands in innocent blood, and now the law holds you to strict accountability. it pains me to inform you that your great father in washington says you must die for your cruelty and murders, and i am directed to inform you that on the th day of february you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead, and may god have mercy on your souls. the prisoners received the sentence rather coolly; some smoking their pipes composedly during its reading, one of them knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and another putting in his a fresh supply of kinnikinnick. on tuesday evening they held a death dance, accompanied by wild indian songs, and there were some fears that the excitement might cause an attempt to make an escape or create a panic; so, precautionary measures were taken. the indians' friends and families were permitted to visit them and take a last farewell. it was a solemn time even to the white soldiers, for it was plainly evident that while there was a lack of such demonstration as would be witnessed among the whites under similar circumstances, yet to the observant eye only, it was plain to be seen that deep, deep grief had taken possession of their hearts. there were few tears; no hysterics, but profound sorrow was depicted on the countenances as the parting word was said, and messages sent to children and friends. some were completely overcome; others in bravado laughed and joked as if it were an every-day occurrence. one said: "yes, tell our friends that we are being removed from this world over the same path they must shortly travel. we go first." many spoke in a mournful tone; in fact, the majority of them desired to say something, and with one or two exceptions they seemed to be penitent. why should they not? their white brethren under like circumstances are accorded religious privileges. they repent and accept the invitation, "come unto me all ye who are weary and heavy laden and i will give you rest." the thief on the cross repented. could not an ignorant, misguided indian under religious instruction receive light and repent? the night before the execution colonel miller received a stay for one of the condemned, as strong doubt existed as to his participation in the murders, and he was finally pardoned. it has been said that in the excitement of the preparations for the execution that the wrong man was pardoned. he was guilty, but the innocent man suffered in his stead. the last night was spent by the prisoners in quite a jolly camp-fire, chatting merrily and smoking to their hearts' content. father ravoux, a catholic priest from st. paul, remained with them all night administering consolation and communion, and the more serious of them listened attentively to his words of comfort. in the morning, as the hour for the execution approached, and while father ravoux was speaking to the indians, the provost marshal entered and whispered something to the good priest, who in turn spoke in french to one of the half-breeds, and he repeated it in dakota to the indians, who were all lying down around the prison. the information he gave was that the hour had arrived when they were to march to the gallows. in a moment every indian stood erect, and as the provost marshal opened the door they fell in behind him with the greatest alacrity. indeed, a notice of release, pardon or reprieve could not have induced them to leave their cells with more apparent willingness than this call to death. at the foot of the steps there was no delay. captain redfield mounted the drop, at the head, and the indians crowded after him, as if it were a race to see who would get there first. they actually crowded on each other's heels, and as they got to the top, each took his position, without any assistance from those who were detailed for that purpose. they still kept up a mournful wail, and occasionally there would be a piercing scream. the ropes were soon arranged around their necks without the least opposition being offered. the white caps, which had been placed on the tops of their heads, were now drawn down over their faces, shutting out forever the light of day from their eyes. then ensued a scene that can hardly be described and can never be forgotten. all joined in shouting and singing, as it appeared to those who were ignorant of the language. the tones seemed somewhat discordant, and yet there was harmony in it. it was not their voices alone, but their bodies swayed to and fro, and their every limb seemed to be keeping time. the drop trembled and shook as if all were dancing. the most touching scene on the drop was their attempt to grasp each other's hands, fettered as they were. they were very close to each other, and many succeeded. three or four in a row were hand in hand, and all hands swaying up and down with the rise and fall of their voices. one old man reached out on each side, but could not grasp a hand; his struggles were piteous and affected many beholders. those who understood their manners and language said that their singing and shouting was necessary to sustain each other. each one shouted his own name and called on the name of his friend, saying in substance: "i am here! i am here!" the supreme moment arrived, and amid an immense concourse of citizens and soldiers the drop fell, and thirty-eight human beings, whose hands were steeped in innocent blood and who had spread such desolation and sorrow to thousands of happy homes, were ushered into the presence of their maker. the arrangements were under the immediate supervision of captain burt, of the seventh regiment, and they were so complete that there was not the slightest hitch. "positions of honor were given to the most interested. for instance, the cutting of the rope was assigned to william j. daly, of lake shetek, who had three children killed and his wife and two children captured, and who were at this time in the hands of little crow, on the missouri, and were afterward ransomed by major galpin at fort pierre." the quotation i make here is from a book in the public library, and i found penciled on the margin by one of those persons who take advantage of the courtesies extended by public libraries, the following: "so should every remaining indian be 'elevated'!" nay! nay! scribbler. we cannot tell why one man's face is black and another red, while yours and mine are white. would you mete out the same measure to the whites? innocency among the indians, per capita, is not more rare than among their more favored white brethren, and we are brethren of a different hue. punish the guilty, be he white or black, but protect the innocent. after the bodies had hung for about half an hour, the physicians of the several regiments present examined them and reported that life was extinct. the bodies were carried away in united states mule teams and dumped in one common grave, dug in the sand bar in front of the city, the half-breeds in one corner of the hole so they might be found by their friends if they so desired. there may be times and circumstances when a christian people can afford to act as we expect the benighted to do; but it has not arrived yet. no matter what the crime, the penalty has been paid, and after the spirit has gone to god to be adjudged, it is part of our civilization to be decent in our conduct toward all that remains mortal. it is not necessary to make a great display, but that we perform our duty according to our law. we have taken a life in accordance with a human law, and in justification of it we quote, "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." no matter how atrocious the deed, after the penalty has been paid we cannot as a christian people, apologize for our acts of barbarism to the inanimate clay. after the mandate of the president had been executed the telegraph flashed to washington the following: "st. paul, minn., december , . "to the president of the united states: "i have the honor to inform you that the thirty-eight indians and half-breeds, ordered by you for execution, were hung on yesterday at mankato, at ten a. m. everything went off quietly, and the other prisoners are well secured. "henry h. sibley, "brigadier-general." with this the curtain drops on this bloody drama, and thus ended the great indian campaign of . chapter xxvii. squaws take leave of their husbands. the condemned men, and the others who were to be deported after the execution took place, were called upon to bid good-bye to their wives and children, who were to be taken down to fort snelling. the wives were allowed a few at a time to go inside the jail and with the children have words of conversation with the husband and father. after a reasonable time they took leave of them. there were no hysterics, no sobs, no tears, but the heart-beats and the thoughts were there. love? yes. how deep, no white on-looker could tell. it was a supreme moment to the poor indian and his dusky wife. their roads were very divergent from this time, and in low tones they answered in their own tongue. some of the soldiers made slighting remarks, but there are those among educated whites who have no serious moments, no serious thoughts; they have not time to be serious, and no inclination; but this was a serious time for those poor creatures; they knew the hour had arrived when they must say good-bye forever on earth to their red-skinned partners in life's joys and sorrows. no hand shake; no embrace; no crying; but a sorrowful, affectionate look, and they turn their back on them forever. the women and children are taken down to fort snelling, and in a camp prepared for them they are put for the winter, and a strong guard placed about them to prevent any outrages being committed. the night the news was carried to them of the execution the wails of the poor creatures could be heard for a long distance away: "rachael mourning for her children and would not be comforted, because they were not." much sorrow was expressed for them because we could but feel that they were unfortunate creatures, endowed with all the attributes of human beings. the mortality among them was very great and hundreds died before the winter of suspense had passed away. in april, , the camp was broken up and the remaining ones were placed in a steamer for st. louis, from whence they were to be sent up the missouri river to the crow creek agency. some died on the way, and as they left their homes and looked for the last time on their native hills, a dark cloud was crushing out their hearts. soon after landing at crow creek every tepee had its sick and anxious hearts--mothers and children far away from their dead. the deported ones joined their families in time, and as the years glide on they have had time for reflection, and the events, as they undoubtedly come trooping back to them, furnish food for thought. chapter xxviii. capture and release of joe brown's indian family. we knew major brown well. he was known to nearly all early settlers, because he came to minnesota when the white people were very few. he felt that it was not well for man to live alone, a white man especially, and so he took unto himself a dusky bride. he was in government employ and a big white chief among his new found wife's people and to whom he was a friend. as he grew in years his family grew also, and the dusky mother's household cares increased. yes, they lived in a fine stone house, elegantly furnished, down on the yellow medicine below the agency, but which came in the way of his red brother's vengeance, and it was destroyed. the brown family lived happily in their rather modern home. the major attended to his official duties, and the wife and boys cultivated the land; but in common with all the others during these sad days, their only safety was in flight. their home, including books and furniture, was totally destroyed. the father was a fugitive and his family prisoners. they did not suffer as some others did, because the wife and mother was a full blood and was related to the sisseton tribe and had powerful friends among them. their capture, captivity, and final release, as related by samuel brown, the fifteen-year-old boy, is an interesting recital. he says: on monday, the th day of august, i went to yellow medicine with my sister ellen upon an errand. we met on the way an indian named little dog, who told us that the indians had killed a family at beaver creek, and were going to kill the whites as far as st. paul, and that we must not tell any one about it, or they would kill us. he said he warned us at the risk of his own life. this was about noon. soon after our arrival at yellow medicine an old squaw told us that we had better be getting away, as there would be trouble. we asked many of the other indians about it, but they said they had heard of nothing of the kind. another squaw afterward told us that she thought it must be the yanktonais who were coming down to take the agency. we left them about half-past three o'clock. george gleason had just left with mrs. wakefield and her children for below. when we reached home we told mother what we heard. she was very much scared and did not sleep any that night. about four o'clock next morning i heard some one outside calling in a loud voice a number of times for my mother, and then i heard charles blair, my brother-in-law (a white man), ask what was the matter, and the man, who was a half-breed named royer, said that four hundred yanktonais had arrived at the upper agency and were killing everybody. we then became very much alarmed, and had our oxen yoked at once to the wagon, put everything in we could, and started for fort ridgely. we had all the neighbors warned, and they went with us. they had three wagons, with ox teams. four or five white men overtook us on the road, among them garvey's cook (garvey was the trader wounded at the agency, and who afterward died at hutchinson.) when we had gone about five miles we saw some men two miles ahead, near the bank of the river, but supposed they were farmers. the yanktonais, whom we were afraid of, lived above us. we thought nothing about the men until we saw an indian on a hill ahead of us. he beckoned to others, and before we knew it we were surrounded. de-wa-nea, of crow's band, and cut-nose and shakopee, three of the worst among the lower indians, came to us first. we were in the head wagon. mother told them who we were, and they said we must follow them, and that we were all as good as dead. de-wa-nea said that the whites had taken him prisoner a good many times and that it was now his turn. he wanted the rest of the indians to kill us all. there was an indian in the party, john moore's brother-in-law, who took our part, and he and his friends saved us from the others. this indian had once come to our house when he was freezing and my mother took him in and warmed him. he told the other indians that he remembered this, and that we should live. they insisted that my brother angus should shoot one of the white men, but he refused to do so. each of the indians had one of the whites picked out to shoot as they came up. my mother said they were poor men and it would do no good to kill them. john moore's brother-in-law said they should live if she wanted them to. the indians made a great fuss about it, and said she ought to be satisfied with what she had got, but afterwards consented and told the men to start off. the women stayed with us. after the men had got off a little, leopold wohler, who had a lime-kiln at the agency, came back to the wagon after his boots, and an indian told him if he didn't go away he would kill him. he started off with one boot, and came back again for the other, and the indian drove him away again with the same threat. he went a short distance and came back again to kiss his wife. the indians then became very much enraged, and acted so fiercely that he was glad to escape without further difficulty. there were ten indians close to us, and twenty-five or thirty near, running into the houses. they made angus and charles blair, who were riding horses, give them up. de-wa-nea put on my sister's bonnet and began singing a war song. he was very merry. he said the indians were now going to have a good time, and if they got killed it was all right; that the whites wanted to kill them off, and were delaying the payment in order to do it by starvation, and that he preferred to be shot. we saw three men and a woman on the road terribly hacked up. this party had committed the murders. the men had been mowing together; their scythes and pitchforks were lying near by. cut-nose showed us his thumb, from which a piece had been bitten near the nail, and he said it was done by one of these men while he was working the knife around in his breast; that he was very hard to kill, and he thought he would never die. cut-nose afterward went to a wagon and told a scotch girl who was in it that he wanted her for his wife, and to get out and follow him. she refused, and he then drew his knife and flourished it over her, and she got out and went away with him. that was the last i saw of him until we got to camp. he was called cut-nose because one of his nostrils had been bitten out. this was done by other day in a quarrel. when we reached the camp of the red creek indians, four miles above the redwood river, they told us that the agency indians had sent word for all to come down there, and that those who did not come would be taken care of by the "soldiers' lodge." they were then about starting, and an indian made augus and myself hitch up a mule team which he said he had taken from captain marsh's men the day before. he said they had just heard a cannon at the fort and they wanted to go down and whip the whites there. this was about noon. we then went down to john moore's house (this was where other day's horse was stolen), and they put us upstairs, where they had two or three women captives. we were there about an hour, when three indians told us to come up to their camp on the hill, where we were to stop with john moore's mother, or grandmother. we followed them, and when we got halfway up suddenly missed them. we supposed they hid from us, and we wandered on. we met a german woman who had seven or eight children with her, all under eight years of age,--two on her back, one under each arm and two following behind. they came along with us. we went to moore's relative, but she said she knew nothing about us and couldn't take us, and that we had better go down to crow's village. we started, not knowing where to go, when a squaw, who was crying about the troubles, met us, and took us home with her. the indians sent our team back to camp. they gave augus and i blankets and moccasins, and we put them on and went down to see little crow. he told us to bring our folks down there, and no one should hurt us. this was tuesday evening, about seven o'clock. he was in his own house, and the camp was pitched around it. we went back and brought our folks down. little crow put us up in the top room of the house, and gave us buffalo robes and everything to make us comfortable. he brought us a candle as soon as it was dark; he was very kind to us; he said he would take as good care of us as he could, but he didn't believe he could keep charley blair alive until morning. he gave him a breech clout and leggings, which he put on. during the night an indian or a half-breed came in the room downstairs where crow was, and told him that we ought to be killed. we overheard what they said. the man was very ugly, and said no prisoners ought to be taken, and that we were related to the sissetons, and had no claim on the lower indians, and there was no reason why we should be spared. he said he wanted crow to call a council about it immediately. crow told him that he saved us because we were his friends, and that he would protect us; that it was too late to hold a council that night, and he compelled him to leave. he gave us plenty to eat, and came up several times during the night to see how we were getting along. we begged him to let charley blair go. he said he couldn't; that the indians knew he was there, and would kill him (crow) if he allowed it. we coaxed him for a couple of hours, when he consented, and brought an indian, who took charley down to the river and left him in the brush. he made his escape from there to the fort. crow told us not to say anything about it, for the indians would kill him, and that he did it because he had known our folks so long. he said the young men started the massacre, and he could not stop them. a week after that akipu, an upper indian, came down from the yellow medicine agency and took us up with him. from that time until our deliverance we remained with our relatives, and were well treated by them. the foregoing recital is just as the boy gave it, and in subsequent conversations with the father it was substantially verified. major brown, after recovering his family, lived for a few years, and did much toward assisting the government in adjusting the many claims brought against it by persons who had suffered so much at the hands of the indians. he died a number of years ago, but the members of his family live and are much respected in the community in which they live. chapter xxix. governor ramsey and hole-in-the-day. alexander ramsey, of minnesota, is the last of the famous coterie of war governors; a band that will be immortal. curtin, of pennsylvania; dix, of new york; dennison, of ohio; morton, of indiana; randall, of wisconsin; yates, of illinois; blair, of michigan; andrew, of massachusetts; and kirkwood, of iowa;--a notable group, stalwart, rugged patriots with hearts beating as one. comprehending the danger that menaced the nation, confronted with no easy task, these grand old stalwarts pledged their states to uphold, with men and money, the general government. they have passed away honored by a grateful country and beloved by the men who responded to their call. governor ramsey alone remains, and in the national grand army encampment held in st. paul in he was a central figure. passed, as he has, beyond the allotted time of man, measure full and running over, he saw the salvation of his country, proud of the part minnesota's sons took in its restoration, and proud to meet them after the smoke of battle had cleared away. governor ramsey, being in washington at the time of the first call for troops, promptly responded in person to the president, and tendered a regiment from minnesota, and it was accepted; and it was the first to be accepted. he immediately telegraphed to adjutant general william henry acker to at once issue a call for one regiment of three months men. [illustration: hole-in-the-day.] the companies were soon filled up, and adjutant-general acker was commissioned as captain of company "c." he was afterwards commissioned as captain in the sixteenth u. s. infantry, and was killed at shiloh. governor ramsey was elected united states senator from minnesota, and served his state faithfully and well, and was at one time secretary of war. at this writing he is hale and hearty, honored by men of all political faith. governor ramsey's part in the indian trouble was more than commissioning officers and sending men to the frontier. the chippewas were in a turbulent state of mind, and hole-in-the-day, their chief, did not seem inclined to soften their feelings to the government, but rather encouraged them in their desire to break their compact. he said to his people that "we had all we could manage, with our brethren in the south, and if they pleased to combine with the sioux, their power could not be resisted." this surely was cause for alarm,--alarm for the safety of the state, and it required strong measures to curb this uprising among these indians. commissioner dole lost hope of successfully meeting the demands of the indians, and dispatched a messenger to governor ramsey asking him to hasten to his relief. the governor lost no time, and with two or three others were soon on the way. he did not go with an army carrying banners, but quietly and unostentatiously met the chippewa chiefs, and soon adjusted all difficulties. when it became known to hole-in-the-day that general sibley had an overwhelming force, he was then desirous to befriend the state and assist in making a treaty of perpetual friendship with the whites, and assist them in fighting little crow. and after the battle of wood lake the winnebagoes, who were inclined to go to war against the "pale faces," concluded it best to court his favor and proclaim war against the sioux. prior to this, all the tribes in wisconsin had sent their "wampums" to the winnebago chief, and a council of war had been fixed for the th of september. there seemed to be indications that an unfriendly white element was stirring up strife among all our indian neighbors, and hence the impression that it was emissaries from the south who were doing it. it came from high authority that evidence existed to show that "the western tribes are going to join the south." it was a critical moment for this country. slavery existed yet, and god's hand was laying heavily upon us. federal reverses and confederate successes cast a gloom over the north, and loyal men trembled, while the copper-head came forth and, with an exultant hiss, impeded the progress of the government in its efforts to bring about an honorable peace. under these depressing conditions governor ramsey, to whom all looked with so much solicitude, nerved himself to bring about an amicable settlement with the chippewas. in three days from the time of departure, governor ramsey returned, having effected a settlement of all misunderstandings on september th, . the public mind was relieved, for nearly every chief of the nation being present to sign this treaty of peace, all hostile demonstrations ceased, and they evinced their further friendship by coming to st. paul to return governor ramsey's visit, and tender their services to general pope to operate against the sioux. the governor assured them he was pleased to know they had not stained their hands in innocent blood, as the sioux had done;--that he would communicate their desire to join the white soldiers to the big chief, general pope, and he would send for them. the talk they had with the governor so pleased them that they became confidential and talkative. their responses thus far had been grunts and "ho, hos," but chief berry hunter said the words they listened to "went right into his ears, and they were good," and although he was an old man he had not lost his reason. that they had come down to show their white brothers they felt very friendly, and never desired to have any other feeling towards them. big dog, another of their noted chiefs, whose hands were very red, said he had painted them purposely, so that if he should kill an enemy and blood got on his hands it would not stain them. governor ramsey extended them an invitation to ride in the "fire wagon" to st. anthony (now east minneapolis). this meant that he would take them on the train. railroading in minnesota at this time was new to the white people, and the beautiful engines were objects of delight and admiration to them, and more so to the indians, who were much interested in everything they saw in and about the locomotive, and they expressed great wonder at the steam whistle, and invariably ducked their heads as its shrill notes broke upon their ears. they did not wish to appear as cowards, but, like white soldiers dodging bullets after they had passed, so they inadvertently would "duck" when the whistle blew, and afterward have a hearty laugh over it. chapter xxx. chaska--george spencer--chaska's death--the "moscow" expedition. chaska and george spencer were great friends, and there was reason for it, as you will see. it was in george spencer's store where the first shot was fired, and he was the victim. he ran upstairs, but the indians surrounded the place and threatened to burn the store, which they probably would have done but for the fact they wanted the goods. they could not muster courage to go upstairs to kill him, because they naturally thought: "what would he be doing while we are trying to kill him?" an old squaw got him out the back way and secreted him in her tepee, and the indians finally burnt the building, and supposed he had perished in the flames. the squaw turned him over to his indian friend chaska, and when the other indians, who supposed he was dead already, saw him quite alive, they were much puzzled, for they had no inkling of his escape. [illustration: house of chaska, a civilized indian.] he was the only white man at the agency who did escape, and can attribute it to the friendly ministration of those two native americans, chaska and the squaw. it was no miraculous escape, but a plain case of genuine friendship toward a white man by an indian. an indian will avenge a wrong--that is his nature. it is born in him, and it cannot be blotted out; so, too, will he remember a kindness with an equal degree of fidelity, and, under any and all circumstances, will "stick closer than a brother." friend spencer in this case found that the investment he had made in kindness to this red man was a paying one--it came in good time--his life was surely in jeopardy, and no miracle, but a faithful indian, saved him, and this indian was chaska, a chief whom little crow had depended upon to help carry on the war. his friendship for spencer was great, and when his friend's life was threatened, he with a double shooter in his hands would cry out: "shoot if you like, kill him if you will, but two of you will come out of your saddles if you do." chaska dressed his friend in indian garb and painted his face. it became necessary to kite him about, first in one friendly tepee and then in another, so that the spies could not keep track of him. i remember well the day i spoke with him. he had been wounded and was suffering from this, and the long days and nights of anxiety had told on him, but now that he could throw all this off he said he would soon be on the speedy round to complete recovery. chaska was faithful to his friend of former years. he was desirous of becoming a white man so far as he could, by adopting their manners and customs. he came to see general sibley one morning in his indian garb, and the general said to him: "i am not pleased to see you in your blanket." "then i will wear it no more," was his reply. he washed off the paint from his face, trimmed his hair, and dressed as a citizen. he desired to live in a house rather than a tepee and to have his children attend school. this was the wish of all the friendly indians. they instituted reforms in the social fabric, and in marrying, the rite was performed by an ordained minister, the same as among their white brethren. poor chaska, i remember well the night he died, for at the time a strong suspicion pointed toward a member of my own regiment, who was a clerk in the hospital department, and there never was a doubt but chaska's death was by poison administered by this man. george spencer, his white friend, said of him: "on the second day of our return from the missouri, we rode along talking pleasantly of the future, he telling me how he would like to be situated on a small farm of land near me, and congratulating himself that his trouble was over, and that he would soon be restored to the bosom of his family. alas, for my friend! he now sleeps tranquilly near the turbid waters of the missouri, under the shadow of our intrenchments. savage though he was, he was a noble man!" the night he died he had gone around to his white friend's tent, where he was always welcome, and supped with him and arranged for carrying in the commissary wagon, a pack of furs he had captured. he went to his quarters after taking a dose of medicine and was soon taken ill. he sent for his white comrade, who went immediately to his bedside, to find him senseless, dying. in his delirium he predicted a thunderstorm that would shake the earth and blind the people the day he was put in the ground, and the prediction came true. he did not once recognize his friend, who remained with him, closing his eyes with a sorrowful heart. he died at the age of thirty-two, leaving a wife and two interesting children. he was faithful among the faithless. [illustration: the sentinel.] chapter xxxi. the "moscow" expedition. this expedition, well named "moscow," will be remembered by the participants so long as they live. the government had decided to remove all the indians to fort thompson, a military post on the missouri, and after it had been done, it was found a little later that they were in a starving condition. general pope communicated this fact to the authorities at washington, and that the indian agent had applied to him to furnish an escort for a supply train, that would be sent from minnesota rather than from sioux city, iowa. three companies were designated to undertake this perilous journey, and placed in command of captain j. c. whitney, of the sixth minnesota. it was impossible to hire teamsters to go, so an offer of twenty-five cents per day was made to the soldiers in addition to their $ per month; but the undertaking was too hazardous and the offer was refused. the bid was raised until it reached $ . per day extra, when a few soldiers agreed to accept. on the th day of november a partial start was made, but one delay after another occurred until the case became desperate, and the teamsters finally got two dollars a day extra. the fact was, the soldiers rebelled, and in order to frustrate the plans of the contractors the wagons were so disabled that it was impossible to move. colonel crooks, of the sixth minnesota, took matters in hand so vigorously that the soldiers knew that the expedition would have to move at all hazards, and it was foolish and dangerous to object and waste any more time. several arrests of mutinous soldiers were made, but upon promises of better conduct they were released, and the "moscow" expedition was finally and fully launched on the th day of november, . the undertaking was hazardous, but the men were supplied with the best of sibley tents and blankets in plenty. under the most favorable circumstances it was not a picnic, but barring the stinging cold days and colder nights, with a few frozen noses, no serious mishap overtook the brave soldier boys of this celebrated "moscow" expedition. the return march was by way of sioux city, iowa, and the first post in minnesota was reached on december th, . during the trip the command encountered severe storms and the thermometer at times fell to degrees below zero--but thirteen dollars a month in depreciated currency was a fair compensation. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. camp pope. where the troops assembled for the campaign of .] chapter xxxii. campaign of --camp pope. in october, , general john pope had informed general halleck that five minnesota regiments could be sent south by november , but local influences were at work to prevent the transfer of troops, as it seemed very likely that hostilities would be renewed by the indians again in the spring, and the demand that the state should be fully protected against these roving bands was acceded to, and orders were forthwith issued to the various companies to proceed at once to points designated on the frontier and go into winter quarters. rumors were afloat at all times, but there really was no danger, and the soldiers had little to do but attend to a light guard duty and while away the tedious hours as best they could. the campaign of was planned by general john pope, and general h. h. sibley, who was in command of the district of minnesota, with headquarters at st. paul, was selected to command the minnesota column, and general alfred sully to command the column that was to proceed up the west bank of the missouri. these two columns were to co-operate for the final extinction of the indians; but the low water of the missouri prevented the plan from being carried out. the rendezvous of the sibley column was at a point near the mouth of the red wood river, and twenty-five miles above fort ridgely. the forces comprising the expedition organizing at this point were the sixth, the seventh and the tenth regiments of minnesota infantry, under colonels william crooks, william r. marshall and james h. baker; eight pieces of artillery, under command of captain john jones; the mounted rangers, under colonel mcphail; indian scouts and other small detachments, which brought the force up to , infantry, cavalry and artillerymen. the camp, named in honor of general john pope, then in command of the department of the northwest, was situated at the mouth of red wood river, in the vicinity of the place where the outbreak was inaugurated. the various regiments, composed of infantry, cavalry and artillery, rendezvoused here. colonel william crooks, of the sixth minnesota, was in temporary command, and soon after the troops began to assemble, guard mount, company and regimental drills were the order of the day. the land upon which we were encamped was a perfect level, and in order to attain better discipline, and instruct the men in works of defense, a complete system of sod breastworks and bastions were erected about the camp, of sufficient width to admit of the sentinels being placed on the top of them. it was really a magnificent piece of engineering and reflected credit on the officer in command. the sentinels were instructed to "walk the beat" all in the same direction, turn about at the same time and retrace their steps, so that an enemy could not creep in between them. this was done to instruct the men in guard duty and keep them out of mischief, for there really was no danger. on the th day of june, , the monotony of the camp was relieved by the arrival of general sibley and his staff. this official family consisted of captain r. c. olin, a. a. g.; captain forbes, brigade commissary; captain atchinson, ordnance officer; captain edward l. corning, brigade commissary; captain kimball, a. q. m.; first lieutenants douglas pope, f. j. h. beaver, joseph r. putnam and charles h. flandreau, aides-de-camp, and rev. s. r. riggs, brigade chaplain. the cannon, placed across the river on the high bluff, boomed forth the intelligence that the cavalcade of brilliantly uniformed officers was approaching, and the general doffed his hat in salute as he rode down the long line of soldiers who stood at "present arms." general henry h. sibley, who had gained the confidence and universal respect and love of the soldiers, was again with us. soon after his arrival he received the sad intelligence of a beloved daughter's death. but the responsibilities resting upon him would not admit of days of mourning; there was no time for communion with grief; the needs of the hour reminded him of his duty. while lying at camp pope, general sibley heard that a party of indians were on their way down to the settlements, and would cross red wood river at a certain point the next night. he at once gave orders that my own company, the one that had sustained such losses at birch coolie, should proceed at once to watch for and intercept this band. we received the orders at midnight, and with three days' rations, and sixty rounds of ammunition, started out on our mission in charge of first lieutenant harry j. gillhams. we had no doctor with us; no team; not even an ambulance. i never thought our general knew of this, for he was a very careful man, and the question with me was: "if we are attacked and meet with losses in killed or wounded what shall we do with them in the absence of any means of transportation?" we arrived at the point designated the next day about noon and halted. there was no going into camp, for we had no tents. we simply halted and waited for night and indians. i was in hopes that the indians would not come, and i got my wish. there were others hoping they would come, and among those most desirous for them to make their appearance were our three full blooded indian soldiers we had captured, and who were present at the various battles the year before. one of them, joe alord, a powerful fellow, claimed to have a grudge against his own people. he said they had always treated him badly, and he wanted to fight them, but i was a little suspicious of him--did not think him sincere. this alord formed a strong attachment for me, which endured until he was finally mustered out. he went south with us and stood the climate, and proved himself a faithful soldier. i at one time saved him from death by his own hands. he had been punished by the colonel for an offense of which he said he was not guilty. i think myself he had been imposed upon, like "old dog tray," by getting into bad company. the colonel, as a punishment, ordered him to parade up and down the square with a bag of sand on his back. this was galling to the indian, and calling me to one side, he said: "sergeant, me kill me mine self; me kill me mine self!" i tried to persuade him from his purpose, but he seemed determined to carry out his threat, and i watched him closely. i could see he was very much aggrieved, for to him the humiliation was galling. he grabbed a bayonet, and putting it to his breast, attempted to throw the weight of his body and thus push it through him. i jumped and kicked it from under him just in time and then put him in a cell until he became more reconciled. soon after the close of the war he enlisted in the regular cavalry, but one morning he was missing. he had deserted, taking his horse and all his equipments with him; and although he was posted as a deserter, he was not heard of for many months. when heard from it was to the effect that he had gone back to the indians, taking the horse and all plunder with him. the old grudge against him was rekindled and intensified on account of the course he pursued against his people during the sioux war, and some of the young bucks, engaging him in a controversy, it resulted in his death. the indian soldier miller was inclined to be pious. he served until the close of the war, and afterwards was caught on the prairie in a severe thunder storm, from which he took refuge in a barn, which was struck by lightning and he was killed. the third was named walker. at the outbreak he was home on vacation from bishop whipple's school at faribault, minn., and was taken prisoner. i have referred to these indian soldiers once before. walker was quite well educated and now lives near st. paul. these three indian boys were with us on this midnight expedition, and i felt they would bear watching, because i could not make up my mind to the fact that they should want to so suddenly turn against their own people. about midnight the second night an incident happened that gave us some alarm for a little while. we were all on duty watching and listening for indians. you have heard about the burnt child dreading the fire. well, we had been seriously burnt at birch coolie, and did not relish another taste of the same sort of fire, and it is not astonishing under such circumstances how many indian sounds there are to the square foot. every minute some of us heard an indian sound, and all at once joe alord skipped out in the darkness, and immediately he was followed by miller. i at once thought it was treachery, and the same opinion prevailed among nearly all the boys. i was but a sergeant then and of course could not assume supreme authority. if i had been in command i should have held the remaining one as a hostage. he wanted to go after the other two and gained the consent of the lieutenant to do so, and away he went out in the darkness. i expected soon to hear the crack of the rifle, for i felt satisfied that they had proved false to us. after they were gone half an hour and returned to our lines with the news that the noise they heard was not indians we all felt relieved. but the half hour was an anxious one, and we were rejoiced to have them return. the indians we were sent out to intercept did not appear, and the next day our little expedition returned to camp. chapter xxxiii. "forward march." on the th day of june, , with the thermometer degrees in the shade, all things being in readiness, the column took up the line of march into the almost unexplored region of dakota territory. this invading army was composed of nearly five thousand men, with a pontoon train, and an adequate ammunition and commissary train composed of four- and six-mule teams; and these, with the troops, really made a formidable army. the big train, five miles long, was necessary, because the expedition was headed for an unknown and hostile country, and expected to traverse a territory totally devoid of vegetables of any sort, and game would probably be very scarce. the force was well organized, and the appearance of the train alone would awe the whole sioux nation. it was a season of drouth such as was never before known in the west. the prairies were literally parched up with the heat, the grass was burned up, and the sloughs and little streams were dry. the fierce prairie winds were like the hot siroccos of the desert, and great clouds of dust, raised by the immense column, could be seen for miles and were viewed in wonder. we suffered from the heat, the dust and the weight of our knapsacks, gun and equipments, for the first day. the second day was as hot and dry, but the knapsacks were much lighter. any one, even at this late date and so far removed from the days of the war, who thinks that a soldier's life is an easy one, that war is a picnic, is not endowed with common "horse sense." and yet there are those who thus express themselves. the trains were soon being relieved of a part of their load by us drawing rations, and we had transportation to carry our individual loads. i cannot in the few pages allotted me follow the daily march of general sibley and his hosts; but will, after a hard day's march of eighteen prairie miles (twenty-five in god's country), with heavy knapsacks, halt, stack arms, pitch our tents and direct letters from camp sibley, for such it was named, in honor of our commander. the general had decided to observe sunday as a day of rest, deeming it necessary for the welfare of man and beast. there is no doubt but better service was rendered for so doing, and general sibley was honored for this proper respect shown the lord's day. the several camps were named after the officers in the command, the senior officers taking precedence; first, the colonels, then lieutenant-colonels, etc., etc. nothing of an unusual nature other than a prairie fire occurred until we reached camp atchison, where the forces were divided, and this will be the subject of a future chapter. [illustration: prairie on fire.] chapter xxxiv. burning prairie--fighting fire. we started out on an exploring expedition to hunt indians when we left camp pope. on the prairies there are enemies of various sorts--indians, dust, heat and fire. the latter is a most formidable weapon with the indian if the grass is plentiful and the weather dry, and they can use it to great advantage if the attacking party is not cool headed. our sentinels were always instructed to report fire at once, no matter how far off it might appear to be. this enemy came in good time--it appeared one night when there was a high wind. the flames spread, becoming one vast sheet, sweeping over the prairies--a very roaring cataract of fire, the billows of which reached to the clouds. coming on at this rapid, relentless rate, it would envelop and destroy the whole command. to arms! to arms! we are called, by bugle and by drum, and in face of this enemy, at a "double quick," we march out to meet it. in case of fire the animals are frenzied, and it was a question at one time whether there would not be a stampede. the only way to conquer this sort of an enemy is to fight fire with fire, and this is done by burning away from you; so we started our fire, and as it burned away from us, we took possession of the burnt area as the fire demon in the rear came roaring on to consume us in his hot embrace. the red flames roared on high, the dense smoke obscured the moon and the stars, the atmosphere was stifling and thick with coal black dust, and the roar, as the fire fiend rolled on towards us, would have struck terror to the stoutest heart did we not know that his fury would soon be spent. chapter xxxv. death of little crow. we will halt the column for a little and hunt in another direction for little crow. he had not been captured and would not surrender after the battle of wood lake in . carried away with the idea that he would receive proper recognition and the confidence of the indians he started away towards the british dominions. devil's lake was always a favorite "summer resort" for the indians, and perhaps we can find him there. in the state of dakota, nearly five hundred miles west from st. paul, minn., is the celebrated minnewakan, or devil's lake. it is about sixty-five miles in length, and its waters are as salt as are those of the ocean. the immediate shores are part timber and part prairie; but a mile beyond, the country is one vast rolling prairie, destitute of trees, and dotted over with little lakes of salt water. this inland sea is a romantic place, and is well filled with fish, and game quite plentifully can be found there. among other things are sea gulls and swan. the shore of the lake is covered with petrified wood, and the bones of fishes and animals are in abundance. to this neighborhood little crow and his followers, after the defeat at wood lake, minn., wended their way and encamped, where they were joined by nearly all the minnesota sioux who had not surrendered or been captured. there were in all about , souls, and among them were yanktonais. during the winter the chief sent out runners with messages and presents to many of the western tribes, and endeavored to enlist them as allies in a general war. about the first of june little crow went to st. joseph and fort garry to gain recognition from the british, as well as to obtain ammunition, but both were refused him. when at st. joseph little crow had on a black coat with velvet collar, a lady's fine shawl adorned his head, and another was knotted around his waist. he had discarded his rifle, and carried a pistol instead, which latter was one of his trophies from the last summer's raid. he had learned of the deportation of his friends to the missouri, of which the white residents there had as yet received no information. crow received the news in advance from an indian who had outstripped the regular mail. he and sixty of his braves had a war dance, after which he made a speech, in which he said that he considered himself as good as dead, but that he still had plenty of warriors upon whom he could rely, and would not be caught during the summer. he failed to get the recognition he thought he was entitled to as commander-in-chief of the sioux army then in the field. it is a little strange that he could not be recognized, when cannibal kings from the islands of the sea can get recognition, and the devotees of royalty will tumble over each other to pay their respects to a lecherous, murderous turk. being disappointed in this, he made up his mind to slip through the cordon of posts that had been established for the protection of the people, and while general sibley with his army was hunting for him away towards the missouri, he would, single-handed and alone, go horse stealing down in the settlements. alas! how are the mighty fallen! from a commander-in-chief, seeking recognition of a foreign nation, he at once becomes a vagabond horse thief. his son, crow, jr., was his only confidant, and to him he said: "i am getting old and cannot fight the white men, but will go below, steal horses from them for you children, so you may be comfortable, and then i can go away where they cannot catch me." the whole party that went with the fallen chief numbered sixteen men and one squaw. crow, jr., whose indian name was wa-wi-nap-a (one who appeareth), was with his father near hutchinson, minn., picking berries to "stay their stomachs," when they were discovered by a mr. lamson and his son chauncey. this was friday evening, july , , and the skirmish that followed between crow, his son, and the lamsons prevented the sioux chief from celebrating the fourth of july in any sort of patriotic manner, for two shots from the trusty rifle of mr. lamson sent crow's soul on its eternal mission to the happy hunting ground of his fathers. mr. lamson and his son were out in the country and they saw two indians picking berries in an "opening" in the woods. the indians did not discover the white men, who were taking aim at them. mr. lamson had crept cautiously forward among the vines and rested his gun against a tree and fired. his first shot took effect, but not a deadly one, as evinced by the loud yell of his victim, who fell to the ground severely wounded. with prudence and caution mr. lamson retreated a short distance, where he could obtain shelter from behind some bushes. the wounded indian, not to be foiled, crept after him, and thus they were brought face to face. another shot from the white man and the indian was dead. his companions, his own son and another indian, mounted a horse and fled. the indian's shot, however, had not gone amiss, for it lodged in mr. lamson's shoulder, and he being some distance from his son, was supposed by him to be killed. the son returned to town to give the alarm. a quick response brought men to the scene of conflict, where they found the dead indian, but mr. lamson was missing. a singular thing about it was that crow was laid out, his head resting on his rolled-up coat, and he had a new pair of moccasins on. it would appear as though his son returned to make sure of his father's death, and finding him dead, he performed this last deed.[a] [footnote a: brown's valley, minn., nov. .--nathan lamson, the man who, during the indian outbreak in minnesota in , killed little crow, the famous sioux chieftain, died to-day on his farm across the line in south dakota, aged .--[chicago times-herald, dec. , .] mr. lamson's wound was a severe one, but he made his way back to his home, which he reached about two o'clock the next morning. little crow's body was brought to town, and the coat he had on was recognized as belonging to a man who had been found murdered some weeks before. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. mr. lamson shooting little crow near hutchinson, minn., in august, .] the body of this murderous old chief, after it lay in state on the ground for a day or two, was dumped into an unhonored grave, and no tears of regret were shed for him. while this was being done down in minnesota, a military train five miles long was in pursuit of him up in dakota; and the news did not reach general sibley for two weeks. the description given of this indian was so accurate that the general said it was no other than little crow. this again was corroborated by his son, who was some weeks after captured in a starving condition. thus ended the ignominious life of little crow, the great sioux chief who had influenced his people to believe that the time had come for them to reclaim their lost empire. chapter xxxvi. little crow, jr.--his capture. after the death of crow, senior, as narrated in the preceding chapter, his son and heir, wo-wi-nap-a, becomes an important character in this chapter, and we will follow him and hear what he has to say about his father's death. when he was satisfied that his father was dead he started off he knew not where. he was a fugitive, a miserable creature, bereft of home, country and parents--a human being without a country, but with a soul--in a land where every hand was raised against him; a fugitive from an enraged white people because of the sins of his father. he hid by day and travelled by night until beyond the white settlements. he was captured by a company of soldiers who were out hunting indians in the region of devil's lake, dakota. when captured he was in a starving condition and glad to get even among uncle sam's soldiers. he was questioned as to his father and where he had been. he said: "i am the son of little crow; my name is wo-wi-nap-a, and i am sixteen years old. father said he was getting old and wanted me to go with him to carry his bundles. he left his wives and other children behind. there were sixteen men and one squaw in the party that went below with us. we had no horses, but walked all the way down to the settlements. father and i were picking red berries near scattered lake at the time he was shot. it was near night. he was hit the first time in the side, just above the hip. his gun and mine were lying on the ground. he took up my gun and fired it first, and then fired his own. he was shot the second time while firing his own gun. the ball struck the stock of the gun and then hit him in the side near the shoulder. this was the shot that killed him. he told me that he was killed and asked me for water, which i gave him. he died immediately after. when i heard the first shot fired i laid down and the man did not see me before father was killed. "a short time before father was killed an indian named hi-a-ka, who married the daughter of my father's second wife, came to him. he had a horse with him, also a gray-colored blanket that he had taken from a man whom he had killed, to the north of where father was killed. he gave the coat to my father, telling him that he would need it when it rained, as he had no coat with him. hi-a-ka said he had a horse now and was going north. he further said that the indians who went down with them had separated, and he had not seen them since." after the death of his father young crow took both guns and started for devil's lake. he had no ammunition, but found a cartridge and cut it into slugs. with this he shot a wolf and ate some of it. his strength gave out, and twenty-six days after his father was killed he was captured. the old chief was a great wooer of the fair sex, for his son said of him: "my father had two wives before he took my mother; the first one had one son, the second a son and daughter; the third wife was my mother. after taking my mother he put away the first two; he had seven children by my mother; six are dead; i am the only one living now; the fourth wife had four children born; do not know whether any died or not; two were boys, two were girls; the fifth wife had five children; three of them are dead, two are living; the sixth wife had three children; all of them are dead; the oldest was a boy, the other two were girls; the last four wives were sisters." this young savage was cared for and finally sent away to the reservation. having found the whereabouts of little crow and disposed of him, we will return to the command. chapter xxxvii. camp atchison--george a. brackett's adventure--lieutenant freeman's death. camp atchison was the most important of all the camps on the whole route. it was here the general was visited by some three hundred chippewa half-breeds, led by a catholic priest named father andre, who told him that the indians, hearing that general sully, who was marching up the west side of the missouri with a large body of troops, was delayed on account of low water, were deflecting their course in the hope of being reinforced by the sioux inhabiting the country west of the missouri. the general, upon becoming satisfied of this, decided to push on as rapidly as possible after them, and to facilitate the movement he formed a permanent post at camp atchison, which is located about fifty miles southeast from devil's lake, where he left all the sick and broken-down men, and a large portion of his ponderous train, with a sufficient guard to protect them if attacked. with these arrangements completed, the column, with twenty-five days' rations for , infantry, cavalry, pioneers and artillery, started by forced marches to overtake the indians before they reached the missouri river. on the morning of july th the general, with his selected men and reduced train, left camp atchison to pursue the indians and engage them in battle. attached to the expedition in the capacity of contractor was mr. george a. brackett, who met with an experience, the memory of which will remain with him during his life. it is most interesting and exciting, and his own version of it, as narrated at the "camp fire" when he found his old st. anthony friends and captain chase's company, known as the "pioneers," will be read with interest. mr. brackett says: on the fourth day out, in company with lieutenant ambrose freeman, of the mounted rangers, we left the main column for the purpose of adventure and game. i had my train started and in good hands, and got permission for the lieutenant to accompany me. five miles away, having met nothing worthy of note, we surveyed the country from the summit of a range of hills, when we saw several scouts not very far away. we struck a parallel course, believing we were moving in the same direction as the main column. while watering our horses in the lake, we espied two other scouts on the opposite side doing the same thing. we then moved farther on, over the range of bluffs, covering about three-quarters of a mile. we followed along parallel, or perhaps a little to the left of the main body, a distance of three miles. lieutenant freeman saw three antelopes, an old one and two young ones, in the distance. we fired and wounded the old one, who made off around the bluff. i held the lieutenant's horse and he chased her on foot, which took us off our course some distance round the bluffs. we traversed a section of country bordering a large lake, near which we succeeded in killing the antelope. as we were coming down to the lake and while the lieutenant was creeping up toward the antelope, i again saw scouts on the opposite side of the lake, and the train was in sight on the hillside several miles distant. instead of taking our course back, we had a curiosity to go around the lake to where we saw the scouts. on our way around we saw cherry bushes newly cut and piled up, and i set about to tear them down. lieutenant freeman persisted in saying that they were indian signs and that indians were in the vicinity. in preparation for them we cocked our rifles and made around the bushes, so as not to put ourselves in a too exposed position. we took our course, as we supposed, towards the train, or where the train had recently passed. between one and two o'clock we discovered three objects a long distance off, but between us and the train's course, and making for the train. this action, as soon as we came near enough to judge, convinced us that they were indians, yet we kept on toward them, and they were making preparations to meet us, one leading and the other two riding their horses. we got all ready to give them a trial, they creeping around on one side of the bluff and we creeping around to meet them. i saw one with a straw hat on rise up and recognized him as one of our scouts. he beckoned us to come towards him. from all the description i had of him i supposed him to be chaska, and the other two were full blood sioux. both had government horses, and armed, one with a springfield and the other a carbine. i asked him where general sibley was. they pointed to a hill, i should judge, three miles away from where we stood, in the direction where the train passed. i saw a large number of men on a bluff, judged to be about two hundred in number, whom i supposed to be general sibley's men looking for us. we all started directly for them, and as we did so, saw what we supposed to be a guard of cavalry starting towards us. after we had started the scouts turned to a little lake to water their horses, but the lieutenant and myself having previously watered ours, did not go with them. we still saw the cavalry, as we supposed, about fifteen in number, coming towards us. i remarked to lieutenant freeman that they must have turned back, as they had disappeared and were out of sight. we were soon surprised, however, by seeing fifteen indians charging upon us as with a flag of truce; but they were not coming evidently in a friendly spirit, as they fired a volley upon us. i yelled to the scouts that they were indians, and remarked to lieutenant freeman that we had better at once join the scouts, which we endeavored to do. when we got within twenty or twenty-five rods of the scouts we were riding about three rods apart. one indian rode up to lieutenant freeman and shot an arrow through his back, on the left side, and at the same time another indian dismounted and discharged his gun at me, but i laid low on my horse's neck, as close as i possibly could, and he shot over me, and chaska stepped up to the top of a knoll and shot this same indian who had fired at me. ------------------------------------------ [illustration: george a. brackett telling the thrilling story of his escape to the members of capt. chase's company of "pioneers."] ------------------------------------------ the minnesota massacre of . price, to any address, { cents in paper. { $ . and $ . in cloth. _a. p. connolly, chicago._ ------------------------------------------ as lieutenant freeman dropped from his horse i asked him if he was hurt. he replied, "i am gone." he wished me to cut a piece of string which was around his neck, and supported a part of the antelope which he was carrying. as i cut the string he changed his position more on his side and more up hill. he asked faintly for water, which i gave him from my canteen, and by this time the scouts had mounted their horses and left us. the indians were then all around us, and one at the side of the lake; but as the scouts ran toward them they fell back. lieutenant freeman, by this time being dead, i took his rifle and revolver and followed the scouts as fast as i could. the indians mentioned as near the lake, seeing the lieutenant's horse, which followed me, left us and started for the horse, thus enabling me to overtake the scouts. the indians succeeded in catching the horse, and the whole crowd again started after us. we rode for about four miles, when we were overtaken and surrounded by them by the side of a little marsh. we all jumped from our horses. the scouts made motions and ran up to meet them, but chaska motioned for me to jump into the tall rushes on the marsh. i saw nothing more of the scouts, and the indians all rushed down to where the horses were. i cocked my rifle, and lay in the rushes within ten feet of where they were, and heard them quarrel about the possession of the horses. they presently settled their dispute and started off, for fear, as i supposed, of being overtaken by some of our forces. they took their course around the marsh in which i lay for an hour; this was about three p. m. a shower came up, and immediately after it cleared i started on my course, with the sun to my back, and traveled for two hours. i followed this direction for two days, stopping in marshes during the night. on the evening of the second day i struck a river of clear water, about a quarter of a mile wide, running in a southerly direction. next morning i started due south, and traveled until almost night, when i took a westerly course, concluding that the trail was not in that direction; traveled a little to north of west, and struck gen. sibley's trail the afternoon of the third day, about twelve miles from where we camped the night before. i left the main column, and made the deserted camp that night. i started next morning on the back track for camp atchison, and made the painful journey in two days, arriving there the second night, between eight and nine o'clock, making the distance of the four camps in two days, bare-headed, barefooted and coatless. i was obliged to leave my rifle on the last day of my travel, but i could not carry it any farther, and made up my mind that this would probably be my last day. it was probably about nine o'clock, and i was about to give up when i came to a few tents and found them to be those of the pioneers (captain chase's company of the ninth minnesota infantry), and fell to the ground faint and unable to rise again. but, thank god! around that fire were sitting some of my old st. anthony friends, who kindly picked me up and carried me to my tent. i lost my coat, hat and knife in the fight the first day, so i took lieutenant freeman's knife, and with it made moccasins of my boot legs, as my boots so chafed my feet in walking that i could not possibly wear them. these improvised moccasins were constantly getting out of repair, and my knife was much needed to keep them in order for use, as well as to make them in the first place. but just before reaching the trail of the expedition on the fifth day i lost the knife, and the loss, i felt at the time, would have decided my fate if i had much farther to go. but a kind providence was in my favor, for almost the first object that greeted my eyes upon reaching the trail was a knife, old and worn to be sure, but priceless to me. this incident some may deem a mere accident, but let such a one be placed in my situation at that time and he would feel with me that it was given in answer to a prayer made to the great giver of good. on the third day, about ten miles from the river spoken of, i left lieutenant freeman's rifle on the prairie because i became too weak to carry it longer; besides, it had already been so damaged by rain that i could not use it. i wrote upon it that lieutenant freeman had been killed, and named the course i was then pursuing. the pistol i retained and brought with me to camp atchison. while wandering i lived on cherries, roots, birds' eggs, young birds and frogs, caught by my hands, all my ammunition but one cartridge having been spoiled by the rain of the first day. that cartridge had a gutta percha case and was preserved. it was my only hope for fire when i should need it, or when i dared venture to make one. i had also some water-proof percussion caps in my portmanteau, which were also put to good use. i took one-half the powder in the cartridge, with a percussion cap, and with the use of my pistol and some dried grass, started a fire at which i cooked a young bird. how did i catch the bird? well, providence again favored me, and as i was lying low and making no noise, the bird wandered so near that by firing a stick i had with me in such a manner as to make it whirl horizontally, it struck the bird on the side of the head and broke its neck. this was on the second night. on the fourth i used the remainder of the cartridge in the same way and for a like purpose. the rest of the time i ate my food uncooked. except some hard bread (found at the fourth camp mentioned above), which had been fried and then thrown in the ashes. i have forgotten one sweet morsel (and all were sweet and very palatable to me), viz., some sinews spared by wolves from a buffalo carcass. as near as i am able to judge i traveled in the seven days at least two hundred miles. i had ample means for a like journey in civilized localities, but for the first time in my life found gold and silver coin not legal tender. my boot-leg moccasins saved me, for a walk of ten miles upon such a prairie, barefooted, would stop all farther progress of any person accustomed to wearing covering upon the feet. the exposure at night, caused more particularly by lying in low and wet places, in order to hide myself, was more prostrating to me than scarcity of food. the loneliness of the prairies would have been terrible in itself, but for the drove of wolves that after the first day hovered, in the day time, at a respectful distance, and at night howled closely around me, seemingly sure that my failing strength would soon render me an easy prey. but a merciful providence has spared my life by what seems now, even to myself, almost a miracle. the body of lieutenant freeman was afterwards found and buried by members of general sibley's main force. an arrow had pierced his breast, and the tomahawk and scalping knife had left bloody traces about his head. he was buried on the desolate plain, five hundred miles away from his beloved, bereaved wife and children. after the war closed his body was exhumed, carried to his late home, and re-interred by loving hands, with all the honors due a brave soldier. the peculiar circumstances of his death, my last moments with him, my subsequent days of weary, dangerous wandering, my suffering, anxiety and happy deliverance have made an impression upon my memory so indelible that time has not, nor cannot efface them. my friend brackett and myself came to st. anthony, minn., on the same day, may st, , and we "put up" at the same hotel, and it is most interesting to hear him relate this wonderful adventure and marvelous escape. he yet lives to tell the story, and poor freeman! it seemed sad to leave him in his lonely grave on the prairie wild, but such is the fate of war. chapter xxxviii. battle of big mound. a few days after leaving camp atchison scouts began to report to general sibley that indians in large numbers were between us and the hills beyond. everything indicated this, and the evidences were that we were soon to have a battle. we came in sight of the indians every day, but nothing decisive until july th, when we overtook them. scouts reported a large body of indians, with red plume and standing buffalo among them, encamped by the very lake near which the general intended camping. standing buffalo was not there as a hostile, and it was a surprise all around. the general, satisfying himself that a determined resistance would be offered us, corralled his train and made such disposition of the troops as he deemed necessary. it was here where dr. weiser, of the first minnesota rangers, was killed while parleying with a delegation from the hostile camp, and it was treachery, pure and simple. the battle was opened by whipple's battery, and while the cannon boomed and sent leaden hail and death among the fleeing indians, the artillery of heaven opened amid a furious thunder storm, and a private of colonel mcphail's command was killed. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. battle of big mound, dakota. fought between general sibley's forces and the sioux, on july th, . the indians were defeated.] the indians in this affair lost eighty-seven killed and wounded and a vast amount of property. a portion of our command made forty-six miles that day. my own regiment was ordered in pursuit, and we followed them for ten miles, after having already marched eighteen. an order had been sent by an aide for the pursuing troops to bivouac where they were, but being misunderstood, instead of camping, as it was intended, we returned, having been on the march all night. as we came into camp we found that an early reveille had been sounded, and the troops were about ready to march. the part of the command that had joined in the pursuit and returned during the night was so completely exhausted that the whole force was compelled to rest for a day. this battle was a decided victory, counting heavily in the scale of advantage, as it put the savages on the run to a place of safety and materially disabled them from prosecuting further hostilities. after the battle of the big mound, as narrated, the command was compelled to take one day's rest on account of the over-taxed condition of the troops. the next day we marched over the same ground, and it was a comical yet interesting sight to witness the wholesale abandonment of buffalo robes, camp equipage and "jerked" meat; robes by the thousands and meat by the tons had been thrown away by the indians in their hurry to get out of harm's way. we found dogs that had been harnessed up and loaded down with cooking utensils, dead;--they had died from sheer exhaustion. the prairies as far as the eye could penetrate on either side presented this condition of abandonment by the indians, of their property and winter's supply of food. as far as the eye could penetrate on either hand were evidences of their hasty flight, as if swept with the besom of god's wrath. the men would "right about" and fight the soldiers, and then turn, and running towards their fleeing families, urge them to still greater exertion to get away from the avenging army. in the sand on the bank of the lake, i found a tiny papoose moccasin, and could see the imprint and count each separate toe of the little foot in the sand, as it probably was dragged along by the anxious mother, who was too heavily laden to carry her little baby. i thought,--poor, helpless child, not in the least responsible for its unhappy condition, and yet made to suffer. so with all classes of god's humanity;--the innocent too often made to suffer, not only with the guilty, but for the guilty, and in our decisions we should be careful lest we injure innocent persons. the fresh made graves we found on this trail told their sorrowful story,--the little indian spirit had taken its flight,--the body was buried and the heart-broken mother hurried on to keep up with her people, and get away from the army. [illustration: ready to go into action.] chapter xxxix. battle of dead buffalo lake. after the decisive battle of the big mound the indians made up their minds evidently that the army and destruction was in their rear, and their rubicon must be reached and crossed or annihilation was their portion, hence activity was apparent among them. the great impediment to their active work in the field and hasty flight was their families, and it required good generalship to successfully manage this retreating host. the next decisive engagement with them was fought on july th; known as the battle of "dead buffalo lake," so designated from the fact that the carcass of a big buffalo was found on its shores. this day strict orders had been given that there should be no shooting within the lines. this was made necessary from the fact of a soldier having been wounded the day before from the careless use of a rifle in the hands of a comrade. we were going along at an easy jog, when all at once a beautiful deer went bounding along. he seemed terribly frightened, and evidently had been surprised by the skirmishers ahead. all orders were forgotten, and a general stampede was made for this beautiful deer. shots were fired after him, but he made his escape, and it did seem too bad, for we were hungry for deer meat. the general thought we had met the indians again, and aides were sent to the front, with orders for the proper disposition of the troops. as the indians were known to be in large numbers not far ahead, the general was pardoned for his surmises. we passed their abandoned camp early in the morning, but about noon the scouts reported a large body of indians coming down upon us from various directions. the command was placed in line of battle, and soon the skirmishers, in command of colonel william crooks, opened fire, supported by lieutenant whipple's six-pounder. the savages came swooping down on us, and it seemed as though they sprang up out of the earth, so numerous were they. there were those among them who knew something of the tactics of war, and they attempted a vigorous flank movement on the left of the column, which was promptly checked by captain taylor and his mounted rangers. another determined attack was made which was handsomely repulsed by two companies of the sixth minnesota, under colonel averill. a running fire was kept up until about three o'clock, when a bold dash was made to stampede the animals which were herded on the bank of a lake. this attempt was promptly met and defeated by wilson's and davy's cavalry and six companies of the sixth minnesota, under major mclaren. the indians, foiled at all points, and having suffered serious losses in killed and wounded, retired from the field, and galloped away after their families, who, a few miles ahead, were hurrying on towards the missouri river. our animals were so jaded they could not stand a forced march. the reason was very apparent. we had our regular rations, while the horses and mules were on short rations on account of the hot weather burning up the grass, and, besides, the alkali water was as bad for beast as for man. we were obliged to dig wells every night for water before we could get our supper, for we could not use the water from the alkali lakes. as many as sixty wells were dug in a night. think of it,--each company obliged to dig a well in order to get water for supper, but this was one of the daily duties of the soldier. it is astonishing how the "boys in blue" could adapt themselves to every condition and circumstance. i am on a tender spot now,--"the boys in blue." 'tis true times are changed; a few of us are alive yet, and perhaps we are just a little bit "stuck on ourselves"; but, "the old soldier," as we are now dubbed, cannot forget "the boys in blue." in a few years more a new generation will have control of our government, but the wonderful years from to will not be forgotten. if we do not give our government, body and soul, into the hands of foreigners who cannot speak our language it is possible that the memory of the "boys in blue" will remain with us for a time yet. they were a mighty host then, and the tramp, tramp, tramp of their feet as they marched to defeat and victory will go down the centuries;--but, i must come back to my narrative. chapter xl. battle of stony lake--capture of a teton--death of lieutenant beaver. on the morning of july th, just as the command was breaking camp at stony lake, we were attacked by indians, in full force. general sibley had the expeditionary forces so well in hand that the enemy could not possibly do us any harm. we halted but a moment, as some of the scouts came riding furiously towards us, followed by indians intent on their capture. the boys cheered as they came within our lines. the battery was ordered to the front, and soon threw a shell among the indians, who then galloped around on the flank, while another squad came immediately upon our rear; but, the whole column, in a solid square, moved on. the engagement took place on the prairie, and it was a beautiful sight to see the regularity with which the column moved. first, two companies of cavalry skirmishers, and at a proper interval two companies of infantry; the same order was preserved in the rear, and flankers on the right and left, so as to form a hollow square. in the center were the reserve troops, stores of all sorts, and the artillery. the teams were so fixed as to make it impossible to get up a stampede. the indians resort to their peculiar tactics to stampede the teams,--they tried it to its fullest extent on this occasion, but without avail. they did not impede our progress in the least, and as the column moved right along, they soon gave up the attempt, and we pressed them so closely they allowed the killed and wounded to fall into our hands. the casualties were light, because the shells that were thrown among them did but little damage. the cavalry in this case was effective, and crowded the indians, as they charged them with drawn sabre. this was the last stand the indians made in a body, and they hastened on towards the missouri river, which they finally crossed at a point near where bismarck, north dakota, now stands. they made a determined resistance, and had been repulsed in three successive engagements, and their situation was critical in the extreme,--the victorious army in the rear and the missouri in front. after the indians had given up the fight and had ridden ahead to urge their families on, and we had buried the dead and cared for the wounded, we pushed on after them. a young teton chief, who was out on a tour of observation, was captured by some of the cavalry, and the circumstances and manner in which it was done are interesting. thousands of us saw the strange object, but the men who captured him were the more interested observers, and the narrator says: "as the scouts approached it, a dark, motionless object was seen lying upon the ground. coming nearer, some one cried out: 'it's an old buffalo robe'; but, as one stooped to pick it up, it sprang from the earth and bounded off like a deer, arms extended, and flying swiftly, in a zig-zag manner. it was a broad mark for the carbines, but where in it was the motive power? it was impossible to tell. some thirty shots were fired, all hitting the robe, but still he kept on with the same zig-zag motion, so that it was impossible to hit him. [illustration: designed by a. p. connolly. battle of stony lake, dakota, july th, . indians defeated and slaughtered in great numbers by general sibley's troops.] "at last one of the guides reined up near him and, placing a revolver to his head, fired, but he dodged and escaped the ball. "he now stopped, dropped the robe, and threw up both hands, in token of surrender." the robe he wore was literally riddled with bullets, but not a scratch upon the body of the indian. his gallantry and his lordly bearing won the admiration of his captors, and placing him behind one of the scouts they bore him away in triumph, and presented him to general sibley, to whom he extended his hand in friendly salute, but which was declined until he had made his statement, and assured the general that his hands were not stained with innocent blood. being thus convinced, general sibley shook him by the hand, and they became friends. he belonged to the teton band, which is one of the largest divisions of the dakota nation. they lived west of the missouri, and his information was that they were interested observers, but had no sympathy with, nor taking no part in, the war. he and his father, who was one of the head chiefs, were out on a visit to the yanktonians, and, learning that they were soon to have a fight with the soldiers, his curiosity prompted him to go as an observer. his curiosity was satisfied, and he retired with the balance, but had stopped in a clump of grass to allow his pony to graze. while here he had fallen asleep, and the pony was the object that first attracted the attention of the scouts, which resulted in the indian's capture, as above narrated. he was a prisoner with us for five days, during which time he was treated with some consideration as the heir apparent to the chieftainship of his tribe. he was about twenty years old; a fine looking fellow, tall and athletic. he became strongly attached to the general and the staff. general sibley afterwards learned of this indian's death. he had given the boy, on his departure, a letter to his father, commending him for refusing to take up the tomahawk against the whites, and in appreciation of this, that he had kept the son for a few days in his camp and then gave him his liberty, so that he might return to his own people. it was good policy, because the letter, being found in his possession, indicated to the indians that general sibley was not responsible for his death. a few days after his departure, a party of miners, who had been up in idaho, were coming down the missouri river, and at the very place where our men had reached the river and filled their canteens the indians were lying in wait for the descending miners. the young teton desired peace, and rushed toward them waving general sibley's letter over his head. they, not understanding his signal, shot him to death, when they were at once surrounded by the exasperated indians, and a battle, short and decisive, was fought, and every man of the miners was killed, but not before twice their number of indians had shared the same fate. this was another sad chapter of this unholy war. the indians now approached the river, but, owing to the thick underbrush, were obliged to abandon all their carts,--their ponies they took with them, but their winter's supply of meat they abandoned. our skirmish line was formed at three paces, but even then it was impossible to observe a line, so thick were the weeds and underbrush. the enemy was sighted, and an advance ordered, when the line moved forward, and after an hour of hard work, we, like de soto, when he discovered the mississippi, gazed in admiration on its prototype,--the missouri. after having for weeks drank the brackish water of the prairie lakes, we drank from this sweet though turbid stream, and were refreshed, as were the children of israel, who partook of the cool water from the stricken rock. while drinking and wading in the stream, we were fired upon from the opposite shore, although a flag of truce had been raised. the indians' bullets fell short of their mark, but the retreat was sounded, and we marched back for the open prairie, and returned to our camp, which was situated on a beautiful plateau a few miles below. the brush was so thick that the indians were obliged to abandon all of their carts and camp equipage, with thousands of buffalo robes, and tons of dried meat. the rout of the indians and destruction of property was complete. our casualties were very light; but, among the killed was lieutenant beaver, an english lord, who came to this country to engage in a buffalo hunt; but, upon his arrival, learning of the indian outbreak, tendered his services to the government, and was commissioned a lieutenant on general sibley's staff, as aide-de-camp. he had been sent by general sibley with an order to colonel crooks, who was in command of the advance, and, on his return, he and his beautiful black horse were killed. colonel crooks said to lieutenant beaver that the regiment would return as soon as the skirmishers could be rallied, and invited him to remain and ride with him back to camp, but the aide, true soldier that he was, felt it his duty to report to general sibley at once, and paid the penalty. the indians, some at least, not being able to cross the river, were in hiding, and others had re-crossed, and were skulking in the thick brush, waiting for a chance to shoot with arrows. lieutenant beaver had mistaken the path he came in on, and took one that led him on to some of these skulking indians, and he thus met his death. colonel crooks returned, and though lieutenant beaver messed with him, his tent was at general sibley's headquarters, and his absence from mess was not noticed until, upon inquiry at the general's tent, it was found he had not reported. the sudden disappearance of one who was such a general favorite cast a gloom over the camp. as soon as it became dark fire rockets were sent up, in hopes that if he was wandering away, through taking a wrong road, he might be guided back to camp. the early morning found us astir, for a detail of my regiment had been made to reconnoiter and to skirmish clear down to the bank of the river, in order to gain tidings of lieutenant beaver, and, also, of private miller, of the sixth regiment, who also was missing. the reconnoissance proved successful, and both bodies were found, as well as the body of the lieutenant's horse. lieutenant beaver had evidently made a desperate fight for his life, because his two revolvers were empty, and the indications were that he had made more than one of the enemy bite the dust. [illustration: sighting the enemy on the missouri.] the bodies were brought to camp and prepared for burial in the trenches on opposite sides of the camp, and the work was so done as to obliterate all signs and prevent the indians from locating the spots and desecrating the graves. the service was touchingly solemn, and many tears were shed, as we thought of these lonely graves so far away from the homes of the living relatives. lieutenant beaver had friends in england who were abundantly able to have his remains disinterred and removed to a more suitable place of burial. money was sent out from england for this purpose, and trusted agents sent up to the missouri banks for the purpose of bringing back the remains. there is a grave at graceland, in st. paul, on the top of which rests a slab of granite, and engraven on this are the words: "sacred to the memory of lieutenant f. j. h. beaver, who died july , . peace to his ashes." on the banks of the missouri is a lonely grave. the winter's storms and the summer's heat have come and gone. the night vigils of the strange birds have been kept, the requiem of gentle breezes has been sung over this lonely grave. comrade nicholas miller, private of company k, sixth minnesota infantry volunteers, sleeps in his lonely bed, and "after life's fitful fever he sleeps well." chapter xli. homeward bound. we remained but two days at this missouri camp, when the reveille sounded early in the morning of august st, and the troops were astir. we were a long way from home, and on short rations; and, in addition to this, we felt some anxiety about the boys we left at camp atchison, having heard nothing from them. the sun was very hot the day we left; one of the kind the boys called "muggy,"--disagreeable in the extreme. at dress parade the night before, we received the compliments of the general in orders read, announcing that the purpose of the expedition had been accomplished. this was, of course, good news to us, and we speculated as to how early a date would find us taking leave of this far-away camp. the scouts reported to the general that indians had been crossing the river below us all day long, and the indications were that they intended to make an attack about midnight, in order to steal our teams. with this information before him, general sibley ordered one-half the command out on guard, and the balance to lay on their arms. in an hour or so another order came, for the balance of the command to reinforce the guard, because there surely would be an attack, and it did come about twelve o'clock; but the attempt to capture the teams miscarried; for, after a few shots, the indians retired. having lost nearly all of their wagons and cured meat, they were in a desperate condition, and a commissary train would have been a rich prize. on the morning we left it was astonishing how quickly we got ready, and how lonesome the canvas city looked after the bugle sounded "strike tents." we marched out this fine morning with our banners flying, and the band playing "the girl i left behind me." there were no regrets, for the "beautiful indian maiden" had not made a favorable impression on us, and we had our own little families at home. the sixth minnesota was in the rear, and we were hardly beyond the limits of the camp before the indians had taken possession and commenced firing on our rear guard. the colonel gave the necessary commands to bring us to a "right about," with orders to "commence firing." the orders came in quick succession, and were such a surprise to the indians that they took to their heels with great alacrity. they hovered about us during all the day, but did not in the least retard us in our homeward march. we were instructed to supply ourselves with water before starting, because we must march eighteen miles, to apple river bend, before we could get a fresh supply. the day was excessively warm, and the men became thirsty; but, behold! we look away, and a beautiful lake appears before us. "water! water!" cry the thirsty men, and our canteens were soon empty, in anticipation of refilling them from the bosom of this beautiful lake before us. we march and thirst again, and the beautiful lake seems just as far away. "it's two miles to that lake," says one thirsty soul. we march the two miles, and yet are two miles away, and the thirst and heat are intolerable. "surely that's water," said another, "but we don't seem to get any nearer to it." we marched and marched; but we must be in a valley, for the lake is out of sight. "when we get over the ridge we'll see the beautiful lake," comes from some one in the ranks. we got over the ridge, but the beautiful lake, in all its refreshing loveliness, had vanished. had it evaporated, or had it sunk into the ground? neither. we had been deceived,--it was a mirage! the air was hot, the earth parched, the throats dry, the canteens empty, and we were yet eight miles from water. eight long, weary miles to go before we reach the bend in apple river, but there was no help for it, and we bear to it with our soldier load. "five miles farther," says the scout, and our hearts almost stop beating, we are so parched; three miles, and on we march; only one mile more, and we would run if we could. we reach the bank, and the colonel commands: "battalion, halt!" but the refreshing water is too near, and the famishing men make a run for it, and do not stop until they are in waist deep, and then they drink to their fill and replenish their canteens. on our return march we passed nearly over the same ground as we did going out. we passed the battlefield of the big mound, and went into camp by the lake where lieutenant freeman was killed; this was on the th of august. the next day our scouts reported "indians ahead,"--a false alarm,--the indians espied were half-breeds bringing us mail from camp atchison, and also the news that george a. brackett, who was with lieutenant freeman when he was killed, had made his way, after weary days and nights of wandering, and in a half-starved condition, to camp atchison, where he fell among friends. when we arrived at camp atchison it took but a day to arrange for our final departure. lieutenant freeman's body had been recovered and buried, and the place so marked that it was easily found afterwards, when the body was removed and taken to his home for final interment. we drew five days' rations of hard tack and bacon, and the side dishes that go with it; just what they were i cannot now remember. i guess the dear old army bean was one and desiccated vegetable another; anyway, we were not troubled with the gout from too much eating of rich food. the surgeons made proper provision for the transportation of the sick by placing them in ambulances, and at an early hour the headquarters' bugler sounded "strike tents," and the canvas city was razed to the ground;--camp atchison was a back number. the command took up the line of march for fort snelling, where we expected to receive orders to proceed at once to join the union army in the south. we were a jolly crowd, and the march seemed but a pleasant pastime; we had driven the enemy out of the country, and, save the first two or three days of our return march, he was giving us no trouble. we made good time, and the nearer we got home the shorter the miles became. when we got down to civilization we were accorded an ovation; especially was this the case at minneapolis, where the whole city turned out to bid us welcome. we arrived at fort snelling on the morning of september th, after having made a march of more than twelve hundred miles;--and thus ended the campaign of . chapter xlii. the campaign of . my active work in the sioux indian war ended in the autumn of , and the regiment went south, but history has made me familiar with the campaign of , and i thus devote space to it, so as to follow the troops and indians to the culmination and final successful closing of the greatest indian war of modern times. the return of general sibley from the missouri campaign of did not end the sioux war, because, while the indians had been defeated in five pitched battles in and ' , yet they were known to be in large numbers, ready to take the field again in , as soon as the weather would permit. such being the case, it became necessary to organize against them. to this end another expedition was fitted out from the minnesota side, which was to co-operate with general sully from the missouri side. general sully, on account of the low stage of water in the missouri in , was unable to co-operate with general sibley, as was intended, and on august st, , and when general sibley's order for the homeward march was promulgated, general sully was one hundred and sixty miles farther down the river than it was intended he should be. this was the reason why the indians were not more severely whipped than they were. it would have been suicidal for general sibley to have crossed the missouri river at this time, with rations and ammunition as scarce as they were. the indians took advantage of the situation and evinced a determination to take the field again. a cavalry regiment had been authorized by the war department for one year and for frontier service. this regiment was filled to the maximum, and placed in command of colonel r. n. mclaren. a battalion had been raised previous to this, known as hatch's battalion, and was on duty near pembina, and by this wise provision confidence was restored in this part of the country. the indians still had undisputed possession of the country west of the missouri, and, although they may have been peaceable, it was necessary to settle the question permanently, and place them on their reservations. the plan of the campaign of was very similar to that of the year previous, excepting in the matter of command, the two columns,--the one from the minnesota side and the other from the missouri side,--were to combine and become two brigades, under the command of general sully. the first brigade was composed of iowa and kansas infantry, and they embarked at sioux city, iowa, and proceeded up the missouri. the second brigade embraced the eighth minnesota infantry, mounted on ponies, colonel m. t. thomas in command; the second minnesota cavalry, colonel mclaren; and the third minnesota battery, captain john jones. this brigade was in command of colonel thomas, and left fort snelling on june st. general sibley and staff accompanied this brigade of , men as far as fort ridgely, where he gave them their final orders. colonel thomas, who considered general sibley a man of ability, thought him too cautious, and, in response to his final orders, said: "general, i am going to hunt for indians; if they will hunt for and find me it will save a heap of trouble." it was a beautiful morning on june th, and as the first rays of the morning sun flashed the full light of day, "boots and saddles" sounded in the clear tones of the bugles, and the column, headed by a magnificent band, mounted on milk white horses, marched out to the tune of "the girl i left behind me." the general reviewed the column as it passed, and after complimenting the appearance of the soldiers and bidding good-bye to colonel thomas and his staff, who were starting on a five months' campaign beyond the bounds of civilization, rode back to the fort. the column was now under way, and day after day the march went on, in solid square, so organized that all the indians in north america could not disturb it. at night the square closed up, so as to ensure greater safety and reduce guard duty. the column moved up the valley of the minnesota river to its source, and then took a westerly course, making daily from sixteen to twenty miles, resting on sunday. the scouts, failing to find even signs of indians, the march became monotonous until the valley of the missouri was reached. here was found general sully's trail of the year previous, and soon some of his scouts came into camp and reported general sully only one day's march away, where he was waiting for the fleet of boats on which were supplies for the troops. the monotony of the daily march was enlivened by the report that indians were hovering around,--they came to reconnoiter, but not to fight yet. this of itself was encouraging, because the boys began to think they would not even see an indian; but there was fun ahead, as we shall see in the next chapter. chapter xliii. the battle of the bad lands. general sully, an unpretentious man, with clear perception, appeared to know where the indians were, and what they would do. his service in the regular army peculiarly fitted him for this service, and this, with his genial temperament, made him an agreeable commander. the boats were unloaded, the command supplied with sixty days' rations and divested of all surplus clothing and equipments, made ready for a vigorous march after indians. the troops were reviewed by the commanding officer, general sully, who, by the way, was at one time colonel of the first minnesota, and afterwards promoted to major-general of volunteers and brevet brigadier-general of the regular army. the review of the troops constituted the celebrating the fourth of july, . when the column finally moved, which was on july , it marched out into an unknown and unexplored country, from the white man's standpoint. [illustration: resting before an attack.] what a transformation,--then unknown and unexplored,--no highways, no railroads, no civilization,--to-day the onward march of our race has left its imprint by railroads, beautiful farms, busy cities, busy factories, christian civilization, education and the "little red school house." but i am anticipating; turn back the leaves and we are again on the knife river, and we snuff a battle, for the indians are ahead in great numbers. it was on july th, among the foothills of the mountains, that a large camp of indians was found. in this camp were no less than one hundred and ten bands of hostile sioux, and they meant business, for they had congregated here for the express purpose of cleaning out the white soldiers, and they felt confident they could do it. the indians, on their horses, were stripped for the fray, and began leisurely to ride in line of battle toward the white enemy. when within rifle shot, the soldiers opened fire, and instantly the scene was changed. the bands concentrated, and, uttering their war cries, they dashed at full speed on our lines, firing, and, like the wind, whirled to the rear, loading as they went, when they would again face the enemy, and, coming within gunshot, fire again. they were so confident of success that they did not attempt to save their own camp, which was the objective point of the soldiers; and they did not realize their dangerous position until they found that their terrific onslaught on our lines did not in the least impede the progress of the troops. soon the artillery was brought up, and the shells were sent thick and fast among them. by this time they began to realize that retreat were the tactics now. there were , tepees filled with women and children, with the usual supply of dogs,--not less than two dogs to a tepee, and such a stampede. it was a grand sight in one sense and sad in another. to see this great, moving mass of , or , souls, with their camp paraphernalia, including dogs and ponies, rushing over the prairie; the fleeing multitude spread out as far as the eye could reach on either side, rushing on in mad haste, as though fleeing from the city of destruction. it was the sight of a lifetime, but sad to contemplate that the sins of some were being showered upon the heads of the innocent women and children. the loss to the indians in killed was estimated at to ; the wounded they carried off the field. the dead were buried in the night in large trenches, the earth leveled off, and the troops marched away. the indians were not satisfied with the result of this engagement; they naturally would not be. they claimed that the best of their young men were off hunting for our troops in another direction, and they should at once call them in and give battle again. the last six days had been very exciting, and was a nervous strain on the soldiers. one hundred and seventy-five miles had been made, a battle of eight hours had been fought, and the camp of indians destroyed. the march to the west was resumed over the prairie, with the knife mountains to the north and the black hills to the south, looming up in the distance like great sentinels, standing to contest the approach of civilization and defying the elements of ages. in the immediate front, off towards the horizon, was what seemed to be a level plain,--it was level, but for a little distance, and then broke to your view what might have inspired a dante to write a more recent edition of inferno; for, as far as the eye could reach, north and south and for forty miles to the west, the body of the earth had been rent and torn asunder, as though giant demons, in their infuriated defeat, had sought to disembowel the earth. general sully said of it: "it is hell with the fires put out." we are now in the bad lands, and it is sunday,--the lord's day, and in such a region,--where devils had fought. white men's eyes had probably never before seen this region, and the indians were afraid of it; they looked upon this region as the abode of evil spirits, and that the great gorges and buttes and yawning chasms were but the product of their wrath. the sunday passed quietly until after noon, when a reconnoitering party returned and said they had been fired upon by indians. about five o'clock on this sunday general sully changed the position of the camp and went four miles farther up the river, in order to be in better position to prevent a surprise or repel an attack. the indians were interested observers, for while this move was being made , of them were quietly sitting on their horses on the surrounding hills, observing. general sully, being sick in his tent at this time, the command devolved upon colonel thomas, of the eighth minnesota, and to him he gave orders to "have everything ready to move at six o'clock in the morning, in perfect fighting order; put one of your most active field officers in charge of a strong advance guard, and you will meet them at the head of the ravine, and have the biggest indian fight that ever will happen on this continent; and let me further say that under no circumstances must any man turn his back on a live indian." on monday morning, bright and early, on august th, , the columns were formed. the general was in an ambulance at the front, and in admiration looking up and down the lines of the soldiers who were so soon to engage the indians in battle, gave vent to his feelings in words more expressive than elegant: "those fellows can whip the devil and all his angels." general sully himself was unable to go farther, but when he grasped colonel thomas, who was in immediate command, by the hand he said: "you must make some history to-day." "forward!" and the column is marching out, and not a sound is there to indicate that its progress will be impeded, as we enter the narrow gorge, only wide enough for a wagon trail. almost an hour passes in steadily climbing up the narrow and secluded way, and when near the head of the gulch, from the beautiful stillness of the morning the pandemonium of war broke loose. the artillery advanced in a gallop, and, in position, soon commenced planting shells among the redskins. this was followed up by the steady advance of the dismounted men, who pressed their lines, and they commenced to fall back. the general, sick though he was, and in the ambulance, could not endure being there when the fight was going on, so he ordered up his horse and, mounting, rode to the front, but nature resisted, and he was obliged to dismount, which he did, and seating himself on a boulder, with his field glass took in the whole situation. colonel thomas, who was in command, hearing that the general was on the field, sought him out and said: "i am ready to advance, sir." the general, pointing his hand toward a range of hills, said: "go ahead, you will find the camp beyond those buttes; hold your men well in hand, push the indians; they will fight for their families; protect your flank, and i will protect the rear." the fight went on; the wounded were sent to the rear, and for twelve miles we drove the indians from point to point, but darkness came on before their camp was reached. in the bivouac at night the scene was a varied one. at the roll-call there were names not answered, for the unerring arrow and indian bullet had done its work. at the next muster it would be necessary to mark after some name: "killed in battle in the bad lands august th, ," or, "died of wounds received from indians in battle in the bad lands august th, ," for there were killed and wounded on this day. the wounded received proper attention at once, and the other soldiers, well tired out with the day's fighting and marching, were soundly sleeping and dreaming of home. there were , warriors engaged in this battle, and as nearly as could be estimated they lost killed and from to wounded. it was a bloody battle, and the field was named by the indians waps-chon-choka. the indians, after this decisive battle, broke up into small bands and went in every direction, so that the soldiers, as an army, could not well follow them. the war had ended so far as the indians were concerned, but there was another fight on hand. bad water and lack of rations are not a happy condition of affairs, and the soldiers had to look this square in the face. and hot! the tongues of some of the men were so swelled from thirst and heat that they could not talk. the animals suffered equally with the men, and in numerous instances it became necessary to put them out of their misery by blowing out their brains. and thus things went on from day to day until august th, when glad news came from one of the scouts, who came riding back and frantically waving something in his hands. it was simply a little chip of wood, and why should this create such unbounded joy among a lot of war-begrimed veterans? it was freshly cut and evidently came from the steamboat men, as it was borne down on the bosom of the cool waters of the longed-for yellowstone. the weary soldiers, thirsting and starving, viewed this little harbinger of plenty with delight, and their strength began to return as they increased their step in the march toward the river. o, that beautiful river:--"the nectar of the gods." how life-inspiring its fluid, as discipline was forgotten and joy and happy shouts took the place of misery in the command. the thirst was slaked, and now for something to eat, for soldiers, poor mortals, get very hungry, and how often they longed for some good home-made bread and sugar and cream for coffee. and pies; well, our mouths used to fairly water for pies. but, on this especial occasion, almost anything would do, for the boys were awfully hungry, and the commissary was like "old mother hubbard's" cupboard--empty. there were timber bottoms a little way down the river full of elk and black-tailed deer, so the indians informed us. a detail was made, and the hunters went out in search of game, and before night they returned with the evidence of their day's hunt with them. they were like the spies sent out in bible times, who came back laden with grapes, and reported that the country which they had explored was rich, and flowed with milk and honey. so, too, our soldier-hunters said the bottom lands were alive with elk and deer; and, by the next night, the luscious ribs and steaks were sizzling in the blaze, and hunger was being appeased as well as the thirst had been. the war being practically over, the several commands returned by various routes to the points from whence they came, and were at once ordered south to take their places in some of the other armies. the campaigns of , ' and ' were successfully carried out, and we will recapitulate our desires, our journeyings, our hopes and our fears and our rejoicings in another chapter, and bid you adieu. [illustration: examining the colors after the campaign.] chapter xliv. conclusion. in writing this narrative my mind has been refreshed and incidents and the names of persons almost forgotten come to me--they press on my memory. i am able to recall many, but to specify them would unduly lengthen this book. there was one important character, however, whom i had quite forgotten at the proper time, and in this concluding chapter must make mention of him. pierre bottineau came originally from the selkirk settlement, and in made a claim near st. anthony falls. i was with him upon the plains of dakota in , and in his way he was a remarkable man. on one occasion the party got lost in a furious storm and we knew that war parties of chippewas were roaming over the prairie and it was not any way too healthy to be in the region we supposed we were wandering in. we halted to hold a council and pierre said: "as soon as the stars come out i can locate." so we waited and waited for the storm to pass over. the night was pitchy dark, but in time the stars came, when pierre laid flat down on the ground, face up, and for perhaps half an hour surveyed the heavens and located our wandering feet. we were soon on the right trail for our camp, which was forty or fifty miles away. pierre was one of general sibley's principal scouts during the several campaigns against the indians in and . he died some years ago, and speaking of his death reminds me of others prominent in these military operations who have gone beyond the river. the two generals, sibley and sully, are gone, and of the field and staff, i can recall colonel john t. averill, of the sixth minnesota, who was, after the war, member of congress. adjutant snow and quartermasters carver and gilbert, colonels stephen miller and wm. r. marshall, both honored by minnesota by electing them to chief executive--they, with lieut. colonel bradley and all of the seventh; colonel robert n. mclaren, of the second cavalry, and major hatch, of the battalion bearing his name, and captain john jones, of the famous battery. these are among some of the chiefs who have been called. among the line of officers and the rank and file, it would be a mighty host, and it saddens my heart when i think of them, so i will desist and conclude by reminding you of the invitation extended and briefly recapitulate our journeyings. * * * * * reader: the invitation extended to you to accompany us on a military expedition into the indian country has been accepted. it was under exciting circumstances, when the whole country was surcharged with alarm, and for good cause. the indians, cruel, relentless, revengeful, and with determination, were murdering innocent men, women and children, and but for the friendly offices of a faithful few, whose hearts were whiter than their skins, the death list and list of horrors would have been far greater; and it is for these few we speak when we say there are good indians other than dead ones; and minnesota could not do a more appropriate thing to-day than erect a monument to the memory of old betz, other day, chaska and others, who risked their lives to save their white friends from the tomahawk of their more vengeful brethren, and who did so much to alleviate the sufferings and to relieve the anxiety of the captive prisoners. you went with us to besieged new ulm and fort ridgely; helped bury the dead at redwood; marched with us and went into camp and endured the thirty-six hours of anxiety and suffering at birch coolie; helped bury the dead and care for the wounded there; returned with us to fort ridgely; took part in the battle at wood lake, where the indians were defeated; shared our joys when we liberated the women at camp release; helped arrest, shackle and guard the indians; witnessed the execution of thirty-eight at mankato; marched across with the "moscow expedition"; rendezvoused with us at camp pope in ; marched and fought indians with us at big mound, dead buffalo lake, stony lake and the missouri river. you mingled your tears with ours over beaver's and miller's graves, as we left them in their loneliness on the bank of the river; participated in and rejoiced with us all the way on our return, took part in the campaign of , and now, before bidding you adieu, one question: are you satisfied? the end. * * * * * transcriber note illustrations moved so as to not split paragraphs. quotation usage in quoted letters was standardized. [illustration: cover art] wolf ear the indian a story of the great uprising of - by edward s. ellis author of "captured by indians," "a hunt on snow shoes," "the mountain star," etc. etc. with four full-page illustrations by alfred pearse seventeenth thousand cassell and company, limited london, new york, toronto and melbourne all rights reserved contents chapter i. "the bullet had passed startlingly near him" chapter ii. "he's up to some mischief, i'll warrant" chapter iii. "there are fifty hostiles" chapter iv. "we are enemies" chapter v. "what will be their next step?" chapter vi. "ay, where were they?" chapter vii. "it came like one of them kansan cyclones" chapter viii. "the bucks were coming up alarmingly fast" chapter ix. "he has made his last scout" chapter x. "oh, there is wolf ear?" chapter xi. "i'm off! good-bye!" chapter xii. what happened to wolf ear list of illustrations "i'm off! good-bye!" . . . _frontispiece_ "the figure of a sioux buck" "hurrah!" "oh, there is wolf ear!" [transcriber's note: the first three illustrations were missing from the source book.] wolf ear the indian chapter i. "the bullet had passed startlingly near him." before relating to my young friends the incidents which follow, i think a few words of explanation will help them. perhaps some of you share the general mistake that the american indians are dying out. this is not the fact. there are to-day more red men in the united states than ever before. in number, they exceed a quarter of a million, and though they do not increase as fast as the whites, still they are increasing. it is true that a great many tribes have disappeared, while others that were once numerous and powerful have dwindled to a few hundreds; but on the other hand, tribes that were hardly known a century ago now include thousands. the many wars between the united states and the indians have been caused, almost without exception, by gross injustice towards the red men. they have been wronged in every way, until in their rage they turned against their oppressors. the sad fact at such times is that the ones who have used them so ill generally escape harm, while the innocent suffer. the indian reasons that it is the white race that has wronged him, so he does them all the injury he can, without caring whether the one whom he slays has had a hand in his own persecution. the indian, like all savages, is very superstitious. he loves to think over the time, hundreds of years ago, when the red men roamed over the whole continent from ocean to ocean. he dreams of those days, and believes they will again return--that the pale faces will be driven into the sea, and the vast land become the hunting ground of the indians. some years ago this strange faith took a wonderfully strong hold upon those people. the belief spread that a messiah was coming in the spring of , who would destroy the pale faces and give all the country back to the red men. they began holding wild dances, at which the dancers took hold of hands and leaped and shouted and circled round and round until they dropped to the ground, senseless and almost dead. these "ghost dances," as they were called, were carried on to please the new messiah. when the dancers recovered, they told strange stories of having visited the other world. all who listened believed them. the craze spread like wildfire, and before the government understood what was going on, the indians were making ready for war. they were well armed, eager to attack the whites. the principal tribe was the dakota or sioux, the most powerful on the american continent. the leading chief or medicine man was sitting bull. he was a bad man who had made trouble for more than twenty years. he could not endure the white men, and, when not actively engaged against them, was thinking out some scheme of evil. as soon as the new messiah craze broke out, he turned it to account. he sent his friends among the tribes and urged them to unite in a general war against the whites. the officers and soldiers were very patient, and did their best to soothe the red men, but matters grew worse and worse. trouble was sure to come if sitting bull were allowed to keep up his mischievous work. so it was decided to arrest him. in the attempt several people were killed, among them sitting bull himself. danger still threatened, and many believed that it would require a great battle to subdue the indians. now, if you will look at your map of the united states, you will notice that the missouri river runs across the middle of the new state of south dakota. on the southern boundary of the state, a large tract of land, reaching one-third of the way westward to wyoming, and with the white river forming in a general way the northern boundary, makes what is known as an indian reservation. there are many of these in the west. they belong to the indians, and the government has an agency at each, to see that no white people intrude. the indians are forbidden to leave these reservations without obtaining permission, and at the agencies they receive the annuities or supplies paid to them by the united states government for the lands elsewhere which they have given up. half of the reservation directly west of the missouri is the rosebud agency, and the other half the pine ridge agency. it was at the latter that the grave trouble threatened. when the discontent was so general, the danger extended hundreds of miles north and west. that section is thinly settled, and the pioneers were in great peril. most of them hurried to the nearest forts for safety, while others waited, hoping the cloud would soon pass by. if your map of south dakota is a complete one, it will show you a small stream to the westward of pine ridge, named raccoon creek, a tributary of cherry creek, itself a branch of the big cheyenne river. at the time of the troubles, the kingsland family, consisting of hugh, a man in middle life, his wife molly, his daughter edith, eight years old, and his son brinton, a little more than double her age, were living on raccoon creek. the family had emigrated thither three years before from kansas, and all would have gone well in their new home, but for the illness of mr. kingsland. something in the climate disagreed with him, though the rest of the family throve. he was first brought low with chills and fever, which after several months' obstinate fight finally left him weak and dispirited. then, when he was fairly recovered, the slipping of an axe in his hands so wounded his foot that he was laid up for fully two months more. it looked as if ill-fortune was to follow him so long at least as he stayed in south dakota, for sickness, accident, and misfortune succeeded each other, until he would have despaired but for those around him. his wife was well fitted to be the helpmate of a pioneer, for she was hopeful, industrious, strong, and brave. she carefully nursed him, making light of their afflictions, and declaring that all would soon come right, and that prosperity would prove the sweeter from having been deferred so long. edith, bright-eyed, pretty, affectionate and loving, was the comfort of those hours which otherwise would have been intolerably dismal, when confined in his small humble home. he read to and taught her, told her delightful fairy stories, listened to her innocent prattle and exchanged the sweetest of confidences. sometimes hugh kingsland wondered after all whether he was not the most fortunate individual in the world in being thus blessed in his family relations. and there was another from whom the meed of praise must not be withheld. that was brinton, now close upon seventeen years of age. the ill-fortune to which we have alluded made him in one sense the virtual head of the family. he was strong, cheerful, and resembled his mother in his hopeful disposition. the difficulties in which his father was continually involved brought out the real manhood of his nature. he looked after the cattle and live stock, galloped across the plains to hermosa, fairburn, rapid city, and other points for supplies or on other business, or, fording the big cheyenne, white, and smaller streams, crossed the reservation to pine ridge. the youth was indispensable, and did his work so well, that the father, in his occasional moments of rallying, remarked that he thought of continuing to play the sick man, since it was proved that he was of no account. "i hope you will soon become well," said the red-cheeked lad one evening, as the group gathered around the fire; "but stay here in the house as long as you wish, for mother and edith and i can get along without your help." "yes, husband; don't fret over that. only become well, and until you do so, be assured that everything is going along as it should." "i have never had a doubt of that; but, ah me," he added with a sigh, "this is tiresome after all, especially when it begins to look as though i shall never be well again." "for my part," said edith very earnestly, "i don't want you to get well, and i am praying that you will not." "why, edith!" exclaimed the mother reproachfully, while her brother did not know whether to laugh or be shocked at the odd expression. as for the father, he laughed more heartily than he had done for weeks. edith looked wonderingly in their faces, and felt that some explanation was due to them. "i mean to say--that is i don't mean anything bad, but if papa gets well enough to ride out to look after the cattle, and is working all day, why, i won't have anyone to tell me stories and read to me and do so many funny things." "your explanation is satisfactory," said her father, smiling. "i shall have to stay in the house for some weeks--that is certain, and perhaps longer." "oh, i am _so_ glad!" but with the first clapping of the chubby hands, edith realised that she was doing wrong again, and she added in a gentler voice-- "if papa feels bad when he is ill then i am sorry for him, and will pray every night and morning that he may get well." it was winter time, and the kingslands in their humble home could not be ignorant of the alarming state of affairs around them. they had been urged to come into the agency while it was safe to do so, for the revolt among the indians was spreading, and there was no saying when escape would be cut off. the family had considered the question with the seriousness due to so important a matter. naturally, they were reluctant to abandon their home now, for it would be virtually throwing away everything they owned in the world; but when it became a question of life and death, there could be no hesitation. on the very night, however, that the decision to remove to the agency was made, sergeant victor parkhurst, who was out on a scout, with a squad of men from pine ridge, called at their home and stated his belief that no trouble would occur. he said it would be better if the family were at pine ridge, and he offered to escort them thither. but, he added, that in mr. kingsland's feeble condition it would be as well for him to stay where he was, since he must run great risk by exposure in the depth of winter. the next caller at the cabin was nicholas jackson, who had been a scout under general crook, and was now serving general miles in the same capacity at pine ridge. he brought news of sitting bull's death, and assured the pioneer that every day spent by him and his family away from the agency increased their peril. "you shouldn't delay your start a single hour," was his remark, as he vaulted upon his pony and skurried away. before deciding the all-important question, it was agreed that brinton should gallop down to the reservation and learn the real situation. it was a long ride to pine ridge, and involved the crossing of the cheyenne, white, and several smaller streams, but the youth was confident he could penetrate far enough to ascertain the truth and get back by sunset. if it were necessary to go all the way to the agency, this was impossible, for the days were at their shortest, but he must penetrate that far to find out what he wished to know. when brinton flung himself into the saddle of jack, his tough and intelligent pony, just as it was beginning to grow light in the east, after his hasty breakfast and "good-bye," he was sure he would be caught in a snow-storm before his return. the dull heavy sky, and the peculiar penetrating chilliness, left no doubt on that point. but with his usual pluck, he chirruped to his pony, lightly jerked his bridle rein, and the gallant animal was off at a swinging pace, which he was able to maintain for hours without fatigue. he was heading south-east, over the faintly marked trail, with which the youth was familiar and which was so well known to the animal himself that he needed no guidance. two hours later, the young horseman reached the border line of custer and washington counties, that is between the county of his own home and the reservation. this was made by the big cheyenne river, which had to be crossed before pine ridge was reached. brinton reined up his horse and sat for some minutes, looking down on the stream, in which huge pieces of ice were floating, though it was not frozen over. "that isn't very inviting, jack," he said, "but the ford is shallow and it's no use waiting." he was in the act of starting his pony down the bank, when on the heavy chilly air sounded a dull explosive crack. a nipping of his coat sleeve showed that the bullet had passed startlingly near him. he turned his head like a flash, and saw, not more than a hundred feet distant, the figure of a sioux buck or young warrior bareback on his horse, which was standing motionless, while his rider made ready to let fly with another shot from his winchester rifle. chapter ii. "he's up to some mischief, i'll warrant." the instant brinton kingsland looked around and saw the indian on his pony, a short distance away, with his rifle at his shoulder and about to fire a second time, he brought his own winchester to a level and aimed at the one who had attempted thus treacherously to shoot him in the back. the indian was no older than himself, sitting firmly on the bare back of his horse, with his blanket wrapped about his shoulders, and several stained eagle feathers protruding from his hair, as black and coarse as that of his pony's tail. his dark eyes glittered as they glanced along the barrel of his rifle, and he aimed straight at the breast of the youth, who instead of flinging himself over the side of his horse in the attempt to dodge the deadly missile, sat bolt upright and aimed in turn at the miscreant, who, as if stirred by the same scorn of personal danger, remained firmly in his seat. it all depended on who should fire first, and that which we have related took place, as may be said, in the twinkling of an eye. but with the weapons poised, the eyes of the two glancing along the barrels and the fingers on the triggers, neither gun was discharged. brinton was on the point of firing, when the indian abruptly lowered his winchester, with the exclamation-- "hoof! brinton!" the white youth had recognised the other at the same instant when another moment would have been too late. he, too, dropped the stock of his gun from his shoulder and called out with a surprised expression-- "wolf ear!" the indian touched his pony with his heel, and the animal moved forward briskly, until the riders faced each other within arm's length. "how do you do?" asked the ogalalla, extending his hand, which brinton took with a smile, and the reproving remark-- "i did not expect such a welcome from you, wolf ear." "i did not know it was you, good friend brinton." "and suppose you did not; are you the sort of warrior that shoots another in the back?" the broad face, with its high cheek bones, coppery skin, low forehead and roman nose, changed from the pleasant smile which gave a glimpse of the even white teeth, to a scowl, that told the ugly feelings that had been stirred by the questioning remark of the white youth. "your people have become my enemies: they have killed sitting bull, black bird, catch-the-bear, little assiniboine, spotted horse bull, brave thunder, and my friend, crow foot, who was the favourite son of sitting bull. he was as a brother to me." "and your people have killed bull head, shave head, little eagle, afraid-of-soldiers, hawk man, and others of their own race, who were wise enough to remain friends of our people. i know of that fight when they set out to arrest sitting bull." "they had no right to arrest him," said wolf ear, with a flash of his black eyes; "he was in his own tepee (or tent), and harming no one." "he was doing more harm to his own people as well as ours, than all the other malcontents together. he was the plotter of mischief; he encouraged this nonsense about the ghost dances and the coming messiah, and was doing all he could to bring about a great war between my people and yours. his death is the best fortune that could come to the indians." "it was murder," said wolf ear sullenly, and then, before the other could frame a reply, his swarthy face lightened up. "but you and i, brinton, are friends; i shot at you because i thought you were someone else; it would have grieved my heart had i done you harm; i am glad i did not; i offer you my hand." young kingsland could not refuse the proffer, though he was far from feeling comfortable, despite his narrow escape a moment before. "i thought you were a civilised indian, wolf ear," he added, as he relinquished the grasp, and the two once more looked in each other's countenances; "you told me so when i last saw you." wolf ear, the ogalalla, was sent to carlisle, when only eight years old. unusually bright, he had made good progress, and won the golden opinions of his teachers by his gentle, studious deportment, and affection for those that had been kind to him. he spoke english as well as the whites, and was a fine scholar. he went back to his people, when sixteen years old, and did what he could to win them from their savagery and barbarism. he and brinton kingsland met while hunting at the base of the black hills, and became great friends. the young ogalalla visited the white youth at his home on raccoon creek, where he was kindly treated by the kingslands, and formed a deep affection for little edith. but nothing had been seen of wolf ear for several months. the home of his people was some distance away, but that should not have prevented him from visiting his white friends, who often wondered why he did not show himself among them. rather curiously, brinton was thinking of his dusky comrade at the moment he was roused by the shot which nipped his coat sleeve. it was natural that he should be disappointed, and impatient to find that this bright indian youth, who had lived for several years among civilised people, was carried away by the wave of excitement that was sweeping across the country. he knew that his twin brother and his father were still savages, and it was easy to find excuse for them, but not for wolf ear. "you believe in the coming of one to save your people--why should not we place faith in the coming of our messiah?" was the pertinent question of wolf ear. "what is this revelation?" asked brinton, who had heard many conflicting accounts of the strange craze, and felt a natural desire for an authoritative statement. "the messiah once descended to save the white race, but they rejected and put him to death. in turn he rejects them, and will come in the spring, when the grass is about two inches high, and save his red children and destroy his white ones. he has enjoined upon all of us who believe in him to wear a certain dress and to practise the ghost dance, as often and as long as we possibly can, as a proof of our faith. if any of us die from exhaustion, while performing this ceremony, we will be taken direct to the messiah, where we shall meet those who have died, and whence we will come back to tell the living what we have seen and heard. when the messiah comes in the spring, a new earth will be created, covering the present world, burying all the whites and those red men that have not joined in the dance. the messiah will again bring with him the departed of our own people, and the earth shall once more be as our forefathers knew it, except there shall be no more death." brinton kingsland listened, amazed as this expression fell from the lips of one who had often lamented the superstition of his own race. that he believed the words he uttered was proven by his earnestness of manner and the glow of his countenance. the white youth restrained his impulse to ridicule the strange faith, for that assuredly would have given offence to the fanatic, who had the right to believe whatever he chose. "well, wolf ear, i can only say i am sorry that you should have been carried away by this error----" "by what right do you call it error?" interrupted the other with a flash of his eyes. "we will not discuss it. it will do no good, and is likely to do harm. i need not be told that you belong to the hostiles, and, if trouble comes, will fight against the whites." "yes, you are right," calmly replied the ogalalla, compressing his thin lips and nodding his head a single time. "your father and brother, whom i have never seen, would shoot me and my folk if they had the chance." "yes, and so would my mother: she is a warrior too." "but suppose you and i or my father meet, or you have the chance to harm my mother and little sister, edith?" "wolf ear can never raise his hand against them, no matter what harm they may seek to do him. i do not have to tell you that you and i will always be friends, whatever may come." this assurance would have had more weight with young kingsland could he have felt certain that wolf ear was truthful in declaring that he did not suspect his identity at the moment of firing at him. "i believe he meant to take my life," was his thought, "and still meant to do so, when he raised his winchester a second time, but as we looked into each other's face, he weakened. his people are treacherous, and this pretence of goodwill will not last, or, if it be genuine for the present, it will soon change." brinton said-- "you know where we live, wolf ear; i have set out to ride to the reservation to learn whether it is safe to stay where we are: what is your judgment in the matter?" an indefinable expression passed over the broad face before him. the ogalalla sat gracefully on his horse, even though he had no saddle. a bit was in the pony's mouth, the single rein looping around the neck and resting at the base of the mane, just in front of the rider, who allowed it to lie there, while the two hands idly held the rifle across the back of the animal and his own thighs. "you stayed too long," said he; "you should have left two weeks ago; _it is too late now_." "but you know my father is not well, wolf ear," replied brinton, with a sickening dread in his heart. "what has that to do with this?" "we did not wish to expose him to the severe weather, as we must in the ride to the agency." "is he better and stronger now?" "there is little improvement in his condition. he has been ailing a long time, as you know." "then you have gained nothing and will lose all by your delay." brinton had no further wish to discuss the ghost dance and the coming of the new messiah with the young ogalalla. all his thoughts were of those dear ones, miles away, whose dreadful peril he now fully comprehended for the first time. he saw the mistake that had been made by the delay, and a faintness came over him at the declaration of wolf ear that this delay was fatal. his horse was facing the north-west, the direction of his home. there was no call for longer tarrying. "good-bye," he said, giving the indian a military salute; "i hope we shall meet ha more pleasant circumstances, when you shall see, wolf ear, the mistake you are making." trained in the ways of the white people, the dusky youth raised his hand to his forehead, and sat motionless on his horse, without speaking, as his friend dashed across the plain, over the trail which he had followed to the banks of the big cheyenne. it was not yet noon, and brinton was hopeful of reaching home long before the day drew to a close. the chilliness of the air continued, and a few feathery flakes of snow drifted horizontally on the wind or were whirled about the head of the young horseman. he glanced up at the leaden sky and noted that the temperature was falling. "like enough we shall have one of those blizzards, when the horses and cattle freeze to death under shelter and we can only huddle and shiver around the fire and wait for the tempest to pass. it will be the death of us all, if we start for the agency and are caught in one of the blizzards, but death awaits us if we stay. ah me, what will become of father, ill and weak as he is?" the words of wolf ear made the youth more circumspect and alert than when riding away from his home. he continually glanced ahead, on his right and left and to the rear. the first look in the last direction showed him the young ogalalla sitting like a statue on his pony and gazing after him. some minutes later, when brinton turned his head again, he saw him riding at a rapid pace towards the north, or rather a little west of north, so that the course of the two slightly diverged. "he's up to some mischief, i'll warrant," was brinton's conclusion, "and he already recalls his profession of friendship for me. halloa! i don't like the look of _that_." in the precise direction pursued by the ogalalla, which was toward rapid creek, a tributary of the big cheyenne, he discerned several indian horsemen. they were riding close, and were so mingled together that it was impossible to tell their number. they seemed to be about half a dozen, and were advancing as if to meet wolf ear, who must have descried them before brinton. "they will soon unite, and when they do he will be the fiercest warrior among them. i wonder----" he held his breath a moment, and then only whisper-- "i wonder if they have not already visited our home?" chapter iii. "there are fifty hostiles." to the westward the black hills thrust their vast rugged summits against the wintry sky; to the south, a spur of the same mountains put out toward the frontier town of buffalo gap; to the north-east wound the big cheyenne, on its way to the missouri, and marking through a part of its course the southern boundary of the cheyenne reservation, while creek, stream, and river crossed the rolling plain that intervened, and over all stretched the sunless sky, from which the snow-flakes were eddying and whirling to the frozen earth below. but brinton kingsland had no eye for any of these things, upon which he had looked many a time and oft. his thoughts were with those loved ones in the humble cabin, still miles away, toward the towering mountains, while his immediate anxiety was about the hostiles that had appeared in his front and were now circling to the northward as if to meet wolf ear, the young ogalalla, who was galloping in the face of the biting gale and rapidly drawing toward them. brinton's expectation that they would lose no time in coming together was not precisely fulfilled, for while the horsemen were yet a long way off, they swerved sharply, as though they identified the youth for the first time. "they intend to give me some attention," was his thought, "without waiting for wolf ear to join them. they know that i belong to the white race, and that is enough." the youth did not feel any special alarm for himself, for he was confident that jack was as fleet-footed as any of the animals bestrode by the hostiles, and would leave them behind in a fair race. he noticed that the ogalalla was mounted on a superior beast, but he did not believe he could outspeed jack. but it would never do to meet those half-dozen horsemen that had faced toward him, and were approaching at the same swinging gallop. brinton diverged more to the left, thus leaving the trail, and they also changed their course, as if to head him off. "if it is to be a race, i am throwing away my chances by helping to shorten the distance between us." the fugitive now headed directly away from the horsemen, so that both parties were pursuing the same line. the youth looked back, at the moment that several blue puffs of smoke showed over the backs of the horses. the thudding reports came through the chilly air, and a peculiar whistling sound overhead left no doubt that the hostiles, great as was the separating space, had fired at the fugitive, who turned to take a look at wolf ear. that individual discharged his gun the next moment. brinton heard nothing of the bullet, but smiled grimly-- "he has changed his mind soon, but they have got to come closer before they hurt me. he is no great marksman anyway, or he would not have missed me a little while ago." it was singular that it did not occur to young kingsland that it was possible the ogalalla had not fired at him at all. not even when the horsemen checked their pursuit, and reining up their animals awaited the coming of the buck, who was riding like a hurricane, could he bring himself to think of wolf ear except as a bitter enemy, who for some subtle purpose of his own had declared a temporary truce. "i suppose they think i shall be along this way again pretty soon, and they can afford to wait till i run into their trap," was the conclusion of brinton, who headed his pony once more toward his home, and put him to his best paces. "come, jack, there's no time to throw away; hard work is before you, and you must struggle as never before." the snowfall which seemed for ever impending did not come. the few scattering flakes still circled and eddied through the air, as if reluctant to touch the earth, but no perceptible increase appeared in their number. the nipping air seemed to have become too cold to permit a snow-storm. brinton had set out fully prepared for such change of temperature. he wore a thick woollen cap, whose flaps were drawn down to his ears, while they were more than met by the heavy coat collar that was turned up, the garment itself being closely buttoned around his body. his rifle rested across the pommel of his saddle in front, and his gloved hands scarcely ever touched the rein which lay loose on his pony's neck. he was a capital horseman, and, with the understanding between him and his intelligent beast, could have got along without any bit at all. strapped behind him was a substantial lunch, and his keen appetite would have made it enjoyable, but he did not disturb it. it could wait until he learned the truth about the folk at home, which he was now rapidly drawing near. over a swell in the prairie, across a small creek, whose icy waters hardly came above jack's fetlocks, up a second rise, and then brinton kingsland uttered an exclamation of amazement and sharply checked his animal. "my gracious! what is the meaning of that?" over another swell, and only a few hundred yards away, two other horses rode to view, coming directly toward him. each sustained a heavily muffled figure, and they were moving at a rapid walk. suspecting their identity, he waited a minute, and then started his horse forward again. a few paces, and despite the arctic temperature, he raised his cap from his head and called out-- "hurrah! thank heaven, you are alive, and have started for the agency." his father sat on one horse, swathed in heavy clothing, and a blanket which the faithful wife had fastened around his emaciated and weak form, while she, with edith in front, and both also protected against the severe weather, were on the other animal. he had a rifle across his saddle front, like the son, and they had brought with them nothing but a small amount of food, barely enough to last them until they could reach the agency, provided there was no unexpected delay on the road. the discovery that they were alive and secure for the time, though the shadow of a great peril was over all, so delighted the son that he could not repress the shout of joy, as he rode forward and greeted them, little more than their eyes and noses showing through the thick coverings. "what made you leave before i got back?" was the first inquiry of brinton, after a few congratulatory words. "we concluded it was high time to do so," replied the father, showing more vigour in his voice than the son expected. "how did you find it out?" "a half-dozen hostiles fired several times at the house, and then, as if they feared they were not strong enough to capture us and burn the cabin, rode off for help." "they are hardly out of sight now; they gave me half a dozen shots, and i had a short chase with them. but you are off the trail." "and so are you," said his father. "which is a mighty good thing for us both. you had to abandon everything?" "of course; i have no doubt though," added the father grimly, "that the indians will look after the live stock for us." "whom do you suppose i saw?" asked brinton, turning to his mother and sister. "a big bear?" ventured edith from the depths of her wrappings. "no; he was an old friend of yours--wolf ear, who used to come to our house and have such good times with you." the excited child flung her arms about in the effort to free herself of the encumbering wrappings. "oh, where is he? why didn't he come with you? didn't he want to see me? i am so sorry; isn't he with you?" and she peered around, as if she suspected the young ogalalla was hiding behind the saddle of her brother. brinton smiled, and then gravely shook his head. he said, addressing his parents more than the little one-- "i was never more astonished than to find that wolf ear, despite the training he has had at carlisle, has joined the hostiles, and is now an enemy of those who were such good friends of his." the youth did not think it wise to tell, in the presence of his sister, the particulars of their first meeting. "you grieve me more than i can express," replied the father; "are you sure you are not mistaken?" "not when he told me so himself." "but you must have met as friends." "he said he would not harm any one of us, if the fortunes of war should give him the chance; but he declares himself the enemy of all others of our race. he has a twin brother, and he and his father and mother, as wolf ear coolly told me, would be pleased to scalp us. i have no more faith in _him_ than in _them_. we parted as friends, but he has joined that very party which fired on you, and will go back to the house with them." "and finding us gone, what then?" "he will lead them on our trail and be among the foremost to shoot us down, every one of us." "i don't believe it!" called edith from her wraps, which her mother had put around her again; "i like wolf ear and want to see him." brinton did not think it worth while to discuss the matter with his sister, for a far more important matter pressed upon them. "it won't do to follow the trail," remarked the father, "since they will be on the look-out for us. we will bear to the south, so as to strike the cheyenne further up stream." "we may not be able to ford it." "we can follow it down till we find a place. it may be frozen over nearer its source. the agency is so far off that we shall have to go into camp before we can get half-way there." "how do you feel, father?" abruptly asked his son, glancing keenly at him. "are you strong enough to stand this hard ride?" "i am much stronger than you would suppose; you know a crisis like this will rouse any man, even if he is a good deal more unwell than i am." "i am glad to hear you talk that way, but you will be tried hard before we reach pine ridge." "give yourself no uneasiness about me; the only thing we are to think about is how we shall get to the agency without meeting with the hostiles, who seem to be roaming everywhere." while they sat talking, at the base of the swell, on the summit of which the parents had first appeared, all partook of lunch, for it was not likely they would have a more favourable opportunity before the coming of night. it was decided to bear still more to the south, with a view of avoiding the party that was at no great distance. indeed, less than half an hour had passed since they vanished from the view of the youth, who believed they were waiting in the vicinity of the trail for his return, and would attack the whites the moment they discovered them. the halt lasted little more than a quarter of an hour, when they resumed their journey toward the agency, which they hoped, rather than expected, to reach by the morrow's set of sun. the mother was without any weapon, though she was quite skilful in the use of a rifle. her husband said that if he found himself compelled to yield to weakness, he would turn over his winchester to her, believing as he did that she was sure to give a good account of herself. they were plentifully supplied with cartridges, but the reader does not need to be reminded of their almost helpless situation. kingsland, despite his brave efforts to keep up, was unable to ride his pony at full speed for any length of time, while the wife, burdened with the care of edith, could not expect to do much better. if the company were attacked by any party of hostiles, however slight in numbers, deplorable consequences were almost certain. their hope would be in finding some sort of shelter which might be turned to account as a screen or barricade. but their only safety, it may be said, lay in avoiding the indians altogether, and it was to that task that brinton, as the strongest one of the party, addressed himself with all the energy and skill of his nature. the course was up and down continually, though none of the swells in the prairie was of much height. the youth rode slightly in advance and never made his way to the top of one of the slight elevations without a quicker throbbing of the heart and a misgiving which made the situation of the most trying nature. it was the dread of the hostiles, with whom wolf ear had joined himself, that led him to make a longer bend to the south than even his father had contemplated. true, as he well knew, they were not the sole indians to be dreaded, but they were the only ones of whom he had positive knowledge. others were likely to be encountered at any time, and it may be said that as they drew nearer the agency, the peril increased. a half-dozen miles from where the family had been reunited, they approached a higher elevation than any that had yet been crossed. brinton asked the rest to halt at the base, while he dismounted and carefully went to the top on foot. it was well he took this precaution, for his friends, who were watching his crouching figure as he cautiously went up the incline, saw him abruptly halt and peer over the ridge, in a way which showed he had perceived something. he remained but a minute, when he hurried back, pale and excited. "there are fifty hostiles!" he exclaimed in an undertone, "and they are only a little way off!" chapter iv. "we abe enemies." brinton kingsland, after peering over the crest of the elevation for a few brief moments, turned and hastily descended to where his pony awaited him. without touching his bridle, he spoke, and the obedient animal followed him, while the parents and little sister anxiously listened to the report of what he learned. "it's the very party of indians that we have been trying to get away from," added the youth to his first explanation; "there are seven of them, and wolf ear is among them." "is he?" eagerly asked edith, from her wrappings on the saddle in front of her mother "oh, let me see him! tell him i am here." "keep quiet! don't speak," said her father sternly. "wolf ear is with bad indians, and is a bad indian himself" the child would have protested, but for the manner of her father. he could be firm when he chose, and she knew better than to disobey him but she pouted just a little, as she nestled down by her mother, who shared to some extent her faith in the ogalalla who had spent so many hours under their roof. "what are they doing?" asked mr. kingsland of his son. "they act queerly; the party are drawn up together, and looking off in the direction of the trail to the agency, over which they expect us to pass." "they are on the watch for us, of course; how far away do you judge the trail to be?" "several miles; it seems odd to me that they should ride so far south, instead of staying nearer to it." "it is plain enough to me; they fear that if we caught sight of them, as we should be sure to do, we would hurry back to the house, where they should have less chance against us. by keeping hidden, so that we could not discover our danger until too far away from home, they could ride in behind us and cut off our escape in that direction. but how are we to escape them?" "we passed an arroya a little way back: let us take to that, and there isn't a minute to lose." the youth hastily climbed into the saddle, and turned the nose of jack about, so that he went back directly over his own hoof-prints. a little distance, and they struck a narrow valley-like depression, which wound further to the south than the course they were pursuing at the moment of the startling interruption. he entered this at once, the others directly at his heels, the animals walking fast, but with a silence that made one suspect they understood the danger that threatened all. the arroya, as it is termed in some parts of the country, was a straight passage, resembling a gully, between banks a dozen feet in height. it looked as if it had been washed out years before, by some violent rush of waters, which soon ran itself dry, leaving the abrupt banks, facing each other, at varying distances of from ten to fifty feet. in some places these banks of clay were perpendicular, so that a horse, once within the gorge, could not leave it at many points, while in others, the dirt had tumbled in to an extent which made it easy for him to climb out. the course of the arroya was devious, and there was no saying when it would terminate by rising to the level of the prairie. at most, it could be but a temporary refuge for the fugitives. the thought occurred to both father and son that the indians must soon discover this refuge, which would be welcome to them and their animals while the piercing blast was sweeping across the prairie. the eddying snow had almost ceased, but the wind blew fitfully, and whenever it touched the face or bare hand, it was like a needle of ice. the american indian is one of the toughest of creatures, but he does not disdain shelter for himself and beast from the merciless blizzard, or driving tempest. many of those gathered about pine ridge, during the critical days in ' -' , found protection in the pockets of earth in the gullies, where they peered out like wild animals on the alert for a chance to spring at the blue-coated sentinel, without risk to themselves. if the arroya should hold its general course southward for several miles, the little party might successfully escape the hostiles, who intruded between them and the agency. the afternoon was wearing away, and the night would be moonless and starless. our friends hoped, if they escaped until then, to lessen greatly the distance between them and pine ridge. a quarter or a third of a mile through the winding gully, and brinton drew rein, and waited until his parents rode up beside him. "i wonder what has become of them?" was his inquiring remark. "what does it matter," asked his mother in turn, "so long as we cannot see them? we must be a good way from them now." "i wish i could think so, but i can't feel easy while riding in this blind fashion. there may be greater danger in front than we have left behind." "what do you propose to do?" asked the father. "take a look round and learn, if i can, how things are going." without explaining further, the youth swung himself down once more from the saddle, and hurried to the edge of the arroya on his left. there was a spot so sloping that after a little work, with the dirt crumbling under his feet, he reached the level above, and was able to peer over a great deal of the surrounding prairie without exposing himself. the result ought to have been gratifying, but it was hardly that. north, south, east, and west the youth bent his keen vision, but not a sign of the dreaded hostiles was to be seen. they were as invisible as though they had never been. had the distance travelled by the fugitives since their fright been twice or thrice as great, this must have been the best of omens, but the space was not far, and it was almost self-evident that the band was still in the neighbourhood. but where? that was the question on the lips of father and son as they discussed the situation, and in the minds of both trembled the same answer: the hostiles were in the arroya itself, behind the fugitives. "they have ridden down the bank," said the parent, "to shelter their ponies from the icy blast, and are there now." "will they suspect that we have been this way?" inquired the mother. "they cannot fail to notice the hoof-prints we have left," replied her husband, "and that will tell the story as plainly as if they sat on the bank as we rode by." the alarming declaration caused the wife to cast a terrified glance behind her, as if she expected to see the ferocious redskins burst into view with crack of rifle and ear-splitting shriek. in the circumstances, there was manifestly but one thing to do--push on with no more delay than was inevitable. the ground at the bottom of the arroya was comparatively level, and the horses dropped into an easy swinging gallop, which lasted but a few minutes, when mr. kingsland called in a faint voice, as he brought his animal down to a walk-- "hold on, brinton!" "what is the matter?" asked the son, looking at him in dismay. "i can't stand it; i am not as strong as i thought." he reeled in his saddle, and the startled son reached out to prevent his falling. "forgive me, father; i forgot your illness." "there--there--i am all right," he murmured, putting his hand to his face, in the effort to master his weakness. his wife was also at his side, anxious and alarmed. "hugh, i fear you have undertaken more than you can do," she said, laying her hand affectionately on his arm, and peering into as much of his face as was visible through the thick wrappings. he made no reply, and it was plain that he was nearly fainting. there was nothing his friends could do for him, except to help him out of the saddle, and they were about to propose that, when a slight but alarming accident took place. the winchester, resting across the saddle-bow and hitherto grasped in the mittened hands of the man, slipped from his relaxed fingers and fell to the earth. the lock struck in such a way that a chamber was discharged, the bullet burying itself in the bank which brinton had climbed only a few minutes before. the sharp explosion roused edith, who was sinking into a doze, and imparted to the man himself such a shock that his growing faintness gave instant place to renewed strength. he straightened up and said-- "gracious! that's too bad; _they_ must have heard it." "we can't tell about that; are you stronger?" "yes; let's push on; we must lose no time." brinton longed to force the animals into a gallop, but dared not, after what had just taken place. but they were pushed to a rapid walk, which was kept up some ten or fifteen minutes, when came another sudden halt, for the good reason that they had reached the end of the arroya. that singular formation, after winding about for a long distance, rose to the level of the prairie, and disappeared. to proceed further must be done by exposure to any hostiles in the neighbourhood. brinton stopped and looked inquiringly at his father. "as near as i can judge," said the latter, "we are close to the big cheyenne; we ought to cross that early this evening and keep on to the white, which should be reached by daylight; then the ride is not far to pine ridge." "night is near; we will wait awhile; the rest will do you good, and i will take a look over our own trail." leaving his friends to themselves, brinton headed back and struck jack into a moderate gallop through the arroya. he was uneasy over that accident with his father's winchester. if heard by the keen-eared hostiles they would start an investigation, which could have but one result. "they must have heard it," was his belief, "and if so, they knew where it came from. it won't take them long to learn its meaning--halloa! what's the matter, jack?" more than once, the sagacity of his animal had warned the youth of the approach of danger. the pony dropped into a walk so quickly that the rider was thrown slightly forward in the saddle. then the animal pricked up his ears, took a few more stops and halted. "that means something," thought brinton, bringing his rifle round to the front and making ready to use it on the instant if needed. he softly drew the mitten from his right hand. the gully turned sharply to the left, just ahead, and he knew that jack had scented danger. but, if so, minute after minute passed and it did not appear. the youth became perplexed, and was in sore doubt whether to push on a little further or turn back. he gently twitched the rein and touched his heels against the ribs of his pony. he advanced a couple of paces, and stopped as abruptly as before, his head still up, his ears erect, while the snuffing nostrils showed that he was wiser than his rider. "i'll be hanged if i don't learn the meaning of this," muttered brinton kingsland, who, with less discretion than he generally showed, swung himself out of the saddle and moved stealthily forward, with the resolution to learn the cause of jack's alarm. and he learned it soon enough. he had barely time to pass part way round the curve in the arroya, which was unusually winding at that portion, when he came face to face with an indian horseman. the animal of the latter, quite as sagacious as jack's, had detected the presence of a stranger beyond the turn, and halted until the latter revealed himself, or his master decided upon the line to pursue. brinton's great blunder was in moving so impatiently through the gully that he was revealed too soon to draw back. thus it was that it may be said he almost precipitated himself upon the buck before he saw him. it would be hard to describe brinton's emotions when on the first startled glance at the solitary indian he recognised him as wolf ear, whom he had encountered but a little while before. the indian looked fixedly at him, and something like a smile lit up his broad coppery face. "thus we meet, brinton," he said in his low voice; "will you come forward and shake hands?" "why should i shake hands?" asked the youth, thoroughly distrustful of the ogalalla; "we are enemies." "that is for you to decide," was the cool remark of the indian youth. he made as if to ride away, when brinton interposed. "your actions do not agree with your words." "and why not?" "after parting from me, you rode away and joined my enemies." to the amazement of the youth, the young ogalalla without a word wheeled about and galloped out of sight up the arroya. chapter v. "what will be their next step?" brinton kingsland was in the saddle again on the instant, and his pony dashed down the arroya at full speed. "wolf ear has hurried back to tell the rest that he has seen us, and they will be here in a few minutes," was the belief that lent wings to his speed. it was a comparatively short ride to where his friends awaited him. a minute sufficed for them to learn the alarming tidings. "it won't do to delay another second; come on!" the next moment the two horses followed the youth out of the gully upon the plain. "can you stand it, father?" he asked, holding his pony back and looking inquiringly at him. "yes, my son; don't think of me," was the brave response, as the parent struck his animal into a gallop. the mother was a capital horsewoman, and little edith, who was now fully awake, once more accommodated herself to her position, so as to save all embarrassment so far as she was concerned. child-like, she wanted to ask innumerable questions, but she was intelligent enough to understand that silence was expected of her, and she held her peace, wondering, perplexed, and frightened. the wintry afternoon was wearing to a close. the sky maintained its heavy leaden hue, the wind blew fitfully and was of piercing keenness, and the occasional snow-flakes, whirling about the heads of the fugitives, were more like hailstones than the soft downy particles which had appeared earlier in the afternoon. the view was shortened in the gathering gloom, and the anxious eyes glancing around the different points of the compass, and especially to the rear, failed to reveal the dreaded horsemen from whom they were fleeing. the hope of the little party lay in keeping beyond sight of their enemies until night. with no moon and stars to guide them, the hostiles could not keep their trail, which our friends were sure to make as winding as possible. as the night approached, their hopes increased. darkness was closing in when they reached the bank of the big cheyenne, and, for the first time since leaving the arroya, they drew rein. "this is better than i dared expect," said the father in high spirits, and seemingly strengthened by his sharp ride through the cutting cold; "i can hardly understand it." "i suspect that wolf ear made a blunder." "in what way?" "he did not think we should leave the gully before night; he went back and told the rest. they dared not attack us where we had some show to defend ourselves; they will not discover our flight until it is too late." while there seemed reason in this belief, it did not fully satisfy the father. it was not in keeping with the subtlety of the american indian that they should allow a party of whites to ride directly away from them, when they were at their mercy. any one of the hostiles, by climbing the side of the arroya, was sure to see the little company of fugitives emerge therefrom, and it was inconceivable that they should not take that simple precaution. "there is something beyond all this which has not yet appeared," he said; "neither wolf ear nor his companions are fools." the river swept by in the gathering darkness at their feet. the current was not swift, but pieces of ice lay against the shores, and floated past in the middle of the stream. the opposite bank could hardly be seen in the gloom. "must we cross that?" asked mrs. kingsland, as the horses halted on the margin of the icy waters. "yes," replied her husband, "and twenty miles further we must cross the white, to say nothing of smaller streams, which may be as deep and more difficult. pine ridge lies fifty miles away, and there's no going round any of the water." "it will be the death of us to swim our horses," she said with a shudder; "we shall freeze to death." "that is not to be thought of," brinton hastened to explain; "while the cheyenne has many deep places at this season, there are others where a horse can wade across without wetting one's stirrups." "but how are we to know such fords?" "by trying, and there's no better place than this; wait till i make the attempt." with commendable promptness he urged jack forward, and the animal, understanding what was required of him, stepped among the pieces of ice along the bank. he slipped on one, and edith uttered a cry of alarm. "look out, brint! you will fall into the water." "don't fret about me," he called back. a few reassuring words to his pony, who hesitated and sniffed, as if about to draw back, and he continued his cautious advance into the stream, the others anxiously watching his progress. should the water prove deep enough to force the steed to swim, it would never do, for that would necessitate the saturation of the garments of all, which meant freezing to death. as long as the ponies maintained a sure footing, even though the water crept well up their sides, the riders could guard themselves against the dreaded wetting. brinton, therefore, ventured into the stream with the utmost care, his animal feeling every step of the way. ten steps from the bank, and the water touched brinton's stirrups. he withdrew his feet and held them out of reach. he was so excellent a horseman that, by the pressure of his knees, he sat almost as firmly in the saddle as if with the support for his feet. "be careful, jack; slowly--slowly--slowly!" jack was sniffing, with his neck outstretched and his nose almost on the surface of the water, the breath issued like steam through his thin silken nostrils, and he paid no heed to a triangular piece of jagged ice which struck his hind legs with a sharp thrust, and then swung clear. he knew his duty, and was doing his "level best." the rider turned his head and looked back. the forms of his parents on their motionless horses were dim, and growing more indistinct in the approaching night. seeing him turn his head, his father called something in a guarded undertone, which the son did not catch, but, believing it was simply a request for him to be careful, he replied, "all right," and went on with the work in hand. several steps further and the water had not perceptibly deepened. brinton, indeed, was inclined to think it had slightly shallowed. "we are pretty near the middle, and it begins to look as if i had struck the right spot after all halloa! what's up now?" jack had stopped, just as he did in the arroya, and with the same appearance of alarm. "can it be that you have scented a deep place in front and want to save me from a bath?" brinton kingsland checked the light question on his lips, for at the moment of uttering it his own vision answered the query in a manner that fairly lifted his cap from his head. a horseman was advancing through the water from the other side of the cheyenne. he was several rods away, but near enough for the youth to recognise him as an indian warrior. he had entered the icy stream, as if to meet the other, who in the same glance that identified him dimly discerned more horsemen on the bank beyond. as in the former instance, jack had discovered the peril before his master and halted, not through fear of a chilling bath, but because of a tenfold greater danger stealing upon them. it looked as if the hostiles, from whom they were fleeing, had come towards the river from beyond, and were again between them and safety. if so, the question might well be asked what was meant by this extraordinary behaviour of the red men? why did they not conceal themselves until the fugitives rode directly into their arms? why take this risk of sending one of their number to meet an enemy in mid-stream, where, despite whatever advantage the savage possessed, he could not help yielding a portion of it to his foe? but it was a moment for action and not for conjecture and speculation. in the same moment that brinton recognised the horseman immediately in his front as a foe, he observed that his pony had also halted and the rider was in the act of bringing his weapon to his shoulder. the mitten was snatched from the youth's right hand and thrust in the pocket of his coat. he had no time to slip the other off, nor was it necessary, since that only supported the rifle. he hastily brought his winchester to a level, and, knowing that everything depended upon who was the quicker, he took instant aim at the centre of the dark figure and let fly. with a wild cry the indian rolled from his pony, and disappeared in the dark waters. his animal, with a snort of alarm, whirled about and dashed to shore, sending the spray flying in all directions. "quick, jack! back with you!" brinton flung himself on the neck of his pony, who seemed to spin about on his hind feet as he galloped furiously through the water for the shore he had just left. nothing but this precaution and the deepening gloom saved the daring youth from death. it required a few precious seconds for the hostiles on the other bank to comprehend what had taken place, and when they began firing the form of the horse and his rider were fast vanishing from sight. but the bullets were whistling perilously near his friends, who did not quite comprehend what had taken place. "move further down the bank!" called brinton in a guarded undertone; "quick! don't stop to ask why, but do as i say!" the parents obeyed, and a minute or two was sufficient to take them out of range. "follow them, jack, and move lively!" the pony obeyed, and he too passed beyond danger for the time. the darkness was too deep for the persons on either bank to discern the others across the stream. the hostiles kept up their firing, in a blind way, hoping that some of their shots might reach the fugitives. brinton had lain down on the shore, so as to decrease the danger of being struck by any of the stray bullets. he could tell where the others were by the flash of their guns, but deemed it best not to fire for the present, through fear of betraying his own position. the dropping shots continued for a few minutes, and then suddenly stopped. it was impossible to tell in the gloom what his enemies were doing, but he suspected the truth: they were preparing to ford the river, with a view of bringing the combatants to close quarters. peering intently into the night, he made out the faint outline of a horseman feeling his way across, and did not doubt that others were close behind him. this must be a particularly favourable ford, else the hostiles would try some other, if they knew of any in the immediate vicinity. it was necessary to check this advance, if he expected to save the dear ones with him. the moment, therefore, he made sure of the object approaching, he sighted as best he could and blazed away, instantly shifting his own position, to escape the return shot which he knew would be quick in coming. it was well he did so, for the flash and report of several rifles and the whistling of the bullets told of the peril escaped by a very narrow chance. there was no reason to believe that his own shot had been fatal, for there was no outcry, nor did the listening ear detect any splash in the water, such as marked his first essays when in mid-stream; but he had accomplished that which he sought--he had checked the advance, which otherwise must have been fatal to him and his companions. the form of the horseman disappeared in the gloom. he had returned to the shore whence he came, and it was safe to conclude that he would not soon repeat the attempt. "what will be their next step?" was the question that presented itself to the young defender of the ford. it was not to be expected that they would try to cross in the face of the certain reception that awaited them. "they know more of the cheyenne than we do," brinton kingsland thought, "and must be aware of some place where they can reach this side without danger. if they do succeed in coming over, there will be trouble." he dared not wait long, for nothing was to be gained, while he ran the risk of losing everything. only the sound of the rushing water, the crunching of the ice, reached his ear. rising to his feet and peering into the gloom, he could discern nothing of his foes. "there's no need of my staying here," he decided, starting along the stream in quest of his parents. when he had passed a hundred yards without seeing them, he was astonished. another hundred, and still they were invisible, and the cautious signals he made remained unanswered. chapter vi. "ay, where were they?" by the unaccountable disappearance of his parents and the horses, brinton was left in a state rather of perplexity than alarm. the time was so brief since they left him, that he could not understand how they had gone far, nor why they did not answer the guarded calls he made. he noticed that when in obedience to his urgent entreaties the couple rode away, followed by his own pony, they went down stream, that is, in the direction of the current. surely they could not have passed any distance, and he believed they heard his voice when, making a funnel with his mittened hands, he pronounced the words-- "father! mother! where are you?" if they did not reply, it was because of the danger involved in doing so. it was incautious on his part to shout, even in a suppressed voice, at such a time. the bank on his left was a little higher than his head, and so sloping that the horses could climb out with little effort; but, as will be recalled, the night was unusually dark, and he might pass over the plainest trail without knowing it. he ran some distance further, keeping close to the water, but still failed to find them. "they have climbed out of the bed of the stream; something unexpected has occurred, or they would not leave me in this manner." he felt his way to the bank, and easily placed himself upon the level ground above. there he strove to pierce the gloom, but nothing rewarded the effort. "well, i'll be hanged!" he muttered, "if this isn't the greatest surprise i ever knew. it looks as if the ground had opened and swallowed them." in the northern sky the heavy gloom was relieved by a faint glow, which at first he took for the aurora borealis, but a few minutes' scrutiny convinced him that it was the light of some burning building, the dwelling evidently of some ranchman, whose family had probably paid with their lives the penalty of tarrying too long. "a few hours more, and father, mother, and edith would have shared the same fate. it may still be theirs to do so." the sound of a whinny from behind caused him to turn his head. he could see nothing, but he was sure that it was one of his father's ponies that thus made known his presence. it would have been the height of imprudence, however, had he acted upon such a belief, after what had so recently occurred, and when a safe and certain test was at his command. he emitted a low tremulous whistle of such a musical tone that it reached a goodly distance in spite of the gale. "that can be heard further than the neigh, and, if it finds the ear of jack, no one can restrain him from coming to me." but though the call was repeated there was no response. the alarming conclusion was unavoidable: the sound had been made by an indian pony near at hand. aware that his own situation, despite the darkness, was perilous, the youth sat down on the frosty earth, near the edge of the bank, until he could gain some idea of his bearings. within the next ten seconds the whinny was repeated, and this time seemingly within a dozen feet, but below the bank, and consequently between him and the water. he knew what it meant: the hostiles had crossed the stream lower down, and were ascending it in the search for the fugitives. but for the fact that one of their ponies showed a strange lack of training, the youth would have run right into them. it might be that the reckless horse was a captured one! they were so close, however, that brinton did not dare to flee, especially as he did not know in which direction safety lay. he lay flat on the earth, with his head just above the edge of the bank, so that had there been any light he could have seen what was going on below. it is rare that a night is totally devoid of the least ray of illumination. brinton, therefore, could never believe he was mistaken when, peering down into the gloom, he fancied he discerned the shadowy outlines of a horseman move slowly in front of him, like the figure of the magic lantern. it melted in the gloom, and then came another and another, until he counted six. the sounds of the hoofs on the hard ground removed the doubt which otherwise he might have felt. "the same party," was his thought; "one is missing, and, if i am not mistaken, i had something to do with his disappearance." a different noise came to his ears. one of the bucks was making his pony climb the bank where the slope was abrupt. the labour was hard, but after a strenuous effort he stood on the earth above. he was followed by the others in indian file, the ascent taking but a few minutes. the disturbing feature about this business was that the whole party had climbed the bank within a dozen feet of where brinton was lying, and they halted when so near that he was half afraid some of the horses might step on him. had there been any light in the sky he would have felt they were trifling with him, as a cat plays with a mouse. but, if the hostiles could not see or detect his presence, their horses were sure to discover that a stranger was near. "it's too bad!" thought brinton, who, believing that his own people were safe, was able to give more thought to himself; "it looks as if there's no getting rid of them. i think this is a good time for me to leave." for a single moment he was certain he was discovered. one of the warriors uttered an exclamation, and a slight sound showed that he had dropped from his horse to the ground. the youth was on the point of rolling over the edge of the bank and taking to his heels, in the hope that the darkness would allow him to escape, when, to his dismay, a tiny point of light flashed out of the gloom. one of the hostiles had dismounted to light a cigarette, placing himself so that his horse's body kept off the wind. brinton's position gave him a good view of the operation. the savage drew the match along a portion of his blanket. the youth saw the slight streak of light and heard the tiny sharp explosion followed by the bursting into flame. the buck shielded it with his curving hands, which were raised to meet the stooping head, as it bent forward with the cigarette between the lips. the glare of the diminutive flame gave a peculiar tint to the fingers, which caused them to glow as if with heat. then the reflection showed the arched nose, the broad face, the serpent-like eyes, and a few straggling hairs on the upper lip, with a glimpse of the dangling locks, thrown forward by the stoop of the head. the glimpse was momentary, but it was clear enough for brinton to recognise the young indian as wolf ear, who he knew was fond of cigarette smoking, that being one of the habits he had acquired among civilised folk. "i am sorry it wasn't _you_ i shot from his horse in mid-stream," was the resentful reflection of him who had once been a devoted friend of the ogalalla. the cigarette being lighted, the buck vaulted upon the back of his pony, where he could be seen by the fiery tip in the dense darkness. brinton wondered why the group of horsemen remained where they were, instead of riding away. that, like many other actions of theirs, was incomprehensible to him. but while he lay flat on the ground, debating what he should next do, if indeed he could do anything, he was frightened by the discovery that gradually but surely the figures of the indians and their ponies were coming into view. the explanation was that the sky, which had been overcast all day and a portion of the night, was slightly clearing--not to any extent, but enough to increase the peril of his own situation to an alarming extent. "it won't do to stay here any longer; i wonder why they have not discovered me before; they will do it in five minutes, if i remain." his position was an awkward one for the movement necessary, but he had no choice, and he began stealthily working himself to the edge of the bank, with the purpose of letting himself noiselessly over to where he would be concealed from sight. all might have gone well had he not forgotten a simple thing. the edge of the bank gave under his weight, and he slid downwards, as if taking a plunge into the river, with the dirt rattling after him. the noise, slight as it was, was certain to attract the notice of the indians, a few feet away. brinton knew this, and he did not wait to see the results. with the nimbleness of a cat, he turned at the moment of striking the bottom of the low cliff, and bounding to his feet, ran along below the bank at his utmost speed. had he continued his flight, quick disaster must have followed; but with a thoughtfulness and self-possession hardly to be expected, he abruptly stopped after running a hundred feet and again threw himself on his face, at the bottom of the bank, and as close to its base as it was possible for him to lie. he knew that he could reach this point before the hostiles would comprehend what had taken place, and consequently before they would attempt to pursue him. since he had no chance against their fleet ponies, he would have been speedily run down had he continued his flight down the river bed, for he heard the sound of their hoofs as they dashed after him. the pursuers were cunning. their ears had told them the course he had taken. several forced their animals down the bank, to prevent his turning back over his own trail, while the others galloped close to the edge above, all the party taking the same direction. thus it would seem that but one desperate hope remained to him, which was to dash into the river and struggle to the other side. but the splash would betray him. the water was probably deep enough to force him to swim. with the thermometer below zero, and encumbered by his clothing, he must perish with cold, if he did not drown. where then was the hope of eluding the hostiles, who were clinging so persistently to his track? there was none excepting in the trick to which he had resorted, and brinton knew it. he was no more than fairly nestled in his hiding-place, when the clatter of hoofs showed that one of the horsemen was almost upon him. he could only hug the base of the bank, and pray for the danger to pass. it did pass, but it was sure speedily to return. it was this belief which led the youth to resort to another artifice, that would have done credit to an experienced ranger of the plains. instead of turning about and running upstream under the bank, he waited until the horsemen above had also passed, and were invisible in the gloom. then he hastily clambered up the slight bluff, rattling down the dirt again in a way that sent a shiver through him. had they been as near as before, they must have certainly discovered him; but if the noise or the crumbling dirt reached the ears of any, they supposed it was caused by some of their companions, for no effort at investigation was made. upon solid ground once more, brinton sped straight out over the plain, and directly away from the river, until he dared to pause, look around and listen. he saw and heard nothing to renew his fear. "can it be that i have shaken them off at last?" he asked himself; "it begins to look like it. where under heaven can the folk be? i hope they have pushed toward the agency, and nothing will happen to them." now it was that he detected something, so faint and indistinct that at first he could not identify it; but, while he wondered and listened, it resolved itself into the sounds of a horse's hoofs. they were not such as are made by an animal galloping or trotting, but by walking. furthermore, he heard but the one series of footfalls. a sudden impulse led brinton to repeat the whistle which he had vainly emitted some time before, when groping along the bank of the big cheyenne. instantly a faint neigh answered, and a pony assumed shape in the darkness as he approached on a joyous trot. "my own jack!" exclaimed the overjoyed youth, flinging his arms about the neck of his favourite and kissing his silken nose; "heaven be thanked that you are restored to me at last. but where are the folk?" ay, where were they? chapter vii. "it came like one of them kansan cyclones." as he was on the point of giving up all hope of ever seeing him again, brinton kingsland was naturally overjoyed at meeting his favourite pony. the situation of the young man would have proved a sad one, had he been compelled to wander over the prairie on foot, for he would have been liable to encounter hostiles at any moment. with the coming of daylight, he could hardly expect to avoid detection by some of the numerous bands galloping hither and thither, ready to pounce upon any defenceless settlers, or to cut off the squads of scouts and soldiers whenever there was a chance of doing so with little peril to themselves. and jack showed as much delight as his master. he thrust his nose forward, and whinnied softly in response to the endearments of brinton. doubtless he had been searching for him for some time. "i tell you, old boy, there are only three persons whom i would rather see just now than you; i won't mention their names, for you know them as well as i do. where are they? surely they can't be far off." an examination of the horse disclosed that his saddle and bridle were intact, thus proving that he had not been in the hands of any enemies, who indeed would not have allowed him to stray off in this fashion. brinton placed his foot in the stirrup, and swung himself astride of the intelligent beast, who capered with pleasure at feeling his master once more in the saddle. now that such good fortune had come to the youth, he grew anxious about the dear ones from whom he had been so strangely separated. there was something in the way in which they had drifted apart that perplexed him. the interval in which it occurred was so brief that he could not believe they were far asunder. the arrival of jack strengthened this belief, and now that he was in the saddle again, he peered around in the gloom, half expecting their forms to take shape and come forward to greet him. the partial clearing of the sky continued. no snow-flakes drifted against him, but the moaning wind was as biting and frigid as ever. the straining gaze, however, could see nothing of horse or person, though he clung to the belief that they were not far away. but with that conviction came the other of the nearness of the dreaded red men. he had left them on the bank of the big cheyenne, which was not distant; and, failing to find him there, it was natural for them to suspect the trick by which he had escaped. but nothing was to be done by sitting motionless on his horse. he ventured to pronounce the name of his father, and then his mother, increasing the loudness of the tone to an imprudent degree. this was done repeatedly, but no answering call was borne back to him. sound could not travel far against the wind on such a blustery night, and they might be within a hundred yards without his being able to hear them or they to hear him. he had absolutely no guide or clue, and despair began to creep into his heart. he asked himself what the result was to be if the aimless wandering should continue through the night. with the rise of the sun, pine ridge would be still a good day's ride away, and it was too much to hope that they would be permitted to gallop unchallenged through the reservation. "jack," said he, addressing his pony in the odd familiar way to which he was accustomed, "i can do nothing; you will have to help us out. so now show what you can do." whether the sagacious animal understood what was asked of him can only be conjectured, but he acted as if he did. he threw up his head, sniffed the air, pricked his ears, and started off at an easy swinging gallop. brinton's heart rose with hope. "he must know where he came from; a horse can teach the best hunter at such a time, and jack understands what he is doing." the pony cantered but a comparatively short way, when he dropped to a rapid walk, which grew slower every moment. it was interesting to see him turn his head and look from side to side, for all the world as if searching for something which he was surprised he did not find. "you must be near the spot," said his master; "don't make any mistake now, my boy." he came to a standstill, still turning his head from side to side, as if examining every point in sight. there could be no doubt that he was disappointed, as naturally was his rider also. "i know this is the spot where you left them to join me, but they are gone. i can do nothing: everything depends on you, jack, and you must not fail me." he resumed his deliberate walk, which was continued for only a short distance. when he halted finally, his actions said as plainly as words-- "i give it up! i've done my best, and, like you, am at my wits' end." for a second time brinton pronounced the names of the loved ones, and while doing so, jack took three or four additional steps, then halted, threw up his head, snorted, and trembled. these signs were unmistakable: he had discovered something. his master urged him forward. he obeyed to the extent of a couple of steps, and then refused to go further. not only that, but he shied to the left, and trembled more than before. brinton soothed him, and then leaned over the saddle and looked into the gloom; and, as he did so, he almost fell from his seat, because of the shock and faintness from what he saw. the first glance told him that _something_ was stretched on the frozen earth but a short distance away. further scrutiny revealed that it was a man, lying motionless at full length. "it is father!" was the thought of the son, who was out of the saddle in a twinkling, and running forward. it was not the body of hugh kingsland, but of a stranger. he had been a powerful man, who had made a brave fight, and had only yielded to superior numbers. brinton did not attempt any examination in the darkness, for there was no need to do so. he uttered a prayer for the unfortunate one, and for those whom he must have left behind him, and added-- "thank heaven, it is not father! but who can say how soon he, too, shall not be thus cut down with mother and little edith?" he remembered that although this tragedy had taken place so near him, and within the last hour or two, he had heard no reports of guns nor any sounds of conflict. that, however, was accounted for by the direction of the wind, as already explained. really nothing seemed left for him to do. he had done everything in his power to find his friends and failed. as long as night continued the faculty of vision was useless to him. "well, jack," he said despairingly, "do as you choose; i am helpless." as if in sympathy with his young master, the pony moved off on a slow walk, which he continued until, by some means, which brinton hardly understood, he clambered down into a gully, similar to the arroya in which they had taken shelter that afternoon. in doing this, it is probable that the animal was guided by that instinct which prompts his kind to seek shelter from the severity of the weather, for the refuge was a welcome one to the rider as well as himself. on the way thither and after arriving there, brinton signalled and called repeatedly to his parents. the continued failure to bring a reply led him to decide that nothing more could be done before morning. he flung himself off his pony, and made ready to remain where he was until then. the gully was narrow, and the banks at the point where he drew rein were high enough to shut out the gale. food for himself and horse was out of the question, and neither was suffering for want of it. the big cheyenne had given to them all the water they wanted; and physically, therefore, nothing in their condition was specially unpleasant. it would have been a great comfort to have had a fire by which to nestle down, but two causes rendered this impossible: no material was within reach, and, if there had been, he would not have dared to kindle it. jack's saddle was removed, and, in obedience to the command of his master, he lay down on the flinty earth, while brinton disposed himself so as to receive a part of the warmth of his body. thus, with the help of his own thick clothing, his situation was more comfortable than would be supposed. despite his worry and anxiety, he soon fell asleep, and did not open his eyes again until the grey light of the wintry morning was stealing through the gully. he was chilled and cramped by his exposure, but leaping to his feet, he soon restored his benumbed circulation. jack, seeing his master astir, sprang up, and looked at him as if to announce that he was ready for any work that was before them. "well, my boy, we shall have to go without our breakfast, but you and i can stand that, i reckon, for this thing must end before we are many hours older----" "well, i'll be shot!" the exclamation was uttered by a horseman, who at that moment rode into sight in the gully and checked his animal only a couple of rods distant, adding-- "i didn't expect to meet you here, brint; where are the rest of the folk?" "that's what i would like to know; i am worried to death, nick; can't you help us?" "i'll do anything i can, my lad, but what is it?" the newcomer was nicholas jackson, serving as a scout for general miles. it will be remembered that it was he who stopped at the home of the kingslands a short time before and warned them of their danger. had his advice been heeded, they would not have been in such sore straits at this time. brinton quickly told of his strange experience of the night before and his perplexity as to what he should do. "i don't think anything has happened to them," was the reassuring response of jackson, "for the darkness was in their favour. they are hiding somewhere in these gullies, just as you did, and dare not show themselves." "but how are we to find them?" "there's only one way i know of--look for them." "what are you doing here, nick?" "we learned at wounded knee that a company with supplies was to come from rapid city, and i have been sent out on a scout; an escort is coming to bring them into camp. you have heard of the battle at wounded knee creek, i suppose?" "not a word." the old scout compressed his lips and shook his head. "i have been in a good many scrimmages under generals crook and miles, but that was the hottest half-hour i ever spent." "how was it, nick?" "you know that the hostiles have been gathering in the bad lands ever since this trouble began. we have them pretty well surrounded, but there must be a big fight before we wind up this serious business. two days before christmas word reached us that three thousand indians, including six hundred bucks, were there. you can understand how much relief it was, therefore, to learn that big foot, with a lot of sitting bull's fugitives on cherry creek reservation, had surrendered to colonel sumner. "that was all well enough, but while conducting the band of two hundred to the missouri, the next day, the whole lot escaped and hurried south to join kicking bear and the rest of the hostiles. _then_ the trouble began. "four days later little bat, one of our indian scouts, discovered big foot and his band eight miles north of major whiteside's camp on wounded knee creek, and four troops of the seventh cavalry started for them, with me among 'em. "as the hostiles spied us they formed a long battle line, all with guns and knives, the knives being in their cartridge belts outside their blankets. "i tell you, brint, things looked squally. we could see the gleam of their black eyes, and the way they scowled and glared at us showed that nothing would suit 'em better than to drive their knives to the hilts into every one of us. "but major whiteside meant business. he drew us up, too, in battle line. just then big foot was seen coming forward on foot. the major dropped down from his saddle and went forward to meet him. "'me ill,' said big foot, 'me want peace--my people want peace----' "the major was impatient. "'i won't talk or parley with you,' he broke in; 'it is surrender or fight; i await your answer.' "'we surrender--we done so before, but could not find you,' said big foot. "i had my eye on the chief, who just then turned and motioned with his arm to his own battle line. they seemed to be looking for the signal, 'cause the white flag was shown at once. we rode forward quick like and surrounded them, and a courier was sent off post haste for four troops of the seventh, and leftenant taylor's scouts to help guard and disarm the party. they arrived the same day. big foot had one hundred and fifty warriors fully armed, with two hundred and fifty squaws and many children. despite the surrender, we all knowed trouble was coming, and it was not long before it came, like one of them kansan cyclones." chapter viii. "the bucks were coming up alarmingly fast." "when general forsyth arrived," continued the scout, in his description of the battle of wounded knee creek, "he ordered the male indians to come for a talk. they come out, scowling and sullen, and gathered in a half-circle in front of big foot's tent. the chief was inside, ill with pneumonia. "the general told them they must surrender their arms in groups of twenty. by this time they were thoroughly enraged, but most of our boys thought they were so cowed they would obey without much trouble. i didn't like their looks, and told jenkins at my side to hold himself ready, for i believed them fellows meant mischief, and a fight was sure. "'i guess not,' he answered; 'they're obeying orders.' "the first score slunk back without a word. we waited a long while, and by-and-by they came out agin, and how many guns do you 'spose they brought with 'em. just two miserable pieces, worth so much old iron. "the major was impatient because of the delay, and, when he saw this, he too was angry. he turned and talked a few minutes with general forsyth, both speaking so low that i couldn't catch what they said, though i seen the general was as angry as the major, but he kept cool. you see, the major was managing the business, but he made sure that everything was done as general forsyth wanted. "the cavalry was now ordered to dismount, and they done so, forming a square about fifty feet back and closed in, standing within a half-dozen yards of the indians that was in the centre. "it was plain that the latter didn't mean to obey orders, though they pretended to. accordingly a body of cavalry was sent to make the search themselves. when they came out, which they did in a few minutes, they brought sixty good rifles with 'em. that was doing the business up in style; but the general and the major didn't intend there should be any half-way work about it. the soldiers were directed to search the bucks themselves, for there was no doubt that all of 'em had their guns hid under their blankets. "the sioux stood scowling, ugly and savage. when about a dozen had been searched and their rifles brought out, they couldn't stand it. they were furious. like a flash, the rest of 'em whipped out their guns from under their blankets and let fly at us. it was so sudden that before we knew what it meant, a hundred guns had been fired, and the reports sounded like one volley. "it was all done in a twinkling. there we were, close enough almost to touch the redskins, and the flash of their rifles was right in our faces. i remember that i was looking into the muzzle of one of 'em, when the gun went off, and i felt the bullet nip my ear; but others weren't so fortunate, and the poor boys dropped as though so many thunderbolts had fallen among 'em. "it didn't take us long, howsumever, to get in _our_ work. "i can tell you," added scout jackson, "there were lively times for twenty minutes or half an hour. during the battle we stood off some distance when firing at each other, but it was like you and me standing near enough almost to shake hands, and blazing away. them redskins fought hard. it was bang, bang, with the soldiers dropping all around, and no saying when your own turn was to come. "but the hostiles got the worst of it. some of 'em, seeing how it was going, broke through our lines and dashed for the hills to the south-west. we followed 'em, and the fighting kept up as bad as ever, though the shots wasn't so rapid. we lost about thirty, and more than that wounded, and of them some are likely to die." "where were the squaws and children during the fight?" asked brinton. an expression of scorn passed over the face of the scout as he made answer-- "where was they? fighting like so many wild cats. you'll be told that we chased and shot down women and children. there's no question that a big lot of 'em was killed, and how was it to be helped? them squaws was dressed so much like the bucks that you couldn't be certain which was which. from the way they fought, you might have believed each one was ten bucks rolled into one. "but of course we cleaned 'em out, for that's what the seventh always does, when it undertakes that sort of thing; from what i've told you, you'll know there was hot work for a time. a youngster about like yourself had charge of a hotchkiss gun. and the way he handled that all through the fight made us feel like cheering, even when we didn't dare to stop shooting long enough to do so. "when the sioux fled, this youngster dragged his gun from the knoll where he had been stationed. leftenant hawthorne was at his side, and the fighting had become skirmishing on the crests of the ravines, where big foot's band had taken refuge. the bullets were singing and whistling through the air, but that boy wheeled his hotchkiss to the mouth of the gulch, where the firing was the heaviest. the minute he done that, he and the men attached to the gun become the targets of the indians, who was determined to shoot 'em down. the bullets splintered the wheels of the gun, and sent the dirt flying right and left and in the air. a ball struck leftenant hawthorne's watch, glanced off, and wounded him; but the youngster pushed the gun forward and shelled the pockets in the ravines. "that boy kept it up, pushing steadily on and sending the shells wherever they could do the most harm. when the battle was over, he was found wounded, leaning against the shattered wheel of his gun, too weak to stand erect. big foot was among the killed." brinton kingsland was so interested in the story of his companion, who was too modest to dwell upon his own exploits, that he forgot for a few minutes his own situation and the absence of his friends. with only a brief comment on what had been told him, he said, starting up-- "but, nick, of what have i been thinking? here the morning is fully come, and i have not learned anything of father, mother, and edith. how could i forget them so long?" "it was my fault more than yours," replied jackson; "there's nothing to be made by staying here; let's ride out of the gully and look around; i've had a bite, and have something left over; will you have it?" "not just now," replied brinton, as he rode side by side with him out of the depression where he had spent the night. reaching the higher ground, they looked over the surrounding country. the youth gave his chief attention to the rear--that is, in the direction of the big cheyenne, for he believed that wolf ear and the other hostiles were not far off. but, if so, they were not in sight. the scout, however, had discovered something in front, and at a considerable distance, which interested him. shading his eyes with one hand, he gazed intently toward the north. "by gracious!" he exclaimed, "i believe that's them." "where?" eagerly asked his companion. "i don't mean your folk, but that waggon train with supplies from rapid city." brinton's heart sank, for his hopes had been high; but he found some consolation, after all, in the declaration of the scout. a mile away, across the prairie, a party seemed to be preparing to leave camp. at that distance it was impossible to identify them, but jackson was positive that they were the train in search of which he had left the camp at wounded knee. brinton's hope was that his parents were with them. it would have been hard for him to explain just why his hope was so strong in this respect, but it seemed reasonable to suspect that the light of the camp had attracted their notice during the darkness, and that they had gone thither, after finding it impossible to rejoin him. the real, but slight, ground on which he based this fancy was that his pony jack had been found while he, his owner, was travelling in a direct line from the big cheyenne toward the camp. since the animal must have kept company for a time with the other two, the kingslands had continued the same course, and might have descried the twinkle of the camp fire. "i myself would have seen it, had i not ridden the other way and gone into the gully, where i couldn't detect anything a dozen feet away." "yes, i'm almost sure it's them," added jackson, after further studying the camp; "let's find out." the proposition suited brinton, and the two headed their ponies toward the camp. although at the moment of starting there was no danger in sight, and the supply train did not seem to have been disturbed, nicholas jackson was too experienced to forget every precaution, and while he studied the scene in front, he kept glancing toward the other parts of the compass. and it was well he did so, for a few hundred yards only were passed when he said in a low voice, in which no excitement could be noted-- "it looks as if them bucks would like to j'in our company." brinton glanced back, and saw the half-dozen hostiles with whom he had had his stirring experiences the night before dashing towards them from the direction of the cheyenne. there was no need to engage them in a fight: indeed, it would have been the height of imprudence to do so. jackson and brinton were well mounted, and they instantly struck their horses into a run. the indians shouted on perceiving that they were discovered, and they also urged on their animals. several shots were fired, but the distance was too great to do execution. the race had continued but a little while when it became apparent that the pursuers were gaining, jackson's horse was doing his best, but brinton's was not. he could draw away from the indian ponies, but his rider held him back to keep the scout company. the chase could not last long, for the camp was comparatively near at hand, but the bucks were coming up alarmingly fast. "there's no use of both of us being overhauled," said jackson; "ride ahead and save yourself." "but i can't desert you." "faugh! don't be foolish; you can't help me, and you're sure to be shot if you stay; off with you!" "but what will become of you?" "that's nothing to you; it looks as if i must bid you good-bye; billberry has gone lame, but i'll make the best fight i can, and if i go down, some of 'em have got to go with me." brinton was much perplexed what to do, but he knew that the question of life and death must be decided within the next few seconds. chapter ix. "he has made his last scout." the perplexing question was settled by brinton kingsland's pony taking his bit in his mouth and speeding towards the camp of the supply train, as if driven by a hurricane. the youth could not but feel conscience-smitten at this apparent desertion of a comrade in dire extremity, but there was no help for it. besides, jackson was right when he urged brinton to lose no time in saving himself, since it was out of his power to help the imperilled scout. the pursuing hostiles had now approached near enough to make their shots effective. the whistling bullets warned brinton of his danger, so he threw himself forward on the neck of his pony, who rushed ahead with arrowy swiftness. the clatter of hoofs made young kingsland glance to his left: there was billberry, the scout's steed, with neck outstretched, going madly on. he had been touched by one of the flying bullets, and in his panic forgot the weak leg that already had delayed him to a fatal extent. his desperate burst of speed brought him alongside of jack, whose rider, to his amazement, saw him shoot ahead at a pace which none of his kind could surpass, and none there could equal. but his bridle-reins and stirrup-straps were flying in the gale caused by his own tremendous swiftness. brave nick jackson had been shot from the back, and was fighting his last fight. brinton kingsland tugged at the rein of jack, and shouted a savage command in the same breath, the pony would not stop, but, slackening his speed, described a circle, which brought him round with his head toward the pursuers. pierced by one of the balls of the bucks, the scout fell from his saddle, but, recovering himself with wonderful dexterity, turned about, and with levelled winchester bravely faced his foes. the shots were rapid on both sides, and those of jackson did much execution. but his fate was sealed from the first, and none knew it better than he. "i can't stand that!" muttered young kingsland, the moment he succeeded in facing jack the other way; "i have already played the coward, though, heaven knows, i couldn't help it." something of his daring seemed to tingle in the veins of his pony; for, now that he was urged to return, he headed straight for the group of combatants, and shot forward at full speed. meanwhile the members of the supply train were not idle. they had descried the coming of two horsemen from afar, and were quick to recognise them as friends. had there been any doubt, it vanished at sight of the pursuing indians behind them. three were in the saddle in an instant, and scurrying away to the relief of the solitary man fighting for his life. brinton was not aware they were at his heels. he mistook the sound of their horses' hoofs for that of jackson's animal, who, he supposed, had turned, and was rushing into the heart of the peril, as his kind will do when forced out of a burning building. the first warning the youth received of the true state of affairs was when the approaching horsemen fired from behind him at the group crowding around and pressing the scout so sorely. but the hostiles were quicker than he to see their peril. they wheeled hastily, and, flinging themselves over the necks of their ponies, skurried in the direction of the cheyenne. it is the custom of the american indians to carry off their dead and wounded. the latter probably looked after themselves in this instance, but in their haste the two that had fallen by the hand of nick jackson were left stretched on the ground. an extraordinary incident now took place. in the furious struggle one of the hostiles had become dismounted. disregarding the fate of his companions, or probably seeing that the brave scout had become so weakened that the peril no longer existed, he leaped from the back of his pony and dashed forward to give the white man his finishing-stroke. before he could do this, the relief party were so close that he did not dare to tarry. he turned to remount his pony, but the animal had become panic-stricken in the flurry--it may have been that he was struck by a bullet--and was galloping off, as if for his own life. furthermore, he made straight for the camp of the supply train, so that his capture was impossible. but there were two other animals that had lost their riders, and, if he could secure one of these, he might yet save himself. they, however, were galloping among the others riding for life toward the big cheyenne. the bucks, with less chivalry than the youth had shown in similar circumstances, gave no heed to the peril of their dismounted comrade, but sped across the prairie at the utmost speed of which they were capable. among them was possibly one who, seeing that the whites, instead of keeping up the pursuit, had halted around the fallen scout, gave a little thought to their comrade. this friend would not turn back himself, nor did any of the others do so, but with the palm of his hand the former smote one of the riderless ponies across the eyes and shouted a command in his ear. the horse checked himself with a cry of pain, reared, shook his head, and then, dropping out of the group running close together, wheeled and trotted toward the dismounted indian. the latter gave a thrilling exhibition of running. he saw that his only hope lay in reaching one of the ponies of his comrades that had basely deserted him, since to undertake to recapture his own animal must take him into the camp of his enemies. he therefore exerted himself to the utmost to overtake the party before the whites could overtake him. had there been none interested besides the three members of the supply train, all would have gone well with the buck, for, as we have said, they gathered around the fallen scout and gave their whole attention to him. but there was another, who resolved that this miscreant should pay for his unpardonable barbarity to a brave and fallen enemy. that one was brinton kingsland. quick to grasp the situation, after finding himself too late to help poor jackson, he noted the solitary indian, and believing him to be the one who had laid the scout low (though if he had not struck the actual blow, he was equally guilty), he compressed his lips and muttered-- "i'll teach you a lesson, you assassin!" the redskin, as he ran, grasped his winchester in his right hand in a trailing position. the heavy blanket was secured at the throat by some fastening that held it in place. the lower portion streamed out over his back, as did his long black hair, in the wind created by his own fleetness, while his leggings doubled and twinkled so fast that they resembled the spokes of a swiftly-revolving wheel he was, indeed, running with astonishing speed. "now, jack, do your best! there isn't any time to lose, and you are not going to let a miserable redskin outspeed you." the pony flung up his head, snuffed the air, stretched out his neck, and away he went with arrowy swiftness. he knew what was wanted of him, and was not the one to shirk his duty. it was at this juncture that the fugitive, going like a whirlwind, turned his head for an instant and glanced back brinton was watching him, and saw the scowling face glaring like a wild beast through the thicket of flying hair. "great heavens! it's wolf ear!" during these exciting minutes the youth had forgotten about the young ogalalla, until this glimpse of the well-remembered features told him the startling truth. the shock caused him involuntarily to tighten the rein of jack, and the animal, obedient as he generally was, instantly slackened his pace. but the hesitation was for a few seconds only. brinton felt that he ought not to have been surprised after the events of the preceding day and night. "he deserves death more than any of the rest, for his knowledge has been greater than theirs, and his excuse is less. i'll run him down and make him prisoner." again he spoke sharply to jack and twitched the rein. the noble animal stretched away with the same graceful swiftness he had shown from the first. but the ogalalla was cunning. he had seen the indian pony as it withdrew from the rest and came trotting toward him in a bewildered way, as though not quite understanding what it meant; but if the animal was perplexed, wolf ear was not. he read the meaning aright, and saw that one desperate chance remained. if he could hurl himself upon the back of that same steed before the white youth overhauled him, the prospect was good for his ultimate escape. brinton comprehended everything as vividly as he, and did not spare jack. he aimed to interpose himself between wolf ear and his pony, and thus prevent their meeting. every nerve and muscle was strained to accomplish that end. young kingsland was already close enough to shoot down the fugitive, and he felt he deserved to be laid low, but, as we have shown, such was not his purpose. an indefinable dislike to slay a foe, even though ferocious and guilty, prevented his firing the shot that would speedily have ended it all. the rest of the hostiles had disappeared over a swell of the plain and were out of reach. why did not wolf ear, when he saw he could not reach his pony in time, halt and bring his gun to bear on his fierce pursuer? he did. the cunning fellow, almost within reach of the pony, and at the moment when his heart was beating high with hope, saw everything frustrated by the action of the animal. the sight of a person coming toward him at such terrific speed, even though belonging to the race to which he was accustomed, was too disturbing to be accepted with serenity. he raised his head as he came to a halt, surveyed the bounding figure, and then, with a snort of affright, wheeled and trotted toward the river. his speed was much less than that of the ogalalla, but of necessity it compelled the latter to run farther than he would have done had the beast remained stationary, and it was just that brief interval of enforced stay on the ground that told the ogalalla the white youth must reach him before he could overtake the pony. "surrender, wolf ear!" called brinton; "you can't help yourself." evidently wolf ear held a different opinion, for he wheeled like lightning, and levelled his rifle with the reply-- "that's the way _i_ surrender! do you surrender!" the action was so sudden that brinton could not forestall him. he was fairly caught. it was, however, far from brinton's thoughts to yield to this startling command. he flung himself over the other side of the saddle, so as to offer as little of his body as possible to the aim of the miscreant. he was certain he would fire and shoot down his horse, if not himself. he waited with an intensity of emotion which cannot be described. one minute, two minutes passed, but no report came. then brinton heard the suspicious clatter of a horse's hoofs, and peeped over the spine of jack. he was in time to see wolf ear galloping off on the hack of the pony. with inimitable dexterity he had secured the animal during the brief interval at his command, and was now going like the wind over the prairie, after his departed comrades. the ogalalla, however, was not too far away to shout back a taunt and the words-- "wise young man, my gun was not loaded, but it served me as well." then he whisked over the elevation and vanished. there was no help for it, and the chagrined brinton wheeled and galloped toward the group whom he had left some distance behind on the prairie. they were riding slowly to the camp, supporting a form between them. dreading the truth, brinton held back until the others reached the camp. then he rode forward and asked-- "was nick badly hurt?" "he is dead; he did not speak after we reached him. he was a brave fellow, but he has made his last scout." brinton sighed, for he respected and loved the man who had thus died for his country. but another question was on his lips. he looked around the camp, and his heart sank at his failure to see any of the loved ones whom he was so hopeful of finding there. in a trembling voice he put the query. the answer was what he dreaded: they had neither seen nor did they know anything of them. chapter x "oh, there is wolf ear!" it will be remembered that when brinton kingsland dropped to the ground in the gathering darkness to check the crossing of the big cheyenne by the sioux, whose leader had met him in mid-stream, he called in an undertone to his parents to hasten out of the range of the flying bullets; he repeated the command to his pony jack, who obediently trotted after them. the father and mother, at this time, had no more thought of separating themselves for any distance from their brave son than he had; but two causes brought about the singular accident already referred to. the excited words of brinton and the reports of the guns led the couple to think the danger more imminent than it was. as a consequence, they rode farther than was necessary, but still not to a point that ought to have caused any difficulty in their coming together when prudent to do so. mr. kingsland's pony travelled faster than that of his wife, thus placing him a few yards in advance. the gloom had not yet become deep enough to prevent their seeing each other; but at a moment when the wife was about to ask her husband to stop, she was surprised to see him turn to the left, his pony struggling up the bank to the level ground above. "why do you do that, hugh?" she called in a guarded voice, but at once following him. he did not answer, but narrowly missed falling out of the saddle. his animal continued moving away from the river-bank, and presently struck into an easy gallop, which rapidly increased the distance from the stream. mrs. kingsland now suspected the meaning of the strange action, and urged her pony beside that of her husband, which was going so fast that she was obliged to travel farther than she supposed before coming up with him. then, laying hold of the bridle, she brought her husband's pony to a halt. "what is the matter, hugh?" she asked; "are you ill?" "gracious! what have i been doing?" he exclaimed, in turn bewildered, and looking about in the darkness. "why, you have been trying to run away from us," said edith, with a laugh, believing the whole thing to be a joke on her father's part. "you have come a good way from the riverbank," replied the disturbed wife; "i tried to check you, but could not." "i understand it now," said he, passing his hand across his forehead, in the effort to collect his thoughts. "just after we started a faintness seized me, and i knew nothing until this minute. i don't understand why i did not fell out of the saddle." "i saw you reel, and you must have come near doing so. how do you feel now?" "much better. strange that i should have been attacked in that manner; but i am sure it will not occur again. what will brinton think?" "i have heard the report of guns, but all is quiet now." "i feel little alarm, for they will not dare to cross while he is guarding the ford." "is he not in danger?" "no; he is lying on the ground, and they cannot see him; he will hold them at bay as long as he wishes." "but they may come over at some other point and get behind him." "i did not think of that," said the husband more thoughtfully; "but i am sure he will not stay any longer than he ought. it won't do for us to go back, for, if the indians do cross the river, we shall be in their path. it may be well to go part of the way over our own track, so as to make it easier for him to find us. come on, and make no noise." "but you are not taking the right course," protested his wife: "you should turn more to the left." "i feel almost sure you are wrong; but you have had your senses about you all the time, which is more than i have had, and i bow to your decision." "but, mother, you are not right," interposed edith, now fully awake; "you should go that way"; and she indicated a route widely different from that of either--so different, indeed, that her mother could not accept it. "no, dear, you are wrong," she calmly replied. "i will lead." and yet there is reason to believe the child was nearer right than either, and had her suggestion been adopted, much of what followed might have been averted. while they were riding, as they believed, in the direction of the big cheyenne, mr. kingsland noticed that the pony of his son was not with them. his wife said that he did not come up the river-bank, and was probably waiting for brinton to go to him. it will thus be seen that the youth was wrong in his supposition about the movements of jack. by-and-by the time came when mrs. kingsland saw she had committed a sad blunder, and, instead of approaching the river, had gone still farther from it; they could hear nothing of its flow, and were lost on the prairie. husband and wife now debated what was best to do. it was found that when each, including edith, named the supposed direction to the stream, they were as widely apart as before. "the wisest course is to stop trying to find the river," remarked the husband, "for every effort only takes us farther away; we might as well go into camp right here." "and freeze to death." "no; we will ride round until we find some shelter from this cutting wind, and then make ourselves as comfortable as we can until morning. do you see that light away to the south?" that which the ranchman observed was the glow already referred to as attracting the notice of brinton. the latter saw it in its true direction--that is, in the northern horizon, from which the bewilderment of his parents will be evident. in the hope of finding their way to the river the couple acted upon what might be considered a compromise. it is not necessary to say that every yard thus traversed increased the space between them and the youth who, at that moment, was groping blindly in quest of them. the wanderings of the stray ones, however, were fortunately not long continued, when the ponies of their own accord descended a depression in the prairie. it was not deep or well protected, and was not reached until after they had passed over several elevations, but they accepted the shelter thankfully, and dismounted. the three were cramped from their long constraint, and edith ran around and here and there for some minutes before she was willing to be tucked away for the night. their abundant clothing enabled them to get along much better than might be supposed; the little one lay between father and mother, the ponies being allowed to stay by themselves. as in the case of brinton, the long wintry night passed without disturbance or incident. with the coming of daylight mr. kingsland roused himself. seeing his wife and child were still sleeping, he did not awake them, and took the best survey he could of their surroundings. the weather was still intensely cold and the sky overcast. a look at his watch showed it was near eight o'clock when he clambered out of the depression and looked about him. the first discovery to cause surprise was the shelter that they had enjoyed during the night. instead of being a ravine, like that where brinton had slept, this was a rough irregular excavation, some forty or fifty feet in diameter. the sides sloped gently, the whole appearance being that of an immense hole left by some great explosion of gunpowder, to which a providential chance had guided their horses. the husband saw no sign of any living being besides those with him, nor could he form any surmise as to the course to be taken to effect a meeting with his son. "what will brinton think? after doing so bravely the work i ought to have done, we left him in the lurch. we are as much lost to each other as if in the depths of an african jungle with miles intervening. i can't help feeling that the top of that ridge yonder would give me a view that would disclose something important." he debated with himself whether it was prudent to walk thither and obtain the coveted survey. it was little more than a hundred yards distant, and it did not seem that any harm could come to the loved ones whom he would leave but a few minutes. "i must manage to get my bearings in some way before i can do anything. the sun seems to be off yonder behind the clouds, but really it appears to me as if it were in the wrong place!" he ended the doubt by striding to the elevation, rifle in hand. since his faintness of the night before, he felt better and stronger than he had for weeks, and this fact doubtless had much to do with the feeling of self-confidence which now nerved him. reaching the crest of the ridge or swell in the prairie, kingsland was disappointed. the same kind of view confronted him on every hand, and he experienced a repetition of that sensation which often comes to one in his situation: if he could only pass to the top of the next elevation, he would obtain the view he wanted. but hugh kingsland was too wise to yield to the prompting. one precious member of his family was already gone he knew not where, and he would incur no risk of its being further broken up. he was roused from his meditations in the most startling manner conceivable, the cause being a rifle-shot, undoubtedly aimed at himself. on the summit of the ridge at which he was gazing, and almost at the very point, two indian bucks suddenly walked up from the other side in plain sight. while they were still ascending, and when only their heads and waists showed, one of them brought his rifle to his shoulder and tried his skill on the white man across the valley-like depression. mr. kingsland did not tarry long enough to reply, but hurried back to the hollow where he had left his wife and child. they had awakened, but were not alarmed at his absence, the wife suspecting the cause. she had brought out what was left of the lunch, and she and edith were calmly eating when he reappeared, his looks and manner showing that he had made some terrifying discovery. he quickly explained what had taken place, adding-- "i am in doubt whether to mount the ponies and start to flee, or to stay where we are and try to fight them off." "you saw only two, and they were on foot." "but they are sure to have ponies near, and more than likely more of the hostiles are within call." "let us stay here until something is learned," said the wife, showing admirable coolness and courage. whether or not this was the wiser course remains to be seen, but it was followed. mr. kingsland crept to near the top of the hollow, and lying extended at full length against the sloping bank, peered over, with his rifle ready to fire at the first appearance of danger. his position was such that he could detect the approach of anyone from that side, while his wife guarded the other in a similar manner. the ponies having been quieted, edith was cautioned to remain near them, and to avoid exposing herself to any stray shots that might be fired. as long as she kept at the bottom of the hollow with the animals, she and they were safe. a full hour passed without the least sign of the hostiles. a less experienced person might have accepted this evidence that the danger had passed them by; but when a second hour had worn away with the same quietness everywhere, the husband and wife still maintained their watchfulness. the forenoon was half gone before this vigilance was rewarded. mrs. kingsland called to her husband that there was something suspicious in front of her; and pausing only long enough to make sure that nothing of the kind was immediately before him, he slipped down the hollow and up the opposite slope to her side. "where is it?" he asked in an undertone. "just over that first swell, and a little to the left." "i see him; keep down out of sight!" he placed the muzzle of his repeating winchester over the side of the hollow, took careful aim at the rough head that had risen a few inches above the slight swell in the prairie, and let fly. the aim was a perfect one, as was shown by the instant disappearance of the crown and the cry, which from behind the elevation sounded as if much farther off. instantly three or four replies came from other points along the swell, and the bullets chipped the dirt about the face of kingsland, who ducked his head out of range. knowing, however, how much depended on his concealing his weakness from the hostiles, he fired four shots quickly, without special aim, and with no expectation of accomplishing anything except that named. "if i can make them think there are half a dozen rifles here on the watch, they will be careful about attacking. but they mustn't know how weak we are." "i don't admit that we are so weak in this hollow and with that repeating gun, and you feeling so strong and well." at this juncture a cry was heard from edith. she had forgotten the command of her father, and crept up the opposite slope. "oh, there is wolf ear!" and before anyone could interpose she sprang up the bank and ran toward the ridge where her father had first seen the two hostiles. the horrified parents at the same moment saw three other indians dash toward the innocent child, who never dreamed of her awful peril. [illustration: "'oh, there is wolf-ear!'"] chapter xi. "i'm off; good-bye!" though his brave companion had fallen almost at his side, brinton kingsland had reached the camp of the supply train without receiving so much as a scratch. he mourned him, for he was a worthy man; but he was heart-broken at his failure to gain tidings of his loved parents and little sister. he did not know what to do, and could only fear the worst. when he had told his story to his new friends, none of them were able to offer any encouragement or hope. the supply train consisted of a dozen waggons, in charge of sixteen teamsters. as a matter of course, all were armed, and had come thus far without trouble. they were making ready to resume their journey to wounded knee when the affray already described took place. this caused an hour's delay, and now, when about to start again, the signs of danger became so threatening, they held back for consultation. the indians whom they had driven from the prostrate form of scout jackson reappeared on the crest of the hill over which they had skurried, and it was noticed that their number was increased to fully a dozen. while the teamsters were watching them another band came into sight, in the opposite direction. to the dismay of the spectators, this party was more numerous than the first. not only that, but both bands advanced at a slow trot, and met at a point a couple of hundred yards distant, and in a place over which the train would have to pass if it pushed on toward the camp at wounded knee. "boys," said captain wadsworth, who was in charge of the train, "there's going to be a fight." "we ought to be able to keep them off," replied one of his men. "so we shall if no more appear; but the sioux are as thick as berries, and by-and-by we shall have a hundred or more of them popping away at us. we may as well get ready for what's certain to come." "jackson said something to me," observed brinton, "about an escort having been sent out from wounded knee to bring you in." "they can't come any too soon," responded the captain, who fully comprehended the peril; "but i'm afraid they will be too late. those indians don't let the grass grow under their feet." the leader did not content himself with talking, but began to prepare for the attack, which might come at any moment. the waggons were drawn up in a circle, in the middle of which were placed the horses. bags of grain, boxes and bundles, were piled on the ground underneath the waggons. these served as an additional protection for the animals, and screened the men, when kneeling behind and firing at their assailants. the hostiles were quick to detect what was going on, and did not allow the work to be completed without interference. they began circling back and forth, riding entirely around the camp and discharging their guns at it. the exhibition of horsemanship was a fine one; but they kept at such a distance that their shots did little damage. in some way, one got through the entrenchments, as they might be called, and slightly wounded a horse in the shoulder. he made more fuss than if it had gone through his head, rearing, snorting, and plunging, and throwing the rest into a panic, which would have ended in a stampede, had they not been guarded with unusual care. the teamsters did not accept these unwelcome attentions meekly, but fired at their circling assailants; the cause named, however, prevented much success. it looked as if one or two of the shots inflicted damage, but not to the extent of disabling any pony or his rider. standing at the rear of one of the waggons, where he could see everything that was going on, captain wadsworth watched the exciting incidents. at his elbow was brinton kingsland, who did not think it worth while to try his hand with his winchester, though the others were continually cracking around him. "what is to be feared," said the captain, "is that the hostiles will soon increase to such an extent that they will overwhelm us." "how many do you think are out there now?" inquired brinton. "i should say between twenty and thirty--that is, there were a few minutes ago, but there are five or six less now." "what is the meaning of that?" the leader turned his bronzed face toward the youth and smiled significantly. "don't you catch on? they have sent after reinforcements: a slight number now means a big number pretty soon." "have you noticed those bucks on the top of the ridge yonder?" captain wadsworth looked in the direction named. three indians had dismounted, and were standing close together, or rather two of them were, while the third seemed to be stooping and busy with something on the ground. "how long have they been there?" asked the leader. "they rode up the slope within the last five minutes. they were off their ponies before they stopped. i can't guess what they are doing." "i don't know; but we shall soon learn." although the cracking of rifles continued, and the teamsters, kneeling behind the fortifications, were doing their utmost to pick off some of the dusky riders, who in turn sent in their dropping shots, captain wadsworth gave them little heed. the position of himself and brinton was exposed, and, had their assailants come closer, they would not have dared to maintain it; but with the combatants so widely separated, it cannot be said they were in much real danger. the three indians in whom our friends were so much interested just then were beyond and apart from the others. their horses were cropping the few blades of withered grass that had survived the winter's tempests; but not one was a dozen yards from his master, all of whom were so grouped together that their movements could not be identified. rather curiously there was not a spy-glass among the teamsters. such an article would have been valuable just then; but they had to depend upon their unaided vision. the captain and brinton, however, agreed that two of the bucks were bent over and busy with something on the ground, while the third, standing on the crest of the ridge, appeared to be awaiting the action of his companions before carrying out some plan he had in mind. "look!" whispered the youth; "isn't that smoke?" the captain was silent a moment before answering-- "yes; the indian is like the chinaman: he can start a fire where you and i couldn't kindle a spark. i believe they will make a bundle of water-soaked leaves crackle and burn like tinder wood. those fellows have got some of the dried grass together and have managed to touch it off. you understand what _that_ means, of course?" "i cannot say that i do." "it is a signal fire." "kindled for what purpose?" "to call all the other hostiles in sight here, to take a hand in the fun of massacring us and plundering our train. such a signal can be seen a long way and will do all that is intended. look at it now!" from between the two, who now rose from their stooping posture, a thin finger of vapour arose, going straight upward as if it were a shadowy arrow aimed at the clouds. "one of the bucks is waving his blanket," observed brinton; "he must mean something by that. i suppose he is fanning the blaze to keep it from going out." "no; look at that thin line of smoke; don't you see something peculiar?" "ah! i notice it now." the vapour showed a striking change of appearance; instead of climbing in a straight line, it now waved gracefully from side to side. it was something which never can occur unless with the help of some person. "that is the signal," said captain wadsworth; "it can be seen for miles in all directions, and every indian eye that catches sight of it will read its meaning as plainly as our soldiers do the looking-glass signals. it's a bad thing for us." the captain was an old campaigner, and knew what he was talking about; his impressive manner was not lost upon brinton kingsland. "how far are we from wounded knee?" he asked. "anywhere from a dozen to twenty miles; it depends on the course we take--that is," he added, with a shake of his head, "whether we ever take any course at all." "i cannot recall just what jackson said about an escort from that camp, but i think he told me such an escort had been sent." the captain shook his head. "you must be mistaken; for, if that were the case, why did he ride out here alone? was it not more likely that he came to learn whether we needed protection? and if that is so, they will wait for his return and report before sending out the escort which is the only thing that can save us." this view was so reasonable that brinton could not combat it. "i see one chance," ventured the youth, after a moment's silence, during which he watched the actions of the signal corps on the ridge. the officer turned wonderingly toward him. "i shall be glad to hear what it is." "if a messenger can get through to wounded knee with word of your extremity, they will send you help without delay." "true; but how can such a thing succeed? if it were night it might be done; but in what possible way can a horseman dash through the lines when the bucks would see him start, and they have us surrounded?" "it will be taking big risks, but i would like to try it." captain wadsworth, who had been leaning against the hind wheel of one of the waggons, with his arms folded, abruptly straightened up and stared at the youth, as if uncertain whether he had heard him aright; then he repeated-- "_you_ would like to try it, did you say?" "yes, sir; and i believe i can get through." the officer looked off toward the ridge and shook his head. "don't think of such a thing; we must stay here and fight it out, and trust to providence to open the way, if any is to be opened." but brinton was in earnest, and his eagerness was increased by the discouraging manner of the captain. "i understand your feelings, and i am not blind to what is in the path of the one who attempts to do what i have proposed; but, captain, bear two things in mind: there isn't a fleeter horse in the whole west than my jack. when i gave him rein he pulled away from those indians as though their animals were walking. so all i have to secure is a fair start." "exactly," replied the leader with a grim smile, "and therein you sum up the whole business. all that you need to succeed is to succeed. but what is the other point you wish me to hold in mind?" "the fair start can be secured." "how?" "pretend to ride out against the hostiles. they will gather in front of the threatened point; i will be on the watch, and, when the way opens, will scoot for wounded knee." brinton saw that captain wadsworth was interested. once more he came to the erect position, and looking kindly in his face, said-- "your plan has something in it." the heart of the youth leaped with hope. "i am sure of it; but there's not a minute to lose." this was self-evident, and the captain, having made up his mind, passed among his men and hurriedly explained what he had decided to do. it was for eight or ten of them to mount their horses and move cautiously toward the ridge, as if with the intention of attacking the little signal party there and stamping out their tiny fire. this would cause a concentration (or, more properly, it was hoped that it would) of the hostiles on that side of the camp, of which brinton kingsland would take advantage by dashing out on the other side and riding at full speed to wounded knee. it was the only thing that offered hope, and, therefore, was eagerly accepted by all. the firing was so scattered that no fear was felt in moving about within the circle of waggons, for, as we have shown, captain wadsworth and brinton had been exposed all the time without harm. the sioux kept so far away that it was evident they were waiting for the arrival of reinforcements before making a real attack. the preparations on the part of the teamsters had hardly begun when brinton, who had led his pony forth and stood ready to leap into the saddle, called out-- "you needn't do it! here's my chance!" the majority of the indians were near the ridge at that moment, but some of them were quite a distance off, and, in fact, alarmingly close to the opposite side of the camp. the impatient youth was confident that he could dash through the opening before they could stop him. "it won't do!" protested captain wadsworth; "don't try it! wait till we get them nearer the ridge they will cut you off----" "i'm off! good-bye!" brinton kingsland was in the saddle, and shot out from among the waggons like a thunderbolt. chapter xii. what happened to wolf ear. good fortune attended the daring attempt of brinton kingsland. by a providential occurrence, most of the hostiles were on the side of the supply camp, in the direction of the ridge from whose crest the signal smoke was ascending, when the youth, dexterously guiding his pony through the waggons that surrounded him, quickly cleared himself of all obstacles. "now, jack, old boy, do your best! never was there greater need of it." the intelligent creature thrust his nose forward, and was off like a shot. he knew what was wanted, and nobly responded to the call upon his fleetness. the teamsters forgot all about the indians, and fixed their gaze upon the youth. he was fully a hundred yards from camp before the sioux comprehended what was done. then, when they saw the messenger dashing over the plain, fully a dozen of the best mounted were after him in a flash, discharging several of their guns at the moment of starting. brinton was seen to thunder up the incline of the first swell, sitting firmly in his saddle, and instantly disappeared over the crest. a minute later, the foremost two of the pursuers skimmed up the same incline, just as the lad shot into sight on the summit of the next elevation, instantly whisking out of view over that, while his superb horse continued his arrowy flight toward wounded knee. then the excited and hopeful teamsters could see no more, and all but the foremost two of the pursuers gave up the chase and came straggling back to join their comrades in the attack on the camp. they knew that the result of that flight of the messenger would be to bring help, and, if anything was to be accomplished, it must be before it could arrive. and so the attack on the camp was begun at once, and with a fierceness that speedily brought a crisis. meanwhile, brinton kingsland was going with undiminished speed over the prairie, skimming up the inclines and down the slopes at a break-neck pace, with every nerve of his splendid steed strained to the highest. the rider heard the dull report of the rifles that were fired at him, but the distance was too great to cause alarm, and he did not even hear the singing of the bullets, so wide went they of the mark; but the glance cast over his shoulder showed that he had only two pursuers to fear. it was easy to compare their speed with his, and less than a half-mile was passed, when all doubt vanished. they had been thrown a hundred paces to the rear and were losing ground every minute. at the instant of shooting up one of the slopes and disappearing over the crest, brinton snatched off his cap and swung it over his head, with a joyous shout. "hurrah, jack! they're not in it with you; you can take it more easily now." nevertheless, the speed of the pony was maintained for a brief while, until it became certain that his two pursuers had given up the attempt to overtake him, and had gone to wreak their fury on the imperilled teamsters before help could reach them. then brinton made jack drop to a pace which he could continue for hours without fatigue. the youth knew the course to follow to reach the camp at wounded knee creek, and he calculated that he could readily cover the ground in the course of an hour or so. he was too sensible, however, to imagine that an open and uninterrupted course lay before him. at that time, as the reader well knows, the country in the neighbourhood of the bad lands, the reservations and the space between, was overrun with hostiles, as eager as so many jungle tigers to slay settlers, small squads of soldiers, and all white people whom it was safe to attack. he was liable to encounter some of these bands at any moment, and only by continual vigilance could he avoid running into the cunningly laid traps which proved fatal to scores of others. now that the burst of excitement was over, and he was riding at a less killing pace, his thoughts went back to the loved ones from whom he had been so strangely separated. his heart became as lead as he reflected that they could hardly have escaped, considering the condition of his father, from the environing perils which covered miles of territory in every direction. "if i only knew where they were, if alive, i would guide this escort from wounded knee to their help----" what was that? surely he heard the report of guns from some point in advance. jack pricked his ears and increased his pace. "it can have but one meaning," muttered brinton, with a throbbing heart; "someone is in peril: can it be _they_?" he reined up his pony and stood still on the crest of the first elevation he reached, after the ominous sounds fell on his ears. at that moment he descried coming over another ridge, a furlong away, a troop of thirty or forty cavalry, riding at a gallop toward him. "that's the escort from wounded knee," was his instant conclusion; "i was right when i told captain wadsworth that nick jackson said the escort was on the way, though i wasn't certain of it." but evidently the firing had not come from the cavalry. it was from some point between, and, instead of being directly in front, as it first seemed, was off to the right, where he observed a depression, with several dismounted indians crouching around it. "great heavens! it's father fighting them off," he gasped; "he is in that hollow and they have attacked him!" he struck his heels against the ribs of jack, fiercely jerked the bridle-rein, and shouted to him to run at his best straight for the spot. but the approaching cavalry had descried the same thing, and were nearer the hollow than was the youth. they turned the heads of the horses and struck off at full speed. the assailing indians, too, had discovered their danger and were seen skurrying for their ponies, waiting near. the obedient animals turned until their masters sprang upon their backs, when they dashed off at full speed, with a single exception. one of them, forgetful of his danger or determined upon revenge, even at the cost of his life, was observed to have something in his arms as he held his ground. "it is edith that he is about to slay; maybe he has already killed her! o heaven!" the brother groaned, "is it too late to save her?" jack was tearing over the ground at a killing pace, but he could not reach them in time. he could carry his rider there in time to shoot down the indian, but not soon enough to prevent his burying his knife in the innocent heart. but there was a wonderful sharpshooter among the cavalry. he saw the awful peril, and throwing his horse on his haunches, brought his gun to his shoulder. during the instant it was at a level, hugh kingsland dashed out of the hollow, bare-headed, and, with hair streaming, ran toward the indian and his little girl. one pace behind him sped his wife; she was seen to make quick, earnest gestures to the approaching horsemen, and they thought it an appeal to them not to lose a second if they would save her child. at that instant the sharpshooter pressed the trigger of his weapon; the indian dropped the little one, threw up his arms in an aimless way, staggered back and sank to the ground. the next minute the troop thundered up, brinton almost among them. "are you hurt, my darling edith?" he called, leaping out of the saddle, catching her in his arms, pressing her to his heart and kissing her; "speak! did he hurt you?" the child was bewildered by the great confusion, and, without answering her brother, looked him affrightedly in the face. "why, brint, is that you?" "yes, yes; heaven be praised, you are not harmed! oh, how can i be thankful enough? and you, father and mother! what a blessed sight!" the mother gave him one grateful glance and then knelt by the fallen indian, just as edith, slipping from the grasp of her brother, ran to the prostrate figure and bent over it, asking in a voice of inexpressible tenderness-- "what is the matter, wolf ear?" the young ogalalla lay on his back, but at the moment the child spoke he managed, by a great effort, to raise his head and rest it on his hand. he had not spoken, but now, fixing his dark eyes on edith, said in a faint voice-- "wolf ear is hurt!" the troopers sat silent on their horses, looking down on the strange scene. hugh kingsland, with no trace of his illness, stood back a few paces with folded arms, gazing at the moving sight and trying in vain to restrain his emotions. his wife placed her arm under the head of the ogalalla, and, resting it on her knee, smoothed the black hair from his forehead, murmuring words of sympathy; edith covered her face with her hands, and sobbed with a breaking heart. brinton was affected at the sight of his former friend, but he could not help saying-- "mother, we can all pity him, but he was our enemy; and had he not been shot at that moment edith would not be living now." "you are wrong, my son," she replied gently. "wolf ear came forward to save edith." "what are you saying?" "he was with the party that attacked us; he did what he could to restrain them; he could not do so, and he ran forward to join and help us defend ourselves against them. edith saw him first and hurried out to meet him; he caught her up, and, when his companions would have harmed her, he would not let them touch her. he shouted to us to have no fear, that he was our friend. at that moment the soldiers came in sight and the other indians made off. wolf ear knew we were saved, and so he stood still, with edith's arms around his neck. i saw one of the soldiers aiming at them with his gun; husband and i ran out to shield him. i shouted and motioned to the soldier not to shoot, but he did not understand me, and--this is the sad result of the dreadful mistake." wolf ear fixed his eyes upon the wondering brinton, who, walking forward and stooping down, asked in a choking voice-- "is all this true, wolf ear?" "the words of your mother are true." "but what meant your course toward me yesterday? i cannot reconcile that with what i have just heard." "we parted friends, though i told you i was the enemy of the rest of your race. from the time we separated i have done all i could to find your people and save them before it was too late. until now, i have not met you." "you forget; we met in the gorge last night, and only this morning, when you sought the life of nick jackson, i chased you over the ridge in the effort to make you prisoner." a smile overspread the dark face, and the head swayed a single time to one side. "brinton, you are mistaken; the ogalalla whom you met, as you say, in the gully, and whom you sought to make prisoner, was not i--he was my twin brother, young bear; our mother can hardly tell us apart, and i taught him to speak english as well as i." "oh, what have i done!" wailed brinton, breaking down utterly, and covering his face with his hands. "i never dreamed of this; can you forgive this dreadful mistake?" "yes," said wolf ear faintly, "i forgive you; i forgive the soldier who shot me, for he did it to save _her_ life." he wearily closed his eyes, but opened them again when he felt the chubby arms of edith clasped round his neck, and her lips pressed against his. "oh, wolf ear!" she sobbed, in tones that brought tears to more than one eye among the bronzed troopers, "do not die! i love you, next to brint and papa and mamma----" among the silent troopers touched by the scene was the sharpshooter who had brought wolf ear low. he was a brave, rugged soldier, but, like most men, had a tender heart. he had not spoken for some minutes, and his eyes were moist as he swung his foot from his stirrup and over the haunch of his horse to the ground. "jim budworth don't often make a miss," he said in a broken voice, "and i didn't miss this fellow; but then i didn't aim to kill him, and i don't believe i did. i know a little about surgery myself--so let me take a look at wolf ear, as you call him." wondering at the words of the sharpshooter, and hardly daring to hope he was right, all watched him as he made what may be called a medical examination of the sufferer. the bullet had struck him in the side, and evidently had inflicted the wound intended. "injins are tough," remarked budworth, "and this one is as tough as the rest. he isn't going to die. here, wolf ear, try this." as he spoke, the trooper held a flask of spirits to the lips of the young indian and forced him to swallow some of it. it produced an immediate effect; and, to the astonishment of everyone, wolf ear assumed a sitting position and looked round with a smile. "i feel better--much better, thank you," he said, with a grateful look at budworth. "of course you do. it was a narrow chance for you, no mistake; but all you want is careful nursing, and i reckon mrs. kingsland here will be glad to give it you." "indeed i will," said the delighted woman; "there is nothing that i will not do for wolf ear. can it be possible that he is going to get well after all?" "of course it is; i know all about injins." "oh, i am so glad!" exclaimed the happy edith, throwing her arms again about his neck. "easy now, easy now," said budworth; "don't go to rolling and tumbling him about until he gets a little stronger. after that you can handle him as you choose." wolf ear rallied with amazing quickness, and showed all the heroism of his race, when he was helped upon his horse and the party moved back to the supply camp, where the teamsters had succeeded in driving off the hostiles. the indian was given an easy, comfortable couch in one of the waggons, and some hours later the party arrived at wounded knee. there the sufferer received the best of medical attention, and was soon able to move about with scarcely any pain or trouble. his recovery was rapid; and to-day only a slight scar remains to tell how nearly he met death in his efforts to save his friends from the warriors of his own race. and within the following few weeks the threatening cloud that had overspread the western sky, behind which the blood-red lightning gleamed and played, dissolved, and gave place to the sweet sunshine of peace, which, let us pray, may continue for ever. printed by cassell and company, limited, la belle sauvage. london, e.c. ,